Mrs. Hinton pantomimed her shock, one hand going to her chest, her eyes widening and her mouth dropping open. He was a big man, like to fill the doorway, towering over me Jasper and this other man. And hes dressed all in black, he is, from his head to his toes, and hes even wearing a black mask over the top half of his face. Well, I knew who he was, of course, as soon as I saw him, and I was that scared for Jasper, because, well, no matter what everybody said about him, you just never know, do you? Then in this elegant voice, he says, Thank you, sir, I wont trouble you to bring this outside on such a stormy night as this. And he took the glass from him and knocked it backand paid him with a gold coin! I nearly fell off the stairs when I saw that. Then he bids a very polite farewell to Jasper and turns to go, but as he turns, he says, not even looking over at me, And good night to you, too, Mrs. Hinton. I couldnt believe it! Hed spotted me in that little bit of time, but neither of the other two had caught sight of me the whole time they were standing there.
So youve never seen his face? Has anyone?
Not me, miss. Some of the girls in the village say that hes handsome, but theyre just silly romantic chits. I dare swear theyve never seen him even in a mask, let alone without it. He stays to himself, he does. I dont know anyone who knows anything about himnot even where he comes from.
Nicola was sure that if Mrs. Hinton didnt know anything, then no one did. I wonder if he is really a gentleman, she mused. He certainly sounded it.
His hands arent those of a gentleman, Lydia said decisively, shaking her head. I saw em when he pulled off his gloves to take his drink. Theyre big and callused and scarredthe hands of a man whos worked all his life. Not even a gentleman who rides without his gloves has hands like that.
Then how did he learn to speak like that?
The other woman shrugged. Hes a mystery, Miss Falcourt, and thats a fact. Personally, I think he likes it that way. He dont want people to know about him.
Mmm. I suppose that the less anyone knows about him, the less likely anyone would be able to turn him in.
Oh, wont no one turn him in, miss, Ill tell you that. Hes a hero here.
Even if Exmoor offers a reward? Nicola asked. There is always someone in a town willing to talk then. Ill venture that it wont be long before Richard turns to that. He is determined to capture him. He takes the mans acts as a personal affront.
Well, be that as it may, hell have a hard time catchin that one. And anyone who does turn him in better watch his backside around here.
I hope youre right. I should hate for any of the locals who ride with him to be caught. It would mean hanging for them, you know.
Aye, I know. Mrs. Hinton looked somber for a moment, but then her ready smile was back. But they wont get caught. Im tellin you, hes canny.
Having exhausted Mrs. Hintons store of knowledge on the subject of the mysterious highwayman, Nicola turned their conversation to other matters. Finally, Mrs. Hinton rose, saying that shed taken up enough of Nicolas time.
But, if you dont mind, miss, she asked, knowing the answer as well as Nicola did, some of the girls complain about their time of the month, and Granny Rose used to give them something that fixed them right up. Would you be knowing the recipe?
I do indeed. I brought some with me, if youll have someone fetch my bag from my horse.
Of course, miss. Youre a good woman, if you dont mind my bein so bold as to say that. Granny Rose would be proud of you.
Thank you, Mrs. Hinton. That makes me very pleased.
So for the rest of the afternoon Nicola stayed in the private parlor of the inn, listening to the ills of first the servants, then various other townspeople who had heard that she was there and dropped in to seek her help. She dispensed advice and remedies, and when she did not have the decoction that she thought would best cure an ill, she made a note of it and promised to send something to them the next day. Several people came for loved ones who were ill at home, and these Nicola accompanied back to their houses to see the patients and take note of their symptoms herself.
The afternoon lengthened, then died away, and it was growing dark when she turned away from Tom Jefferss house, where she had gone to see his mother, who lay frail and shriveled in her bed, slowly drifting away from life. Nicola had known at once that there was nothing she could do for the woman except give her a tonic to ease the pain the old woman was suffering.
She walked back down the street toward the inn to retrieve her horse, but before she reached it, she saw a mans figure hurrying down a side street toward her, and instinctively she knew that he came for her.
Miss! Miss! he gasped, short of breath. Wait! Dont go.
She stopped, letting him catch up to her. Why, Frank. She smiled at the man, whom she recognized now as the husband of one of the former housemaids at Buckminster. The couple had been married five years now and had four children. How are you?
Not good, Miss Falcourt, not good. He stopped, breathing heavily. Im sorry, miss. We just heard you was here. Its the babyhes sick. He dont sound good, like he can hardly breathe. Lucy was up all night with him, but he just keeps getting worse. Can you come? Lucy fair brightened up when she heard you was here. The young lady can fix him, she says. Can you, miss?
Ill come, of course. She smiled, hiding the sinking sensation in her stomach. She didnt have Lucys touching faith in her skills. She knew that illness in children was worse; they were so small, so fragile. A fever that an adult might endure could carry a child off.
She followed the man to his cottage, where he ushered her into the low-ceilinged room. It was dim inside, lit only by a guttering tallow candle and the fire, which provided heat for the house, as well. A woman sat on a stool before the fire, a small child about two years old wrapped in a blanket in her arms. She rocked back and forth, crooning tunelessly. When she saw Nicola enter the door, she jumped to her feet, a smile spreading tremulously across her face. Miss Nicola! Oh, thank you!
Tears began to fall from her eyes, and she hurried forward, holding the child up for Nicola to see. Youll help him, wont you, miss? You wont let him die!
I will do my best. Now, whats the matter with him? Her question was almost unnecessary, for it was easy to see the flush of fever on his cheeks, and as Lucy handed him over to Nicola, he coughed, a harsh, deep, barking sound.
It sounds like the croup, Lucy. I think he will be all right. We just need to keep that little throat from closing up on him. Put some water on to boil, will you?
Lucy nodded wordlessly and went right to work. Nicola sent the father for a small blanket, while she paced up and down, holding the child and murmuring soothing noises as he continued to cough. When the water was steaming, she had Lucy pour it into a bowl and put it on the table. Then, forming a small tent with the blanket, she sat down and held the child so that his head was under the tent. As the child breathed in the steamy air, his cough began to quiet, then subsided.
Lucy began to cry again, mopping away her tears with the corner of her apron. Oh, miss, I knew you could help him.