Hide in Time
Page 25
“Quickly,” he took her by the hand, “our chance is slipping away.”
Alexandra shot a worried look at his handsome face. Was he talking about the sunset or was it as she feared?
Adam said very little as they walked by the untended rose garden, on past the walled vegetable plot and up to the top of the hill where there was an outcrop of rocks. “A favourite place of mine.” He turned around, still holding Alexandra’s hand. “Look across to the south; our land stretches as far as you can see.” Turning, he pointed to the north. “Over there it encompasses the woods, and to the east, well you know where the village is, that is part of the estate too. I bought back the parcel of land Jack sold, of course.”
Alexandra was stunned; she hadn’t realized the extent of the Foxhills’ estate. The sheer beauty of the gently swaying wheat fields, glowing in the sun’s fading rays, was breathtaking. The evening breeze turned the heads of corn into a shimmering silver canopy, something she had never noticed with such intensity before. It was a while before she asked, “What will happen to the farmers?”
Adam’s expression was easy to interpret. She wished she hadn’t asked. “The farms will have to be sold and the tenants will not be able to afford to buy. Jobs inevitably lost. The villagers’ rents will rise if bought by the Carpenters or their like.”
“The Carpenters? Surely not?”
“Almost certainly, I would say. They have banking interests and are usually the first to know of a bargain.”
“ “Foxhills” – a bargain!” Alexandra could not conceal her horror.
“The bank will sell the estate quickly to recoup their money loaned for a very short term.” The sun dropped behind the rocks and much of the estate lay in shadow. Alexandra shivered. Adam took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Only an hour ago I had planned to talk to you of fame, fortune, love, even happiness; now I have no right to speak to you of any of these.”
“I do not wish to talk of fleeting fame and flighty fortune.”
“You’re a tonic far better than any known to modern medical science, Miss Mulberry,” he said with a teasing smile that banished the frown from his forehead. “But I now have to come to terms with losing an entire family estate.”
“There is much that cannot be taken away, Adam. Whether we live in “Foxhills” or a hovel, a sunset will look the same. No one can take that away from us.”
“I know the gift of happiness has already been granted to you by one more powerful than I.”
“A gift enhanced by sharing, Adam. It’s not “Foxhills” that I love.” She stopped abruptly. He had not offered marriage, she must not presume too much. “I,” she had to recover her modesty, “I would be happy to live in a cottage so long as I had those I love nearby.” She added enthusiastically, “I am told my novel should sell for one hundred pounds or more, sufficient to run a small household for some time, so long as I incorporate…”
“Romance,” said Adam. “You should not neglect to find romance, Alexandra. I cannot bear to see the woman I love fending off poverty by her own efforts. It contrasts with all you deserve and all that many suitors will offer you.”
“Many suitors? You flatter me and do me a disservice in the same breath. Why would I wish to marry someone other than the man I love?”
Adam moved behind and encircled her with his arms. She leaned back against his chest and he nuzzled into her neck before saying, “Close your eyes, Alexandra. Imagine a cottage, not too far from here, with nothing but a daily maid to help with endless chores and then tell me that those are images of love you would cherish.”
Alexandra, her eyes closed, fancied she smelled the “Foxhills”’ rose garden wafting on the evening breeze and exclaimed, “Oh it is a beautiful sight! The sun is shining. I am sitting in the garden, writing, and we have employed Billy as a gardener to care for the roses…”
Adam laughed. “Your publisher is right; you can include romance even in the most unlikely settings.”
Alexandra turned and snuggled up to him; oh how she loved the warm smell of him. She reached up and, with her finger, traced the scar that followed his smile line. That smile was all she would ever need. She had no memories of love, painful or otherwise, as he did; her memories would always be of him. She must seize this moment. “You are the one man who…” How could she begin to express how she felt? A writer, stuck for words.
Adam helped her out. “Fluttered your butterflies?” He cocked his head to one side and grinned.
