Page 17 of Roseanna (The Shackleford Legacies #3)

Seventeen

If there was one thing Augustus Shackleford didn’t do well, it was waiting. And, as it happened, standing at the bottom of a ladder. What made it worse on this occasion was looking at Percy’s serene expression not two feet away. Well, that and the fact that he was currently battling an irrational urge to plant a prime facer right on the end of his curate’s even-tempered nose.

Gritting his teeth, the Reverend looked back up the ladder where Dougal still had his ear pressed against the grimy windowpane. Of course, this could all be a deuced waste of time. ‘Anything?’ he called up.

Dougal looked down. ‘Ah cannae hear much, but ah ken he be a ne'er-dae-weel. That much be certain. An’ one o’ his flunkie’s called him yer ludship . Ah’d hear more if ah could open the bloody window.’

‘Has the other fellow come back yet?’ Dougal shook his head, causing the ladder to wobble ominously. Startled, Percy clutched at his half, his serene expression vanishing faster than the congregation when the collection box went round.

The Reverend was about to give a very unchristianly snigger, when he suddenly noticed his granddaughter was missing. ‘Where’s Rosie?’ he demanded, feeling suddenly lightheaded.

‘Ah reckon she gaed tae look fer the fella,’ Finn answered.

‘Thunder an’ turf,’ Augustus Shackleford moaned. ‘You need to come down now,’ he hissed up to Dougal. ‘Roseanna’s done a runner.’

‘Ah’ll gae and look fer her,’ Finn offered, stepping forward. ‘Dinnae fash yerself, Revren. Ye stay here an’ look after the dogs.’ He handed the distraught clergyman the two leads, then before anyone had the chance to argue, sprinted off round the corner.

Naturally, by this point, any calmness Percy had been feeling promptly disappeared, and the curate let go of the ladder, about to run after his adopted son - unfortunately, at exactly the same moment that Dougal was easing his hands from the windowsill and lowering one foot down to the next rung of the ladder. The Scot uttered a panicked yell as the ladder wobbled, leaving his foot swinging in midair.

With a gasp, Percy grabbed hold of his side again and slowly the ladder steadied. ‘Get a deuced move on,’ the Reverend shouted up, completely abandoning any efforts at keeping the noise down. Carefully, Dougal stepped down onto the next rung and managed to get a grip on the top of the ladder.

But before he could go any further, the window above him was suddenly thrust open. Thinking they’d been discovered, all three men pressed themselves against the wall. After a few moments when no shout was forthcoming, the Reverend lifted his head and gave Dougal the thumbs up, just as a voice from inside the room thundered, ‘ Merde , you are both imbéciles . You had one job. One .’

Sadly, neither Flossy nor Trixie knew the difference between harmless and non-harmless yelling, and at the sound of the strident voice, both dogs set up a cacophony of barking and dashed under the bottom rung of the ladder. It might have gone reasonably well had the Reverend been able to extract himself from the handles before the dogs had got further than a lead’s length on the other side, but unfortunately said handles were firmly looped around his wrist.

With a surprised ‘woomph,’ the Reverend found himself squashed up against the ladder, which slowly began to slide. Frantically, Percy fumbled to free the loops stuck around the Reverend’s wrist, finally managing to slide them off, just as Dougal shouted a hoarse, ‘Oot the way ye eejit Sassenach God walloper.’

Falling backwards, the two clergymen watched helplessly as the ladder slowly toppled with the Scot desperately hanging onto its top.

Roseanna gasped, coming to a halt as she watched the ladder fell inexorably towards a large oak tree. Seconds later, it crashed into the branches, just as her grandfather and Percy appeared round the corner.

Dougal had completely disappeared from view, and all three humans rushed over to the tree, staring anxiously up into its branches. For a few horrible seconds, there was nothing at all, then all of a sudden there was a rustle and a muttered, ‘Ah think ah might hae broken ma big toe.’

‘Well, I think we can confidentially say that he was the blackguard we were looking for,’ Reverend Shackleford commented as they finally left the inn behind. ‘But we’re still none the wiser about what the varmint is up to.’

