Mrs Bouchée touches Bubba’s hands and holds them at her ample breasts.
“You are all right, my dear?” She gazes into Bubba’s eyes as her words spill out.
“I am well and happy now,” Bubba says. “I shall bring you a large drink,” she adds. “And a little gin perhaps?”
“Yes, my dear, you do that for me!” says Mrs Bouchée.
She watches Bubba rushing away, so quickly. “She is such a gem,” she says, sighing. “We are lucky to have her here. I may promote her to manager after all this!”
“Instead of Ted?” Garty suggests, grinning at the boss lady. He would not like that, he muses.
“You might be right,” she says contemplating the day. “He led us a merry dance today. I am not sure of his character now, a little absurd…” she says, closing her eyes with tiredness.
“Why don’t you retire for the evening? It is rather late, almost midnight,” Garty makes a point.
Bubba appears with a tray of drinks and fresh sandwiches.
“You eat and drink this first,” she orders, smiling at Garty.
Her face is flushed. He has not seen her blush previously. He stares at her for a moment and then looks away. This is interesting, very interesting.
Mrs Bouchée drinks and nibbles on the sandwich. She looks thoughtfully at Garty.
“And where are you staying tonight?” She asks, as usual considering all her patrons before anything else.
“I am not sure,” Garty replies. He has thought about riding back to Etty’s Inn, but now that it is late, he is in a quandary.
“I can sit here, drinking and eating until sunrise tomorrow, and then proceed to Etty’s!” Garty suggests, thinking his movements through.
Mrs Bouchée jumps up like a jack-rabbit and everyone around her stops moving.
“I shall not tolerate that! And if we have any more nonsense about people getting kidnapped I shall take appropriate action.”
Of course, everybody knows that she has no chance of stopping the highwaymen from their evil ways, but she has a right to speak her thoughts and some feel a little awkward.
Garty is not sure if it is safe to stay at The Maud Inn now, he could almost swear that there is a spy here for Axemanix!
However, he is extremely exhausted and his pain is rising slightly, so to stay here is possibly a good idea.
Of course something could happen, but there is a chance that the marauders and moles also need some sleep!
Before he can unravel his thoughts and make a pure decision, Mrs Bouchée interrupts.
“I shall designate your old room,” Mrs Bouchée declares emphatically, brushing crumbs from her coat that had fallen on it as she ate.
“Ellie, where are you?” She calls out loudly.
“Coming Madam!” Ellie's voice replies from a distance.
One hour later, Garty is snoring in his old bed, set in a room of peace and plans.
Now Garty settles down to dreams of exciting adventures and danger, whilst his hand lays quietly on his knife. It is sufficient for one night’s sleep, he deems.
He wakes up staring at a ceiling he knows well and is comforted to see the glistening chandelier staring down at him. Startled, interruption come via a loud knock on his door. Hurriedly he throws on his shirt and pulled on his pants, calling out, “In a moment,” to the impatient knocker.
He rushes so much that he does not have time to fasten his shirt so it hangs open, declaring his strength within his finely shaped and honed muscular body. Despite the fact that he had been incapacitated by his recent wounds, wherein his whole chest has been shaved by the staff at St. Benedicts, his scars make him not appear weaker, but stronger to the naked eye. He caught a glance at his image in the glass and was impressed by his own good looks.
“Good morning, narcissist,” he says to his reflection in the mirror as he hears someone’s footsteps disappearing through the hall.
“Apologies,” he shouts, opening the locked door. He had locked it last night, remembering the disaster he experienced recently by being locked inside the store room. He wanted control of the key this time, he had concluded.
On the corridor carpet lay a finely carved tray with piping hot coffee in a silver pitcher, cream in a tiny jug and a pile of fresh bread, ham and eggs, with freshly cut tomatoes, oranges and grapefruits.
He barely stares at the food displayed before his eyes, a hungry man’s treat, he notes, happily. What seems of more interest is the copy of the local newspaper with a heading that has his name plastered upon it.
He picks up the delivery and closes the door behind him. He read the headlines:
“Young women called!” This is its headline.
On the line below this is an invitation:
“Competition for all young ladies to compete for the crown.”
Below that was a picture of the queen.
The one I gave to the Jael’s Newspaper earlier, with his own picture next to it. Below that in bold lettering:
“All contestants receive the prize of a lovely tete-a-tete with Knight Commander Garty Musdo…, funded by the man himself!”
He can barely take his eyes from the words before him.
“Tete-a-tete, funded by…,” he repeats, becoming angry as he says the words.
He knows what this means!
