Gibbous House 31

To his good fortune, Harbinger survived the lodging of the fishbone in his gullet and Maccabi’s enthusiastic efforts to remove it by the power of brute force applied to the cadaverous clergyman’s dorsal region. This tableau had cheered me quite as much as the fine breakfast, when Maccabi addressed me directly for the first time in more than twelve hours:

‘Mr Moffat, we must be going if we are to catch the tide. Might I suggest we leave Miss Pardoner to arrange her affairs here. I shall of course arrange suitable means of transport for your… ward in Seahouses, on our way to your new residence.’

‘I should say, Maccabi, that I prefer that Miss Pardoner accompany us forthwith. I am sure the Reverend is familiar enough with the young woman’s belongings to prepare them for consignment later.’

The incongruously jolly voice stumbled over his affirmation that it would indeed be a pleasure. I laughed and said,

‘ I have not the slightest doubt of that, Reverend.’

It looked for a moment as though Maccabi’s ministrations had not removed every piscatorial impediment to the Reverend’s continued respiration, but he recovered himself and went to apprise the girl of the arrangements.

Maccabi and I had travelled side-by-side to Lindisfarne in the driving seat of the Phaeton. The carriage was no high-flyer thank goodness as that design did not allow for a driver. Ours was a mail coach, mounted on mail coach springs, and as such, afforded a slightly less harum-scarum ride to the passengers - and the opportunity to further discommode Maccabi to myself, by sharing the rear seat with the interesting Ellen Pardoner. I myself handed the young woman up into the phaeton, while Maccabi found something of interest in the Church of Saint Mary’s bell tower. No sooner was I in my seat than Maccabi laid on the slightly recovered nag with a will. Which impetuosity on his part merely ensured a momentarily closer acquaintance with Miss Pardoner’s undoubted charms for myself. She shrank quite away from me, in fact, and I studied her for a moment. Ellen Pardoner was not beautiful, being possessed of a nose slightly out of true, a handsome jaw and eyes inherited from a shipwrecked sailor of the Armada, which is to say as brown as a colt’s and in no way any kind of fashionable blue. Nonetheless, I felt myself drawn to her, although I must allow that some of her attraction for me lay in the possibilities for the baiting of Maccabi.

‘So, Miss Pardoner, I began,’ with a look at Maccabi’s ramrod back. ‘How come you to be quite the most attractive part of my inheritance?’

She lifted her chin: ‘Mr Moffat, I am your ward and not your chattel.’

‘Quite so, Miss Pardoner. But are you not promised, has not Northumbrian society worn away the flags leading to your – or rather my- door to pledge troth by dint of your expectations, if not your beauty?’

Her eyes grew hot and I knew her for a woman of passionate temperament, though she said calmly:

‘It seems to me that any expectations I might have had, now exist - or do not - according to your own whim, sir.’

‘Indeed they do, Miss Pardoner, indeed they do.’ I replied.