Hide in Time

by Anna Faversham

  Alexandra tried to pre-empt what she was sure would be coming. She wanted to entreat, ‘Why? She’s not good enough for you. You don’t have to do it,’ but all she could do was place her hands across her lurching stomach. Nothing in his eyes prepared her for what followed.

  “Raffles has had a growing affection for you. He is convinced that Providence has sent you and he wishes to ask for your hand in marriage.”

  Alexandra clutched the arm of the sofa and, involuntarily, her other hand covered her mouth. Not at all what she was expecting and not at all the reaction she should have liked to give. Within a few seconds, she composed herself, though no words would come.

  “If you were to give him some encouragement, he will offer you a comfortable home, he has a good living and, as you know, he is a man of integrity and can lighten and endow his clerical duties with considerable wit.”

  Alexandra was still shocked. “I…”

  “He had planned to ask you himself but his courage deserts him. You do not need to give me an answer – just show some encouragement to Raffles.”

  “Do you need me to marry, Adam? I would rather you allow me to contribute to the household expenses. You have refused…”

  “No, Alexandra,” he smiled oh so bally tenderly and then as if to stick the knife in further, he flashed a broad smile.

  It was in that moment she knew she loved him. She had tried to do otherwise, but she loved him till it hurt. Tears began to fill her eyes. Couldn’t they just run away together? Leave Raffles to marry a God-fearing woman well versed in scripture?

  “No, you do not need to do that. Nor would I wish you to. I cannot hide from you that Jack is the cause of our troubles and it is Jack who must be prevailed upon to change his ways.”

  Alexandra pondered the idea of Jack changing. He was robbing his family of everything of value. He seemed to have few redeeming features and it was clear that no marriage could be arranged for such a dissolute and increasingly impecunious rake. She stopped to ponder her expression – such words would make a good description of a villain. Her thoughts on writing had distracted her. She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at Adam. How could she tell him that he dominated her thoughts?

  “Raffles was impressed by your writing. You will remember how affected he was and how he drew the audience’s attention to the moral lessons contained within.” Adam paused to look carefully at Alexandra. “He believes you would be a great asset to him as a wife. Many a parson’s wife writes the sermons. Do you not see yourself as a major influence in the lives of his parishioners?”

  “Do you, Adam?” There. She had given him a chance to declare himself – or at least to give direction to her thoughts.

  “I believe you would be one of the most effective teams the church has ever known. A mighty force for God and for good. And there is a good deal to be said for Providence having sent you.”

  Alexandra looked overwhelmed.

  “Foremost though,” Adam persisted, “marriage is about the love of one man for one woman and its reciprocation. Together they create a haven from which many people can draw strength to go out into the world at large and offer a clear direction to those who have lost their way.”

  A tear trickled down Alexandra’s cheek. She had misjudged this man. He was all good. And she had snubbed him consistently since that night she saw him in the village. Had she been mistaken?

  “If you do not feel you could come to love Raffles, I would counsel that you ought not to marry him.”

  The vision of pipe-smoking Father Fox shaking his head, producing two columns of smoke rings, floated before her eyes.

  “I cannot encourage Raffles’ attentions, Adam. I regret any encouragement I may have already offered him. I had thought of him as a true friend and I should not wish to lose the fellowship we all share.”

  “That is all you need say, Alexandra. I shall convey your high regard for him but indicate that you do not wish to marry and that he should seek a wife elsewhere.” He paused just long enough to give weight to his next words, “It is important that you do not call him by the familiar ‘Raffles’ then, whatever he may say. You must revert to giving his office full respect.”

  Alexandra understood. She wished she hadn’t asked to call him Raffles; she remembered she often seemed to have difficulty adapting to preferred manners after banter with Billy. “I shall not be any hindrance to his finding a good lady helpmeet. Please convey to him I am honoured that he should ask. I truly am. I do indeed have a high regard for him. But…” She almost added ‘I love another’.

  Hide in Time ~ Anna Faversham

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  After dinner that night, both Alexandra and Catherine excused themselves from repairing to the sitting room. They slipped up the stairs to Alexandra’s room and awaited Billy’s signal.

