“I only pray they may not make good their threat against her!”
The lackey hurried to answer a thunderous assault on the front door. With his hand on the post at the foot of the stairs, Gideon turned, still daring to hope that one of the searchers had returned with good news. It was, however, the Earl of Collington who rushed in, hatless, his hair windblown, his manner wildly distraught.
“Villain!” raged the earl, running to seize Gideon by the shoulders and shake him violently. “Where is my daughter? What have you done to bring this disaster down upon us? Why is she not restored to me by this time?”
Pitying the man’s distress, Gideon said, “Sir, I sent a lackey around last night and again this morning, to explain what—”
“To explain that you have donenothing! That you are letting all these hours pass while you make no attempt to save her!” His voice rose to an hysterical shrillness. “Why do you not take them their idiotic icons?”
Detaching Collington’s grip from his shoulders, Gideon said, “My lord, you are overwrought. If you will but—”
“You don’t mean to part with ’em,” shouted the earl. “They’re toovaluable,eh? By God, but you’re just another thief like your worthless sire!” He tore a small pistol from his coat pocket. “Well, I’ll not stand by and let you—”
Gideon grabbed Collington’s wrist, forcing it upward. The pistol exploded, the retort ear-splitting in the narrow hall. Trying not to hurt the half-crazed man, Gideon took a blow across the face and reeled back. Morris ran to his aid, and Naomi’s large groom pushed past the lackey to hold his employer back, but the earl fought them like a mad thing so that it was as much as they could do to restrain him.
The hall was suddenly crowded as Sir Mark and Katrina rushed from the withdrawing room, and Gwendolyn, Wilson, and two maids ran from the kitchen.
Sir Mark thundered, “Howdareyou, sir! Stop this nonsense at once!”
Panting, Collington stopped struggling and glared at him. “An ’twasyourdaughter, you might have some pity!”
Heavy wheels rumbled in the street. From the front door, Wilson called, “There’s a waggon stopped outside, sir. They’re… Good heavens! They’re carrying someone here!”
Gideon reached the door as it swung wide. A laden waggon with blocks behind the wheels stood at the kennel, and two countrymen in gaiters and smocks were carrying someone up the steps on a hurdle.
As he was borne inside, the injured man turned his head weakly.
“Tummet!”exclaimed Gideon.
“Go!” muttered Enoch Tummet. “’Fore they…” His eyes moved to the side and he stopped speaking.
Gideon sent a lackey running for Dr. Lockhart. Gwendolyn, who had hurried to the side of the hurdle and bent low over Tummet, said in a rather scratchy voice, “He has been—been shot… I fear.” She went off with Katrina to assemble linen and medical supplies.
Gideon turned a narrowed stare on the waggoners. “You are very good to have brought him. You must let us repay you for your trouble. Where did you find him?”
One of the waggoners said shyly, “’E wuz crawling by the road, sir. We reckoned at first as ’e be over the oar, as they say. But then my mate seed as ’e wuz hurt. All as ’e could do wuz ask us to bring him here. Which we done, hoping as it bean’t wrong, sir.”
Sir Mark said, “You did exactly right. Now, if you’d just—”
Tummet tugged at Gideon’s sleeve and croaked urgently, “You must go, guv. Quick. Yer lady—”
“Lady Naomi?” Gideon bent over him. “What about her? Do you know where she is? Is she all right?”
There was a vivid bloodstain on Tummet’s shirt, and he was obviously weak and in pain. His eyes darted to the side. He mumbled, “It’s—it’s—”
“Yes, my poor fellow,” said Gideon gently. “What can you tell me?”
The earl, who had watched this dramatic scene in bewilderment, peered at the injured man and said, “You will be well rewarded if you bring word of Lady Lutonville, my good man. Try to tell us.”
Tummet sank back. His gaze fixed on Gideon, he muttered, “Me daughter’s… pill, Guv. Daughter… pill…” And, sighing, he closed his eyes.
“Mind’s wandering, poor fellow,” said Sir Mark, and instructed Wilson to show the waggoners to Tummet’s room.
Watching them climb the stairs, Morris said a puzzled, “But, he—”
Gideon gripped his arm, as if himself in need of support. “I had so hoped he might bring news for us. I know his daughter has an inflammation of the lungs, but I thought someone was caring for her.” He shook his head despondently. “Natural enough that she is all the poor fellow can think of.” His grip on Morris’ shoulder became crushing. “Jamie, I mean to have another try. Newby may have overnighted at my cousin’s house in St. Alban’s. Is a sorry hope, but our last one. Will you come with me?”
Morris stared at him. “But, of course, dear boy.”
