His Lady in Breeches

V. Junction of Vinge and Dosett

Maxine rode to the next village, Oakley, for nearly eight hours, mostly because she lost herself quite a few times. She visited the village merely once every year accompanied by a servant to take her fittings for new dresses.

Her stepmother had always insisted that they could go to Wickhurst or Willowfair or even Tiny Town to procure more beautiful dresses, but she had always refused. A small village modiste had always been sufficient. And the tiny village of Oakley had a good modiste who claimed to have been an apprentice of Madam Vernice of Wickhurst.

But by the time she reached the now-familiar place, she found it hard to find a hired hackney at Oakley and was informed by a tavern worker that she would most likely find one at Marsden, a village five hours away on horseback. Considering her horse riding skills, it would probably take her more than that.

She could ride straight to Wickhurst, yes, but she was no fool as well. It would not be wise, really. The farthest she had been from Theobald was Oakley itself. She was not an expert rider, nor was she experienced on road travel. She had heard stories of bandits lurking in dark corners, ready to jump at anyone.

Maxine had nothing much to spare save for the few gold coins she had in her purse. The reason being was the obvious fact that she did not thoroughly plan for this adventure perfectly. Most of it was a product of her own impetuous nature and seemingly low ability to truly discern the consequences of her actions.

Left with no other choice, Maxine guided her horse to the village of Marsden where she hoped she could sell the horse for more coins and find a hackney to take her to Wickhurst. From there, she planned to work and save more money for more what she planned to do in Willowfair.

She could not stay near Theobald. Weary as she may be, her father might catch her in time to bring her back home.

She made one stop to rest beside the road under a lamppost, but not long enough to attract attention. Her back was aching for having been on the horse for hours on end. Her legs were wobbling, but she did not need them so she ignored the screaming muscles as well.

Nearly eight hours later with no food and drink, Maxine reached Marsden. It was bigger than Oakley and a tad busier as well. It was not difficult to mix with the crowd of village folks that walked the streets. The day was nearly ending as indicated by the distant dimming lights from distant holes.

"Excuse me," she said in a low voice, calling the attention of a passing lady. "'Scuse me, miss!" she called out loudly but the woman ignored her, looking over at her once with alarm before briskly walking away.

With a sigh, Maxine continued walking. Where the bloody hell was the tavern? Her horse needed food and rest and she needed to sell it. And she needed food as well.

"Ye lookin' for a tavern?" asked a small voice behind her.

Maxine turned and saw a young boy looking up at her with a smile. She nodded. "Yes. I was hoping to sell my horse and find myself a hackney to Wickhurst."

The young lad frowned at her. "Ye gentry?"

She stiffened. "No."

"Ye talk like one!"

"Well," she uttered, panicking. "Well, I have to, see? Me master required it."

The boy looked at her with assessing eyes before he turned to study her black horse. "Then why ye wanting to sell yer horse? Did'ya steal it?"

Her eyes widened in horror. "'Corse not!"

The boy shrugged. He pointed to the right and said, "Tavern's that way."