Carving for Miss Coventry by Deborah M. Hathaway

Chapter Twenty

Marianne was fairly certain she was going to a place after she died that did not involve eternal peace and rest. How could she have pressed Mr. Steele into doing something that involved so great a risk?

She knew he could have easily refused to accompany her, told father, and she would have been discovered in Wells within a few hours—stopping her chance at attending the assembly. It would have been the ultimate blow, being so close to freedom but only receiving a small bite as opposed to the feast she so desired.

Instead of allowing that to occur, she had absolutely played with Mr. Steele’s emotions in her coercion, and she really had given him no choice but to join her.

Yes, fire and brimstone were certainly in her future.

Mr. Steele returned shortly with his own portmanteau, and she stood in silence with him and Jane until the coach came moments later.

Fortunately, they were the only passengers who boarded the coach, otherwise their hour-long journey would have been fraught with even more misery as they hid their faces in the hoods of their cloaks.

As they situated themselves onto their respective seats—Marianne settling beside Jane with Mr. Steele across from them—Marianne finally removed her hood, leaning far back from the window to avoid any unsuspecting stares.

The horses were changed over, then the coachman boarded the stagecoach, and they were off.

She looked to Mr. Steele with a sigh of relief, but he simply stared out of the window, his leg bouncing up and down, a scowl on his brow.

She’d upset him, that much was clear.

She turned to Jane, the maid’s brow crumpled in worry as she also stared out of her window. There was yet another prime example as to why Marianne was a terrible person. She had coerced Jane—the maid tasked to care for Marianne’s dressing and hair, since Marianne wasn’t quite in need of a lady’s maid—and Jane’s sister to help her with her plan. The sisters were being compensated, but was it worth the risk?

She could not blame them for their anxiousness when her own nerves were as taut as Mr. Steele’s jacket stretching across his broad shoulders. She feared so much. Her reputation being ruined, offending her family, jeopardizing the maids’ and Mr. Steele’s employment.

But she also feared remaining at Daffley Park for the rest of her life without the chance for freedom. Without the chance to dance, socialize, and live.

No matter how her guilt felt seared into her conscience as if with a branding iron, she had come too far and involved too many people to turn back now, hadn’t she? Or did she simply need to find a way to coax Mr. Steele and Jane to be on her side?

“Have you everything you need, Mr. Steele?” she asked.

He nodded, still staring out of the window. “I do, and I’ve had more time to think, so I would like to say that I still heartily disapprove of what we are doing right now.”

The pout of his chiseled lips made him, dare she think it, adorable.

“I am well aware of how you feel, Mr. Steele. Perhaps you ought to sleep on our journey there? You might feel better afterwards.”

“I am not tired,” he said with a sidelong glance. “I am worried.”

Weren’t they all? “You mustn’t be. All will be well.”

“You can promise no such thing.”

Well, that was certainly true. “But is it not better to be positive and seek the sunset through the rain?”

He stared at her, still frowning, though the severity of his stern brow had lessened to a degree. “I never should have told you such a thing.”

She smiled, the air instantly lightening around them. “I am sorry for coercing you into all of this. But I have something that may make up for it.”

She reached into her reticule and produced a small parcel, which she untied to reveal three cherry tartlets. She extended it to Mr. Steele with raised eyebrows and a smile. “They’re a bit crumpled,” she said apologetically. “But what say you now about our little journey? It has been made instantly better, has it not?”

He eyed the tartlets with hesitation, then he accepted the offering with a sigh. “I suppose,” he said gruffly, but his brown eyes shone brighter already.

“What about the two of you?” he asked after taking his first bite, motioning to the remaining tartlets.

“Jane has her own already,” Marianne replied with a motion to Jane’s reticule. Then she placed a hand over her stomach with tight lips. “I already devoured three on our walk from Daffley Park.”

His frown fully disappeared. “I should’ve known.”

She smiled as he chewed his second tartlet. She’d never really thought that a man eating food could be attractive. But then, Mr. Steele apparently made everything alluring—carving, swallowing, chewing… Breathing.

His eyes met hers, and she swiftly looked away. She needed to get ahold of her thoughts and keep her wits about her. She couldn’t afford any distractions today.

