∞∞∞
Hope did not simply hand Lucifer over to Seth when she returned home, but decided the horse warranted a little more tender attention due to his earlier heroics. The fact that he attempted to bite her throughout the whole of his grooming in no way diminished her affection for the bad-tempered animal. In fact, the whole process was strangely calming aside from the occasions she wasn’t quick enough to avoid his teeth.
In truth, she was also putting off going inside in the event her father had already been informed of her earlier precipitous departure and wished to know exactly what the deuce had had her galloping down the lane like the devil himself was after her.
Accordingly, she loitered in the stables for a couple of hours while Seth took advantage of the respite. All too soon however, the sun began to set, and she could no longer put off going inside. It would be dark shortly and candles in the stable were forbidden unless there was an emergency. Sighing, she finally filled Lucifer’s grain trough and gave the horse his promised apple. Then risking a swift kick, she gave him a quick pat on his rump and made her way out of the stable.
To her relief, the house was quiet, which when she thought about it was actually a bit suspicious. There was no sign of Freddy which meant her father was very likely out. Probably at the Red Lion if she were to guess.
While she was naturally happy about his absence, if the Reverend was going to hear about her activities anywhere it would be at the inn. And Hope very much doubted they would get any more palatable with embellishment.
Sighing, she poked her head into the sitting room and spied her stepmother snoring softly on her favourite chaise longue. At least someone was where they were expected to be. Nodding satisfactorily to herself, she quietly closed the door and turned to go up the stairs, wondering whether she needed to send out a search party for her siblings. Mayhap if they’d been up to something, it would take precedence over her own indiscretions.
Almost optimistic that her sisters had indulged in something outrageous, Hope made her way upstairs to the small schoolroom. Pushing open the door, she was surprised to note that the room looked exactly as it had when she’d left it yesterday afternoon. Frowning, Hope stepped inside. While she hadn’t expected Patience to conduct anything as demanding as an actual lesson, she had thought her sister would at least have run through the motions.
Perturbed, Hope stepped over to the window and stared outside into the darkness.
Chapter Thirteen
Predictably the Red Lion was extremely busy. To Percy’s surprise, the Reverend eschewed his favourite spot in the corner and headed instead towards the melee around the small bar.
‘Evenin’ Revren,’ came a chorus of gruff voices, accompanied by the removal of a myriad of head gear out of respect for Blackmore’s revered spiritual mentor.
‘Saw summat funny earlier today, beggin yer pardon Revren,’ offered a lone voice once the greetings had died down, ‘an’ was thinkin’ you might be wantin’ to know about it.’
The Reverend beamed at the speaker as his and Percy’s tankards of ale were slid across the bar. This was more like it. The Lion was guaranteed to uncover any gossip, juicy or otherwise the very moment it transpired.
‘Pray enlighten me, Bernard, I am your servant and all ears.’ Reverend Shackleford requested, taking a sip of his ale.
‘Well, it went like this. First off, I was out in the turnip field and spied your ‘Ope driving that cart o’ yours down the lane like all the bloody demons o’ ‘ell were after ‘er.’
The Reverend frowned.What the deuce was Hope doing gallivanting round the countryside on her own?It was completely out of character. The one daughter he could trust to be where she should be was Hope. And even if he didn’t know her whereabouts immediately, he only had to wait for her to open her mouth and her location was usually quickly determined.
‘Now, if’n that weren’t the strangest thing, she had that rogue Jimmy Fowler seated up next to ‘er.’ Bernard paused and chuckled, secure in the knowledge that all around him were hanging on his every word. ‘Poor lad looked to be about to cast ‘is account. Either that or cack ‘iself.’ There was a chorus of snickers as each man pictured the unfortunate boy’s obvious terror.
‘Is that it?’ Reverend Shackleford interrupted the laughter, filled with the first stirrings of disquiet. His pint was not going down in quite the manner he’d hoped.
‘Nay, I wish it were Revren,’ Bernard answered sobering up. ‘Not an ‘our later, your Patience walks along with three o’ your youngens tagging behind ‘er, just like the bloody pied piper.’ He paused again but this time no one laughed, sensing he was coming to the nitty-gritty of the story.
‘I asked ‘er where she was goin’,’ Bernard continued. ‘Beggin’ yer pardon Revren, but I wanted to make sure the littleun were alright.’ Augustus Shackleford nodded tersely. Everyone in the village knew that Anthony at nearly eight followed his sisters everywhere, even to the deuced privy.
‘Well,’ Bernard went on, now lowering his voice conspiratorially, ‘Patience tol’ me they was perfectly well an’ under no account was I to tell anybody I’d seen ‘em.’
The man stared around him earnestly at the accusing stares of his audience. Everyone knew you never snitched… well not unless it was profitable to do so of course.
‘Crook me elbow an’ wish it never comes straight,’ he added to those staring at him reproachfully, ‘I would o’ kep’ it to me self, but afore they carried on, the little lad admitted they was lookin’ fer Prudence cos she’d gone to see the man who ‘ad ‘is ‘ouse nicked.’ He paused for effect, looking around his rapt audience before continuing.
‘Now I’ve asked around and no one knows of any cull ‘erabouts who’s ‘ad ‘is house filched from under ‘im, so I thought it best bring the whole bloody - begging yer pardon - the whole bag o’ moonshine to you yer Revrenship.’
‘Did he say anything else?’ the Reverend asked hoarsely.
‘No sir, that ‘e did not. ‘Is big sister tol’ the boy to stubble it and ushered ‘im along quick like.’
Reverend Shackleford took a reflexive swallow of his pint while his mind endeavoured to process what he’d just been told. It was perfectly normal for his offspring to be out and about kicking up a lark during the day, but they usually turned up well before dusk lest they miss out on supper. He thought back to the vicarage as he’d left. He couldn’t deny it had been ominously quiet. So, chances were, they were still out looking for Viscount Northwood. He felt a sick feeling right down in the pit of his stomach. It was left to Percy to voice the fear that was tightening his gut.
‘If they made it as far as the cottage Sir,’ whispered the curate, ‘one or all of them could easily have fallen in Wistman’s pool in the dark.’
∞∞∞
