Hide in Time (25 page)

“Hello Martha. You have been so
helpful; we shall surely miss you.”

“Fuddles, girl,” she
wrinkled her nose, “But the parson says he’s got first
claim and he’s good to work for. He’s right, of course;
he don’t mind my chatter. I asked him what he was giving up for
Lent and you know what he said? He said he was giving up being good.
Being good – him!” she snorted. “Course, he’s
really given up ‘strong drink’, as he calls it. Says he’s
going to set an example to his flock and all the flopping louts in
the town – some hopes, eh? But,” she said
conspiratorially, “I’d give me arms and a leg to work for
Mister Adam. You’d best snap him up, girl,” she paused
then tried again, “Miss.” At this point she seemed to
remember she was clutching a pile of logs. “I’d best put
these down.” She did, with a thud, and a cloud of dust rose.
“I’ll get me duster. Wait there; I’ll be back.”

Alexandra and Catherine watched her
leave then burst into laughter, stopping themselves with difficulty
when she returned with her duster to try to clean up the dust in the
marble hearth.

As she laboured, her buttocks swinging
rhythmically, she chattered unselfconsciously “You’ve
heard about the ship sinking, have you?” Not waiting for an
answer she persisted. “Well, the Easter gales wrecked an East
Indiaman. ‘The Alexander’, it was. Johnson says I’m
not to say anything to Mister Adam, but it’s all right to tell
you, isn’t it Miss Leigh-Fox?”

Catherine and Alexandra exchanged
glances. “Where was this, Martha?” Alexandra asked.

Martha stopped cleaning, crumpled her
duster into her pocket, stood up and put her forefinger to her chin,
“I don’t know that I know.”

Adam put his head around the door,
“Wrecked on Chesil Beach. Just five people saved.”

“All foreign?” queried
Alexandra.

“Indeed,” responded Adam.

Hide in Time ~ Anna Faversham

It was early April; the air was sweet
with blossom and meadows were soft under foot, tempting Alexandra to
walk, ride and find ways to fully appreciate the promise of new life.
Her writing was, as Martha said, ‘being talked about high and
low and in between’. Having wobbled at length in her opinion of
Adam, she now decided he was nothing more than a play-acting
philanderer, weak and not worthy of her attention. She would do her
best to erase him from her thoughts. He was, of course, worthy of her
gratitude; she would be sure to make that clear; indeed, she would
insist upon a fair contribution to her keep. She had always…
Well she believed she had always supported herself – if only
she could remember. Her mind made up, she could not have been happier
nor stronger in resolve, at least until she was about to enter the
sitting room.

“He is systematically stripping
this house of all the centuries of treasures you inherited, Father.
It cannot go on.”

“Adam, calm yourself,” said
Father Fox raising his palm as if he were Jesus calming the stormy
sea. “If he takes it now, he cannot inherit it later.”

“And neither can anyone else! He
has even sold the far paddock. Was that with your collusion?”

Alexandra stepped back to where she
could not be seen.

“Don’t distress yourself.
There will be plenty left.”

“That is not what concerns me,
Father. How can Catherine hold her head high? She has a drunken,
philandering gambler for a brother, who is constantly needing to sell
the family silver – and much more – to pay his debts. The
whole county knows. We now no longer have a housekeeper because of
his behaviour; nor a butler. The few servants we have left are young
and untrained and the running of the household is becoming too much
for them.”

“We must employ more servants.”

“Father, you do not seem to
remember. You have allowed Jack to borrow more than he can repay.
There is no money left! Surely you can see that is why he had to sell
the paddock?”

“He must marry.”

“No one wants to marry someone
who is likely to end in a debtors’ prison.” His tone had
changed from harnessed anger to a forlorn acceptance of Jack’s
pending fate.

“You must not speak so.”
Although there was a semblance of command in his expression, Father
Fox did not raise his voice; it was as if it were all too much
trouble – why fight?

