Hide in Time

by Anna Faversham

  Adam considered, and Laura felt he was probably thinking exactly as she was. Why was this man giving such emphasis to his words? Had he valued Adam's tip-off to such a great extent? Who was he? Why was he so very certain?

  Laura followed Adam from the coffee shop, somewhat concerned by what this Nathan had said. She relaxed – he must know more than he was letting on. Adam hailed a sedan chair and asked to be taken to his stockbroker. Laura watched until he was out of her view; she had seen him for the last time. She turned to face the opposite direction. Matt deserved to have a wife without missing toes or, God forbid, invisible feet.

  She hurried across the bridge and found the coach from Southwark to Canterbury. She peeked inside, there were already three passengers seated, but room enough for her. It would be a long journey, probably stopping overnight at The Bull in Rochester. It was imperative to think about the future and not the past. The past had been dealt with. She had put things right. She looked down at her foot and said aloud, “I must think of the future for my foot’s sake, I must… well, put my best foot forward and – oh no that’s corny – stop it, Laura.” Her laughter turned to tears. She shook and sobbed.

  One of the passengers alighted saying she’d catch the next coach. Another lady passenger attempted to take her place but changed her mind when a second lady also hurriedly descended the steps from the carriage. Still Laura sobbed and her tears only subsided when Parson Raffles, of all people, climbed aboard jovially proclaiming that God moves in mysterious ways and loudly thanking the ladies who had vacated their seats. “Appointment at the cathedral,” he explained to the one elderly gentleman remaining.

  Laura hoped he meant Rochester and not Canterbury – he took up so much room – though it had to be said he was excellent company. This afternoon his spirits were higher than ever and, after the briefest of introductions, he chattered away to the other passenger, a Mr Brown, as if he’d known him all his life. Laura’s interest grew and her tears subsided.

  “Wind’s picking up,” said Parson Raffles. “If it’s a westerly it’ll speed our journey.”

  “Delay news from the battlefields though. Ships will be forced to tack.”

  “I have followed the news until a few days ago when the joy of my forthcoming marriage ousted it from my mind,” Raffles said with a smile. “To realize one is to be married comes but once in a lifetime.”

  “My congratulations to you,” responded the other man heartily. “From good family, is she? Needs to be of good breeding to carry out a parson’s wife’s duties, I would say.”

  “Oh yes, she understands duty.” Parson Raffles sucked in his lower lip. “I’m sure she will grow to respect all that is required.”

  “When you say you realized you are to be married, what, pray, did you mean?”

  “Ah, I have yet to ask my dear Emmeline.”

  “Good God!” exclaimed Mr Brown which he hastily followed with, “Forgive me. I blaspheme.”

  “Nonsense,” responded Raffles, “God is indeed good, especially in the context you have chosen.”

  Laura’s smile grew. He hadn’t changed. He had a way of turning people’s thoughts around. But who was Emmeline? She must be the ‘poor relation’ the Carpenters frequently mentioned whenever they wanted to congratulate themselves on being far removed from the rest of society. They used her as some kind of benchmark.

  “I am absolutely certain she will accept my proposal for she winked at me when I made reference…”

  “She winked?”

  Ah, it was definitely that Emmeline. The one with the nervous tic.

  “It was the only response she could have made at the time without causing consternation. She has just taken up residence in the house of my great friend, Mr Adam Leigh-Fox.”

  Laura took a deep breath. Dear Adam, all waifs and strays were welcome to shelter at “Foxhills”. She wondered what Emmeline had done to find herself in need of a safe haven. Parson Raffles positively bounced along, as much from joy as from the well-sprung coach, regaling his travelling companion with plans for the future. He must see the bishop first and with this thought, his face fell, jowls causing him to look comically stern. “Ah, the good Bishop” he said raising his eyes to study the roof of the carriage. “Would that he might say the same of me.” He would ask Emmeline immediately upon his return, he told the traveller. All of his usual discretion had deserted him. It’s strange how oftentimes we tell complete strangers more than a close friend, Laura mused. She must not fall asleep. That ‘oftentimes’… no one used such a word in her new life – was she slipping back? She shuddered.

