The five men sat in silence for a while, watching the cobbled streets and houses give way to pasture and cornfields. After about half an hour, the fields again began to make way for buildings as they approached the small town of Topham on the River Exe.
‘Do we go storming in through the front door?’ Malcolm asked. Nicholas pursed his lips.
‘I think initially we take the polite route, see what that brings us,’ the Duke answered.
‘Let me knock at the door,’ Anthony suggested. ‘I know what Linfield looks like, and if the bastard is there, at the very least, the sight of me is likely to put him off balance.’ Nicholas paused, then gave a quick nod.
‘I’ll go with you,’ Reverend Shackleford chimed in. ‘Linfield may not know I’m your father, but likely he’ll be reluctant to point a pistol at a man of the cloth.’
‘There’ll be no shooting unless someone’s life depends on it,’ Nicholas ordered.
‘All this is assuming Linfield is actually in residence,’ Malcolm added.
‘Should I sneak round to the back door, your grace?’ Percy demanded. ‘You know, stop the blighter if he runs.’
The other four men simply looked at him in bemused silence.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ten minutes later the carriage began slowing down, finally stopping a little way from a handsome townhouse with three floors.
‘Malcolm and I will wait here while you gain entrance, Anthony,’ Nicholas declared. ‘We have a good view of the front door.’ Then he cleared his throat and looked over at the eager curate. ‘I suggest you also wait here for the moment, Percy, just until we see how the land lies.’ Unaccountably, the small man looked actually disappointed but after a moment, offered a brief nod.
A few minutes later, the Reverend and Anthony were knocking at the front door. After a couple of minutes, it was answered by a small woman wearing a cloth cap and an apron. ‘Clearly, the bastard’s coffers won’t stretch to a butler,’ Malcolm murmured.
They couldn’t quite hear the conversation, but at length, the maid stood aside and let them in, the door shutting like a death knell behind them.
‘You think it wise we sit and twiddle our thumbs here?’ Malcolm growled after a few minutes had passed.
‘We’ll give it another five minutes,’ Nicholas responded. ‘If Linfield and Georgiana aren’t there, all of us charging in will not help matters at all.’
‘And if he is?’ The Duke was just about to answer when another carriage passed them, stopping directly outside the townhouse. As soon as the carriage came to a stop, the door swung open, and a tall thin man jumped quickly down the steps and strode up the path to the door.
‘Devil take it, that’s got to be Linfield,’ Nicholas growled as they watched him fish a key out of his pocket.
‘Talk about bad bloody timing,’ Malcolm muttered.
‘Or good,’ Nicholas countered. ‘We’ll follow Percy’s plan and head round to the rear entrance.’
The three men climbed down from the carriage, watching the front of the house carefully to see whether they were being observed. A few minutes later, they’d made it through a side gate and were creeping round the side of the house.
∞∞∞
Anthony felt for the comforting shape of the pistol in his jacket pocket. In truth, he felt done to a cow’s thumb. His chest was throbbing in time to his heartbeat, but there was no way he was going to leave George’s rescue to others. Gritting his teeth, he waited, eventually hearing footsteps coming towards the door. Just before it opened, he glanced over at his father. ‘Let me do the talking, Son,’ the Reverend murmured. Anthony didn’t argue but gave a quick nod to indicate his agreement.
The door finally opened to reveal a young maid of all work. ‘Can I ‘elp you?’ she queried, with a nervous look behind her.
‘We are here to visit with the mistress of the house,’ Reverend Shackleford intoned in his bestman of Godvoice.
‘Err… the mistress is indisposed.’
‘My dear child, no one is indisposed to the Almighty. Pray tell her we are here.’ With a beatific smile, he stepped over the threshold obliging the maid to move hurriedly to the side. ‘Is there a small space we might avail ourselves of while we wait?’ the Reverend queried, folding his arms and planting himself squarely in the middle of hall.
‘I… I…’ the maid wrung her hands, clearly at a loss as to what to do.
Anthony waited silently, fighting the urge to shake the woman. The maid had not declared her mistress out but indisposed, and she was obviously frightened. He was beginning to think that George was indeed somewhere in the house.
After a few seconds, she hesitantly led them into a small anteroom off the hall. ‘If you’ll wait in ‘ere… I’ll… I’ll tell the mistress,’ she mumbled before scurrying away.
