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Celia Rees
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SYNOPSIS |
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The changing motion of the carriage woke me. I must have fallen asleep, my senses dulled by exhaustion and lulled by the constant swaying movement. I started awake to the sound of horses' hooves clattering on cobblestones. Outside the day had darkened. I judged it to be late afternoon, although tall buildings crowded out the sky. The coachman called and the horses neighed in answer as the coach turned into a wide inn yard.
'Where are we?'
My companion still said nothing, merely smiled beneath her veil and put one gloved finger to her lips. The coach had come to a halt. I drew back the leather curtain a little more to peer out. The coachman opened the door for my companion to step down. People came running: an ostler to hold the horses, the innkeeper bowing, his wife dropping curtsies. Their eyes widened somewhat as my companion turned back to help me out, but they said nothing. It was as if we were expected. I stumbled slightly, my legs stiff from sitting so long and my head still rocking with the motion of the coach. The hand on mine tightened and did not let go.
We were shown to a spacious room, part bed chamber, part parlour; obviously the best the inn could provide. The landlady brought food and drink: pewter plates laden with stewed meat, mutton by the smell of it, wheaten bread and cheese, a mug of beer for me and wine for my companion.
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