I smiled fondly at my father. I supposed his fame had spread to every inn on the road from Eversleigh to London. Of course it was only necessary to look at him to sense his importance.
As we stepped inside the inn parlour, I noticed a man sitting there drinking from a flagon. He wore a stylish brown coat and there was a very white cravat at his throat. His brown beaver hat was on the table beside him. I judged him to be in his mid twenties; he was quite clearly interested in our arrival.
“First we will see the rooms,” said my father. “And how soon can we sup?”
“When you wish, my lord, sir. Whenever is your wish. My wife will make sure that you are well served. You will wish to eat privately, will you not?”
“That would please me.”
As we were being led towards the stairs I looked round and noticed that the man in the inn parlour continued to show interest. He caught my eye and half smiled. I looked away quickly.
The rooms were pleasant—a double one for my parents at the. front of the inn, and a smaller one for me at the back. Their windows looked onto the road, mine over the stables to woods and fields.
My father said the rooms would be adequate and when the innkeeper retired, telling us that supper would be served in a small room leading from the inn parlour, my father added that we had been fortunate to find such a place.
“They seem to know you,” said my mother.
“I have travelled this way for years and stayed at a number of inns. People talk. Now you two will want to wash the grime of the journey from your faces. When you’ve done so we’ll eat. Then I think an early night and a good sleep. We’ll travel on at daybreak.”
Water was brought by a rosy-cheeked girl; and soon we were ready. As we were ushered into the private room I saw again the man who had been drinking in the parlour. He gave me a bow as though we were old acquaintances. I lightly inclined my head.
My mother whispered: “He looks as though he believes he has met us before.”
My father replied in a rather audible voice which the man might have heard: “It’s wise not to scrape up acquaintance in inns. One never knows what sort of rogue one can get saddled with.” The door closed on us. We were in a small room where the table was laid for three and hot soup was being ladled into bowls.
“I do hope he didn’t hear you,” I said.
My father shrugged that aside. “It’s true,” he said. “Now let’s see what the food is like at the Green Man.”
It was quite good and after we had eaten we retired to our rooms.
“Don’t forget,” said my father. “An early start. I’ve explained to mine host that we want a quick breakfast at daybreak. He has promised it shall be ready.”
We said goodnight and went to our rooms.
I felt rather tired but disinclined to go to bed immediately. It was always difficult to sleep in strange beds and I did not want the night to seem too long.
I went to the window and sat there watching the activity in the stable yard. Our carriage was there being cleaned by our coachman and postilion. They were chatting idly together as they worked.
I yawned. It would be pleasant to get away from Eversleigh for a while. Aunt Sophie’s death had cast a gloom over us all. I wished Amaryllis had come with us. She was not so fond of the London life as I was. I liked the shops and visits to the theatre; and there was almost certain to be a ball at one of our friends’ houses while we were in town.
While I was thinking of this, the man who had been drinking in the inn parlour strolled out of the inn and paused by our coach. He talked to the men who were cleaning it. He examined the carriage, studying the family crest on the side.
He put his head inside the vehicle and touched the padded seats. Our coachman was talking enthusiastically, pointing out the details of the upholstery and bodywork with obvious pride.
The man leaned against the side of the carriage and went on talking. I wished I could hear what they were saying. I saw him slip some money into the hands of the men and fearful that he might look up, I moved back from the window.
What was he talking about to our servants? And why had he thought it necessary to reward them? Gentlemen often tipped servants, of course—even other people’s. Perhaps he was very generous and considered the details about the carriage which they were giving him were worth paying for.
I went to bed and in spite of its being a strange one, I was soon fast asleep, and the next thing I knew was that my mother was tapping on the door to tell me it was time to get up.
In the afternoon of the next day we arrived at the house in Albemarle Street, our London home. On the first day my father was away on business and my mother and I went shopping—a pursuit we both enjoyed. We bought materials, lace and ribbons and as we were returning home with our purchases I thought I saw the man who had been at the inn.
He was walking down our street and he seemed to pause for a second or so to look at our house. Then I thought I must have been mistaken. There were many men around dressed as he was dressed; and he had been tall—so was the man in the street.
I said to my mother: “Did you see that man?”
She looked round and said: “Yes.”
“Is it the man we saw in the inn?”
“What man?” she asked.
And I did not pursue the matter. I wondered why I remembered him. Perhaps because he had talked to our servants, and I had seen money pass between them.
On the third day my father took my mother to visit some friends. I was not included. My mother said we would all go out in the afternoon. “I should like to take a ride in the Park then,” she said. “Shall we do that?”
I said I should like it.
They had not been gone more than half an hour when the urge came to go out. There was some ribbon I had seen in one of the shops and I thought it would be a good idea if I went along to get it. My mother would not want to go back to the shops just for that.
There was no harm in my going out alone. My mother did not like me to, but then like all mothers she still saw me as a child.’ She had forgotten that I was grown up.
It would not take me long and I should be back before they returned.
I put on my hat and cloak and went out into the street.
There is an excitement about the London streets particularly when one is alone and accustomed to being chaperoned.
The air seemed to sparkle on that morning. There was a kind of frost in it. I decided I would go to Bond Street. Its elegance delighted me. The shops were all inviting with their windows divided into small panes with the displays of goods behind them. There were cravats, perfume, boots of every kind and all of the most fashionable; and the hats—they were a spectacle in themselves.
The carriages rattled by at great speed and I caught glimpses of the stylish occupants. Everywhere was noise and colour. I was fascinated.
I found the shop with the ribbon and bought it. I was in no great hurry to return to the house. I wanted to go on savouring the richness of this urban scene.
There was a moment when I had the feeling that I was being followed. I stopped short and looked round. There were several people about and they all seemed intent on their own business. Did I imagine it, or did I see a tall man in a brown beaver hat turn and suddenly become absorbed in one of the shop windows? No. I was becoming obsessed by the tall man in the brown beaver hat.
As I was about to cross the road I became aware of someone plucking at my sleeve. I turned sharply and looking down saw a young girl. She could not have been more than twelve or thirteen. She lifted her face to mine and murmured: “Please … could you help me cross the road?”
Something about the way she smiled into space told me at once that she was blind. She was neatly but by no means expensively dressed and she looked so helpless standing there that I was touched with pity. “Certainly I will,” I said.