Watching the hasty retreat of the mail coach and its two passengers, Marion could do little but review the journey and determine what to do next. A clear conscience was a poor substitute for a full belly. But starvation is also lamentable, she reminded herself. That lie was not nearly as white as she would have liked.
If her current occupation proved unsuccessful, she could seek her fortune as a forger.įorging was probably wrong, she reflected, especially the references she’d created for herself. She not only hadn’t earned that recommendation, but she had also written it herself under an entirely fictitious name-though, she thought with pride, she’d done remarkably well disguising her handwriting.
Two days earlier she’d been hired sight-unseen, based on nothing more than a single recommendation, to fill a position for which she knew she was completely unqualified. Being abandoned in a part of the country she’d never set foot in fit perfectly with the unpredictable nature of her life lately. “Typical,” she muttered to no one in particular. The mail coach rattled and swayed at the abnormal speed.
The coachman pointed directly behind her before cracking his whip over the heads of his team, sending the mismatched beasts into a frenzied run. She hadn’t anticipated being left on an empty public road. “But which way is Farland Meadows?” Marion shouted into the biting wind.
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