The Pirate's Tempting Stowaway by Erica Ridley

Author:Erica Ridley
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Intrepid Reads
Published: 2015-11-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Clara was giving her daughter one final hug when the hired hack pulled to a stop in front of Carlisle Manor.

“You know you’re always welcome here,” Grace said firmly. “You needn’t search for an apartment elsewhere if you don’t wish to.”

Yes, Clara did. For everyone’s sake.

She touched her daughter’s cheek. “I shouldn’t be gone more than a fortnight or two.”

“I remember. You want to see what London and the country have to offer.” Grace squeezed her hand. “I want you to be happy, Mama. Whatever you’re looking for…I hope you find it.”

The hack driver presented himself in the doorway to pick up Clara’s luggage. His eyes widened at the sight of nothing more than a small traveling bag. “You waiting on your valise to be brought down?”

Grace sent her mother an indulgent smile. “Buy a few gowns when you’re in the city, won’t you?”

Clara grinned back. She had purchased several new dresses since coming into her inheritance, but after the experience of traveling over Pennsylvania and across the ocean with nothing more than a satchel, a heavy valise seemed limiting, rather than expansive. Whereas a simple traveling bag felt like freedom.

She let the hack driver begin in the fashionable areas of London. The imposing crescents of cold, brick townhouses looked like prisons. No one was outside. Why would they be? The air wasn’t as thick with coal as Whitechapel, but the trees were bare and dreary, and no amount of crossing sweepers could keep up with the vast quantity of horses that left their offal upon the cobblestone roads.

Not the city, then. The country would have cleaner air. Prettier views. Lonelier days.

“Take me to the docks,” she said impulsively.

The driver cast her a startled look. “That’s no place for a lady. Those neighborhoods are unsafe.”

“Are there neighborhoods?” Clara tilted her head with interest. “Show me the nicest one looking over the water.”

He swallowed. “But the Ratcliffe Highway murders—”

“They took place near the docks?” She wondered if London had become less safe since she’d been gone, or if she’d simply been too young to notice it before.

“Near enough. Five years back, on Wapping Lane. Horrible thing, that.” The driver shivered. “Droves of folk flocked from miles to see the bodies.”

Clara swallowed. She would not have wished to see such a sad spectacle. “Did they catch the assassin?”

“Not until he struck again. But he couldn’t hide forever.” The driver nodded his pleasure. “Hung ’imself in his cell, he did. Couldn’t wait for the gallows.”

“Have there been other murders since?” she asked tentatively.

“Oh, no, ma’am. Nothing like that.” He turned his attention back to the horses. “By the grace of God.”

Clara nodded. The incident sounded grisly, but it also sounded like an unusual occurrence.

She wasn’t heedless enough to wish to buy up property without doing additional research, but she also wasn’t afflicted by a superstitious nature. Life had taught her that death could strike anyone at any time. Twenty years of being fastidiously careful had only resulted in her nearly dying alone in her bed as her house rotted around her.

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