Stoker by Jenny Brigalow

Author:Jenny Brigalow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy romance
Publisher: Troubador Publishing
Published: 2022-04-28T00:00:00+00:00

39

Underneath the bridge, Eliza shivered. Her breath blew white, spuming into the night air. Her nose, toes and fingers were numb. She leaned into Polly’s neck for warmth and comfort. Beside her, Fanny was silent, peeping around the mossy, dripping edge of the bridge.

“Is he coming?” said Eliza.

By way of reply Fanny shot back beneath the bridge. Under Eliza’s demanding gaze, she shook her head in warning and put a finger to her lips. Shod hooves trotted down towards them in great haste. Someone was coming.

“Pelham?” Eliza silently worded.

Fanny nodded. Then she let out a gasp of horror as Polly whinnied a welcome.

In panic, Eliza took a hold of the mare’s bridle, pulling her muzzle into the crook of her arm. Polly snorted and huffed, straining to lift her head. Perspiration popped out on Eliza’s forehead as she tried to contain the struggling horse. Her anxiety quadrupled as the rapid trotting slowed to a walk. Then silence. Evidently the poisonous Lord Pelham had paused in his journey. Damn his eyes. And his ears for that matter!

Eliza stared at Fanny as the hoofbeats proceeded once more. However, the pace was much slower than before. Eliza could picture Pelham in her mind’s eye, his pointy nose sniffing her out like a ferret. How she loathed him! If he found her he’d be the sorry one. Eliza Elvidge was a force to be reckoned with. She was no simpering milksop. Not anymore. There was magic in her soul. And power. All she had to do was tap into it. She tensed as the hoofbeats ceased once more. Her heart hammered. What to do?

Fan turned to her then. “Give me the mare,” she breathed gently.

Eliza didn’t want to hand over Polly. Without the mare, she would be severely restricted. It was a very long walk home and it didn’t bear thinking about what would happen if she weren’t back by daylight. But she also saw the logic in Fanny’s request. Pelham wouldn’t recognise Polly. She was a carthorse. Not for carriage or saddle. It would be natural for Fanny to be in possession of such a horse. Reluctantly, she handed over the reins.

Fanny lifted a hand and motioned for Eliza to stay put. Eliza nodded.

Minutes later Polly’s wide rump turned out of sight and her large feet could be heard on the stony, hard ground.

“Well, well, what have we here?”

Pelham’s insolent voice was loud. Eliza felt lightheaded. He must be very close. She held her breath, praying he couldn’t hear the wild palpitations of her heart.

“My Lord,” said Fanny, in an uncharacteristically sweet tone.

Despite her misgivings, Eliza felt a twinge of amusement. Fanny hid her venom well.

“What are you doing, lurking in dark places, Fan o’ the Fens? What mischief are you making?”

Fanny chuckled. A fluting, flowery sound. “My Lord, what kind of mischief would you like me to make?”

Eliza clapped her hands over her mouth to mask an explosion of mirth. How she wished she could see the look on Pelham’s face. She waited, ears on stalks, for his response.

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