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M eredith passed the time by watching the passing countryside as the stagecoach rattled over the first miles of her journey, the leather seats creaking beneath the weight of six passengers crowded into the modest space.

She had managed to secure a window seat, though not the forward-facing one she'd hoped for, and was determined to make the best of the cramped conditions.

The gentleman beside her wore a coat of decent quality but showing wear at the elbows, its once-fashionable cut now several seasons out of date.

Next to him sat an elderly woman in a worn but clean shawl, her grey hair tucked neatly beneath a modest cap.

Across from them, a matron of perhaps fifty years, a thin clerk-like man, and a weather-beaten gentleman who might be a retired sailor completed their traveling party.

Excitement shimmied down Meredith's spine as they left Oxford behind.

Fear and trepidation followed close behind the thrill—she had never ventured this far from the University town except for occasional visits to her mother and stepfather.

This journey would take her farther than she'd ever been, and the thought both terrified and exhilarated her.

"And where are you off to now, milady?" the matron asked, the honorific carrying just a hint of mockery. She was a stout woman, her clothes practical but well-maintained, her sharp eyes missing nothing as they swept over Meredith's traveling costume.

"I'm on my way to my friend's wedding," Meredith answered, keeping her tone carefully neutral.

She had learned early in her father's lectures that knowledge of proper etiquette could be as much a barrier as a bridge. The soft vowels and precise consonants of her educated speech marked her as different, even as her modest dress and unaccompanied state confused the usual social indicators.

"A wedding, now, is it?" The matron's mouth puckered as though she'd bitten into something sour. "These new modern developments. I suppose she's of the upper crust?"

The woman appeared torn between avid curiosity and disdain over the prospect of a High Society wedding. Meredith felt the familiar weight of judgment settling around her shoulders like an unwelcome shawl.

"Don't you suppose a wedding is better than not?" Meredith asked, trying to keep her amusement from showing. Her father had always said that humour was the best defence against small-mindedness, though he'd also cautioned her about appearing too clever.

The matron ruffled like an offended hen, perhaps interpreting something improper in Meredith's words. She straightened her bonnet with a huff, the faded silk flowers adorning it trembling with her agitation.

"I meant no offense," Meredith hastened to add. "It's simply that marriage is a blessing, regardless of one's station."

This platitude seemed to mollify the woman somewhat, though suspicion still lurked in her gaze. Quickly, Meredith shifted the conversation, asking about the woman's destination and family.

The coach jolted over a rut in the road, throwing them all slightly forward. Meredith used the moment to adjust her skirts and redirect the conversation. "It's wonderful that you can travel to see your daughter. Have you any other grandchildren?"

This proved to be the right question. The matronly woman's face lit up like a chandelier, and she launched into an enthusiastic catalogue of her grandchildren's virtues.

"And one more on the way," she concluded with a pleased chortle.

"Will you stay to welcome the little one?"

"That is my intention," the older woman replied, adding with a hearty laugh, "If my son-in-law can bear my presence that long!"

The coach rattled over a wooden bridge, the horses' hooves creating a staccato rhythm that momentarily drowned out conversation.

Outside, the landscape had changed from the immediate environs of Oxford to rolling countryside dotted with small farms and the occasional copse of trees.

The autumn colours painted the scene in russets and golds, the beauty of it momentarily distracting Meredith from the discomfort of her situation.

"First time traveling by coach, is it?" the elderly woman beside her asked, her voice surprisingly gentle despite her imposing presence.

Meredith nodded, somewhat abashed. "Is it so obvious?"

The woman chuckled, the sound reminiscent of a contented dove. "You've the look of someone trying very hard not to show their excitement or their trepidation. It's charming, my dear. Most young ladies of your station would be complaining about the accommodations by now."

"I find it rather an adventure," Meredith admitted, then added with a small grin, "Though I confess my backside may disagree with me before long."

This elicited a genuine laugh from several of her fellow passengers, the shared humour momentarily bridging the divide between them. The ice thus broken, the rest of the travellers began to share more details about their journeys.

