Hide in Time

by Anna Faversham

  Adam began to read it aloud. “This letter is to introduce to you Miss Alexandra Mulberry.”

  Raffles could not contain himself. “We were right! Her family name is tooled on her bag.”

  “Miss Mulberry has been most unfortunate in the loss of her family, and this was followed by the loss of most of her property and possessions in a devastating fire.” He paused to glance at Alexandra before continuing. “She is extraordinarily talented; a silversmith and maker of fine jewellery.” Adam paused. "Some unusual accomplishments, Miss Mulberry." He then moved quickly on to the third sheet with a short explanation. “There’s some rather personal details here which is why I am led to believe it is from someone who knows me well.” He looked perturbed, clenched his fist, but continued, “If you can find it in your heart to give this young lady a home, you will, I am sure, have not a single regret…” he paused before continuing quietly, “any more.” Again, Adam looked puzzled. “Did you have a cousin?”

  Xandra shook her head slowly. “I am not aware of any.”

  Adam continued to read aloud. “Miss Mulberry has been educated to a very high standard and has been living in a part of the world which might be regarded as foreign. It may be, therefore,” he waved this last sheet in the air, “We shall never know what ‘may be’,” he said resignedly.

  “Nevertheless, it does answer a few questions in my mind,” said Parson Raffles. “Perhaps, one day, your memory will return, Miss Mulberry.”

  Adam, still sitting in the armchair alongside Xandra, turned to her and said gently, “Has your memory been prompted at all?”

  “I wish I could answer in the affirmative, Mr Leigh-Fox, I truly do, but I can’t.”

  “Fret not, Miss Mulberry,” Adam replied. “I am coming to the conclusion that a poor memory is one of the keys to happiness.”

  There was a moment’s silence before Parson Raffles enquired cautiously, “No recollection of a fire?”

  Xandra shook her head again, lowering it as she did so, then raising it to say, “My name, Alexandra,” she paused before continuing, “fleetingly I thought I recognized it. I believe my mind will enjoy playing tricks on me. I even have a strange feeling I’ve seen you before, Mr Leigh-Fox, or a portrait perhaps.”

  Adam’s eyes widened and for a moment he looked as if his composure might be at risk but he recovered well with, “As we feel we may know of each other, I should be pleased if you would call me Adam. There will then be no doubt as to your status or of my being confused with Father.”

  Alexandra thought she heard him add, ‘Heaven forbid’, and this was reinforced by the slight pursing of lips and raised eyebrows displayed by Raffles.

  Endeavouring to maintain the required formal civility before allowing the rules to be relaxed, she reciprocated, “I shall be pleased if you will call me Alexandra.”

  Raffles smacked his lips but had no chance to voice his thoughts as Adam had already leapt up and pulled the bell-rope. “Forgive me, I appear to have let my curiosity over-ride my courtesy. I’ll call for some refreshment.” He returned to his seat at Alexandra’s side and took a long, inscrutable look at her.

  She was staring at the hearth. “I seem to have lost not only my memory but everyone and everything I surely loved.”

  Hide in Time ~ Anna Faversham

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Alexandra. Alexandra. Alexandra. She turned the name around in her mind; it felt so good to know her given name. Alexandra Mulberry. Verifiably from a good family. With an interest in fine jewellery. Not of the serving classes. Would she have minded if she were? Probably not. Life was possibly more interesting… No, what about books? Servants had little time to read books. In fact they probably couldn’t read. She wondered if the butler could read. Was there a butler? She’d not noticed. What was really frightening though was whether the memory of her own life would ever return. She had felt sure it would; now doubts were intensifying.

  Alexandra stood looking out of the window of the room that had been declared ‘hers’. It had been prepared for her so quickly. It was at the top of the stairs, turn right, then left, and follow the corridor to the one which overlooked the garden at the back of the house. It might be embarrassing to accidentally enter another room. She turned to admire the exquisitely pretty décor again. The walls were cream, blue and grey, cloud-like in effect. The same palette was applied throughout the room. She fingered the cream and blue Chinoiserie curtains with their striking dark blue borders, and wandered across to the large bed with its crisp, white cotton pillows embroidered with little blue butterflies. Butterflies – they’d always remind her of her first meeting with Adam Leigh-Fox. She liked his name. Looking up she noticed the matching Chinoiserie fabric hanging in pleats above the headboard. It was all that she might have designed for herself.

