Hide in Time (34 page)

Father Fox tottered in after Charlotte,
and Alexandra followed him. “Deplorable. To win the war too
late to save the estate. Deplorable. The vultures will be here in no
time.” He mopped his brow and continued somewhat
apologetically, “I’d rather the lion take what he can of
his kill.”

It seemed to Alexandra that Jack was
more of a scavenging dog than a lion and Father Fox should be
apprised of the situation before he compounded his folly. “Mr
Leigh-Fox, your son, Adam,” she was determined to remind him
that he had more than one offspring, “received the news in good
time.”

“My dear Alexandra, I am afraid
you ladies are unaware of the disastrous timing of the announcement
of victory and what it means to “Foxhills”.” Father
Fox waved a copy of The London Gazette at Alexandra before throwing
it on the floor. “Wild and fast as he is, he’s had no
chance to satisfy the banks before the noon deadline. There will be
no honey.”

Snippets of information – the
situation was becoming clearer.

Charlotte, knowing Jack had already
forfeited his share of the “Foxhills” estate and there
being little of interest here for her, fidgeted and sighed loudly,
prompting Alexandra to respond, “Forgive me, Charlotte, I’ll
call for Millie. I believe Catherine is riding.”

While Charlotte was plied with cakes
and the last of the expensive tea, Jack was overseeing the loading of
the boxes into the curricle. “Bring the Leigh-Fox carriage
around to the front too, Johnson, and get cook to fill it with linens
from all corners of the house. Anything portable should be loaded.”

The moment Alexandra was dreading
arrived. Jack asked her for the key to the drawing room. “Key?
I don’t have the key; it’s never been given to me.”

“You lying little toad, I’ll
have your room torn apart if you don’t hand it over
immediately.”

Alexandra’s instincts were to
ignore him completely yet she answered, “I promise you, Jack, I
have never laid eyes on the key to this room.” The thought of
her writing sanctuary being invaded by this weasel had overruled her
feelings of disdain.

Jack thought for a moment. He then
shouldered the door with all his might, but to no avail. He began
rubbing his shoulder; he should have thought for longer, mused
Alexandra.

“Jack, Jack,” entreated
Father Fox. “This is no time to injure yourself. If Adam
returns in good time he will undoubtedly oblige us with the key, if
only to save some family treasures from our creditors’ hands.”

But Jack had turned his back and walked
out of the door while his father was addressing him. He returned with
two of the Carpenters’ footmen. “The door – break
it down,” he said indicating the drawing room. “Creditors
do not tarry. They will be here before Adam deigns to return.”

The contempt in Jack’s voice
goaded Alexandra. The two footmen rushed towards the door in unison.
Imperceptibly, Alexandra stuck her foot out from beneath her dress
and tripped up one into the other.

Jack swore at them so loudly that
Charlotte felt the need to make an entrance. “Jack, my dear,
cannot you wait for Adam? It is farcical to force one’s own
door for the lack of a key.” Her voice was as smooth as silk:
her eyes as hard as iron. “The Carpenter family does not
associate with the bankrupt, Jack. I wish to leave immediately.”

Jack declared she was right and it was
indeed prudent to leave immediately. “I don’t want my
good name tarnished.”

Not reformed, but perhaps tamed –
so long as she followed him everywhere.

Alexandra watched as they climbed into
the landau with its shiny yellow coachwork. Jack did not say farewell
to his father, nor to the few servants standing bereft in the hall,
nor did he remember Catherine, who now ran desperately through the
doorway to stand beside Alexandra on the front steps.

Two carriages had arrived, three
departed, well laden. Father Fox remained.

The witnesses to Jack’s departure
were unable to see or hear the approaching carriage but they heard
the voice of its driver. They also noticed the commotion it caused.
“Whoa, there!” Each carriage driver skilfully avoided a
collision.

Catherine and Alexandra climbed higher
up the steps to see what was happening. “Adam!” exclaimed
Alexandra. “Adam is back!”

“He’s in a phaeton!”
cried Catherine. Without waiting for an answer, both she and
Alexandra, lifted their skirts and ran. Father Fox sauntered across
the lawns, avoiding the crunchy gravel.

Adam, driving Holly hitched to the fast
phaeton, had pulled it across the path of the landau, jumped down and
was now holding the reins of one of the dappled greys.

