Soon a carriage arrived for Eleanor, and she and Brendon soon entered inside together. The pair sat across from each other, as the stagecoach began setting off in the direction of Eleanor's relatives.
"Are they very far?" Brendon asked his new companion.
"Not terribly far, we'll get there before sundown. But certainly far enough to take a carriage. Wouldn't want our feet getting filthy from all the muck and grime of the streets, now would we?
Brendon glanced outside. "No, I suppose we would not," he relented, wrinkling his nose at the dirtiness of the London streets. He had no idea how people could live like that.
The boy and the lady shared a polite laugh over that, neither commenting how pale Brendon appeared in the shade of the carriage's cab. In reality, there was more to it than just the lighting, as Brendon's skin was losing most pigmentation, until not five minutes from the beginning of their journey Brendon's skin was milky white, even paler than Eleanor's.
