Will You Love Me in September

We stood still, looking at each other, and in that moment of danger we knew without doubt that we loved and that life would be empty without the other.

Our fears were momentarily lulled, for the arrivals were a party of travelers who, in view of the sudden change in the weather, had decided they could not continue with their journey but would spend the night in the Red Cow.

They came into the parlor noisily and boisterously, invading our privacy and dispersing as they did so that wonderful intimacy I had shared with Dickon. We sat side by side on a settee in a corner of the room while the three men and three women occupied the table and were served with hot pease soup.

The women looked at us with curiosity and gave us friendly smiles. We were ready when they began to ask questions and we told them that we were a brother and sister who were going to York and that our grooms with the saddlebags were following us.

"Two young 'uns like you on the road," cried the eldest of the women. "My patience!

I wouldn't like one of mine to be traveling like that.”

"My brother has a strong arm," I said.

"And proud of him you are, I can see. Well, we're going to York. Best ride along with us, eh, Harry?" She appealed to one of the men.

The man addressed as Harry surveyed us genially and nodded. "Safety in numbers,”

he said with a wink.

The innkeeper's wife came bustling in. "Eee," she said. "Be wanting to stay the night, then?”

"Reckon there's no help for it, missus.”

"Inn's full," she answered. She looked at us all and scratched her head, pushing the mobcap back to do so and then carefully replacing it. "What I'll have to do is give you pallets in the gallery. We call it Makeshift Gallery." She tittered. "Nights like this you often gets more than you've beds for.”

The woman who had spoken to us said that reckon they'd be glad to have a roof over their heads on a night like this was going to be.

The innkeeper's wife looked at us. "These two young 'uns will be in the gallery too. It's all we can offer.”

My heart sank. I could see that these hearty, well-meaning travelers had broken into our magic. We were members of a party now, no longer alone.

"It could have been worse," Dickon whispered to me. "It could have been my uncle to take us back to ... who knows what.”

All during the late afternoon the snow fell so that there was a blanket of it on the roads and the windowsills were covered. Our companions did not mind in the least.

It was an amusing adventure to them. The woman came over to us and asked questions.

What about our poor mother? She would be worried about us, wouldn't she? But she would be thinking we were with the grooms. Had we been a bit wicked? Had we lost them a-purpose?

I thought it was best that they should think we had, and tried to look arch and coy.

"Wicked .... wicked ..." said the youngest of the women, shaking her finger at us. And we came from Thorley Hall, did we? Gentry, eh? Well, she could see that.

It didn't need no sign, like, to tell her. We'd got gentry written all over us ...

the both of us. Never mind, they would look after us. Mercy had it that they, too, were on the road to York. We should go along with them. There were some rough characters on the road. They'd think nothing of slitting your throat for the price of a goblet of ale. Never mind. Luck was with us. We'd fallen in with the Macksons and the Freelys, who were in the business of wool. Partners they were, and traveling to York with their families, all for the purpose of selling wool.

They were kindly, they meant well, and we could not help liking them.

They sang. Their raucous voices filled the inn parlor, and the innkeeper and his wife came in from time to time to supply their needs. There would be sucking pig for supper that night, we were told almost conspiratorially, and there were cries of approval, and one of the men shouted, "And plenty of stuffing, missus.”

"Eee, I'll see to that," answered the innkeeper's wife.

The snow continued to fall; the candles guttered and the company sang. The youngest of the men had a good voice. You gentlemen of England [he rendered] Who live at home at ease / Full little do you think upon The danger of the seas... . And they all joined in at the end of each verse: When the stormy winds do blow ... o ... o ... o ... o When the stormy winds do blow.

And one of the women sang "The frog he would a-wooing ride.”

I knew that whenever after I heard that song I should be back in that inn parlor, with the fire blazing and the snow falling fast outside.

The sucking pig arrived in due course, and we were all one merry party with the other travelers who were staying at the Red Cow. The men talked about the troubles.

"They say the Pretender's on his way ... may even have landed by now.”

"He should stay where he is. Don't he know when he's not wanted?”

I caught Dickon's hand and pressed it warningly, for I was afraid he might betray himself. The company would not be very pleased to have a Jacobite among them.