Stowaways in the Abbey

by Elsie J. Oxenham

  “We guessed that, but it’s marvellous to know,” Jen cried.

  “Odd, to find the whole story like this, just by chance,” Jack remarked.

  “I’m jolly glad I brought the locket and purse back, instead of sending them by post,” Jen exclaimed. “You might never have remembered about the pictures, and we’d never have seen them.”

  “I don’t agree that it was by chance,” Sir Keith said. “If Miss Jen had not had so much courage and honesty, I should never have been sufficiently interested in her and her friend Katharine to think of those old pictures.”

  Jen grew scarlet. “That’s terribly nice of you,” she said earnestly. “I didn’t want to come, but I’m jolly glad I did.”

  “You will go home now,” Sir Keith said, “and you will tell the new owner of the Abbey about the pictures. If she would like to hang them in the Abbey, and if she will guarantee their safety, I will hand them over to her.”

  “They’ll be perfectly safe in the refectory,” Jen said, her eyes shining. “The precious Abbey books and manuscripts are there, and some of Lady Jehane’s jewels. How frightfully bucked Joan will be! May we go and tell her at once? I feel I can’t wait a second!”

  Sir Keith glanced at his watch. “Yes, it would be as well. I have work to do and I must not be too late. It is obvious that I shall not do the work while you are here.”

  Jen coloured again. “We’ve been dreadfully interrupting, I’m afraid. Have we spoiled your afternoon?”

  “I have not yet found the papers I came to fetch. But the afternoon has not been without interest,” he admitted. “Ask the caretaker to give you tea before you go.”

  “If you don’t mind, we’d rather go home for tea. We’re late already,” Jen explained. “May we have one more look at the pictures, now that we know they really are the Abbey church?”

  “By all means.” He had turned back to the desk and was examining papers once more. “Good-day, for the present. Perhaps we shall meet again.”

  “Good-bye! And thanks, just terribly much,” Jen said fervently.

  She stood beside Jack, gazing at the picture of the outside of the church. “It had a bell-tower. I was wondering if there’d been a bell, when I was in the Abbey the other day, just before—I say! I never said a word about Timothy Spindle! When he gets my letter he’ll think me quite batty!”

  “Don’t interrupt him!” Jack cried. “He’ll never find his papers if you start off again! He’ll hate you like anything!”

  But Jen was already at the library door. She opened it a few inches and put in her head. “Sorry! But there’s something else. I wrote a letter to you this morning. It’s in the post; you’ll get it to-morrow. You’d think it so odd, if I didn’t say anything about it.”

  Sir Keith looked up, the papers he was seeking in his hand, annoyance in his eyes. The frown vanished at sight of the small face framed in yellow plaits, peering at him from the door. “You wrote to me? But you didn’t know me.”

  “No, I wouldn’t have been so scared about doing it if I had. I felt terribly bad, but they all said I must do it. It was about Timothy Spindle.”

  Sir Keith laid down the papers, satisfied that his work was done. “Come here, little Miss Jen. Who is this Timothy—what did you say?”

  “Spindle. One of the Spindle family from the village; the blacksmith, you know.” Jen came and stood by the desk, her eyes full of reproach. “Timothy works in your house in town; he’s your boot-boy. Don’t you know him?”

  The baronet’s lips twitched at the surprise in her tone. “I leave the servants to my stepmother. No, I can’t say I know Timothy, but it is evident that you do. How has that come about?”

  Jen drew a long breath. “He ran away, and he came here and took refuge in the Abbey. His sister works for Mrs. Shirley. I found them in the Abbey, and I thought we’d have to protect them, because of its being a sanctuary. But Joan said you and the police and other people wouldn’t care about that now, and that we must give him up to you; but that we must try to help him to make a fresh start, and that the only way we could bring back the old rights of the Abbey was by helping anybody who came there in trouble, even if we couldn’t protect them. So I wrote to you, to ask you to give Timothy Spindle another chance. He only took two shillings, and he’s fearfully sorry. He’ll never do it again.”

  Sir Keith grasped one point in the breathless story. “You say this Timothy ran away from my house?”

  “He was frightened of Mr. Simmonds. You know him, I suppose?”

  “Simmonds!” There was no mistaking the anger in Sir Keith’s voice. “I have had to dismiss Simmonds for dishonesty. He left me yesterday.”

