And Thursdays were their day to shoot.
On this particular Thursday—a rather overcast, gloomy sort of morning—Kate had invited the Gramercys to join the ladies’ target practice at Summerfield, Sir Lewis Finch’s estate.
“I’ve always wanted to learn this,” Aunt Marmoset said. “It’s so exciting.”
“Watch first, shoot later.” Kate demonstrated the proper loading of a single-barrel pistol. “You must measure out the charge carefully with the powder horn,” she said. “Then the ball and a patch. Like this, see?”
As she tamped down the bullet, Kate could sense Aunt Marmoset’s impatience.
“That’s all very interesting, dear, but when do I make it go bang?”
Kate smiled. “Let’s shoot together this first time, shall we?”
She moved behind the older woman and helped her raise the pistol in both hands, bracing her arms straight as they aimed at the target.
“You’ll want to close one eye,” she said. “For precision. Then c**k the hammer like so. And once you have it aimed and steady, gently squeeze the—”
“Oh,” cried one of the other ladies, “here comes Lord Drewe!”
“Evan’s here? Where?” Aunt Marmoset swung around, turning Kate with her. Together they pivoted with the loaded pistol braced in their outstretched hands—like a compass needle veering toward north.
All the ladies gasped and ducked.
“Get down!” Kate cried, struggling to regain control.
“Evan, look!” the Aunt Marmoset called. “I’m learning to shoot!”
Realizing he stood in the line of fire, Evan froze in place. “Brilliant.”
With a flick of her thumb, Kate uncocked the hammer.
“Aunt Marmoset, please.” She gripped the old woman’s frail wrists and pulled downward, until the pistol was safely pointed at the ground. Despite her racing heartbeat, she made her voice calm. “Why don’t we set this aside for now? Lord Drewe looks as though he has something to say.”
Evan recovered himself. “Indeed I do.” He clapped his hands together and rubbed them briskly. “I have exciting news for everyone.”
“What is it?” Charlotte Highwood asked.
“Sir Lewis has agreed to loan me Summerfield’s great hall for an evening next week. My sisters and I . . .” He paused for effect. “ . . . will be hosting a ball.”
All the ladies went dead quiet. Nervous glances were exchanged. Kate thought she heard someone mutter a prayer.
“Did you . . .” She cleared her throat. “You did say a ball, Lord Drewe? Here at Summerfield?”
“Yes, a ball. It will be our way of thanking Spindle Cove for all the warm hospitality we’ve been shown during our holiday. We’ll invite the militia, all the rooming house residents. We’ll have a grand time.”
The ladies’ silence clearly wasn’t the reaction Evan had been expecting. He looked around at the somber young women, nonplussed. “I don’t understand. Do you not like balls?”
“We do,” Kate assured him. “It’s just that Summerfield balls . . . well, the last two both ended in violence and mayhem. Last summer, the ball was over before it even started, due to a tragic explosion. And then at Christmas, a French smuggler crashed into the ballroom and held poor Miss Winterbottom hostage all night. So we’ve developed a bit of a superstition, you see. About Summerfield balls. Some people say they’re cursed.”
“Well, this one will be different.” Evan pulled up to his most lordly, commanding stature.
“Of course it will be,” Lark said, “if the Gramercys are hosting it.”
“Oh, yes,” Harry added. “We are known for always showing our guests an unforgettable time.”
Kate might have argued that the first two Summerfield balls had been unforgettable in their own ways.
Diana Highwood smiled, saving them all with her ever-affable nature. “Mama will be very pleased. And I can scarcely wait myself. A ball is a lovely idea. Lord Drewe, you and your sisters are very good to us.”
Evan bowed. “Thank you, Miss Highwood. It is our pleasure.” To Kate, he added, “Miss Taylor, will you take a turn with me and my sisters in the garden? We’d like to solicit your advice with regards to the music.”
“Very well,” Kate said. She disarmed and disassembled the pistol and stored it safely away. To Diana, she whispered, “Please don’t let their aunt anywhere near another weapon.”
Diana laughed a little. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”
Before heading for the garden, Kate collected Badger from the Summerfield groundskeeper. While she supposed a top hunting dog should theoretically be inured to gunfire, she hadn’t thought it wise to have him underfoot during target practice.