“GRACE.” His voice triggered a sudden silence, and four heads peered down at him from the top of the bannister.
“She stole my ribbon, Father.”
“It was my ribbon first.”
“You have too many ribbons anyway.”
“And you don’t have anyhair to put them in.”
“You take that back, or I’ll…”
The Reverend sighed and prepared to wade in. It wasn’t uncommon for such a fracas to end up with bloodshed. “Fripperies,” he yelled, “have no place in a house belonging to God.”
“’Tis a blessing this one belongs to you then, Father.” He couldn’t pinpoint which of the culprits had uttered the blasphemous remark, but enough was enough. He drew himself up ready to deliver a blistering set down, but before he had the chance to open his mouth, there was a loud knock on the door to which Freddy reacted as if they were under a particularly nasty attack by barking loud enough to wake the dead.
The four girls wasted no time in grasping the opportunity to disappear, and after hurriedly depositing Freddy in the study, the Reverend was forced to take more than one deep breath in order to ensure he was comporting himself in the appropriate pious manner required of a vicar. The loud knocking continued until he finally composed himself enough to throw open the door.
Surprisingly, it did not appear to be one of his parishioners standing on his step, but a lad of around twelve. His attire was worn but clean, as was the boy’s face. The Reverend saw none of this, however, and thinking himself at the wrong end of some havey-cavey business, frowned and stepped back, preparing to slam the door in the miscreant’s face.
Before he could do so, however, the boy spoke. “Are you the Reverend Shackleford?” The varmint’s tone was verging on insolence, and the Reverend began to shut the door in distaste. “I’ve a missive from the Duke for ‘im.”
Reverend Shackleford paused. What was the likelihood of the Duke of Blackmore entrusting such a lad with any kind of message? It was indeed very likely to be a sham. But what if it wasn’t. He’d not heard from the Duke since his grace’s arrival, and such a summons was certainly to be expected.
Huffing, the Reverend took a wary step forward. “Give it here then,” he muttered holding out his hand, careful to remain alert for any possible shenanigans. The boy simply stared at him and held the missive behind his back, clearly waiting for some kind of reward. Taking a deep, outraged breath, the Reverend very nearly resorted to swearing. Eventually, however, he calmed down enough to rummage inside his pockets, finally discovering a farthing which he dropped into a suddenly eager outstretched hand in exchange for the now badly creased communication. Which sure enough bore the Duke’s seal.
Praising the Lord that he hadn’t shut the door in the lad’s face, the Reverend tore open the missive and read its contents.
It was as he’d surmised. He had been summoned to attend the Duke in his study at ten a.m. on the morrow. He wasn’t unduly worried but simply assumed that the new incumbent wished to re-establish their acquaintance and verify that the vicar was up to the business of ensuring the new Duke’s soul departed this mortal coil in the right direction when the time came.
Curtly ordering the boy to wait, the Reverend quickly penned a brief response detailing his happy acquiescence, then thrust the note into the boy’s hand and bid him be off lest he find himself in receipt of more than a piece of paper.
After finally slamming the door, he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Looking up, he was surprised to see Grace coming down towards him. This was a turn of events indeed. Usually, his eldest daughter had to be pried out of her room like a cockle from its shell, certainly when her father was at home. The Reverend stood and waited; his mind already turned to the possibility of using this rare opportunity to remind Grace of her duty in the matrimonial stakes. However, as she slowly got to the bottom couple of steps, he couldn’t help but take note of her pallor and frowned, hoping she wasn’t about to come down with some kind of ague.
He was just about to speak, but as his daughterreached the second-to-bottom step, she predictably tripped, falling forward, her hands flailing like a startled starfish before managing to correct herself in time to arrive mercifully upright at the bottom of the stairs.
They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. “Has the note come from the Duke of Blackmore?” she finally asked in a small voice so unlike Grace, the Reverend had to look hard to check he’d got the right daughter.
He was tempted to tell the chit to mind her own business, but in light of the conversation he knew he wasn’t going to be able to put off for much longer, he held his tongue, saying instead, “Indeed. ‘Tis but a summons to wait on him tomorrow, which is nothing more than I expected.”
To his vast surprise, his daughter’s eyes widened as though she’d seen a ghost before falling in a dead faint at his feet.
Chapter Three
“The Reverend Augustus Shackleford.”
Nicholas laid down his pen as he watched the stout man walk into the study, his waistcoat straining to cover his stomach. The last time he’d seen Augustus Shackleford, the Reverend had definitely been a lot trimmer. In all other ways, time, or possibly God, appeared to have treated him very well.
“Your grace,” the Reverend said, cordially, bowing as much as he was able.
“Reverend,” Nicholas acknowledged, gesturing to the chair before the desk. It had taken him every bit of courage he possessed to step into this study, though he doubted he would ever feel comfortable in the leather chair he currently sat in.
The ghost of his father still seemed to linger, and Nicholas knew he would likely never rid himself of the bastard’s presence for the rest of his days.
“May I offer you a drink?”
“Perhaps some cordial? A cold drink would be very welcome on such a warm day,” the vicar responded, pulling out his kerchief and dotting his forehead with it. Nicholas nodded to the butler and invited the Reverend to take a seat.
Reverend Shackleford seated himself with a grateful sigh. He’d forgone the curricle this morning in favour of a sedate walk,thinking the time it took him to reach the Duke’s residence would provide a much-needed quiet interlude to mull over the recent turn of events. Things were clearly much worse than he’d thought. There was plainly something wrong with his eldest daughter.
