Page 77 of The Book of Lost Stories
‘Nat,’ George said, ‘tell me this is some ghastly nightmare. We cannot do this! Let me escort Miss Weston out of this place, for—’
Faster than a snake striking, Chase snatched up the knife and plunged it into George’s body. His victim half-turned towards Alys, his expression astonished. Then he slumped to the ground and lay still.
There was silence. Then Alys raised her pistol to arm’s length and coolly shot Lord Chase.
At least, that was her intention. However, she had never fired a pistol before and the shot instead went wide, ricocheted off the wall and sent a statue of Eros crashing down, most appropriately, on to Lord Chase’s head.
Behind her there was a sudden scuffle and then Rayven staggered into the room and gazed about him wildly until he spotted Alys.
His bruised and bloody face was a mask of almost berserk rage, but Alys thought she had never seen a more welcome sight and made no resistance when he snatched her to him,holding her in a fierce embrace that temporarily stopped her breathing.
‘Nat!’ she said warningly, when his grip momentarily slackened, seeing her cousin suddenly move, but in flight, dropping the taper he was still holding and vanishing behind the altar.
‘There must be another way out,’ she said, ‘and I’ve shot Lord Chase.’
‘No, you only tried to shoot him. He seems to have been felled by Love,’ Lord Rayven said, removing the pistol that she had been pressing into his ribcage and shoving it into his pocket.
‘He stabbed George. George was trying to help me,’ she shuddered.
‘Serle,’ Harry said, slightly breathlessly, coming into the chamber, ‘they have got away – and look!’
Unobserved, the dropped taper had set fire to the rug and now a line of flames ran greedily along it and up the tapestry hangings. Beyond them, Chase was slowly crawling like some loathsome insect.
‘I’ll get him, sir!’ Jarvis said.
‘No need,’ Harry replied. ‘Half the neighbourhood is up in arms over the missing girl, which is what delayed us, Serle. She escaped, thanks to Miss Weston, and the mob has come with the intention of freeing her and – from the sound of it – burning down Templeshore and anyone in it!’
Indeed, from above there did seem to be a great deal of clamour. ‘Come, we had better go back down the passage,’ Rayven said, his arm still around Alys. ‘The fire is spreading.’
‘But George!’
‘Dead as a herring, miss,’ Jarvis said cheerfully. ‘You’ve only to look at his face.’
‘Oh, yes!’ She felt an insane desire to giggle rise to her lips. Then the floor seemed to suddenly rise to greet her …
‘I never faint!’ she said indignantly, swung up into Lord Rayven’s arms. ‘And you are not fit to carry me anywhere, my lord. Pray put me down.’
‘For once, let me behave like a hero, Miss Weston!’
‘But—’
‘But me no buts,’ he snapped, and strode off down the passage. He seemed to have made a miraculous recovery.
She felt that one of her own heroines would have emerged from the temple into the ring of torchlight on her own two feet, or perhaps hand in hand with the hero, but certainly not carried by him like some helpless creature. Yet his lordship seemed very set on it … and actually it was rather pleasant to be held so closely in his arms and know herself safe again.
A ragged cheer went up as they came out and, as he bore her away, she saw the whole of Templeshore House lit up from within by a red glow.
*
‘Harry,’ Lord Rayven said, ‘you had best drive us back in the curricle and Jarvis can take my horse, which is tied up somewhere nearby.’
‘I’ll find it, sir,’ Jarvis said, and the two men walked off ahead of them towards the gate.
Once out of sight of the crowd, Alys said, ‘I think perhaps you should put me down now, Lord Rayven. I am sure I am no lightweight, and you cannot be entirely recovered from your injury.’
‘Serle.’
‘I cannot possibly call you by your first name,’ she protested. ‘What would people think?’
