LITMIR.BIZ

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I am for bed. My wife will be waiting for me.’

      ‘We must not keep the little lady waiting, must we?’ Williams said with a laugh. ‘Whose hand is on the reins now?’ Then everyone laughed. Jonathan’s own lips twitched, but he refrained from joining in; he did not like to see the boy humiliated. Why that was, he did not know.

      Furious Louise snatched up her winnings and left the room with all the dignity she could muster.

      Betty woke as she was taking off her coat. ‘Did you win?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Good. We can eat well tomorrow then.’

      They could, but what it had cost her in nervous tension was only now beginning to make itself felt. She was shaking with relief to have escaped so lightly. Those men could easily have detained her and taken her winnings from her—Burrows and Williams, in particular, frightened her. She did not include Mr Linton in her condemnation, though why she did not she was not so sure. He was not like the other two, being more of a gentleman, but what difference did that make? Gentlemen could also be rogues.

      She put the extra guineas in her purse and slipped it under her pillow before climbing into bed beside Betty. If her study of the timetables of the York coach had informed her correctly, she had three more nights to endure like this one. At least, they might not be so bad. She put her hand under the pillow and felt the comforting presence of the purse. Betty was right; they would travel in more comfort the rest of the way.

      Before he undressed for bed himself, Jonathan sat down to write his daily log, which was required of him when on the business of the Society. He stated the facts without embroidery. Mrs Vail’s attitude had led him to believe there was something suspicious about her daughter’s disappearance and after questioning everyone at the vicarage, he had come to the conclusion she was travelling to Yorkshire, probably accompanied by a young girl, the sister of her father’s gardener. He had followed in his own carriage and come upon a coach being held up by highwaymen, whom he had apprehended. The Society would be pleased to hear that the two men involved had turned out to be Lord Besthorpe’s burglars. He had handed them over to the Baldock magistrate and was continuing his pursuit of Miss Vail.

      Louise did not see Mr Linton at the breakfast table next morning, even though, to her shame, she looked for him. He had probably set off much earlier. She and Betty ate a hearty breakfast to prepare them for the day ahead and, having paid their dues, boarded the coach to continue their bone-shaking journey. She was disconcerted to discover the cleric and his wife were no longer with them and they were joined by a very fat lady with a kitten in a basket and the two card players of the evening before. It meant she had to be doubly on her guard and speak as little as possible.

      It was not long before she became aware that Mr Linton’s rather splendid carriage was behind them again. Sometimes it stopped when they stopped, sometimes it overtook them and disappeared in a cloud of dust, but then it must have stopped to change horses somewhere else because it was soon behind them again. They were on a turnpike road which was better than most and made good progress, though sometimes they were held up by lumbering wagons and sometimes they had to squeeze themselves to one side to allow a carriage to go past at breakneck speed.

      On they went, up and down hills, through woods, alongside fields of growing corn, past cows grazing in meadows, through tiny hamlets where women at their doors stopped to stare as they passed and children, playing in the road scampered to one side. Through Ware they went, then Wadesmill and Puckeridge to Buntingford, where they stopped at the George and Dragon for a whole hour instead of the two or three minutes allowed for a change of horses. Jonathan and his man followed them in, much to the delight of Betty, who was convinced Joe had taken a shine to her.

      ‘Mr Linton, it is strange, is it not, that we keep bumping into each other?’ Louise ventured. ‘Are you following us?’

      ‘Not strange at all, Mr Smith,’ Jonathan said. ‘This is the Great North Road; in truth, it is the only road worthy of the name going north from London and even then it is very bad in parts. It seems reasonable to assume that anyone beginning a journey at about the same time, will arrive at stopping places on route at about the same time. That is why the coaching inns are where they are.’ He ignored her question that he might be following them. ‘I am about to leave, but I have no doubt somewhere along the way we shall meet again. I shall look forward to it.’ He swept her a bow. ‘Your obedient, sir.’ And with that he strode out to the yard and climbed into his carriage, now sporting a fresh set of horses. Joe was on the driving seat.

      Louise watched it go, half-relieved, halfdisappointed. Was he right, would they see him on the road again? In spite of herself she liked him; she liked his good looks, his captivating smile, his teasing good humour. Above all she liked to know he was close at hand in case they had any more frightening adventures and especially now when she was forced into the company of Burrows and Williams.

      They heard the passengers being called to the coach and left the remains of their dinner and went out to it. It was becoming a familiar routine, this bumping along and then stopping to change horses and then bumping along again, sometimes at a canter, sometimes no more than a walk, but whatever speed they went, it made her whole body ache.

      They passed through Huntingdon, a quaint little town with narrow twisting streets, once the home of Oliver Cromwell and Samuel Pepys, so she was informed by Burrows, who was the more talkative of the two men. Somewhere they must have passed Mr Linton without knowing it, because soon afterwards he was behind them again.

      ‘What is the man about?’ Williams demanded. ‘He comes and he goes. It is almost as if he were following us.’

      ‘I asked him that,’ Louise told him. ‘His answer was that if two coaches set out at the same time to go to the same place, they are bound to come across each other from time to time.’

      ‘That might be true if they were equal in weight and horseflesh, but that vehicle is lighter than this, carries only two passengers and is pulled by four of the finest cattle I have seen for an age. He must be very high in the instep to be able to command the best the posting inn can procure. He could outrun us easily if he had a mind to.’ All of which, Louise realised, was true.

      ‘He’s keeping an eye on his money,’ Burrows said with a laugh, nodding towards Louise. ‘Wants the chance to win it back.’

      ‘He is only watching out for us,’ Betty said, relieving Louise of the need to comment. ‘We were held up afore and he’s making sure it don’ happen again.’

      ‘When were you held up?’ Burrows asked.

      ‘Yesterday. Two vicious-looking men with pistols tried to rob us. Mr Linton shot the gun out o’ the hand of one o’ them, cool as you like. Then he tied ‘em up and took ‘em to the beak.’

      ‘Why would he do that?’

      ‘What else was he to do with them? Couldn’ leave ‘em there, could he?’

      ‘No, I meant why take it into his head to keep pace with this coach?’

      ‘I dunno, do I? Mayhap he’s one o’ them thieftakers. I reckon he’s done that sort of thing afore.’

      ‘Do you think so?’ Louise queried. It seemed the most logical conclusion and she wondered why she had not thought of it herself.

      ‘Yes, an’ glad I am he’s there,’ Betty said.

      From Huntingdon they progressed to Stilton, a hilly village which had given its name to a cheese, where they stopped at the Bell only long enough to change the horses and see to their comfort and that enabled Mr Linton to pass them again. They approached Stamford through woods that made Louise wonder if that might be a place to expect more highwaymen, but they continued without incident and found themselves in a beautiful town rising from the banks of a slow-moving river. It had narrow streets, grey limestone buildings and a proliferation of churches. They stopped at the George for the night.

      Louise had hardly left the coach and stretched her cramped limbs than the Linton carriage hove into view and pulled up in the yard. Mr

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