The Courtship (Sherbrooke Brides 5)

“Dire straits happen, sir,” Lord Beecham said. “That is a pity, but you may not have the lamp. Go away.”

“You force me to violence, something I abhor.” He raised the gun and aimed it directly at Helen.

“I say, what the devil is going on here? Who is this old fellow who has the gall to aim a gun at my dearest daughter?”

Lord Beecham wanted to cheer at his father-in-law’s unexpected arrival. He did smile. He took Helen’s hand in a firm grip and held her still. “Good day, sir. This fellow is Reverend Older. He has come from London to try to steal our lamp.”

“You mean the lamp that a good dozen people have tried to filch over the past few months? That old dented lamp that probably isn’t worth the filching?”

“Yes, Father, that’s the lamp. We have told him that he cannot have it, that the lamp has no magic, that it has nothing at all. We have been truthful with him.”

“It is you, Lord Prith?” Reverend Older said, turning slowly. “How do you come here? You are wet to your marrow, sir. I want the lamp. It will perform miracles for me. Now get in here, stand beside your daughter and Lord Beecham.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Lord Prith said. He called over his shoulder, “Flock, you were right. We have come across yet another villain who is up to no good. He has a gun and he is pointing it at my beloved and beautiful daughter. What do you want to do?”

“Kill the blighter,” said Flock, peering around Lord Prith’s shoulder.

“This is enough.” Lord Beecham walked right up to Reverend Older.

“Stay back, my lord.”

“Listen to me, sir. You cannot kill four people. It would not be good form, particularly for a man of the cloth. You have claimed to be a man of the church, a man with profound insights. Well, prove your greatness. We have told you the truth. There is no cursed magic in the lamp. Now you need to go away.”

Reverend Older looked as if he would burst into tears. “It isn’t fair. It is so very difficult to be a good man, a godly man, a man to be respected through the ages. Ah, it was just one silly brooch and the old cow rained abuse on my poor head. And then there was Reverend Mathers. He refused to have anything to do with my very nicely devised scheme. I had no choice. Oh, I am undone.”

Lord Beecham felt his blood run cold. So many months had passed, and no one had learned anything about who had murdered Reverend Mathers. Lord Hobbs had given up. Reverend Older had done it?

Helen just stared at him in amazement, unwilling to believe what he had said. “You are the one who stuck that stiletto in poor Reverend Mathers’s back? You are the one who murdered him?”

But Reverend Older didn’t answer immediately. He was staring down at his wet shoes and shaking his head. Then he said, just above a whisper, “I liked Reverend Mathers. He and I were friends once, a very long time ago. But he wouldn’t tell me anything. What was I to do?”

33

THERE WAS DEAD SILENCE. Lord Prith simply closed his hands around Reverend Older’s neck and lifted him off the ground. “You pathetic little man. And you are, you know. Very little, too little, and just look what you have done. You are a sniveling cretin. Flock, what shall I do with this murdering nitwit?”

“I already told you, my lord. Kill the blighter.”

“No, Father, let me take his gun. Loosen your grip a bit, his face is turning quite blue, although as a discipline, it has produced an excellent result.” Helen removed the gun from Reverend Older’s limp hand.

“Flock,” Lord Prith said, “tie the fellow up.”

“What with, my lord?”

“Use your scrawny imagination, Flock.”

It was Lord Beecham who removed his cravat and tied Reverend Older’s hands behind his back. He looked down at the man and said, “What shall we do with you, sir?”

“I suppose I must meet the hangman, my lord.”

“You murdered an excellent man,” Helen said. “You stuck a stiletto in his back. You are a vile person.”

“Yes, ma’am. You are right. I now accept your judgment. I am a foul menace.”

“I say kill the blighter.”

“Well, I am the local magistrate,” Lord Prith said as he eased Reverend Older down onto the cave floor. “Stay there or I will kick you off the cliff.”

“I shan’t move. Actually, I do not believe that I can move.”