Page 40 of Hastings (Brothers in Arms #15)

CHAPTER 40

H astings couldn’t believe Maddy had baked bread for him. He’d never expected anything like that from her.

He knew she had feelings for him, but not like her feelings for Stephen, even after their night together. She cared for him, but it wasn’t love. She loved Stephen. He didn’t mind. He’d loved plenty of people before and not been loved back. At least Maddy hadn’t abandoned or tried to kill him. And being part of what Maddy and Stephen had was almost as good as if they loved him, too.

They were all admiring Maddy’s bread, which was a little dry but no one said so, when a young boy appeared with a message for Stephen.

“From Tuck?” Stephen asked with a frown. “That’s odd.”

“Another fellow said to come quick,” the boy told him.

“Who?”

The boy shrugged. “Don’t know. He gave me a penny to deliver the message.”

He started to run off, but Hastings grabbed him by the arm. “Who are you? Tom Hutchinson’s boy? It’s Peter, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir, sheriff,” the boy said with a big grin. “Can’t believe you remember my name!”

“Are you sure the message wasn’t for me?” Hastings asked, frowning. He looked over at Stephen. “I don’t want you to get caught up in the thick of that.”

“No, sir.” The boy shook his head. “He said to send the parson round right quick. Reckon old Tuck is about to meet his maker. Or the other fellow, eh, parson?” The boy burst out laughing at his own joke.

“Petey Reynolds, that is no way to talk about a man who may be dying.” Stephen put his napkin down on the table and stood up. He looked around with a frown. “He is dying, correct?”

Maddy shrugged. “I’ve never met the man. Only heard about him. But I suppose you’ve got to go see, either way, don’t you?”

Just then the fire bell in the town started ringing. “Fire,” Hastings said, shoving his chair back. “I’ve got to go.”

“I should go with you,” Stephen said.

“You can’t,” Maddy told him, a hand on his arm. “What if Mr. Tuck dies and you’re not there?” She stood up. “I’ll go with you, Stephen. Essie, can you go with Hastings?”

“You don’t have to, Es,” Hastings told her.

“That’s all right. I was already planning on going,” Essie said, shoving another bite of bread in her mouth.

“I’ll be fine,” Stephen told Maddy, patting her hand. “There’s no need to trouble yourself.”

“Won’t you let me come?” she asked beseechingly, and Stephen smiled.

“Of course. I’d appreciate the company.”

“Of all the times for Tuck to turn up his toes,” Hastings muttered. He came around the table, and after hesitating a moment with a look at Essie, he gave Maddy a quick, hard kiss. “Keep an eye on him, will you?” he asked her. “And yourself, too. At least you’ll be together.”

He marched over to Stephen and gave him a kiss just like the one he’d given Maddy. He grinned as he looked between them. “I could get used to goodbyes like this.” When he realized he’d never get the chance to become accustomed to it, his happiness clouded over. So far, he’d refused to even think about their imminent, much more permanent goodbye.

“So could I,” Stephen said, putting his arm around Maddy and squeezing her tight with a kiss on her temple. “We’ll be back as soon as we can. Hopefully this is just another one of Tuck’s attempts to gain sympathy.”

“The man is a scoundrel,” Hastings agreed, grabbing another piece of bread off the table to bring with him. “Don’t let him talk you into anything.” He headed for the door, reaching for his hat on the way. “Come on, Essie. Sheriffing to do.” There was something niggling at the back of his mind, but he shrugged it off and headed for the village.

They followed the smoke to the village square. It had still been visible in the twilight. When they got there quite a few people filled the square, which seemed to be in some chaos. A line had formed, and buckets of water were being passed down so men could throw the water on Mrs. Thompson’s apartments, between the mercantile and the hat shop.

“What happened?” Hastings demanded as he dismounted. Several voices tried to answer him at once.

“You. Bascomb. Tell me,” he said to the head groom at the village stable.

