Page 14 of Roseanna (The Shackleford Legacies #3)

Fourteen

It wasn’t often that Augustus Shackleford was truly frustrated with the Almighty. Experience had shown that it never did any good, though there was the odd occasion he felt the need to have more than a quiet word.

This was one of those occasions.

Indeed, as Finn plonked himself down on the chair next to Dougal, pickled egg in his grubby hand, the Reverend found himself not only frustrated, but, if truth be told, a little disheartened. He’d always prided himself on being attuned to the moods of his maker, but in this instance, there was a strong possibility he’d got it entirely wrong.

He glowered at the lad, who was now in the process of dropping bits of yoke down the front of his equally grubby smock.

‘Hoo be things in Caerlaverock?’ Finn was asking the old Scot. ‘Ah cannae wait tae see the Lady Jennifer.’

‘Aye, ah’m certain she be o’ the same mind laddie.’ Dougal gave a largely toothless grin just as the door opened to admit Percy.

‘Da, look who be here?’ Fin yelled excitedly. ‘An’ ma heid hasnae bin turned once, honest.’ He swivelled in his chair to give the Reverend a reassuring thumbs up, only for his smile to falter as he caught sight of the clergyman’s sour face.

‘Be somethin’ wrong wi’ ye, Revren?’ Finn quizzed him, uncertainly.

At the sight of the young lad’s distress, Augustus Shackleford felt his ire disappear. His earlier internal monologue popped abruptly back into his head, promptly followed by the proverb, pride comes before a fall . He nearly laughed out loud. Tare an’ hounds, the Almighty was merely reminding him that he was a deuced pudding head. This lad was someone special. That’s all he needed to know.

‘A touch of gout, lad, is all.’ He ruffled the boy’s hair and added gruffly, ‘If your da gives his permission, Lady Roseanna and I are taking Mr Galbraith for a jaunt in the Duke’s barouche as soon as we’ve eaten. Would you like to come with us?’

Finn’s shining eyes were his reward.

Percy raised his eyebrows as he sat down. Obviously, he had no idea what had brought about Reverend Shackleford’s sudden change of heart, and as always, the curate’s immediate thought was that his superior was up to something. Sending Finn off to who knew where with only the impetuous clergyman to supervise him was a recipe for disaster - and the fact that even the Reverend himself considered Dougal Galbraith to be a totty-headed menace, did not bode well.

However, the last thing Percy wanted to do was disappoint the boy, and the incident with Willie notwithstanding, Finn had been working hard on his letters, and in his adopted father’s opinion, deserved a reward. And truly, the curate was confident that nothing untoward was likely to happen in only a pair of hours.

After a few seconds, Percy sighed and said, ‘I think that’s a splendid idea. In actual fact, I have some free time this afternoon. Why don’t I come along too?’

Augustus Shackleford looked at his curate in astonishment. As far as he could remember, this was the first time Percy had ever actually invited himself on a caper – innocent or otherwise. Indeed, the Reverend found himself suddenly blinking back tears. After their escapade in the London Docks, not two months earlier, the clergyman had firmly believed that his curate had participated in his last ever havey cavey affair. But, despite being as chuckle-headed as ever, it appeared that Percy was yet willing to throw himself into another adventure. It was enough to make a grown man weep.

Of course, what Reverend Shackleford had forgotten, being a man of advancing years, was that Percy Noon actually knew nothing of what was currently happening at Blackmore and had merely agreed to a pleasant afternoon drive. The curate was therefore even less equipped than usual to deal with the potentially deadly turn of events that unfolded over the following few hours.

Before heading to the informal luncheon, Roseanna took Trixie back to her bedchamber. The little dog was perfectly content to snooze on the bed, having covered at least twice the distance of her mistress on their walk up from the gatehouse.

An unsigned note had been left for her stating that the Comte d’Ansouis was expected to arrive early evening and had already requested that his evening meal be served in his bedchamber, siting a desire to be fresh for the entertainments beginning the following day. She couldn’t help breathing a sigh of relief since it meant that she and her grandfather would not have to watch Dougal like hawks during dinner. Ripping the note into tiny pieces to prevent anyone else reading it and wondering why Lady Roseanna Atwood was being informed of the Comte d’Ansouis’ plans, she wrapped the pieces into an old kerchief and stuffed them into the bottom of a drawer. Then, after quickly freshening up in the bowl of rosewater left on her dressing table, Rosie made her way downstairs to join the rest of the family.