  While the parson enthused about the delights of this wonderful world, the other man grasped his cloak from where he’d tucked it alongside him. “Damnably cold in here. I beg your pardon, parson, but I’m beginning to see why those women gave up their places.”

  Laura ignored his unwitting reference to her presence; she preferred to gaze at the silver ring on her finger, the one Xandra had made as a gift but never managed to give her. Fate seemed to decree that Adam, as the highwayman, took it from Xandra and now she had taken it from Adam as a reminder of two special people. She closed her eyes and felt warmly contented, like a cat curled in front of an open fire. Adam would soon be rid of Jack who would be tied to the redoubtable Charlotte Carpenter, no longer a loose cannon, safe and in more comfort than he deserved. Adam would also be very rich. The case had contained more gold than she ever imagined he could rustle up. Adam was usually prudent but he obviously felt this was a small risk worth the taking. Laura allowed herself an indulgent smile; it was, after all, no risk at all. Wellington would win. History could not be changed – ask anybody! No one would believe it possible. Parson Raffles might, of course. He believed in miracles.

  Parson Raffles also ignored the remark about the cold. His mind was taken up with warm thoughts of weddings. After a while he voiced them. “I have also to conduct two weddings quite soon and a third a little later.”

  “Time of year,” chipped in the cloak-clad man with a raised eyebrow. “An expensive time. We’d best hope for an end to this war soon. Do you think Wellington can defeat that Frenchman?”

  Parson Raffles thought for a moment. Then he slapped the seat next to him. “Even without Miss Carpenter’s eyes, I think he will rout the Frogs.”

  Mr Brown looked puzzled.

  “She has eyes that would be very useful in battle,” said the parson gravely.

  Enlightenment dawned. “Ah, I see, a woman who can kill with a look. Not one of those soon to be married, I hope.”

  “Indeed, indeed,” chuckled Parson Raffles, then hastened to add, “Mercifully not to me. Those eyes will be put to excellent use.” He thought for a moment. “All for the best, all for the best.” Jostled and not entirely in his element, he still managed a smile as he said, “Ah, the future – what joy it holds.”

  Laura watched the parson carefully; his cheerful countenance seemed to be fading as he put his hand to his mouth. “Forgive me, I do not travel well. I think, oh yes!” He leaned out of the window and belched loudly and called for the coachman to stop. “Yes, I am feeling very ill indeed.”

  Laura had no hope of sleep; no chance for her memories of the future to fade. Dear Parson Raffles, he would never know how much good he did in this world.

  Hide in Time ~ Anna Faversham

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  It was Wednesday afternoon, 21st June when Adam returned in the old carriage clattering up to the front of “Foxhills”. If anything, the carriage looked worse, as did Johnson sitting on the dusty box on the back. There being so few household servants now, only Millie was available to open the door for the homecoming master. Catherine and Alexandra burst through and stood at the top of the steps, taking in the scene. William, sensing the pounding of the horses through the flimsy soles of his worn-out boots, was soon attending to his duties; he was too grateful to be needed to miss any opportunity to be of service. Billy had been summoned by Adam to London, further depleting t
he number of servants, and he’d taken Esky through lack of choice. Johnson lowered the steps. Adam descended slowly, looked up at Alexandra and called, “It is done. We must now await the outcome.” There followed the merest hint of a smile – perhaps at his unintended rhyming rather than thoughts of the future.

  Alexandra and Catherine exchanged glances before rushing to greet him, Alexandra with a kiss and a linking of arms – oh how she longed to be alone with him – and Catherine with a hug. As they passed Millie in the doorway, Alexandra quietly asked her to bring as much refreshment as she could muster immediately.

  “We have such a lot to tell you,” said Catherine to Adam. “So much has happened while you have been away.”

  “I’m very glad to hear it, so long as it is all good news, for I have little to tell you.” He paused before adding, “Yet.”

