‘Would you like me to say a few words in thanks?’ Reverend Shackleford continued into the resulting stony silence. ‘I understand that sometimes such joyous news can be overwhelming.’ He patted the seated man’s hand before adding, ‘As you’re no doubt aware, Morgan – you don’t object to me calling you Morgan do you? I mean we’re almost family. Indeed, I would bethrilledif you’d call me Augustus – where was I? Oh, yes, as I’m sure you’re aware …Morgan… our Lord really does move in the most mysterious ways. I mean, who would have thought a chance meeting in Dartmouth would result in two young people falling in love.’
By this point, Jago’s father looked as though his desire to do violence had escalated to wringing the clergyman’s neck. Indeed, his fingers gripping the armchair were almost white.
‘What say you, Jago? Do you have any objection to me saying a few words?’
‘As if I could stop you,’ responded Jago drily, watching his future father-in-law with his eyebrows raised.‘Is this his normal behaviour?’ the Cornishman murmured with a sidelong glance at Charity.
His bride to be shook her head. ‘Did he perhaps drink too much at lunchtime, do you think, Percy?’
‘Our Father,’ yelled the Reverend abruptly, causing them all to jump.
‘Are you entirely beef-witted?’ Morgan Carlyon interrupted through gritted teeth. ‘Get out of my house this instant and take your strumpet with you.’
‘Who art in Heaven,’ the Reverend continued even louder…
Incensed beyond all reason, the Master of Tredennick sprang to his feet and took two threatening steps forward. ‘Desist, you imbecilic clergyman,’ he roared, then abruptly stopped as he became aware that Reverend Shackleford had fallen silent and everyone in the room was staring.
‘I wasn’t aware you’d regained the use of your legs, Father,’ Jago commented, his voice deceptively mild.
‘A true miracle,’ the Reverend murmured with a surreptitious wink at Charity.
Morgan Carlyon stared for a second at the expressionless face of his son before hurriedly collapsing back into his chair. ‘The extreme emotion must have caused my legs to momentarily work,’ he retaliated with a forced groan. ‘Clearly, it was the anger at these …interlopers,’ he continued, glaring at Reverend Shackleford’s serene countenance.
‘How long have you been able to walk?’ Jago asked steadily, evidently unimpressed with his father’s explanation.
‘Certainly since we arrived,’ the Reverend commented.
Jago shook his head. ‘Why? What did you hope to gain?’ You must know I wanted nothing more than for you to regain the use of your legs.’ He paused, but his father remained coldly silent. ‘I believed that finding Genevieve’s killer would finally allow you to put the past to bed.’ Jago sighed at length.
‘And yet you bring these … persons into my house, forever reminding me of the daughter I lost.’
‘Charity was the one who discovered Jack’s real identity,’ Jago erupted. ‘And she risked her life in doing so. It’s she you must thank when you watch the bastard swing.’
‘Well, this has been most enlightening, but I think I’ve heard quite enough.’ An unknown voice came from the shadows, and Charity drew a terrified breath as the subject of their conversation stepped out from behind the draught screen in the window, a pistol in each hand.
‘Who the hell are you?’ Morgan Carlyon ground out, seeming not to have noticed the weapons pointing directly at them.
‘I’m the bastard you’re apparently hoping to watch swing,’ George Barnet answered calmly.
‘How did you find us?’ Jago questioned, ruthlessly compressing the sick dread that threatened to swamp him.
‘Ah, Mr Cardell,’ Barnet declared expansively, ‘who, it turns out was not MrCardellat all. You’d think I, of all people would have guessed.’ He gave a small chuckle and shook his head. ‘I have to say the trunk at the back of your carriage needs some padding.’ He turned his attention to Charity.
‘So this is the bitch who found me out. Was it at the Castle?’ Feeling the very same terror that had gripped her the first time she had seen this man, Charity stared at him mutely.
‘What, no thanks for introducing you to your husband-to-be?’ the gang leader taunted. ‘Shame your engagement is going to be so short lived, though I don’t think everyone here will be entirely sorry.’ He looked with curiosity at Morgan Carlyon. ‘So what’s wrong with your legs old man?’
‘He suffered an apoplexy after you murdered his daughter,’ Jago burst out, his rage getting the better of him.
‘Sothat’swhy you came to Dartmouth,’ George declared. ‘And here’s me just thinking you were just after the reward.’ He shrugged. ‘So, what was her name, this daughter of yours?’ He addressed the question to Jago’s father.
‘Genevieve Carlyon,’ Jago spat in answer. ‘She was travelling home on theEndeavour.
Abruptly, George Barnet swung the pistol towards Jago, saying in quiet fury, ‘Speak again, and I’ll shoot off your trinkets.’ Then he turned back to Morgan Carlyon, regarding the pale, sweating man with interest. ‘She was one of the passengers pushed off the cliff?’ He cocked his head at the barely perceptible nod he received in return. Then he grinned.
‘Well, I hate to break it to you, Mr Carlyon, but you’ve got the wrong man. How ironic is that?' This time he laughed and shook his head. ‘Whoever scuttled theEndeavourand sent her passengers over that bloody cliff, it wasn’t me.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
