Chapter 3

The valises and the laden trunk were by the door. The new vicar’s wife came through the house sniffing and sneering at the humble stone walls and the flagstone floor. She looked down her nose at Clarissa and asked, “No stove?”

Clarissa shook her head. “We had to purchase the stove when we arrived and I informed the lord that I would sell it as I was under the impression you, too, would provide your own.”

The vicar, a pale and leaden man, spoke in a reedy voice. “That’s untenable. The lord should have demanded you leave it.”

Clarissa grits her teeth. She and her mother had done without many small luxuries to afford that stove when they arrived—scented milled soaps and the fabric for a new dress each. Not to mention they’d drunk their own tea weak and very watery for months so her father could have a full measure of tea in his cup. Also to be able to afford that stove. She snapped, “The lord had no say. He didn’t purchase the stove. Perhaps he would be willing to aid you in acquiring a new one.”

She headed for the door, determined to stay not a moment longer. She’d enlisted the assistance of a stout and simple young man from the village to carry her luggage down to the village and he stood by the door, his placid face registering nothing.

“We shall be going now,” Clarissa announced. “If you can shoulder the trunk I can manage the valises.”

He nodded and picked up the very heavy trunk quite easily, his broad muscles rippling below his shirt and thin jacket. A sudden bolt of desire shot through Clarissa. She had no idea what that sudden flush of heat was and chalked it up to the anger boiling through her at the new resident’s high-handed attitudes and dismissal of her hard work to make the place spic-n-span for them.

“Now see here,” the wife said sharply. “You’ve not shown up the gardens or the pantry nor the…”

“I have a train to catch.” Clarissa snapped back. “In case you have not noticed, every single thing in here from walls to floor and beyond, has been scrubbed to the bones to make you feel welcome. I have left you a good store of last year’s jams and jellies in the pantry, and I could have sold them instead. I put fresh stuffing into the mattresses and neatened the yards for you as well. You have no appreciation and while I would like to stand here and let you continue to abuse me, I have other things to do.”

She walked out. Her back was straight and her smile was huge. By God, they could call her impudent all they liked! They could go to Hell for all she cared!

She was free and her train would be pulling into the station shortly. She lengthened her steps and hurried toward the village, the brawny simpleton moving easily alongside her.

The train station came into view and she tendered over her luggage and went to sit on the long bench outside. The passengers who were waiting had come off other trains and one of them caught her eye. He was delicious-looking. He was tall and straight, slightly older—about thirty. His hair, a crisp brown with ruddy highlights, was lustrous and thick, and his shoulders wide and strong below the broadcloth coat.

He gave her a careful scan. Her face flamed and she looked away. He sat beside her and asked, “Where are you traveling?”

“Much the same place everyone else is I expect.” “Saucy, aren’t you?”

The words came out on a laugh. She gave him her sternest look then burst out with, “It’s neither here nor there, not to you, now is it?”

The train approached the station with a screech and a whistle. Clarissa stood, suddenly nervous. She’d never been out of the small and unpleasant place before and now that she was leaving she was seized with a terrible fear.

That fear left her shaken and confused. She held her reticule tightly and took a long breath before dashing into the train to try to find a seat. She sat quickly, trying to scrunch herself into the side of the seat as an astoundingly large woman suddenly plopped down beside her, her bags and cases banging into Clarissa’s sharp elbows and knees.

Desperate Clarissa managed to get past the woman and her belongings but in her haste, she dropped her reticule. Just as she was casting about for it the conductor said, “I need your ticket, Miss.”

“My reticule! I…I’ve lost it! It was…” All of her money was in there. So was her ticket! Horrified and frightened Clarissa cast about. She said, “It must be under her.”

The stranger stepped forward. He said, “She’s in my private compartment. I will see her ticket at the next stop if we do not locate it before then. Please have her luggage delivered to the compartment in the meantime”

The conductor tipped his hat and said, “Of course Sir. I’ll see if I can find the reticule as well. What does it look like Miss?”

“It’s small and gray. There’s a blue ribbon near the top, threaded through the closings.”

Her heart slammed so rapidly against her ribs that she was sure she was going to faint. The man who’d spoken for her guided her down the crowded aisles past the cheapest seats, for which she had bought a ticket, and she wanted to protest but if she did she would have to leave the train and she had no money to board later. Or anywhere to stay while she waited as she had so seriously burned her bridges with the new vicar and his horrid wife.