Page 24 of An Amiable Foe
She stopped to look at Mr. Osborne in surprise. Although the news was welcome, his voice held more of the hard, unfriendly tone from when she had first met him. She hadn’t the faintest idea what had caused him to turn cold, and it disappointed her. She supposed it did not matter. It would be faster work with both of the gentlemen—and more proper.
“I thank you,” she said and nodded to the gentlemen as she turned to go.
Marianne followed the corridor until she had approached the curtain that closed off Miss Fife’s room, steeling herself to be gracious and kind.
“Miss Fife?” she called out and entered as soon as she heard her companion bid her come in. “I came to see how you got on.”
“My foot is paining me.” Miss Fife sighed and rested her head back against the chair, closing her eyes. “This whole ordeal has been such a trial to me.”
Marianne walked over to her and glanced at the foot that was propped up on the stool before her companion. It did appear to be more swollen than the other foot. She had misjudged her companion.
“I am sorry you were hurt. We must bear the challenges of being out of our new home as best we can.”
As soon as the words were out, it struck Marianne how much she now sounded like the aged companion and Miss Fife the recalcitrant charge. “I am going to the cottage to gather our things. Is there anything you urgently need from your room there?”
“I will need everything brought. I cannot bear the thought of returning there only to be murdered in my bed one day.”
With effort, Marianne refrained from delivering a cutting reply. “I understand, but we do not have the possibility of bringing everything just now. Is there anything you must have that is absolutely essential for the next day or two?”
Miss Fife settled more comfortably into her chair. “I suppose you may bring me a spare dress and my soaps. That is all I need for now. Oh, and my work basket. I will need something to do.”
Relieved to hear nothing further from Miss Fife about how inconvenient she found her life to be, Marianne nodded and turned to go. “I’ll be sure to do so.”
After Marianne left Miss Fife, she went to the front hall where Mr. Wilmot stood. “Oz is waiting outside with the cart. We have Charlie with us as well, but your maid is engaged in washing linens. It will be quick work to have anything you need brought over.”
She followed him outside and squinted against the sun when she saw Mr. Osborne sitting in the driver’s seat of the old cart. It was nice to have the conveyance waiting for her instead of having to go and request it or hitch the horse up herself.
“I cannot thank you both enough for your assistance.”
Mr. Osborne smiled at her and hopped down, circling the cart and offering his hand to help Marianne into the carriage. His grip was firm, and he did not let go until she was seated comfortably. Then he rounded the cart and took the reins again as Charlie climbed in the back.
She did not have long to wonder where Mr. Wilmot would sit; he climbed up on her other side, and she was forced to move closer to Mr. Osborne, who snapped the reins. As he drove down the uneven path, she could think of nothing but the presence of warm male thighs on either side of her. She clamped her legs together so she would not touch them more than she could help, but the jolting of the carriage made such a thing difficult. By degree, she allowed herself to shift into Mr. Osborne.
They drove the short distance to the cottage, and when they arrived, Mr. Osborne pulled to a stop. Mr. Wilmot hopped down and lifted his hand to assist her. It was strange how his hand felt foreign while Mr. Osborne’s had become familiar. She hardly knew one better than the other.
“Just tell us what you most need,” Mr. Osborne said, when she had pulled her hand out of Mr. Wilmot’s.
She went through her mental list, then addressed Charlie, who stood waiting. “I suppose if you can gather the perishables from the kitchen—it makes no sense to waste them—then I will gather the personal effects in each of the three bedrooms and bring them out. I believe I am the only one who ought to perform that task.”
“Don’t suppose we all came for nothing.” Mr. Wilmot was at her side, startling her when he took her elbow to walk her the short distance to the house. “We will provide assistance in whatever way we can.”
Marianne smiled at the ground, unused to the attention. “You have my gratitude.”
As soon as she could politely extricate her arm from his grasp, she hurried through the cottage, going first into her own room. As she folded gowns and placed them in her trunk, she began to rethink the idea of bringing only a few items. It might be smarter to overpack than underpack so that she need not return with the cart again before the cottage could be inhabited safely.
With more haste than care, she placed her most treasured and necessary things in her trunk, then went to do the same in Miss Fife’s room. She took most of the clothes and set out the work basket to be brought, but left some of the less important items, like her letters and books. There were more books in the Brindale library.
In Sarah’s room, there was only one other servant’s uniform hanging on the peg, and a few other items like a hairbrush and tooth powder, all of which were easy to gather and tie up. She brought Sarah’s small bundle to the front door and indicated to Mr. Osborne and Mr. Wilmot where they might retrieve her trunk and the pile of items from Miss Fife.
The gentlemen went over to the staircase just as Charlie emerged from the kitchen carrying the last of their food items. Marianne exited to the outdoors, still holding Sarah’s bundle, and when she dropped it in the cart, she looked up and saw Robert riding toward the cottage. She paused, glad to see him, and waited as he pulled up and swung down from his horse.
“G’day, Marianne.” His gaze scrutinized the contents in the cart before returning to her. “What are you doing?”
She leaned an elbow on the side of the cart and brought her eyes up to his. “Oh, Robert, you have no idea. Someone broke into the cottage last night, and we were forced to go to the castle for safety.”
“You had an intruder here!” he exclaimed. The shock put color into his cheeks. “You didn’t go to the castle in the middle of the night, I should hope? That would’ve been the height of folly. You might have met with anyone.”
She shook her head. “We waited until dawn and then we went. We will be staying in the castle for now. Mr. Osborne does not feel that the cottage is safe, and I agree with him.”
