Megs frowned. “I don’t know how you think we can save someone from dying. None of us could save Papa, could we? If it’s time for someone to die, God just takes them. That’s what Miss Mastin the rector’s sister told me.”
“We weren’t even there, silly,” Lissy said. “So we couldn’t have done anything. Forget that. It’s irrelevant. You have to try and remember Mama and Harry’s exact words. Think.”
Megs’ face crinkled in concentration and she screwed her eyes tight shut.
Lissy suppressed a sigh. Really, it was not a good thing to have to rely on such a baby.
Mims kicked her booted feet against the wall a bit more until Lissy put a hand on her knee and frowned. They waited.
Megs drew in a breath. “I was lying awake, waiting for Mims to wake up.” She drew in her lower lip over her teeth and huffed, eyes still firmly shut. “I heard Dick in the stables whistling. I like his whistling because he can do tunes. I wish I could.”
Mims opened her mouth to speak, but Lissy frowned again and shook her head.
Megs bit her lip. “I heard footsteps on the yard, and I thought it might be Dick only the whistling hadn’t stopped.” She was frowning in concentration. “The footsteps stopped by the front door and Mama spoke. She said…” She paused and licked her lips. “She said, ‘You are to say nothing’ in a whispery sort of voice.”
“And?” Lissy asked.
Lissy had to wonder if Megs was guilty of spinning this out in order to bask in the attention of her sisters. She was, after all, a child very given to wanting attention. Being the youngest probably didn’t help.
Megs frowned. “Then Mama dropped her voice to a sort of lower whisper and I couldn’t hear everything even though I got out of bed and went and stood beside the window because I wanted to listen.”
Mims nodded. “But what did you hear?”
Megs sighed. “Just a few words: ‘danger’, ‘tomorrow’, and ‘over and done with’.” She opened her eyes wide. “Then he said, ‘Tell them if I’m not dead.’”
Lissy fixed Megs with a hard stare. “If he’s not dead? So he didn’t say he’d be dead, he said he might not be. That doesn’t fit with what you told us before.”
Megs scowled at the open accusation. “It’s exactly the same. He said he’s going to be dead. And Mama said there’d be danger tomorrow.”
What a silly child Megs was. Lissy jumped down from the wall. “It’s totally different, you goose. It’s a threat of death because Mama said there’d be danger. He’s not sick or anything like that. There’s going to be some sort of danger tomorrow and he might get killed. He’s not going to die like Papa did. He’s going to be in danger tomorrow.”
“And Mama is letting him?” Megs asked, voice rising.
“Sounds like it,” Mims said.
Lissy put her hands on her hips. “We have to prevent this. We have to find out what it is and stop it. Mama is clearly in love with Harry and I’m certain he feels the same way about her. So we can’t let him be killed by this unknown danger. We have to do something before tomorrow morning and save him for Mama.” She fixed her sisters with her sternest expression. “Are we all agreed?”
“Agreed,” they chorused back and jumped down off the wall to join her. “But where do we start?” Megs asked.
Lissy squared her jaw. “At the Hall. What a good thing the weather’s improved. We’ll walk over there right now. Come on.”
Once back atthe Hall, Harry repaired to the study and closed the door. Now, in the cold light of day and out of Miranda’s intoxicating presence, he had to wonder at what he’d let himself in for. Not the marrying Miranda part of it, of course. That was something he needed no convincing of. But rather having allowed Sir Julian to firstly challenge him to a duel and then himself having agreed to it. Had he been the idiot Miranda seemed to think he was? Perhaps.
He sat down and considered the position in which he now found himself. He couldn’t deny having been more than carried away in the heat of the moment, as had Sir Julian. The fact that he and Miranda had finally declared their love for each other must have affected the way he’d been feeling. He was right. It had. It had made him feel invincible, something he’d felt before in battle when he’d seized the gun of a dead soldier and leapt to his feet to fire it at the approaching enemy. War had stirred his blood then, and now it appeared love could do that to you, as well, and make you feel as if anything was possible. Walking home alone, unsurprisingly that feeling had dissipated just a little and realization had settled upon him.
Perhaps Sir Julian, who was nurturing a long-held desire to add the Windrush estate to his portfolio, or maybe imagined he was really in love with Miranda, had been feeling similarly buoyed up by love. He’d certainly been irate to find Miranda in the arms of another man, but that might have been materialistic rather than romantic. Had all that guff he’d spun about being asked to take care of her even been true? Was the man so mad he’d imagined it all? Possible.
Harry sighed and leaned back in his chair. What was he worrying for? He was an excellent shot. Not that he intended to try to wound Sir Julian. Not now, anyway. In the heat of the moment he’d been up for shooting the man between the eyes. But duels were illegal and although they were often ignored by the courts, if one of the combatants were to die, there would at the very least be an enquiry. So he couldn’t in all conscience set out to kill the man.
That he still wanted to, at least just a little bit, disturbed him slightly. Wasn’t he a medical man sworn to preserve life? Not liking someone was no excuse for setting out to kill them, no matter how strong that dislike. Oh well, he must modify his intentions. Probably best to just delope, firing into the air instead of at the man. Most duels ended up like that with both protagonists professing themselves satisfied that honor had been upheld.
But now another thought occurred to him. He would need a second. Preferably two. And he knew no one. For a brief moment he considered asking the gentlemen he’d met last night, but they were Sir Julian’s friends, not his, and he hadn’t liked them much. If he’d still been in the army he could have asked a couple of fellow officers. Medics, of course, as apart from anything it would be useful to have someone present trained in medical matters other than himself. In case Sir Julian succeeded in scoring a hit.
Who could he possibly ask? For a few minutes he sat in deep thought before getting to his feet and ringing the bell.
Crawford arrived almost immediately, as though he might have been lurking outside in the hallway just waiting to be needed.
He bowed. “Sir Henry?”
