Cautiously, she tiptoed back towards the stairs, looking up into the shadows. Slowly, she placed a foot on the first step, testing it to see if it creaked. Then another. The sweat began trickling down her back, and suddenly, her fear ran white hot as she heard voices. Heart slamming against her ribs, she stopped, hardly daring to move.
‘It’s in the bloody Morning Post. The bastard’s getting wed.’
‘Blast and bugger his eyes. Who’s he getting leg shackled to?’
‘Some damn chit out of the schoolroom, only this particular chit happens to be the Duke of Blackmore’s sister-in-law.’
Lizzy heard a chair scrape back before crashing onto the floor. ‘Then it’s time we got rid of the bastard once and for all. Did you contact the Upright Man? Tell him I’ll double his price, but I want it doing today. That bastard’s dogged my life for long enough.’
Lizzy didn’t wait to hear any more. Whimpering, she stepped quietly back down the stairs. She was under no illusion. If John discovered her listening, he’d slit her throat.
Once at the bottom, she pulled open the door and stood for a second, her back pressed against it. Closing her eyes, she bit her bottom lip, for a brief second wondering what on earth she was going to do. Then she thought back to the words she’d overheard.
The Duke of Blackmore’s sister-in-law had to be Miss Chastity. Was she betrothed? There had been no mention of it. But at the end of the day, it didn’t matter. John was paying the Upright man to commit murder. If it wasn’t the Duke, it was someone his grace knew. She didn’t quite know the why of it yet, but she’d throw a bloody rub in the way if it was the last thing she did.
Pushing herself away from the door, she looked fearfully upwards, then hurried towards the large gate.
Chapter Nineteen
‘Do you enjoy painting, Miss Shackleford?’ Lord Cottesmore asked politely as they strolled along the footpath next to Hyde Park’s Rotten Row. Chastity resisted the urge to laugh considering her musings before they left.
‘I enjoy it,’ she conceded, ‘but I doubt I’ll ever be the next female Botticelli. In fact, Prudence once declared my Pan bore a striking resemblance to Freddy.’
‘He did,’ declared Prudence, unashamedly eavesdropping from behind them. ‘I think Freddy thought so too. He growled every time he went past the picture. In the end, stepmother had it moved into the scullery.’ She turned to the Earl. ‘That’s the painting, not the dog.’
‘I wondered where it went,’ Chastity huffed. ‘It wasn’t my idea to hang it by the front door.’
‘I think Grace was going through a phase of nurturing our artistic talents,’ Prudence answered with a grin. ‘It was before she married Nicholas,’ she explained to the Earl. ‘I think she was trying to make up for leading us astray during our formative years.’
‘How would you know,’ Chastity scoffed. ‘You weren’t even eight when Grace got married.’
‘I’ll have you know I remember it well,’ Prudence declared. ‘It wasn’t only Freddy who was disturbed by that painting. I still have nightmares about it now.’ She looked down at Mercy who was tugging her hand. ‘Miss Felicity has given us some bread for the ducks,’ the little girl enthused, holding up an unrecognisable lump that may or may not have been organic matter. ‘She said would you mind helping Jennifer?’
Prudence raised her eyebrows knowingly. ‘I’ve been summoned,’ she grinned, allowing herself to be pulled towards the small pond. ‘Remember, you adorable lovebirds, you’re not wed yet, and every Town Tabby within a hundred-yard radius undoubtedly has their quizzing glass trained upon you right this second.’ She laughed gaily as Mercy asked her, ‘What’s a Town Tabby?’
∞∞∞
Reverend Shackleford was just about to settle down with a dish of tea and a piece of Mrs. Pidgeon’s lemon tart, when there came an urgent banging on the front door. He didn’t move for a minute or two, hoping against hope that Bailey wasn’t dozing in his cubby hole again. Unfortunately, the banging came again. This time accompanied by the clanging of the doorbell. As far as the Reverend knew, the Duke was out on business, and Malcolm–well, in truth, Malcolm could be anywhere in London. Even Percy had decided to take Freddy out for a quick ramble around the park opposite.
Sighing, Augustus Shackleford got to his feet and laboriously made his way down the stairs as the banging continued. Clearly this wasn’t a social visit. Finally reaching the bottom, he quickened his steps and hurried across the entrance hall, yelling, ‘I’ll be there in a second. Keep your shirt on.’
Fumbling with the doorknob, he finally managed to drag it open, just in time to watch Lizzy Fletcher faint into Percy’s arms.
‘AGNES!’ bellowed the Reverend as Percy looked in grave danger of expiring on the Duke of Blackmore’s front doorstep. Hurriedly, he stepped forward to help prop the matron up. Where the deuce was Agnes? He tried to remember the last time he’d seen her. It must have been at dinner last night.
‘MY DOVE…’ he yelled again, grunting under the strain of keeping Lizzy’s head from bouncing off the top step. Percy was beginning to turn an interesting shade of purple.
‘DEAREST…’ It had to be said that his last effort was more of an agonised whimper, and never in the whole of their marriage had he been so glad to see his wife unexpectedly appear together with her customary waft of ammonia.
‘Salts,’ he croaked.
‘Oh, my goodness,’ Agnes enthused, totally in her element. With a flourish any physician would envy, she whipped her smelling salts from the depths of her reticule and waved them expertly under the unconscious woman’s nose. Seconds later, Lizzy groaned and came round, staring up into Percy’s now streaming eyes. ‘Please don’t cry,’ she murmured, raising her hand to his cheek. In truth, Agnes had likely been a little too enthusiastic with the salts, but Reverend Shackleford didn’t think it would help the situation to mention it.
Eventually, the two men managed to help Lizzy to her feet while Agnes hovered around waving her cure all at anyone who paused for so much as a second. Clearly it was the most fun she’d had in ages. Together they finally succeeded in manoeuvring the matron onto the recently vacated chaise longue in the morning room.
Wheezing, Augustus Shackleford staggered to his feet and rang the bell summoning assistance from below stairs.
While his back was turned, Lizzy suddenly sat up and grabbed hold of Percy’s collar. It was the choking sound that alerted the Reverend that all was not entirely well. ‘You ‘ave to tell ‘im,’ she sobbed. ‘The Upright Man’s got someone goin’ to ‘ush ‘im. Today.’
