Page 17 of Lady Impatience (A Series of Senseless Complications #3)

The day had passed by uneventfully, if a bit bumpily, as days of travel often did. Patience could not manage writing in her diary in such a situation and contented herself with looking out the window.

Her father and Mrs. Right had seemed to deem the danger to her passed and they had gone back to their usual carriage arrangements. She rode with Winsome and Serenity, while Verity and Valor rode with Mrs. Right.

“You must settle the debate between us, Patience,” Winsome said. “Is it better to be angry or sad?”

“I should think neither,” Patience said, “though I experience both at the moment. At the same time, oddly.”

“Did you really think Lord Stanford was your true love?” Serenity asked.

Patience could already see her sister’s eyes getting a little brighter. Tears were surely on the way. “You are not to fret over it, Serenity. I have counseled myself to remember all the luck I’ve had in life. If I continue to remind myself, I cannot help but to be happy.”

“Having a gentleman run away from you and then falling on the floor in front of a crowd of people does not sound very lucky,” Winsome said.

“Oh, Winsome!” Serenity said. “Do have a heart.”

“Never mind it,” Patience said. “The trick is to think of all the things we have to look forward to. Our ponies will arrive, and we will take wild rides all over the neighborhood.”

“We can jump Farmer Whimple’s fences, as that always does put him out,” Winsome said. “He shouts like the devil and calls us heathens.”

“And Valor can tell the vicar that Papa dressed as him going up in flames for the masque,” Patience added.

“And our aunt will only be able to send letters, instead of terrorizing us in person,” Serenity said. “I do love my aunt, in my way, but she can be so frightening.”

“And even now, we approach the inn where we found our dear Nelson,” Winsome said.

They all gazed down at the sleeping dog. As was his habit, he was on his back with his legs in the air. Patience suspected that position was most comfortable for him due to his infirmities.

“I wonder if he will recognize the neighborhood,” Serenity asked.

They had pulled into the innyard along with the rest of the duke’s carriages. The innkeeper hurried out and then stopped in his tracks. “Your Grace! Gracious me, you are back. I did not expect that you… would be back. I was certain your valet gave us the sad news that you would stay… elsewhere.”

“I do not know why Reynolds would have said so. Reynolds, why did you tell this good man we would not be back?”

Reynolds, always grave, said, “I was under the impression there would be renovations done and it might be uncomfortable.”

“Ah, I see. Well here we are, and the place looks untouched. We come back unexpectedly soon, but here we are.”

“I did not know… that is… we had no notice of your arrival. We have a rather large party here at the moment. The Marquess of Maidstone and his retinue are here. They take up most of my rooms.”

The duke laughed and said, “Well I suppose you can move the retinue, can you not? Do see to it, my good man.”

The innkeeper looked positively nonplussed.

Just then, a tall creature of a man dressed as the foppiest of the fops, wandered outdoors. “Did I hear a Your Grace has arrived?” he said lazily.

“Pelham,” the duke said. “I suppose you are Maidstone? Do be so good as to move your retinue elsewhere.”

“Move them? Elsewhere?” the marquess said.

“Yes, that’s right. We require rooms.”

The marquess’ eyes drifted toward Patience and her sisters. “Well, if I am given the opportunity to accommodate such fine ladies, then I suppose I ought to do it.”

“Excellent, I was certain you would,” the duke said. “Move them all out and we’ll move in and then I would hope to see you in my dining room.”

As Patience was well aware that this inn only had one private dining room, she tried not to laugh at her father commandeering it and graciously offering the marquess a seat at his table.

“Ah yes, your dining room, of course. I would be delighted,” the marquess said. He turned to the innkeeper. “Might you arrange for my servants, but for my valet, I must keep him near, to be relocated to The Blue Boar? Not the accommodations I would usually arrange for my people, but in this case…”

The innkeeper hurried off to make the arrangements. As he did so, Serenity struggled with Nelson to get him out of the carriage, though the dog was making a heroic bid to stay in it. Serenity finally won and set him on the ground. The marquess took in the sight and one eyebrow slightly raised.

“That is Nelson,” Valor put in. “He is the best dog in the whole world, except when he is dragging Mrs. Wendover all over the house.”

