‘What are you doing, Sir?’ Percy whispered heatedly.
‘I’m going after her of course,’ his superior retorted. ‘It’s up to me to save her from herself, Percy. There’s no one else to do it.’
‘But what about you, Sir? Who’s going to save you if you fall out of the tree?’ Percy questioned anxiously.
Reverend Shackleford paused and creased his brows as he pondered the curate’s words. ‘You’re absolutely right, Percy,’ he sighed at length. ‘I’d flatten you if I landed on you all the way down here. You’ll just have to climb up behind me.’
‘Me?’ squeaked the small man, ‘but how will that help, Sir?’
‘Well, you’re a bit younger than me Percy, and even though it pains me to say it, a trifle nimbler on your feet.’ The Reverend folded his cassock and placed it on top of Chastity’s cloak. ‘All you have to do if I look like I’m slipping is give me a quick push in the opposite direction.’
‘But what about Freddy?’ the curate asked, his voice taking on a frantic note.
‘Don’t you worry about Freddy, he’ll be perfectly happy sitting on top of your robe. Come along Percy. No more excuses. Let’s have your frock.’
For all of about five seconds, the curate actually considered refusing, but then he thought about his impending conversation with Lizzy Fletcher. If the Reverend should cock up his toes before that happened…’ Hurriedly, he stripped off his cassock.
‘You stay there, Freddy lad,’ Reverend Shackleford murmured as he tied the foxhound to a low-hanging branch and bundled up Percy’s cassock to make it more comfortable. ‘We won’t be long.’ Then he turned towards the lowest branch, coughed and attempted a slight jump. After the third attempt, he managed to hook his arm around the limb. ‘Now would be a good time for the first push, Percy,’ he puffed as he swung slowly backwards and forwards in midair. ‘Like old times, eh Percy,’ he wheezed as the curate reluctantly placed a hand under each swaying buttock. ‘That’s it lad, give me a hard shove.’
Grimacing, Percy bent forward slightly and then pushed upwards with everything he had, just as the Reverend tried to help by kicking out with his feet. Unfortunately, his left boot found Percy’s nose, and the curate went down like he’d been poleaxed. Seconds later, the clergyman managed to swing his leg over the branch and struggle into a sitting position.
The whole procedure had taken nearly ten minutes. ‘What are you doing, Percy?’ Augustus Shackleford queried in a heated whisper.
‘I fink my nothe might be bwoken,’ came the mumbled response from the ground below.
‘I can’t hear a word you’re saying, Percy. Why the devil are you lying on the ground? Having a nap won’t get us up this deuced tree. Chastity’s honour’s at stake here, and that blackguard Stanhope could be up to all manner of wickedness while we sit here prittle-prattling.’
Groaning, the curate climbed to his feet, dabbing at his nose with his kerchief while the Reverend reached up to the branch above him. ‘Get a move on, Percy,’ he grunted, heaving himself unsteadily to his feet. ‘We haven’t got all deuced night.’
Half an hour later, they were both finally seated on the branch that butted up to the open window.
‘I’m not sure this will take our combined weight, Sir,’ Percy panted, as the limb bounced ominously.
‘Nonsense,’ the Reverend mumbled, not daring to look down. Truly, he hadn’t considered how high up their intended destination was.
‘What do we do now?’ Percy went on.
‘Well, we can’t stay here,’ Reverend Shackleford declared. ‘I think I’ve rubbed a hole in me breeches, and if I sit in this position much longer, it’ll be me baubles next.’ Wincing, the clergyman shifted slightly, then stopped as the branch groaned ominously.
‘How are we going to get to the window?’ Percy’s question contained more than a hint of panic.
Reverend Shackleford was silent for a moment, giving the curate the distinct impression that his superior actually had no idea.
‘The distance seems awfully long, Sir. Mayhap we would be better to try and climb back down.’
‘Don’t be so deuced lily livered, Percy. I’m certain we’ve been in worse situations than this.’
‘When?’ Percy hissed as the branch creaked.
Augustus Shackleford gripped the branch tightly and swallowed a small moan.
‘Father! What in blazes are you doing?’ Both men looked up in alarm to see Chastity’s head poking out of the now wide-open window.
‘What does it look like,’ the Reverend answered through gritted teeth. The branch creaked again, and Freddy started whining from the ground below. The very same ground that looked further and further away each time the clergyman looked.
‘I think we might be stuck, Miss Chastity.’ Percy poked his head round the Reverend’s shoulder.
‘Percy!’ exclaimed Chastity aghast. ‘Have you both lost what little sense you had?’
