Jared scanned the surrounding rooftops. There was nothing to be seen now, of course, and the adjoining houses offered an escape route any cracksman or hoist artist could use as easily as his own back stairs. He went back down leaving the footman on the roof with the promise of relief in an hour or so.
Lord Northam had a chair next to the scullery door and was mopping his face with what looked like a dishcloth as he talked in a loud voice to his wife through the door. ‘Anything?’ he barked at Jared.
‘No. They knocked out the sweep and he and the boy saw nothing. My regrets for my curtness just now, my lord.’ The old man grunted an acceptance of the apology. ‘We need a rota of watchmen on the roof,’ Jared said. ‘I doubt they will try the same trick again, but I cannot rely on them not attempting something even more dangerous next time.’ He moved past the red-faced Viscount and tapped on the door. ‘Guinevere? This is Jared Hunt. Unlock the door please.’
She emerged, soot-smudged, dishevelled and with one arm round the shoulders of a snivelling boy. ‘Run along to Cook, Sammy, and tell her I said you were to have milk and plum cake. My dear, are you all right? The shock and the exertion – ’
‘It is not I who sustained the shock, Guinnie, my love. Are you certain you are not hurt?’ The Viscount was patting his wife’s hand as he studied her face.
‘Quite certain. That is entirely thanks to
Mr Hunt who threw me very neatly behind the sofa.’
Jared left them to their mutual reassurance and climbed back to the sitting room to survey the damage, dragging his mind away from the all-too vivid memory of just how Lady Northam had felt under him after that neat throw. There had been a faint question in his mind right from the moment the explosion occurred, but securing the house had not allowed him to ponder it. Now he stood in the middle of the room and studied the charred hole in the hearthrug. Strange. Very strange indeed.
He crouched and lifted the rug to his nose, sniffed and dropped it again as he stood up. Behind him the door opened and he turned slowly, recognising the laboured breathing of his employer, still out of wind from the recent alarm.
‘My lord, these incidents have occurred both here in London and at one of your country estates?’
‘Yes. Come back to my study. I feel the need for my comfortable chair and a glass of brandy.’ The Viscount led the way and sat down stiffly, looking all of his years. ‘My wife has gone to her chamber to lie down. Her maid is with her. The decanters are over there.’ He flapped a hand in the general direction and closed his eyes.
‘Which attack happened where?’ Jared asked when they were settled either side of the desk, brandy glowing warmly in the glasses in front of them.
‘We were at Allerton Grange, the house I bought at the funeral I told you about. It was mid-March but the weather was exceedingly fine and I thought it was time we stayed there for a while, decided what needed doing to it. The order was the handrail, the adder and the horse. Naturally I brought my wife back here – I assumed there was some local lunatic at large. Then there was the shot in Hyde Park and now this.’
Allerton. That rang faint bells… He put the thought aside as unimportant for now. ‘How far up the stairs was the rail sawn through?’
‘About seven steps from the bottom.’
‘And it is a circular stair? Carpeted?’
‘Yes, to both. I had the carpet put down when Guinevere took a liking to the tower room.’
‘Lady Northam is a good rider?’
‘Very.’ The older man seemed to rouse himself at the question. He sat up straighter and smiled proudly. ‘A cracking little rider. Light hands and nerves of steel.’
‘And the shot in the Park?’
‘That was a miraculous escape. She had pulled the check string for the driver to halt so she could get down to look at one of the new plantations and seconds after she stepped down the bullet hit the back of the seat just where she had been sitting.’
There was a tap at the door and Twite entered. ‘Excuse me, my lord, but Hoskins the footman has recommended his brothers as additional guards. There are four of them, I understand, all strapping young men employed on a casual basis as porters at Covent Garden market. He thought they would supplement our forces here. Hoskins has been with us several years and has always proved very satisfactory, I feel we could trust others from his family if you approve.’
The Viscount looked at Jared. ‘Have Mr Hunt interview them when they arrive. Well?’ he demanded as the door closed behind the butler. ‘What are you looking so quizzical about, Hunt?’
‘An impression, merely. Something that may not be of any consequence, but I must think on it.’ If he was right then something very strange indeed was going on here, something even more mystifying than attempted murder.
Chapter Four
Just what were they dealing with here? Jared probed again. ‘Has Lady Northam suffered from any illnesses, anything that might have left her with a weak heart?’
‘Not so far as I am aware. She is perfectly healthy. Did her reaction today seem like that of a woman with a weak heart?’
‘No, not at all.’ She felt like a healthy young woman in every respect. Her heart was thudding under mine with great regularity, the pulse in her throat… ‘Lady Northam appears to be standing up to the strain very well. Do you require me further today once I have interviewed this footman’s family battalion of guards?’
‘I suppose not. My wife had intended going out this evening, some reception or another, but I will see to it that she rests instead. I’ll tell her I am feeling shaky, that will keep her in. You will return tomorrow, Hunt?’
‘Certainly, my lord. I will be here after breakfast.’