“Drive on!” Charlotte
screamed at the driver of the curricle behind. “Drive on! Go
around.”

The coachman tried steering the
carriage between the trees lining the driveway and across the uncut
grass but progress was hindered by the overload of effects and the
many mole hills. The driver of the Leigh-Fox carriage, one of the
Carpenter’s footmen, was not sure whether to follow. The
curricle’s limited progress was halted by the arrival of Parson
Raffles. Leaning out of his carriage window, he quickly saw the need
to block the exit of the brimful curricle, and began waving his hat
wildly as he ordered his coachman across its path.

Adam, his chestnut hair tousled, his
cravat undone and top buttons open revealing the sweat of the day’s
exertions, was casting an eye over the contents of the landau. “You
are free to leave with your personal possessions. You have formally
relinquished your right to any additional assets, yet I see you are
making off with much of what constitutes Father’s home and my
inheritance.”

“You dishevelled dolt!”
yelled Jack. He leapt from the carriage and prodded Adam with his
finger. “I am saving your inheritance. The bailiff’s men
will be here before the end of the day so I cannot see that you,”
he prodded Adam again particularly firmly, “can object to one
of the family securing a few valuables before they arrive.”

Adam grabbed hold of Jack’s
prodding finger and forced it upwards and backwards. “Then I
thank you for doing that for Father and myself and I ask that the
other carriages now return to the house for unloading.”

“Unloading!” Charlotte
Carpenter screamed. “You think we are going to unload? You are
gravely mistaken.”

Adam ignored her, turned to his
doubting father and whispered in his ear. Whatever it was that Adam
said, his father took on an air of victorious rectitude and strutted
around the carriages pulling a couple of items out of the open
landau. He tucked them under his arm and made his way purposefully
back to the house. He turned to shout, with his other arm expansively
encompassing as much of the scene as he could manage, “Indubitably.”

Raffles, his scarlet-ribboned hat now
firmly on his head, billowed across the grass towards the assembly,
adding to the feeling of triumph by his glowing presence. Alexandra
was amused to see Martha waving out of the carriage window her
shining eyes above her nearly toothless grin.

“There will be no bailiff’s
men, Jack. The clue is the phaeton. I no longer have any creditors
who cannot be repaid. You will, therefore, return what is not yours
to take.”

All eyes were on Jack. Consideration
was an art he was still learning to practise and his response looked
as if it might be some time coming. After a quick appraisal of the
contents of their carriage, Adam assisted. “You may continue
your journey with all that is in the landau. The Carpenter servants
will drive the curricle to your new home after it has been emptied
here and Billy will take charge of our carriage and its contents.”
Noticing that his entire household, such that it was, was now
watching from either the steps or the stables, Adam beckoned to
William to drive the beautifully upholstered Phaeton. Raffles,
naturally, decided to return to his carriage and be driven the last
few yards to the steps of “Foxhills”.

Once all carriages, horses and people
were going in the allotted direction, Adam turned to Alexandra. He
produced a white lace parasol, opened it, held it high and handed it
to her. His words were simply, “Thank you for waiting.”
His eyes said ‘with all my heart I love you’.

Hide in Time ~ Anna Faversham

Dinner that evening was a very strange
affair yet undoubtedly enjoyable. Adam had asked Alexandra and
Catherine to ‘prepare a feast’. Catherine had looked at
her brother as if he had acquired a second head, her eyes fluttering
from side to side before she said, “A feast? We can only feast
upon what we have grown in the garden – vegetables.”

“So be it. Tell Mrs Lamb to be
imaginative.”

“Men!” Catherine had
responded with ill-concealed affection. “Absolutely no idea how
a household runs at all!”

Now here they were, filing in, one
after the other, to take their places at the table. Father Fox sat in
his accustomed place. Adam sat at the far end. Alexandra sat to his
left and Raffles to his right. Emmeline Carpenter sat on Father Fox’s
left and Catherine sat opposite her.

“You are all welcome.”
Father Fox began as if he were the Archbishop of Canterbury
addressing a distinguished congregation. Then, looking straight at
Catherine on his right he said, “Tonight we shall begin by
asking Parson Raffles if he will bless us with an offering of grace
before meat.”

Alexandra successfully prevented
herself from spluttering ‘meat!’ Does he say these things
on purpose? She reflected just long enough for her to realize the
significance of his addressing Catherine as if she were Raffles. That
was where Raffles should be seated – next to the head of the
household – and it was his way of chastising his son –
despite all that Adam had achieved for him. Cunning old Father Fox.