  Her bag had been placed on the matching Ottoman at the end of the bed. As requested, it had not been unpacked. She could procrastinate no longer. She must find out what was in that strange, clear, odd-shaped and funny-feeling material inside her bag. “VacPack,” she said aloud with a feeling of triumph as if she had just remembered a French verb from schooldays. “It’s called a VacPack. And my holey shawl is a poncho and the knee breeches I have been wearing are called capris.” Alexandra sat down on the bed and said quietly but triumphantly, “I am not going mad.” It seemed, just as the letter had said, as if she had arrived from a foreign country. She vaguely recalled the feeling of visiting France when she was younger. She had still thought in English most of the time but had to speak in French and where she couldn’t find the right words she’d spoken in a combination of the two. “Franglais,” she announced, immensely reassured; it described her current situation well.

  She opened the clasp on her bag and gently pulled and manoeuvred the VacPack. It contained items of many different colours. Remembering how a VacPack worked had deserted her and it took a while before she was able to congratulate herself on opening it. The first thing that came to hand was a long petticoat. Crumpled. Dreadfully crumpled. As she withdrew the compressed contents, she was pleased to find pretty clothes – things she could wear for dinner that evening. She pulled the cord for the maid she’d been assigned and gave her the two silk dresses, the petticoat, the shawls and the little burgundy velvet thing that looked as though it would never be fit to wear.

  “If you would attend to the dusky pink shawl and pale pink silk dress first and return them to me immediately, Millie, I shall have something respectable to change into. Then I’d like you to show me the bathroom.”

  Millie, no more than fifteen years old, bobbed nervously and, with surprisingly small, perhaps nervous steps, ran out of the room. Alexandra thought Millie was rather young and inexperienced to be a ladies’ maid but she dismissed the thought and continued, with increasing curiosity, to unpack the rest of her bag. She tried on the delicate, pink leather shoes and, yes, they were definitely hers, for they fitted well. There was sufficient underwear for a few days, cotton and comfortable and quite unlike the lacy little knickers she was currently wearing. There was a timid knock on the door. “Come in.”

  Millie took just a step into the room and, in a high-pitched voice, squeaked, “Beg your pardon, Miss Mulberry, the water will be ready very soon and Miss Leigh-Fox has sent you this gown to wear to the bath.”

  “Thank you, Millie. I will undress as soon as I have finished unpacking.”

  In a leather pouch were several diamonds of different sizes. Thank heavens that highwayman had not investigated further in her bag. In another larger leather pouch were coins. Twenty gold sovereigns – no wonder the bag was so heavy, she thought. And guineas too. And some smaller coins. What relief. She was not destitute. There was also a note. What did it say?

  “Please give the guineas to Adam Leigh-Fox, in recompense for the expenses he may incur.”

  And if that was insufficient, perhaps she could earn her keep? She was, the letter had said, a maker of fine jewellery and she’d brought some tools with her – they wer
e lying in the bottom of the bag. Quickly she replaced the contents of her bag and, wrapped in the robe, she went to look for the bathroom. Millie was standing in the corridor, holding open a door. Alexandra entered eagerly. It would be wonderful to have a bath. The bath, a large, green cast iron tub had been filled with steaming water and smelled of lavender. A free-standing rail carried white cotton towels and a jug and bowl stood alongside. Millie seemed to be waiting.

  “Thank you, Millie. That will be all.”

  Millie closed the door and walked towards Alexandra. “I’ll take your gown, Miss Mulberry, if you step in. And you must tell me how you like your hair washed and dressed.”

  ~

  “Welcome to our home. Welcome to our happiness.” Benjamin Leigh-Fox seemed to look through Alexandra as, with otherwise impeccable manners, he bowed low to greet her.

