Chapter 6
The young man peered out the grimy window of the tiny tavern and watched the well-dressed aristocrats and seekers of miracle cures promenade down the steep street toward the famous Pump Room and its adjoining thermal soaking pools.
It was, he knew, the place to see and be seen in the city of Bath.
The crowds—an eclectic mixture of High Society enjoying a visit to a popular destination and people hoping to cure their maladies by partaking of the sulfurous mineral waters bubbling up from the ancient Roman spa—suited his own needs quite well.
Indeed, he had joined the parade on several occasions during the past morning, weaving in and out of the crowd to check on whether anyone was shadowing his movements.
He took another sip of his ale, using the gesture to make another survey of his surroundings. Though of piss-poor quality, it was better than the noxious waters that cost twice as much. A smile. There was no accounting for the tastes of the rich—and the desperate.
But he hadn’t come to the city for its liquid refreshments. Bath was a popular destination. It was easy to get lost in the constant hustle and bustle of visitors arriving and departing.
Several circuits through the area housing the coaching inns had also reassured him that he was not being followed.
There were frequent departures to all points of the compass throughout the day and evening, and by nightfall, the young man would be well on his way to London.
And then his long journey would be done …
But his work would only be starting.