The Sins of the Wolf - Anne Perry [2]
The train rattled and lurched around a curve in the tracks, and when the air had cleared Hester could see in the distance the dark rooftops of the city, dominated by the crooked skyline of the castle perched on its massive rock, and beyond them all, the pale gleam of the sea. In spite of all common sense, she felt a thrill of excitement ripple through her as though she were at the outset of some great adventure, not a single day in a strange house before a very ordinary professional task.
The journey had been long and uncomfortable, there being no privacy in a second-class carriage, and very little room. She had naturally sat upright all night, so she was stiff, and had only the occasional snatches of sleep. She stood up and straightened her clothes, then, as discreetly as possible, redid her hair.
The train finally drew into the station amid gushing steam, clanking wheels, shouting voices and slamming doors. She seized her single piece of luggage, a soft-sided valise large enough for only a change of underclothing and her toiletries, and made her way to alight onto the platform.
The cold air struck her sharply, making her draw in her breath. Everywhere there was noise and bustle, people shouting for porters, newsboys calling out, the clatter of trollies and wagons. Cinders shot out of the funnel and a grimy stoker whistled cheerfully. Steam belched and billowed across the platform and a man swore as smuts descended on his clean shirt collar.
Hester felt wildly exhilarated, and she strode along the platform towards the stairs and the exit with most unladylike haste. A large woman in a stiff black dress and poke bonnet looked at her with disapproval and remarked ringingly to the man next to her that she did not know what young people were coming to these days. No one had any sense of what was proper anymore. Manners were quite shocking, and everyone was a deal too free with their opinions, whether they had any right to them or not. As for young women, they had every kind of unsuitable idea in their heads that one might imagine.
“Aye, m’dear,” the man said absently, continuing to look for a porter to carry their very considerable baggage. “Aye, I’m sure you’re right,” he added as she appeared to be about to continue.
“Really, Alexander, I sometimes think you are not listening to me at all,” the woman said testily.
“Oh, I am, m’dear, I am,” he answered, turning his back on her and waving to a porter.
Hester smiled to herself and made her way up the steps to the exit, and after handing in her ticket, went out onto the street. It took her only a few moments to find the carriage which had come to meet her; the driver was the only one looking from person to person, but hesitating when he saw a young woman in a plain gray costume and carrying a single valise. Hester passed her and addressed the man.
“Excuse me, are you from Mrs. McIvor?” she inquired.
“Aye, miss, I am that. Would you be Miss Latterly, just come up from London to be with the mistress?”
“Yes I am.”
“Well then, you’ll be ready to come and sit down to a decent breakfast, I daresay. I don’t suppose they serve anything on those trains, but we can do better, and that’s a fact. Here, I’ll take your bag for you.”
She was about to protest that it was not heavy, but he took it anyway, and crossing the pavement, handed her up into the carriage and closed the door. The journey was far too short; she would have liked to see more of the city. They proceeded simply off the bridge into Princes Street, down the greater part of its length past the fine fronts of shops and houses to the right, and to the