Morgan's Run

“Does Jones know?” Richard suddenly remembered Robert Jones, who was a crawler, smarmed up to Thorne. He was how Thorne knew, definitely.

“I never told him.”

“Then rest easy, Willy. If ye’ve nothing better to do, spend your days here. The Cooper’s Arms is one place Thorne will not look for you. But if you drink rum, ye’ll have to pay for it.”

Horrified, Insell pushed the second mug away. “Do I have to pay for this?” he asked.

“These are on my slate. Cheer up, Willy. In my experience, rogues are not very clever. Ye’ll be safe enough.”

The days were begi

He had worn out two more pairs of shoes, but no one in the extended Morgan family attempted to remonstrate with him; the more Richard walked, the less time he had to drink rum. Brother William suddenly needed to have his saws set and sharpened more often (he pleaded a new West Indian timber), and that gave Richard some other place to walk than Clifton. Who knew? Perhaps the little fellow had gotten himself all the way to Cuckold’s Pill, so the journeys to William’s sawpits were not entirely wasted time. And he could not drink rum when he needed his eye to set a saw properly.

He had not wept, could not weep. The rum was a way to dull his pain, which was the pain of hope, hope that one day William Henry would walk through the door.

“I never thought to say this,” Richard said to Cousin James-the-druggist halfway through September, “but I am begi

His cousin once removed eyed him sadly. Richard was thi

“Two and one-half months, Cousin James! Not a sign of him! Perhaps”—he shuddered—“that abominable creature hid his body.”

“Dear fellow, put it behind you, please.”

“I ca

William Insell did not arrive at the Cooper’s Arms the next day; glad of an excuse to walk out to Clifton earlier than usual, Richard put his hat on and went to the door.

“Off already?” asked Dick, surprised.

“Insell has not come, Father.”

Dick grunted. “That is no loss. I am very tired of him in his corner looking so woebegone that he puts the customers off.”

“I agree,” said Richard, managing a grin, “but his absence is a worry. I will see for myself why he ain’t here.”

The path across Brandon Hill was so familiar by now that he could have negotiated it blindfold; Richard was outside William Insell’s house within fifteen minutes of leaving home.

A girl sat hunched on the stoop. Hardly aware of her, Richard went to step around her. Her foot came out.

“Bon jour,” she said.

Startled, he looked down into the most bewitching female face he had ever seen. Big, saucily demure black eyes, long-lashed—a dimple in either rosy cheek—a pair of lush, unpainted red lips—a glowing skin—an uncoiffured mop of glossy black curls. Oh, she was pretty! And so clean-looking!

“How d’ye do?” he asked, removing his hat to bow.

“Very well, monsieur,” she said in French-accented English, “but I ca

“Insell, mistress?”

“Oui.” She got to her feet to reveal that her figure was as graciously endowed as her face, and fetchingly dressed in pink silk. Expensive. “Yes, Willy,” she added, pronouncing the name so adorably that Richard smiled.

She gasped. “Oh, monsieur! You are very ’andsome.”

Ordinarily shy with strangers, Richard found himself not shy with her at all, despite her forwardness. Conscious that he had reddened, he wanted to look away but found that he could not. She really was amazingly pretty, and the upper halves of two smooth, creamy breasts were even more beguiling than her expression.

“I am Richard Morgan,” he said.

“And I am A

“He is sick, ye say?”

“Come and see for yourself.” She walked ahead of him up the narrow stairs, her dress kilted high enough to see two beautifully turned ankles below a foam of ruffled petticoats. “Willy! Willy! You ’ave a visitor!” she called as she reached the landing.

Richard entered Insell’s room to find him lying on his bed looking very bilious. “What is it, Willy?”

“Ate some bad oysters,” Insell groaned.

A

“Then serves ye right, William. Have ye seen a doctor? D’ye need anything?”

“Just rest,” moaned the sufferer. “I have cast up my accounts so many times that the doctor says there ca

“But ye’ll live, which is a good thing. Without you to confirm my testimony, Mr. Fisher of the Excise Office has no case. I will drop in tomorrow to see how you are.”

Richard descended the stairs conscious that A

“Bon jour, Monsieur Richard,” said Mistress Latour on the step. “I will see you tomorrow, non?”

“Yes,” said Richard, clapped his hat on his head and walked away up the hill toward Clifton Green.

His mind was battling to do two things at one and the same moment: William Henry had to be searched for, yet A

But why now, and why with this woman? Peg had been dead for nine months and by tradition he was still in mourning for her, ought not even to be thinking of his body’s needs. Nor was he a man who had ever dwelled upon his body’s needs. His wife had been his only lover, he had never seriously coveted any other woman.

It is neither the time nor the situation, he thought as he continued to wear out his fourth pair of shoes. It is simply her. A