“Someone started it,” Bascomb said. “There was a pile of brush under the stairs. Probably one of those Hutchinsons. They’re forever up to mischief.”

“Not like this,” the shopkeeper Mr. Howard said. “The boys can get up to trouble, but they’ve never vandalized someone’s home or set fires before. Mrs. Thompson was inside! They’d never risk hurting someone in the village.” Several people standing around angrily agreed with him.

“All right, all right,” Hastings said. “I’m not going to arrest the lads. Yet. First, we’ve got to put this fire out.”

It didn’t take long. The fire was more smoke than flame. The wood had been damp and green, no good for starting a fire. By the time it was out, a coach from the Park had arrived carrying several footmen and Brett Haversham.

“Have you any idea who might have wanted to cause the widow harm?” Haversham asked him as they looked at the pile of blackened brush.

“None,” Hastings said. “She’s harmless, and everyone seems to like her.”

Essie was looking at the pile next to them. “So, you’ve got to have a certain kind of wood to start a fire?” she asked curiously. “I didn’t know that. I just thought wood, fire. In the city we throw a little coal in there and you’ve got a blaze.”

“Yes, that’s how we do it out here in the country, too,” Haversham said, amusement in his voice. “Although not when vandalizing property, I suppose.”

“Yes, it’s clear whoever did this doesn’t know how to start a proper fire,” Hastings said impatiently. “We’ve established that.”

“I can’t imagine who wouldn’t know that here,” Haversham said. “Most people learn that at an early age for harvesting and clearing and so on. Perhaps they deliberately did it poorly to cause a disruption and not inflict serious damage.”

“The damage appears serious enough,” Hastings said angrily. “The house will have to be torn down and rebuilt, at least in part.”

“Sheriff,” someone called to him. He turned and saw one of the villagers waving him over. As he got near, he saw that she was standing next to Mrs. Thompson, who was sitting on a chair someone had brought around, and the young Dr. Pearson was beside her.

“Sheriff,” Mrs. Thompson said. She coughed roughly as the doctor rubbed her back.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Thompson,” Hastings told her. “I’ll find who set the blaze. Have you somewhere to stay?”

“She’ll be staying with us for the night,” Dr. Pearson said, indicating his wife, who was standing off to the side, holding his bag. “I’ll need to keep an eye on her lungs. She inhaled a great deal of smoke.”

“Saw someone,” Mrs. Thompson croaked out in her ruined voice. She coughed again. “No one I knew.”

“You didn’t know them?” Hastings asked. “Are you sure?” Mrs. Thompson was the oldest person in the village. She knew everyone.

She shook her head. “I yelled at him out the window and he ran off.”

“A stranger?” Haversham said sharply from where he’d come up beside Hastings.

Hastings and Essie exchanged a look.

“Grab your footmen,” Hastings said to Haversham. “We need to get back to the parsonage. Mrs. Tulane is there alone.”

“Where are Stephen and Miss Hyde?” Haversham asked.

“They went out to Tuck’s,” Hastings told him, shoving his way through the crowd. “He sent for them.”

“Why?” The Grady stepped out into Hastings’s path. “What’s wrong with Tuck?”

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Hastings said. He had a very bad feeling about this. “They sent for Stephen and told him to come right away. We assumed he was at death’s door.”

“Damn him,” the Grady said, whipping his hat off and slapping his thigh with it. “And me, right over the hill. He’ll die from stubbornness, is what. I just saw the fool yesterday. He was fine. Now he’s probably cut a hand off or some idiot thing.”

Hastings began to run for his horse. “Haversham! Go to the parsonage with your men. Essie, we’re for Tuck’s farm.” This was what had been bothering him. How could he have been so stupid to leave her unprotected?

“I’m coming with you,” Grady hollered.

Hastings didn’t care who came. He was going right now. And if they had hurt Stephen or Maddy in any way, heads would roll. Hastings would kill them all.