The atmosphere over lunch was decidedly subdued. Indeed, so much so that those members of the family not privy to the disaster they were teetering on were left a trifle bewildered.

Being aware of the reason behind the sober mood conversely prompted Roseanna to be at her most vivacious, which further bemused both her sister and her cousins, not to mention her mother who was looking at her as though she’d sprouted two heads. Fortunately, much to Rosie’s relief, her father wasn’t present to query her sudden vivacity, and neither was she discomfited by the presence of Tristan Bernart serving at the table.

Indeed, she suspected that both men were closeted in the Duke’s study with the other missing male members of the family.

‘Ah dae hope ma father’s behaving himself, Lady Roseanna, an’ ah’d just like tae thank ye fer volunteering tae help look after him.’

Roseanna looked over at Brendon Galbraith and smiled. Thankfully, Jennifer’s handsome husband was nothing like his father at all. ‘It’s really no bother,’ she responded, smiling. ‘Both Grandpapa and I thoroughly enjoyed showing Mr Galbraith around the Blackmore estate this morning.’ As she spoke, Rosie was surprised to discover that she wasn’t exaggerating – she actually had enjoyed herself. ‘I have to admit that seeing it from a newcomer’s perspective has opened my eyes somewhat. I had no idea it was so big.’

Brendon chuckled. ‘Ah can guess ma da had a few choice words tae say aboot it.’

‘My grandfather was telling us about life in the vicarage whilst my aunts were growing up, and I suspect Mr Galbraith enjoyed hearing about it as much as I did. I had no idea that my mother and aunts had such an enthralling childhood.’

Overhearing their conversation, her Aunt Patience gave an inelegant snort. ‘I don’t think any of us would have described it as enthralling . Unconventional, most definitely. For the most part, Father simply left us to our own devices, so we basically did whatever we wanted.’

‘What happened in the vicarage, remains in the vicarage,’ Charity interrupted, laughing.

And, just like that, the sombre mood dissipated as her mother and aunts began reminiscing.

‘Do you remember when Anthony fell into the pond at Wistman’s Wood and Pru told him he’d turn into a ghoul?’ Chastity favoured her brother with a wide grin. ‘He thought she meant a bowl of porridge.’

‘It’s a wonder I survived to adulthood.’ Anthony sighed in mock indignation.

‘It was while your father was hiding out in Pear Tree cottage,’ Faith told Roseanna.

‘It was your wedding that Queen Charlotte attended, wasn’t it Aunt Hope?’ Jennifer wasn’t the only one who leaned forward to listen.

‘She did, and I hated it,’ Hope responded with a sigh. ‘Everybody spent the day walking on eggshells until she’d gone.’

‘I know something happened, but Grandpapa would never say what.’ Jennifer’s tone of voice was hopeful, but resigned.

‘He never told any of us either.’ Prudence laughed. ‘But whatever it was, was bad enough that your Aunt Patience had her come out in Bath rather than London.’

‘I think we were all grateful for that,’ Temperance commented with a grin.

‘Speak for yourself,’ Patience retorted. ‘I never wished to wed in the first place. It was you and Grace who bullied me into it.’

‘I shudder even now when I think of what could have happened.’ Temperance shook her head, lost for a second in her memories.

‘Didn’t you want to marry Papa?’ Max was frowning, and his mother broke into a peal of laughter.

‘Of course I did, darling,’ Patience reassured him. ‘And in truth, I think your father’s probably the only one who would have me.’

‘There’s no probably about it.’ Grace commented with a chuckle. ‘And I don’t think anybody will ever be able to fathom how you managed to snare a handsome marquess.’

‘I’m a legend,’ Patience retorted with a wink as she helped herself to an apple. Then, climbing to her feet, she added, ‘Who’s for a game of croquet?’

Roseanna couldn’t help thinking that her Aunt’s abrupt ending of the conversation was deliberate, and she wondered how many more garters her aunts had tied in public.

Uncommonly sad that the lunch had come to an end, she looked down at her pocket watch. She just had time to collect Trixie before leaving to meet her grandfather and Dougal outside the Red Lion. She suspected that John would already be waiting for her in the barouche.

Her intention had been to slip out of the room after giving her mother and sister a swift hug - before they had a chance to ask any questions. Her mother, however, evidently had different ideas. Gripping Rosie’s shoulders, Hope stared into her daughter’s face. ‘Is there anything wrong dearest?’ Her question took Roseanna by surprise. She’d thought herself a master at hiding her feelings from the people she loved, but mayhap she wasn’t quite as successful as she’d believed.

