‘You,’ Atkins spat, raising his hand again and shakily pointing the pistol. Anthony didn’t hesitate, he threw himself at the man who’d caused Georgiana so much misery for so many years. The second shot went wide, and without any mercy, Anthony grabbed hold of his opponent’s injured hand and squeezed, causing Atkins to howl like a rabid animal.
Now only intent on escape, the large man kicked out, his foot connecting with Anthony’s injury as he somehow managed to struggle to his feet. Nursing his hand, he turned to run back towards the kitchen, only to stop as one last shot rang out.
As if in slow motion, Henry Atkins fell backwards, his eyes forever open, a bullet wound in the middle of his forehead.
As Nicholas and Malcolm hurried past the body, Anthony pointed to George. ‘She’s been hurt,’ he rasped holding his chest. Malcolm nodded and continued on, kneeling next to the young woman nursing her arm.
Anthony closed his eyes, unable to bear the possibility that she might be dead. Until suddenly he heard, ‘Ouch, watch wot you doin’ wi’ them ‘ands yer foozler, they’re like bleedin’ dinner plates…’
∞∞∞
Georgiana gripped Anthony’s hand as the carriage finally turned into the drive leading up to Ruteledge Hall. ‘Do you think she’ll like me?’
‘She’s suddenly discovered she has a twin sister,’ Anthony responded carefully. ‘It’s a lot for both of you to take in. I think you’ll both need time to adjust.’
George swallowed and nodded, unconsciously rubbing at the birth mark at the top of her leg that signified she was the Earl of Ruteledge’s legitimate granddaughter. Not that she cared. He was just a name to her, and by all accounts, he’d been little more to her sister.
It was nearly a month since they’d succeeded in putting a rub in the way of Simon Linfield’s nefarious plans, and both were only now fit to travel beyond Blackmore. Naturally, that meant that Bovey Manor had been standing empty for all that time. But not for much longer. Autumn was around the corner, and Anthony wanted to be back in the manor before the weather turned.
But before that, and much more importantly, he and George needed to tie the knot.
Georgiana had taken some persuading. Indeed she was adamant she only eventually agreed because he was giving her bloody earache.
Now they were here, not only for the two sisters to get to know one another, but George was hopeful Victoria would feel comfortable enough to attend the wedding.
As the carriage drew to a halt outside the imposing façade, George shuddered. Truly, her sister was welcome to the place. It was a bloody mausoleum.
Now there was a word she never thought she’d even think. But spending weeks in bed had its advantages. Her reading and writing had come on in leaps and bounds. She was still finding it an uphill struggle to mind her Ps and Qs, but she was definitely getting better, especially since discovering the phrasefiend seize itto replace her more colourful expletives.
As Anthony helped her down from the carriage, Judith appeared at the top of the steps with Victoria trailing shyly behind her.
George’s wallop with the candlestick had not actually succeeded in sending Simon Linfield for tea and a red-hot poker with old Nick himself which the Reverend had stated unequivocally was a crying shame, but it had at least rendered the varmint unconscious for long enough to be arrested and taken to Devon County gaol.
His estranged wife Judith had volunteered to stay with Victoria and act as the young woman’s chaperone while the complexities of the late Earl’s will and her inheritance were sorted out. George had rejected any claim to their mother’s money, content to let her sister use the coin to finally begin living on her own terms.
Gripping Anthony’s hand, Georgiana slowly climbed the steps towards her waiting twin. By the time she reached the top, tears were unashamedly running down her cheeks. But as she paused, trying to get herself under control, she saw the very same tears sliding down her sister’s face.
With identical hiccupping laughs, the two girls, separated since birth, hastened towards each other and embraced for the very first time.
Epilogue
The wedding took place in Blackmore church - as had all the Shackleford weddings since Grace Shackleford had first married Nicholas Sinclair nearly twenty years earlier.
Like always, the church was fit to bursting. There were those who had been present at that first wedding and those that talked still about old Queen Charlotte’s mishap in the duckpond.
Naturally, there was concern expressed about Anthony’s distinctly odd choice of wife, especially since nearly everyone in the village had lost money to Mary Noon after betting the youngest Shackleford would marry a title. And, of course, there were the whispered rumours that he’d actually first set eyes on her dressed as a lad…
But still, no one could argue she made a radiant bride.
Everyone present agreed that autumn was the perfect time to get leg shackled and, as expected, all of the Shackleford girls were there with their husbands and numerous offspring.
Indeed, more than one guest commented that there appeared to be more children than adults - so much so that Blackmore’s residents were firmly of the opinion that the Reverend would not be slipping into a comfortable retirement any time soon, since this next generation of Shacklefords would undoubtedly keep him on his toes for a long time to come.
THE END
