Opportunity knocked on the ceiling panel of the coach, small balled fist ringing on the dark wood of the coach roof. Wilde Hall was still a ways off and she saw no reason not to offer a lift to fellow guests. Besides if she arrived with a crowd and with people who were already kindly disposed to her, well so much the better. She was about to knock again, convinced that the servant come coachman was going to churlishly refuse to stop, but the coach began to slow, the rattle of the horses hooves slowing to a sedate trot. Opportunity pushed open a window and hung out in a very unladylike fashion, white teeth flashing in the dim light.

"Any of you care for a lift?" she called sunnily.