Amanda Scott Read Online Free Page B

incipient boredom. She exchanged an amused glance with Lady Cadogan.
    “I daresay we are all looking forward to a change,” that lady said, smiling.
    “Indeed, ma’am.”
    “’Tis early days yet, of course, but I daresay we shall not find Barmouth thin of company.”
    “Who will be there, do you think?” demanded Gwenyth.
    Meriel leaned back, settling herself more comfortably against the squabs, as the conversation drifted on between her sisters and Lady Cadogan. It did not much matter to her who might be in Barmouth, so long as the Earl of Uxbridge was there with the papers he had promised to obtain for her. The three days they would pass waiting for the packet boat that would carry them south along the rugged coast would go quickly enough. For herself, she would have been content to remain two more days at Plas Tallyn, but she had let the weight of the others’ arguments persuade her to depart early enough to enjoy several days at the seaside resort. Her senses stirred only when she thought ahead to her journey into France. Despite the peace, she could not help thinking that adventure, perhaps even danger, lay ahead. Tiny thrills raced up her spine at the thought.
    The river alongside which they traveled began to widen considerably, and within the hour they reached the head of the Mawddach estuary, a broad, somewhat boggy arm of Cardigan Bay. Two more hours of winding road lay ahead, however, before they topped a rise and were able at last to look down upon the sea and the thriving little resort town that was their destination.
    Despite the fact that Barmouth was the main port of Merionethshire, it was not a large town and was situated, Meriel thought, in one of the most undesirable places that could have been chosen for it. The golden beach that stretched for two miles on either side of it was pleasant enough, but while some of the picturesque houses had been built right upon the sand at the bottom of the huge rock cliff that entirely sheltered the town on the east, others occupied seemingly impossible positions at different elevations right upon the cliffside and were connected by a series of narrow, winding, entirely precipitous flights of stairs cut out of the rock.
    “Goodness,” Davy breathed, gripping the doorframe with white knuckles and struggling to lean forward enough to see out the window as the carriage began the steep descent toward the sea.
    Eliza had closed her eyes as the carriage lurched over the rise, but Gwenyth peered from her window, craning her neck to see what lay ahead, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Only look,” she said, grinning. “I daresay that the people in some of those houses might almost cure their bacon by simply hanging it out the window over their neighbors’ chimneys.”
    Meriel, bracing herself against the increasing incline and hoping the coachmen knew their business, smiled at her sister’s comment. Certainly the houses were curious ones, looking as though they ought to slide into one another or topple into the sea at any moment. She had spent the summer here more than once as a child, however, and knew they were quite solidly built.
    Since their stay this time would be a short one, she had arranged for them to put up at the most comfortable of several inns located at the bottom of the cliff where the road—the only road in Barmouth—ran between the cliffside and the quay. Instead of watching the steep, winding road ahead, she turned her attention to the wide, curving bay, where afternoon sunlight sparkled on green water and where at least fifty boats of assorted sizes rested at anchor.
    Within the hour they were settled in their rooms at the lovely old inn and Mrs. Lewis, the proprietress, had begun to serve a light luncheon in their private sitting room. The rest of the afternoon was spent exploring the town and the quayside, and by suppertime Lady Cadogan had discovered that not only were the Earl and Countess of Uxbridge in residence at their home just