She felt her cheeks flush and lowered her eyes as if to ward off the increasing blush. So, Raffles had told him about her butterflies whenever Adam was around – how could he? Blushing still, she began to walk back towards “Foxhills”. Adam did not follow. Was he letting her go? Her fragile hopes shattered like a dropped crystal glass. She turned. He was taking a last look across the estate. “Adam, whatever happens, I could not bear to lose you.”
“Nor I to lose you. But neither can I bear to think of your pretty hands spoiled by constant household chores.”
“What would be the point of caring about my hands if you are not there?”
Adam reflected for a moment. He pulled her towards him and kissed her, stirring the depths of her soul. “I will always love you, Alexandra.” Placing his hand under her breast, he said, “Hold our future in your heart until I return.”
Her persuasions had prevailed. Hope was restored, pain banished, all uncertainties swept away – waiting was something she could do well. This was the man for her and she was, and always would be, his. She nuzzled her face into his white shirt and revelled in the thought that she had finally fallen in love.
Adam bent his head forward and pulled the chain from around his neck, took off the ring and slipped it on her finger. It fitted. For a fleeting moment he remembered the coffee shop and finding his original diamond ring, designed for his first, lost love, replacing the silver copy he had been wearing. He brushed the thought, with all its strange implications, away. Covering her hand in his, he said, “Wear this until I am able to claim you as mine. If any other suitor comes into view and does not know you are loved by me, this will warn him. If he persists, I shall know, and I shall relieve him of his confidence.” He paused. “Maybe more,” he said as he released her hand and playacted the highwayman.
Alexandra, laughing, found it difficult to drag her eyes away from him but she looked closer at what he had given her and gasped. It was a diamond ring identical in design to the silver one he had stolen from her as the highwayman. Had he been to London to have it copied? The irony and error of her thought was beyond her.
“It’s growing dark and tomorrow I have to face the storm. I need to know you’ll wear my ring.”
“I will always wear it, Adam. If you lose everything else, I am forever yours.”
Adam kissed her forehead. “It’s almost certain everything is lost. I bought low and lower it will fall. I must repay the bank by noon tomorrow.” He touched the ring on her finger, “I have saved for us a house in the far paddock, the only property and land I now own outright. Tomorrow I ride to the bank to sign away the Leigh-Fox estate in payment of vast debts. I shall return.” He placed a kiss in the hollow of her neck, she shivered with delight, and his jacket fell from her shoulders. He picked it up, put it around her again and continued, “For the rest you must trust me but, be assured, I will find a way to regain all.”
That night, by the light of a single candle, Alexandra twirled her quill, thanked Shakespeare, "I could not have put it better myself," then wrote in her diary, 'What's past is prologue.'
Hide in Time ~ Anna Faversham
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Early the following morning Alexandra awoke to hear the blackbird asserting the right to his territory again. To a listener, the melodious declaration was pleasing. For the blackbird it was a constant, demanding task or another would claim his rights. A challenger must be seen off at all costs or the loss of a family and an unfulfilled life might follow.
In practical attire, her old blue, flowery cotton travelling dress, she tip-toed down the stairs to the kitchen to make a drink. All was quiet. Words flooded her mind. “It is my sad duty to tell you…” Oh how it would hurt Adam to tell the few remaining servants. And what about Father Fox – did he already know? She concluded there was little to do until she had spoken to Adam, except wait. It was good that he was still sleeping: he would need all his strength in the coming days. She returned to her room with a cup of hot chocolate. Would they be able to afford such luxuries in the future? She contemplated Adam’s ring on her finger; she would never be required to give that up and it was quite the best exchange she had ever known; she resolved not to ask what had happened to the silver one.