When Mr. Steele’s tartlets were gone, he carefully folded the brown wrapping to avoid spilling any of the crumbs left behind. “How did you come to find out about an assembly in Wells anyway?”

This was good. He was in far better a mood now. Though, she shouldn’t have been surprised. Pastries always made one’s day better.

“Jane’s friend is a lady’s maid for a woman who lives there,” she explained. “Isn’t that right, Jane?”

The maid ducked her head even more—which Marianne had not thought was possible—and nodded her head in silence.

Marianne would have to pay the girl more to make up for the trauma she was putting her through.

“You’re certain no one will recognize you if you attend?”

His eyes were wary, but he no longer looked upset. Thank heavens.

“Yes,” she stated firmly. “Anyone who would have attended the assembly will be at the ball in Ashwick. As I said before, I know no one in Wells. The assembly will certainly be large enough for me to blend in perfectly with the crowds, though small enough to not attract many outsiders.”

The entire way the plan had come about was so coincidental, Marianne believed it to be providential. When she’d overheard Jane and her sister discussing the assembly, everything had fallen into place. Marianne’s desperation had taken hold of the reins and brought them to where they were now—in a carriage, running away from Daffley Park.

Mr. Steele merely nodded, then he took to staring at the green fields they passed by.

The coach fell into silence once again. Unfortunately, with that silence, Marianne’s thoughts began to wander, and her conscience came knocking once more.

How could she have done this? Did she not care what repercussions could come? It was true, she had accounted for every possible thing that could go wrong. But then, there were no guarantees. Suppose she was discovered and her family disgraced? She and Beatrice would never have the chance to marry gentlemen, then. Their parents would be so disappointed, not to mention heartbroken.

The worst of it all was what she’d tried to ignore from the beginning. If she was discovered with Mr. Steele, what would become of him? She, of course, would vouch for his personal character, and she would go down fighting to the end to have him keep his work at Daffley. But...would Father really keep him on?

By the time they reached Wells more than an hour later, Marianne was fairly certain she was going to relieve the contents of her stomach. Never mind that they’d already made it to Wells and that she’d already risked so much to get there. She was finished. She’d put too many people’s livelihoods at risk, and she could not be selfish any longer.

They exited the coach, Marianne and Jane once more hiding within their cloaks as Mr. Steele thanked the coachman and guard then carried both portmanteaus himself. Before they made it two steps toward the inn, Marianne paused, wringing her hands together.

“Mr. Steele.”

But he raised a hand to stop her. “Worry not, I’ve already thought this through. I’ll simply reserve two rooms so we may dress separately tonight. You may both wait out here to avoid us being seen together at the inn.”

He walked forward, but she called out for him. “Wait a moment, Mr. Steele.”

He turned, frowning with exaggeration. “Excuse me, but if I cannot say your name, I’d prefer if you would not use mine, either. We are in this together now, you and I.”

He faced forward.

“Mr. Steele—”

He whirled around with his finger to his lips and a barely refrained smile then made for the inn again.

Marianne would have grinned at his playful behavior, were it not for her continued guilt. Was he truly all right going along with her plan, then? Or was he simply doing so because he had no other option?

She looked away from his masculine stride, moving to the side of the inn where they were further removed from the busying street.

“Are you well, Jane?” Marianne asked.

Jane nodded. “Yes, miss.” Her eyes darted around anxiously.

“You mustn’t worry. Even if we are discovered—which we will not be—you will not be removed from your position at Daffley Park. I will make certain they know that I forced you into this.”

Jane’s shoulders lowered a fraction, and she smiled with gratitude, though the worry in her eyes remained.

Marianne’s worry persisted, as well. If she could not even control her own life, how could she convince Father to not remove the maids from their positions at Daffley? And how could she convince him to keep Mr. Steele on?

Mr. Steele returned with two keys only a moment later, extending one to Marianne. “I’ve placed the portmanteaus in our respective rooms and requested a meal to be sent up for us midday. I would advise you to remain in your room from this point forth to avoid anyone happening on us until the assembly this evening.”

Marianne fiddled with the key between her fingers. Mr. Steele motioned them forward toward the inn, but she hesitated.

“What is it?” he asked. “Do not tell me you’ve lost your nerve now.”

