The Wicked Wedding Of Miss Ellie Vyne - Plot & Excerpts
The landlord handed her a lit candle in a small brass holder. “Up the stairs. Turn right. Door at the very end of the passage. I’ll have my lad bring your trunk.” Ellie had no great hopes for it, considering this was the last empty chamber. She made her way up the narrow stairs, dripping rainwater and mud, so tired and aching from being squeezed into the overcrowded vehicle that her bones were almost unable to hold her upright. A thumping ache still vibrated in her temple just above her eyes, where it felt as if her head had hit the road that day as often as the hooves of the coach horses. Her mouth was dry, her stomach miserably clenched in a knot, and she could not get the stench of the mail coach out of her nostrils. It had taken hold of her airway and her lungs like invasive mold, but there was another day of it still to come. It was unthinkable, yet it must be faced, for she had no other form of transportation. Expecting little more than a cupboard in which to wait out the night, she lifted the door latch and discovered instead, much to her pleasant surprise, a good-sized paneled room, with a cheery fire burning in the hearth and thick curtains drawn across the windows to keep out drafts.
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