Page 20 of The Case of the Curate

“Certainly,” Rupert replied. “When would be convenient for you?”

“Why, now, if you have the time,” Remington said.

Kate held her breath, though she couldn’t quite grasp the cause of her anxiety.

Rupert shrugged. “Why not? I have a family to visit in that direction this afternoon—tenants of yours, I believe.”

“Hop in, then,” Remington said genially, opening the carriage door. “Lady Ambrose, forgive me for stealing your escort.”

Kate laughed, the slightly foolish one she had cultivated for her come-out that had never happened. “Not at all, sir! The matter is easily resolved.”

She thrust out her hand to Rupert, whose eyes began to dance, almost like the old Rupert of childhood. While Remington’s mouth opened and closed like a surprised fish’s, Rupert handed her up into the coach and leapt in after her.

Remington had to shuffle up the bench to make space for her, while Rupert lounged on the one opposite with his back to the horses. The magistrate was frowning—this clearly wasn’t the arrangement he had wanted—but he could think of no civil way to be rid of her.

The horses had already begun to pull forward when he said testily, “I’m sure Lady Chadbon will miss you.”

“Oh, not until teatime,” Kate said. She smiled brilliantly at him, and his eyes widened.

“Well, well,” he muttered, “I daresay my wife will be glad of the company.”

On the opposite bench, Rupert smiled sleepily, and yet his eyes still twinkled. If he sensed danger, he gave no sign of it.

Kate whiled away the journey in conversation with Mr. Remington.

“Have you always been the magistrate here, sir?”

“Since my father died. He was magistrate before me, and my grandfather before him. My family has always taken its public duties seriously. My grandfather even installed a prison cell in the basement of the house to keep the miscreants who appeared before him under lock and key. It’s still made use of occasionally—usually on a Saturday night, or market day.”

“Does your wife not object to such creatures about the house?”

Remington smiled indulgently. “Bless you, no. They are kept quite separate from my family, who never even know they are there. And it saves the parish the expense of a gaol.”

“But what of serious crime? Like last night’s murder?”

Remington shifted his shoulder, unhappy to be reminded of that particular reality. “Then the accused would be bound over for the assizes and sent to the gaol in Maidstone pending his trial.”

“And this arrangement is convenient for you?” Ahead of them, on the open country road now, was another carriage. It took the left-hand fork in the road. So did Remington’s horses.

“Indeed,” the magistrate replied. A few moments of silence ensued. Then, “Ah, here are the gates to Oak Manor. The posts have been there since the fifteenth century, you know. Not grand by Chadbon standards, perhaps, but the Remingtons were here even before they were, and not so long after the Carvers…”

In this case, Kate thought with alarm, Chadbon was ahead of him. She was sure that was His Lordship’s carriage she saw being walked out of sight around the side of the solid manor house, just as the magistrate’s vehicle drew to a halt at the front door.

An unliveried servant ran from the house to open the carriage door. The magistrate lumbered down the steps and gallantly gave his hand to Kate. When she had descended, he patted her hand and placed it on his arm.

She wanted to scream, “Run, Rupert!” But of course she couldn’t. And shouldn’t. She was his only protection, and just as she’d feared, it was Remington’s intention to banish her.

“Show Lady Ambrose up to Mrs. Remington in the drawing room,” he instructed the servant, “and have tea brought up…”

Kate’s stomach dived.

“Mrs. Remington isn’t at home, sir,” the servant said. “She and Miss Cora went to the market and to have tea at the vicarage.”

Remington scowled and flapped a hand, clearly flustered. “Drat the—”

“No matter,” Kate said brightly, tightening her grip on the magistrate’s arm. “I am just as happy in gentlemen’s company. I have grown used to it since my marriage.”

For an instant, Remington stood still, apparently undecided on what to do. Then some movement toward the darker back of the hall caught Kate’s attention. Lord Chadbon stood there among the shadows.