Hiding from Love
Page 6
The pouch contained close on fifty pounds.
She weighed it on her palm and then tucked it into her reticule.
She knew her action would be construed as theft, but she refused to feel guilty. As far as she was concerned, this sum of money represented the sum that Mr. Schilling had stolen when he sold her mother’s investment bond.
There was a whistle from outside the window and Leonora ran over and leaned out.
Finny waited proudly below. The trap beside him was drawn up under the window, its passenger-box packed high with golden hay.
“Finny, you are an angel,” whispered Leonora.
Lifting her bundle, she threw it down onto the hay.
She tightened the strings of her reticule round her wrist and then clambered out onto the sill herself.
Finny covered his eyes with his hands.
She swallowed, took a deep breath and pushed off.
She landed very safely in the middle of the hay and began to laugh elatedly as Finny rushed across.
“I’ve escaped, Finny, I’ve escaped.”
“Escaped?”
“Escaped from Mr. Schilling. He locked me in my mother’s room. I’ve been there for two days.”
Finny’s eyes were as round as full moons.
“Locked you in? Two days?”
“Finny, stop repeating everything, please. There is no time to be lost.”
She looked round her anxiously, half expecting Mr. Schilling to appear at any minute.
“I must get away.”
“I’m comin’ too,” insisted Finny quickly.
“Finny – I do need you to drive me to Bristol. But you’ll have to leave me there and bring the trap back.”
Finny’s lip trembled a bit, but he said nothing and began to brush wisps of hay from the passenger seat.
Leonora waved him away.
“No, leave it. I’ll ride beside you on the driver’s seat. You don’t want Mr. Schilling to see hay on the path.”
“Don’t want to come back at all if there’s only Mr. Schilling here. He locked you in, I don’t like him. I’ll beat him with an egg whisk!”
“I rather hope you do, Finny, except I don’t want you to get into trouble on my account. But come on – it would be dreadful if he caught me now.”
Finny tied Leonora’s bundle securely to the back of the trap, then leaped into the coachman’s seat.
The poor old horse, which ten minutes ago had been dreaming of the shade of his stable, found himself setting out again on a long journey.
Finny set him almost at a gallop.
They went the long way round, avoiding the village and taking side roads, encountering no one until they came out onto the Bristol road, where they fell in with a flow of coaches, hay carts and lone riders on jaded steeds.
Leonora clutched her reticule, her mind afire.
Her mother would be shocked to hear that she had run away and she must write to tell her that she was safe.
She would have to admit that she had told a white lie, but she hoped Mama would understand that it had been for a serious purpose.
She would also have to admit to her mother that she had taken Mr. Schilling’s money and explain why.
Finny broke in on Leonora’s thoughts.
“Why you goin’ to Bristol, miss? Why aren’t you goin’ Norfolk way, where your mother be?”
Leonora wondered how much she should tell Finny.
“There’s no room where my mother’s going,” she replied at last, “and anyway I want to go somewhere where I can work and pay back anything I have borrowed – ”
Finny looked concerned.
“If you need more, miss, I’ve got five shillings.”
Leonora looked at him gravely.
“Thank you, Finny. I shall not need it, however. I have enough for my – immediate purposes.”
“And what’s that, miss?”
“I intend to find a ship at Bristol that is sailing for Brazil,” she replied. “I’m going to visit my friend Isobel.”
Finny looked alarmed.
“Cross an ocean, what’s full of whales and water? What would you want to do that for, miss? Why?”
“Because I don’t want to marry Lord Merton – ”
“But any girl would want to marry a Lord!”
Leonora turned and regarded him.
“Have you ever seen Lord Merton, Finny?”
“I’ve seen his horse, though, tied to the gate when Lord Merton a-came visitin’.”
“Well, let me tell you, Finny, I’d rather marry the horse. It’s not so old and grizzled as its Master!”
Finny was too astounded at her admission that she would rather marry a horse than a real live Lord to say any more on the subject.
*
It was late in the afternoon when the trap reached the gates of Bristol Docks and Leonora looked about with interest as they drove through.
She directed Finny towards a long low building that she surmised correctly was the Ticket Office.
Finny waited in the trap while she went in.
The Office was nearly empty and behind the door a gentleman sat reading a newspaper, but her gaze was fixed nervously on the clerk behind the counter.
Leonora coughed and he regarded the young lady in front of him. He then glanced beyond her as if expecting to see a chaperone of some sort.
“I was wondering – whether I could book passage on a ship – ” began Leonora.
The clerk looked over the top of his glasses.
“Did you have any particular ship in mind, miss?”
“Well, any ship going to Brazil would do.”
“Brazil, eh? Are you travelling alone, miss?”
“I am,” admitted Leonora, colouring.
“What age are you?”
Leonora lifted her chin defiantly.
“Old enough to travel, sir! I am sixteen.”
The clerk seemed to consider.
“There’s a ship embarking for South America this evening,” he said at last.
“That’s wonderful!”