  “Oh, cheers!” Jen did a wild war-dance before his astonished eyes, ending with a somersault in the middle of the floor. She looked up, flushed and dishevelled, but bright-eyed. “Do you mind? I only do that when things are too marvellous for words.”

  “Jen, you are awful!” Jack was watching in horror from the doorway.

  “I am glad to hear you don’t do it continually,” the baronet remarked. “May I ask what it is that is so marvellous that you have been driven to express your feelings in this extraordinary way?”

  Jen sprang up and came to his side again. “That Mr. Simmonds has gone, of course. Timothy was so frightened of him. Now it will be all right. I expect it was Simmonds who had been taking Mr. Kenneth’s things. It wasn’t Timothy.”

  “Was Timothy accused of stealing my brother’s goods?”

  “Mr. Simmonds said he did, but he didn’t do it, you know. He took two shillings, because he saw them lying about and he wanted to go to the pictures, but he’s sorry and he’ll never do such a thing again.”

  “And you want us to give him another chance?”

  “You will, won’t you? If that man’s gone, Timothy will get on all right.”

  “Very well. Because of your interest in this boy, I will give him another chance. Tell him to come back, and to come to see me on his return. Now I beg you not to have another attack of delirious excitement.”

  Jen choked down her shout of joy, but could not quite keep back a chuckle of delight. “I won’t do it again. Thank you so much! It’s really frightfully decent of you. I think you’re just terribly kind. I’ll tell Timothy, and I know he and Susie will love you for ever; Susie’s his little sister. As for Joan and Joy, I don’t know what they’ll say! You’re giving Joan her church; she’s always longed to have a picture of it. You’re giving Joy a new ancestor—my Katharine Marchwood. And you’ve given me my locket, and all the story about it. Aren’t you glad you came here to-day?”

  Sir Keith smiled grimly. “You mean, you are glad, don’t you?”

  “Oh, of course we are! We’re all tremendously glad and thrilled. But it’s marvellous for you too, to have made everybody so terribly glad you came. Now Jack and I must simply fly home. I’ll send Timothy back to you. Thank you so very much!” and Jen fled, leaving Sir Keith a little breathless.

  “Not by any means a wasted afternoon!” he said to himself, as he rang for Jenks to help him to the car.

  CHAPTER XVIII

  THE FOOLISHNESS OF JOY

  “Now we’re going to tell everybody!” Jen shouted exultantly, as she raced homewards with Jack. “Joan and the pictures—Joy and her ancestors—Timothy and Mr. Simmonds—and me and my locket! Oh, what a day! Aren’t you glad we went back, Jacky-boy? Suppose we’d run away and that had been the end of it?”

  “I thought you were mad, but I suppose you weren’t,” Jack admitted. “I say, there’s Joan looking for us! Hope they haven’t sent out search parties!”

  Jen gave a whoop. “It’s not Joan—it’s Joy! That’s not Joan’s room. Joy must be heaps better! Come and tell her about her ancestors!”

  They ran across the lawn and up on to the terrace. Joy was leaning out of her window, wrapped in a big coat; she shouted and waved to them.

  “Such a joke! Nursy thinks I’m safe in bed. But if Joan can talk through the window
, why shouldn’t I? Glad to see you, Jacky-boy! Nice of you to keep Jen company. Must have been frightfully stale for her. Have you been having a picnic on the hills? Wish I’d been with you!”

  She was flushed and excited by this change in the routine of her illness, and she pushed back the loosened red hair from her hot forehead.

  “Joy, ought you to have the window open like that?” Jack asked anxiously. “You have to be so careful after measles. I’ve heard Daddy say so.”

  “Joy! Joy, what do you think? We’ve found such a marvellous story!” Jen shouted. “Who was Peregrine’s wife? Ambrose’s ‘falcon,’ you know. Guess, Joy!”

  “Gosh!” said Joy. “Have you been unearthing things without me and Joan? Well, who? And how did you find out? Buck up! Nurse may come and catch me any second, and she’ll raise the roof. Told me not to stir out of bed.”

  “I should say you’d better go back jolly fast,” Jack said bluntly. “The sun’s off that window, and there’s a good bit of wind. Jen, don’t talk to her. She shouldn’t be there. It’s frightfully risky.”