‘Dae ye think noo ah nearly lost ma foot, ye can tell us wha’ bloody flumgummery yer involved in?’

‘You didn’t nearly lose your deuced foot,’ Reverend Shackleford retorted. ‘You’ve lost the nail on your big toe.’

‘Aye, but it couldhae bin the end o’ me. Ye could hae bin puttin’ me in a box right noo.’

‘I agree with Dougal, Sir,’ Percy interrupted. ‘We cannot be expected to risk our lives for a cause we have no knowledge of.’

The Reverend sighed. The days were long gone when his curate hung on his every word and blindly followed his every edict. In fact, these days, Percy was more the reverend than he was.

‘I do think we should tell them, Grandpapa.’ Roseanna’s voice was quiet, but resolved, clearly stating her position on the matter. If he didn’t enlighten them, then she would.

It actually took until they turned onto the Blackmore road for the Reverend to tell the complete story – mainly because everyone kept interrupting. ‘I truly have no idea what will happen now,’ the clergyman finished. ‘Rosie and I will report back to the Duke. I will, of course, tell him that I’ve broken his confidence, but I th…’

‘… You didn’t Grandpapa, we did,’ Roseanna interrupted firmly.

The clergyman nodded, his eyes unexpectedly filling with tears. ‘In the circumstances, I believe we have done the right thing.’

‘Be there any treasure?’ Finn blurted as the barouche stopped outside the vicarage.

By the time Rosie climbed out of the carriage, she felt as if she’d been hung out to dry. She asked Thomas to continue on to the stables, thinking to give Trixie time to do her business before looking for her uncle. She felt as though she’d been away for hours and hours, though in truth, it was less than four. When they left, the Comte was still at the inn. She didn’t know how much he’d seen or heard, but she knew one of his henchmen would likely recognise her if he saw her again. Still, there was nothing she could do about that now.

Picking up the little dog, she went first to the kitchen to ask Mrs Higgins if she had any leftovers for Trixie’s dinner. To her surprise, the kitchen was chaotic. Standing at the entrance, Rosie frowned, watching the staff running around. There was an underlying sense of panic. Clearly, something had happened since she left after lunch.

After a few minutes, Mrs Higgins caught sight of her. ‘Why are you here, milady? Shouldn’t you be at the meeting?’

Roseanna felt an uncomfortable sense of isolation. ‘I’ve been out for the afternoon, Mrs Higgins, so I’m afraid I’m a little behind. What meeting is that?’

‘Why, the one to discuss the news, milady. The whole family will be there.’

‘And what news would that be?’

The head cook looked at her as though she was addled, then shook her head and went to get Trixie some scraps for her dinner. Seconds later, the matron handed them over and touched Rosie’s arm. ‘Get yourself to the large drawing room as soon as you can, milady. The King is coming to Blackmore tomorrow.’

Roseanna felt unaccountably nervous as she knocked on the door to the large drawing room. Initially, she thought it hadn’t been heard, but after about half a minute, the door was pulled open. ‘Roseanna Atwood, you be surely a sight fer sore eyes.’ Malcolm stepped forward and pulled her into the room.

Blinking, Rosie looked round. After a few seconds, she realised the whole family was in the room. Every adult member. The only two missing were her grandparents. And of course, Dougal Galbraith.

Completely unaccustomed to being the centre of attention, Roseanna stepped back, clutching Trixie to her, just as another knock sounded. Seconds later, she stared incredulously as the old Scot was ushered into the room.

‘I think that’s everyone,’ Nicholas declared as the door shut. ‘I will fill Augustus and Agnes in later.’

‘Thank you for coming. I know it wasn’t too onerous since you were all in the house anyway, but still…’ He paused, giving a dark chuckle. Grace took his hand as he continued. ‘Some of you might be aware that I’ve been a little distracted since you all arrived for this year’s garden party. You can rest assured that I’ve had good reason.’ He paused again as Malcolm handed him a brandy, then gave a rueful laugh. ‘I hope you’ve all got a drink of some description, because believe me ladies and gentlemen, you’re going to need it…’

It took the Duke around twenty minutes to describe the events of the last week. Roseanna noted that he went into very little about the Revisionists , only that the group existed, and the Comte was suspected to be their leader. When he spoke about Tristan Bernart’s real reason for being at Blackmore, Rosie felt a ridiculous sense of pride as she watched him step forward and incline his head.