“It’s a cargo ship, miss. It takes passengers, but I should warn you that there’s no First Class.”
“Oh, that is quite all right with me,” said Leonora, secretly grateful that she would not be put in the position of having to reveal that she could not afford First Class.
She must conserve her small funds, since she had no idea how far they would stretch before she could secure employment at her destination.
The clerk picked up a pen to write out a ticket.
“Do you have much luggage, miss?”
“N-not much,” confessed Leonora, thinking of the sheet knotted at its four corners.
“And I presume your papers are in order?”
“My p-papers?”
“Your travelling papers, miss.”
It was something Leonora had not considered – had not even thought necessary. She stared in utter dismay at the clerk, as he slowly raised his head to look at her.
“Your papers,” he repeated.
“I-I am afraid I-I quite forgot them – in the rush of packing. Are they – essential?”
The clerk regarded her severely.
“Miss, you cannot leave this country or enter into another country without them.”
Leonora, in complete despair at seeing her plans so unexpectedly dashed, burst into unrestrained tears.
“You don’t understand,” she sobbed. “I-I must go to Brazil. There’s nowhere else for me now.”
She was aware of a slight rustle behind her as the gentleman by the door folded his paper and rose to his feet.
“I think I may well be of some assistance,” came his strangely familiar voice.
Leonora swung round, her eyes opening wide as she recognised the face before her.
It was that of Señor de Guarda!
*
The clerk regarded Señor de Guarda with interest.
“And how might you be of assistance?” he asked.
Before replying to him, Señor de Guarda took out a handkerchief and handed it to Leonora.
As he intended, she pressed it to her brimming eyes and so did not notice his next move, which was to take his wallet from his pocket and move closer to the counter.
“I might be of assistance to the tune of five pounds, for example,” he murmured pointedly.
The clerk ran his tongue over his lips and glanced at Leonora, who was still dabbing the tears away.
“I’m assuming the five pounds would require a few – um – stipulations to be overlooked?”
“Exactly. So what do you say?”
The clerk lowered his voice.
“I take it – you know this young lady, sir?”
Señor de Guarda shrugged.
“Certainly I do. You may be assured.”
“Well then, sir!” The clerk reached out and swiftly drew the five pound note from Señor de Guarda’s hand.
“I shall issue a ticket immediately.”
Leonora raised her head to Señor de Guarda.
“He is – selling me a ticket?”
“Of course. All you must do is pay for it.”
He stepped aside as Leonora rested her reticule on the counter and with trembling fingers she took from it the leather pouch embroidered with the letter ‘F’.
Señor de Guarda’s eyes settled on this for an instant before he looked away, whistling softly under his breath.
The clerk took Leonora’s money and then held up her ticket in an admonishing manner.
“When you reach Brazil, miss, you’d better tell the authorities there that you mislaid your papers on the ship. Or I’ll be in trouble for letting you aboard at this end.”
“I’ll do just what you say,” agreed Leonora, eagerly taking her ticket.
“The Teresa of the Sea sails at eight o’clock sharp,” continued the clerk, replacing his glasses on his nose.
Leonora, ticket clutched to her breast along with the pouch and the handkerchief, turned to Señor de Guarda.
“How can I ever thank you, Señor?”
“You can thank me by being an amiable companion on the long voyage,” he smiled.
“You are on The Teresa of the Sea as well?”
“I am,” he replied, opening the Ticket Office door and ushering her through.
Finny leaped down from the trap outside.
“You was a long while, miss,” said Finny, throwing a strange glare at Señor de Guarda.
Leonora explained that there had been a problem.
“Which this gentleman kindly solved for me. You remember Señor de Guarda from the Black Jack Inn?”
“I remember him,” mumbled Finny curtly.
He pointed at the leather pouch, which Leonora still clutched to her breast.
“What you doing with the Master’s purse? He’ll be cross if that’s gone.”
Leonora flushed crimson.
She quickly tucked the pouch back into her reticule, and as she did so, the handkerchief that Señor de Guarda had given her fluttered from her grasp.
“Oh, I’m very sorry. You were so kind to lend it to me. I am ashamed to say I was in sore need of it.”
“Don’t be ashamed, my dear lady,” smiled Señor de Guarda, picking it up. “Your tears were most charming.”
Leonora noticed that his gaze strayed to her reticule as if musing on its contents.
“You have been most kind,” she repeated, uneasily thrusting the reticule behind her back.
“Just how could I not come to the aid of a damsel – how do you say it – in distress? Fleeing her cruel father, perhaps – or an unwanted suitor?”
She gasped in alarm and he put a finger to his lips.
“I say nothing – nothing. Now you must excuse me while I go and collect my luggage from the hotel. We shall meet on board later. At supper perhaps?”
Leonora nodded mutely as he walked away.
“He’s a-goin’ over the ocean too?” asked Finny.
“Yes,” said Leonora, realising that she was not as pleased at this prospect as she had been a few minutes ago.
He had guessed too near to the truth for her liking.
