“Oh, I’m very well, thank you.”
Annabelle picked up the sampler and sat down beside her mother. “This is lovely,” she said, although Richard thought that a small child could do better work.
Eveline smiled for a moment but then her smile faded, to be replaced by fear.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Annabelle.”
“Oh!” Evelina smiled. “That’s my daughter’s name.”
“I know,” Annabelle felt as if she would choke on the words.
Eveline’s smile faded again. “Where is Annabelle?” she began to look around. “Annabelle! Annabelle! Where are you, darling?”
She got up and began to try and look for her daughter. Jones came to stand in front of her and caught her arms.
“It’s all right, Eve, Annabelle’s safe.”
“No, she was here just a moment ago. Annabelle! Annabelle!” She struggled and broke free of Jones’ grip. “Annabelle!”
Annabelle got to her feet and slowly walked to the door, trying not to draw attention to herself.
“You took her!” Eveline turned to Annabelle. “Where is she, where is my baby!”
Eveline ran at Annabelle, intending to strike her but Richard stepped between them to stop her.
“NO!” Eveline flinched away, protecting her head with her hands. “Don’t hurt me, please! I just want my baby. Why won’t you tell me where she is?”
Eveline fell to the floor and began to sob.
Richard stood there stunned by the complete irrationality of what he had witnessed. He saw Jones mixing a tea spoon of laudanum with some cordial and even when Annabelle put her hand on his arm, he couldn’t look away.
“Come on, we’d better go,” she whispered.
It took some force on Annabelle’s part but finally Richard began backing towards the door. As Annabelle shut the door behind them, his last glimpse was of Jones comforting a sobbing Eveline and offering her the drugged cordial.
When the door closed, he snapped out of his stupor and turned to Annabelle, who was herself blinking back tears.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realise what I was asking. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s not your fault,” she assured him. “Let’s have a cup of tea, shall we?”
They headed into Annabelle’s study and were quickly brought a pot of tea, which they sat in the armchairs by the fire to drink.
“The longer it goes on, the more of her memory she seems to lose and the more erratic her behaviour becomes,” Annabelle explained. “She hardly ever remembers who I am anymore.”
“But she remembers Jones?”
“Jones has been with her since before her coming out ball, they’re more like sisters now.”
“Why did she flinch when I stepped in front of you?”
“Father used to hit her sometimes. Not often but she was always a little nervous, it’s just a reflex now.”
“Does she often try to attack you?”
“Not just me. She doesn’t know any of us most of the time and that frightens her. I hardly ever go in to see her now.”
“Because it upsets you?”
“More because it upsets her. Jones takes the worst of it but she can handle Mother better than anyone. The rest of the staff never go in, they just knock and leave the tray in the hall. Jones keeps me informed of how she is.”
“What about when the doctor comes?”
“Jones gives her a little laudanum with breakfast on those days. Sometimes she has to be restrained but Dr Medway has a good bedside manner, so that’s not normally necessary.”
“I’m sorry, Anna.”
“It’s not your fault,” she smiled at him, “but I thank you for the sentiment.”
“I remember being taken to see my grandfather when I was young. It was terrifying.”
“I’m sure. I’m just glad that we don’t have any children around.”
“Have you considered an asylum?”
Annabelle didn’t want him to know about her financial problems so she told him a half truth. “I don’t want to take Jones away from her.”
“I can understand that.”
Annabelle put her teacup down. “We should get off to the coffee house,” she said. She got her hair pins from her reticule and began to pin her hair up, so practiced by now that she didn’t even need a mirror.
“I love your hair when it’s down.” He said, causing her to smile but for once, rather than blush. It wasn’t much but it was a definite improvement.
When she was finished, they headed off to the coffee house and Richard intentionally kept the conversation light.
“Perhaps I should stay with you,” he suggested suddenly feeling as if he was about to lose her. “Just for a few days, in case Frederick should come into the shop.”
“Thank you but it would be frightfully dull for you.”
“As long as it keeps you safe.”
“Honestly, I will be fine. I will have Frank with me and if it makes you feel any better, I will get Frank to do the deliveries each afternoon.”
“It would make me feel better,” he admitted.
“Thank you for everything, Richard.” Annabelle smiled.
The carriage drew to a halt and Richard realised that his time was up. From now on, he would have to compete with this blasted coffee house for her attention.
“Thank you, Annabelle; you made what would surely have been a tedious weekend, very enjoyable.”
The coffee house had run smoothly in her absence and Annabelle easily slotted back into life there, as if she’d never been away. She sampled the stew and two small slices of cake and whilst they weren’t made to her exacting standards, they were more than adequate. She thanked Ruth for helping out and let her return to the house.
She found that she was looking forward to cooking again tomorrow and had decided to add a few touches from the weekend to her work. For example, she wanted to see about getting a stamp made with the coffee house letters, WCH, so that she could brand the biscuits with it. She might also try a few more specialist cakes, such as the rolled sponge with raspberry jam. Still, for now she was happy to simply serve her customers. Today they knew nothing of the goings on in Hampshire but by tomorrow, she had little doubt that everyone would know of her confrontation with Frederick, and the gossip about Richard.
