Alexander-Fyn-Sanguinarian

relief she turned around to see Mrs. Brackett’s large square figure marching up the narrow aisle between the pews.
    One meaty fist was clenched, the other brandished her ubiquitous umbrella. She looked like the ancient Queen Boudicca leading her people to fight the invading Roman hoards. Behind her came her own little infantry of Mr. Harding, followed by the landlady from the London boarding house.
    “Get them out of here!” Raven said.

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    “I’m not going anywhere without my young lady.” Mrs. Brackett held her umbrella like a spear ready to become airborne.
    An excited whispering rose and fell continually, sounding as if a swarm of bees had entered the church.
    “What is going on here? Who are you, ma’am?” the vicar stepped around Raven to address Mrs. Brackett. “Why can his lordship not marry the young lady?”
    “Because she doesn’t love him,” she said categorically. “In fact she despises him!”
    Absolute silence fell at her words.
    “I love her.” Young Mr. Harding, cheeks pink, eyes bright, stepped up beside Raven. “I love this young lady with all my heart.”
    The contrast of the fresh-faced young man beside the towering yellow-eyed figure of The Raven was so stark that the villagers shook their heads as one, marking the difference. Approving of one and soundly disapproving of the other. What young lady would have Lord Ravenscroft with all his money and title, when a stalwart young fellow, wearing his heart on his sleeve, was the alternative?
    “You only met her a few days ago, you simpleton,” Raven bellowed, making him jump.
    Mrs. Brackett reared up. “And you only met her less than a fortnight ago, and you had to purchase her from her uncle like a piece of horseflesh because she wouldn’t have come to you willingly, money and title be damned.” She turned to face her audience.
    “Thousands of pounds he paid for the poor lamb, that’s how desperate he is for an innocent young wife.”
    “You bought this young lady?” the vicar asked, horrified.
    “Like a sack of potatoes,” Mrs. Brackett said loudly. The villagers leaned forward. Those who had not come into the church earlier to witness the spectacle were drawn in now by the noise and excitement, and crowded about the door.
    “Like a blackamoor slave,” Mr. Harding added, his cheeks growing redder still. “It’s shameful enough that the buying and selling Sanguinarian 147
    of human misery goes on in the colonies, but this is England!” He looked positively cherubic, even as he looked gallant and heroic.
    Nervously, Evangeline observed that the mob was turning on Lord Ravenscroft.
    “Human misery indeed! She was miserable already. She had no money and no prospects.” He waved a dismissive hand at Mr.
    Harding. “He’s nothing but an ordinary little bank clerk.” He looked at the vicar, snatching off his spectacles to peer down at him, teeth bared. “The fact that she does not love me is irrelevant. It is not an impediment to marriage. I’ll wager you marry people every day of the week in this church who do not love each other.”
    Shifting uneasily under Raven’s gaze, the young vicar had to admit he was right. “My Lord, I cannot refute what you say, but if the young lady refuses you, then I cannot go against her wishes.”
    Everyone turned to look at Evangeline who said quietly, “It’s not just that. There is more.”
    “I’ll say there’s more,” Mrs. Brackett rejoined. “He kidnapped her.” A great gasp filled the church, encouraging Mrs. Brackett to raise her voice still higher above din. “Twice! First from her home in London. He took her in a carriage what looked like a hearse to that horrible dark castle out there on the moor. It’s a vile place, cobwebs in every corner. Screams issuing from locked tower rooms. We escaped by the skin of our teeth and then he kidnapped my poor young lady again from the boarding house we was hiding in.”
    “I witnessed that!” young Mr. Harding burst out. “He dragged the young lady out of the house screaming while we all fought to protect her. She was wearing only a thin nightgown.”
    The congregation’s collective breath was indrawn so suddenly that Raven’s coattails lifted.
    “I was there, too,” the landlady confirmed, nodding vigorously.
    “He entered my house by scaling the walls like some strange and weird animal, and climbing in through a window.”
    The crowd sank into a stunned silence.

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    “This has