Once out of Blackmore village, Hope slowed the cart down a little to lessen the risk of losing their lamps and find themselves mired in a ditch somewhere.
‘We cannot take the cart off the road father,’ she said, ‘so if you think the goose wits are anywhere in the vicinity of Wistman’s pool, we’ll have to look for them on foot.’
‘I’ll give ‘em deuced goose wits,’ muttered the Reverend peering ahead into the dark. ‘If Anthony so much as wets his big toe, Agnes is likely to string me up herself.’ His curt words belied the concern Hope realised he was feeling. For all their father’s generally ill-tempered bluster, Hope knew that he cared about them. All of them.
‘Gabriel will be able to help us,’ she declared with much more confidence than she was feeling ‘His head is likely to be much better since being stitched.’
‘Gabriel is it now?’ the Reverend commented brusquely, ‘and what stitches are these?’
Hope felt as if her heart had dropped down to her knees.Botheration. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her father regarding her frowning, but she stared determinedly straight ahead. Truly, to be a good liar, one had to have an excellent memory…
∞∞∞
The next five minutes were the longest in Gabriel’s life. He hadn’t even felt this kind of fear when he lay dying in Cadiz. He even found himself praying that the girl knew where she was going - surely this was taking too bloody long. Then all of a sudden, the light reflected on something shiny.
Water.
He let go of the girl’s hand and told her to remain where she was, then he ran the rest of the way waving his lantern about wildly in an effort to see something - anything.
There.
A small figure lay flat amongst the reeds. ‘HERE!’ The scream was filled with panic and Gabriel knew he only had seconds. Holding the lantern high, he raced towards the sobbing girl and threw himself down beside her. The head of the youngest Shackleford was only just out of the water and the boy had clearly lost consciousness. Holding the lantern with one hand, Gabriel reached down and grabbed the boy’s collar with the other. Then with a heave, he managed to lift the boy’s upper body clear of the water. Quick-wittedly, the girl beside him got onto her knees and leaning forward, grabbed hold of the child’s breeches. Together they finally managed to yank the boy out of the frozen pool.
‘Did he swallow any water?’ Gabriel barked at the shocked figure next to him.
‘I… no, I don’t think so.’
‘We need to get him warm as soon as possible. Take this.’ He held out the lantern and Patience Shackleford took it without arguing which her father would have said was a first. ‘Hold it high so I can see the way back,’ the Viscount grunted, taking hold of Anthony’s limp body and lifting the boy to his chest.
Carefully, Gabriel made his way back to where the younger girl still stood wringing her hands. The time it took them to get back to the cottage this time seemed endless and several times the Viscount stumbled on the uneven ground. By the time they spied the welcome lights of the small building, both girls were sobbing openly, and Gabriel felt as if his whole body was on fire.
The smallest two he’d left inside the cottage were crowded anxiously in the doorway and he had to yell at them to get out of the way. Wordlessly, they stepped aside and without pause, Gabriel laid the boy close to the fire.
‘Go upstairs to the bedroom and fetch blankets and pillows,’ he ordered anyone who was listening, then quickly began removing the child’s wet clothing. To Gabriel’s overwhelming relief, as he peeled off the boy’s wet jacket, Anthony finally opened his eyes and started to cry. A loud clatter told him the girls were returning with the blankets, and he grabbed hold of one, then the other and wrapped the boy inside. ‘You’re safe now,’ he murmured, placing a pillow under the boy’s head.
Fortunately, Anthony’s tears dried up only a few minutes later and after looking around for a few seconds, he stared up at Gabriel and asked if there was anything to eat.
The Viscount shook his head in disbelief. Truly children were the most resilient creatures on earth.
Then, climbing to his feet, he went to share out his meagre supper.
∞∞∞
It seemed to take forever to reach Pear Tree cottage and Hope felt almost lightheaded with a combination of anxiety and weariness by the time she spied its lights.
She’d managed to deflect her father’s questions about the Viscount’s head wound by declaring that Jimmy Fowler had told her about Lord Northwood’s accident. She’d held her breath in the silence that had followed her explanation, giving her enough time to reflect that mayhap she had more of her older sisters in her than she’d allowed herself to believe.
Swallowing, Hope concentrated on keeping Lucifer on the path towards the cottage. The closer they came, the more her fears for her siblings rose to the forefront of her mind. If Gabriel proved in no condition to help them, she and her father would simply have to search without him. Any discomfiture she felt about her earlier indiscretion had entirely paled in the face of the possibility that members of her family were in trouble.
In the event, Lucifer actually came to an abrupt stop right outside the gate to the cottage without her even having to pull on the reins. ‘Tare an’ hounds,’ her father muttered as he hurriedly began to climb down. ‘What the deuce have you done with the beast?’ Hope shook her head, as nonplussed as he, then all other considerations fled as the door to the cottage was flung open.
‘Father!’ Two voices shouted almost in unison. To Hope’s overwhelming relief, it was the twins, Charity and Chastity.
‘What the deuce have you rascals been up to?’ Reverend Shackleford bellowed stomping down the path towards them. ‘Where the devil is Patience? Is Anthony safe? What about Pru? Are they with you?’
‘We’re all perfectly fine father but Lord Northwood isn’t. He hit his head on the fireplace.’
‘Zounds, not again,’ Hope muttered as she hurried over to the comatose Viscount lying next to the fire. He’d been covered with a blanket and Patience was hovering over him sniffling. Anthony and Prudence were staring wide eyed at his feet, the small boy still muffled up in the other bedcover.
