coachman, elated by his first appearance on the boards, made a long speech about the life of a coachman, the guard told him not to be such an old windbag, the coachman threw up his fists and said he would draw his cork, and Lord Harley, briefly dropping his role of fop, had to separate them. Hannah Pym, remembering the deception of that under-butler, began to berate Captain Seaton in very convincing tones and with such fire and passion that the landlord leaped to his feet and shouted, ‘Huzzah!’
Mrs Bradley then burst into speech, telling the company how she had nursed Lady Gwendoline from a babe. The short play began to show alarming signs of running as long as any Haymarket tragedy.
Captain Seaton made a good villain. He had placed a black patch over one eye and leered and cursed with great aplomb. ‘You will return with me,’ he roared, brandishing the gun. Mr Burridge slipped ‘off-stage’, ready to fire his own gun harmlessly out of the coffee-room window into the snow to make it sound as if the captain had actually fired his own.
Emily looked at the captain in startled amazement. Why would no one keep to the script? Instead of pointing the gun at herself and her ‘mother’, he was pointing it straight at Mr Fletcher.
‘I will kill you all,’ he snarled. Hannah was also watching. In a flash, as Captain Seaton pressed the trigger, Hannah seized a heavy pewter tray and held it up in front of Mr Fletcher. There was a deafening report and Hannah’s hands jerked as a bullet struck the tray and ricocheted off it to bury itself harmlessly in a beam in the ceiling of the coffee room.
Lord Harley snatched the gun from Captain Seaton and muttered, ‘Get to your room. I shall speak to you shortly.’
‘But I didn’t know,’ blustered the captain. ‘Someone’s playing a sore trick on me.’
‘Go!’ ordered Lord Harley, and Captain Seaton went. Lord Harley said to Hannah, ‘Are you all right?’
Hannah nodded, her eyes dancing. ‘Another adventure,’ she hissed. ‘Go on with the play.’
The others seemed so stage-struck, so determined to play their parts, that Hannah was sure very few of them had noticed the shooting. Mr Fletcher made his speech about the forged will. Lizzie curtsied and thanked him most affectingly, and then Mr Fletcher startled everyone by stepping out of his role and clasping Lizzie to his bosom. They stood like that, gazing into each other’s eyes, until Hannah coughed loudly and the couple broke apart.
Lizzie turned to Brave Jack. ‘And to you, sir,’ she said, leading Emily forward, ‘I give my daughter.’
Lord Harley smiled down into Emily’s suddenly frightened eyes. ‘Forgot it was me, didn’t you?’ he whispered. He took her in his arms and kissed her, quick and hard, on the lips. The cast applauded themselves, and the landlord and his wife applauded the cast. Emily was shaken. That kiss had burnt, had branded, had caused an upheaval of her senses. Then she recollected that shot. She clutched Lord Harley’s sleeve. ‘What are we to do about Captain Seaton? He tried to murder poor Mr Fletcher.’
‘Keep your voice down,’ he whispered fiercely. ‘We do not want to alarm the others. Miss Pym knows, but she is keeping quiet.’
Lord Harley went quickly up the stairs to where the captain was sitting sulkily on his unmade bed.
‘Well, Seaton?’ demanded Lord Harley, ‘What have you to say for yourself?’
‘I do not know what happened, my lord,’ said the captain truculently, ‘and that’s the truth. I practised with that gun before dinner and Mr Burridge agreed to fire his own out of the coffee-room window. My gun was not loaded, I swear.’
Lord Harley looked at him with loathing. ‘You have brought this on yourself. You will leave Mrs Bisley and Mr Fletcher alone, do you hear? If you so much as approach either one of them again, I will shoot you myself.’
Captain Seaton got to his feet, his fists swinging. ‘And I am going to teach you a lesson, me fine buck.’
He lunged at Lord Harley, who dodged the blow and then struck Captain Seaton a smashing punch on the chin with his full weight behind it. The captain fell backwards on the bed.
‘I will say it once more,’ said Lord Harley. ‘Do not go near either Fletcher or Mrs Bisley again, or it will be the worse for you.’ And, nursing his bruised knuckles, he made his way downstairs.
