Holiday in Bath by Laura Matthews Page A

the face Trelenny made, but was not so amused by Mrs. Storwood’s look of concern. “There is nothing to worry you, ma’am. I promise you the Castle will be quite good enough for me, and you and Trelenny will be well looked after here. Shall I go ahead and make the arrangements?”
    “Could we not all stay at the Castle?” Mrs. Storwood asked diffidently.
    “You would not be so comfortable there as here.”
    Mrs. Storwood looked helplessly to her daughter for advice, not sure that she wished to be separated from the efficient escort he provided, and though Trelenny would have relished the opportunity to manage for the two of them, she felt sure her mother would be easier in Cranford’s company. Trelenny said, “I’m sure we would do well to stay together, Cranford.”
    The Castle was a modest inn with but four rooms to let, and though these were clean, the furnishings had seen better days and they had never been more than serviceable. Mrs. Storwood bore this circumstance with equanimity, though she found the staff even less palatable than her surroundings. A surly innkeeper, a saucy maid, and a lazy ostler were their introduction to the Castle, and made her regret her decision to stay there, until Cranford, by a mere tone of voice, helped the staff summon up a due deference for their clientele. But nothing would induce Mrs. Storwood to sit in the cheerless parlor after they had finished their meal, and she retired with her daughter in attendance to the room they had chosen at the rear of the first-floor hall.
    For Mrs. Storwood it had been an exhausting day and she allowed the maid to prepare her for bed without demur. When Alice had left, Trelenny kissed her mother’s brow. “Go straight to bed, Mama. If you don’t mind, I shall just sit up for a moment with the candle so I may look out our route on the map and have the right guidebooks available in the morning."
    Within minutes Mrs. Storwood slept, and Trelenny considered the map on which Cranford had marked their route. She noted that he planned to follow the main mail coach road rather than the more direct road, which would take them to Lawton by way of Warrington instead of Manchester. As she debated the usefulness of arguing this point with him, she heard the sounds of arrival below in the hall and shortly thereafter footsteps along the passage which stopped at the door next to hers. The inn, as has been noted, was not a superior establishment and Trelenny could distinctly hear the murmur of voices through the walls. When the sound ceased, presumably after the landlord or maid had departed, the silence lasted only a short while before Trelenny could clearly hear the sounds of weeping from the next apartment. Nothing so easily stirred her ready sympathy as the thought of someone in distress. For several minutes she sat listening, but there was no abatement to the heartbroken sobbing and, after a glance assured her that her mother’s peaceful sleep had not been disturbed by the sound, she crept to the door and cautiously opened it.
    There was not a soul to be seen, and no way to tell whether Cranford was still downstairs or in his room at the head of the staircase. Trelenny tapped hesitantly at the next door and the muted sounds within stopped abruptly. A frightened female voice called, “Who is it?”
    “Miss Storwood. I am in the room next to yours and I have come to see if I may be of any assistance.”
    “Thank you, no. I . . . that is, you are good to enquire.”
    “Might I just speak with you a moment? To assure myself there is not some service I might render?"
    No answer came, but after a moment the door opened a crack and Trelenny could distinguish a pale face with masses of dark hair and large, moist dark eyes. The girl appeared to be about her own age, though slighter, and considerably agitated, her face streaked with tearstains and her eyes red from weeping. She seemed incapable of speaking, such was the despair under which she labored.
    “I