"Holiday, is it?" The old man's eyebrows shot up to his nearly nonexistent hair line. "Not many folks of quality like yourself come here for such! But as I said, you're welcome and I'll not be called a liar for it. I'm the Alderman here in Abordale, by Stone Brown I'm called. Only... we don't be having much room here. Not right sure where you'd stay. All I could offers is a stall of hay, and that wouldn't do! Not at all." He puffed on his pipe furiously as he tried to think of what to do with her. Pudgy fingers with gnarled knuckles ran through the remains of grey hair that still clung stubbornly to his head, his face a flushed rose hue. There was the Fitters family, young couple who might have a spare room but she was about due with their first; not the best of situations to place a lady of breeding in. Old Widow Nutt had a small room she might spare, yet her irascible nature made that option a last resort. Farmer Oak had too many of his acorns running about the place for anyone to relax. If only the Pearsons were still alive, them with that great big cottage and their orchard...

"There... there may be something we can do for you, miss. Not exactly in town, like, but a not too far a walk if you're up for it!" He glanced down at her fine boots, dainty little things next to his rough worn farmers brogans. Talking of walking while she was wearing those things seemed a might silly, suddenly. The Alderman hurried on. "There's a young man with an orchard down the lane a ways, former soldier who settled with us last year. Nice enough fellow. Victor... what was it again? Oh, aye. Victor Croil. We just calls him Vinegar. Makes the best short batch as I've ever tasted here a bouts! Doesn't talk much but always has a friendly nod and smile for us in the village proper. He's got a fine cottage with lots of rooms I don't think he uses. We can take a stroll... or maybe I should say, grab my cart and take a ride over to him, if you'd like. If you're both agreeable, I'll have my daughter Feather comes as chaperone and maid servant to you. How does that sound then?"

The Alderman was well aware she actually had little choice. The sun was setting, and it was doubtful there would be any other carriages along to whisk her away tonight. Or the next several days for that matter. Arbordale was scarcely on the beaten path for all that it was near the main road to the sea; it was a hamlet that travelers looked at and thought to themselves, 'Oh, how quaint' and then promptly forgot about it as they dealt with far more important matters. But Stone Brown was a kindly man, and the mercy within his heart wanted the young lady to feel as though she was selecting from a platter of options even if there was only one palatable one. She didn't seem that much older than his Feather for all that she was perfumed and scented. A paternal instinct tugged at his conscience, ensuring that he was of a mind to assist her.