And now with the Duke not returned for five minutes and he and Grace already at cross purposes, she was very worried indeed about the possible effect their estrangement may have on her sisters’ admittedly already meagre chances at matrimonial happiness.
Grace rested her head wearily against her bedchamber door. She felt truly sick. What in God’s name was she going to do?
∞∞∞
“Augustus, please can you put a stop to that infernal shrieking and barking. I think my head is in grave danger of splitting in two… Oh, and please ask Grace to fetch my salts.”
“Yes dear.” The Reverend’s response to his wife’s plaintive was vague at best. Indeed, it was probable he didn’t hear any of it. He was currently busy drafting a letter to a few prospective candidates for his eldest daughter’s hand in marriage. Unfortunately, it wasn’t going well.
Percy’s list was best described as meagre. In fact, there were only three bachelors living within the county who could be considered a catch of any description, and none of them was likely to provide enough blunt to make a meaningful contribution to his son’s future.
Eventually the noise reached even his unsensitive ears, and that, accompanied by his wife’s wailing, caused him to finally frown and put down his pen.
“What the deuce is going on? DOWN FREDDY,” he roared, as the dog began capering around him in excitement.
“Faith Augustus, your voice is going to put me in an early grave I swear.” The Reverend refrained from adding an “Amen,” to his wife’s sentiment and strode over to the door.
“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 any hair 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 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 appropriately 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 well overdue.
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 a summons to attend the Duke in his study at ten am on the morrow. He wasn’t unduly worried but simply assumed 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 prized out 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