  “You’ve done this before, haven’t you, Alexandra?”

  “Oh Catherine, I should be able to say ‘no’ but that wouldn’t be right.”

  “Aren’t you afraid?”

  “I ought to be, I know, but I’m not. Perhaps you shouldn’t come, Catherine?”

  “Oh I wouldn’t miss this spectacle, Alexandra. It sounds fascinating. Adam would be furious though.”

  “You will be quite safe, Catherine. Billy is well able to take care of us.”

  A low whistle drew them to the window and Billy beckoned them to come down. With cloaks wrapped around them, they tiptoed past the sitting room; no need to worry about the men wandering around the house just yet – they’d be drinking port. Slipping out via the morning room door, they followed Billy to the stables where he helped them on to their respective mounts. Billy prepared to walk beside them.

  “Take old Polly,” Catherine suggested to him.

  “No, Miss Leigh-Fox. I could not do that. It’s not far and I can move pretty fast and unseen in the dark.”

  Indeed he could and it was not long before the party arrived at the edge of town, close to the tavern. “Hide yourselves in that clump of trees, Miss Mulberry, and I will arrange for the men to give you a display like you’ve never seen before.” Billy punched the air.

  Catherine and Alexandra tied their horses to one of the trees, wrapped their cloaks around them tightly, and sat on the damp ground. “We shouldn’t stay long,” Alexandra said. “Just long enough to see if we’ve made a difference to their lives.”

  A group of six peg-legged men emerged from the tavern and took up their rehearsed formation to the right of Catherine and Alexandra. Another half-dozen old soldiers held lanterns at intervals along the road. Billy, having acquired a drum, gave a roll and the display began. They all scooted forwards together, gathering speed along the dirt road until they reached the designated turning point. Alexandra could see they had their wooden pegs inserted into a hollow scooped out by Billy. Then one by one they scooted back, demonstrating their skills and clearly enjoying themselves as they stamped their peg-legs on the back of the wheel-boards causing them to fly up so they could catch them and give a bow.

  A crowd had gathered to watch and there was much applause for their antics. It was clear that none of them had consumed too much drink, as Alexandra had feared. Then, gathering in a V formation in front of Alexandra and Catherine, Billy sounded the drum roll, and with one accord they shouted, “Thrash the frogs. On to victory.” Alexandra stood up, clapped and cheered, and Catherine enthusiastically followed her example. The old soldiers turned, triumphantly stamped on the boards again and caught them, then gave three cheers to Alexandra.

  “We must go,” said Catherine beginning to shiver. “Will Billy escort us home?”

  “He will,” said Alexandra signalling him.

  “Why don’t you tell Adam, Alexandra? He’d be so proud of you.”

  “Yes, I’m wrong to keep it quiet. I’ll show him what Billy has made and he can come and see for himself that it ‘enables the disabled’.”

  “He probably knows already; there isn’t much that escapes his notice, Alexandra.
”

  “Hmm, I’d wondered about that. Your father is also more aware of matters than he makes out, is that no so?”

  “Indeed. I am so proud of them both.”

  Billy helped them mount their horses and they turned towards “Foxhills” leaving the lantern lights behind.

  “Worked well, Miss Mulberry. They all say it’s not practical for generally getting around on these roads, but it’s good to have something they can carry, put down, and get up a bit of speed when possible.”

  “So inventing one things means you need to attend to another,” Catherine said thoughtfully.

  “That’s progress, I suppose, Catherine.”

  “Or jobs for the working man,” added Billy. He shrugged his shoulders as if to say, ‘some hopes,’ and walked ahead slowly, taking a different path to the route they had come by. “It’s easier for me to escort you if we go via Wells, Miss Mulberry, and only the one, short, steep climb.”

  Catherine responded quickly, “Then that is the way we shall go,” she said moving ahead of Alexandra. “I have often wondered what the village looks like of an evening. Do they have lamps glowing in the windows?”

  How comforting it must be to be innocent, Alexandra thought. The memory of Adam visiting a village girl’s house at night returned to displace her feelings of being, finally, useful. “Their candles are extinguished quite early, Catherine.”

