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“Just bring me some whisky with my supper. That’ll warm me up quick enough. And bring us any dry clothes you’ve got.”

The innkeeper studied them, then shook his head. “I have a few clean and dry shirts and my wife has a few extra dresses, but none of our clothing will fit you perfectly,” he said. Ford studied the short but sturdy figure of the innkeeper. His trousers would be wide but short that was for certain. And the shirts, no doubt, would bare his forearms. But he had no other choice.

“We will take ill-fitting rather than none,” he said.

“It will cost you extra,” the innkeeper warned.

Ford pulled out another shilling and nudged it toward him. “Will that be enough?”

“Would you need the boots as well?”

Ford looked at his soaked feet and then to Grace’s half-boots peeking from under her skirts. “No, but some woolen socks would be ideal.”

The innkeeper’s eyes twinkled as he smiled, not taking his gaze off the coins on the desk. “My pleasure, sir and madam. Can I have the name, please?”

“G… Gregory,” Ford said, stopping himself before rattling off his real name. They needed to be discreet. “Mr. and Mrs. Gregory.”

Happily counting the coins, the innkeeper appeared to be in a generous mood, as he told them they’d get the best accommodations in the inn.

They followed him up the narrow staircase to the second floor, where he showed them two doors right next to each other.

“Here are your rooms,” he said, beaming at them. He opened the door to the first room, revealing a tiny and cramped space with a single bed, a small hearth, and a little desk by the window. Without hesitation, Grace walked into the room, glancing around with interest.

“Thank you,” she said with a tired smile. “I shall be awaiting the bath and supper.”

Ford let out a quiet sigh as he stepped into his own chamber, which was exactly the same as Grace’s. The thin curtains moved with a draft, the wind howling outside the window.

The most expensive quarters in the inn. Ford heaved a sigh. These will have to do.

He shut the door behind him, feeling the weight of the long journey finally catching up to him. He collapsed onto the hard bed, his eyes closing with the sudden need to sleep.

And he would have slept until the morning if the innkeeper hadn’t returned to his room with supper and fresh clothing. He started the fire inside the hearth, bringing what little warmth was possible into the freezing room.

Ford stood. He might as well clean up before trudging mud all over his floor. He made his way downstairs, his limbs heavy. The innkeeper led him to the back of the inn and handed him a couple of buckets of cold rainwater.

Perfect.

Ford stripped naked and lathered himself with a simple soap standing on the wooden planks in the frigid cold. Scrubbing away the grime and dirt from his travels, he poured cold water over his head. Shuddering from the cold that seemed to seep into his bones, Ford successfully rinsed himself off.

Quickly drying off with a soft towel, he threw on an oversized shirt and loose trousers, securing them with a leather belt at his waist. As expected, his calves and forearms remained exposed, but it would do for the night. Shivering from the chill in the air, he handed his wet clothes to the kindly innkeeper’s wife, who promised to clean and dry them by the next morning. He wasn’t certain it was possible to do that in such a short time, but she said she’d hang them to dry by the large hearth in the kitchen, promising swift results. And who was Ford to argue?

Still cold and rather exhausted, Ford threw her a coin and padded back to his room.

Spending hours on the horse under the pelting rain, then washing himself with a cold bucket of water out on the street, didn’t help the shiver that was ever present in his body. He needed a hot bowl of soup and a glass of whisky, and he wasn’t even certain that would help him warm up.

He only hoped that Grace was having a better time.

* * *

Grace had never felt more grateful for a hot bath in her life. The warm water had soothed her tired muscles and washed away the road dust and grime. She emerged from the tub feeling rejuvenated and content.

She took her time drying off by the blazing fire in the hearth, brushing her hair with her fingers, singing the song her mother used to sing to her when she was a child.

She slipped into the comfortable nightgown the innkeeper’s wife had provided before bringing the bowl of warm soup and bread on the comfortable rug by the fire.

Mmm… She enjoyed these simple pleasures in life when, after a long and tiring day, she was able to sit and enjoy a bit of food by the crackling fire.

There used to be days when this was considered a luxury.