The Dauntless Miss Wingrave by Amanda Scott

Author:Amanda Scott [Scott, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2013-07-21T16:00:00+00:00

9

WHEN EMILY HAD FINISHED her breakfast, she went down to the hall, debating with herself over whether she would disturb Jack before noon. The decision was made for her, however, before she had reached the bottom step of the grand stair. Merritt turned sharply toward her, and William, who was the footman on duty in the hall just then, straightened with the same startled air, for their attention had been firmly riveted upon the library doors and they had failed at first to note her approach. Emily could scarcely blame them, however, for the racket penetrating the closed doors of the library would have distracted anyone.

She had no difficulty recognizing the source of the noise. Having now been in Yorkshire for some weeks, she could not fail to recognize Mr. Scopwick’s stentorian accents.

“How long has he been here, William?”

“Half an hour, sithee, miss. Happen his lungs’ll wear out soon, think on.”

“I doubt that. Is it the Runners again?”

“Aye. Searched through his kitchen garden this time. Told him they had orders from that Mr. Tickhill, sithee, to search every nook and cranny of the woods and surrounding countryside. Near as we can tell, the vicar wants his lordship should either hang both them Runners or send ’em back to Lunnon, post.”

“If they’ve destroyed his kitchen garden, no one can blame him for being a trifle put out,” Emily said fairly.

“Nay, miss.” Both Merritt and William grinned at the understatement, but neither man offered further comment.

Emily regarded the library doors thoughtfully. Scopwick had neither run out of breath nor lowered his volume. Deciding that Jack had heard enough shouting for one morning, she took a deep breath and moved purposefully toward the doors.

“Tha’ must not go in, miss,” said William quickly. “He said they wasna to be disturbed.”

“Who said? His lordship or Mr. Scopwick?”

“The vicar, miss.”

“Open the doors, William, and stand back.”

Grinning now, the footman did as she told him, and Emily, chin high, sailed past him into the library.

“Good morning, my lord,” she said briskly. “Good morning, Mr. Scopwick. How nice to see you, sir. My sister was saying only yesterday that we see too little of you these days. Perhaps you would honor us by dining with us one evening soon.”

Mr. Scopwick, having been interrupted mid-bellow, straightened and turned on her, his anger unmistakable, and for a moment Emily feared the man would continue where he had left off. She was amazed as always to see how large he was. Jack was sitting in his chair behind the library table, more or less as though he had been pinned there, and when she entered, the vicar had been leaning across the table glaring at him, words pouring forth from his mouth like a river in full spate. At her entrance he had whirled indignantly to face the door, and it was clear from his expression that he intended to deal short shrift to whoever had dared to interrupt his discussion with Meriden. Fortunately, he recollected himself at once. Instead of sharp words, he executed a curt bow and waited impatiently to hear what she would say.

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