The two men tiptoed down the corridor towards a door at the end, just in time to hear the less than dulcet tones of Percy’s mother declare that if the bloody jackanape came any closer, she’d cut off his baubles and turn ‘em into a pair of earrings.
Chapter Twelve
Charity had nearly finished her hot chocolate and was beginning to get a little anxious. It was one thing to decide she was a woman of the world and enter a coffee shop alone for a mere half an hour. It was quite another to remain seated for long enough to become a focus of interest. And she suspected that having a large dog at her feet simply added to the curiosity.
She’d just decided that she would go and look for her father and Percy, when she heard the door open. Looking up hopefully, her heart thudded as she observed Jago Cardell enter the cafe. His stature was such that he seemed to dwarf everyone present. Swallowing, she gave him an uncertain smile. By rights, she should no more be sitting in a coffee house with an unmarried gentleman than she should be sitting on her own. It had not occurred to her that he might arrive before her father, thus leaving her unchaperoned.
Although Mr Cardell did not seem particularly perturbed to find her seated alone, and, smiling back at her, strode over to the table without hesitation. ‘May I sit, Miss Shackleford?’ he asked for politeness’ sake. Charity inclined her head as graciously asher heightened colour would allow. Truly, anyone observing her now would think her a light-skirt.
As Jago Cardell seated himself, the serving maid hurried over to take his order, her side glance of admiration unmistakeable. Unaccountably, Charity found herself irritated at the woman’s brazen smile, and as a result, her request for a pot of tea came out more like an order – which of course vexed her all the more. Not that the infuriating wench seemed aware of the glares Charity was casting in her direction, and after favouring the handsome Cornishman with one last coquettish glance, she flounced off into the kitchen with their order.
‘Are your father and Percy delayed?’ he asked, bending down to give Freddy a fuss.
‘I’m certain they will be here presently,’ she responded, her tone terse enough to have him look over at her in surprise.
Damn and blast, she thought, berating herself silently. Now was hardly the time for jealousy to rear its ugly head. There was too much at stake. ‘Forgive my rudeness, Mr Cardell,’ she said contritely. ‘I believe I am allowing my anxiety to get the better of me.’ Not entirely a lie.
His hurried assurance that she hadn’t been rude at all came at the same time as their tea, and this time, Charity was able to offer the shameless chit a gracious smile which she was persuaded would have impressed even Grace. As soon as they were alone again, she took a deep breath. ‘I have much to tell you,’ she murmured, taking care to keep her voice low. ‘I had thought to delay until my father arrived, but I feel the information cannot wait any longer.’
Jago Cardell raised his eyebrows at her statement but did not reply immediately. Indeed, he seemed to be involved in some kind of internal debate, and so she remained silent, unsure whether he wanted her to continue. She was surprised at the tone of his voice when he finally spoke. He seemed almost resigned, but to what she could not tell.
‘I too have … developments to share with you, Miss Shackleford which I believe will affect the discussion we had last night.’ He took a sip of his tea, staring at her intently, and she realised he was waiting for her to go first.
Gripping her tea dish with both hands, Charity took another deep breath. ‘I’ve seen Jack,’ she whispered. As he stared at her in confusion, she added, ‘Today.’ She paused and gave a triumphant smile. ‘I know who he is.’
She saw the moment her declaration sank in. She’d expected his expression to be triumphant, but instead, all she saw was relief. ‘I think his real name is George,’ she continued when he didn’t speak, ‘and he works in the butcher’s shop near to the quay.’
‘How?’ Jago finally managed, wishing the dish he was cradling contained something much, much stronger.
‘I think I need to start at the beginning,’ Charity said with a sigh, ‘which will help shed some light why my father and Percy have been delayed.’ She went on to describe exactly what had happened from the moment her father had discovered Mary Noon missing, to her discovery of the elusive Jack’s identity.
‘Unfortunately, I have no idea where my father and Percy are now,’ she finished, unable to keep the concern out of her voice. ‘The last we spoke, they were going to discuss Mary’s disappearance with the Custom’s officer.’ She paused beforeadding ruefully, ‘I’d like to say that my father disappearing for several hours at a time is unusual, but in truth, it’s not. It drives my stepmother to distraction.’
‘Do you think it possible the Reverend has discovered where Mary is and taken matters into his own hands?’ Jago asked tightly.
Charity thought for a second. ‘His meddling has got him and poor old Percy into more hobbles than I care to remember,’ she sighed, ‘though I cannot imagine even he would be foolish enough to risk the wrath of a gang of murderous smugglers.’
A sudden commotion coming from the small kitchen drew their attention. ‘Ere, wot the devil d’yer think yer doin’?’
Unbelievably, Charity heard her father’s voice respond, with the same fervour he usually reserved for reading the final paragraph of one of Percy’s epic three-hour sermons.
‘You may have beentoldthat God works in mysterious ways, my good woman, but you see before you living proof. A sinner who has just this very moment received a message fromOnHigh. An epiphany you might say.’
‘A wot?’
‘Indeed, you may actually be the first to witness with your very own eyes my companion’s road to Damascus.’ The Reverend suddenly appeared in the doorway, looking wildly around. On spotting Charity, his relief was palpable. She had time to wonder why he wasn’t wearing his cassock when he suddenly turned back, yelling, ‘Praise the Lord,’ before yanking a bony individual wearing the missing cassock out of the kitchen.
For a second, Charity stared in confusion at the dirty, wild-haired creature wearing her father’s second-best robe. Then, with a thrill of disbelief, she realised the person was none other than Mary Noon. ‘Bless you, my son,’ she chortled as the Reverend determinedly dragged her towards the door, Percy trailing behind. As he passed their table, he mouthed, ‘Percy’s room’ without stopping. Seconds later, they were gone.
Charity turned back to Jago Cardell who was watching the whole proceedings in disbelief. ‘Well, I think we can safely answer my last question,’ was all she commented tartly.
∞∞∞
‘So how did you get her past Joseph Smith?’ Charity asked.
‘Well, he’s undoubtedly going to have a bit of a headache, but the Almighty must have approved, seeing as he left the mallet there in the first place.’ The Reverend shrugged. ‘Then we just followed our noses. To be honest I’m not sure I’d be very keen to use that establishment again after seeing inside their deuced kitchen.’ He shuddered.
‘I assume you didn’t kill the guard,’ commented Jago drily.
