Shattered Dreams (9 page)

She had
never been to a poor house before. They were just something she had
only vaguely been aware of having existed, but they had never
impacted on her life before, so she had never really considered
what they were all about.

Tilly
put her bag on the floor at her feet, and listened to the heavy
thump of the door being closed at the end of the long corridor.
Although she tried to remind herself that she was not a prisoner,
and this was no jail; it was an institution, and had a rather
controlled feel about it that made her feel somewhat
trapped.

It
didn’t help her feeling of imprisonment when the sound of doors
being closed echoed around the stone walls, were accompanied by the
distant rattle of keys. She hurriedly made her bed up with the
coarse sheets that were neatly folded at the end of the bed but,
unfortunately, without the light from the warden’s lantern, she had
no idea if it was made properly. Still, she had to get into bed
now, because she was going to cry, and already shook so badly from
cold that she had to get beneath the sheet and try to get dry, if
not warm, before she died from frostbite.

It
horrified her to watch her breath fog out in front of her face even
in the darkness, but there was no fireplace within the room, and
didn’t appear to be any form of heating in the building whatsoever.
What did everyone do when it came to the long, winter
months?

“
Hello,” a young voice suddenly whispered.

She
jumped up, and whirled around as she studied the shadows near the
doorway in search of the owner of the voice. To her surprise, a
young boy of about ten or eleven years of age stood in the doorway.
His grin was somewhat sheepish as he peered at her, but he didn’t
wait for her to beckon him in. With a quick peek out into the
corridor, he hurried inside and nudged the door closed behind him
before she could speak. He turned to her with a conspiratorial
smile, and held his hand out in a rather gentlemanly fashion that
was at odds with his age.

“
I am Zack; pleased to meet you.”

Tilly
smiled at him as she shook his hand somewhat officiously.
“Tilly.”

“
You are new here, aren’t you?”

In spite
of his bedraggled appearance, his accent was soft and cultured, and
she couldn’t help but be curious to know how on earth he came to
find himself in such a place as this. Aware that he still waited
for an answer, she nodded.

“
What do we do about candles around here?” she whispered as
she eyed the small stub he held in one grubby fist.

“
You have to earn them. Work hard, keep your mouth closed, and
you can trade things.”

“
But I don’t have anything to trade,” Tilly whispered with a
frown.

“
You have to work for your bed and food here. It’s not much,
but it is an existence. It is dry, and as cold as Hades in the
winter. You need to find something you can trade so you can get
shawls and the like. Thieve it if you don’t have a penny to buy
anything. Once you have got something, you can trade it for the
things you need. Try to get something that you can spread out. You
know, break up. That way, one thing can be broken down into several
things you can trade.”

Tilly
stared at him in horror as the realisation dawned of just how
desperate her life had become. Through the gloom, she watched him
nod toward the bag at her feet.

“
If I were you, I would break that bag up,” he suggested
wisely.

“
Trade my bag?”

Zack
shook his head. “No, break it up. Sell the metal work. It can be
used for buckles and the like. Nobody around here has use for a
bag.” He grinned at her. “No place to go, see?”

“
How long have you been here, Zack?”

He
squinted and peered at the wall for a moment before he shrugged.
“Three summers, I think.”

She
stared at him nonplussed for a moment. “Where are your
parents?”

A shadow
immediately fell over his face, and he stared down at his boots for
a moment. “I don’t know my dad. My mama died a while ago. One
minute she was alright, then they wouldn’t let me see her because
she had taken poorly. They buried her within a week.”

Tilly
shook her head in dismay. “I am sorry, Zack. So you are here all
alone?”

She
frowned at that. Why hadn’t he been sent to an orphanage, or
something? Why keep a young boy, without parents, in a poor house?
He couldn’t have run up any debts himself. Surely, if his mother –
who owed the debts – was now dead, the debts died with
her?

Although
the poor house provided Zack with a roof over his head; life here
was hard, and offered very few luxuries, if the lack of heating was
anything to go by. Someone like Zack should be in an orphanage at
least, where he could be with people his own age, and at least
learn the skills he needed to take him through his
adulthood.

A shiver
of unease swept through her as she studied him carefully. In the
distance, she could hear the heavy thuds of doors being slammed
closed. Unless it was her imagination, they seemed to grow closer
and closer with each minute that ticked past.

Zack
nodded into the corridor. “I have got to go now. It is lights out.
Keep the stub, if you like,” he grinned at her, and placed the
candle carefully onto the cold stone floor beside her
feet.

“
Are you sure?” she asked.

“
Yes. Besides, I nicked another one from the governor’s office
yesterday,” he added cheekily, without any hint of guilt or
regret.

She
shook her head at the pride evident in his voice. “Thank you. It is
very kind of you.”

“
Just tell them -” he nodded toward the door, “- that you
traded it for something.”

He
studied her bag for a moment, then looked her up and down. He
tugged one of the buttons off her dress before he turned toward the
door. He grinned when she gasped and stared at him in
outrage.

“
You have to trade,” he warned her in a sing-song voice
moments before he sashayed into the darkness of the
hallway.

Once he
had disappeared, she stared down at her dress in disbelief; then
hurried to the door to call him back, and demand the return of her
button. To her consternation, apart from a warden, who was busy
locking all of the doors, there was nobody else around.

“
Lights out,” the man growled when he noticed her.

