Read Online The Heart That Lies by April Munday - Free Book Online Page B

good that he had made a study of Meldon and knew that he could not shoot.
    “Very well. I am ready.” He took off his coat and laid it on a seat in the carriage.
    “Then we will begin.”
    “Finch?”
    “Yes?”
    “If it should end badly, look after the boy.” He paused to make sure that Finch was paying attention. “I don’t mean just today.”
    “I understand.”
    Meldon doubted it, but knew that Finch would make sure no harm came to the boy.
    “One more thing.”
    “Yes?”
    “Make sure you stand well out of the way. Who knows where my shot will go if I have to fire.”
    Finch didn’t smile; he knew the danger to his own life. He would also have to ensure that Lord Philpott was not endangered. They shook hands, then Finch led him and Philpott to where Smith stood waiting. There was no need for them to say any more. Meldon looked to see if the boy’s hands were shaking, but they were perfectly still. Smith seemed completely calm. Meldon knew that his own hands did not betray the feelings that were raging within him. He was not a coward, but only a fool felt no fear at the prospect of his own death. He dared not look into Smith’s eyes, for he was sure he would see the boy’s own fear there.
    “Gentlemen,” Philpott began, “you will stand back to back and on my command walk ten paces. If one of you should turn before I count to ten I will shoot you.” He raised the pistol he held in his hand. Meldon wasn’t entirely sure that this was an empty threat. Philpott was a good enough shot to wound if it was his intention. “On ten you will turn and fire. Do you understand?”
    Meldon and Smith nodded , then bowed to one another.
    T hen they turned back to back. Philpott took a step backwards, then started to count aloud.
    Even as he started to pace Meldon wondered why Philpott was counting so slowly; each step lasted a lifetime. By the time Philpott got to ten he would have forgotten which direction to turn and how to shoot and what he should be shooting at. He became aware of the unevenness of his gait. Although he was not leaning heavily on his stick, he felt the damp ground give beneath it at each step. Briefly he wondered if the ground would swallow him up if he were shot and fell, then knew the thought for nonsense. A bird flew overhead and he tried to recognise it by its song. There was another noise in the trees and he turned his head towards it. The low sun was in his eyes and he blinked. It was going to be a beautiful day; the sun had just risen and a faint mist was rising from the narrow river that was just beyond the trees. Calm settled around him like a blanket and he tightened his grip on his pistol. As usual, it felt false, as if it had no business being in his hand.
    “Ten!” Philpott’s voice was like an explosion and Meldon remembered immediately why he was here and what he had to do.
    Meldon turned so that he presented the smallest possible target to Smith. The boy was slower at turning. He faced Meldon squarely, but seemed to be falling even as he raised his pistol. Meldon didn’t remember firing. How had he managed to hit the boy without firing? He started moving towards the boy and heard the small explosion as Smith fired, followed by the much louder one as his own finger jogged the trigger of his weapon. Then Smith was on the ground. Meldon ran across the short distance that separated them.
    Philpott caught him and stopped him.
    “Damn it, man, you shot him after you’d started towards him.”
    Confused, Meldon shook him off and continued towards Smith.
    “You’re hurt, my lord,” said Perkins, who seemed to have appeared from nowhere.
    “I’ll deal with his lordship,” said Finch , catching Meldon’s arm before he could get closer to the fallen boy. “You look to Mr Smith.”
    “Have I killed him?” asked Meldon as Finch pulled him round to look at his wound.
    “I can’t tell yet, my lord.”
    “Give the man a chance , Meldon, and keep still. Your face is bleeding