  “I presume it is to save money,” Catherine said in a matter-of-fact manner.

  Billy, still jogging ahead, turned to say, “Save money! They haven’t got any money to buy the candles in the first place, and when they’re low on tallow fats they can’t even make any.” A cautionary look from Alexandra cooled his anger and he quietly added, “Anyway, they’ve all got to get up early next day.”

  “Of course,” said Catherine feeling humbled.

  Alexandra knew how Catherine would be feeling, after all, had she not made many naïve assumptions herself? She sniffed the air. “Catherine, can you smell the smoke? Some villagers must be cosying up around glowing embers – smell.”

  “Cosying up?”

  Drat, thought Alexandra, I just seem to make matters worse. “Oh I just imagined a young couple sitting in front of a dying fire together and feeling warm and cosy together.” She refrained from mentioning that the whole room could be full of smoke if the wind was strong; poverty was not at all romantic.

  Catherine took a deep breath. “Why yes. Cold, biting air outside: warm comfort inside. A sense of security together.” Alexandra sensed Billy’s dismissive response which, thankfully, he kept to himself. Sometime in his mysterious past, he must have known a lot about life.

  At last, the track widened as it came into the village. Instead of allowing the riders a little more room, Billy caught hold of Catherine’s reins with his right hand and cautioned them both to be silent. Black, caught off-guard, whinnied.

  “I can’t be sure,” said Billy, “but I think someone is scrambling up the far bank.” He turned to look at Alexandra, and shook his head.

  “I’ll go after him,” said Alexandra wrenching the reins from Billy.

  Billy caught hold of her leg, preventing her from spurring Holly forwards. “’scuse me, Miss Mulberry. I can’t allow that. You’re in my care.”

  Try as she might, Alexandra could not free her leg from the firm grip of Billy. Holly became unsettled and Alexandra gave up. “Ok, you win, Billy, but let go of my leg.” Catching sight of Catherine’s startled face, she whispered, “Forgive me, Catherine. Billy and I understand each other. It is I who owe you both an apology as we did promise to stay within his care.”

  Holly and Black settled as, with firm hands, Billy led them forwards. “Stop here, Billy,” said Alexandra as they drew level with the cottage where she’d previously found money hidden. She dismounted and cautiously moved the box on the doorstep; there was a single gold sovereign. She replaced the box, mounted Holly with assistance, and with a heart as heavy as a thousand sovereigns, she followed Billy and Catherine who both seemed to be awaiting a comment. None came.

  The horses ably climbed the steep slope and, as they came in sight of “Foxhills”, Billy said, “I’ll keep watch as you trot on home, Miss Mulberry. You’d best be silent as ghosts or you’ll be in trouble.”

  “Thank you, Billy,” Alexandra said. She wanted to shake his hand, hug him in gratitude – but it wasn’t good form. She’d unsettled Catherine rather too much already and now she could see Catherine was shivering. “Nearly home. Let’s go.”

  To add to the downturn in the evening’s events, it began to rain. Although Billy had left the wrought iron gates unfastened, when they reached them they were locked. “I’m so sorry, Catherine. I should not have led you astray. Please forgive me. I know Adam will be cross if he discovers our exploits.”

  “I’ve never had such an adventure and I’d risk it again any time. Perhaps I’ll wait for the summer though, as I am very, very cold.”

  “Wet through too. Stand close to the wall, Catherine. It will grant a little protection.”

  The rain and their predicament spurred Billy to run. “I’ll get the key from the stables. This is mischief,” he said indicating the locked gates.

  This is Adam, thought Alexandra.

  Billy hoisted himself onto Holly, the taller and steadier of the two horses, then stood on the saddle and clambered over the wall. He uttered an oath as he landed. “He’s fallen onto the rose bushes,” said Catherine looking very worried.

  When he returned with the key, Alexandra took a quick look at a prickly shrub that had been badly damaged. She tried to improve its appearance, scratching herself badly. Blood oozed from her hand. Drat, she’d no handkerchief. She grasped Holly’s reins and ran to catch up with Billy and Catherine. Just as she rounded the corner at the back of the stables she slipped and fell. What more could go wrong? Billy helped her up immediately and she brushed the mud from her bloodied hand. “Looks nasty, Miss Mulberry. Promise me you’ll get that cleaned up right away.”