  Alexandra said she’d help him off with his boots, but Adam would not hear of it and yelled for Johnson. “Won’t be long and he’ll be rewarded for his faithful service.” Johnson was a few moments coming and when he did appear he looked unkempt and tired. “Help me with my boots, Johnson, then that’s all for today; take some time for yourself. You’ll be needed soon enough to rouse this household from its slumbers.”

  As Adam slumped in his chair, with stockinged feet stretched out, Catherine felt she must set the record straight. “Slumbers indeed! Adam, you’ve no idea, have you?”

  Alexandra could not help but smile. She stood behind him, laid her hand on his shoulder, and toyed with the lock of chestnut hair at the nape of his neck. He put his hand up to hers, caught hold of it and kissed it lightly. Whatever else had happened, she knew that all she needed in the world was right here with her now.

  Millie brought the only remaining silver tray and set its contents alongside Catherine.

  “Do tell then, Catherine, but food first, fables following – that order please.” Adam leaned forward to take a large slice of ginger cake but as he did so, Catherine spun the plate around so that his hand alighted on a small, plain fritter. He touched the plate and turned it slowly. “What’s this? A spinning serving plate?”

  Catherine playfully smacked his knee and handed him one of the smaller plates. “It is one of Billy’s inventions. Tell him, Alexandra.”

  “It’s true, Adam. Billy said it might be useful now that we have so few to serve at table. He’s called it a Lazy Millie; Millie doesn’t know whether to be honoured or offended. This is his smaller version. The larger one suits when we all dine together. Quite simple really. The base stays still and the top rotates. Laden dishes revolve with but a touch so that we can all serve ourselves. He has asked if he may make some more to sell as no one in this part of the country has seen such a thing.”

  With a cross between caution and enthusiasm, Catherine said, “He says it will pay for his keep.”

  “A servant – paying for his keep! Whatever next!” Though Adam sounded affronted, he did not resist giving the plate another turn to seize the ginger cake before it was whisked away again. “A clever fellow, indeed.” He savoured his slice before venturing, “Alexandra, he seems devoted to you. I wonder what your connection to him was – you are both so charmingly innovative and unconventional.”

  Alexandra, still unable to remember any association with Billy or anything of her life prior to the journey to “Foxhills”, slowly shook her head before deciding it was time to give Catherine the focus of Adam’s attention. “Catherine,” she reminded him, “has much to tell you.”

  Catherine, who had been busy sampling the seed cake, gulped, then launched into her news. James Frobisher had taken her to the races on the common. Emmeline had accompanied them. No detail was overlooked and most repeated several times. “It’s wonderful to have Emmeline staying with us, Adam. She makes herself very useful and is such a good friend.”

  “Should you not tell Adam about Jack?” said Alexandra.

  “Ah yes, Jack is, well not quite a changed man, but certainly more…” “Subdued,” offered Alexandra.

  “Yes, subdued. He and Father are visiting the Carpenters today. Father’s a little annoyed that you hadn’t returned with the carriage in time.”

  Alexandra, who could see a further prompt was needed, moved to sit beside Adam, and looked across to Catherine. “Plans are being made, aren’t they, Catherine?”

  “Jack is to marry the Honourable Charlotte Carpenter within the coming month.” She paused before adding with the slightest of smiles, “I’m so pleased they don’t live too close to us.”

  Adam looked up from his empty plate, handed it to his sister who understood the need for frequent replenishment, and said, “Jack will be her constant companion now. Constant.” He squeezed Alexandra’s hand and winked.

  Jack might be under control but Alexandra’s butterflies were not.

  “And Alexandra has been busier than all the rest of us put together. She has not stirred from her desk until you arrived.”

  Alexandra tentatively revealed, “I’ve expanded my short story of flying to the moon into a full length novel. Well,” she hesitated, “I’m on chapter seven and have had an enthusiastic letter from my publisher on progress so far, though he has advised that I must include more romance.”

  “Romance and flying to the moon!” spluttered Adam. “I am relieved such a task is in your hands and not mine.”

