Thief Taker by Camille Oster

Author:Camille Oster [Oster, Camille]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-09-07T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18:

* * *

The carriage rumbled along slowly after endless hours of exactly the same. It was mid-afternoon and Serephina's back was sore and her shoulders tight. Stretching her neck, she tried to ease some of the tension, but admitted it was useless. Randomly the carriage lurched to the side with the imperfections of the roads.

Mrs. Rushmore was working on her embroidery and would tsk anytime the carriage swayed. Millie read, intermittently sighing with boredom.

Serephina's thoughts kept returning to her tormentor and the quickening tension she felt whenever he entered her mind, particularly as he had stood so close to her. She remembered his scent, dark and spicy. There was no sweetness, no flowers—no softness in him at all. Her eyes closed.

"We must be getting close. I suspect I'm going to have to take this journey more than once," Millie said with a wry smile. "It is a shame they live so far away."

"It will be better once the railroad runs out this way," Mrs. Rushmore said, stabbing her knitting with the needles.

"Is Captain Heresworth already there?" Serephina asked.

"He is supposed to be. It's beautiful country, though, isn't it?"

"Very pretty."

"I shall be happy here," Millie said, almost like she was trying to convince herself.

"And I am sure everyone will be very congenial. It is nice of the Vicar to allow us to stay."

Finally they rolled into a village. There wasn't much to it, but it did have a handful of stores providing to the people living there.

"It's a lovely village, Mrs. Rushmore. I wouldn't mind settling here myself," Serephina said.

"Would you?" Millie said hopefully.

"It's as good as any other."

Serephina looked out the window at the village with renewed eyes. This village was as good as any other. Maybe she should consider her future here as well. It still seemed odd to think as she had always lived in London, making it hard to imagine living in a small village where nothing ever happened. They used to spend summers in the country when she was young and her mother was still alive. She remembered those days fondly, although she wasn't entirely sure what of it had been true and what was conjecture—perhaps an amalgamation of the things she'd read.

The carriage stopped in front of a two-storey house and a couple came out to greet them. The Vicar, Mr. Partington, and his wife. They looked very kind, and must have been as they'd invited perfect strangers to stay with them during this visit with Captain Heresworth's family.

The Heresworths were not the premier family of the district, which was the Bellinghams, but they were a respected family who had lived in these parts as long as anyone could remember. They had a solid position in society—a middling position, well-respected, but of undetermined origins, as opposed to the heights of the aristocracy whose origins spanned back to the Norman conquest.

The Woodfords had been the same—a middling position in society before everything had started to slide. Now they were on the fringes, only solidly part of society by appearance—and her hard work.

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