Alexandra’s instincts were to ignore him completely yet she answered, “I promise you, Jack, I have never laid eyes on the key to this room.” The thought of her writing sanctuary being invaded by this weasel had overruled her feelings of disdain.
Jack thought for a moment. He then shouldered the door with all his might, but to no avail. He began rubbing his shoulder; he should have thought for longer, mused Alexandra.
“Jack, Jack,” entreated Father Fox. “This is no time to injure yourself. If Adam returns in good time he will undoubtedly oblige us with the key, if only to save some family treasures from our creditors’ hands.”
But Jack had turned his back and walked out of the door while his father was addressing him. He returned with two of the Carpenters’ footmen. “The door – break it down,” he said indicating the drawing room. “Creditors do not tarry. They will be here before Adam deigns to return.”
The contempt in Jack’s voice goaded Alexandra. The two footmen rushed towards the door in unison. Imperceptibly, Alexandra stuck her foot out from beneath her dress and tripped up one into the other.
Jack swore at them so loudly that Charlotte felt the need to make an entrance. “Jack, my dear, cannot you wait for Adam? It is farcical to force one’s own door for the lack of a key.” Her voice was as smooth as silk: her eyes as hard as iron. “The Carpenter family does not associate with the bankrupt, Jack. I wish to leave immediately.”
Jack declared she was right and it was indeed prudent to leave immediately. “I don’t want my good name tarnished.”
Not reformed, but perhaps tamed – so long as she followed him everywhere.
Alexandra watched as they climbed into the landau with its shiny yellow coachwork. Jack did not say farewell to his father, nor to the few servants standing bereft in the hall, nor did he remember Catherine, who now ran desperately through the doorway to stand beside Alexandra on the front steps.
Two carriages had arrived, three departed, well laden. Father Fox remained.
The witnesses to Jack’s departure were unable to see or hear the approaching carriage but they heard the voice of its driver. They also noticed the commotion it caused. “Whoa, there!” Each carriage driver skilfully avoided a collision.
Catherine and Alexandra climbed higher up the steps to see what was happening. “Adam!” exclaimed Alexandra. “Adam is back!”
“He’s in a phaeton!” cried Catherine. Without waiting for an answer, both she and Alexandra, lifted their skirts and ran. Father Fox sauntered across the lawns, avoiding the crunchy gravel.
Adam, driving Holly hitched to the fast phaeton, had pulled it across the path of the landau, jumped down and was now holding the reins of one of the dappled greys.
“Drive on!” Charlotte screamed at the driver of the curricle behind. “Drive on! Go around.”
The coachman tried steering the carriage between the trees lining the driveway and across the uncut grass but progress was hindered by the overload of effects and the many mole hills. The driver of the Leigh-Fox carriage, one of the Carpenter’s footmen, was not sure whether to follow. The curricle’s limited progress was halted by the arrival of Parson Raffles. Leaning out of his carriage window, he quickly saw the need to block the exit of the brimful curricle, and began waving his hat wildly as he ordered his coachman across its path.
Adam, his chestnut hair tousled, his cravat undone and top buttons open revealing the sweat of the day’s exertions, was casting an eye over the contents of the landau. “You are free to leave with your personal possessions. You have formally relinquished your right to any additional assets, yet I see you are making off with much of what constitutes Father’s home and my inheritance.”
“You dishevelled dolt!” yelled Jack. He leapt from the carriage and prodded Adam with his finger. “I am saving your inheritance. The bailiff’s men will be here before the end of the day so I cannot see that you,” he prodded Adam again particularly firmly, “can object to one of the family securing a few valuables before they arrive.”
Adam grabbed hold of Jack’s prodding finger and forced it upwards and backwards. “Then I thank you for doing that for Father and myself and I ask that the other carriages now return to the house for unloading.”
“Unloading!” Charlotte Carpenter screamed. “You think we are going to unload? You are gravely mistaken.”
Adam ignored her, turned to his doubting father and whispered in his ear. Whatever it was that Adam said, his father took on an air of victorious rectitude and strutted around the carriages pulling a couple of items out of the open landau. He tucked them under his arm and made his way purposefully back to the house. He turned to shout, with his other arm expansively encompassing as much of the scene as he could manage, “Indubitably.”
