The Heiress of Linn Hagh Read Online Free

Anna. The scalding drink revitalised her.
    Eventually, Master Matthew’s sobs subsided. He took the saucer of tea in his large, filthy hands and gulped it down like an animal. Every now and then he would groan and wince.
    Anna looked away; she didn’t want to shame the young master further by staring at him.
    ‘I’ll call at Doctor Goddard’s in the morning and ask him to come and examine him,’ Miss Helen said.
    ‘Huh! They’ll not thank you fer runnin’ up a doctor’s bill,’ Mistress Norris commented. Her eyes rolled up to the high-beamed ceiling to indicate to whom she referred.
    ‘I’ll pay for it out of my own money.’
    ‘I’ll make him a poultice fer tonight, to tek away some of the pain. The Lord knows, I’ve had plenty of practice with that particular recipe,’ the cook added bitterly.
    At last, Anna found the confidence to speak.
    ‘Miss Helen, why did your sister not tell Master George about the other gadgie in the woods? The one that laughed at us.’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘Master George could have taken his man and his gun and searched fer him.’
    ‘Yes, I suppose he could have done.’
    ‘The intruder will be long gone by now. Was it one of the faws, do you think? That laughter were creepy, weren’t it?’
    ‘I’ve heard that man before,’ Helen Carnaby said as she rose to leave. ‘He is stalking me like a poacher.’

Chapter Three
    D usk was falling as the stagecoach rumbled up the Great North Road towards Barnby Moor. Inside the cramped vehicle, which stank of damp body odour and burning oil wicks, the seven passengers drooped with weariness. The road was in good condition on this stretch. The drivers kept up a steady pace and veered less to avoid ruts. The regular motion and the constant rumble of the wheels lulled the tired passengers towards sleep. Even the constant drumming of the rain on the roof of the coach had a rhythmic quality to it. One by one, they closed their eyes and began to nod.
    Only Stephen Lavender and the shabby man who had joined the coach back in Newark remained awake. Another passenger, Mr Nathanial Finch, a retired bookseller from Sheffield, sagged in Lavender’s direction. His weight pressed into the detective’s shoulder. Lavender shuffled uncomfortably beneath the pressure. At the far end of their row of seats, the elderly Mistress Finch let out an unladylike snore.
    Lavender’s back ached with the long journey and the constant jolting of the carriage. He stretched his legs and tried to avoid kicking his dozing constable, who sat opposite him. He envied Woods’ ability to drop off to sleep in such an uncomfortable upright position; it was not a skill he had ever mastered. Beside Woods, the Newark man pulled out a battered pocket watch and checked the time again.
    It would be at least another hour, Lavender realised, before they arrived at the relative comfort of The Bell Inn. He glanced out of the mud-splattered window into the foul weather outside but could see little beyond the condensation and the rivulets of rain that streamed down the pane. He tried to picture the vast expanse of barren fields and the snatches of woodland that he knew lined the road between here and Barnby Moor. It was an isolated area.
    Still, sleep eluded him.
    He let his eyes feast for a while on the raven-haired Spanish beauty who sat next to the fidgeting man from Newark. Magdalena Morales was also trying to rest and leant against her maid, who was fast asleep in the far corner by the window. Shortly after leaving London yesterday, the young girl had asked her mistress if she could sit next to the window. Doña Magdalena had smiled and changed places. At supper last night, in the tavern in Peterborough, the señora had resumed the haughtiness of her class and her race; she had been distant and evasive when questioned by the other curious travellers. But in this one small gesture of kindness towards her servant, Lavender felt that he had a glimpse of the real woman