She
immediately ducked back into the room and closed the door behind
her. When the door suddenly rattled, she spun around, and stared at
it in horror as the lock was suddenly turned from the outside. She
could see the top of the warden’s head through the small bars in
the middle of the door, but he didn’t look at her as he secured her
into her cell-like room for the night.

For the
first time in her life, she wondered if this was what being a
prisoner felt like, and suddenly wished that she hadn’t even
contemplated coming anywhere near this hellish place.

Living
under a bush; even in the barn of the busy coaching yard; anything
was better than this. She was thankful for Zack’s candle, but
studied the small speck of wax, and knew that she needed to
preserve as much of it as she could if she ever wanted to be able
to see anything in this blasted place.

She
settled into bed, still fully dressed, and stared at the ceiling.
It was horrifying to lie there and listen to the man lock the
doors, because now she felt truly trapped.

First
thing tomorrow morning, she was going to get out of here, and pay
her dues. Then, she would decide what to do with the rest of her
life.

With
that promise easing her doubts and fears for now, Tilly settled
down and tried to find some way to get warm.

She was
there; hidden in the shadows beneath the cedar tree on the front
lawn. Her eyes were wide with fear as she stared helplessly at him.
Her silhouette was encased in a soft white mist that swirled
hauntingly around her, higher and higher it crept, until she
started to disappear from view.

He tried
to reach her, but couldn’t get his feet to move fast enough. His
chest heaved as he tried to run as fast as he could, but unseen
hands held him back.

A cry
escaped him when he saw the tears that streaked her face. He wanted
to help her. He needed to help her. If only he could get to
her.

The
darkness was going to swallow her any moment now, and he couldn’t
stop it.

“
Come back,” he called when she turned around and started to
walk away. “Come back, I will help you.”

She
didn’t turn around and, within seconds, vanished into the
mist.

Harry’s
eyes shot open, and he stared blankly at the canopy above the bed.
His heart pounded in his chest, which heaved with exertion as he
waited for the fog of his nightmare to disappear. His heartbeat was
loud in his ears, but he couldn’t focus on anything other than the
haunted look of helplessness that had been in her eyes when she had
left his house earlier that afternoon.

Although
he knew that she wasn’t going to be there, he climbed out of bed
and made his way to the window which overlooked the front lawn.
Nothing stirred. Moonlight bathed the garden in an eerie glow, but
there was enough light to know that she wasn’t there.

He knew
she wasn’t there, and couldn’t possibly be. He knew exactly where
she was; and that left him deeply unsettled.

The
coolness of the glass against the fevered skin of his forehead did
little to settle his thundering heart, but he remained where he was
for a moment while he tried to get his thoughts into some semblance
of order.

Even
through the gloom he could see the tall, dark outline of the
building on the horizon, and wondered how she was. He hated to
think of her being in such a desolate hovel, even for one night,
especially while the Dandridges’ were asleep comfortably in their
nice, warm beds; beds he himself had provided.

He had
already discussed what had happened with Barnaby. They had agreed
that first thing tomorrow morning, they were going to pay a visit
to the poor house, and would not leave without Tilly.

When he
did turn around, he eyed the bed with keen disinterest. It was
futile to try to get any more sleep; his desperate need for a
brandy was more than he could ignore. He snatched up his breeches
and made his way to the door.

He
quietly made his way downstairs, but didn’t bother to take a candle
with him. On the day he had moved in several months ago, he had
learned the layout of the house until he knew it like the back of
his hand, and could traverse the hallways with his eyes closed. It
held him in good stead tonight, because he was able to pour himself
a brandy, and take a seat before the now cold fire in total
darkness.

Guilt
weighed heavily upon his shoulders as he slumped into the chair. He
took a deep slug of the brandy and sighed, but even the shadows
reminded him of her.

It was
then that he realised that he didn’t want her back so she could
stay in the servants’ quarters. As far as he was concerned, she
wasn’t a servant, or even a housekeeper, it was as simple as that.
Something deep inside him balked at the thought that she should
wait on him hand and foot. It didn’t seem right to him that someone
so beautiful, so gentle and innocent, should spend her days mired
knee deep in cooking, cleaning and running a household; even a
relatively quiet one like his.

When he
did get her out of the poor house, he had to ensure that she
remained at the Rectory as a guest. He just had no idea how to
convince her of that while he tried to keep her out of his
investigation. If he had her stay upstairs, Star Elite or not, her
reputation would be in ruins because she was a beautiful, single
female, and he was an eligible bachelor.

Strangely, the thought of having to marry her to protect her
reputation was more intriguing than repulsive. In some ways, he
rather hoped that it really would come to that in order to keep her
safe, because it would sort out a heck of a lot of his current
problems in a very short space of time.

A sudden
creek outside the door drew his attention. He remained perfectly
still as he listened carefully to the sound of someone creeping
around, and knew that Dandridge was up and about. The very faint
thud of the servants’ door being closed was all he needed to
hear.

Harry
silently put his glass down on the rug beside him and crept into
the hallway.

Unsurprisingly, the door to his study was slightly
ajar.

Was
Dandridge after the Rectory seal, so that he could send yet more
forged letters out in his name? Or was the devious butler after the
contents of the safe?

From his
hiding place next to the door, Harry watched Dandridge begin to
rifle quietly through the contents of his desk drawer before he
turned his attention to the shelves that lined the wall. When
nothing of use was found, Dandridge turned his attention to the
safe, which contained the truly valuable paperwork and, of course,
the seal.