conscience wouldn’t allow her to desert Hetty, not even if she’d be with people as kind and considerate as the Penruthins. ‘I’d prefer to stay.’
The Cornishwoman smiled understandingly. ‘Well, if you change your mind, you have only to tell me. It could all be arranged in a few moments, and you could be with his lordship again in days, rather than weeks. Just you think about it.’
As the landlord’s wife withdrew, Hetty spoke weakly from the bed. ‘Please go without me, madam.’
Rosalind turned a little guiltily. ‘I thought you were asleep.’
‘I heard everything. She’s right, you should go with the signora .’
‘And leave you on your own?’
‘I’ll be all right. Miss Carberry, I’ll feel very bad if you stay just because of me.’
‘Oh, Hetty …’
‘Please tell her you’ll go with the signora , Miss Carberry, and when I’m better, I’ll follow you to London.’ The maid’s eyes were lackluster, but the earnestness she felt could still be made out in them. ‘Please, Miss Carberry.’
Rosalind hesitated.
Hetty pressed her again. ‘I’ll get better more quickly if I know I haven’t stopped you from being with Lord Southvale.’
Rosalind smiled. ‘Very well, Hetty, I’ll go, provided, that is, that the signora will agree.’
The signora was delighted at the prospect of someone to converse with during the journey, and gladly consented when Mrs Penruthin put the matter to her. That night the two prospective travel companions dined together in the crowded inn dining-room, and Rosalind emerged from the experience knowing that the following few days were going to be anything but restful. The signora was a very voluble, plump, olive-skinned woman with shining black eyes and black hair that she wore in a rather too youthful tumble of ringlets. She liked to wear rouge and had a predilection for lace, flounces of which sprang from the ample bodices of her gowns. She also liked wide-brimmed hats sporting waving plumes, items of apparel that didn’t bode well for a journey in the confines of a post chaise. The signora ’s favorite topic of conversation was herself, and Rosalind knew that by the time they reached the capital, every detail of the singer’s life would have been related time and time again.
The chaise was set to leave just after first light the next morning , and it arrived promptly in the yard.
The luggage of both Rosalind and the signora was carefully loaded in the boot, and as the boot was closed, the two women emerged from the inn, followed by the signora ’s maid. Rosalind wore her fur-trimmed cloak over the apricot wool gown, and there was a straw bonnet on her head. Her hair was pinned up in a plain knot, with a soft edging of curls framing her face. It had taken her a long time to achieve the style, but at least she didn’t look untidy next to Signora Segati.
Rosalind settled back in her seat and barely had time to wave farewell to the Penruthins before the chaise lurched forward on the start of its two-hundred-and-fifty-mile journey east toLondon. The horses’ hooves struck sparks from the cobbled street as the postboys urged them up the hill out of the town. As the buildings on the outskirts of Falmouth faded swiftly away behind, Rosalind looked out to see the anchorage of Carrick Roads shining in the sunshine below. The ships looked like toys, far too fragile for the rigors of the open sea, and she tried to make out the Corinth , but the chaise swept over the brow of the moor before she could.
The air was fresh and sweet, a mixture of heather, gorse, and moorland grass, and there were sheep and goats nibbling at the tips of the gorse. Sea gulls soared white against the blue sky, and somewhere beyond the rattle of the chaise she could hear the lonely cry of a curlew. But already the signora was talking, her heavily accented voice commencing the history of her Milanese family.
In spite of the signora ’s endless chattering, it was still possible to
The Cornishwoman smiled understandingly. ‘Well, if you change your mind, you have only to tell me. It could all be arranged in a few moments, and you could be with his lordship again in days, rather than weeks. Just you think about it.’
As the landlord’s wife withdrew, Hetty spoke weakly from the bed. ‘Please go without me, madam.’
Rosalind turned a little guiltily. ‘I thought you were asleep.’
‘I heard everything. She’s right, you should go with the signora .’
‘And leave you on your own?’
‘I’ll be all right. Miss Carberry, I’ll feel very bad if you stay just because of me.’
‘Oh, Hetty …’
‘Please tell her you’ll go with the signora , Miss Carberry, and when I’m better, I’ll follow you to London.’ The maid’s eyes were lackluster, but the earnestness she felt could still be made out in them. ‘Please, Miss Carberry.’
Rosalind hesitated.
Hetty pressed her again. ‘I’ll get better more quickly if I know I haven’t stopped you from being with Lord Southvale.’
Rosalind smiled. ‘Very well, Hetty, I’ll go, provided, that is, that the signora will agree.’
The signora was delighted at the prospect of someone to converse with during the journey, and gladly consented when Mrs Penruthin put the matter to her. That night the two prospective travel companions dined together in the crowded inn dining-room, and Rosalind emerged from the experience knowing that the following few days were going to be anything but restful. The signora was a very voluble, plump, olive-skinned woman with shining black eyes and black hair that she wore in a rather too youthful tumble of ringlets. She liked to wear rouge and had a predilection for lace, flounces of which sprang from the ample bodices of her gowns. She also liked wide-brimmed hats sporting waving plumes, items of apparel that didn’t bode well for a journey in the confines of a post chaise. The signora ’s favorite topic of conversation was herself, and Rosalind knew that by the time they reached the capital, every detail of the singer’s life would have been related time and time again.
The chaise was set to leave just after first light the next morning , and it arrived promptly in the yard.
The luggage of both Rosalind and the signora was carefully loaded in the boot, and as the boot was closed, the two women emerged from the inn, followed by the signora ’s maid. Rosalind wore her fur-trimmed cloak over the apricot wool gown, and there was a straw bonnet on her head. Her hair was pinned up in a plain knot, with a soft edging of curls framing her face. It had taken her a long time to achieve the style, but at least she didn’t look untidy next to Signora Segati.
Rosalind settled back in her seat and barely had time to wave farewell to the Penruthins before the chaise lurched forward on the start of its two-hundred-and-fifty-mile journey east toLondon. The horses’ hooves struck sparks from the cobbled street as the postboys urged them up the hill out of the town. As the buildings on the outskirts of Falmouth faded swiftly away behind, Rosalind looked out to see the anchorage of Carrick Roads shining in the sunshine below. The ships looked like toys, far too fragile for the rigors of the open sea, and she tried to make out the Corinth , but the chaise swept over the brow of the moor before she could.
The air was fresh and sweet, a mixture of heather, gorse, and moorland grass, and there were sheep and goats nibbling at the tips of the gorse. Sea gulls soared white against the blue sky, and somewhere beyond the rattle of the chaise she could hear the lonely cry of a curlew. But already the signora was talking, her heavily accented voice commencing the history of her Milanese family.
In spite of the signora ’s endless chattering, it was still possible to
Similar Books