  ~

  That evening, after a quiet dinner, Alexandra and Catherine repaired to the sitting room. Emmeline had asked to be excused, saying, “My dear Mr Raffles is to visit on the morrow and I should like to look my best. The only aid available to me is a good night’s sleep.” Emmeline was as shy and appealing as a dormouse.

  “It was so cheering to hear Adam say that once Jack leaves “Foxhills”, we’ll be able to open up the drawing room again.” Catherine picked up her embroidery and perched on the edge of the cream brocade chair by the far window. “I’ve almost forgotten what it looks like.”

  Alexandra stationed herself, like a watchful sentry, behind the matching chair near to the door and glanced over her shoulder. Intent on noting that Adam was walking towards the main front doors again, she replied rather absently to Catherine, “I’ve never seen it, nor all its secrets.”

  Catherine immersed herself in the intricacies of her stitching before responding, “You know Adam calls it ‘the safe’, don’t you? He’s hidden whatever is of value so Jack’s gambling ambitions are thwarted.”

  Alexandra looked across to Catherine; she was growing-up fast. The memory of Adam carrying the rolled-up ‘Tree of Life’ rug on his shoulder came to mind. Retrieved from Jack, it had been on its way to ‘the safe’, no doubt. She took a few steps backwards and leaned out of the doorway enabling her to see Adam still pacing the hall. He glanced at the long-case clock and disappeared from view. He had gone towards the steps again. “That’s the third time he has been to the front doors,” Alexandra said to Catherine, looking perturbed.

  “I overheard him tell Father that if he didn’t hear by tonight then all was lost,” Catherine said in an undertone.

  Before returning to her post for a further peek, Alexandra said, “All lost? What does he mean?”

  Catherine’s concentration wavered and she pricked her finger. Sucking it, she beckoned to Alexandra to move in closer. “He said time would have run out.”

  The clock in the hall struck nine. Alexandra hastened to the doorway of the sitting room. She could not see Adam; she stepped out into the main hall. Adam was half way down the steps leading to the carriage driveway and peering towards the road. He stood listening – Alexandra could hear no sound except that of a blackbird marking his estate before roosting for the night. Then she saw, rather than heard Adam sigh and went to console him; Catherine followed silently behind.

  Adam turned and, catching sight of the two concerned faces, smiled. “Catherine, you should be writing to that beau of yours.” After a moment’s hesitation he said, “Alexandra, perhaps you would like to take a stroll with me around the ga
rdens. We shouldn’t miss the sky marking our fate,” he pointed towards the west. Alexandra understood: the sun, on a cushion of pink clouds, was fading, slipping away and leaving them in twilight with darkness not far behind – he needed her to be with him. Johnson making his way to the wall sconces, looked across to Adam, who raised his index finger. Johnson lit just one candle in each of the sconces.

  Taking advantage of Adam’s distraction, Catherine had seized Alexandra’s hand and was dragging her up the stairs calling behind her, “She’ll need something around her shoulders, Adam; the evening air is chilled.” Had Catherine not done her best to wink at her, Alexandra might have protested, but she followed behind without objection. “He means to propose,” Catherine said, conspiratorial delight shining from her eyes. She shut her bedroom door with a firm thrust. “Promise me you will not demur.”

  Alexandra struggled to keep her smile in keeping with propriety. “Has he confided in you, Catherine, or is this merely conjecture?”

  “Oh Alexandra! Surely you see his love for you? Everything he does, he does with you in mind. As he left for London, his eyes lingered on you alone. When he returned, it was your face he sought.”

  Alexandra fought her growing excitement – Catherine might be wrong. “I shall soon find out,” she said and hurried to the top of the stairs, forgetting the shawl Catherine had found for her.

  Adam stood silhouetted in the doorway with one heel propped against the great doors’ frame, leaning backwards with his hands thrust in his hip pockets, watching for her to come to him. Though she could not see his face, Alexandra knew exactly how he would look. Dark eyes would take in her every movement as she descended. As she drew near, she could see his eyes flash angrily towards the clock. Time had beaten him: she loved him all the more.