drank a swig
of the ale before climbing down.
He opened the
door of the coach and leaned in slightly. “We has two ladies
needing seats. Could one of you gents go up top and let them
inside?” The driver turned to Ezekiel. “They can pay to be inside,
can’t they?”
“Of course –
I’d hardly ask you now, would I, if they couldn’t?” Ezekiel smiled
affably.
A soldier of
the militia looked out of the carriage window. “Let the maid go
atop. That is no place for a gentleman to be seated. We have all
paid our full fare as agreed!” The man sitting next to him
nodded.
Ezekiel stepped
forward, but Abigail spoke out. She knew the man’s mentality all
too well – servants should be visible when needed, yet invisible
when not. Their needs were unimportant, their duty to ‘serve’.
“I’ll sit above. Napp, you ride inside.”
“No, miss,
you’ll catch your death.” Martha held onto her arm, concern etched
upon her face, as she looked anxiously up to the full height of the
stage, yet still glancing out to the darkness of the moors. Abigail
did not cherish the thought either, but it was a chance to shame
the gentlemen, and hopefully spur one of them into a more noble
action.
A figure
alighted from the other side of the carriage. Abigail saw as he
came around the back of the coach that he was tall and wearing a
caped greatcoat and hat. The gentleman strode over to where Abigail
and Martha were standing. He had a slightly uneven step to his
gait.
“There is no
need for either lady to catch a chill this night. I will ride
above.” He spoke with an air of authority - a confident and
educated voice.
Abigail looked
straight at the man. However, between his hat and the high collar
of his coat there was little enough visible of his features that
she could see clearly in the dimness of the light. She thought he
might have very dark hair, or it could have been a trick of the
lamp’s light. Abigail could not tell for sure. He nodded at them as
he passed, his voice pleasant yet strong. With sure foot he climbed
above to take his position on the upper seat.
Thank you…
sir,” Abigail shouted up to him. “You are truly a kind and
thoughtful gentleman!”
She thought she
heard him chuckle. He raised an acknowledging hand to his hat then
asked, “Now can we please continue on our journey?”
Abigail glanced
up before entering the carriage. She sensed that he was smiling
back at her despite the few drops of rain that had just started to
fall.
The driver
walked over to the other side of the road which surprised her as
she thought he too was keen to be on his way.
“Where’s he
going, Martha?” Abigail whispered to her before using her sense of
reasoning.
Martha shook
her head, glancing at Ezekiel, who was opening the coach door. Two
passengers climbed down from the top of the coach and followed the
driver. Abigail blushed as she realised they were relieving
themselves. She hoped that, in the gloom of night and rain, no one
had heard her question or noticed her discomposure.
Once seated in
the coach, she suddenly felt the full force of the commitment she
was making. Abigail felt the hard seat against her back, choosing
to look out of the window rather than at the faces of those in the
carriage. Staring into the emptiness, she swallowed silently. For a
moment she thought she saw something move in the gloom. Martha’s
fears must be rubbing off on her. She must not cry, must not panic,
she had to be strong for the both of them. Martha squeezed inside
the carriage, half falling onto the narrow seat next to Abigail.
Opposite her, a man wearing the poppy coloured jacket of the
militia stared pompously back, his plumed hat nestled on his lap.
Martha looked down at her own lap and straightened her slightly
damp skirt. Abigail was faced by a traveller wearing a fashionable
coat. He smiled, moving his legs slightly to accommodate hers, but
in the process his knees rubbed against hers in what seemed an
intrusive
of the ale before climbing down.
He opened the
door of the coach and leaned in slightly. “We has two ladies
needing seats. Could one of you gents go up top and let them
inside?” The driver turned to Ezekiel. “They can pay to be inside,
can’t they?”
“Of course –
I’d hardly ask you now, would I, if they couldn’t?” Ezekiel smiled
affably.
A soldier of
the militia looked out of the carriage window. “Let the maid go
atop. That is no place for a gentleman to be seated. We have all
paid our full fare as agreed!” The man sitting next to him
nodded.
Ezekiel stepped
forward, but Abigail spoke out. She knew the man’s mentality all
too well – servants should be visible when needed, yet invisible
when not. Their needs were unimportant, their duty to ‘serve’.
“I’ll sit above. Napp, you ride inside.”
“No, miss,
you’ll catch your death.” Martha held onto her arm, concern etched
upon her face, as she looked anxiously up to the full height of the
stage, yet still glancing out to the darkness of the moors. Abigail
did not cherish the thought either, but it was a chance to shame
the gentlemen, and hopefully spur one of them into a more noble
action.
A figure
alighted from the other side of the carriage. Abigail saw as he
came around the back of the coach that he was tall and wearing a
caped greatcoat and hat. The gentleman strode over to where Abigail
and Martha were standing. He had a slightly uneven step to his
gait.
“There is no
need for either lady to catch a chill this night. I will ride
above.” He spoke with an air of authority - a confident and
educated voice.
Abigail looked
straight at the man. However, between his hat and the high collar
of his coat there was little enough visible of his features that
she could see clearly in the dimness of the light. She thought he
might have very dark hair, or it could have been a trick of the
lamp’s light. Abigail could not tell for sure. He nodded at them as
he passed, his voice pleasant yet strong. With sure foot he climbed
above to take his position on the upper seat.
Thank you…
sir,” Abigail shouted up to him. “You are truly a kind and
thoughtful gentleman!”
She thought she
heard him chuckle. He raised an acknowledging hand to his hat then
asked, “Now can we please continue on our journey?”
Abigail glanced
up before entering the carriage. She sensed that he was smiling
back at her despite the few drops of rain that had just started to
fall.
The driver
walked over to the other side of the road which surprised her as
she thought he too was keen to be on his way.
“Where’s he
going, Martha?” Abigail whispered to her before using her sense of
reasoning.
Martha shook
her head, glancing at Ezekiel, who was opening the coach door. Two
passengers climbed down from the top of the coach and followed the
driver. Abigail blushed as she realised they were relieving
themselves. She hoped that, in the gloom of night and rain, no one
had heard her question or noticed her discomposure.
Once seated in
the coach, she suddenly felt the full force of the commitment she
was making. Abigail felt the hard seat against her back, choosing
to look out of the window rather than at the faces of those in the
carriage. Staring into the emptiness, she swallowed silently. For a
moment she thought she saw something move in the gloom. Martha’s
fears must be rubbing off on her. She must not cry, must not panic,
she had to be strong for the both of them. Martha squeezed inside
the carriage, half falling onto the narrow seat next to Abigail.
Opposite her, a man wearing the poppy coloured jacket of the
militia stared pompously back, his plumed hat nestled on his lap.
Martha looked down at her own lap and straightened her slightly
damp skirt. Abigail was faced by a traveller wearing a fashionable
coat. He smiled, moving his legs slightly to accommodate hers, but
in the process his knees rubbed against hers in what seemed an
intrusive
Similar Books