Raffles, his scarlet-ribboned hat now firmly on his head, billowed across the grass towards the assembly, adding to the feeling of triumph by his glowing presence. Alexandra was amused to see Martha waving out of the carriage window her shining eyes above her nearly toothless grin.
“There will be no bailiff’s men, Jack. The clue is the phaeton. I no longer have any creditors who cannot be repaid. You will, therefore, return what is not yours to take.”
All eyes were on Jack. Consideration was an art he was still learning to practise and his response looked as if it might be some time coming. After a quick appraisal of the contents of their carriage, Adam assisted. “You may continue your journey with all that is in the landau. The Carpenter servants will drive the curricle to your new home after it has been emptied here and Billy will take charge of our carriage and its contents.” Noticing that his entire household, such that it was, was now watching from either the steps or the stables, Adam beckoned to William to drive the beautifully upholstered Phaeton. Raffles, naturally, decided to return to his carriage and be driven the last few yards to the steps of “Foxhills”.
Once all carriages, horses and people were going in the allotted direction, Adam turned to Alexandra. He produced a white lace parasol, opened it, held it high and handed it to her. His words were simply, “Thank you for waiting.” His eyes said ‘with all my heart I love you’.
Hide in Time ~ Anna Faversham
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Dinner that evening was a very strange affair yet undoubtedly enjoyable. Adam had asked Alexandra and Catherine to ‘prepare a feast’. Catherine had looked at her brother as if he had acquired a second head, her eyes fluttering from side to side before she said, “A feast? We can only feast upon what we have grown in the garden – vegetables.”
“So be it. Tell Mrs Lamb to be imaginative.”
“Men!” Catherine had responded with ill-concealed affection. “Absolutely no idea how a household runs at all!”
Now here they were, filing in, one after the other, to take their places at the table. Father Fox sat in his accustomed place. Adam sat at the far end. Alexandra sat to his left and Raffles to his right. Emmeline Carpenter sat on Father Fox’s left and Catherine sat opposite her.
“You are all welcome.” Father Fox began as if he were the Archbishop of Canterbury addressing a distinguished congregation. Then, looking straight at Catherine on his right he said, “Tonight we shall begin by asking Parson Raffles if he will bless us with an offering of grace before meat.”
Alexandra successfully prevented herself from spluttering ‘meat!’ Does he say these things on purpose? She reflected just long enough for her to realize the significance of his addressing Catherine as if she were Raffles. That was where Raffles should be seated – next to the head of the household – and it was his way of chastising his son – despite all that Adam had achieved for him. Cunning old Father Fox.
Raffles stood and clasped his hands in front of him; he had such presence. He began with an intake of breath. Oh no, not another speech. She wondered if he had read her mind, for he simply said, “For the food you provide, the family you grant and friendships made, we thank you. Share this meal with us, we beseech you,” and sat dow
n with a contented smile.
Irreverently, an unwanted image of Jack ranting appeared to Alexandra. “Share it! Share what?” She thrust it aside; he had gone now. Perhaps one day she would miss his theatrical tantrums though she knew it was unlikely anyone else would.
Raffles had brought Martha with him, ‘just on loan’ he said several times. He now pretended to regret the decision because Martha, laden with a tureen of soup, tripped. “Trumbles! I thought we’d lost the lot then,” she blurted. “Beg your pardon, sirs.” She dumped the dribbling tureen in front of Emmeline. “And misses too, beg pardon.” Aware that her entrance was less polished than she’d practised, she blushed, then caught Alexandra’s kindly smile and grinned – she’d undoubtedly lost another tooth.
“Priceless,” murmured Raffles to Adam. “Don’t you agree?”
“A treasure,” Adam responded. “I have only to see that gappy grin to feel that all is well with the world.”
“Tis carrot with floating herbs,” said Martha.
Johnson had now arrived with a basket of warm, fresh bread. “Carrot, garnished with coriander,” he corrected.
“Much prefer Martha’s description.” Adam’s stage whisper to Alexandra dissipated all tension and she was no longer able to hold back her laughter. The whole table erupted. Even Father Fox, still busy wiping what might or might not be a splash of soup on his sleeve, looked up and glowed.
