Chapter 20
“My lady, my people ought to be moving back to the campsite,” said Woodlock, nervously to Imogen. “We have trespassed on your hospitality...”
“Nonsense,” said Imogen. “It was a most unpleasant upset, and moreover, it has been wet for days. We must have a covered hall associated with the cottages for old folk so you can camp there under a roof if need be.”
“We don’t need to be coddled,” said Woodlock.
“I look at your people and see a young mother who went into labour prematurely over the shock of the fire. I’ve had to get in a wet nurse from the village to help her feed her baby as her milk is insufficient. She birthed in a hurry and bled a lot because of it. I would have liked to have had her in the temporary hospital with Lementina, but her father bullied her into staying here in the ballroom with her husband, calling her weak for needing attention; and if he or you could manage to give birth, there would be no more generations because men could not handle the pain and stress of childbirth, and would refuse to have any more after the first so do not,” Imogen poked a finger into Woodlock’s waistcoat, “Talk about being coddled. You men can go and camp outside if you like but I have taken the responsibility for the women and children, and I will have constables arrest anyone who tries to take any of my patients away and that means you, too, Tobias Petulengro, you big bully, you can leave Million and her baby alone.”
“No woman speaks to me like that!” roared Tobias Petulengro, advancing on Imogen, his soot-encrusted, ham-like hands bunched.
“Toby! Have some sense!” cried Woodlock, well aware that attacking a pregnant noblewoman would get his smith hanged.
Imogen dropped down to grab him around the knees and pulled. Unable to get a grip on the polished floor, he went down on his back.
“This woman does,” said Imogen, setting her foot on his privates. “You’re an idiot, Petulengro, because I know how to keep your daughter and grandson alive, and you don’t, but you think that by intimidating me, you get to do what you please. Well, she isn’t in your tent any more; she’s in Jonah Grey’s tent as his wife, and he has some say, and in my house, so does she. So back off, and be a man not a beef-witted cauliflower-brained thumping machine.”
“And so help me, if I catch you even talking to the marchioness again, I will kill you,” snarled Woodlock. “Because if I kill you, maybe the marquis, who is a noted pugilist, shot, and swordsman, will maybe leave the rest of the men of the tribe alive. Believe me, if you touch Evelyn Finch’s wife, he will rage with the Finch rage which will only be assuaged by blood.”
“He’s right,” said Imogen. “My husband has the devil’s own temper if his own are touched, which is why Crowy Heron, if not already dead, is a walking dead man. I know you don’t like being cooped up here, but some of your tribe have suffered burns, and getting dirt into burns kills. And in the wet, avoiding mud is impossible. Those who feel ready to resume the camp are welcome to do so...” she broke off as Silas limped in.
“There’s some fat man down at the camp stabbing the tents with a big knife and swearing to kill all the gypsies and cut off the Finches root and branch. Who are the Finches?”
Imogen paled.
“That’s my husband’s family name,” she said. “Sit down, Silas, and get your head between your knees and get your breath back. Woodlock, find George, and tell him to get everyone inside, and lock all the doors. Get those ballroom doors shut, and close all of the shutters which are there to conserve heat. If that is who I fear, seeing you will inflame him to fury.”
“I’ll sort him out, lady,” said Petulengro, more co-operative in the face of a common threat.
“Good, I’ll need volunteers to take him in charge, but I don’t want to kill him if we can avoid it, but I want my maids and your womenfolk protected,” said Imogen. “Go with Woodlock, and anyone else prepared to fight, saving only the married men with children who will defend the tribe here.”
Imogen left the ballroom and went into the gun room. She used the key on her chatelaine to unlock a gun cabinet and removed two shotguns and a Baker rifle. She gave the shotguns to George and Woodlock, and took the rifle to the landing window over the front door.
She saw Eusebius Reckitt weaving his way almost as if drunk towards the front door, and opened the window, waiting for him to be within shouting range.
“Eusebius!” she called. “Stop right there! You need help, and you need to turn yourself in! Put your hands on your head and kneel and wait to be taken in charge!”
