Captain Jones's Temptation - Audrey Harrison Page 0,27

Out of curiosity, have you ever fired a rifle?”

“Now that you come to mention it, no, I have not. I presume it is just point and shoot, isn’t it?” Esther said airily. She was forcing her desolation away; she could not repine at the moment. When everything was settled she could allow herself to wallow a little, but not now.

“Something like that,” Samuel groaned. “You, Miss Hardy, will be the death of me.”

“Oh, do not fear. I shan’t be pointing the gun in your direction. Unless you annoy me, of course.”

“In that case I had better make sure my will is in order.”

“Perhaps that would be for the best, if the last few weeks are anything to go by.”

*

By the end of the week, everything had changed. None of the children remained, families having arrived to take them away so they would not catch the very “infectious illness” they had been told about. Staff had been sent on holiday, but a few remained. Some of the footmen who had been willing to stay were being trained with the old guns left over from when Esther’s uncle was in residence.

All the teachers had gone, only Misses Breacon and Callaghan resigning, but Lydia had insisted she was to stay. Esther had tried to persuade her to leave, after realising she had been selfish in wanting Lydia to remain close, but Esther was glad of her friend’s company.

The house seemed empty and too quiet without some form of noise in the background. Esther was not one for allowing riotous behaviour, but she did encourage laughter and chatter when it was appropriate. That was gone now; everyone was more likely to be serious than filled with laughter, and she missed the sound.

Esther had been reassuring, charming and apologetic with every family who had arrived for their child. She had managed to persuade them that everything was well, the early release was only a precaution, and that everything was as it should be. She found every interview taxing and could only hope that they would believe her words and return to the school when she reopened.

Rooms on the ground floor had been changed. Esther had worked with the two captains and the footmen in securing the windows so they could not be opened without being smashed. They also pushed large pieces of furniture in front of the windows as a deterrent to anyone trying to break in to the house.

“If anyone is going to enter this house, they are coming in one of only a few ways,” Matthew said when an internal door was locked on yet another room.

“I feel all they will need to do is set one entrance on fire and we will be trapped,” Esther said.

“That will not happen, I assure you. There is more than one entrance and exit for us. I hope to be able to confuse them enough that we can get Isabella away if needed.”

The problem of what to do with Isabella was discussed one evening when the four sat at the small dining room table. The windows had been boarded up, but when the curtains were closed it almost looked as if nothing were amiss. Isabella played as she always did, content with her own company, a possible reflection of having to be self-sufficient in her previous life. Dawson served as always. Formality slipped a little between above and below stairs during the day, when preparations were in full swing, but in the evening the normal order resumed.

“Our former colleague Miles Longdon will provide safe sanctuary if we need to leave this house,” Samuel said.

“Where does he live?”

“Hampshire. A place called Barrowfoot House. You will be safe there when the time is right to remove the child.”

“Are we to travel alone?” Esther asked.

Matthew smiled. “No. One of us will accompany you, but the other will remain behind. It is fortunate that in some turbulent time past, a tunnel was built between the basement and the stables. What dark secrets are in your family history, Miss Hardy? They obviously needed to make a quick escape at some point.”

“I am afraid I have no idea. It does lead one to imagine Gothic escapades, doesn’t it? It is quite reassuring to know that I am related in some way to an adventurous sort. Most of the time I am so wary of the unknown that I long for a simple life. It seems my ancestors were not as chicken-hearted as I am these days.”

Samuel took a drink of his wine.