Marrying Miss Martha by Anna Jacobs Page B

stopped talking to grunt in pain as the carriage bumped into and out of a series of particularly large potholes.
    Martha made the introductions for the ladies.
    It was a moment or two before the man could reply, then he started speaking but couldn’t finish his sentence, “Pleased to meet you. Grateful . . . ” For the next few minutes, while they continued to watch him anxiously, he remained slumped in the corner with his eyes closed.
    Suddenly he roused himself again, blinking across at Martha. “May I inquire where you're heading, Miss Merridene?”
    “We're making for a town called Tapton. Perhaps you know it?”
    “Tapton!” He let out a bitter laugh. “The last place to which anyone as kind as yourselves should be going!”
    “Brindley!” Penelope exclaimed suddenly. “One of the millowners in Tapton is called Brindley. Are you related?”
    “He’s my father. Ah, I see you know of him. He’s a hard man.”
    “Yes. So I gather.” Penelope’s tone was curt. She didn’t like to hear him speak so disloyally of his father to strangers.
    She remembered the riot in Tapton and the fact that this man’s father was the one who had brought in troublemakers. She compared Peter Brindley to Daniel Porter and found him greatly lacking. Daniel might not be a gentleman, but he had an open countenance and blunt, honest speech. This man had tried to overlay his northern accent with a more refined one and succeeded only in sounding affected.
    “I think you would do better to lie back quietly and conserve your energy, Mr Brindley,” she said quietly.
    A sigh was her only answer.
    When she glanced out of the window she saw that the snow had now all but covered the grimy-looking winter grass in the fields, though it was not yet too deep to prevent travel, nor did it seem to her to be falling as thickly. But perhaps that was wishful thinking.
    Mr Brindley kept quiet for a few moments, then asked abruptly, “Did you say you were going to Tapton?”
    “Yes.”
    “I wonder . . . Could I beg you to take me with you? The thing is—I've run out of money. Spent my last few guineas on hiring that carriage and unless there's somewhere I can pawn my watch in the next village, I won't have enough even to pay for a night's lodgings, let alone a doctor.” He saw that they were looking at him in disapproval and flushed, then bowed his head for a moment, before saying in a low voice, “I've been foolish, I admit. London can be very tempting to a young man from the country. I shall know better next time, believe me.”
    As they still made no answer, he added desperately, “There's no need to worry about the money. My father will reimburse you for anything you spend.”
    Penelope exchanged speaking glances with her sister. “Well, we can’t abandon you in that condition, Mr Brindley, especially in this weather, so yes, we’ll take you with us to Tapton.”
    “Thank you. Most grateful.”
    At the next village they were fortunate enough to find the local doctor just returning from a call. While he attended to Mr Brindley's arm in his surgery, Martha and Penelope were given a most welcome cup of tea by his wife and Sally was entertained in the kitchen.
    The doctor came bustling in to join them after a while. “Well, he bore it bravely enough, but what that young man needs now is to rest. As he insists on continuing the journey, I've given him a dose of laudanum. He should be drowsy enough not to feel the worst of the pain. Relative of yours, is he?”
    Martha answered. “He's a complete stranger. We came upon him just after the accident and were able to be of assistance, but as it seems that we have the same destination, we've agreed to take him on to Tapton with us. He’s—er—anxious to rejoin his family.”
    “Well, on his own head be it, then. That'll be half a guinea, if you please. He says you'll pay.”
    After a startled glance at her sister, Martha reached into her reticule and gave the doctor the money. Within ten