Page 4 of An Honorable Arrangement
The carriage rolled into the Crown and Key's yard just before the dinner hour. As soon as Mr. Witman stepped down, the staff flew into action. Men pulled down the luggage as Montgomery handed Sarah and Mrs. Pratt down.
The mistress of the inn rushed over. She was a sturdy woman of perhaps thirty with a kindness about her and one blond curl poking out from under her white cap. "I am Mrs. Flanders. Shall I bring you some sherry, or are you in need of rest before supper?"
"Rest first, I think," Mrs. Pratt said.
Sarah's stomach growled. She'd picked at her lunch and wished she'd eaten more of the bread and cheese they'd settled on before Mr. Witman’s arrival.
With a wide smile, Montgomery sauntered over. "I'm famished. If you will show the ladies their room, perhaps they will refresh and come down for a meal?"
"Of course, my lord." Mrs. Pratt and Mrs. Flanders both spoke as one.
He turned to Sarah. "Will that suit you, Miss Sommers?"
"I am quite hungry as well. I'll just wash my face and be down shortly." It was difficult to not smile when faced with Montgomery Witman's charm. Heat infused her cheeks. Not wishing for him to see her blush, she made a quick curtsy and followed the ladies inside.
At the flowered basin, Sarah refreshed herself while Mrs. Pratt went on and on about how gentlemanly their escort was. Patting her face dry with a cloth, Sarah said, "I'm sure he's not doing this out of the goodness of his heart, Mary. Don't make him into some white knight."
"Sarah, you are too cynical for a girl your age. He swooped in and rescued us perhaps moments before we would have been put out in the cold. Why are you not impressed?" As soon as she’d finished hers, Mrs. Pratt sipped the glass of sherry meant for Sarah.
"I am not cynical. I am a realist. People do not go out of their way without compensation of some kind. But regardless of that, the honorable Mr. Montgomery Witman had no way of knowing the admiral was to arrive today, nor did he know we had nowhere to go. Can we not just say it was fortunate he arrived when he did rather than make him into a savior?" Sarah left her bonnet off but fixed her hair, which had come loose of its chignon.
"This room is very nice." Wisely changing the subject, Mrs. Pratt finished the sherry and brushed out her skirts.
The room was simple but clean. It had a bed large enough for the two of them and a wardrobe should they wish to unpack. Of course, they wouldn't bother with more than the clothes they would wear the following day. A cream and peach rug kept the floor from being too cold. While feeling contrary, Sarah couldn't disagree with the assessment. "It will do for one night."
Shaking her head, Mrs. Pratt sighed. "Shall we go and have our meal?"
Placing one last pin to keep her hair from falling, Sarah gave a nod. "I am ready."
"Do try to be nice to our host. He deserves that much regardless of his lucky timing and unknown compensation." Mrs. Pratt grinned.
Sarah giggled. "Oh, Mary, you do have a way of putting things. I shall do my best to be polite for your sake."
"Thank you." Mrs. Pratt's laughter subsided. "Who knows, you may end up liking our Mr. Witman."
On the stairs to the common room, Sarah stopped. "Do not play matchmaker, Mary. He is not our anything. I have no intention of liking anyone. Someday, I shall make my way to my father, and we shall be a proper family as we always should have been."
All humor gone, Mrs. Pratt said, "If you say so, Sarah dear."
It would be sooner, rather than later if Sarah had her way. The inn's plain but functional common room had two rows of long tables filled with diners in the center. Along the outside of the room were private tables, and at the farthest one, Mr. Witman waited.
When they arrived at the table, Monty stood and bowed before holding out a chair for each of them. His mischievous grin could fluster any woman. "I hope the room is to your liking. My plan is to keep you both happy so you will rave about me to my uncle."
Sarah gave her sweetest smile. "Oh, do you require propping up with your relatives, my lord?"
Sitting, he raised his brows and studied her. "Not in the way I think you mean. My aunt and uncle have always been very kind to me, and as my own fine father is titled, I have means enough, Miss Sommers. I just like for them to think well of me."
Something didn't read quite true in his statement, but as it was of little concern to her, Sarah dropped the subject. "Of course."
People ran toward the front door, calling to each other, and a sense of relief settled over the room. A man yelled a hurrah and a woman cried, “Thank the lord.”
"Whatever could be happening?" Sarah watched the commotion.
The server rushed over. "I'm so sorry, my lord. Please, don't let the ruckus bother you. The post is quite late today, and everyone is in a tizzy about it."
A posting coach was exactly what she needed to find her father and get herself out of this constant shuffling from one kindly family to the next. "What time does he usually arrive?"
"The post to London is two hours late, but he was also late heading west this morning." The red-faced woman shrugged. "I'm sure it will be back on time for the six-thirty pick-up tomorrow morning. Some days, things just go to the dogs."