Today though, she was still the relatively anonymous coffee house owner and she wanted to make the most of that.
Chapter Seven
Annabelle had only just finished washing her hair when there came a furious pounding on the front door. She pulled a robe on and headed downstairs, to see that Sal had already answered the door to Billy Adamson, whose father ran the bakery next to the coffee house.
“I’m sorry, Ma’am,” he said when he saw how she was dressed. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t, she assured him. Now just calm down and come inside.” She took the boy’s shoulders and guided him into the hallway. He looked healthy for a boy of eight but he was still panting, so he had probably run the whole way here.
“Now tell me what’s wrong,” she said calmly once the front door was closed.
“Your shop, Ma’am.”
Her heart stopped for a moment. “What about my shop, Billy?”
The other servants had congregated in the hallway and listened intently.
“The windows, ma’am, they’re smashed. All of ‘em.”
Annabelle actually breathed a sigh of relief; she’d had visions of it being robbed or vandalised or worse, burnt down. Frank nodded at her and headed upstairs to his room in the servants’ quarters.
“We didn’t see right away,” Billy rambled on. “Only, we go into the bakery from the yard at the back, see and we stayed in the kitchen; wasn’t till we opened up the front door for the early customers that we noticed and I ran straight here.”
“It’s all right, Billy, you did well. Thank you for coming to tell me.”
Frank reappe
ared dressed and with his coat on. “I’ll go hitch the horse to the carriage and wait outside. I’ll come back for whoever isn’t ready.”
“Thank you, Frank. Now Billy, can you wait a few minutes for me to dress or do you need to get back to your father?”
“I can wait, Ma’am.”
Annabelle headed upstairs to change, Jones hot on her heels, whilst Minnie and Ethel headed to their rooms. Annabelle chose a simple dress that laced at the back, pulled on some boots and headed out, calling her thanks to Jones for her help. She pulled on a thick black cloak, caring little for how she looked right now, and headed out into the street, Billy following after her.
“Do you want to get off now?” Frederick asked as he held the carriage door open.
Annabelle nodded. “Please. You can come back for the others.”
Annabelle surveyed the damage and was pleased to note that it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. The large front window was divided into smaller panes, eight across and five tall. The window frames were fairly sturdy so it was only the small panes of glass that were broken. It wasn’t just her shop that was affected either, but many of the windows on the floors above had been smashed as well. It must have been someone throwing stones she reasoned, a suspicion that was later confirmed when she found large stones and broken bricks inside among the broken glass.
A small crowd was watching but it was too early for many people and of those who were around, most had places that they needed to be, so they didn’t linger for long.
Billy and Annabelle alighted from the carriage and Frank made to get down from his perch.
“No, go back for the others,” Annabelle instructed. “And bring as many candles and candelabrum as we can spare.”
Frank nodded and turned the carriage around to go back to the house. Annabelle unlocked the front door.
“Do you need any help?” Billy asked.
“Thank you but you’d better get back to your father,” she said. “Just wait one second.” They didn’t keep much money on the premises but they did keep some petty cash in her office overnight. She retrieved a shilling and gave it to Billy, then she grabbed a broom and headed outside to begin cleaning up.
By the time the others arrived, Annabelle had already knocked the rest of the glass shards from their frames and swept most of the glass outside. Minnie and Ethel took over the clean-up, then Annabelle gave instructions to Frank to find some wood and nails to board the windows up and when he was done, find a glazier to arrange for a quote, although she dreaded what it might come to.
She headed back into the kitchen to start cooking but once she was through the door and alone, she stopped and took a few deep, calming breaths. Her eyes began to sting with tears but she blinked them back.
She had no proof that Frederick was behind this, but she knew. It was just too much of a coincidence for her to believe otherwise.
Still, she had endured much worse, she could endure this too.
When she was sufficiently calm, she got the mixing bowls out and set about preparing the day’s baked goods.
She had been working for perhaps half an hour when there came a knock at the back door and she opened it to see the upstairs neighbour, Mr Braithwaite. He was in his 40’s, with salt and pepper hair and a kindly face.
“Miss Wyatt, how are you?” Mr Braithwaite asked. He was a wealthy merchant who had a nice country estate, but leased the house above the coffee house for when he needed to be in town.
“I’ve been better,” she admitted.
“You’re still planning to open?” he asked seeing the mixing bowls.
“The show must go on. I won’t let something trifling like this stop me.”
He smiled. “It seems your property did get the worst of it, I’m afraid. I suppose I’m lucky that their aim wasn’t terribly good.”
“Was there much damage upstairs?”
“No, just glass on the floor and a few stones. No damage at all to the top floor.”
“Do you know what happened? Did you or your staff hear anything?”
“My room is at the rear so I didn’t hear a thing, but my butler was awoken at 3am. He called out of the window and they fled.”
“They?”