He found Hannah in the kitchen. The rest were still in the coffee room celebrating the success of the play.
‘Did you talk to the captain?’ asked Hannah.
‘Yes,’ he said, rubbing his knuckles. ‘What a nasty fool that man is. How could he hope to get away with it?’
‘It might have been hard to prove murder,’ said Hannah. ‘All he had to do was swear he did not know the gun was primed.’
‘We must keep a close watch on the captain. What are you doing now?’
‘I am preparing a cold collation for supper.’
‘You appear to have been deserted by your helpers.’
‘Leave them for the moment,’ said Hannah. ‘I think, however, that we should keep them busy with amusements. If all they are going to do is sit around the coffee-room fire and drink, quarrels are bound to arise. Satan will always find mischief for idle hands.’
‘Then let us confound Satan. What do you suggest?’
Hannah wrinkled her brow and pulled her nose. ‘Charades might cause more ructions. I have it! Hunt the slipper.’
‘I do not see how anyone can try to murder anyone playing that,’ said Lord Harley with a grin.
He retreated to the coffee room, where his suggestion was greeted with cries of delight. ‘What will be the prize?’ asked Old Tom, the coachman.
‘No household duties tomorrow,’ said Lord Harley promptly.
‘The only one who cannot play,’ pointed out Emily, ‘is the one that hides the slipper.’
‘Then let me do it,’ offered the landlord. ‘I can hide it somewheres where I swear none of you will find it.’
Only Captain Seaton, who had rejoined the group, grumbled it was all tomfoolery.
It was decided to use one of the ladies’ slippers, so Lizzie ran upstairs and came back with a pretty red- leather beaded slipper, and handed it to the landlord. He told them to give him half an hour and disappeared.
Captain Seaton sidled up to Lizzie when Lord Harley’s back was turned to him. ‘You’ve been avoiding me,’ he said. ‘You know you are promised to me and a lady never breaks a promise.’
The laughter died out of Lizzie’s face. ‘We will discuss it some other time,’ she said hurriedly and moved away to talk to Mr Hendry, the shabby gentleman who had been one of the two outside passengers.
Emily noticed that even Mr Hendry had a tender look on his face as he talked to Lizzie. He was well enough in his way, she thought, plain and honest-looking and simply dressed and younger than Mr Fletcher, but Emily had set her mind on making a match of it for Lizzie and Mr Fletcher.
The captain waited until they were all busy talking to whisper to Mr Fletcher, ‘You just watch it, you popinjay. Mrs Bisley is going to marry me and so she says, so stop sniffing around her, you churl.’
‘Odd’s fish!’ cried Mr Fletcher, enraged. ‘Cannot you see the lady would like to have none of you?’
‘What’s going on there?’ demanded Lord Harley sharply, and the captain moved away from Mr Fletcher.
The landlord eventually reappeared, rubbing his hands. ‘You’ll never find it,’ he said. ‘Reckon Miss Pym’ll have all her helpers on the morrow.’
They all rushed off to search the rooms. Only Lizzie hesitated. She would have liked to play the game with Mr Fletcher, but felt that by doing so she might be putting Mr Fletcher’s life at risk. The captain had looked so menacing when he had been talking to him. She went off with the delighted Mr Hendry. Emily had somehow expected Lord Harley to pair off with her, but he had gone off with the coachman. She started to search in a half- hearted way and then with more enthusiasm. It was such a small slipper, it could be anywhere. She even took down pint-sized pewter mugs from their hooks in the taproom and looked inside. It was hard work searching. There were so many nooks and crannies in the inn. Then she decided to try her own bedchamber. She turned everything over and looked under the bed and under the blankets, but there was no sign of the slipper. She was very tired. Bursts of laughter from various parts of the inn showed the others were showing no signs of flagging. Emily decided to lie down for just a little. Ten minutes’ rest was all she needed. She lay down on the top of the covers. Her eyes closed almost immediately, and soon she was fast asleep.
Hannah came in a quarter of an hour later and stood in the doorway, looking at the sleeping Emily. She looked very beautiful and innocent in sleep, thought Hannah. Hannah still nursed hopes of a match between Lord Harley and Emily. She turned quickly and went downstairs and searched about, not for the slipper, but for Lord
