The Five-Minute Marriage by Joan Aiken Read Free Book Online Page A

over the moat.
    “ Begging your pardon, ma ’ am, ” he said, turning and touching his hat to Delphie, “ but this ‘ ere carriage is too wide to pass over that ‘ ere bridge. ”
    Delphie stepped down into the road and agreed. The bridge (not, to Jenny ’ s disappointment, a drawbridge, merely a plain stone arch) was certainly too narrow for Mr. Browty ’ s coach, which was extremely wide. Moreover there were no railings at the sides of the bridge.
    Mr. Bodkin was very apologetic. “ Mr. Browty did say as ‘ ow I was to drive you right up to the door and wait to see how you got on, miss, ” he said, “ but, seeing I can ’ t do that, I ’ ll send Jem Postilion to bang on the knocker, shall I, and I ’ ll walk the hosses here, till you find out if your folks are home? I ’ m right sorry not to take you up to the door in style, miss, but I don ’ t see what ’ s to be done about it. ”
    “ Thank you, Bodkin, but pray don ’ t distress yourself, ” Delphie said with a friendly smile. (She had a shrewd suspicion, from the encouraging expressions on their faces, that both Bodkin and the postilions had somehow learned the nature of her journey, and wished her well.) “ The fault is certainly not yours, but that of this very narrow bridge, and Mr. Browty ’ s very stylish carriage! Do you walk the horses here; that will serve admirably, for anyone looking through the arch will be able to see what a handsome equipage I have come in. And Miss Baggott and I will send word back to you in a very few minutes, either that we should like our baggage brought in because we are staying here, or that we intend to continue with you, and find accommodation at an inn in Cow Green. ”
    Jenny had jumped out of the carriage in time to hear this last, and her face fell considerably. To stay in a castle, or at the Angel in Maidstone, was one thing; to be putting up at some village hostelry in a place called Cow Green was quite another, and not at all the kind of evening ’ s entertainment that she had proposed for herself.
    “ Look—there ’ s folk about—I daresay his lordship is in residence, ” she said hopefully, nudging Delphie ’ s arm. “ I can see a gig standing in the courtyard through that arch. And I just noticed a couple of dogs run across. ”
    “ So did I. There is certainly somebody in the place. But of course Lord Bollington may keep it staffed with servants even when he is from home. In any case, let us go forward and see! We shall not be long, Bodkin. ”
    Delphie walked swiftly across the narrow stone bridge, glancing about her, in spite of her growing nervousness, with considerable interest. A high stone wall rose on the far side of the moat, which did not look to be very deep, but might be about twenty feet wide. It was full of water-lily pads, with the flowers just coming into bloom, among which ducklings and moorhens swam and padd l ed and splashed.
    Through a stone arch at the far end of the bridge could be seen a wide, grassy inner courtyard, on the distant side of which wide stone steps led up to an imposingly massive wooden door under a Gothic arch. This door, encouragingly, stood open, and a black - clad man, who appeared to have alighted from the stationary gig, was just passing through it. Delphie had only a brief glimpse of him but decided that he did not look like a lord (not that she had any very clear notion of what a lord should look like); she thought he might be a lawyer, clergyman, bailiff, or some other person from the professional classes.
    Having crossed the bridge she was just about to pass under the stone arch when she was arrested by the sound of a loud splash, followed by a series of ear-piercing shrieks, from just behind her.
    Spinning around she saw with the utmost astonishment and consternation that Jenny, through some unimaginable mischance — perhaps from staring about her and not looking where she set her feet—had fallen off the bridge and landed plump in the