Jack on the Box Read Online Free PDF Page B

Davies called out to remind him of the time. Then he turned back to the coach, feeling inexplicably glum.
    The change of horses and harness was accomplished in less than two minutes, and Jack hastened the coach onwards over the last leg of his ground, hoping to arrive in Birmingham on time despite the accident. Before they had gone very far out of the village, Davies climbed forward and joined him on the box. He eyed Jack with a curious glint.
    “An agreeable young lady,” he observed, as Jack stared at the road in front of him. “Not too high in the instep, as anybody can see she’d a right to be.”
    “Yes, she was, and no, she wasn’t,” Jack agreed, but not in a tone to invite any  more comments.
    “Saved your hide, she did,” Davies said, winning a reluctant chuckle from Jack. “I’ll have to report the incident on the time bill next stop, but I don’t think I’ll need to mention her in my final report. The contractor back in Shipston gave us a faulty set of harness, that’s all, and the coachman patched the harness so we could proceed.”
    Jack threw him a grateful smile, but was soon staring ahead again, lost in thought.
    Davies smiled enigmatically, then turned to gaze at the horses. Jack was silent for the rest of the journey, and there was a grim, almost brooding air about him. Anyone looking at him might have said that he was a young man who no longer seemed content with the hand that had been dealt to him. And on this particular day, they would have been right.
     

Chapter Three      
     
    The Honourable Cecily Wolverton (for that was his passenger’s name) strolled briskly into the inn in search of a gig to borrow. She was greeted by the innkeeper with much consternation.
    “You may borrow my gig, Miss Cecily, and welcome you are to it, but I will not be having you drive up to your grandfather’s house with no female to companion you. I don’t know what the world’s coming to, but what I do know is your grandfather would rip up at me something fierce if you was to show up at the manor in my gig with no maid! I’ll tell Betsy to go along with you and our Henry will be up there in no time to fetch the gig back.”
    Cecily thought it best not to protest, for she knew the innkeeper to be right about her grandfather’s opinions. She merely resolved to tip Henry handsomely for his trouble. The gig was soon brought round, and Cecily set off on the three-mile drive to her grandfather’s house with her hands on the reins and Betsy at her side.
    When she drew up before the manor, the door opened and more voices were added to the innkeeper’s, predicting dire consequences to her morning escapade. Sir Waldo Staveley was a just master, but there was nothing in his behaviour to suggest that he would condone the arrival of his granddaughter in anything less than his own chaise. Mrs. Selby, Sir Waldo’s housekeeper, was almost beside herself with injury.
    “I will take you to your rooms, Miss Cecily, not but what they aren’t ready for you, as they would have been had you waited for your grandfather’s chaise, which he was sending in nobbut two days. And I will see that your bags are took up. But it’ll have to be Selby what tells him you’ve come in such a hamper-skamper fashion for I’m sure I wouldn’t dare.”
    “I have no bags for the present,” Cecily responded sympathetically, “and I am so sorry for throwing you off keel like this, Mrs. Selby, but I had to do it, and that is simply that. If Selby will be so good as to announce me to my grandfather, I shall explain my irregular behaviour to him myself, and I am certain all will be right.”
    “No bags!” exclaimed Mrs. Selby, more offended by this, it seemed, than by anything else. “I don’t know what things is coming to, Miss Cecily, I really don’t. But,” she added more kindly, seeing a tired look appear suddenly on her mistress’s young face, “you will want to tidy up now and have a bit of a rest. Those mail coaches