Death on the Rocks--A John Rawlings Eighteenth Century British Mystery by Deryn Lake

Author:Deryn Lake [Deryn Lake]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn House Publishers
Published: 2013-10-07T04:00:00+00:00

Fourteen

The ride to Bath was done at top speed, Tom being afraid of missing the connection at Bath. He made the two horses, which had been well rested during their stay in Hotwell, go as fast as they could. Sitting inside the newly upholstered interior, John was a prey to varying emotions. Riding overall was his sense of excitement, but this was tempered by a feeling of dread, of stark fear at seeing Elizabeth after this gap of two years. Not that he was afraid of her as a person nor, indeed, of her temperament, but for all that he feared her coldness, should she choose to be aloof and in high stirrup. But his natural optimism told him that she would not have sent for him at all if that were the case. He tried not to think of the worst that might have happened, as going down that alleyway filled him with mortal dread.

The scene in The Bear in Bath, a comfortable coaching inn, presented the usual excitement that greeted the arrival of the stagecoach. Hawkers and urchins ran about with useless things to purchase, while the passengers, weary and bleary after a night on the road, alighted to take breakfast within. Several people were making this their final stop, so to John’s enquiry came the reply that there was a seat available on the outside at the rear. It was better than nothing and John accepted and clambered aboard. The horses, all four of them, were being led out by the horseman, and four rested replacements were standing by, ready to be backed into the harness. The coachman meanwhile had disappeared into the inn, and the guard, looking rather tired and grumpy, was leaning against the wall talking to one of the maids. Eventually though he heaved himself up beside John and looked at him rather suspiciously.

‘Good morning,’ said the Apothecary brightly.

The guard regarded him stonily but eventually relaxed a little and said, ‘Morning.’

‘I don’t suppose you have many people to talk to on your journey,’ John continued in the same jolly tone.

‘It don’t bother me much,’ the guard answered. ‘I likes me own company.’

‘Well, that’s just as well then,’ John replied.

A few moments later the rest of the passengers came hurrying out of the inn and took their places, three hearty men clambering onto the roof and squeezing in beside the various trunks and boxes. Finally the coachman came aboard and gave a mighty crack of his whip which announced that they were off. There was a general shout and then they were asked to stop again for two late passengers, a rat-faced little man who leapt into the basket – which up to this point had remained empty – and his wife, a most dreary-looking female who appeared generally displeased with life. They immediately started complaining about the discomfort, the noise, the smell of the horses, the bumpiness of the road – in fact their entire journey was one long and continual moan. The Apothecary

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