Page 48 of The Gentlewoman Author

She caught his meaning. “I am no spring chicken.” She used her most ladylike inflection.

He did not reply, but when the carriage rolled to a stop, he took her hand and helped her out. For a moment, they stood shoulder to shoulder, taking in the squat edifice. The thatched roof sagged and was black with mold in places, green with moss in others. Tufts of straw puffed around holes where the vermin had made their nests. Broken bits of carts, rusty traps, and old furniture littered the overgrown garden. Save for a feather of smoke from the chimney, it seemed abandoned.

Daniel pulled Mary’s arm through his and leaned toward her. “Ready?”

“No.” Mary whispered, pausing a moment to glean strength from his resolute eyes.

He half-smiled. “You could wait in the carriage.”

“Never.”

They stepped toward the house but paused when their attention caught on a once beautiful carriage lying askew at one side of the house. Daniel’s landau. Two missing wheels gave it a lopsided appearance, and the body was now cracked and crooked. Daniel ran his fingers through his hair, cursing under his breath.

“I am very sorry,” Mary said.

“The villain. He must have run into a ditch and had the thing dragged here.”

Daniel bent over his broken carriage, tracing marred blue lacquer, as one might touch a dying pet. “To affect any good here, I must keep my temper.” He spoke to himself. She put her hand on his shoulder, and he surprised her by taking it in his own. She gave his hand a sympathetic squeeze.

Daniel stood, retaining Mary’s hand, and tugged her forward. Together they approached the door.

It is better to keep a constant watch over ourselves, and upon the first discovery of any evil design or action, immediately to retract it from our own hearts and arm ourselves against committing the like in future.

The Whole Duty of a Woman, An Infallible Guide to the Fairer Sex, 1737