Mental images of a hired coach capsized on the side of the road quickened his heart.What had he been thinking, to ask his mother and sister to take such a perilous journey on their own? “I should ride out and trace the route they were supposed to take.”Susan reached the parlor door before he did, closed it, and held on to the knob with her hands behind her back. “William, be reasonable. There are any number of logical explanations for why they are late.”“They were supposed to be delivered here at half-past twelve. It is now nearly one o’clock. They could have met with an accident—they could have been set upon by highwaymen—”Susan burst into laughter. “Highwaymen?”He glowered at her, ready to lift her out of his way.She sighed. “Where will you go to look for them? Will you recognize the coach should you pass it? Do you plan to ride all the way to Gateacre if you do not see them on the road? And what should I tell them when they arrive twenty minutes after you ride out?”His frustration needed venting, yet he could think of no outlet appropriate in present company.