An apology for a salamangundy followed. “T’aint quite right,” said Martha as she placed Billy’s Lazy Millie in the centre of the table and demonstrated a spin. Father Fox flourished his handkerchief unnecessarily and began wiping his sleeve again. “Mrs Lamb said there’s no pickled herrings or such-like, but you’ve got some cheese somewhere in there.”
Following the cider syllabub, a dish of home-grown strawberries was served and Adam asked Johnson to assemble all the resident servants in the dining room once they’d finished.
“The dining room, sir?”
“All the servants, Johnson, here in the dining room. Even William and Billy, it will not be overcrowded, will it?” An eyebrow raised, a hovering smile, he exuded charm and poise even when flouting all the rules.
“Sir,” said Johnson in compliance.
“And bring in and light a full candelabra for the sideboard.”
Adam spoke in the faintest of whispers to Raffles, “To protect the reputation of my scholarly Alexandra, nothing will be mentioned to anyone in terms of the foundation of the fortune. Vague references to the rewards for winning a war should stifle curiosity.”
“Indeed,” replied Raffles gravely nodding his head. “Financial matters flummox the common man; I myself confess to not having understood much of what you said, nor Alexandra’s part in guessing who would win.”
Adam nodded gently, then smiled with visible relief.
When the servants were all assembled near the doorway, Adam stood up. Despite his not having had any sleep for at least twenty-four hours, Alexandra thought she had never seen him look so fresh. There was something about his manner that reminded her of the highwayman. A shiver went through her and a pain deep within grew – she could never lose this man, this gallant cavalier who had brought to her verve and charm… Her thoughts were interrupted.
“The outcome of the last few days is known to some but I should like to clarify what the future holds for “Foxhills” and those associated with it.” Adam held up a copy of The London Gazette. “Wellington has had a profound effect on our future.” His explanation was brief.
Alexandra was relieved he did not elaborate as few could grasp the implications of a war won overseas on the life of one particular household. Perhaps Billy was the exception; his eyes shone – he had played a part in this victory. Unbidden, the image of a slumped figure, squatting on a pavement, flashed across her mind. The man looked like an older version of Billy – please God, don’t let it be his future. Of course it wasn’t. It was his past; he’d looked rather like that on his arrival at “Foxhills”. Now he looked so alive, as if he could take on any assignment and succeed. He was as smartly attired as current circumstances allowed and she’d noticed his polished shoes when he’d entered.
“ “Foxhills” will require a full complement of household staff. Johnson, Mrs Lamb, Millicent and the daily women from the village have given sterling, loyal service. Under normal circumstances, I might arrange to speak to you one by one. Expediency seems preferable. The quicker arrangements are made, the better it will be for us all.”
Alexandra stole a glance at the mystified faces of the assembled staff; to her delight, expectancy was replacing anxiety.
“Johnson, I appoint you as Butler. Your first task will be to unlock the drawing room.” Adam took a key from his pocket and presented it to him. “Your second will be to return Miss Mulberry’s diamonds.” Alexandra’s eyes lit up; it was as Catherine had said, he’d stored them safely. Then she caught sight of Johnson’s expression; it was one she would never forget. Pride was there, but something much more: gratitude? Alexandra settled on gratitude, gratitude for the trust Adam was placing in him. Then his eyes shone too and his very demeanour showed he was up to the job before him.
Adam, having paused, continued, “Billy, you have been invaluable and I applaud your loyalty to Miss Mulberry. Long may you watch over her – when I am not here.” Everyone smiled; everyone knew he knew. "You are to train as my valet but initially retaining some of your responsibilities in the stables – William will require a great deal of assistance in making room for the phaeton and a splendid barouche we’ll order from William Bligh in Canterbury.” Father Fox puffed out his chest at hearing the name 'William Bligh' and began nodding. Adam allowed time for the hum of excitement to settle.
“A housekeeper will be appointed in consultation with Johnson and Mrs Lamb, whom I should like to remain as our cook.” Mrs Lamb wrung her hands on her skirt, apparently forgetting she’d removed her apron, and nodded enthusiastically.