  “Joy, do go back to bed!” Jen took alarm at Jack’s tone. “You were much worse than Joan, weren’t you?”

  “My dear kids, I’m boiling! I shan’t catch cold. Where did you find out about Peregrine? And who was his wife? I didn’t know he had one!”

  “Katharine Marchwood, the girl who wore my locket. We’ve been at the Manor. There’s a picture of her. Please go back to bed, Joy!”

  “Oh, that’s rot!” Joy exclaimed. “The highwayman stole the locket a hundred years ago. Peregrine lived before Cromwell.”

  “I know. It’s all right. It was handed down in the Marchwood family as an heirloom, but it belonged first to your new ancestress, Peregrine’s wife, Katharine. They were married in 1600; she was only fifteen. I’m to keep the locket for my lifetime, and then it’s to go back to the Marchwoods. I’ve been making my will!” Jen cried in triumph.

  “But, I say——”

  Jack caught Jen by the arm. “Come on! She can’t talk to you, if you aren’t there. I’m sure it’s dangerous. You’ve told her all that matters; now she can think about it in bed. Come into the house, Jen! It’s the only way to stop her talking.”

  Jen surrendered and went indoors with her. “Do you really think it’s risky? It would be awful if she made herself worse.”

  “Frightfully risky,” Jack said firmly. “There’s a wind, and I’m sure she’s still feverish. She’s a perfect idiot.”

  “Oh, I say!” Jen looked anxious. “I wish she hadn’t done it. Good thing we didn’t stay any longer!”

  “I hope we didn’t stay too long. The nurse ought to know; she might be able to do something to drive out a chill, if Joy took any cold.”

  “We couldn’t give Joy away,” Jen began. “They’d row her dreadfully for getting out of bed.”

  But Jack was a doctor’s daughter and had heard many things. She looked up defiantly. “Well, I’m going to do it, sneaking or not. Even if you all hate me for ever, I’m going to tell the nurse. It’s not right to lie low about it; it wouldn’t be fair to her. She’s responsible, and she’ll be blamed. I’m going to tell her at once.”

  “Jack, are you sure?” Jen hesitated. “Joy will be terribly upset.”

  “And I’m a visitor, and they’ve been awfully decent to me.” Jack bit her lip and went towards the staircase. “I hate to make trouble. But I simply must do it, for Joy’s sake. Just because they’ve been so nice to me, I can’t let Joy run a risk and not warn somebody.”

  She sped up the stair, looked along the corridor, and then went to the door of Joan’s room. “Nurse, are you there?”

  The nurse came out, much astonished. “What are you doing here? You aren’t supposed——”

  “I’m sorry,” Jack interrupted nervously. “But Joy’s been hanging out of her window, talking to us—we couldn’t stop her—and there’s a wind, and she was all hot and red. I’m sure it was dangerous. I thought you ought to know.”

  With an exclamation the nurse closed the door and went along to Joy’s room. “Go downstairs. Don’t frighten Mrs. Shirley. I’m glad you told me. Why did you let her talk?”

  Jack went soberly back to Jen. “She’s upset. I thought she would be. Joy is an ass!”

  “You don’t think she’ll be ill again, do you?” Jen exclaimed.

  “If she is, she’ll be a lot worse than she was last time. Perhaps my telling the nurse will be some use. Let’s forage for supper, as we’ve missed tea! Then we could go and bowl at a stump, and we’d be out of the way.”

  “I don’t feel like cricket,” Jen said unhappily, when they had wheedled an early supper from cook. “It would be so awful if Joy was ill again. You’ve made me feel bad about her.”

  “It wasn’t our fault,” Jack urged. “She was hanging out of the window before we were near the house. She must have been looking to see if we were anywhere in sight. We sent her in again as quickly as we could.”

  “I know. I’m glad now you told Nurse. But I’m worried. Auntie Shirley told me that Joy used to be delicate,” Jen explained. “She was bothered about her from the first.”

  “I hope it’s not her chest. People get pneumonia after measles, and it’s a beastly thing,” Jack said gloomily.

  “Well, I can’t play cricket until we know. I couldn’t bowl straight. You put up a stump and have some shots at it; I’m going into the Abbey. Now that I know what the church looked like, I shall always see it when I go to that corner of the garth. I can’t tell Joan till to-morrow.”