“This is outrageous,” he hears his own teeth clench and grind with anger.
“Who has ordered this?”
Before he gulps a mouthful of coffee he marches to reception to find Mrs Bouchée, holding the paper in his hand so hard that his hand is blackened by newspaper ink. She is busily serving a customer, so he waits, glaring at every part of the room with impatience. He is furious.
“Garty, what is it? Is the breakfast cold?” she asks him, as her customer is seated at one of the tables before them.
“This,” he says with clenched teeth. “Do you know anything about this?” He asks as his breath almost dissipates with tension.
She stares at the headlines of the local newspaper. After reading for a few moments, she looks up at him over her blue rimmed spectacles. Her eyes are darkened by her secrets.
“What is the matter? This seems like a bright idea that somebody had. After all, it may help to end your search and bring some new folk into your life! You deserve it!”
She has taken him by surprise, twice, and now he feels as if he must succumb to her tricks.
“I cannot do this,” he says at last, choosing his words. After all, she has given him a roof over his head and her sister owns The Etty Inn. Being enemies of everyone will result in bad implications.
“It is immoral,” he says lamely.
His face is red, he feels its heat. But, I will never in a million years stoop to such a low act as inviting young women from everywhere to tete-a-tete’s! And fund it! My parents, if I had any, would be mortified, he reasons.
“It’s a new idea we had last night and ’tis a wonder it is right here on the morrow,” she says licking her bright red lips and nodding to herself.
“Jael, the good printer, must have stayed up all night to get this printed.”
She puts on her defiant look. “Anyway, ’tis too lat to cancel it.”
She marches into the kitchen, busy as usual and he hears her singing some trite song.
“’Tis a bright new day, a day for sunrising…”
Garty turns and marches to his room and decides to eat his breakfast. The coffee is still hot, and everything tastes great as usual. But, the strange taste of a tete-a-tete with possibly hundreds of young women is a bitter pill to swallow.
The woman he has been searching for is invisible and the woman he needs is gone. Why would he need any more females than that?
He had already been to every town, seen hundreds of beautiful young women, so what could this avail? It is definitely a distraction and he is determined not to fall into this trap!
Mrs Maud Bouchée, you always have your way! But, this is the last time you will do this to me!
He resolved to obey this obsessive woman and then run far away from this place for ever.
“Now, I must find my best friend.”
He strides away, leaving the tray outside his door, and finds his beloved Brill nibbling on some wild oats.
“I see you are still taking your wild oats seriously. I am too, Brill!”
He laughs at his own thoughts and shakes his head.
“Let’s go for a long fast ride,” he says, saddling up his horse.
He notices Bubba and Ted in the corner of his eye. They are busily loading feed troughs. This time, he ignores them. He has other things on his mind now and needs time to decide how to handle Mrs Bouchée's night of frivolity. For that is what it should be aptly named, he reckons. My life and times are going down the spout speedily, he thinks, with great anger burning inside his soul.
Garty rides hard all day long, bracing his inner man for a night he wishes to forget before it begins.
Brill responds brilliantly, living up to his name, galloping and leaping over closed gates, privet fences and racing through fields according to his master’s wishes.
They finally stop at a softly flowing stream where Brill takes a drink and Garty dismounts. He pats his horses’s nuzzle and comments as the soft waters gurgle around him.
“How I wish every woman responded as you do, Brill!”
The horse ignores him and continues drinking the sparkling water.
Garty finds a log to sit upon and ponder his future. If Mrs Bouchée did have her way he should be married tomorrow wearing a wife on his arm!
“Hey, Brill, that old orphanage is near here. I can just make out its absurd shape between the trees.”
He must return the files he borrowed, he reminds himself. Reaching down, he sups from the fresh water stream, noticing a few minnow swimming around the bottom. The water is so clear that he can see his reflection and the reflection of a clearing sky.
Several hours of riding causes man and horse to be exhausted, so, having relaxed in a splendid place, with nature near and around him, by the afternoon he is ready to return to his fate.
His scowling face stared back at him and he retreats from this dark mirror of his soul. How mean I appear now! He makes a valiant decision in his own mind. He shall do his best to enjoy a tete-a-tete tonight for one reason only, he is an honourable knight.
“We shall see what happens tonight?” Garty tells his horse, who neighs and shakes its mane in response.
As he rides back towards the Maud Inn, he notices more traffic on the main roadway than is usual in this area, so diverts through the local laneways and byways, ending up on the edge of Scatt. He stops short at the sight of an eye catching monstrosity!
“Look at that, Brill!” The rider tells his horse.