Four and twenty men congregated in the barely light on a glistening gravelled path. Flanked by a cragged giant, bound by nerves and with an impression of forced purpose they waited. A surface of unity, borne out by their dress – frock coats, tails, hastily gathered outers, a tall hat here and all the while, not far off now, the approaching clatter of a carriage dimmed only slightly by the faster vigours of cold, slanting rain.
Moments now, and she would be here and their task would be upon them. The hillside bearing down, the moon slurring distant beyond yet sufficient in framing the recognisable shape of the Manor, dotted with lights and streaked by secrets within.
Solo Violin: Thomas Kemp
Solo Cello: Richard Harwood