Forlorn acceptance was banished as Adam
now retorted, “You are the only one who has the authority to
withdraw his allowance and use it to replenish the household
reserves. Withhold his funds or reduce them drastically and I will
see that he causes as little embarrassment as possible to the family
name. Consider Catherine: she was to have a dowry of twenty thousand
pounds, little enough in this day and age, and you have given half to
him as a loan, while you, sir,” Adam paused, “you denied
me the right to be made aware of this. If he had not flaunted it, I
should never have known. Catherine’s chances in life are all
but ruined.”

Alexandra, stunned, withdrew unseen.
Catherine had said nothing about this. Perhaps she didn’t know.
Wasn’t Adam being somewhat hypocritical calling his brother a
philanderer while he was clearly consorting with someone in the
village and having to support her? Better to leave and miss something
than to be found eavesdropping, albeit unintentionally, so she
hurried away, unaware of the sea change to come.

“He has taken far more than his
share already and, if it were to continue, he would be the cause of
your daughter’s unhappiness for years to come. I have respected
your love for your troubled son but I vow to you now, father, in
consideration of mother’s wishes and grandfather’s
instruction to both you and me, I will not let Jack take one more
penny out of this house.”

~

“Alexandra, shall we go riding
this afternoon?” said Catherine with a winsome look. “James
is unable to visit.”

“Oh Catherine, how
disappointing.” Alexandra, seated on the sofa in the morning
room, stretched her long legs in front of her, wiggled her toes, and
took a look at her new purchase, some pale blue, kid slippers.

“His father has work for him to
do, though I cannot imagine what.”

Afraid she might reveal something of
what she had heard, Alexandra attempted to steer the subject away
from Catherine’s future; clearly the new footwear had not done
the trick. Failure presented an opportunity to discover more of the
family history. “Catherine, has Jack always been wayward?”

“Oh no, not until mother died. He
started drinking then. Not too much at first but enough for Laura to
distance herself from him.”

She must handle this conversation
carefully; there was much to learn. “Oh, did he like Laura
too?”

“He worshipped her. Followed her
everywhere but one day, when they were out walking, he’d drunk
enough to make him uncommonly bold, and he struck her when she
resisted.”

“Attacked her? Was she all
right?”

“Adam was not far behind,
fortunately. Though he is the younger, he’s always been the
stronger for as long as I can recall. Adam pulled him away and they
fought. Jack drew a knife and slashed at Adam – that’s
how he acquired the scar on his face. Adam hit him so hard that Jack
fell badly and could hardly walk for days; had to have his ankle
bound.”

“How awful.”

“Papa was very angry with Adam
and has called him ‘Wild’ ever since.”

“Adam? I thought he was called
‘Mild’.”

“Well that would make more
sense,” said Catherine with a smile, “But papa likes his
little jest.”

“Do you suppose your father knows
more than we do?” Alexandra said.

Catherine thought for a moment before
saying, “Why do you say that?”

“Perhaps he calls Adam ‘Wild’
to let Adam know that what he gets up to is known to him.

Catherine laughed. “Adam has no
time to get up to anything. He is the kind and sweet one –
always fishing Jack out of deep water. Papa says he is like wild
honey.”

“Wild honey? This is all so
confusing. And why does your father call Jack ‘Mild’?”

“He had always been mild until
mama died. He has become, papa says, as mild as mustard.”

Alexandra could say no more. How could
she? Catherine was soon to have some very bad news indeed and to
raise the question of either of her brothers’ morality or dwell
any longer on her father’s odd ways would be insensitive.
Things were becoming clearer. Poor Jack, the origin of his behaviour
lay in the anger he felt. Such a destructive emotion. She thought for
a moment then said, “Catherine, I’m just going to speak
to Billy. I’ll ask him to saddle the horses later. I shan’t
be long.”

Something had popped into her mind and
only Billy would know the answer. She found him with William sitting
on a bench outside Esky’s stable, both enjoying a large tankard
of steaming broth.

“Billy, may I have a word with
you?”

Billy and William leapt up and
Alexandra waved William to sit down. “Billy, on that night when
we arrived back to find ourselves locked out…”

“Who could forget, Miss Mulberry?
We all feared for your life. ’tis good to see you looking so
well now.”

“Thank you, Billy.” The
flow had been stopped; she now had to think of the best way to ask.
“Billy, you remember we saw someone in the village?”

“Yup.”

“Which horse had been out?”

