Fenella J. Miller Read Free

flickered from the walls and lit up the space with a golden glow. Molly jumped down beside her, her initial nervousness had gone as the day passed, and she was now as eager as her mistress to enjoy the new sights.
    ‘Shall I stay here and make sure they bring the right trunks in, Miss Roberts?’ For a moment Cassie didn’t respond, but a sharp nudge on the arm reminded her it was she who was being addressed.
    ‘Yes, Molly, please do that. I shall venture inside and discover which rooms we have been allocated for the night. I am sharp set, I hope they have kept some supper for us.’
     * * * *
    The next morning a steady rain fell from leaden skies and dampened Cassie’s enthusiasm for the forthcoming journey into darkest East Anglia. She had passed a comfortable night in a clean, if frugal, chamber, and had eaten a hearty supper of meat pasty and apple pie.
    ‘Shall we break our fast in the parlour downstairs, or have it sent up here as we did last night?’
    ‘Well, I reckon the food will be more plentiful and hotter in the dining room,’ Molly answered from the floor, where she was carefully checking the bags were packed and locked and the trunks securely buckled.
    They climbed into the mail coach with only three other passengers, the young officer, and a woman of indeterminate age dressed similarly to her. Cassie had realised early in the journey that being poorly dressed and plain made one almost invisible. She had noticed Molly had received several admiring glances from the ostlers and pot-boys, but she had been overlooked.
    For this she was grateful, she had no wish to be ogled by strange gentleman; it suited her new persona to be seen as a nondescript governess. If her travelling companions had known she was a substantial heiress she felt sure she would have been treated with far more courtesy.
    She and Ann had discussed her lack of looks on several occasions. She had used to be an attractive girl, with abundant, shining russet brown hair, sparkling hazel eyes and a well rounded figure. But the past years living at Upton Manor had reduced her to the state she was. It suited her for the moment, no one expected a governess to be attractive.
    As the coach rattled through the streets of London she barely listened to Molly’s excited chatter from her position in the window seat. Cassandra was dreaming about the day when she to could have new clothes, and take her place in society where she belonged.
    The journey was long and tedious, the intermittent rain not assisting their passage. They stopped for refreshments at Romford and Colchester, finally arriving at their destination in Ipswich two hours later than the scheduled time. Cassie was worried that Mr Anderson would have recalled his servant long ago and she would be forced to overnight at an inn for the second time.
    The mail coach had stopped to change horses and allow the passengers a twenty minute break before completing the journey to Norwich. Cassie stood with Molly by their trunks and carpet bags hoping that someone would step forward from the milling crowd and claim them. They had been standing outside in the drizzle for a quarter of an hour when a tall figure in a many caped driving coat, a beaver hat pulled low over his ears, appeared from inside the inn.
    ‘Here you are! Have you no sense woman? Did it not occur to you to come in and announce yourself? I’ve been kicking my heels here the best part of two hours, and now you have wasted a further fifteen minutes.’
    Cassie was not sure whether to be offended at his brusque treatment or relieved that Mr Anderson had waited for her.
    Hastily she dipped a curtsy and keeping her eyes demurely down answered softly. ‘I do apologise, sir, I assumed that as we were so late, whoever had come to collect us would also be out here. I had no idea you intended to come in person.’
    He snapped his fingers and two ostlers leapt forward pulling their forelocks. ‘Put the ladies trunks in my carriage and tell my