The marquess’ eyes drifted toward Mrs. Right, in case she might be the lady being dragged all over the house by a three-legged dog.

As for Nelson himself, he kept himself very close to Serenity’s skirts. He was usually so happy and outgoing, but Patience suspected he did recognize his old neighborhood and did not wish to be returned to the scene of his unhappiness.

“I pray for Mrs. Wendover’s continued safety,” the marquess said.

“Do not we all?” Valor said. “There have been times I was convinced she was gone forever, but then I’d find her hiding under the servants’ table or behind a sofa.”

“Gracious, the lady seems hard-pressed,” the marquess said.

Valor nodded in full agreement.

There was something both interesting and off-putting about the marquess. There was a languidness to him that Patience could not like, as if he were bored with all the world. He also did not seem to look favorably upon Nelson which must be a mark against him. And then his clothes… really, it was well for a gentleman to have a care in his dress. However, it did not strike her as attractive when it appeared he must spend half the day on it.

The duke introduced his daughters, and they all made the obligatory curtsy. Then the marquess was made known to Mrs. Right and he was informed that the housekeeper would dine with them.

As others had been, the marquess seemed very surprised to hear it. But then, Mrs. Right narrowed her eyes at him and he claimed he was delighted.

Valor looked the marquess up and down, obviously taking in his shiny hessian boots and his wildly embroidered waistcoat of peacocks in a garden. “If you do not mind me asking,” Valor said, “your pants look too tight. Do they hurt?”

The duke roared with laughter as the marquess gazed down at the little lady. “Do not answer that, Maidstone, it will only lead to more uncomfortable questions!”

Valor, seeming to comprehend that she ought not have asked such a question, said, “What I meant to say, my lord, is how are you finding the weather?”

Patience bit her lip. Whenever Valor suspected she’d taken a wrong turn, she backtracked to discussing the weather, as their short-lived governess, Miss Pynchon, had advised.

“The weather has been unusually fine, in my view,” the marquess said. “But I detect some dark clouds on the horizon, just west of here. I would not be at all surprised if we see some heavy rain in an hour or so.”

All the sisters nodded in approval over the marquess’ answer. His kindness in answering Valor’s question with thoughtfulness went a long way toward raising their opinion of him. Perhaps his clothes could be overlooked if he meant to be indulgent of a younger sister.

“Do allow me to escort you inside. I will see to it that the ladies are situated comfortably in their rooms as quickly as possible. Lady Patience?” the marquess asked, extending an arm.

Patience laid her hand on his offered arm, and they proceeded indoors. They were met with a stream of surly servants moving trunks out of the inn. The glares were rather marked, particularly towards the duke’s servants. Patience could not blame them for it, as it must be aggravating in the extreme. They were causing a terrible inconvenience. She hoped The Blue Boar was comfortable for them. She would speak to her father about sending over funds for them to order whatever they wished while they were so inconvenienced. She was certain the duke would be happy to oblige and it might go some way to soothing sore feelings.

She was also certain it was not a remedy that would have occurred to her before this moment in her history. It was as if, now that she was determined to count her blessings, she was more awake to the world around her.

In rather short order, she and her sisters were led to their very recently vacated rooms. She would share a bed with Serenity again, but it was quite a commodious bed so neither of them minded. Verity and Winsome would share a bed, and then poor Mrs. Right would be left with Valor, probably to be kicked all night long.

“What did you think, Patience?” Serenity asked.

“Think of what?”

“Of the marquess, of course. We have unexpectedly encountered a gentleman of the ton . Did it give you the idea that perhaps next season you could look upon other gentlemen and become attached to one of them?”

“Not in the least, I’m afraid,” Patience said. If anything, the marquess’ fripperies simply reminded her of the handsome restraint Lord Stanford employed.

“I cannot say I feel anything for him either,” Serenity said. “Though I was hard pressed not to laugh when Valor inquired into the tightness of his breeches.”

Patience nodded. “I did think he was very kind to ignore it and give her a thoughtful answer on the weather.” She paused and peered out the window. “I also think he was right about the weather. I think we have been lucky to reach an inn before the rain comes, it is looking very dark indeed.”

