‘What happened?’ Hope demanded.
‘I think he became dizzy,’ Patience stammered.
‘Is he dead?’ asked Prudence bluntly.
‘No, he’s not dead,’ snapped Hope bending down. Staring at his sweat slick face, she recognised he was running a fever.
‘What the deuce has been going on?’ the Reverend quizzed, feeling as though he was losing his grip on reality. ‘Was he taking liberties?’ he demanded of Patience. ‘Is that why you clocked him on the head?’
Patience frowned. ‘Don’t be ridiculous father, of course he wasn’t taking liberties. For goodness’ sake at the very least he had four witnesses. What do you think he is, bacon brained?’
‘I thought you said Jimmy proclaimed him perfectly well, so what the devil happened?’ he demanded to Hope.
‘I think this is mayhap another knock on his head,’ Hope responded, unable to keep the anxiety out of her voice.
‘Thunder an’ turf, how many deuced times has he bashed himself now? Any more bumps and he’ll be rivalling Percy.’ The Reverend shook his head. ‘What if these knocks have sent him addled? Or at the very least befogged? If he wakes up thinking he’s Julius Caesar, we could all be in the basket and no mistake.’
‘What on earth are you talking about father?’ Hope snapped, before turning back to Patience who was regarding the comatose man anxiously.
‘What happened?’
‘He saved Anthony from drowning,’ piped up Prudence, ‘which is very good ‘cos I don’t fancy swimming in a pool with his dead body floating next to me.’ Both Patience and Hope stared incredulously at their sister.
‘He wouldn’t be floating,’ scoffed Chastity, ‘he’d be down in the weeds waiting to grab innocent swimmers. And when they looked down into the water, they’d see his white face staring up at them while he planned their doom.’
‘What’s a doom?’ questioned Prudence.
‘A horrible death,’ intoned Charity, doing her best doom-laden impression.
‘I don’t want to be down in the weeds,’ wailed Anthony, ‘there’s nothing to eat down there.’
‘Well, you’d get plenty of greens,’ argued Prudence.
‘What a deuced bag of moonshine,’ thundered the Reverend abruptly proving to everyone just where Hope had got her loud voice from. ‘Truly, I’m tempted to think you all dicked in the nob.’
‘Don’t be absurd father,’ Hope stated, interrupting his tirade, ‘It’s simply children’s imagination.’
‘That’s not what Willie Thatcher said,’ responded Prudence matter of factly. ‘He said…’
Before she could say exactly what it was that Willie Thatcher had alleged, she was interrupted by a loud groan. As one, they all turned to look at the Viscount who was struggling to rise. ‘What the devil is all that bloody noise?’ he muttered.
‘Please my lord, you must not move,’ Hope murmured, pressing him back towards his makeshift bed. ‘You have sustained another blow to the head.’
‘And are you here to offer me further succour perchance?’ responded Gabriel thickly, lifting his hand to run it through her hair. Hope froze as his fingers began pulling out the pins securing her tresses.
‘Unhand her sir,’ snapped the Reverend stepping into Gabriel’s view for the first time, ‘lest you wish to find yourself on the end of my cutlass.’
‘’Tell me you didn’t bring that old thing with you father.’ Patience shook her head. ‘We don’t want you skewering yourself again.’
‘I’ll have you know I’ve taught many a varmint a useful lesson using that very same weapon,’ was the Reverend’s defensive retort.
‘Like the time you nearly chopped Percy’s finger off,’ interrupted Chastity.
‘And almost impaled the Abbot,’ added Charity.
‘And very nearly…’
‘Enough,’ shouted Augustus Shackleford and turned back to Gabriel who was staring at them all entirely bewildered.
