Lieutenant Mayhew's Catastrophes by Emily Larkin

Author:Emily Larkin [Larkin, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Emily Larkin
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Willie woke to the sound of low voices. She blinked her eyes open and saw hay and daylight. Memory came sweeping back. She sat up hastily, dislodging Mr. Bellyrub. He uttered a squeaking meow, clambered to his feet, and shook himself from head to toe.

“Sorry,” Willie said, stroking his tiny head, and it appeared that Mr. Bellyrub wasn’t one to hold grudges, for he butted against her fingers and purred. Then he yawned widely and shook himself again.

Willie yawned, too, and rubbed her face and put her hand to her hair, which felt as tangled as a briar patch. Lieutenant Mayhew and the wagon driver were at the barn door. The lieutenant said something, his voice too low for her to catch the words, but it sounded like a question. The driver replied gruffly.

Willie plucked out her hairpins. She ran her fingers through her ringlets and found them as snarled and messy as she’d feared. She needed a mirror and a comb if she was to repair that, but neither of those things was available right now, so she replaced the hairpins as best she could and made inventory of her situation.

One: chaotic hair.

Two: her gown was still damp, the muslin stained with mud and puckered into a thousand wrinkles—but she could do nothing about that, so there was no point worrying about it.

What was worth worrying about was her ankle.

Cautiously, Willie flexed it. The resultant twinge barely qualified as pain.

So, that was all right. In fact, it was better than all right.

A bath, a comb, and fresh clothes, and she would almost be as good as new.

Lieutenant Mayhew turned his head, saw that she was awake, and crossed swiftly to her. “Miss Culpepper. Good morning.”

“What time is it?” Willie asked.

“Nearly seven o’clock.” He crouched alongside her, smiling. He looked rumpled and disreputable—hair disheveled, golden stubble roughening his cheeks—but not nearly as rumpled and disreputable as she knew that she looked.

Willie told herself there was no point in vanity in situations like this, but she did wish she could wash her face and tidy her hair.

“The rain stopped about an hour ago,” Mayhew said. “Mr. Williams has been out to check the road. The ford’s still flooded, so we can’t go that way, and the oak that came down is too large for his horse to move, but he thinks that you and I can climb over it, and from there it’s less than half a mile to Twyford.”

Willie nodded.

“We’ll be in Twyford by eight thirty,” he promised. “I’ll carry you.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary. My ankle feels much better today.”

His eyes lit with hope. “May I examine it? Do you mind?”

“Of course not.” Willie extended her leg and pulled up her hem a few inches, revealing her filthy stockinged foot and ankle.

The lieutenant examined it as he had yesterday, probing gently with his fingers. It felt ridiculously intimate. Willie’s pulse hammered in her throat and her face felt hot. No, it wasn’t just her face that felt hot; her whole body felt hot.

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