The thin clerk was traveling to take up a new position with the Viscount of Richmond, while the weathered gentleman spoke of returning to sea after a brief retirement that had left him restless.

Meredith found herself genuinely interested in their stories, and they in turn seemed to appreciate her thoughtful questions.

As the coach began to slow for their first stop at a small roadside inn, Meredith found herself extracting one of her father's journals from her reticule, its familiar leather binding smooth beneath her fingers.

The pages fell open to one of his lectures on astronomy, and she smiled at the neat marginal notes in his precise hand.

His observations on Jupiter's moons were interspersed with personal reflections on the wonder of the heavens, the elegant mathematics that governed celestial bodies.

"What're you reading, then?" the man beside her asked, peering at the pages with undisguised curiosity.

"Oh, just some notes my father made before his death. He was a professor at Oxford, and I like to read what he wrote. It makes me feel like he's still with me." The words caught slightly in her throat—would that ever stop happening?

"I'm sorry for your loss," the man said, lifting his cap slightly. He hesitated, then added, "I'm off to see my sister. She lost her man, too—her husband—and it's a right complication for a woman to be on her own. Just like you, I should say."

His sympathy curdled quickly into judgment. "It's not quite proper for a lady like you to be wandering about without a man or a companion."

Meredith tried not to bristle, but it was nearly impossible to maintain her composure.

"Well, I'm not alone," she pointed out, gesturing to their fellow passengers. "I'm with you all."

"Still not quite fit, if you ask me," the man said with a disapproving sniff. "Young ladies of quality should be better protected."

Meredith almost flinched. She would have thought these travellers would be the least likely to judge her, but she supposed it was human nature to judge anyone other than oneself.

Her father's voice whispered in her memory : "The narrower the mind, the broader the statement."

"I assure you, sir, I am quite capable of managing my own affairs," she replied, keeping her tone even with effort. "And my friend's family will receive me at journey's end."

The elderly woman beside him reached across and patted Meredith’s hand sympathetically. "Pay him no mind, dearie. The world is changing. My own granddaughter travels alone to her teaching position, and she's come to no harm."

"Teaching," the matron across from them sniffed. "Unnatural occupation for a female. Children need a mother's touch, not book learning."

"I believe they need both," Meredith replied before she could stop herself. "Affection guides the heart, but knowledge illuminates the path."

The clerk looked at her with new respect. "Elegantly put, miss. Was your father a philosopher as well as an astronomer?"

"He believed all learning was interconnected," Meredith answered, grateful for the sympathetic inquiry. "Astronomy, philosophy, mathematics—all different aspects of understanding our world and our place within it."

The silence that followed was thoughtful rather than judgmental, and Meredith felt a small victory in having shifted the conversation to more intellectual grounds.

The coach slowed further as they approached the crossroads inn, and Meredith found herself craning her neck, suddenly alert. It would be such a relief to have a respite from the cramped quarters of the coach.

Her heart gave an odd little skip as the coach drew into the inn yard. There, being manoeuvred into the covered portion of the stable yard was a shiny dark green carriage with a distinctive crest on its door. Was that the Sutcliffe crest? Had she conjured him with her thoughts?

"Something amiss?" the elderly woman inquired, following her gaze.

"Not at all," Meredith assured her, though her voice sounded strained even to her own ears. "I simply thought I recognized the carriage, or rather the crest on it."

"Ah," the woman nodded knowingly. "An acquaintance, perhaps?"

"Merely that," Meredith replied, unsure why the prospect of encountering Lord Sutcliffe again filled her with such conflicting emotions.

When they entered the inn's common room, her gaze immediately sought and found the tall figure standing by the fire. Sutcliffe turned as if sensing her presence, his expression shifting rapidly from surprise to something more complex—pleasure, perhaps, or concern, or some combination of the two.

"Miss Martin?" he said, approaching with a slight bow. "What a coincidence! Are you on your way to Lord Linford and Miss Somerton's wedding? I’ve just travelled from Marlborough this morning. I never thought I’d encounter someone I know."

"A coincidence to be sure,” Meredith murmured. “I am on the way to the wedding," she added, straightening her shoulders slightly. "And you?"