Patrica Rice by Mad Marias Daughter

Author:Mad Marias Daughter [Daughter, Mad Marias]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

‘The rain poured steadily throughout the night, and Daphne glanced worriedly to the road every time she passed a window the next morning. Aunt Agatha’s front drive had turned to a muddy river. What could the lane at the bottom of the hill look like? And how high had the river risen during the night?

Perhaps the letter hadn’t gone out in last night’s post. Gordon might have decided against mailing it. Or the weather could have been so bad he hesitated sending anyone out in it. But remembering Rhys working in the stables, Daphne felt inclined to believe otherwise. Rhys would have gone looking for Gordon and the letter as soon as she had left.

So haste was of the utmost importance, but she could do nothing until Gordon arrived to ask Aunt Agatha for permission for her to accompany Melanie to Bath. And looking at the roads, she doubted even Gordon’s expensive steed could wade through the muck.

The rain poured in torrents throughout the day, making it impossible for anyone to come or go. Daphne thought of Evan and his men shivering in the woods and prayed they had the good sense to retreat to someone’s barn.

The knowledge that no one else could travel in the downpour reassured her. There would be plenty of time. Even if the mail coach made it to London in a day, which was very unlikely despite their speed, no one could come from the city while it rained so heavily.

Gordon arrived in a break of the storm the next day. Agatha exclaimed at his daring to brave the roads, but he modestly claimed that he had taken the fields quite safely.

There was no polite way he could send his hostess to another room as he had his sister, and he sent Daphne an imploring look over her aunt’s head. Overly conscious of the proprieties under the circumstances, Daphne could think of no means to ask for privacy. A walk in the gardens was out of the question in this mud. Perhaps it was better this way. She really must think of putting an end to Evan’s dangerous masquerade before even considering Gordon’s courtship, if courtship it were.

She made a gesture of futility and, resigned, Gordon spun his tale of Melanie’s desire to go to Bath. As Daphne had known she would, Agatha left the decision up to her. The arrangements were quickly made, with only the date of departure left uncertain. The rains made travel too dangerous in Agatha’s opinion, and she insisted that they wait until the roads were clear.

Hearing the muted torment behind Gordon’s agreement to this delay, Daphne surmised the letter had already gone out. A bit of fear lodged in her middle and twisted, but she refused to acknowledge it.

It would take time for the letter to reach London. Michael might have already left. Even if he had not, it would take more time for him to call on Robert Griffin, time for Robert to act on it, time for anyone to travel all the way to Devon.

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