  Alexandra realized, with some embarrassment, that she was last to enter the dining room. The bathing exercise had taken much longer than she’d thought possible. She fervently hoped she had not kept them waiting. She curtseyed low to compensate for her tardiness.

  Gesturing vaguely towards his right, Mr Leigh-Fox said, “My eldest son, Jack, is accustomed to sitting at my right hand.” He sniffed and appeared to want to say more but thought better of it. Jack bowed courteously yet his smile was marred by his look of inspection rather than welcome.

  “Adam sits at my left. You have already been introduced.”

  Adam smiled warmly.

  “My daughter, Catherine, sits next to Jack and you may sit next to Adam. Since my beloved is no longer with us, the other end of the table is,” he paused, “empty.”

  Alexandra had been reflecting their greetings by what she considered to be a mini curtsey and she did so for Catherine too. Hers must have been the face at the window.

  A liveried footman assisted Alexandra to sit. It felt as if the curtain was about to rise, the stage set, the director commanding, and she was one of the players. Benjamin Leigh-Fox, who had been seated first, brushed an imaginary stain on his velvet collar with his fingers, then, not satisfied with the result, began to search for a handkerchief. The play inclined to farce when, finding one, he dipped it into the glass of water that had been poured for him and began dabbing. With a flourish of the handkerchief, he appeared to think he had achieved his aim, and put it back in his pocket. Jack groaned, Catherine blushed, twirled her napkin around her finger and mentioned that the water came from the local spring. Adam said, “The grace father; will you say it or shall I?”

  As there was no response, Adam began, “Lord, we give thanks…” but he was interrupted by an almost inaudible cough from Father Fox (as Alexandra had decided to call him). Adam stopped and his father, who had clearly perfected the art of sotto voce, began.

  “Trust and be steadfast, whatever betide thee; only one thing should ye ask of the Lord, grace to go forward wherever He guide thee, simply believing the truth of His word.” He continued for some three minutes more.

  It was the longest grace Alexandra had ever known, and she heard very little after the first few sentences which she dwelt on – had he directed them at her? There was no mention of food. Long past blessings and petitions for the future formed the basis of his monologue. She wondered if he trod that fine line between genius and insanity. Jack fidgeted. The reward for the word “Amen” finally being said was for each of them to receive a whole boiled potato on their plate. All except Jack began to eat. “For God’s sake, Father, cannot you let Catherine take charge of the table?”

  “Blasphemy, Jack, blasphemy,” said his father serenely. “You mean, of course, for your sake,”

  “Of course, I mean for my sake,” hissed Jack. “Catherine is soon to be seventeen. She would have been capable to meet with the housekeeper – if Adam had not felt obliged to relinquish her services.” Jack paused, then grinned mischievously as he said, “It hadn’t hurt to flatter her a little,” then angrily added, “he’s no right to interfere.”

  Catherine shifted uncomfortably. “I should be pleased to meet with cook for you, papa. May I meet with Mrs Lamb on Monday mornings?”

  “You are too young, Catherine. It is not becoming for a young lady not yet out.”

  Adam intervened. “Perhaps Alexandra might accompany Catherine and assist with the conduct of the household?” Adam glanced towards Alexandra with a smile, “Mrs Lamb, a fitting name for a cook, don’t you think? She would probably welcome more guidance and recognition of her once redoubtable skills.”

  As if Adam had not spoken, Father Fox enquired of Alexandra, “Are you out?” All eyes settled on her.

  Again, Adam interposed. “I would not doubt that she is out,” he said with a wink to Alexandra and a broadening smile.

  “Oh for God’s sake, take this plate away,” Jack said gripping his knife handle with his fist and banging it on the table and glaring at the nearest servant.

  “Jack, please remember we have ladies present,” said Adam calmly but with an unmistakable note of command. “We can discuss this later. For the moment, try to remember your obligations.” Finishing the sole potato on his plate, he turned to Alexandra. “I hope you will forgive us. So tell me, your room, I trust it is comfortable?”

  “Eminently so, thank you,” she responded with warmth. How engrossing this all is, she thought. Not only a player, she was also the audience.