He did not do so, of course, and Imogen had never really expected him to do so. She recalled a soldier in the hospital her father had set up, who had had a bullet removed from where it had lodged in his skull, who had gone insane, and tried to kill all the other soldiers and nurses. He had been shot by a wounded officer, which had shocked Imogen, but she remembered the young officer’s words. A crazy man, like a mad dog, could not be reasoned with, and there came a point when stopping him being a danger to others was more important than caring for him.
Eusebius pointed a finger at her.
“You! You’re nothing but a whore and I’m going to kill you and your unborn brat and Finchbury and his bastards!” he cried. Imogen took aim but continued speaking.
“Did not our Lord say that whoever placed a stumbling block in the way of a child should be cast into the ocean with a millstone tied around his neck?” she asked, mildly, seeking for a shot to wound, not kill.
“They are not children! They are demons! Gypsy demons!” howled Eusebius.
There was, indeed, no reasoning with him. Imogen took aim and fired at his upraised pointing hand.
She took him in the forearm, and Eusebius fell over in shock. George and Woodlock ran out of the front door, but somehow, Eusebius stumbled to his feet and ran off.
“Don’t pursue, he is completely unhinged, and dangerous, do not approach him,” she ordered. “Get back in the house and lock the door.”
“There’s only one of him...” started Woodlock.
“With a madman’s cunning and hysteric strength,” said Imogen. “Get someone with sharp eyes onto the top of the old tower to keep a watch out,”
oOoOo
“We’ll go up the back to reach the house,” said Evelyn. “Past the church; Cornelius, do you want to stop and warn your father?”
“Not when we have Shuri and the boys with us, no,” said Cornelius. “It would be like Eusebius to hold Papa and make me give myself up, and he won’t stop with me. In fact, I suggest we all get down low on the floor as we come up the drive.”
“It sounds overly cautious, but... very well,” said Evelyn. He rapped on the sliding door to the coachman. “Drive in the back and go fast,” he said. “Keep your blunderbuss with you, and if you are threatened, for pity’s sake use it, don’t throw it down and jump down like a lamb to the slaughter.”
“Yes, my lord,” said the coachman, chastened since his pusillanimous behaviour before Fowk.
The passengers got down on the floor as the carriage swept through the village, to the surprise of Bess and Stumpy. Bess licked Evergreen’s face and Stumpy wagged his stumpy tail at this new game.
They were to be glad they had done so; as the coach swung into the back drive, there was a loud shout, and shortly after the report of some firearm, and the rattle of shot on the coach body. One of the windows broke and Jasper flinched as a piece of glass cut his cheek. The coach bowled on, and came round and into the stable yard, and came to a halt.
“Get the gate shut!” shouted Evelyn, jumping out. “Anyone hurt?”
“Not badly,” said Jasper. “Diw! Though if that piece had gone straight down into my head, I’d have been dead,” he added, soberly, picking up the offending shard of glass, which was some five inches long with a pointed end.
“Right, that’s it, every able bodied man in the house and grounds can consider himself deputised as a constable, and let Eusebius Reckitt be brought in dead or alive,” said Evelyn. “Check over our riding horses, he was shooting with a shotgun, check he didn’t hit either.” He ordered the stable hands, and then led the passengers in through the stable door, coming face to face with George and Woodlock with shotguns.
“You heard, then,” said Evelyn. “You’re both constables, everyone is a constable, and whatever it takes it takes.”
“Silas saw him stabbing the tents,” said Woodlock. “Silas is on the tower with a musket, your lady wife is at the front overporch window with a rifle, and we’ve closed the place to protect the women.”
“There’s no telling what the fellow will do,” said Evelyn. “But I want every bucket and tub filled with water, and spare blankets soaked as I have every expectation that he will attempt to burn us out. The rooms off the terrace are vulnerable so we’ll be posting guards there. We could chase him around for hours, and not get anywhere, because he is not acting rationally.”
“A couple of Rom trackers...” suggested Woodlock.
“Do you track mad dogs?” asked Evelyn.
“If a threat to our families? If we must,” said Woodlock.
A pair of small missiles hurtled in.
“Papa! Jasper!” cried Phebe.
“Ah, good, take Stumpy somewhere where you can nurse him, he has been kicked,” said Evelyn, dumping Stumpy’s basket in her arms. Phebe was best deflected with something to do.
