london, September 1889
"follow that carriage",kathryn wainwright ordered as her coachman folded up the steps and closed the door."make certain the driver doesn't notice. when he gets where he's going, drive on by without stopping.all I want is his destination".
"Yes, ma'am",the man answered, climbing up to his seat. Two hours later, they passed through a tatty, run-down village. A mile past the outskirts,the carriage ahead turned off onto something a small side road through trees.kathryn knew she couldn't follow it without revealing her presence, and probably her purpose,if the rutted track was no through road.
She tapped on the inside roof and stuck her head out the window."Drive on up that rise,Thom, and see if we can look down and see where that road leads".
When the carriage reached the top,she could indeed see quite clearly,with her father's old field glass to one eye. in the moonlight,an old manor house rose out of the summit of the adjourning hill.
No welcoming lights shone in the windows, nor could she see anyone about the place.she watched untill she saw his carriage pull up to the wide circular drive . Jonathan chadwick alighted, spoke with the driver, and then strode into the dark house .kathryn collapsed the sypglass and clapped her hands in glee.so this was his lair.
⬇️:,-)🥺