“Mister Adam’s horse was
hot and steamy; definitely been galloping. I saw William here
brushing Esky down.”

William looked up at Billy, narrowed
his eyes, and pulled his forefinger across his throat.

Alexandra had asked her question, had
her suspicions confirmed and now knew it was time to change the
subject. “Saddle Holly and Black for a mid afternoon ride,
Billy. We’d like to make the most of this lovely spring day.”

“Be glad to do that for you, Miss
Mulberry. Very pleased to help at any time, in any way.” He
turned and gave William as good a look as he had received.

~

“A picnic? Oh Adam, what a
wonderful idea. When?”

“Well, my dear little sister,
there’s no point in planning too far ahead in case the weather
changes. I have made the arrangements for tomorrow. Raffles says it
will be fine weather – something to do with God wanting him to
show off his new hat. Or so he says.”

“Is Mr Raffles coming?”

“Indeed. And a few other friends
and much-loved family members.”

Alexandra watched Adam teasing his
little sister, he twirled her hair as he added, “Best picnic
finery to be worn. Mister James Frobisher will be there to appreciate
it.”

~

“Goodness! What a lot of people,”
said Alexandra as she watched the parson’s carriage conveying
Martha, Millie, Johnson, the good Mrs Lamb, and three large hampers
up the hill ahead of the main party.

Charlotte Carpenter came with her
chaperone, an older cousin “from the distressed side of the
family” – a phrase she enjoyed repeating often. Today it
was said to great effect as she lolled in the new landau, with one
hand on her bonnet and the other haughtily stroking the glossy yellow
coachwork. As Jack approached on horseback, the stroking became
distinctly sensuous.

“Do you think she chose her
bonnet to match the paint or the paint to match her bonnet?”
whispered Alexandra to Catherine who was obliged to stifle a giggle.

“No, no, Alexandra. James is
approaching. I mustn’t be seen to be giggling like a child.”

Catherine, who had been watching over
her shoulder for the arrival of James, now stood tall and serene, and
Alexandra greeted the young man, who would one day inherit his
father’s title, with the greatest respect. Respect which would
advance dear Catherine’s prospects, she hoped. She then
strolled towards the Leigh-Fox carriage, giving Adam, who was leading
Esky slowly towards the front of the procession, the slightest hint
of a smile as she passed. His look! The merest flicker of his eyes
told her he’d registered her smallest possible smile and it had
hurt him. She also read in that look something akin to desire. It set
the rabble of butterflies free again. They had been under such strict
control and yet he could undo her best efforts in less than a second.
Drat! Her discomfort increased when he overtook her easily and opened
the carriage door for her. She’d have to smile more. It would
be ungracious to cause further hurt. She notched up the smile, but
lowered her eyes as she mounted the steps and sat next to the silent
Father Fox and opposite Raffles.

“Thank you, Adam,” was all
she could manage.

“I hope you will be comfortable.
I shall look forward to seeing you when we arrive.”

Nothing flowery; nothing to which she
could object.

The carriage door had barely closed
before it was enthusiastically flung open by James Frobisher for
Catherine who tumbled in, clutching her skirts. Alexandra could sense
Raffles noticing the difference.

“A fine young man,” he
ventured to Catherine. “Fine and upright and so like your good
brother, Adam.”

Alexandra shifted in her seat a little
as the carriage rumbled ahead and she endeavoured to respond civilly
with a smile and nod to Raffles, who had turned to include her in the
conversation. Adding weight to his assessment, Raffles continued, “If
he is also as wise as Adam, you could make no better match,
Catherine.”

Alexandra wondered if Raffles knew of
Catherine’s loss of dowry.

“He is so handsome, don’t
you think, Mr Raffles?”

“Indeed.”

How important it is to consider what
others think of our ‘intendeds’, thought Alexandra. If it
were left to Catherine alone, she might accept him on looks and her
prospect of being a Lady. Raffles was clearly of a similar opinion
for he added one final observation. “Sometimes we are not in
possession of all the facts before we choose or reject a partner in
our life’s pilgrimage. It is judicious to heed the counsel of
those who know them better. Would you not agree, Miss Mulberry?”