Page 6 of Lady Audacious
‘This is it.’
Odile gasped when the gig came to a halt at a pair of dilapidated gateposts that led to a derelict house with rambling, overgrown gardens and unpopulated fields on either side of it.
‘It’s wonderful,’ she said slowly, not taking her eyes from the house with its drunken chimney stacks and sagging roof. She alighted from the gig and the driver passed her valise down to her. The windows were almost completely concealed by climbing plants clinging to the outside of the walls. It would be dark and gloomy inside, always supposing that the windows were still intact, which was far from certain, and yet the peaceful ambiance embraced Odile like a familiar blanket, despite the fact that she was overwhelmed with a feeling that something bad had happened in this house.
This is where I belong.
‘You sure I can’t take you nowhere else?’ the driver asked, showing his first signs of concern and curiosity. ‘Ain’t right for a young woman to be out here on her own.’
The fact that the driver didn’t refer to Odile as a lady was not lost on her. Perhaps he was right and it wouldn’t be comfortable to spend the night here, which had been her intention. Be that as it may, the driver was also right to suppose that she was no lady and could take a little discomfort in her stride. The cold regime during the winter months in Miss Mackenzie’s establishment had been excellent training in that regard.
‘Thank you, but I shall be fine.’ Besides, a female alone could hardly put up at a tavern, which was her only other option.
She paid the man, who touched the peak of his cap and turned his horse back in the direction they had just travelled. Odile stood where she was for a moment and closed her eyes, absorbing the absolute silence broken only by birdsong and the sound of leaves whispering as a gentle breeze blew through the tangled garden.
‘Help you?’
The sound of a rough voice caused Odile’s eyes to fly open. She found herself looking at a man of middle years sporting a thick bushy brown beard and dressed in workman’s clothing. He regarded her incuriously. His shirtsleeves were turned up, revealing the strong forearms of a man accustomed to physical labour. There was no condemnation in his tone, and his expression as he assessed her gave nothing away about the nature of his thoughts.
‘You must be Mr Harris,’ she said.
‘Just Harris. And you’ll be Miss Aspen. You ain’t what I expected, begging your pardon.’
‘You thought I would be older?’
‘Aye, maybe I did.’ Harris inclined his head. ‘I didn’t get much notice.’
Odile smiled at the man, not sensing any aggression in him, aware that it would be important to win his trust. ‘It would take more than one man and more notice to knock this place into shape, I assume.’
‘Aye, it’s barely standing—but can be restored with a bit of patience and enough funds to make it happen.’
‘Well then, I’d best take a look.’
‘Right you are.’ Harris picked up her valise and led her round the side of the house. ‘The front door’s warped closed,’ he explained. ‘I figured it best to leave it that way. Puts off any would-be burglars. There ain’t anything to steal but there are those that would take up residence like, out of the cold and wet.’
‘I see.’
The door to the kitchen opened easily on well-oiled hinges. The kitchen itself was warm, with a range burning, and something that smelled enticing bubbling away above it. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten that day. She had left the school early, before Miss Mackenzie was up and about and could dissuade her from going, and had been too anxious and in too much of a hurry to eat anything.
‘You hungry, miss?’ Harris asked.
‘I am actually, yes.’
He indicated a chair at the rough-hewn kitchen table and without a word, ladled up two generous bowlfuls of vegetable soup. He withdrew fresh bread from the oven and set it on a plate between them. Then without preamble he sat across from her and tucked into his own meal.
‘It’s delicious,’ Odile said after taking a spoonful of the thick soup and a mouthful of soft, warm bread. ‘You are a man of many talents.’
‘I live alone and there ain’t been no call for a cook, so…’
Odile nodded and concentrated upon eating the rest of her meal.
‘You’ll not be living here?’ They were the first words Harris had spoken since remarking upon his own living arrangements.
Odile blinked at him. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Tain’t fit for habitation.’
‘Then we shall have to employ enough people to make it so,’ Odile said briskly. ‘We shall make it a project and I depend upon you to help me.’
