“Pish and tush, woman! Nothing of the sort!”
“You may say so, my lady, but I will not readily forget the turn it gave me when the fellows carried you in. Thank the Lord I had all in readiness and we were able to put you to bed and I sent young Sally for Doctor Hayter straight.”
“Utterly ridiculous! What mattered it when my niece was missing?”
“It was quite a time before I knew, my lady, as I’ve told you a dozen times.” She turned back to Delia. “I confess I dallied too long, even when I found it out, for I knew not what to do for the best. But Doctor Hayter suggested the militia and I sent to them by Scoley.”
“We set out at once, ma’am,” Captain Rhoades assured her great-aunt, “but it seems we had been forestalled by the rector here.”
Delia was once again obliged to repeat the story concocted by the Reverend Gaunt, which provoked so much exclamation and comment that she could not but wonder what would have been said did her aunt and Peggy know the truth. She was relieved when the maid went off to fetch the Madeira, and she was able to turn the subject. “But what of you, Aunt Gertrude? What did the doctor say?”
“Oh, he insists upon my resting for a week, but I shall do no such thing. A day or two will see me right again.”
“But does it not pain you?”
The redoubtable dame waved a dismissive hand. “Not now, for Hayter gave me one of his ghastly doses. But it did the trick. I had the devil of a head when I woke, I admit, and I could not remember how I came by it until Scoley told me. And that wretch took my pistol! Now I shall have to procure another.”
A burst of laughter from the Reverend Gaunt drowned Delia’s half-formed protest. “As resilient as your niece, ma’am, if I may say so. Miss Burloyne told me you threatened the ruffians with a pistol.”
A twitch disturbed the corner of Aunt Gertrude’s mouth and her eyes twinkled. “A mistake, I admit. But I’ve never been one to play the helpless female. Pathetic, squeamish things they are now. We were more robust in my day.”
“Very true, ma’am. Ladies are indeed more delicate in these times.”
But Delia received a comical lift of the eyebrows and a conspiratorial look from the rector as he spoke, which very nearly sent her into an unseemly fit of the giggles.Delicate? If Aunt only knew!
“However, I can’t think where I shall get a new pistol in Weymouth,” she went on, unheeding. “I shall have to send to Manton’s. I cannot be without one. A pox on the thieving wretch! I shall give him a piece of my mind when he is caught.”
A pox on him indeed! Realisation quenched Delia’s urge to laugh. That vile Sam must have made use of Aunt Gertrude’s pistol. He can’t have had time to reload his own. How horrible that he’d shot Giff with that very weapon! Ironic indeed to find her aunt had inadvertently provided the means for Delia’s rescuer to be injured.
The agitation induced by this thought rendered her tongue-tied. If only she might retire. Yet if she did, she would lose contact with the rector, her only connection with Giff.
Lady Matterson turned her attention to Captain Rhoades. “I hope you mean to lay those fellows by the heels, sir?”
The officer cleared his throat. “I trust we may, my lady, though there was no sign of them in the area where we were searching. Miss Burloyne has provided a description, however, and we will do our damn —” He broke off, reddening. “I mean, we will put forth our best endeavours.”
“Well, with a whole garrison of soldiers at your disposal, you may do so.”
A positive battery of throat clearing followed this. “I regret, my lady, it is not in my power to request assistance from the regular army. And there is only the cavalry now. The bulk of our soldiery is in the Bexhill camp.”
Lady Matterson was having none of this. “Even better. Cavalry may cover more ground. It is not as if they have anything better to do until that monster Napoleon attempts to invade, which he won’t. The Admiral will keep him out, you’ll see.”
“I sincerely trust he may, my lady, but whether or not Lord Nelson’s fleet is at hand, I regret the cavalry are not mine to command.”
“Pish and tush, man! Then I shall send to their commanding officer myself!”
Delia could not but be relieved that Miss Pegler chose this moment to re-enter with a tray, conveniently deflecting Aunt Gertrude’s attention as she directed the serving of wine to the company. Lady Matterson was ever precise in the social niceties, and she abandoned the argument in favour of responding to the rector, who seized the chance to change the subject.
“Is His Majesty expected this season, do you know, ma’am?”
“I have not yet had time to ascertain the general opinion, but I confess I am not sanguine. The reports of his health are worrying.”
Thankful for the deflection, Delia settled to her wine, her mind drifting away from King George’s possible attendance at his favoured watering place and back to a little room in the rectory at Stepleton.
Had Giff yet woken? Would he wonder at her absence when he did? Would he even remember?
A deep voice cut into Giff’s dream, dragging him from sleep.
“Wake, sahib! You must wake!”