Page 26 of To Hunt the Hunter

“Now, now, Pippin. No histrionics, I beg you.”

Pippin sniffed, blinking hard, and brought herself firmly under control, her shoulders stiffening. She nodded, her expression brisk.

“Histrionics indeed,” she said indignantly. “I should think not. Now mind out of the way, if you please, Miss Hunt, and let me see what’s to be done.”

“Phoebe,” he said, pleading in his eyes now as he looked to Matilda.

“Of course.” She nodded, unable to refuse him, though she did not want to leave. “Where will she be?”

“Can you find your way to the Long Gallery?”

“I think so.”

“Stand by my portrait, the one by Lawrence. Call out to her. She’ll come.”

His voice was strained, breathless, and his face was a ghastly shade, too pale. Matilda stared at him, not wanting to leave.

“Please.”

He closed his eyes.

“Very well.”

Matilda got to her knees again, swiftly now, leaning in and pressing her mouth to his, not caring a damn that Mrs Appleton and whoever else was in the room could see.

Lucian sighed, a slight smile lingering at his lips.

“I needed that,” he said, as she drew back, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“I’ll be as quick as I can,” she promised, and squeezed his hand tightly before running to find Phoebe.

***

To Matilda’s frustration, she took two wrong turns before she finally stumbled upon the Long Gallery. She stood before the disdainful regard of generations of Barringtons and held the lamp aloft. Lucian’s cool silver eyes glinted down at her from his portrait.

“Phoebe!” she called into the darkness beyond the pool of lamplight. “Phoebe, love, it’s Matilda. It’s all right. You can come out now.”

There was a long silence and Matilda waited for a while before calling again.

“Phoebe!” A scratching sound made her pause, lamp aloft, holding her breath. “Phoebe?”

Matilda watched in astonishment as the huge portrait and the panelled wall it was fixed to swung open on silent hinges, and a pale, frightened face peered out.

“Matilda?”

She set down the lamp and hurried to the girl.

“Phoebe! Oh, thank goodness.”

Phoebe ran into her arms with a sob. “Is he all right? Is Uncle Theodore here? Did he hurt him?”

Matilda’s heart clenched, and she held Phoebe tightly. “No, he is not here, love. You’re quite safe.”

Phoebe looked up at once.

“B-But Uncle Monty….” Her expression changed, horror in her eyes as she touched a finger to Matilda’s cheek. “Th-That’s b-blood.”

Matilda hesitated, wanting to pretend everything was fine but knowing how much store Lucian set by the truth, and how much Phoebe appreciated him for it.