  “It’s only a scratch. I’ll rinse off the mud and it’ll be fine. It’s Catherine, I’m worried about.”

  “Get her inside, ’n’ take her wet clothes off,” Billy said clutching Holly’s reins. “Hurry. She’ll need a hot drink and a warm bed fast. Nip of brandy too, if you can get your hands on some.”

  Alexandra could not stop herself from whispering, “Billy, will you check the other horses and see if one of them has been out?”

  ~

  The following morning, Millie brought Alexandra her breakfast at the usual time and squealed, “Miss Mulberry, wake up, please.” She put the tray down and surreptitiously shook Alexandra and, as the sleeper stirred, Millie plumped up the pillows. “Miss Leigh-Fox is not well. She says to tell you she is staying in bed this morning.”

  Alexandra thought that was a very good idea; it had been a tiring day and, for Alexandra, ultimately distressing. It might be wise for her not to follow Catherine’s lead, though. Both of them arriving down late might arouse suspicion.

  “She doesn’t look well,” said Millie with her best meaningful look being lost on the distracted Alexandra. But as Alexandra began to toy with her breakfast, a niggle worked its way into her consciousness – suppose it wasn’t just a ploy? Suppose she was feverish?

  Once dressed, Alexandra decided to check on Catherine herself. She was propped up in bed and snuffling. “Only a chill, Alexandra. Nothing worse.” Alexandra sat on the side of the bed and felt her forehead. “You’re a little warm. Here, let me plump these pillows up for you and I’ll ask Millie to come and attend to you.” Catherine leant forwards, Alexandra pulled the pillows into shape, and Catherine gratefully sank back – and sneezed.

  “Definitely a chill, and we should take great care of you. I’ll be back soon.”

  ~

  A few days later, their fortunes were reversed. Alexandra was the one in bed.

  Hide in Time ~ Anna Faversham

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

&nbs
p; 2010

  Laura switched on her computer, sat back in her chair and stared out of her office window. The weather was typically February – cold, grey, drizzling, and infecting all with gloom. Last month had been awful with snow nearly a foot deep. She’d even had to cancel an event. Matt told her it had been one of the worst winters for decades. When she’d first arrived in the twenty-first century she’d seemed to catch every snuffle going. Not any more, though it was at this point she became aware of her nagging sore throat again. It had been hanging around for about a month and a cough was developing so she’d called in at the pharmacy yesterday to ask for something to make it go away. How very fortunate to live in these days of instant cures. Well, in comparison… They’d sold her a spray and suggested she see her G.P. Braces and belt, as Matt would say. Or was it the other way round? She knew there couldn’t be much wrong, not while she still could laugh at herself for attempting to master the many nuances of the modern English language. She telephoned for an appointment and was reassured to get one later that morning. That swine ’flu was still around so it was better not to put it off.

  She hung her jacket on the coat stand and put on the cosy alpaca wrap that Matt had bought her for Christmas and snuggled into it, fastening it across her left shoulder with the brooch he’d also given her. That’s better, stylish enough, should an unexpected client call, yet warm and comforting. Summed up Matt really. Others found him aloof but that’s because they didn’t know him. She took a quick glance at the photo of Adam stored in her desk drawer, now in a silver frame; he had been misjudged too.

  She began to feel warmer and sat behind the desk, ready to start work. Her desk was unusually clear; the cold and snow had discouraged people from getting out and about and wanting to meet others. Her computer had warmed up too and she checked her emails. Ten jumped through. She wondered what the correct terminology was; there were so many more words now than in the eighteen hundreds and so much more to learn. Such fun. The coffee machine was frothing and spitting and the aroma of coffee drew her to the little kitchen. Returning to her desk to start the day’s work, she was cheered by the sight of one from Carrie, Matt’s friend. ‘Wake up and smell the coffee,’ she’d said last time she saw her, whatever that might mean. Laura inhaled; the coffee smelt good.