Lady in Rags

Chapter Thirty-Three: Hope to Spring

Verity's first impression of Albroke, as the carriage wended its way through the cobbled streets four days later, was of sunlight filtering through budded branches, and faded tudor buildings leering over narrow roads. The Barrow and Pig was one such tudor building, but as peeling and aged as its outside looked, the interior was comfortable, if low-ceiling and narrow-roomed.

Verity stayed under the name Mrs Baker: a lie that made her uneasy, even as she knew confessing her unwedded state might make her an unwanted guest. As they were settling in, the chambermaid brought them a letter that had been left for them yesterday. It was unsigned, but Verity knew it to be from Richard.

Tomorrow morning, at eleven of the clock, in the arbour at the edge of the estate. Go via the west gate.

"If he comes here," Mrs Roper said, "The staff shall know him, and perhaps word shall get to his father. Though, he ought have signed his initial at the least. There is not so much risk in that."

"Do you know the place?"

"Most certainly. It is not a far walk, and very private."

The baby was fidgeting inside her, with the new sort of strength it seemed to be discovering these days. Verity pressed a hand to where it pounded against her side, and paced the room in an effort to soothe it. The journey down, three days by road, had been more of a trial than she had expected. Her joints ached, she was tired, and the baby would not stop kicking. She doubted Richard's integrity – now more than when he had made the proposal. If he was idiot enough to think marrying her would aid her, then he was idiot enough to come up with other useless schemes too.

"If he has brought me down here and it is not important, I shall strangle him."

Mrs Roper laughed. "He makes it very tempting. Shall you have a hot bath?"

"Yes." She massaged the back of her waist. "Oof. As hot as they can make it."

It was raining lightly before breakfast the next day, a delicate sort of sprinkle that shimmered whenever the sun came out from behind the clouds.

"Perhaps we should not go." Mrs Roper was doubtful.

"It looks to clear up." Verity sipped chocolate. In the morning, she was more optimistic. The inn was comfortable: the beds were soft, and the food was good. Most of all, the baby had stopped kicking for the moment.

And it did clear up, and they walked through the damp sunlight towards the Armiger estate at Verity's pace. Mrs Roper took her down side lanes and rabbit paths until they came to a wooden gate in a brick wall, over which loomed masses of dark green tree tops.

"The grounds of the earl's house," Mrs Roper explained. She pushed the gate. It was unlocked and opened without a sound.

Inside, Verity felt vaguely uneasy. She suspected at any moment Lord Albroke might step out from the woods on either side of them. She regretted coming, and mistrusted Richard. But it became clear that there was no one in this corner of the estate at all. They were alone but for bird song and the rustling of animals in the undergrowth.

The path through the woods continue for some way, until eventually it became a tunnel of stone pillars and plinths, veiled along the walls and ceiling by leafy vines growing from stone to stone, through which the sunlight filtered greenly. Richard was leaning against one of the pillars. As they approached, he pushed himself away from it, and bowed.