CHAPTER THREEIt was growing dark by the time the train drew into Fellbrook Station at five o’clock, and Elissa peered along the dimly-lit platform to see if anyone had come to meet her.
“How do, lass!” a deep gruff voice spoke up from the shadows. “Miss Valentine, is it?”
“Yes, that’s me!” acknowledged Elissa and as she spoke her breath formed a misty cloud in the cold air.
“Oldroyd it be, ma’am, coachman at The Towers,” the gruff voice came again and a squat man with broad shoulders stepped forward to pick up her bag.
He raised his hat and indicated for Elissa to follow him along the platform to where a carriage pulled by four horses was waiting.
“Is it far?” asked Elissa, as the coachman opened the door.
“Far enough,” grunted Oldroyd.
And then she was inside the carriage, sitting