“Yes, he said there were two of them. Anyway, I must be getting to the office now, I just wanted to inform you that the police have been notified and will be along later to speak with you. I’ve also instructed my butler to give you any assistance that you might need, so I hope that you will ask should you need any help.”
“Thank you, Mr Braithwaite, but I think we will be fine.”
“As you wish. The offer is still there should you need it.”
“Thank you.”
The morning was full of such interruptions. First the butcher’s boy delivered the pork and rabbit for today’s stews; he was followed by the grocer’s lad with vegetables and both boys enquired after how well Annabelle was doing. Then came the milk maid, who wanted to know all the details, then coffee house regulars wanted to come back into the kitchen to ask if she was all right. Next the police showed up and took a statement, not that she had anything to tell them. She didn’t mention Frederick because she was sure that if he was behind this, he would not have done it in person. He was immoral but not stupid.
At noon the glazier came to measure up and give them a quote and Annabelle hadn’t had a chance to bake the bread, nor even begun to frost the cakes yet, so she sent Ethel to the bakers to buy bread for that day and took the unusual step of banning any customers from the kitchen until further notice.
An hour later she was done and knowing that it couldn’t be avoided, she headed front of house to greet the regulars. The boarded-up windows cast the room into darkness but the ceiling chandelier had been loaded with candles and lit, each table had at least one candle and the counters held the larger candelabrum. The candlelight served to give the room a wintery feel, even although it was only early October.
Everyone wanted to know how she was and what had happened, so she had to retell the same story over and over. Today the lunch rush didn’t seem to ease, so Annabelle began cooking the evening stew early, which meant that she had to send Ethel out to the butcher for more meat.
The pressure piled up until she felt like screaming, but she somehow kept her frustration in check. She was still preparing the evening stew when she realised that the afternoon deliveries hadn’t been done. Other than Annabelle, Frank was the only one at the coffee house who could read, which meant that he was her only choice to do the afternoon deliveries, as he could read the orders and addresses. That meant that Ethel had to watch the cauldron and make the coffees whilst he was out.
Alone in the kitchen, she couldn’t help but finally cry as she chopped the turnips for the stew. She did manage to hold her sobs back but silent tears trickled down her face and fell onto her apron.
She knew she should be relieved that things weren’t worse; no one was hurt and there was no lasting damage done, but the damage to her bank balance was undeniable. She had only had the opportunity to glance at the glazier’s estimate but it wasn’t cheap. She had also decided yesterday that after the protection and help they had offered her, she couldn’t charge the Armstrongs for her services at the weekend.
She already knew that she couldn’t cover the additional fuel costs over the winter, now with the extra expense of new windows, plus God only knew how many candles until the glass was replaced, she could see that she had little choice but to pawn her sapphire necklace.
When someone knocked on the door from the main room (which Minnie and Ethel never bothered to do, being staff) she snapped.
“No visitors today!” she called, nonetheless wiping her eyes in case they came in anyway, which they did. She got up from the table and turned to them, ready to give them a piece of her mind, only to see Richard standing there, his expression warm and understanding and his arms held out towards her.
The last of her resolve crumbled then and she ran into his arms, violen
t sobs wracking her body.
“Ssh,” he soothed, guiding her from the small kitchen and into her office, where she could have some privacy.
She cried for quite some time and Richard continued to hold her, her head tucked under his chin, his hands rubbing the length of her back as he murmured soothing nonsense.
Finally her sobs subsided and she pulled away, searching her apron for a handkerchief.
“Here.” Richard handed her his.
“Thank you,” she said wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry about that, I just-“
“No explanations necessary,” he assured her.
“Well, as nice as it is to see you, I had better get back to work. I haven’t even-”
“Ssh,” he soothed again, placing a finger across her lips. “My cook and kitchen maid have come to help, they will handle the rest of the cooking for today.”
“Oh, no I couldn’t impose, I-“
“You aren’t imposing, Anna. If you think I’m leaving you here alone after what’s happened, especially since Frank isn’t out front at the moment, then you’re very much mistaken. And since I shall be dining here, it makes sense that my cook be here also.”
“But-“
“But nothing.” He cupped her face in his hands. “You aren’t alone in this anymore, Anna. Lean on me when you need to.”
She smiled and fresh tears sprang from her eyes, although this time, of gratitude. Richard kissed each tear way until Annabelle closed her eyes and he kissed her lips instead. She responded, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him against her. She deepened the kiss and he could sense an urgency in her actions that he hadn’t felt before.
When she finally ended the kiss, she didn’t pull away, but rested her forehead against his as she tried to regain some of her equilibrium.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice still husky with desire.
“I hope that kiss wasn’t a form of payment,” he said trying not to sound defensive. In truth though, he was a little stung that she hadn’t thought to tell him what had happened, he’d had to find out from a friend at lunch time.
“The kiss was for me,” she assured him. “The thanks was for holding me as I soaked your shirt.” She ran her hand over his shirt and waistcoat, which were both damp with her tears.
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