‘But,’ he went on, ‘Jimmy and I have things in hand now. You are free to go.’ She opened her mouth to object, though unsure why, but the concern in his eyes stopped her. He recognised what a precarious position she was in. She nodded stiffly, not trusting herself to say anything else without bursting into tears. Pulling on her cloak she busied herself collecting her things.
‘Jimmy, gather some firewood,’ Malcolm was saying ‘and build up both fires. Lord Northwood is cold to the touch and would undoubtedly benefit from the heat.’
He had definitely been hot enough earliershe thought a trifle hysterically.
Finally, picking up her basket, she bid the valet a quiet good day, but he didn’t answer, taken up as he was with his patient. She spared a glance for Gabriel, but the Viscount’s eyes were closed. She told herself it was for the best and headed out into the cold sunshine.
Lucifer was busy munching on some dandelions and eyed her irritably as she climbed back onto the cart. ‘It’s no good looking at me like that,’ Hope commented, taking hold of the reins. ‘We have to go but I promise to give you something much nicer when we get home.’
Minutes later they were trotting back along the track towards the lane. Hope tried her best to avoid tormenting herself with the undeniable fact that she’d made a complete mull of the whole business, or indeed dwelling on the myriad of unexpected feelings Gabriel’s kiss had provoked. Instead, she focused on the anxiety in Malcolm’s eyes.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Never in a thousand years could she have imagined herself in this position. What had she even been thinking when she determined to visit with an unmarried man? Did the look Malcolm had given her mean she was now branded a fallen woman?
And if she was, would it matter? After all, given the past performances of other members of her family, what was one more?
∞∞∞
It had to be said that despite the Reverend’s earlier protestations, he was indeed finding it challenging to go about his daily business while such an intriguing dilemma hung over their heads, and the day he was too old to investigate such havey-caveygoings onwas the day they might as well pack him off for tea and toast with the Almighty.
In the meantime, it was deuced hard to get back into focusing on the upcoming Sunday sermon which on this occasion predictably included ominous warnings for those indulging in murder, robbery and dishonesty with a side dose of kidnapping. The Reverend shook his head. Ifthatdidn’t tell any listening perpetrators they’d been rumbled, he didn’t know what would.
Sighing, he tucked the address back into his bible. He still had three days to tone the sermon down a little, put a little light at the end of the tunnel so to speak. He glanced down at his fob watch. It was nearing four. At this time of year, The Red Lion would be busy with Blackmore locals who lived their lives with the rising and setting of the sun. What wasn’t gossiped about at the Lion, wasn’t worth knowing. Mayhap he could persuade Percy to accompany him there for a swift tankard of ale before supper.
Entirely for a spot of information gathering obviously.
Calling Freddy, he set off towards the church to fetch Percy who would undoubtedly be polishing the alter candlesticks at this time of day and pondered on the pretext he would use to persuade his curate to accompany him.
Truly it was nonsensical how deuced difficult it was becoming to prize Percy away from his duties. Even on a good day, the pretext had to be extremely compelling. Simply ordering the curate to accompany him didn’t work at all. Not if he didn’t want to suffer the repercussions in the following week’s sermon.
Still, at the very least Percy served as his conscience for which the Reverend was grateful - most of the time.
Unfortunately, it had to be said, it also had a tendency to make the curate deucedly chuckleheaded when it came to taking matters into their own hands.
On this occasion, Reverend Shackleford felt he’d come up with an excellent ruse that would make it extremely difficult for Percy to refuse. And what’s more, it wasn’t a complete Banbury story either which was certainly a plus in the wholethou shalt not liebit of the bible.
‘Are you there Percy?’ he yelled as he opened the door to the vestry. Freddy immediately slipped past his master to throw himself eagerly on the small man who was predictably on his hands and knees with a rag in one hand and a sconce in the other.
‘Can I help you Sir?’ the curate asked eying the Reverend warily.
‘I was thinking more about helping you Percy lad,’ was the cheerful response.
Regrettably, Augustus Shackleford’s jovial demeanour did not appear to impart an answering spark of good humour as Percy sat back on his heels and regarded his superior dubiously. Sighing, the Reverend ploughed on. ‘You’ve been on your hands and knees long enough Percy and now a spot of fresh air is definitely called for. Get your coat.’
‘Where are we going?’ was the curate’s mistrustful response. The Reverend coughed and took a deep breath. ‘We’ve got two hours before supper,’ he beamed, ‘so I thought a bit of a stroll was in order. Enjoy the beauty of our surroundings. Take in God’s majesty and all that.’
‘It’s dark,’ commented Percy flatly.
The Reverend ground his teeth in frustration. It was no good, he was going to have to put his hand in his pocket. ‘I would very much like to buy you a tankard of ale Percy lad,’ he managed finally, ‘for going beyond the call of duty… services rendered… and whatnot.’
His curate regarded him silently and for a moment Reverend Shackleford thought he’d overdone it. Then Percy gave a diffident smile and climbed to his feet.
‘I’d like that Sir, and… thank you.’
‘That’s the ticket,’ responded the Reverend. ‘Hurry up and put your coat on, it’s cold enough to fart snowflakes out there.’
Rubbing his hands together to keep warm, he waited impatiently for Percy to return the candlestick to the alter and tidy up the vestry before donning his coat.
Naturally, Reverend Shackleford didn’t mention his real purpose was to seek out information at the pub, being firmly of the opinion that it wouldn’t add anything to the conversation.
