Read Online Gideon the Cutpurse by Linda Buckley-Archer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Linda Buckley-Archer
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while Peter said, "You know, it's got to be something to do with that machine thing that Gideon told us about. It might not be a time machine, but it's all we've got to go on. We're going to have to find the Tar Man, aren't we?"
"I don't know," Kate replied. "Maybe it would be better to wait here.... My dad will work out what happened. I know he will. He won't stop until he's found us."
Peter did not feel quite so optimistic about Dr. Dyer's ability to travel back through time. But he also felt a pang of jealousy--he wished the feelings he had about his own dad were less complicated.
"I didn't blur when I fainted, did I?" asked Kate.
"No, you didn't, why?"
"Just checking."
* * *
Gideon arrived not on horseback but sitting in an open carriage drawn by two glossy chestnut mares. Beside him sat a pretty, plump young woman in a severe black-and-white dress. She was perhaps twenty years old and she was balancing a basket covered with a muslin cloth on her knee. Golden curls escaped from beneath a cotton bonnet and tumbled over her rosy cheeks. The driver sat perched high up on a box seat. He held his back as straight as a soldier on parade and wielded a whip, which he cracked over the horses' heads as they strained up the steep track.
When they came to a halt, Gideon helped the young woman out of the carriage. They hurried toward the children. The woman dropped a neat curtsy in Peter and Kate's direction.
"This is Hannah," announced Gideon. "Mrs. Byng's personal maid. She has brought you refreshments and a cloak each to cover your barbaric garb." Then he raised his voice, and fixing them with his dark blue eyes, he spoke slowly and very pointedly to Peter and Kate.
"I have spoken to Mrs. Byng of your traveling to England from foreign parts and of your terrible encounter with an armed highwayman in Dovedale who made off with all your clothes and possessions. I have also enlightened Mrs. Byng as to your intention of traveling to London. I explained how you became separated from your uncle, who has doubtless made his way to Covent Garden, where he has urgent business."
"Yes, that's right," said Peter in such a stilted voice that Gideon had to turn away to hide his smile. "A terrible highwayman stole all our clothes in Dovedale."
"You poor, wretched children," said Hannah sympathetically. "Mr. Seymour told me that you were forced to wear whatever you could lay your hands on, yet I do declare I have never set eyes on a more outlandish getup. Why, a person would be ashamed to be seen in such clothes in respectable company. But, Mistress Kate, you are not well. Let me help you to the carriage. Here, give me your arm and lean on me."
Kate did what she was told and looked over her shoulder quizzically at Gideon and Peter as she was maneuvered into the coach. Gideon leaned over and whispered in Peter's ear. "I do not think it wise to be open about your predicament. I fear that half the world will think you mad and the other half that you have been bewitched."
* * *
Tucked up in woollen cloaks, and swayed by the motion of the coach, Peter and Kate listened to the groaning of wooden axles and the rhythmic clop , clop , clop of the horses' hooves. The wild Derbyshire landscape, mellow in the setting sun, seemed to glide by. Hannah's basket, stuffed with hunks of bread, salty white cheese, and roast chicken, easily satisfied the children's ravenous appetites, although Hannah seemed to regard it as a small snack. She wanted to know if the highwayman could have been Ned Porter and if he was handsome. Thinking of the Tar Man, Peter told her that he was as ugly as a pig, with a big nose and greasy black hair, and that he stank. Hannah seemed very disappointed.
* * *
Peter heard Kate's sudden intake of breath and felt her hand on his arm as the broad stone facade of Baslow Hall came into view. Symmetrical and well proportioned in the same way that good doll's houses always are, the mansion was an impressive sight in the setting sun.
"I don't know," Kate replied. "Maybe it would be better to wait here.... My dad will work out what happened. I know he will. He won't stop until he's found us."
Peter did not feel quite so optimistic about Dr. Dyer's ability to travel back through time. But he also felt a pang of jealousy--he wished the feelings he had about his own dad were less complicated.
"I didn't blur when I fainted, did I?" asked Kate.
"No, you didn't, why?"
"Just checking."
* * *
Gideon arrived not on horseback but sitting in an open carriage drawn by two glossy chestnut mares. Beside him sat a pretty, plump young woman in a severe black-and-white dress. She was perhaps twenty years old and she was balancing a basket covered with a muslin cloth on her knee. Golden curls escaped from beneath a cotton bonnet and tumbled over her rosy cheeks. The driver sat perched high up on a box seat. He held his back as straight as a soldier on parade and wielded a whip, which he cracked over the horses' heads as they strained up the steep track.
When they came to a halt, Gideon helped the young woman out of the carriage. They hurried toward the children. The woman dropped a neat curtsy in Peter and Kate's direction.
"This is Hannah," announced Gideon. "Mrs. Byng's personal maid. She has brought you refreshments and a cloak each to cover your barbaric garb." Then he raised his voice, and fixing them with his dark blue eyes, he spoke slowly and very pointedly to Peter and Kate.
"I have spoken to Mrs. Byng of your traveling to England from foreign parts and of your terrible encounter with an armed highwayman in Dovedale who made off with all your clothes and possessions. I have also enlightened Mrs. Byng as to your intention of traveling to London. I explained how you became separated from your uncle, who has doubtless made his way to Covent Garden, where he has urgent business."
"Yes, that's right," said Peter in such a stilted voice that Gideon had to turn away to hide his smile. "A terrible highwayman stole all our clothes in Dovedale."
"You poor, wretched children," said Hannah sympathetically. "Mr. Seymour told me that you were forced to wear whatever you could lay your hands on, yet I do declare I have never set eyes on a more outlandish getup. Why, a person would be ashamed to be seen in such clothes in respectable company. But, Mistress Kate, you are not well. Let me help you to the carriage. Here, give me your arm and lean on me."
Kate did what she was told and looked over her shoulder quizzically at Gideon and Peter as she was maneuvered into the coach. Gideon leaned over and whispered in Peter's ear. "I do not think it wise to be open about your predicament. I fear that half the world will think you mad and the other half that you have been bewitched."
* * *
Tucked up in woollen cloaks, and swayed by the motion of the coach, Peter and Kate listened to the groaning of wooden axles and the rhythmic clop , clop , clop of the horses' hooves. The wild Derbyshire landscape, mellow in the setting sun, seemed to glide by. Hannah's basket, stuffed with hunks of bread, salty white cheese, and roast chicken, easily satisfied the children's ravenous appetites, although Hannah seemed to regard it as a small snack. She wanted to know if the highwayman could have been Ned Porter and if he was handsome. Thinking of the Tar Man, Peter told her that he was as ugly as a pig, with a big nose and greasy black hair, and that he stank. Hannah seemed very disappointed.
* * *
Peter heard Kate's sudden intake of breath and felt her hand on his arm as the broad stone facade of Baslow Hall came into view. Symmetrical and well proportioned in the same way that good doll's houses always are, the mansion was an impressive sight in the setting sun.
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