Edenbrooke by Julianne Donaldson Page A

pass the time, and, later, I sat for a while at James’s bedside, until Mrs. Nutley shooed me away. Finally a knock sounded at the parlor door. It was the innkeeper, coming to tell me that a coach was here to collect me.
    The coachman stood in the taproom. He doffed his hat when he saw me. “Pleased to be of service, miss.”
    “Thank you. But before we go anywhere, I must ask you who engaged your services.” I was determined to discover Philip’s identity from someone. This was my last hope.
    He shook his head. “I’m sorry, miss.”
    I glared at him. “Do you mean to tell me that you are not at liberty to disclose the person’s identity?”
    “Yes, miss.”
    I huffed. “Very well. If you refuse to tell me, then I refuse to go with you.” I heard how childish I sounded, but I did not care. That Philip was too much, making everyone play along with his little mystery and making me the object of his game. I could imagine everyone here laughing at me behind my back.
    The coachman cleared his throat. “I was warned that I might encounter such a response, in which case I am to forcibly put you in the carriage myself.”
    I gasped. “He did not.”
    “He did.” He allowed himself a very small smile.
    My frustration turned to anger. Philip was a heavy-handed, impertinent, odious man! What right had he to meddle so much in my affairs? I turned on my heel and tried not to stomp my feet as I climbed the stairs. Betsy was just finishing packing our things. I said good-bye to James, who assured me he was perfectly content to stay right where he was for the time being.
    The last thing I had to do was to settle our bill with the innkeeper. When I approached him with my reticule, however, he said, “No, miss, I’m not to take it. I’ve already been paid handsomely for your stay as well as for anything your coachman might need.”
    I seethed. “I see the gentleman who was here last night thought of everything.”
    The innkeeper hefted my trunk and gave me a big smile. “Aye, that’s right.”
    I muttered insults about Philip under my breath as I climbed into the carriage with Betsy. As we drove away, I was glad to leave behind the strange inn and everyone I had met. In fact, I hoped I would never have to see these people again. Especially Philip. Though if I did, he would surely get an earful from me.
    After stewing for a few miles, I decided that I would not let that man ruin the rest of my journey. My twin sister and a marvelous time were awaiting me, and I wanted to forget about everything that had happened yesterday. So I took a deep breath, pushed aside my frustration, and watched the countryside roll by.
    This carriage was much more comfortable than Grandmother’s, and I did not feel half as ill as I had yesterday. Betsy spent a good part of the ride guessing what Edenbrooke would look like and what the Wyndhams would be like. I smiled indulgently, listening with half an ear to her prattle. Her conversation rarely required a response.
    I sometimes wondered what it would be like to have a quiet maid who knew her place and who did not bother me with her constant chatter. But I could not imagine dismissing Betsy. When my father had arranged for me to go to Bath, Grandmother had insisted I come with a maid. Betsy, the daughter of one of my father’s tenant farmers, was chosen. It had been a great comfort to me to have somebody from home, even if she was often aggravating.
    We traveled through the afternoon, until Betsy ran out of conversation and my sore body protested against the bumps in the road. When we finally pulled off the road onto a long drive leading through woods, I sat forward, eager to see our final destination. But the trees kept us from seeing much of anything until we crested a small hill.
    “Oh, stop, please!” I called to the coachman. I climbed out of the carriage and stood looking down on what I was sure was Edenbrooke.
    The house was impressively large, stately, and perfectly symmetrical, built