“Millie, you have admirably combined your duties of ladies’ maid and parlour maid. I should like you to continue as lady’s maid to Miss Leigh-Fox. Your first duty is to make an appointment for the seamstress to visit." He glanced at Catherine and winked.
“Miss Mulberry will require a new lady’s maid.” He turned to look at Alexandra. His eyes! That highwayman’s look! Alexandra heard little of what he said for some time after that, just something about the housekeeper appointing a full complement of household servants. Her attention returned in time to hear what Adam said next..
“William,” Adam walked across to William and drew him out from behind Billy. “A truly loyal and faithful servant if ever there was one.” Adam grasped him by the shoulder then presented him with a sheaf of papers. William’s response equalled that of any lottery winner. He held up, for all to see, a drawing of the long-dreamt of barouche, a rough sketch of the phaeton, an even rougher sketch of six horses, and a hasty attempt at a redesign of the stables and loft accommodation. Next to Adam’s sketchy figure representing William, were two stable hands, both with wooden legs and wheelboards. There was some ill-concealed amusement amongst the servants at this point. The last sheet of paper showed an extension to the stable block – an attached cottage for his sole occupation.
“You are now dismissed for the rest of the day. If any or all of you have concerns, please speak to me tomorrow.”
William was first out of the door clutching his drawings and stopping only to shake the hand of Billy, who was following him, thus cluttering up the exit. Martha too was blocking the doorway – she hadn’t wanted to be left alone in the kitchen.
Adam called Johnson and Martha back. “We’d like coffee served here immediately and the sugared almonds I brought back – bring those in too. Then share a couple of bottles of wine, or find some ale if you prefer. I hope there’s still a cask in the cellar. Johnson, you may organize something better another day. Martha can pour the coffee – you join the others for a small celebration. We’ll have some Port, if there�
��s any left…”
Johnson shook his head.
“My apologies,” Adam glanced around the table, “Sugared almonds and coffee it is then.” Adam was tired, Alexandra could see that, nevertheless he turned to Raffles and said, “Parson Raffles, I believe you have something you would like to say.”
Raffles stood up, “I do, I do. Good words those. Words I am planning to say myself. Is that not right, Miss Carpenter?”
Emmeline blushed and looked confused. Alexandra wondered if he’d actually asked her yet. Catherine gave a little cheer and Father Fox repeated several times, “Splendid result, splendid.” Perhaps this phrase would replace his usual ‘utterly deplorable’. One can hope, thought Alexandra.
Johnson brought in two pots of coffee and Martha followed with the cups. Johnson bowed and left for the kitchen celebrations while Martha began pouring. Raffles wandered over to Emmeline and patted her on the shoulder. She appeared to wink at him. A nervous tic might be difficult for a parson’s wife – winking at her husband’s congregation.
Adam was still standing beside his chair when he said, “In readiness for a number of wedding ceremonies to be held in your church, Parson Raffles, I have taken the liberty of requesting a brochure.” Raffles looked puzzled. “So that you may order an organ!”
There was a general murmur of pleasure from the diners and a “Lord be praised,” from Martha.
Adam looked across to Alexandra. “I also have an announcement to make. Yesterday I asked Alexandra a question…”
Martha dropped the sweets, which rolled around the floor, and clapped her hands together. “You better of said yes, girl. I’m tellin’ ya – it better be yes. I won’t be responsible for what I says if you don’t. Go on, girl, say it!”
She was stopped from further exuberance by Adam, which allowed Alexandra to say, “I already have.”
~
That night, by the light of a dozen candles, Alexandra wrote in her diary, ‘I am consumed by my love for Adam. I can think of nothing else. My admiration for his saving of “Foxhills” knows no bounds. Apparently, mustering every ounce of gold he could, he bought shares at their lowest prices when all hope of victory had faded; then sold enough at much higher prices when the triumphant announcement arrived. This repaid all the loans and mortgages on the properties of the estate. And, he says, he has sufficient holdings to produce an income worthy of his family name. His dear, but ineffectual father has been graciously but firmly retired. This long day has been unforgettable and what I shall remember most was the long stemmed red rose Adam placed in Martha’s gabbling mouth which he’d planned to present to me.’
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