‘I am fine, Mama,’ she answered with a smile. ‘You have no cause for worry.’ Hope gritted her teeth, not believing her daughter’s answer for one instant.

‘You do not have to do this, Rosie,’ she insisted. ‘If you wish Nicholas to assign another to Dougal’s care, I’m certain he will happily do so. In truth, I think both he and Grace are overreacting about the whole business. I doubt very much that a tactless old man is capable of causing that much trouble. And I’m entirely certain that both Wellington and Grey are accustomed to dealing with much worse.’

Evidently, her father hadn’t shared the other, much more perilous, reason for getting Dougal out of the way and she couldn’t help wincing internally at the trouble he’d likely find himself in when it was all over, and his wife found out the truth.

Leaning forward, she enfolded her mother in a hug. ‘I’m perfectly content to play the nursemaid,’ she declared. ‘Dougal Galbraith is an interesting character, and of course, Grandpapa is, well… Grandpapa.’ She gave an impish grin. ‘This morning, I learned about Aunt Grace’s suitor – the one you all apparently tried to poison.’

Hope laughed, just as Rosie had hoped. ‘Poor Mr Carruthers. I don’t think he ever realised what had caused his indisposition.’ She returned her daughter’s hug before stepping back. ‘Make sure you inform me of your return.’

Fortunately, she was not subjected to the same cross-examination from her sister. Frankie had merely demanded her twin reveal all as soon as she returned.

Minutes later, Rosie was hurrying towards the waiting barouche, Trixie under her arm. Breathlessly, she apologised for being late, only to realise, as she did so, that their driver had changed. Her heart sank a little as she realised it was Thomas. He gave her a toothless grin and tipped his cap. She’d first met the one-legged coachman when still only a child. Looking at his grizzled features now, she couldn’t even begin to imagine how old he actually was. She just knew that he’d lost his leg in the Battle of Trafalgar and been with the Duke ever since.

As they lurched forward, she gripped the side of the carriage and held tightly onto Trixie. Her Uncle Nicholas had always had a reputation for collecting waifs and strays from his naval days, but she couldn’t help but question his decision to employ a coach driver with only one leg. When questioned, her Aunt Grace had laughingly informed her that Thomas had been much worse in his younger days, though, apparently his terrible driving had nothing to do with his missing limb. Unsurprisingly, the Duchess’s words hadn’t provided much comfort…

Less than twenty minutes later, Thomas brought the barouche to a halt outside the Red Lion. Her grandfather had earlier suggested they take the Totnes Road this afternoon, stopping at a small farmhouse selling scrumpy. Although Rosie had no intention of taking even the smallest sip of the rough, unfiltered apple cider, Dougal had been worryingly enthusiastic. As she waited for the two men to appear, Rosie sighed. While the morning had been entertaining, she wasn’t looking forward to the prospect of keeping her companions on the straight and narrow. Even the slightest possibility of either man returning to Blackmore half foxed at the same time as a suspected murdering conspiracist did not bear thinking about.

There was no doubt that this was one of the Reverend’s more bacon-brained ideas and Rosie had been sorely tempted to throw a rub in the way. But at the end of the day, she had no wish for her grandfather to end up in the suds.

But then she hadn’t realised they’d be accompanied by a one-legged coach driver.

As she waited, her unease gradually increased from a slight feeling of disquiet to a sense of doom reaching almost biblical precautions.

So, when a slight commotion heralded the arrival of her two companions, she was almost hysterically relieved to discover that Percy and Finn would be accompanying them. Their presence would ensure that There was no chance of her grandfather having more than one small cup of cider while his curate was looking on. And then, of course there was Finn.

Rosie wasn’t sure what had weakened the Reverend’s resolve to keep the lad away from Dougal Galbraith’s disruptive influence, but she suspected it might have something to do with Finn’s barely restrained excitement at the mere thought of riding in an open top carriage. She moved over so that he and his adoptive father could squeeze in beside her.

‘Since there are so many of us, Thomas, I would be grateful if you’d go a little slower. It wouldn’t do for any of us to fall out.’ Rosie did her best to ensure that her voice contained a pleasing mix of politeness and authority, and overall, she felt satisfied that she had achieved the correct balance.

That was until Thomas flicked the reigns and the horses shot off like they’d been fired from a musket.