Til Death Do Us Part by Sara Fraser

glass of gin and water when the knock sounded on the bedroom door. She frowned irritably.
    â€˜What is it?’
    â€˜If you please, Ma’m, there’s a man at the door who’s wanting to see you.’ Milly Styke’s voice was muffled by the baize-covered door panels. ‘He asked me if Mrs Adelaide Farson was at home, and when I told him yes, he give me this card to bring to you. He says it’s very important and private business he’s come on.’
    â€˜What does he look like? How’s he dressed? Is he rough spoken?’ Ella Peelson hurled questions.
    The girl answered excitedly. ‘He’s big and fat, wi’ a big fat red face; and he’s a parson wi’ a tie-wig on his head, and a black coat and black breeches, Ma’am! And he speaks like the gentry!’
    Ella Peelson frowned thoughtfully. ‘Bring me the card.’
    The child hastened to obey.
    The calling card bore only one line of print:
The Reverend Geraint Winward DD
.
    But beneath this written in ink was the brief statement:
I am here on behalf of XYZ
.
    Ella Peelson fingered the card, noting that it was made of the finest vellum, and expensively embossed with intricate gold filigree.
    â€˜There could be rhino here. I might have struck lucky.’ She smiled with satisfaction.
    â€˜Show the gentleman into the drawing room, my dear, and tell him that I’ll join him shortly.’
    As Walter Courtney followed the diminutive, neatly clad maidservant through the entrance hall and into the drawing room, his shrewd gaze evaluated the expensive furniture, draperies, wall-hung paintings and numerous and varied ornaments.
    The maidservant bobbed a curtsey. ‘Me mistress said to tell you that she ’ull join you shortly, Sir.’
    â€˜Hold there a moment. What’s your name, child?’ Courtney’s manner was avuncular.
    â€˜Styke, Sir. Milly Styke.’
    He produced a silver sixpence which he held out towards her. ‘Well this is your reward, Milly, for receiving me so graciously.’
    â€˜What does that mean, Sir?’ The girl’s features showed interest. ‘That last big word you said?’
    Courtney chuckled. ‘It means that your mistress is very lucky to have such a good and clever girl serving her. How long have you been with her?’
    â€˜Nigh on two years, Sir. She took me out from the Feckenham Parish Poorhouse in Worcestershire, Sir. She chose me because I’ve had some schooling, and me Mam and Dad brought me up proper afore they died.’
    â€˜And a very good choice she made, my dear, because I can see that you’re a very well-brought-up girl,’ Courtney congratulated, and quickly asked more questions until, satisfied that he would learn nothing more, gave her the sixpence, and whispered with a broad wink, ‘This must be our little secret, Milly, or your mistress will surely take this sixpence from you. So we won’t tell her that we talked together, will we, my dear? It shall be our own little secret.’
    â€˜Yes, Sir.’ The girl bobbed a curtsey and left him alone.
    He sat down on an elaborately brocaded, tall-backed chair, placed his top hat on the floor beside him, and listened hard. The instant his sharp ears heard the rustle of movement outside the closed door he bowed his head, closed his eyes, clasped his hands before his face in an attitude of prayer and began murmuring the words of a psalm.
    He sensed the almost noiseless opening of the door, but remained motionless until he heard a soft warning cough.
    He opened his eyes, lifted his head and, gasping in feigned dismay, jumped to his feet and bowed low.
    â€˜I beg you to accept my humblest apologies, Ma’am. I was seeking the guidance of our Lord, and as always at such times I fear that I lost all awareness of this material world about me. I beseech you to forgive my ill manners!’
    â€˜There is nothing to forgive, Reverend Winward; I beg you not to