  The next course arrived and was placed in front of each diner. A small sardine, complete with head and tail, sat alone on the large white, unadorned plate.

  Jack, still gripping his knife, slammed it down, stood up, excused himself curtly, and walked out.

  “Since Laura departed…” began Catherine faintly, but she lost heart and blushed, and Alexandra did not quite catch what she’d said nor discern what she had intended.

  Adam swiftly called one of the servants, quietly directed him and within a few silent, awkward minutes, an apology for a salad arrived on a platter and was placed in the centre of the table. Other dishes followed, though none was properly displayed. Even a bowl of fruit arrived.

  “Father is rather ahead of his time,” said Adam to Alexandra. “He prefers to have one dish served at a time, whereas the rest of society prefers a selection of dishes.” Adam turned to his father and said, “Forgive me, father. I think your fashion needs a little more thought before we oblige our guests to take a leap into the future, for you are certainly right in knowing how things should and may be done.”

  Alexandra wondered if Adam could possibly mean what he said. She looked at him and there was a hint of a smile and a definite wink to Catherine. Thank goodness. Father Fox said not another word throughout the meal, though periodically dabbed at his collar with the handkerchief, now wine-soaked as he mistook one glass for another. In between bouts of dabbing, he drank his wine and smiled paternally at all, though he ate only from one dish at a time. Without Jack, and with Father Fox absorbed by his thoughts, Adam, Catherine and Alexandra were able to enjoy something approaching a normal conversation until Catherine whispered across the table to Alexandra that it might be time to leave the gentlemen to their Port. Alexandra thought she heard Adam murmur, “While we still have some.”

  Father Fox and Adam stood and Alexandra followed Catherine into the sitting room. Catherine was a pretty girl with shining dark hair dressed in loose curls. Quite small in every way, but then everyone she’d met seemed small apart from Adam and the parson. Her affectionate nature showed when she took Alexandra’s hand and pulled her towards the sofa as she said, “Sit here next to me and tell me of your adventure with the highwayman.”

  Alexandra thought for a moment. It was all rather odd, like a dream you have when you wake up and doze off again. She could remember the emotions but what else was there to say? “It seems a little hazy now.” She hoped that would be sufficient.

  “Oh do tell,” said Catherine eagerly, “Parson Raffles had so little time when he came this morning.”

  Alexandra looked at the eager Catherine and yi
elded. “Ah yes, I remember. At dusk, the road passed through some woods and it became quite dark so the coachman stopped to light the lamps.”

  “What was he like?”

  “The highwayman?”

  “Yes, yes. I’ve heard about him before. It used to be said that the highwaymen had all succumbed to the force of law and travelling by coach is safe now. Then this rogue appeared – though it is said he never harms a lady.”

  Alexandra looked at Catherine. Her face was flushed with excitement. Perhaps she didn’t get out much and had to live vicariously. Alexandra thought for a little longer then plunged headlong into the exciting tale of “The Handsome Highwayman.” It was all true but a good tale can be made better in the telling.

  “So did you see his face?” Catherine’s animated features begged Alexandra to say ‘yes’.

  “I could see his dark eyes – he’d taken good care to conceal the rest of him, but his confident bearing told me he was handsome.”

  “Life in ‘Foxhills’ is never exciting,” Catherine said pulling a despondent face.

  “Not exciting? I found the dinner tonight rather interesting.”

  “Oh you wouldn’t if you had to put up with such behaviour every night. ‘Wild’ and ‘Mild’ papa calls them.”

  Alexandra laughed. “I shall be so tempted to call them that. I expect it annoys Adam.”

  “No, he used to be amused by it,” Catherine said. “After grandpapa died, and a year or two of scolding Jack, papa seemed to give up, only passing comment from time to time that Jack is so like mother. I think he favours Jack in memory of mama. But I don’t remember mama being like Jack at all; she made you feel better for having been with her. Quite an exciting lady. She rode well and enjoyed society. Jack looks like mama, I grant, but I think Adam is more like her whereas Jack is always flouncing out and sometimes isn’t seen for days.”