‘And now, to add another level of farce to this already preposterous tale, if you’re not already aware, King William will be arriving on the morrow. So, not only will we have the suspected leader of a group of conspiracists and two warring politicians on opposite sides of the Reform Bill in residence this weekend, but Royalty as well.’

The resulting silence was deafening. There couldn’t have been a person in the room who wasn’t aware of the disaster they were teetering on.

It was Dougal Galbraith who spoke first. ‘Well, laddie, ah hae tae admit, ah can totally understand why ye wanted me oot o’ the way.’

Roseanna went to put Trixie in her bedchamber after the meeting, even though she knew her parents and sister would be waiting to speak with her. In truth, she felt so far out of her depth; she was in grave danger of drowning. Her life up to now had been sheltered – she was only now realising just how much. Intrigue had played no part unless it had been on the stage and now, here she was, neck deep in it. Sighing, she put Trixie down on the floor and fed her the scraps Mrs Higgins had given her. Her uncle had asked to see her as soon as was convenient. She gave a dark chuckle. Doubtless, he wasn’t expecting her to report anything much at all. She rummaged around in her reticule for the sheet of paper she’d found in the dogcart. There had been no time to even look at it, and in all honesty, she’d almost forgotten she had it. Seating herself on the bed, she unfolded the sheet and found herself looking at a detailed plan of Blackmore.

‘Did I tell them enough?’

‘Aye, yer grace. I dinnae think pouring oil ontae an already volatile situation is likely to help any.’ Malcolm sighed as he sat down on the other side of the desk. ‘In fairness, they reacted well to what ye did tell them.’

‘Well, it’s not as if the family is entirely unused to dealing with unbelievable situations,’ Nicholas responded drily.

Malcolm chuckled. ‘I cannae argue with ye there, Nick.’

The two men were alone in the Duke’s study, which was rapidly becoming the hub of operations . There had still been no word of the Comte’s arrival and the sense of doom that had plagued Nicholas ever since he’d agreed to dupe d’Ansouis was beginning to reach epic proportions. In truth, he’d been a fool to get involved, but the original plan had been simple enough. He just hadn’t foreseen how events would spiral out of control, though clearly, he should have done.

Still, regrets were useless. The past could not be changed, and he had to play the hand he’d been dealt. But never had his responsibilities weighed so heavily.

‘Dinnae berate yerself, laddie,’ Malcolm murmured. His comment elicited a wan smile. The Scot knew him almost better than anyone.

‘I shou…’ the Duke’s response was cut short by a knock on the door. ‘Come,’ he shouted instead.

Roseanna stepped nervously into the room, wondering if she’d ever become comfortable in her stern uncle’s presence.

Nevertheless, moments later, she forgot her anxiety as she related the events of the afternoon. Indeed, watching the Duke’s and Malcolm’s faces become more and more incredulous, she actually fought the urge to giggle. It had all been so surreal and felt even more so now. In fairness, she was careful to make light of the fear she’d felt at being spotted in the inn’s yard.

‘In truth, if they are servants here, I cannot fathom how they managed to absent themselves for so long. However, I’m certain I would recognise the man by the cart if I saw him again…’ She paused before adding, ‘Naturally, I’m concerned that he will also recognise me.’

‘I doubt he’d recognise ye if he saw ye here, lass,’ Malcolm reassured her. ‘In my experience, people see what they expect tae see. Finn’s interference made ye into a young Scottish lass who’s a little simple – and that’s how he’ll remember ye. So, what did this varmint look like?’

‘He had grey hair, tied back with some string. His face was pasty, a little like uncooked dough, and his eyes were small and set deep. He had a paunch, and his shirt was clearly too tight.’ She paused, thinking for a second. ‘It didn’t look particularly clean either, and neither did his breeches.’ She turned to the Duke. ‘Now I come to think about it, there was a peculiar smell about him. It was in the cart too, though I only smelt it very faintly when I nearly fell in.’

