‘But most of the villagers in Blackmore know where I’ve gone,’ Anthony countered. ‘If the individuals looking for George are determined enough, it’s only a matter of time before someone mentions I brought an unfamiliar lad with me to do some labouring.’
‘I don’t reckon anybody in Blackmore has seen George,’ his father retorted, ‘and I certainly haven’t mentioned you taking on a boy to help you with the work here.’ Reverend Shackleford thought back to the uncomfortable feeling he had in the Red Lion when he first heard about the puff guts who was possibly Henry Atkins.
‘Will and Luke know,’ Anthony said abruptly. His father groaned.
‘Will’s no problem,’ they’ll be lucky to get a grunt out of him. ButLuke. Thunder an’ turf, he’s a right jaw-me-dead. Ask him the time, and he’ll tell you how to build a deuced watch.’ The Reverend shook his head in frustration.
‘If we return to Blackmore immediately, we might be in time to ensure he doesn’t say anything,’ Grace declared. ‘I mean, it’s unlikely the varmints will be back quite this quickly.’ She shook her head and turned back to George. ‘It’s my belief it will be safest for you to remain here with Anthony,’ she continued, her voice gentle. ‘We will return to Blackmore immediately and seek out Luke and Will.’ Then turning her attention to Anthony, she added, ‘I will send a missive to Felicity immediately to ask if she has any knowledge of the Uxleys.’
‘And me and Percy will take a visit to Exeter,’ the Reverend added. ‘It’s a long time since we’ve paid our respects to the Bishop. While we’re there we can make a few discreet enquiries.’
Georgiana felt her eyes well up again. ‘You’ve all bin so kind,’ she whispered. ‘An’ you ‘ave me thanks, from the bottom of me ‘eart. I dunno ‘ow I’ll ever repay yer.’
She looked over at Jennifer and found the other woman looking at her strangely. ‘By ‘eart, do you meanheart?’ she quizzed. George winced and glanced over at Anthony before nodding her head, clearly ashamed.
‘Anthony … I mean, Mr. Shackleford is trying to get me to speak proper, but I reckon it’d be easier if ‘e jus’ cut out me tongue.’
Jennifer held out her hand and shook her head. ‘No … no … I’m so sorry, I wasn’t criticising your speech.’ She paused, then ploughed on. ‘It’s just that you said ‘eart forheart, ‘ave forhave, and ‘ow forhow.’ She looked round the table. ‘What if it’s not Uxley, butHuxley?’
Anthony nodded slowly. ‘That would make sense,’ he agreed.
‘Huxley,’ Grace mused, with a smile of approval at her quick-thinking daughter. ‘That does sound more likely.’
‘Right then, Anthony, lad,’ Augustus Shackleford muttered. ‘I reckon a bit of bread and cheese and we’ll be on our way.’
∞∞∞
Agnes couldn’t help wondering how poor Mrs. Morton was. True, she was well past her three score years and ten, and the Almighty had likely been preparing the old goosecap a place for the last twenty years. But still, Blackmore wouldn’t be the same without her.
Sipping her tea, Agnes gave a small chuckle. If it was anything like the last time, Augustus would undoubtedly have all on sending her anywhere. Indeed, when he’d read her the last rites on the preceding occasion, she’d told him in no uncertain terms that she’d changed her mind and would stay until after Prudence’s wedding. That was six years ago.
Still, the fact that her husband had not yet returned, told the matron that this time, Mrs. Morton was truly on her way upstairs, though clearly she was taking her time about it.
Agnes helped herself to a piece of Mrs. Tomlinson’s apple cake and looked out towards the garden. It was a beautiful day, most definitely not the kind one would wish to depart this mortal coil on. Taking a bite, Agnes found herself thinking that neither was it the kind of day one would wish to spend lying on a chaise longue.
Surprised at the sudden thought and wondering where the deuce it had come from, Agnes put her piece of cake back onto her plate. Mayhap she’d get Seth to hitch Delilah to the cart and drive her into the village.
Climbing to her feet, Agnes picked up the remainder of the cake and took it in to the kitchen where she had Mrs. Tomlinson wrap it in some muslin. She would take it for Lizzy, she decided. Totally unaware that the cook was regarding her mistress as though she’d suddenly grown two heads, Agnes went outside to find the stable hand.
It took some time to explain to Seth exactly what she wanted. Anyone would think the man simple. What was so difficult about ‘It’s a beautiful afternoon, and I wish to go for a drive into the village.’ It certainly didn’t warrant the look of complete incomprehension on his face.
Still, they got there in the end and were now on their way into Blackmore, though Seth’s continued bewildered glances in her direction were quickly becoming tiresome. As they approached the village, Agnes had a sudden idea. Mayhap Augustus would welcome a slice of cake since Mrs. Morton appeared to be taking an inordinate amount of time kicking the bucket. Tutting at some people’s lack of consideration, she ordered Seth to stop the cart outside the old lady’s cottage and help her down.
She didn’t bother to knock since it was possible she’d arrived at an inopportune moment and didn’t wish to distract her husband if he happened to be overseeing Mrs. Morton’s ascension to the Pearly Gates. Instead, she pushed open the door, went to the bottom of the narrow stairs and listened. After a few seconds, she frowned at the complete silence.
Taking care to make as little noise as possible, since she didn’t wish to disturb Augustus while he was talking to the Almighty, Agnes crept up the stairs. The silence was actually quite soothing, and she felt a sudden well of tears. However much a fussock old Mrs. Morton had been, she’d raised eight children and seen off three husbands, and that took fortitude.
At the top of the stairs, she turned into the small bedroom and spied the figure lying still on the bed. Fumbling for her kerchief, she dabbed at her eyes, feeling suddenly proud of her husband. What a courageous and honourable man he was. She took a step towards the bed and frowned as it suddenly occurred to her that said brave and virtuous spouse was nowhere to be seen. Clearly, Mrs. Morton was already sharing afternoon tea with the Almighty, and Augustus had likely gone to fetch the undertaker.
Sighing, Agnes decided to pay her last respects before leaving. Stepping up to the bed, she looked sadly down at Mrs. Morton’s peaceful features. It looked as though she was simply sleeping. Dabbing her eyes again, she bent down to press a light kiss on the old lady’s forehead, but just as her face was two inches away, the corpse’s eyes suddenly popped open. Both women screamed. Mrs. Morton’s head shot up as she shouted, ‘Murderer!’ headbutting Agnes who stumbled back shrieking, only to trip over the dead woman’s boots and land directly on top of the chamber pot.
Of Reverend Shackleford, there was obviously no sign.
∞∞∞
Completely oblivious to the less than congenial reception waiting for him back in Blackmore, Reverend Shackleford rubbed his hands together in excitement. It was a long time since he’d got his teeth into a good mystery, and he was persuaded that Percy would eagerly embrace the opportunity to do a spot of investigating in Exeter, even if it did mean paying their respects to the Bishop.
‘Do you recollect the name Huxley at all, Mama?’ Jennifer asked as they turned out of the long drive. Grace grimaced and shook her head.
