The Handfasters by Helen Susan Swift

Author:Helen Susan Swift [Swift, Helen Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Creativia
Published: 2012-10-12T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

I had expected that Mr Kemp would have to make a number of arrangements for our journey to God knew where, but instead he insisted that we leave virtually immediately.

“But Mr Kemp,” I protested, for I was unused to such hurried departures. “Why the rush?”

“Because, my dear, the second that your beloved cousin informs Lady Elspeth what you said, I suspect Her Ladyship will race here hot-foot.”

I nodded. Aunt Elspeth could indeed be an impetuous woman, when she was not being infuriatingly efficient. I looked to the door, half expecting her to burst it open and thrust inside, brandishing her parasol and a certificate of marriage. “My goodness, Mr Kemp, let us be off indeed.”

It was only when we had travelled a good quarter mile from the loch, in a direction opposite to Edinburgh, that I thought to enquire where we were going.

“To a little place I know where you will be very snug and quite secure,” Mr Kemp told me, unsmiling. “And it is a place that I doubt that Mr John Forres would ever venture, although I am not so sure about your aunt.” He smiled to me again. “Lady Elspeth is quite a formidable woman.”

We walked as far as the Village of Dean, by the Water of Leith, and here Mr Kemp hired a small horse for me. I did not hear the details of the transaction, for he asked me to wait in the lee of one of the mills, whose wheel churned the water white in a manner reminiscent of the steam boat on the Nor' Loch.

“You mount up,” Mr Kemp ordered gently, “and I will lead. Did you bring a cloak?”

I had only my light pelisse; it was pretty, with fine stitching, but was more suited for the dictates of town fashion than the rigours of the Scottish winter. Mr Kemp, forward thinking man, had found a heavy travelling cloak in bottle green, which he slipped around my shoulders. Strangely, it was scented with some perfume that was slightly familiar, but I could not say where I had experienced it before.

With Mr Kemp walking at my side, we walked up river. So far that January we had been lucky, but now the rain started, weeping through the network of branches above and dripping down upon us. I huddled into my new cloak but poor Mr Kemp had only his jacket to cover him. He did not complain, but walked solidly onward as we passed the various small villages and chuntering mills that lined the Water of Leith.

Now I will not bore you with the tedium of travel, but suffice to say that it is around fourteen miles from the Village of Dean to Malleny Mills on the outskirts of the Pentland Hills, and by the time we arrived I was drooping in the saddle. I am a reasonable rider, but parts of me were distinctly uncomfortable after the haul on the rough road, and I am sure that Mr Kemp was also fatigued, although he did not show it.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.