“I’m not.” The words tumbled from his lips without thought, leaving him rattled all over again.
It was a relief to have the stationmaster, who had finally spotted them, come hurrying up, demanding to be told what they were doing.
The man was understandably confused as to where they, having suddenly appeared as if by magic on his platform, had come from.
Adopting a high-handed attitude, Toby waved the man’s expostulations aside, explaining that they had very nearly missed their stop and arranging for porters to ferry their luggage to the carriages he was assured were available in front of the station.
In short order, he had his family and all their luggage loaded into two horse-drawn coaches for the short ride into the town.
Diana traveled in the second coach with Evelyn, Helga, and Bruno. She’d heard Toby instruct the drivers to take them to the main hotel.
The central square on which the hotel stood wasn’t far from the station, and as the coaches drew to a halt, a nearby church bell tolled for eleven o’clock.
Diana found it difficult to believe that it was only eleven. Since their early breakfast, so many things had happened, she could barely credit that all the action had been crammed into just four hours.
They climbed down to the pavement to one side of the hotel’s entrance. The drivers handed down their luggage; she helped the children retrieve their bags and checked that all were there, then Toby paid the drivers.
She noted that Toby watched and waited until the drivers had vanished back toward the station. Then he turned and met her eyes.
“We’re not staying here,” she guessed.
“No, indeed. This is the first place any pursuers will look for us.” He hefted his and Evelyn’s bags and nodded at the children. “Right, then. Hoist your bags, bring Bruno, and let’s head to a place I know for a nice cold drink.”
The children were eager to follow that plan. They picked up their bags and dutifully fell in ahead of Toby as he directed them all down one side of the square.
Diana walked beside Toby, letting Helga, holding Bruno’s leash, walk behind the children. The confidence with which Toby directed them through the small town’s dusty streets spoke volumes. She glanced at his face. “You’ve been here before.”
“Several times.” He smiled. “I know this area fairly well.” He pointed ahead at where the leafy canopies of trees drooped over a stone wall. “That’s our destination.”
It proved to be a small taverna with a well-shaded courtyard. The stone wall blocked the view from the street, leaving the place feeling distinctly private.
Toby was welcomed warmly by the middle-aged woman in charge. After greeting her, he and Diana settled their company about a large, round table, and Toby ordered glasses of the local lemonade for everyone, clearly pleasing the woman with what sounded like fulsome compliments.
With a beaming smile, the proprietress went inside, and the drinks arrived promptly thereafter, ferried out by a girl and boy who were obviously the woman’s children. They, too, greeted Toby like a long-lost friend, but they didn’t linger.
Everyone sipped and sighed. The lemonade was delicious and refreshing.
Toby sipped, then drained his glass and set it down. “Sadly, we can’t stay for lunch. Sit and enjoy your drinks while I”—he rose and nodded at a nearby building—“go and organize our transportation onward.”
Happy to sit and sip in the shade, they all watched him walk across the courtyard and the adjoining yard and into the long, low building beyond. After watching for a moment, Diana realized the building was the taverna’s stable.
The children questioned Helga about how lemonade was made.
Curious, wondering, Diana kept her gaze on the stable’s open door.
Minutes passed, then Toby appeared, sitting on the bench of a large farm cart and managing the reins of a big, heavy-boned workhorse.
She stared as Toby halted the cart alongside the edge of the taverna’s paved yard, put on the brake, and leapt down.
The children noticed.
“We’re going in a cart?” Evelyn sounded almost as incredulous as Diana felt.
Toby strode toward them, a big grin on his face. “We are, indeed. Our pursuers won’t even think to ask about a farm cart. As soon as you finish your drinks, we can be on our way to lunch.”
The prospect of lunch—let alone of riding in a farm cart, something Diana was certain the children had never done, and indeed, she hadn’t, either—ensured the glasses were quickly emptied.
Soon, they were piling into the cart, which proved to be clean with plenty of fresh straw strewn over the bed.
