Page 64 of The Case of the Curate

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Kate had plenty to think about on her way back to Chadbon Court in the rain. Talking about everything with Rupert had helped her see the subjects of her investigation more clearly, to think about it all in slightly different ways.

Yet, oddly enough, his sudden volte-face on informing Lord Winster was not the relief it should have been. Because she knew it was not what Rupert wanted. It was just what he regarded as safest for her, because he knew she would not let the matter drop. He did not seem to have realized that even once she’d written to Winster, she would carry on.

She had begun this largely for Rupert, but by this stage she could not let it go, whether Rupert walked free or not.

First thing tomorrow, she would write to the marquis—and hope the mail coach could get through where the Chadbons’ guests could not. She would have to word the letter very carefully.

And then she would call on Dr. Paxton and Remington to discover what or whom they had seen while out and about on Tuesday evening. And then she would ask a lot more questions of Kemp, Newman, and Otteridge.

She found she was glad of the rain. With luck, it would keep the road under water and the Chadbons’ guests at the court for another day. Which meant, hopefully, that Rupert would not be sent to a proper prison either. Though surely news of his incarceration by the magistrate could not be suppressed forever. It was bound to trickle out.

Almost to her surprise, she discovered Chadbon Court looming out of the rain. She had forgotten to shield her lantern.

Never mind. I have a perfect right to take the air in any weather I like. They already thought she was mad for riding this morning, after all. Nevertheless, she felt curiously exposed as she walked brazenly across the lawn toward the side door. She imagined the curtain moved at one of the ground-floor windows, that a dark, shadowy figure lurked there…

Hastily, she reached for the latch on the side door, but it didn’t budge. It had been locked.

Oh, drat you, Grissy! Are you asleep? It was not even very late.

Irritated, she stepped back and picked up a handful of pebbles from the gravel path, meaning to hurl them at her bedchamber window, which was at the front of the house. But as she bent, something exploded and she cried out in startlement.

At the same time, the lantern shattered.

Chapter Thirteen

For an instant of perfect silence, Kate stared through the sudden darkness at the broken lantern, as if it had somehow destroyed itself. Until understanding slammed into her, dragging fear and panic in its wake.

Exposed, blind, she darted useless glances all around, desperately searching for the shooter. Afraid to move, afraid to stay, she had no idea what to do.

And then the side door crashed open, and Kemp threw himself toward her. Fear surged up from her toes. A lady was always taught not to lash out, not to strike, and yet she knew that she would, to save her life, to punish what was done to Dinah. From some kind of instinct, she straightened, pulling back her shoulders.

“My lady?” Kemp said in amazement, his voice high with alarm. “What on earth…? What happened? Are you hurt?”

His lantern swung high, dazzling her for an instant. But her immediate fear was seeping away, for someone else barged outside behind the butler. The stately figure of Mr. Otteridge.

“Don’t be an ass, man!” he growled at Kemp. “Don’t you recognize a gunshot when you hear it? Get Her Ladyship inside immediately.”

Otteridge barged past Kemp, his eyes darting, as her own had done only seconds before, and thrust his arm behind her in a protective kind of a way. “Inside, my lady, immediately, I beg of you…”

Kate swept forward, as though obedient, yet avoiding the touch of his arm. Clarity, reality, was back, and yet she felt distant from the event she had just survived, as though it had happened to someone else.

Kemp, who had been first through the door, stood aside for her, his face pinched with worry. Unusual for him to display any emotion at all, but it could be an act. Why had he been hovering about the door?

And Otteridge, why was he around? At least with two of them escorting her through the wide passage to the main entrance hall, she felt safe.

She even said to Kemp, “I’m afraid the lantern shattered. There’s glass everywhere…” And was vaguely surprised by the steadiness of her own voice.

“I’ll see to that, my lady. Let me send for your maid—”

But Grissy, ignoring protocol, was running down the main staircase, wide-eyed and brick red with shame. Her hair was askew, so she had clearly been asleep only seconds before.

“Your mistress has had a fright,” Kemp said, disapproval clear in his voice, though whether at her failure to use the servants’ stairs or at allowing Kate to be outside alone was not clear. He indicated the nearest reception room. “Sit down in here until you feel more the thing, my lady. Perhaps a little brandy?”

“Actually, no,” Kate said. “Is His Lordship still up? I need to see him immediately.”

“I have orders not to disturb him, my lady,” Kemp said unhappily. “Since you are quite safe, perhaps the morning would be—”