The footmen follow after her, that driver staying behind to watch over the changing of the horses. The pub was modest but well stocked, the alluring scent of good food filling the cosy rooms. The footmen sat with Audrey when she found a nook that suited her, the lines between master and servant blurring for the duration of the journey.<br/><br/>The taller of the two me – Norris – waved over the innkeeper. “Four house beers, one sent out to the driver. Mi’lord, would you like to eat? What’s the options, man?” Norris was forty or so, a little older than her father and very relaxed. The other footman, Aubrey, was only a few years older than she was and had a tight nervousness about his shoulders. It had been he who had been teaching Audrey how to shoot.<br/><br/>The innkeeper said, “It’d be rabbit pie, fresh baked. Meats jus’ right, tender an’ there’s wild mushrooms in’t fo’ flavour. Or there’d be a leg’o ham that’s been maturin’. No’in as fancy as m’ sure your like, but good road food. Keeps the chill out an’ keep you on t’ the next stoppin’.”<br/>