Finny was scowling.
“I don’t like this, miss, come back home with me.”
Leonora shuddered.
“I can’t, Finny. Please don’t ask again. Just help me find the ship and then – you must leave and drive back to Broughton.”
Sullenly Finny helped her up beside him.
They drove around the docks until they located The Teresa of the Sea, a solid if undistinguished vessel,
Her hold was open and great lengths of steel were being lowered into its depths.
Leonora stepped down from the trap and started up the gangplank with Finny following her, the knotted sheet slung over his shoulder.
The gangplank swaying beneath her feet reminded her that she had never been on a long sea voyage before and she wondered if she would be seasick.
An Officer greeted her on deck and took her ticket. He examined it closely and then pointed aft.
Finny made to move, but the Officer barred his way.
“You can go no further unless you are travelling.”
Leonora turned.
Faced with the moment of truth, she was stricken at having to bid farewell to her last friend, her last link with home and childhood.
“Oh, Finny, I shall miss you so!”
“You oughtn’t to go,” he muttered.
“I must, I must! But let me embrace you!”
Finny stood stiff as Leonora threw her arms around him and then he turned round and made his way miserably down the gangplank.
On the quay he turned again and stared up at her.
She had to fight back an urge to run after him.
Then she hoisted up the sheet – too embarrassed to ask any of the porters to carry such strange luggage for her – and made for the cabin indicated on her ticket.
She threw off her hat and looked around.
The cabin was rather small but comfortable enough. There was a washstand with a bowl and jug, towels laid out and a writing table with a stool.
On the table was a pen, inkwell and writing paper.
Leonora clapped her hands to her head – she had intended to write to Mama while the ship was still in port. She should not have dismissed Finny, but asked him to wait so that he could post the letter for her onshore.
She rushed to the porthole and peered out.
Her cabin was portside and she could see the quay, but there was no sign of Finny.
Well, she must write the letter anyway, there would surely be a Steward who would take the letter ashore and post it before the ship sailed.
She sat at the writing table and took up the pen.
“Darling Mama,” she wrote,
“By the time you read this I shall be far away, but you are not to worry about me, please.
I am quite safe, on board The Teresa of the Sea and sailing to Brazil. My friend Isobel will look after me when I arrive. I am going to work as a Governess.
When I have earned enough to pay for your fare, I will send for you. I am sure you understand why I had to lie to you and why I have run away.
Please do not return to that dreadful Mr. Schilling and please do not tell him where I am.
I took his money, Mama, to pay my fare. He will tell you that I am a thief, but I intend to pay it back when I can – after all he stole your money without compunction.
As for Lord Merton – if you should encounter him, tell him nothing either. Except to take away those clothes he bought for me!
Your loving Leonora.”
She reread the letter, folded and sealed it, picked up her reticule and then stepped out into the corridor.
She peered at cabin doors as she hurried along, but most were closed, although one or two stood open.
In one a startled young girl looked up as she passed, catching a glimpse of a long bony face and pale hair.
&n
bsp; “Desirée!” a voice called from inside the cabin and the girl turned away.
On deck the Officer who had taken Leonora’s ticket agreed to send someone ashore with her letter.
“There is plenty of time,” he added. “We don’t sail for another three hours.”
Leonora returned to her cabin where she untied the sheet and stared down at what it had held.
Her mother’s dresses suddenly appeared to be old-fashioned and somewhat large.
She held them up against her with a sinking heart. She would need a needle and thread to take them in or she would be a laughing stock on board.
She sank onto the bed, a green dress in her hands.
She remembered this dress. Her mother had worn it years ago on the occasion of their one and only meeting at a hotel with Aunt Doris.
She recalled the elderly lady smelling of lavender water gazing down at her solemnly.
Even then Aunt Doris had talked affectionately of her sister’s son, Arthur, her sole heir, and described him as a handsome lad with a streak of wildness.
She lay back on the bed, holding the dress tightly as if this vestige of her mother and happier times might prove of consolation in the trials that surely lay ahead.
She closed her eyes aware of the slight movement of the ship as it lay at anchor, and then sleep overtook her wearied senses.
*
A strange sound woke her.
She thought it was the bellow of a bull. Then she realised it was the ship’s funnel!
She sat up and from the porthole she could see the quayside receding.
She must have slept for nearly three hours!
The ship was sailing and all of a sudden her recent resolution and courage deserted her.
She stumbled over to the porthole, aware already of a slight sickening rise and fall beneath her feet.
Lights were flickering onshore in the gloom.
England was passing.
Home was passing away. Mama, Finny, Fenfold – all were slipping away beyond the glass – all vanishing perhaps forever.
And that night – that wonderful night when she had danced with the masked gentleman – before she knew his character and before she knew his name.
Tears welled and spilled onto her cheeks. Leaning her forehead on the glass, Leonora began to weep.
She was so alone and the ocean ahead was so vast, so fearful to her.
Whatever had she been thinking about, to set out on such a journey?