“With your permission, I’ll take some of the lads and set up sundry snares,” said Woodlock. “If we ain’t tracking him, we know he’ll head back here, and we might as well make use of that to capture him.”
“So long as you remember that those big man-traps we have somewhere are not legal any more,” said Evelyn. Woodlock snorted.
“We’ll be a lot more subtle than that,” he said.
“Evelyn? Is that you?” Imogen’s voice called from upstairs.
“Yes, love, all back safely, and Corny gave us a lift,” called Evelyn.
It has to be said that Imogen sat down hard, and put her head between her knees. All back safely included Jasper; and indeed, Jasper found her thus when he ran upstairs looking for her, and gave her a fierce hug.
“Oh, Jasper! I am so glad to see you,” said Imogen.
“Crowy and two cousins of his are dead,” said Jasper. “I... I burned the house they were in.”
“Fitting enough considering they tried to do the same to Lementina,” said Imogen.
Jasper relaxed. He had been dreading telling her.
“Stay with me a while and help me keep watch,” said Imogen.
“Gladly,” agreed Jasper.
Mrs. Hudson found them both asleep, and tutted. On the tower, Silas, Hesilla, and Evergreen were taking turns to watch, which made more sense, so Mrs. Hudson covered the sleepers with quilts and slipped pillows under their heads and demanded that Evelyn find some people able to use ‘that dratted rifle’ to take their place. Evelyn joined his wife and son with the taciturn Toby Petulengro, who had decided that any woman who could best him was worthy of respect and needed his support. Not knowing of the contretemps, Evelyn merely welcomed someone not overcome with the fatigue of being active for days on end, as he said.
“Rest. I watch,” said Petulengro. He did not say that he also respected a man who would kill Crowy Heron and his cousins; whatever the official story, the Lovell tribe believed that Evelyn had killed them. He would have no more trouble at all from this tribe.
Evelyn did as he was bid. He came awake like a cat as Petulengro blew in his ear. It was dark.
“Heard gravel,” Petulengro murmured right by his ear.
Evelyn was alert immediately, peering out into the night. There was no light on the landing, of course, in order to preserve their night sight. Imogen and Jasper also came awake as if sensing the tension. All heard a foot crunching and strove to see out into the cloudy night.
oOoOo
Eusebius had been nicked by the rifle bullet when Imogen fired, and he briefly came to his senses appalled by what he was doing, as the pain interrupted his crazed intent; unfortunately it was not enough, and he retreated, determined to pay back pain for pain, to wipe out the family who had stolen and corrupted his little brother, had even corrupted his father, and turned everyone against him. He had almost saved the soul of the girl, Mary, but the devils had corrupted her too. The Finch family were the embodiment of the devil and his demon spawn and must be excised, and the demons disguised as gypsies too. Had Eusebius been familiar with the works of Lord Byron, he would have recognised a line from ‘The Corsair’ in Evelyn, ‘There was a laughing devil in his sneer,’ but for Eusebius this was not a figure of speech but absolutely literal. Somehow, Evelyn had, in Eusebius’s mind, even infiltrated the church so that the Ecclesiastical Court unfrocked him, and sent him to a retreat with an alienist, a man who claimed to understand him, but plainly did not. Eusebius had suddenly realised that he was the only man in the world who could see clearly, and recognise the demons amongst them.
He had to arm himself.
He took himself to the rectory.
“Eusebius! My boy, what are you doing here?” his father, the traitor, who had turned on him. Eusebius snarled, and manhandled the rector into his study, where he proceeded to tie the rector to his chair, and took the key to his gun cabinet from the drawer. Augustus Reckitt had a fowling piece, which Eusebius thought scarcely adequate but it would have to do.
He also bandaged his hand, driving out the little maid with language so foul she fled in real terror and went to take refuge with Widow Hodges and her goats.
Hearing a carriage’s wheels, Eusebius burst out of the door in time to see the emblazoned carriage turn into the gates of the hall, and he fired, without expecting to do much harm, but hoping to frighten whoever was within.
Then he went to make himself a meal in the kitchen, with no thought for his father, tied up in the study, and to wait until dark.
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