The Independence of Miss Mary Bennet by Colleen Mccullough

Author:Colleen Mccullough [McCullough, Colleen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, General, Young Women, Romance, England, Historical, Literary, Historical - General, Fiction - Historical, Love Stories, Regency, England - Social life and customs - 19th century, Romance - Historical, Regency fiction, Social classes
ISBN: 9781416596486
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2009-11-15T08:00:00+00:00

The news was better than Ned had hoped for. With a name like Ezekiel, the groom was obviously a Methodist; to spend Sundays at home would have been mandatory. But I doubt, thought Ned, that the family knows their church-going son Zeke is hand-in-glove with a highwayman. Well, and who could blame a young fellow? No money to call his own with such a father, I’ll be bound; dad’s horses sold to the coach companies and Zeke’s wages garnished for family and church. No hope for a pint or a penny light-skirt. It’s a story I chance upon time and time again.

Gauging his progress accurately, Ned approached the Carmody farm at one o’clock-dinner hour. He found the main gate down the fourth lane he tried, with the name written upon it proudly: CARMODY FARM. Using his eyes to best advantage, he decided there was no other entrance worth taking if the farmstead itself was the goal; yes, this was the way Zeke Carmody would come. What kind of transport the groom would use Ned could not know; very likely he cadged a ride with someone going this way from Nottingham. But Ned took a bet with himself that Zeke walked the last quarter-mile of his weekly trip home.

On Saturday, while Jupiter dozed in its stall with oats in its manger, Ned worked very privately on a curious device: a post to which was attached a horseshoe of a size worn by light draughts, the kind of horse drew the extremely heavy public coaches.

On Saturday evening at ten o’clock he mounted Jupiter and set out for Carmody Farm, at first on the main roads, deserted at this hour. It was fifty miles as Jupiter went, but many a horseman rode a hundred and more miles in a day-couriers, ministers with a widely scattered flock, commercial travellers, those going in a hurry to a sickbed or a deathbed. There was no moon to speak of, but dense clouds of stars lit his way, and Jupiter was sure-footed.

They made good time; he reached his destination before dawn, and settled down to wait in the shadows beneath trees with pendulous leafy branches, not far from the farm’s main gate. His post-and-shoe untied from the saddle, Ned put that and some other things beside him. He was very much on his mettle, blaming himself for the loss of Mary Bennet, and determined that he would leave nothing for any nosy constable to unearth.

Zeke Carmody knew whereabouts Captain Thunder’s house was located, and his tongue wagged. Though the part of Ned that understood Zeke’s needs pitied his lot, which had to be death, not for a millionfold such pity would he have stilled his hand. Fitz was in danger through his, Ned’s, bungling, and that was all that mattered.

A cheery whistle from the end of the lane alerted him. Ned rose to his feet, stretching, and waited in the lee of the bushy trees for his quarry. As the groom passed, Ned swung the post and struck him on the side of his head.

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