Raffles stood and clasped his hands in
front of him; he had such presence. He began with an intake of
breath. Oh no, not another speech. She wondered if he had read her
mind, for he simply said, “For the food you provide, the family
you grant and friendships made, we thank you. Share this meal with
us, we beseech you,” and sat down with a contented smile.

Irreverently, an unwanted image of Jack
ranting appeared to Alexandra. “Share it! Share what?”
She thrust it aside; he had gone now. Perhaps one day she would miss
his theatrical tantrums though she knew it was unlikely anyone else
would.

Raffles had brought Martha with him,
‘just on loan’ he said several times. He now pretended to
regret the decision because Martha, laden with a tureen of soup,
tripped. “Trumbles! I thought we’d lost the lot then,”
she blurted. “Beg your pardon, sirs.” She dumped the
dribbling tureen in front of Emmeline. “And misses too, beg
pardon.” Aware that her entrance was less polished than she’d
practised, she blushed, then caught Alexandra’s kindly smile
and grinned – she’d undoubtedly lost another tooth.

“Priceless,” murmured
Raffles to Adam. “Don’t you agree?”

“A treasure,” Adam
responded. “I have only to see that gappy grin to feel that all
is well with the world.”

“Tis carrot with floating herbs,”
said Martha.

Johnson had now arrived with a basket
of warm, fresh bread. “Carrot, garnished with coriander,”
he corrected.

“Much prefer Martha’s
description.” Adam’s stage whisper to Alexandra
dissipated all tension and she was no longer able to hold back her
laughter. The whole table erupted. Even Father Fox, still busy wiping
what might or might not be a splash of soup on his sleeve, looked up
and glowed.

An apology for a salamangundy followed.
“T’aint quite right,” said Martha as she placed
Billy’s Lazy Millie in the centre of the table and demonstrated
a spin. Father Fox flourished his handkerchief unnecessarily and
began wiping his sleeve again. “Mrs Lamb said there’s no
pickled herrings or such-like, but you’ve got some cheese
somewhere in there.”

Following the cider syllabub, a dish of
home-grown strawberries was served and Adam asked Johnson to assemble
all the resident servants in the dining room once they’d
finished.

“The dining room, sir?”

“All the servants, Johnson, here
in the dining room. Even William and Billy, it will not be
overcrowded, will it?” An eyebrow raised, a hovering smile, he
exuded charm and poise even when flouting all the rules.

“Sir,” said Johnson in
compliance.

“And bring in and light a full
candelabra for the sideboard.”

Adam spoke in the faintest of whispers
to Raffles, “To protect the reputation of my scholarly
Alexandra, nothing will be mentioned to anyone in terms of the
foundation of the fortune. Vague references to the rewards for
winning a war should stifle curiosity.”

“Indeed,” replied Raffles
gravely nodding his head. “Financial matters flummox the common
man; I myself confess to not having understood much of what you said,
nor Alexandra’s part in guessing who would win.”

Adam nodded gently, then smiled with
visible relief.

When the servants were all assembled
near the doorway, Adam stood up. Despite his not having had any sleep
for at least twenty-four hours, Alexandra thought she had never seen
him look so fresh. There was something about his manner that reminded
her of the highwayman. A shiver went through her and a pain deep
within grew – she could never lose this man, this gallant
cavalier who had brought to her verve and charm… Her thoughts
were interrupted.

“The outcome of the last few days
is known to some but I should like to clarify what the future holds
for “Foxhills” and those associated with it.” Adam
held up a copy of The London Gazette. “Wellington has had a
profound effect on our future.” His explanation was brief.

Alexandra was relieved he did not
elaborate as few could grasp the implications of a war won overseas
on the life of one particular household. Perhaps Billy was the
exception; his eyes shone – he had played a part in this
victory. Unbidden, the image of a slumped figure, squatting on a
pavement, flashed across her mind. The man looked like an older
version of Billy – please God, don’t let it be his
future. Of course it wasn’t. It was his past; he’d looked
rather like that on his arrival at “Foxhills”. Now he
looked so alive, as if he could take on any assignment and succeed.
He was as smartly attired as current circumstances allowed and she’d
noticed his polished shoes when he’d entered.