‘P’raps ‘e wants you to stay ‘ere a bit longer, Sir,’ commented Daisy, the scullery maid, ‘given wot’s ‘appenin’ wi’ Miss Chastity.’
Reverend Shackleford paused with his bread and honey halfway to his mouth as Daisy’s words sank in.
‘I wasn’t aware that anythingspecificwas happening with Chastity,’ the clergyman frowned, putting his bread down. ‘What kind ofhappeningmight you be referring to?’
‘Ain’t you ‘eard then, Sir?’
Swallowing a sudden onset of indigestion, the Reverend became aware that the kitchen had gone entirely silent. The bread and honey congealed into a large lump right in the middle of his breadbasket. Feeling an abrupt sense of déjà vu, he stifled a groan and shook his head slowly.
‘Daisy, keep yer trap shut an’ get on wi’ yer chores. It ain’t fer the likes o’ you to be botherin’ the Revren wi’ any bit o’ gossip.’
Entirely sure that he didn’t want to know whatever it was the scullery maid had heard, Reverend Shackleford nevertheless coughed and managed, ‘Please continue, Daisy.’
The young woman looked uncertainly over at the Cook who shrugged and pursed her lips.
‘Well, the fing is, Sir,’ the scullery maid ploughed on, ‘apparently, she propo…propos…’
‘Propositioned?’ the Reverend interjected faintly.
‘That’s the word, Sir,propositioned. Well, they’re saying that Miss Charitypropositioneda gentleman right in the middle of the Duke of Blackmore’s ballroom.’
Chapter Four
‘Percy, are you in there?’ Reverend Shackleford banged on his curate’s bedroom door urgently.
After what seemed like forever, the door opened revealing Percy dressed solely in his inexpressibles. ‘Thunder an’ turf, Percy, I’ve seen more deuced meat on a chicken,’ the Reverend muttered. ‘Why aren’t you dressed?’
‘I’ve just this second risen out of bed,’ the curate defended. He gave a slight pause before adding, ‘It’s very early, Sir, but don’t worry, it will take me but a minute to finish my packing.’
‘Hold your horses, Percy lad, we’re not going anywhere,’ Reverend Shackleford sighed. ‘Have you seen the deuced weather?’ Without waiting for an invitation, he stomped into the room, sat on Percy’s bed and stared morosely at the floor.
‘Perhaps the Almighty still has work for you to do here,’ the curate faltered, trying hard to hide his relief at the thought of postponing his confrontation with Lizzy Fletcher.
‘Oh, He’s madethatvery clear,’ Augustus Shackleford replied heavily. ‘And I had such high hopes, Percy. ‘High hopes…’
‘Err … well … so did we all,’ responded the curate carefully, wondering what on earth his superior was talking about.
‘Well, I’d better be getting along to the Duke’s study,’ the clergyman continued. ‘Best Nicholas hears it from me.Again.’ He shook his head sadly, adding, ‘He’ll be setting me a deuced bed up in there soon,’ before climbing to his feet as Percy looked on bewilderingly.
‘I suppose I should be thanking the Almighty there’s only one more to go, though I can’t imagine there’s a man in the whole of England beef-witted enough to take Prudence on.’ The Reverend made his way to the door and pulled it open, just as Percy found the courage to ask, ‘Has something bad happened, Sir?’
‘I suppose it depends on what you would define as bad, Percy,’ he sighed. ‘In this family, it’s just business as usual.’
∞∞∞
Try as she might, Chastity could not banish the Earl of Cottesmore from her mind. Despite Nicholas’s obvious belief that the man was a killer, there was something about Christian Stanhope that drew him to her. And it wasn’t simply his spectacular looks. She might be flighty, overly emotional and inclined to sentimental overtures (her family’s description) but she was also fair minded and reluctant to dismiss a person solely on other people’s opinions.
Not that she would dare tell her brother-in-law that. But there was nothing to stop her making her own enquiries. Throwing back her bed covers, she padded to the window and pulled aside the heavy drapes. The small park opposite the townhouse was entirely covered in a thick blanket of snow. As she stared, the glass began to fog up, and she abruptly became aware of the cold.
Shivering, she was about to climb back under the covers when the sound of laughter drew her back to the window. Rubbing at the misted pane, she grinned as she spied Prudence and Anthony already up and dressed, currently throwing snowballs at each other with Freddy dancing between them.
Impulsively, she drew her nightgown over her head and quickly pulled on some clothes. Her maid would not be coming in with her morning chocolate for another hour at least, and since she was now wide awake… Well, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a snowball fight with her siblings, especially since snow was a rare occurrence in Devonshire.
Quickly piling her hair into an untidy knot, she plonked a bonnet onto her head and shrugged into her oldest coat. Chuckling, she imagined Grace’s face should she have dared use her new midnight velvet pelisse to cavort in the snow. Finally, sitting on the bed, she pulled on her trusty boots. The ones she always wore in Blackmore. Shrugging off the sudden longing for home, she threw open the door … and ran straight into her sister standing directly outside.
∞∞∞
27thJune 1798
