“Only sleet so far. They’ve to keep to the waybill if they possibly can.”
That gave little comfort. Her whole scheme depended upon catching the stagecoach. Of course it was a boon that the weather would keep pursuit at bay, at least for a time, but if she was marooned, she stood in danger of recapture at any moment. Walter’s lumbering old coach might not make very good speed, but it was fast enough to catch her up if she was stuck in some inn somewhere. Besides, she had insufficient means to pay her shot for days. She’d counted on the meagre amount she’d been able to extract from Cousin Walter’s desk to see her through to the capital.
“I should have broken into his strongbox.”
“Thought you said you aren’t a thief.”
She had not realised she’d muttered aloud. She must be more careful. “I’m not.”
“Whose strongbox? Your guardian’s?”
Apple was surprised into answering truthfully, giving way to indignation. “Cousin Walter’s. And it wouldn’t be stealing because it was Papa’s, and he wouldn’t have kept me short of pin money. But they give me disgracefully little ready money, and Cousin Marjorie has the tradesmen send the bills to her. It is all of a piece and I should have guessed what they meant to do long ago.”
Realising she was revealing far more than she’d intended, Apple clammed up. It was no concern of Mr Dymond’s after all.
“Cousin Marjorie married to this Walter, is she?”
“She is his sister. And if I’d known what a hypocrite she is, I’d have asked Papa to be rid of her long since.”
Mr Dymond’s penetrating gaze intensified. “Seems to me you’re a deal too hot at hand, young lady. Take it this Marjorie has been your chaperon?”
Wrath rose in Apple’s bosom and she could not refrain from bursting out, “How dare you judge me when you know nothing of the matter? I wish I’d had a chance to be hot at hand. And Papa only dragged in Marjorie when I came home from school, for he insisted I must have a female at sixteen. Besides, he was ailing already and Cousin Walter was his heir and Papa said it would serve me better if I was acquainted with Marjorie before — before…”
She stopped, her voice suspended. Apple swallowed down the rising lump in her throat, sniffing as she struggled to suppress the rush of grief.
Mr Dymond said nothing, but he shifted in his seat and a folded handkerchief appeared in front of Apple’s face. She took it, torn between gratitude and defiance. She blew her nose, dabbed the wetness from her eyes and sniffed again, crumpling the handkerchief into a ball. She felt impelled to offer an explanation for her lapse. Not that it was any of his business, but she hated to seem weak. “You need not imagine I’m in the habit of crying about it.”
“I don’t.”
“Well, I haven’t done so for ages. I promised Papa and I’ve kept my word. Only he didn’t know what those wretches had planned for me.”
Mr Dymond, to her surprise, let out a crack of laughter. He held up a hand. “Beg pardon, Miss Greenaway, but there’s no need to sound so begrudging. I’m ready to believe you ain’t in the habit of turning into a watering pot.”
“Well, I’m not,” said Apple, mollified. “Besides, what’s the use of crying? It doesn’t help.”
An odd smile curved his lip. “Very true. Tell me this, child. Have you any money with you at all?”
The lurking apprehension returned. “I have what was in Cousin Walter’s desk, but I’m afraid it won’t be enough if it comes on to snow and I can’t get to London tonight.”
“How much have you got?”
“A few guineas only.” Apple regretted the words as soon as they were out. “But you need not regard it. I don’t know why I told you.”
He ignored this. “You propose to travel to London, alone, with no other destination than this lawyer fellow’s office, I presume, with just a few guineas in your pocket?”
Apple lifted her chin. “Yes, I do.”
Mr Dymond whistled. “You’re not just hot at hand, my girl. If you’re not off your head, you’re the most feather-brained female I’ve ever met!”
“I am not! It’s a perfectly good scheme — if only it doesn’t come on to snow.”
“How far do you think you’ll get, you widgeon? And even if you do reach London, what if this lawyer fellow ain’t there? Where will you stay? Have you any acquaintance in London?”
“Of course I have not. But I can stay at an inn, can’t I?”
“What sort of inn? No respectable house will take in a lone female. You’ve not even got any baggage, let alone a maid.”
Apple’s heart dropped, but she rallied. “Then I shall stay at some inn that will take me.”