As they both peered out the window, they could see that a storm of some significance was heading their way. In the distance, trees swayed in the wind and the horizon had taken on a gray and misty appearance.

“We shall be very cozy here, I think,” Serenity said. “We will be very snug at dinner while a storm rages out of doors.”

Patience nodded, but did not say that a storm raged inside her too while she worked to quiet it and let it pass. Rather, she took her diary to a corner of the room, sat in an overstuffed chair, and wrote out all the feelings that washed over her at the moment.

An hour passed by with Patience writing and Serenity reading, and then it was time to dress for dinner. As they were exceedingly seasoned travelers at this point in their history, it did not take more than an hour to accomplish it. It might have taken even less time, but Patience’s hair always acted unruly when rain threatened. It seemed to double its volume and was difficult to tame.

They descended to the dining room, where they found the rest of the party gathered. It was a cheery room at the front of the inn with large bow windows overlooking the innyard. Patience supposed that during the day it would have an advantageous view of who was coming and going.

As everybody else had already seated themselves before their arrival, the duke at one end and the marquess at the other, there were only two chairs left. Serenity made a dash to the empty chair by Mrs. Right, leaving Patience to sit next to the marquess.

The wine came round and Patience was glad of it. She felt uneasy in some way. Perhaps it was the thunder crashing outside or the flashes of lightning that made, for a moment, night into day. She did not mind storms when she was safe in her own house in the Dales, she even enjoyed them, but there was something about being a traveler that made it feel a bit perilous. It would have been downright perilous had they been caught on the road. Heavy rain had a habit of creating holes in the road. Once the holes filled with water, the horses could not perceive them and might injure a leg. Particularly not with wind and rain whipping their faces.

As she had decided to count her blessings, she must be glad their own horses were stabled, warm, and dry.

Still, she felt uneasy about the weather. It sounded so violent. Their house in the Dales was of Yorkstone and it seemed as if nothing could hurt them while they were inside it. The inn’s flimsy stucco walls could not be as sturdy.

At least they were indoors. And really, they must be safe enough. She’d never heard a story of an inn’s roof blowing off or walls collapsing because of a rainstorm. She just must hope nobody had not been caught on the roads before reaching shelter.

The marquess did his best to entertain her, and he did a fairly good job of it. He had no end of amusing anecdotes. It was particularly funny when he described a horse he’d been recently bamboozled into buying. It seemed the stallion was very good at a short burst of a gallop, which he’d seen and been impressed by. It was only later that he discovered the horse positively refused to do anything further than that. He would simply stop and refuse to go on. The marquess had ended walking the beast home as he could not bear to beat a horse and did not think it would do any good anyway. The horse was now enjoying a life of leisure in one of his fields.

Patience felt herself relax and allowed herself to be amused by the marquess’ tales of woe. She reminded herself that by the morning, the storm would have passed and they would set off, getting ever closer to the Dales now, and the air would be particularly fresh, everything having been washed clean by the rains. Perhaps she would herself feel as refreshed as the countryside. She was determined to appreciate it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Marcus had known perfectly well that he would not reach the next inn before becoming drenched. The lightning was another and far more worrisome consideration. He’d been forced to take shelter in somebody’s barn on account of it. The horses who called it their primary residence gave hard glances to his own horse, viewing him as an interloper. Perhaps they’d even shot some hard glances at him too, when they watched him rub down his horse, water him and then feed him some of their precious oats. The oats were clearly the furthest stepping out of bounds. Even the friendliest and easygoing horse was possessive about his oats and Marcus ignored the snorts and stamps and even one kick at a stall door.

Finally, the lightning and thunder eased, and he could set off again. The rain still came down in sheets and his horse was not the least impressed with the situation, but he had no intention of spending the night in a barn. He supposed the other horses were glad to see the back of them.

He understood from a boy he’d encountered before the rain had begun that the next inn was five miles up the road. Though the rain was inconvenient, it was perhaps a blessing in disguise. Certainly, the duke would not press on further when he’d seen a storm on the horizon. He was eccentric in the extreme and had driven mad half the innkeepers in England, but he did have a care for his family. He would not risk a broken wheel or getting stuck in mud or a horse going lame from a new formed hole in the road.

