‘Lord Northwood, my daughter reliably informs me that you have developed a fever from your recent endeavours. It is that and only that which prevents me from calling you out.’ He ignored the derogatory snorts behind him.
‘To that end we will remove you to your bed, there to await the arrival of Malcolm. Again.’
He looked down at Hope who was still on her knees next to the Viscount. ‘You and Patience take his feet, and I’ll take his shoulders. And have a care not to bang his head on the deuced bannister. He hardly needs another clout on his noddle.’ Hope nodded, not daring to say anything that might make matters worse.
‘You may rest assured that I am perfectly capable of taking myself to bed,’ declared Gabriel stiffly from the floor. To illustrate his complete capability, he climbed to his feet and promptly wobbled dangerously towards the stone mantel.
‘Tare an’ deuced hounds,’ muttered the Reverend. ‘Here my lord, give me your arm.’ Slowly they tottered towards the narrow stairs at the back of the sitting room.
Ten minutes later, Augustus Shackleford returned looking concerned. ‘How is he?’ asked Patience anxiously.
The Reverend sighed and frowned, collapsing gratefully into the fireside chair. ‘He appears slightly delirious if his mumblings were anything to go by.’
‘Well, we cannot leave him alone,’ Hope declared. ‘After all, he is in this state because he helped to rescue Anthony.’
‘And he stopped Anthony turning into a ghoul,’ added Prudence, admiration clear in her voice.
‘A what? questioned the Reverend.
‘Willie Thatcher says that’s what happens when you drown.’
‘Fustian nonsense,’ snapped Patience, ‘and nobody’s died.’
‘Not yet,’ answered Prudence darkly.
‘For pity’s sake Pru, will you stop with such ghastly imaginings.’ Hope rounded on her sister in exasperation, then shaking her head, she turned to the Reverend. ‘Father, it is clear he cannot be left. One of us must remain until we get word to Malcolm. We owe Lord Northwood that at the very least.’
Augustus Shackleford sighed, but before he could speak, Hope continued, ‘I will remain to watch over his lordship while you see these five mischiefs safely home. Once there you can dispatch Seth to Blackmore to request Malcolm’s urgent assistance.’
When the Reverend looked about to argue, Hope finally lost her patience. ‘For goodness’ sake father, the state he’s in, Lord Northwood couldn’t ravish apiece of wet lettuce. My virtue is entirely safe.’
Augustus Shackleford frowned, clearly not impressed with the analogy, but when he opened his mouth to protest, he couldn’t actually find anything to argue with. In truth he was done to a cow’s thumb and suspected that should he remain behind to watch over the Viscount, he would be neither use nor ornament. Indeed, he would more than likely be asleep on the bed beside the patient.
Abruptly he nodded and climbing tiredly to his feet, waved the five younger Shacklefords towards the door. ‘Come along you horrible bunch, you’ve kicked up enough of a lark for one night.’
‘I should stay with Hope,’ Patience protested, clearly feeling guilty for her part in the proceedings.
‘For once my girl, you’ll remain right where I can see you,’ the Reverend responded flatly, clearly leaving his wayward daughter no wriggle room. Then taking hold of her shoulder, he marched her towards the front door. Just as he was about to pull it open, Hope spoke again.
‘Once the Viscount is recovered, we must look to getting him moved,’ she declared vehemently. ‘As of this evening, the whole village knows we are harbouringsomeone, even if they don’t know exactly who or what he is. And after his performance on Christmas Eve, it will be only too easy for Gabriel’s enemies to put two and two together.’
The Reverend stared back at his daughter thoughtfully for a second, then giving a quick nod, he turned round to usher the children out. Within minutes, the noise of their departure had faded to a distant clopping of hooves and Hope was finally alone.
Sighing, she collapsed into the chair and stared into the now dying flames in the fireplace. She should feed the fire before it got too low, but sudden exhaustion took hold of her and for a few minutes, she simply sat, relishing the silence.
An unexpected noise aroused her from her stupor. Had her father returned to fetch Anthony's wet clothes? Or mayhap Lucifer had cast a shoe. Wearily she climbed to her feet and went towards the door. She was just about to shout, when she saw the knob begin to turn slowly. Heart in her mouth, she froze, staring as the latch clicked and the door carefully pushed open. Moments later she stood face to face with a man she didn’t recognise. He faltered, seemingly as surprised to see her as she was him and they stared at each other for what seemed like endless seconds.
Then finally spying the pistol in his hand, she gasped, turned on her heel and ran towards the stairs.
She got as far as the bottom step before a large hand grabbed hold of her hair and yanked her backwards. There was a loud crack before blackness descended and she knew no more.
Chapter Sixteen
Reverend Shackleford found it hard to believe it was still early evening when he finally guided the horse and cart into the yard next to the vicarage. He wasted no time yelling for Seth who was likely somewhere about. At least the Reverend hoped so. He knew it was the stable lad’s wont to go for a swift tankard at the Lion before heading to his bed above the stable, but hopefully the lad had not yet finished his supper.
Fortunately, Seth was still in the kitchen and clearly acquainted with recent events, came running out quickly. Behind him was Mrs Tomlinson and Lily and lastly a very reluctant Freddy.
The front door however remained closed, the loud wailing coming from the other side of it clearly masking any noise coming from outside.