  “You could send a letter,” Jack suggested.

  “No, I want to tell her. It’s too thrilling to be wasted in a letter.” Jen took up her jersey and set out for the Abbey.

  “I’ll come,” Jack said. “It’s no sport bowling on one’s own, and I don’t want to think about Joy.”

  They were both burdened as they crossed the lawn. But on the garth Jen put her troubled thoughts aside.

  “It wasn’t our fault, and you’ve done all you could to help. Now about the great church!” She went towards the gap which led to the site where the church had stood, then pulled herself up sharply. “That’s silly! The church was here, looking down on the garth. That wall is only put there to make it look as it used to do, an enclosed square place. That side of the garth would be the church, with those lovely windows looking down on it, over the cloister roof. The cloisters went all the way round, in those days. It’s up there, above this wall, we have to imagine the church, not through that gap. If you go through into the field you’re inside the church.”

  “Weird! But that’s so, of course,” Jack agreed.

  “There are bits of the old pillars, and the altar. The field is the inside of the church, though I never had quite that idea before,” Jen confessed. “The door of the sacristy led right into the church; it’s the vestry, you know. And the dormitory door and window opened into the church too. All that was the church; it didn’t just stand over there somewhere. It will make the garth different for ever, to feel those big windows are looking down at it, opposite the refectory windows.”

  Jack looked round and nodded. “It must have looked quite different. Jolly of your friend Katharine to have the pictures done for us!”

  “It will be marvellous to have them hanging in the refectory,” Jen said wistfully. “Then the tourists will be able to imagine the church too. Sir Keith’s an old dear. And I was so scared of him! I say, Jack! There’s one thing we ought to do.”

  “What’s that?” Jack demanded.

  “Find Timothy Spindle!” Jen gave a shout of triumph. “To tell him about Mr. Simmonds!”

  “Sure thing! And to give him Sir Keith’s message. He’ll be fearfully bucked.”

  “Come on!” Jen whirled away towards Mrs. Watson’s rooms. “Timothy ought to know at once! Mrs. Watson! Timothy! Where are you?”

  “He’s gone out, Miss Jen,” Ann Watson appeared at her door. “I sent him down t’village on an errand.”<
br />
  Jen’s face fell. “Oh, what a blow! I want to speak to him terribly badly. We’ll wait for a few minutes, in case he comes back.”

  “Does Mrs. Watson come from near where you live at home?” Jack asked, as they wandered on the garth. “Sometimes she talks quite like you did when you first came; not just the same, but here and there she sounds like you.”

  “I know. But it’s not Yorkshire. She comes from farther away; Joan told me about her—Cumberland, she said. But Mrs. Watson’s lived in London, so her accent isn’t there all the time. Sometimes you hear it and sometimes you don’t.”

  “That’s like you, too,” Jack remarked. “I hope that boy will come soon.”

  “There’s Grace, from the house!” Jen exclaimed, as a maid appeared at the end of the passage. “She’s looking for us. I hope there’s nothing wrong!”

  She raced to meet the girl, remembering the morning when she had been sent for to see the doctor and to hear that the Abbey Girls had measles.

  “I hope—it couldn’t be—Grace, do you want us?” she cried.

  “Mrs. Shirley wants you to come at once, Miss Jen. You’re needed at the house.”

  “Needed! Come on, Jack!” and Jen dashed off down the tresaunt, leaving Grace far behind.

  CHAPTER XIX

  AN ANXIOUS NIGHT

  Jen caught Jack’s arm, as they reached the lawn. “That’s the doctor’s car. Nurse has rung him up. Oh, Jack! What if Joy’s really ill?”

  “She may only want him to look at Joy, just to be on the safe side,” Jack said stoutly. “Very sensible of her.”

  “If Joy’s ill again, just when we thought it was all over——!” Jen wailed. “What do they need us for?”

  As they reached the terrace Mrs. Shirley came to the door. “Come here, Jen. The doctor wants to speak to you.”

  “To me? But why? What can I do? Oh, Auntie Shirley, you do look worried! Joy isn’t really ill, is she?”

  “Now, my dear, I want to know all about this.” The doctor spoke with kindly firmness. “What has Joy been doing?”