Black Diaries

53. Revolutionary War, Round Two

I went, okay? Yes, I went. I had no intention of doing anything of the kind in the beginning, of course. That arrogant son of a bachelor could go bugger himself, as they so aptly put it over here. But then, when I went to call on my furry little patients around the town, I found out that that they all had been withdrawn.

"Withdrawn?" I demanded as the housekeeper of Mrs. Carlson, whose labrador I was supposed to examine that day. "What do you mean, withdrawn?"

She gave me a cautious smile. "Well, Miss, we heard you was hired by his Lordship. None of us wouldn't dream of interfering with his Lordship. No, Miss, never."

And what did I hear from the owners of my other furry friends?

"You are working for Lord Farleigh now, aren't you? Congratulations! Of course, his Lordship is very demanding. I suppose I'll have to make other arrangements for my little Bella. Give my most humble regards to his Lordship."

"I heard that his Lordship hired you as a full-time veterinarian, so I naturally assumed you had no time for my little darling anymore and got someone else. Please convey my humble regards to his Lordship."

"So kind of you to drop by! But I know of course that now you're working for his Lordship, you won't have time for me and my Simba. Give my humble regards to his Lordship."

God damn England and the blasted feudal system! It was about time for someone to start a revolution in this miserable little country!

And why shouldn't that someone be me?

So I went. Not to grovel for a job, oh no, I wasn't nearly desperate and destitute enough to do that! I went to give him a piece of my mind! Preferably the piece with a ticking time bomb in it.

I didn't have a car, and the hearse-like taxis appeared only to frequent London, so I decided to take another morning walk. It wasn't difficult to find my way. As soon as I opened my mouth and uttered the words "Barrington Hall", people pointed me in the right direction. Good. I wasn't in the mood for long detours or delays. I had some eviscerating to do.

After a walk of about half a mile down a quiet country road, I found myself at a dead end. My way was blocked by a thick, artfully cut hedge that stretched out in either direction as far as the eye could see. Right in front of me, where the road met the hedge, there was a gap that was filled by a massive stone arch, holding a pair of wrought iron gates.

Among all this ancient ostentation, there was only one tiny piece of modernity: a doorbell, complete with intercom, set into the weathered stone of the gate.

Stepping forward, I slammed my fist on the button. There was no ringtone, but a moment later, a cultured, British man's voice emanated from the intercom.

"Yes?"

"Let me in!"

"What is the purpose of your visit, if I may ask, Miss?"

"I'm here to see Lord Farleigh!"

"And may I inquire what is the nature of your business with his Lordship?"

Grabbing hold of the stone column, I leaned very close to the intercom. "The nature of my business with his Mighty Lordshipness is to rip his guts out and tie them into pretty ribbons."

There was a short pause.

"Um... excuse me, Miss? Something must be wrong with the connection. I don't think I heard you correctly, just now."

"I've come to discuss a personal business matter."

"Oh. I see. And your name is?"

"Cassy McKinney."