Then she noticed a folded piece of paper on the floor, most likely having fallen from the bed when she flung the covers back. Excitement and trepidation fought for dominance. Slowly she picked it up and took it to the desk to read. “My dearest Alexandra, I have no time to explain why I shall not be here when you wake. I hope it will suffice to say I love you and I ask that you trust me. I shall return shortly. Adam”
He had gone. Yes, he’d said he would, but she’d hoped to see him, to assist, to be by his side before he set off to sign away his inheritance. He was facing alone the wreckage of Jack’s years of profligacy and his father’s inadequacy. ‘Return shortly’. How shortly? Today? In a week? Maybe more? She sipped her hot chocolate and spilt some on the latest manuscript; this was going to be a most distressing day. She’d go further than that – it was going to be the worst day ever. In fact… No! Despairing thoughts were not what were required. She’d take Holly out. A ride would lift her spirits. The very thought that Adam had entered her room and left a message, not on her desk but on her bed, ‘fluttered her butterflies’. His recent use of this bold turn of phrase was more than matched by his daring behaviour. Oh how she loved him.
As she neared the stables, she could hear someone attending to the horses. William was brushing Esky. That would mean Billy had returned. Seeping into her consciousness was the realization that Billy had been the messenger awaited by Adam and he’d be able to tell her if the news was good – or bad. Enunciating clearly, Alexandra asked to speak to Billy. William looked troubled and indicated that Billy was asleep in the loft. By way of splaying his arms out wide and lolling his head, William conveyed successfully that Billy was unlikely to wake up easily. At any other time she might have laughed, or insisted on seeing Billy. If Billy had returned with good news, surely even William would have managed a smile. Sighing visibly, with William being totally deaf it was important to act as well as speak, she asked for Holly to be saddled. But Holly wasn’t there. Adam had taken Holly. If only she knew what this good or bad news concerned. Catherine had persuaded her that it was preferable not to get involved – women had no influence in financial matters so it was just a waste of time and energy. Momentarily it seemed to Alexandra that waiting to be told at a time convenient to the men was the real waste of time and energy. This thought was soon replaced by the reckoning that riding and writing were infinitely preferable to accounting and administration.
And so she went for a long walk and when she came back, Billy was nowhere to be found.
~
It was late in the afternoon when Alexandra found Billy sitting on the steps at the front of “Foxhills”. He looked dispirited. Seeing Alexandra, he leapt to his feet. “Sit down again, Billy, and I’ll join you.”
“No, Miss Mulberry, I shouldn’t be at the front at all. You sit, I’ll stand; things aren’t that bad yet. You and Miss Leigh-Fox are still mistresses,” he hesitated and, while he thought, he filled in with, “er no, that don’t sound right.” Then he confidently said, “Still in charge of this house until I’m told otherwise.”
“Hardly in charge, Billy, but I know what you mean.”
Billy smiled, “The news was good.”
“Billy, can you tell me what this news was?”
“Don’t you know? We’ve won!”
“Adam has won?”
“No!” blurted Billy. “Wellington, of course!” He kicked one foot at the other. “Begging your pardon, Miss, I thought you already knew. It might've been some other battle, of course, but you’re always saying about winning the battle at Waterloo.”
Alexandra looked puzzled. “Am I?” Wasn’t it just… ? Never mind, she’d think about that later. “Tell me the full story, Billy. When did you arrive with this news?”
Billy was delighted to oblige and began re-enacting his starring role in the mystery play. “I arrived,” he said scuttling down the steps and backing away towards the distant gates, “on poor, exhausted Esky. Nigh on blasted meself, I was. All but fell off Esky, I did.” He demonstrated as best as he could, not having a horse. ‘“Begging your pardon, Mr Leigh-Fox, sir,’ said I – in great consternation, you understand. I mean just what was the master doing standing at the top of the steps in the middle of the night? Waiting for me? Still? The news must be more than important, more than vital, more than…”
“Indeed, Billy, I get the picture.”
“Well! Esky was panting away and steaming all over. And I boomed,” he paused as he could not resist checking to see his treasured audience was still with him.
