In which our heroine takes to the road

Two days spent rattling all over the countryside in ill-sprung coaches, thigh to thigh with her fellow passengers, left Corinna with a pounding headache and a surly mood. The breaks at the posting inns inevitably were too short to not only seek relief but also grab some nourishment, so she made her choice, spent the break time in the lavatory queue, and otherwise made do with Mrs. Tuckles' hamper.

Brewster's arrangements had extended as far as private bedrooms in each of the posting inns, and she mentally thanked him for that. However, since the saggy mattresses tortured her back, and the sheets weren't aired, she slept poorly.

The crotchety groom in the ramshackle gig sent to pick her up in Stow-on-the-Wold did nothing to improve her mood.

Brewster's intelligence laid out in the scroll wasn't helpful either. Mrs. Tuckles had missed her mark when she mentioned changelings. Instead, there was suspicion of treason. As to the details, the papers contained in the scroll were vague. There were long lists of people he had talked to, most of them French, and tables that mapped exactly when and where he talked to them, which made Corinna believe the man was suspected to be a French agent.

Surely, the war was over? How the deuce she was supposed to prove such an accusation on such flimsy evidence was beyond her. In fact, some of the papers mentioned "his lordship's odd ways", whatever those might be.

The man seemed to have a lot of enemies.

As if that weren't enough, the jewels weighed heavy on her mind. Whatever she did, she would have to find a way of returning them first. Unthinkable that somebody should find them on her person. The sheer thought of that calamity happening made the sweat steam from her pores.

On a second thought, the sun burning down from a metal-blue sky didn't help.

Since her wardrobe didn't contain enough sober-hued dresses fit for a governess, Corinna, who was much the same height and built as her parent, had to dive into the widow's extensive wardrobe. She, forever being chilled to the marrow, preferred wool and other warming fabrics to the muslins more suited to the current heatwave. The straw poke bonnet was Corinna's, the only thing on the gig to provide some shade to her flushed face.

"How much farther is it? We've been going for hours."

The groom slapped the reins on the back of the stout brown cob, trotting along at a steady but unexciting pace. "To Delmoral Park?"

No, to Gretna Green, you numbwit.

"It's all of twenty miles, Miss. It takes a while."

From behind sounded an imperial bugle from a post horn and the rapid rumble of wheels.

The groom slowly rotated in his seat--and sprang into sudden action.

"Hoh." He slowed their chubby steed and steered the conveyance to the side of the road.

The next instant, a sporting vehicle flashed by in a blur of yellow wheels and the thunder from the hooves of a black team of four. Dust filled the air and gritted Corinna's teeth.

"That'll be her ladyship." The groom flapped his whip hand at the dust cloud and spat. "She always drives to an inch."

Her ladyship? Oh, the marquis's temperamental stepmother. She expected him to make a derisory remark about the good lady, but there was pride in the man's voice, telling her the Dowager Marchioness seemed to be liked by her servants. Given her outburst on the road, this sounded improbable, but perhaps the woman had been in a fidget because she traveled just as badly as Corinna did.

The cob picked up its former pace and many dusty miles later, the gig eventually slowed and passed two massive gate pillars topped by stone lions holding the Demoral coat of armor.

A closer look revealed them not to be lions. They were too sleek for that. Panthers? They certainly had sharp teeth.

How very bizarre, and certainly not in the usual style.

But then the house came into view and the statues were forgotten.

Built of a warm golden stone, the building was so massive it could have accommodated four Penninghalls without the slightest trouble and gardens to spare.

The front of Demoral Park glowed and sparkled in the evening sun, which meant gold leaf must have been applied to the window frames in lavish abundance. A central pediment in the classical temple style and supported by four columns split the facade. Along the roof marched an array of urns and statues, giving the entire building a whimsical character.

Wide steps led up to the front entrance, but, naturally, this was not where the gig was headed.

For servants, even a reasonably well-paid governess and teacher, the back entrance and stairs would have to do.

But the ample-bosomed housekeeper, Mrs. MacGregor, welcomed her with genuine warmth and the room Corinna was led to cozy and cheerful. It sported white skirting and roses on the wallpaper, the chintz curtains, and even the small armchair waiting next to a modern Chippendale desk on spindly legs.

The room also featured a fireplace, but with the warm air streaming in through the latticed window, it wouldn't be needed.

"Oh, this is lovely," Corinna said.

The housekeeper smiled. "I'm glad you like it. Methinks you'll be exhausted after your journey, but I fear his lordship will want to see you soonest."

Corinna's stomach contracted. This was not a meeting she was looking forward to.

"First, however, I'll have some hot water brought to your room so you can wash and make yourself presentable. I'll also have bread and tea brought to you presently. I take it you will have your meals in your room?"

"Yes." It was customary. Everything else would set the tongues below stairs wagging. "His lordship's niece, I presume, is close by?"

Mrs. MacGregor nodded. "Three rooms down, next to the classroom. His lordship will explain the arrangements. Can you be ready in ninety minutes if I sent up your tea promptly?"No lady would be expected to wash, change and dress that fast, let alone eat her repast, but Corinna was no lady and used to swift changes of her outfits.

"If I make haste, I can."

Mrs. MacGregor gave her a determined nod. "Good. You're efficient. I like that in a person. I'll see that you be provided with all you need. Haversack, that's the butler, will fetch you."

She hesitated. "He--I mean his lordship, not Haversack--hasn't been well recently."

"Oh? I'm sorry to learn that." Once again, that flushed face, the green eyes glittering with wrath, sprang up in her mind like an evil genius.

No, his lordship hadn't been well at all.

Mrs. MacGregor leaned in, a conspiratorial expression on her face. "You'll hear about it anyway, so you'd better learn it from me. His lordship had an embarrassing illness."

What would a lord consider embarrassing? Only one thing came to mind, but surely somebody like him would have a chère amie stowed away somewhere discreet? Or he might have an even more discreet male...friend.

"It was..." Mrs. MacGregor licked her lips.

"Yes?"

"Uh, the mumps."

The what? Of all the things she had expected, it wasn't that. A child's illness? Laughter bubbled up, but Corinna turned it into a snort.

"Really?"

Mrs. MacGregor nodded. "At his age as well. It laid him all prostrate, and her ladyship had to ferry him back here in a hurry."

He also traveled in a hired coach. What could be the reason for such an odd behavior?

"So, it's best, believe me, if you don't comment on his appearance. He's still sickly, not his usual self. And, for sure, don't mention the illness. It wouldn't be taken kindly." With a friendly nod, Mrs. MacGregor was off.

The door snicked shut, and Corinna was alone in her little room that suddenly seemed filled with shadows.

1319 words/10046 total

This chapter is dedicated to fellow ONC author Nytherides  , who writes the fantastically scary tale about Aliki in Wonderland.