Chapter Nineteen
April 13th, 1807
Devonshire
“I still don’t remember a thing,” Barnaby said, and it was extremely disconcerting to know that the roof literally had fallen on his head and he couldn’t recall it.
“It’s just as well.” Marcus poured them both sherry from the decanters lined up on the oak sideboard. “Rudkin was screaming. I think the sound will live in my nightmares forever.”
Barnaby accepted the glass Marcus held out to him. He crossed to the French doors that led to the terrace, and gazed out at the encroaching dusk. “How is Rudkin?”
Marcus came to stand beside him. “As spry as he ever was. Thanks to Merry.” He raised his glass in a silent toast.
“And Doctor Curnow? What did he have to say about it all?”
“I don’t think he knew what to say. He was remarkably silent. Dum