“No.” She paused, pulling her cloak further over her eyes as a couple walked past them. “No, it is not that at all. I’m afraid I’ve developed a conscience.”

He watched her in silence.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, grimacing. “I never should have done this. I put so much at risk. That alone would not be so terrible if I was not also endangering your own reputation and livelihood.”

He huffed a mirthless laugh. “My reputation is not at stake from this, I assure you. You ought to be more concerned with your own reputation by being with me.”

She paused. What on earth did he mean by that? She brushed the comment aside and moved forward.

“I should not have coerced you into such a thing. I will retrieve my belongings now and reimburse you for the rooms and for your troubles. Then we may leave for Ashwick the moment the next coach arrives.”

“At midnight tonight?”

Her heart sank. “The coach does not return until then?”

He shook his head, a small smile lifting the corner of his lips. How was this in any way humorous?

She pressed a hand to her brow. “Then I suppose I shall simply heed your advice and remain in my room until the coach arrives.”

She made to walk past him, but he held out an arm to stop her. “Just a moment. After all you went through to get here, after traveling and scheming and plotting, you mean not to attend the assembly after all?”

She stopped. “I hardly deserve to, especially with the man I’ve deceived.”

He dropped his chin and raised his eyebrows in a dubious look. “Miss Cov—” He stopped, looking around to ensure his blunder hadn’t been heard. “I was aware that you were playing to my conscience earlier. But I assure you, I came of my own accord.”

She shook her head. “You couldn’t possibly have. You never would have come had you not been determined to protect me.”

As she said the words aloud, a bud of warmth grew in her heart. He was trying to protect her. This man, this woodcarver, whom she’d known for a mere few weeks, had sacrificed his well-being, his livelihood, his future…for her. But, why?

She stared up at him, studying his face. He must have sensed her question, as he shrugged and looked away.

“I did what I needed to do. Besides, what would your father have said had I allowed you to go off on your own?” His words were weak, a mask to hide the real reason why he had gone along with her, but Marianne allowed him to keep his knowledge secret.

“Even so,” she said, “I cannot allow you to risk anything further by forcing you to attend the assembly this evening.”

He was silent for a moment, pursing his lips. “What if you weren’t the one asking me to risk everything, and I was simply offering?”

She paused, hope spreading its wings within her heart. But she could not allow the wind to take them. “No, I cannot. What if you lose your work at Daffley because of me?”

A shadow passed over his eyes, but it was gone in an instant. “All is taken care of.”

Was that true? Had Father paid Edward enough to satisfy his debts?

Mr. Steele peered down at her, his gaze stalwart. “You’ve come so far, Miss Coventry. Be brave and take the opportunity for which you’ve worked so hard.”

The urging in his tone and the smile on his lips finally pushed her forward. “You are certain?”

“Absolutely.”

Her chest rose and fell, excitement flooding her senses. “Very well, Mr. Steele. Let us follow through with our plan.”

He grinned. “Excellent. Now, before we do anything else, let us first decide on what we shall call each other.”

“Oh.” Yet another thing she hadn’t taken into account. “But we do not have to worry about such a thing until the assembly.”

“Not if we walk about Wells.”

“But I thought you said…”

He raised a careless shoulder. “Perhaps I was a bit hasty before. We do not need to stay in our rooms for the entirety of the day. Unless you wish it, of course.”

“But will we not be leaving more opportunities for us to be discovered?”

“Your cloak or bonnet will cover you more than enough.” He tugged the hood forward to better cover her face. “We shall be on close alert. Besides, are you here to hide, Miss Coventry, or are you here to live?”

With a shake of her head, she beamed. “You are a terrible influence, Mr. Steele.”

He smiled right back. “As are you. But perhaps that is why we make such an excellent married couple.”

Her heart stuttered, though she did not know why. He was teasing, after all. “Yes, what shall we call each other then?”

“I’ve just the name. The Hickenbottoms.”

She pulled back. “The Hickenbottoms?”

“Oh, yes. They were a very respectable family in Bath when I was growing up.”

She laughed. “Very well, I suppose that will do.”

“It will do nicely.” He offered her his arm. “Come along then, Mrs. Hickenbottom. We’ve a town to explore.”