What Margaret Knows by Mirella Tinley

Author:Mirella Tinley
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: 0
Published: 2018-06-05T18:30:00+00:00

After dining heartily on four courses, Edmund and Isabelle got into a waiting carriage and headed for home. It was just starting to rain overhead, the clouds finally releasing the threat of drizzle they’d been holding over the city all day. Beneath the droplets, the cobbles shone, the hooves of the clattering horses slipping slightly over each one.

Edmund adored the city of Bath at night, where the glow of lights gleamed from windows, dancing in the darkness like summer fireflies. Every house looked cosy and welcoming, and even the public houses lit up with a sort of charm, though the drunkards tumbling out of them were not so pleasant. He could not understand why people feared the dark, though he reasoned he had never been in a position to feel that prickle of terror run up his spine. At night, he went only where he needed to, safely hidden under the cover of shadows, where nobody could harm him.

“I do hope there is a fire going,” Isabelle murmured sleepily. “Spring cannot seem to make up her mind whether she wishes for winter or summer.”

“I am certain someone will have lit one in the drawing room,” he replied, though he could not settle. There was one thing he needed to do before he could enjoy the comforts of home.

They were halfway there, when he called for the driver to stop. Isabelle was already asleep in the carriage, and though he wished to say goodnight to her in case she had gone to bed by the time he returned, he did not have the heart to wake her. She looked so peaceful, slumbering in the corner of the velvet seat, her head leant against the side. No, he would leave her to her sweet dreams.

“Are you wantin’ me to come back for you, sir?” the driver asked, but Edmund shook his head.

“I will find my own way back tonight, Ben.”

“As you like, sir.”

He watched the carriage trundle away before lifting the collar of his coat up to his cheeks in the hopes of keeping out the chill breeze and the strengthening downpour. Turning his gaze away from the retreating carriage, he hurried towards one of the townhouses on the opposite side of the road. In this house, only one light was on, just as it always was.

He knocked four times, glancing over his shoulder to make sure nobody was watching. A moment later, the door opened and he stepped inside. The house itself was not a particularly grand specimen, the rooms mostly bare with no hint of decoration on the walls. It did not need any grandeur, considering what took place within its walls.

“Didn’t expect to see you here tonight,” a gruff voice said, as the door closed behind Edmund. A stocky, barrel-chested fellow in a moth-eaten suit and tattered top hat moved towards him from the shadows, but Edmund was not alarmed.

“Good evening Joe, I thought I might drop in whilst I was passing,” he replied, tipping his own hat to the townhouse’s resident guard.

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