Horror Stories from Horrified - Volume One (2)

?Emily and I had been at tea at her mother ?s house in Tr epping-New or th. We
w ould often visit on Sunday after noons. Such a char ming and elegant old lady; it
was easy to see w her e Emily inher ited her natur al beauty.? My eyes misted, yet I
steeled myself to continue. ?We decided not to take a Hansom for the jour ney back
to our ow n house, electing instead to walk the tw o or thr ee miles, to take the
summer evening air.
I r emember , most vividly, the fading of the daylight and the gr adual appear ing of
the star s; the evening was clear and the heat of the day had not yet faded. A
favour ite walk of our s was along Old Coach Road, w hich r an for about a mile and a
half betw een the tw o villages of Tr epping-New or th and Hague.
It was a tr uly beautiful and r estful place for a str oll.? I mentally noted, to my ow n
sur pr ise, that I was speaking in the past tense about the location, as though it no
longer existed.
I continued. ?The r oad itself was r eally no mor e than a tr ack. Coaches r ar ely
tr avelled ther e, since the constr uction of the new er cir cuitous r oad, w ith its smooth
sur face. The r utted gr ound was unpr oblematic for r omantic walker s, such as Emily
and myself.? I momentar ily paused, to take a shar p dr ink of my scotch. The flames
in the gothic gr ate continued their mesmer ic dance. I became lost in time once
mor e, visualising the tr ee-lined ver dancy of Old Coach Road.
?This par ticular day was a ver y special one. We had the best of new s for Emily?s
mother ? she was to become a gr andmother.? Difficult as this was for me, I was
deter mined to obser ve Whitlock?s ever y r eaction. His eyebr ow s r ose at this, and
the fir st look of genuine sur pr ise cr ossed his face.
I pr essed on. Ther e was impor tant business to attend to. "Yes, w e had been to the
physician and he had advised that, although it was ver y ear ly days, Emily was
undoubtedly w ith child. He said it might be pr udent to wait befor e telling fr iends
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