Free The Innkeeper's Daughter by Val Wood

Bella had gone into the bar to help Joe instead of William who had a streaming cold and said he felt ill. He’d been working at a blazing fire in the forge and then walked home in a blizzard three days before and caught a chill.
    ‘I shan’t be able to work tomorrow if I don’t get over this,’ he’d wheezed, ‘and Harry’ll be right mad at me; we’ve loads of work on.’
    His mother had put a hot poker into a tankard of ale and made him drink it and then sent him up to bed so that he’d be all right for the morning; then she told Nell that she would have to put Henry to bed instead of Bella.
    ‘So what’re you going to do, Ma?’ Nell complained and was given a smack for her insolence.
    Bella had washed her hands and face and brushed her hair, put on an apron over her skirt, and then on a whim fastened a small red and white kerchief on her head to keep her hair tidy. It looked quite festive, she thought, without being too merry. The boys had been wearing black armbands since their father’s death but had now discarded them. Only their mother still wore mourning clothes.
    She had just served Mr and Mrs Green with their porter and gin when the taproom door opened. She glanced up with a smile of greeting and heard Joe at the side of her murmur, ‘Here’s your fancy man, Bella.’
    The young man hadn’t heard for he’d turned back to latch the door behind him.
    ‘Good evening,’ Bella said. ‘Didn’t expect you tonight. Weren’t you here last Friday?’
    He laughed and she liked the way his mouth turned up into a proper smile. ‘Am I so predictable?’ he said.
    Bella blushed. ‘We get to know all our regular customers. You usually come every other Friday.’
    She took down a glass from a shelf and raised her eyebrows and he nodded to her unspoken question. ‘Please. A small mild.’
    He was wearing a knee-length wool coat with a deep slit at the back and a warm scarf; he slipped them off and put them on the back of a chair. Beneath his coat he wore a deep blue buttoned waistcoat, a crisp white shirt with a cravat and dark breeches with leather boots.
    ‘You’re right, of course,’ he said, coming to the counter as she filled his glass. ‘I
was
here last Friday, but I shan’t be here next week. It’s Christmas Eve and I shall be at home.’
    ‘Oh, I see,’ she said. ‘Where’s home? Are you local?’
    ‘In the middle of nowhere.’ He smiled. ‘Just outside the village of Hornsea. We can see the sea from upstairs.’
    ‘Oh!’ She handed him the glass and took his payment, and wondered where he was going now or where he had been. ‘That’s nice. I went to the sea once on a school outing. We paddled in ’water and collected shells. It’s a long walk for you. It’s very dark.’
    He took a sip of his drink. ‘I’m not walking,’ he said. ‘I’m riding.’ He hesitated for a moment before adding, ‘I, erm, I lodge in Hull and stable my horse there. I’m a scholar at the Hull Grammar School and come home every other weekend. It’s too far to come every week, and besides, I have to study.’
    ‘Oh!’ she said again. ‘How lu—’ She wanted to say lucky, but thought better of it. Perhaps he didn’t think it was luck; perhaps he thought it was his right. He was obviously in a different position from her, a better standing altogether, where schooling was considered to be essential. So William had been right in his guess. ‘That’s nice for you,’ she murmured.
    He nodded, looking at her over the rim of his glass with dark brown eyes.
    ‘Bella!’ Joe’s voice interrupted her thoughts. ‘Tek over, will you? I’m just going down ’cellar for some more spirits.’
    ‘I’m keeping you,’ the young man said, though there was no one else waiting to be served and Bella wondered why Joe had gone down to the cellar now. There were several half-full bottles of brandy, gin and whisky on the shelves.
    ‘No, it’s all right. We’re not very busy tonight.’
    ‘Bella!’ he said.