‘He sounds very prepossessing,’ the Duke murmured drily. ‘If he looked so slovenly, it’s unlikely he’s employed in the house. I think perhaps we should concentrate our search on the outside staff. I’ll circulate his particulars to the others.’

‘Do you want me to look for him?’ Roseanna asked.

The Duke shook his head. ‘Keep an eye out for him, certainly, and if you do happen to spot him, then please tell me or Malcolm immediately. But whatever you do, please don’t go searching for him.’

Malcolm nodded in agreement. ‘Ye mustnae put yerself in harm’s way lass – any more than you have already at least. Yer father will string us up himself should any hurt come tae ye. Now, what did ye find in the cart?’

In answer, Rosie opened the piece of paper and laid it on the desk.

The Duke frowned, picking it up. ‘It’s a plan of Blackmore,’ he stated flatly after a few seconds.

‘I think it’s important to them,’ Rosie responded. ‘Grandpapa, Percy and Dougal all heard the Comte shouting at the two men about something, and I think the reason may well have been the loss of this.’ She looked between the two men. ‘Could they have been looking for it when I overheard them?’

Nicholas looked down at the plan. ‘Well, if they were, this isn’t it. This one is crude at best and there are several errors.’ He handed the sheet to Malcolm and climbed to his feet, going over to a large cupboard. ‘This is always kept locked when I’m not in the room,’ he said, pulling open both doors. ‘And the lock is new. Only the very best rum dubber would stand any chance of picking it.’ He pulled out a rolled-up sheaf of papers, adding, ‘and possibly Patience.’

Returning to the table with the bundle under his arm, Nicholas caught sight of his niece’s baffled look. He gave a soft laugh as he spread the sheets out on the desk. ‘Your Aunt Patience has quite a few less than ladylike skills, Rosie. When all this is over, I heartily recommend you ask her about them.’

‘She’ll nae thank ye fer bringing that up,’ Malcolm warned.

‘I know,’ Nicholas responded, losing his grim expression for a few seconds. To Rosie, it made him seem infinitely more approachable. She looked over at the sheet on the top of the pile he’d laid out. ‘These are the original detailed plans. They could well be what the thieves were looking for. The question is, why?’

‘Well, if they’re looking tae murder occupants in their beds, they’d need more than just a plan o’ the house.’

‘They’d need to know which room their victim or victims are in.’

‘But surely one without the other is useless to them?’ Roseanna countered.

‘They’d need both,’ Malcolm clarified.

‘We have to assume d’Ansouis is already in possession of the list of guests and their proposed rooms,’ Nicholas bit out, ‘so he knows Wellington and Grey will be here.’

‘He’ll be cock-a-hoop when he finds out the King is coming,’ Malcolm growled.

‘God’s teeth,’ Nicholas swore, ‘Somehow, we’re going to have to root out these damned traitors before the King gets here. D’Ansouis will hang for this, if I have to do it myself.’

‘I think ye need to send a message tae Chapman,’ Malcolm declared. ‘He and his men more than proved themselves when we were at Caerlaverock. If we cannae apprehend these bastards – my apologies Rosie – before Wellington and Grey’s arrival, at the very least they’ll need extra protection. I’m assuming the King will have his own guards.’

‘Chapman already has his men on standby,’ Nicholas returned, ‘and I don’t think we can assume anything at this stage. Making assumptions is part of the reason we’re in this deuced mess.’

‘We no longer have the luxury of playing the long game,’ he continued. ‘Tristan will need to show his hand as soon as he can do so without arousing suspicion. Whether we like it or not, things will come to a head at Blackmore.’

‘They’re going to need another plan of the house, though,’ Malcolm warned, so we need to search every room . Likely someone here made this one, and while it may not be completely accurate, it’s close enough.

Both men were now ignoring Rosie, and she was entirely content for them to do so. Indeed, she found their conversation terrifying and wanted nothing more than to take to her bed and stay there until it was all over. She was just wondering how to excuse herself when a knock sounded on the door. Seconds later, Boscastle informed his grace that the Comte d’Ansouis had arrived.