Join date: Jun 19, 2022


As he went to get into the carriage she seemed to come out of a trance and, stumbling towards him, asked, Please, please. How is he? How are they?

The doctor looked her up and down, her odd hat, her cloak, her clogs She looked like a field peasant from the last century, and not a peasant of this country either. He peered at her for a moment before he answered, The young man will survive but Mr Connor is very ill, seriously so. He made an abrupt movement with his head, then stepped up into the carriage, and the driver, after giving her a hard stare, mounted the box, turned the carriage and was about to drive away when a servant came running down the steps, calling, Will! Will! When the coachman pulled the horses up, the servant, gripping the side handle, looked up at him and said quickly, The mistress, she says, you re to go straight on after dropping the doctor and . . . and bring the master s people. You know where.

Aye. Aye. The coachman nodded and cracked his whip and the horses once again sped down the drive.

The servant now looked at the woman standing to the side of the balustrade. Do you want something? she asked.

Janie shook her head.

Did . . . did you come with them?

Janie nodded once.

The servant now looked her up and down. She had never seen anyone dressed like her, she looked a sketch, like a tramp, except that her face didn t look like that of a tramp for it was young, but she looked odd, foreign, brown skin and white hair sticking out from under that funny hat. She said, What do you want then?

Just to know how they are.

The voice, although low and trembling, was reassuring to the servant. She might look foreign but she was definitely from these parts.

They re bad. The master s very bad and . . . and the mistress is demented. The master s brother, he ll pull through. Come back in the mornin if you want to hear any more. Do . . . do you know them?


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