In the Shadow of Arabella Read Free Page A

Charity. As their coach finally approached the outskirts of London, Charity said sleepily, “Thank goodness, we are almost there.”
    “It has been a long day,” Katherine agreed.
    In order to arrive in town early enough to avoid inconveniencing their host and hostess, they had left the inn where they spent their one night on the road at a very early hour. Twelve hours in the jolting coach with only one short stop for a meal at midday had left them tired and hungry. Charity’s maid, Molly, slept peacefully in the corner and the young ladies marveled at her ability to do so. The coach was well-sprung, but the roadway had become rougher as they progressed into the town, yet the bouncing and bumping had not awakened her.
    “I had forgotten how noisy the city is,” Katherine commented, as carriages clattered by and people shouted to one another along the streets.
    “And how it smells!” Charity added. “There is always so much smoke.”
    “As the weather warms, there will be less.” Katherine studied her friend’s frowning face. “Charity, we are going to have a wonderful time, I promise you. Your mother was right; you have been rusticating too long. When was the last time you shopped in London or went to the theater? You used to love the theater.”
    Charity responded with little enthusiasm. “I do love it. But you know how I hate hobbling about city streets. I feel as if everyone is watching me.”
    “If they are, it is only because you are so lovely.”
    “Oh, Katy.”
    “Truly, Charity, I lose all patience with you. So you limp a little! I would be willing to wager that there are at least a dozen plain, well-bred girls in London who would trade places with you in an instant. I envy you myself, you know— your hair, those eyes.”
    “Katy, you are such a liar! You know you would never willingly trade with me. Only look how you love to ride.”
    “I have always insisted you could ride as well,’’ Katherine said. “It is your father who discourages you. Personally, I think riding is the perfect exercise for you. The horse does all the walking while you sit and relax.’’
    “I am never relaxed on a horse,” Charity objected. “They are so big, so unpredictable.”
    “You feel that way because you are unaccustomed to them,” Katherine persisted. “You would soon change your mind if you rode more often.”
    This conversation was interrupted by their arrival at Brent House. They were warmly welcomed by Lord and Lady Brent, who were delighted that Katherine had decided to accept their invitation after all. When she apologized for giving them no warning, they made little of it, saying the house echoed with empty rooms now that most of their children were married and gone.
    The weary travelers were shown upstairs to tidy themselves, and within the hour dinner was served. Lady Brent’s warm good nature, Marie’s bright-eyed admiration of her older cousin and her friend, and Lord Brent’s congenial manners did much to restore their spirits. By the time the young women retired to bed soon after dinner, they agreed that coming to London might be an exhilarating experience after all.
    The following morning Lady Brent took her young guests to the morning room, announcing that they had much news to share. Her questions to Charity concerning their trip south were generously interspersed with tales of her four married daughters and her plans for Marie’s come-out this year.
    Katherine sat with Lord Brent and in no time they were deep in a discussion of horses—a subject dear to them both.
    They had enjoyed perhaps thirty minutes of uninterrupted conversation when the butler opened the door to announce some morning visitors. “The Earl of Rudley, my lady, and Mr. Oliver Seaton.”
    Any casual observer would have judged that the two gentlemen now entering the room were related. Both were tall and much the same height, and although the earl was dark and his brother fair, there was a strong resemblance between