Marcus would go forward carefully, giving his horse the time and latitude to judge the state of the road and act accordingly. It was aggravating in the extreme as he would like to gallop, but it would be careless to do so. He must just assure himself that if the duke stopped as Marcus guessed he would, his party would not go anywhere until morning.

She must be there. Lady Patience must be at the next inn. He would chase after her all the way to the Dales if necessary, he would chase her to America if that were required, but he prayed she would be there. The longer she was allowed to live with the idea that he’d run from her at the masque, the more hardened against him she would be. He could not allow so much time to pass that she’d turned away from him permanently.

It did occur to him that he’d rather thrown caution to the winds. It felt foreign, to be this devil-may-care person galloping after a lady. It felt like something Radler would do, and not himself. But Lady Monroe had been right—it was time to go after what he wanted, not what he was trying to avoid. A man could not live his life attempting to dodge any difficulties that might come up in the hopes of leading a staid life devoid of surprises. A man should not even wish for such a life.

He did not wish for such a life, as it had finally dawned on him that it would be no life at all. He wanted to be surprised and risk it all. He was certain it would come out well. Or if not certain, he was no longer held back by the risk of it.

As the wind whipped his face and the driving rain clouded his vision, he must just pray that Lady Patience had not altogether given up on him.

Finally, he saw the telltale lights of an inn ahead. No other structure was ever lit up as well and so close to the road, signaling to all travelers that rest and repose was soon within reach—it was a cheerful beacon that was meant to feel hard to pass by. A low roof ran along the front of the building, with oil lamps hanging in intervals.

Marcus swerved into the empty innyard, all the hostlers having taken shelter elsewhere. He supposed they would do, not expecting anybody to turn up in this weather. He leapt off his horse and tied him to a railing under the roof and out of the worst of the rain.

That’s when he saw her.

The dining room of the inn was lit like blazes. The curtains had not been closed. There was Lady Patience. And somebody. Who was that fellow sitting next to her at the head of the table? Why should she be dining, and laughing no less, with some strange gentleman? Who was he? Where did he come from? What was he doing?

Was he a cousin? Was he a suitor?

A fit of jealousy overtook him. It was a very strange feeling indeed. He’d never been a victim of it and now he felt rather murderous. He’d never felt such an outrage. That man, whoever he was, must be made to depart this instant!

Throwing whatever bit of caution he had left into the howling winds of the storm, he threw the inn’s doors open.

The innkeeper, just this moment becoming aware of his existence, hurried forward. “My lord! The storm, you are in a state. How have you been out in it? And we… goodness me… well we… we are full. There is not a bed to be had. Of course you are welcome to sleep in a chair, oh I really have nothing else to offer! It is terrible.”

Marcus stared incredulously at the innkeeper. “I did not come here for a bed! Why should I concern myself about a bed at a moment such as this?”

Naturally, as soon as he said it, Marcus realized precisely how deranged that had sounded. A man staggers into an inn during a violent storm and claims he did not come for a bed. What else did one come to an inn for but a bed?

“No?” the innkeeper asked, beginning to look a bit wary of him.

“Certainly not. I have come to see the Duke of Pelham’s party. This instant.”

Marcus could not avoid noticing that the innkeeper was now looking rather frightened and surreptitiously glancing at the dining room doors. He supposed he must paint a rather alarming sight just now, considering his recent encounter with the weather. And as he’d claimed he had no use for a bed, he might even seem a bit of a madman.

“Now, my lord,” the innkeeper said soothingly, “you are a lord, I think? Of course you are, you are a gentleman. Why don’t I take you to our cozy little snug and fetch you something warming and then we’ll see what ought to be done. As a gentleman.”

The man was attempting to put him off. He was trying to soothe the madman with hints that he ought to remember he was a gentleman. But he would not be put off. “I already know what ought to be done,” he said. He turned to the doors to the private dining room and shrugged the innkeeper off as if he were no more trouble than a fly.

“I will not have violence on the premises, my lord,” the innkeeper called after him. “If you would fight the duke, you must take him elsewhere!”

Marcus threw the dining room doors open. “Lady Patience,” he said. “There you are.”