“Sergeant Major Sidebotham, even if you were on your last legs, I’ve no doubt this message was delivered with the import it deserved.”
Encouraged, he continued. “I boomed, ‘Wellington’s won!’ And do you know what sir said?”
Alexandra duly shook her head.
‘“That’s good news, Billy,’ as if he he’d just been told the war had been won but the Earth blown up.” Billy conveyed his disappointment with Adam’s lack of enthusiasm with a convincingly crestfallen face and a huge shrug of his shoulders.
So I said, like, just to give him another chance to grasp it, “Yeah, great news, sir. What say you?”
Alexandra could not conceal her amusement. Surely this re-enactment should explain the significance of the victory? However, it seemed to show only that the news had arrived too late to be classed as ‘beneficial’.
“Well, the master went inside, stood staring at the clock he was. Suddenly, like there was a battalion of Frenchies pursuing him, he bounds up the stairs, shouting at me to saddle Holly and in no time at all, I’m bumping into him in the stables and he’s stuffing saddlebags with papers, then he’s gone.” Billy clapped his hands together and flung them in the air apparently thinking he was demonstrating Adam’s instantaneous disappearance.
“To the bank,” said Alexandra finally comprehending the importance of Billy’s tale and Adam’s hurried note to her. “Let’s hope he is in time.”
Moments later, Billy and Alexandra noticed two carriages, each with two matched, dappled greys, making stately progress from the front gates. “I’ll call Johnson and William, Billy. You stay here.”
Alexandra returned to find Jack and Charlotte Carpenter alighting from her father’s smart landau. Father Fox had travelled behind in the Carpenter’s curricle. Despite the warmth of the June sunshine, Alexandra felt a shiver.
Billy’s polite suggestion to attend to the horses was rebuffed.
“We are not staying,” Jack announced to Alexandra as he pushed past her and through the open door. He then bellowed for Johnson who, in response to Alexandra’s earlier call, was already on his way. “You’ll find three boxes in the curricle. Have them brought in and take one up to my room and put one in the morning room and leave the other outside the door to the drawing room.” He turned to see his prospective wife and mother of his child sailing through the doorway and called to Alexandra, “Find Catherine and see that Charlotte is waited
upon whilst I attend to business.”
Father Fox tottered in after Charlotte, and Alexandra followed him. “Deplorable. To win the war too late to save the estate. Deplorable. The vultures will be here in no time.” He mopped his brow and continued somewhat apologetically, “I’d rather the lion take what he can of his kill.”
It seemed to Alexandra that Jack was more of a scavenging dog than a lion and Father Fox should be apprised of the situation before he compounded his folly. “Mr Leigh-Fox, your son, Adam,” she was determined to remind him that he had more than one offspring, “received the news in good time.”
“My dear Alexandra, I am afraid you ladies are unaware of the disastrous timing of the announcement of victory and what it means to “Foxhills”.” Father Fox waved a copy of The London Gazette at Alexandra before throwing it on the floor. “Wild and fast as he is, he’s had no chance to satisfy the banks before the noon deadline. There will be no honey.”
Snippets of information – the situation was becoming clearer.
Charlotte, knowing Jack had already forfeited his share of the “Foxhills” estate and there being little of interest here for her, fidgeted and sighed loudly, prompting Alexandra to respond, “Forgive me, Charlotte, I’ll call for Millie. I believe Catherine is riding.”
While Charlotte was plied with cakes and the last of the expensive tea, Jack was overseeing the loading of the boxes into the curricle. “Bring the Leigh-Fox carriage around to the front too, Johnson, and get cook to fill it with linens from all corners of the house. Anything portable should be loaded.”
The moment Alexandra was dreading arrived. Jack asked her for the key to the drawing room. “Key? I don’t have the key; it’s never been given to me.”
“You lying little toad, I’ll have your room torn apart if you don’t hand it over immediately.”