Witch Finder by Ruth Warburton EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Ruth Warburton
- Language: English
- Genre: Gothic Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Luke lifted his head and sniffed the dusk. The rich smell of roast chestnuts
pierced the cold foggy air, above the more familiar Spitalfields stink: horse
manure, coal smoke, rubbish. Another day he might have searched his
pockets for a farthing, bought a paper cone of hot, burst chestnuts and burnt
his fingers as he ate. Not today. Not with his stomach churning like a wash
tub and a fluttering sickness in his gut.
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Instead he pushed past the scurrying children and sharp-faced errand
boys, and stepped into the foetid, muck-strewn road.
At the Cock Tavern the gas-lamps were lit and the working girls called
out to him, trying to catch his eye for the evening trade. Their cheap
perfume wafted across the muddy street, cutting through the sharpness of
the burning chestnut skins. He turned up his collar, readying himself to run
the gauntlet.
‘Come on now, Luke Lexton!’ Miriam called as he drew near. ‘A man
like you can’t be a monk all yer life. I’ve seen you with those horses, how’s
about I teach you to ride something a bit more lively?’
‘Don’t listen to her!’ Phoebe twirled her skirts as he passed, flashing her
crimson petticoat and stockings. ‘I’ll give you the first ride for free, Luke.
For a birthday present, eh?’
‘My birthday’s been and gone yesterday,’ he muttered into his muffler.
‘And I’m late for me uncle.’
‘Come back with your uncle and all!’ Miriam cried. ‘William Lexton’s a
fine figure of a man too!’
They were still giggling and making eyes over their fans as he rounded
the corner.
It was full dark when he entered Fournier Street, the narrow brick houses
rising high either side of him. Once these had been the homes of Huguenot
silk-weavers, a fine prosperous quarter. Now the silk was woven in far-off
India, but on a fine day you could sometimes see bright scraps still
fluttering in the windows. Tonight every window was closed and dark, and
the yellow-grey fog hung low, trickling between the buildings like a living,
breathing thing. The single hissing street lamp barely pierced the gloom, but
Luke still pulled his muffler high and his cap low, and he looked up and
down the street before he knocked on the door of a shuttered house, three
times slow, three fast, three slow.
‘Who’s there?’ The voice behind the wooden door was gruff.
‘A man looking for work.’ It was the first time Luke had spoken the
words, but he’d learnt them by heart long ago. Now, as he said them, his
voice low, he felt something tighten round his heart.
‘What’s your trade?’
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