Frances tried to imagine what it would be like to have her own home. She’d been mistress of a great house before when she was married to Lionel, but never had any say in anything that went on, save the supper menu, and sometimes not even that. Lionel had been very particular about what he liked to eat. This time, everything would be different. She would be the mistress in every sense of the word, even if the house was a modest one, and she only had one servant. It would be more than enough. She intended to do much of the work herself. She wasn’t so high and mighty that she couldn’t change the bed linens or darn a few pairs of socks. The idea of a home was strangely appealing, and Frances allowed herself a moment to daydream while Cook fetched her a bowl of porridge with honey and butter and poured her a cup of ale.
The servants finished their breakfast and scrambled to their feet, eager to finish the washing up so that they could get ready for church. They conferred between themselves as they filed out of the kitchen, wondering if they might be called to testify against their mistress. Ruby looked horrified by the prospect, but Cook and Harriet looked as if they might enjoy their moment in the sun. They would be affected by the outcome of the trial one way or another, but they wished to have their say, and suddenly Frances wasn’t sure which way their sympathies lay. Harriet had been a friend of Liza’s and might have been swayed by her venom, but Cook had a good, secure position at Everly Manor, which she would surely hate to jeopardize. Polly hoped that she would not be called on, but clearly stood in support of Neve, whom she admired. But whichever way the servants leaned in their support, they were all looking forward to the trial and the entertainment it would bring to their otherwise dull and dutiful Sunday.
Frances looked up as Jem walked into the kitchen, sat down at the table, and reached for a slice of bread. He began to butter the bread with single-minded concentration while staring at the whorls in the wood as if they might reveal some insight on how to get through this day. He looked downtrodden and pale this morning, his eyes glazed by melancholy and lack of sleep.
“Are you all right, Jemmy?” Frances asked gently.
Jem nodded silently, but Frances saw him blinking away tears as he took a long pull of ale, probably in order to hide his face behind the large pewter tankard. He was older now and deeply embarrassed of his emotions, especially if they made him look weak and less than manly. He was at that awkward age where he was too old to be treated like a child, but too young to be accepted as one of the men, and it pained him because he was lost in his own misery, unable to share it in a way that made him feel mature and respected.
Frances could understand his loneliness and isolation, but there wasn’t much comfort she could offer. Now that Hugo and Neve were gone, there was no reason for Jem to stay, and it had been agreed that he would start for home first thing tomorrow morning. Frances would be sorry to see Jem go; he was another member of her adopted family who would now be lost to her, but it had been Hugo’s wish that Jem return to his father, and as much as Frances and Archie both loved the boy, they knew that sending Jem on his way was the right thing to do. Come Monday, it would be just her and Archie left, and they would be on their way soon enough.
Chapter 30
Frances came down the stairs, ready for church. A heavy silence weighed on the house, giving her a dull headache. Never had it felt as empty as it did at this moment, not even when they returned from France and found the house shut up and freezing cold. There were no sounds coming from the kitchen or from the bedrooms where the Everlys would be getting ready for church as they did every Sunday. Archie had stepped outside with Jem, and the staff had left for church a few moments ago. Mark Watson paced the foyer like a caged animal, glancing at the stairs every few seconds to see if Lady Everly was coming down. Despite his earlier bravado, he had no desire to confront her for fear that she would summon her black magic and curse him for all eternity.
“Well, where is she?” Watson snarled at Frances.
“They’ll be down presently,” Frances replied calmly and went to join Archie and Jem. They walked silently toward the church, amazed by the number of people streaming through the lych-gate. This was an occasion not to be missed, a witch trial in Cranley. The atmosphere in the church was almost festive, as if people had come to see a play rather than a legal proceeding against a person they all knew, a person who had been nothing but good to them. People were talking between themselves, exchanging predictions for the outcome of the trial, and telling tales of their own run-ins with the witch. The three men of the ecclesiastical committee were sitting in the front pew, their carriage erect, and their gaze unwavering. They would take the floor after the Sunday service, but for now, they were keeping their own counsel. Frances strained to catch a glimpse of their faces, but they resolutely faced the front, wishing to have no dealings with the parishioners until the trial began.
Bradford and Beth Nash sat in their usual place in the third pew on the right. Beth seemed to be fixated on her hands, which were folded in her lap, but Bradford’s head kept swiveling from side to side as he watched the door. He was as much in the dark as everyone else in the church, and would continue to be until Archie passed on Hugo’s message to him after the service. Brad’s gaze met Archie’s, and the two men nodded to each other, acknowledging the sad events of this day.
Frances scrutinized the congregation looking for Liza Timmins. Was she here? Archie was confident that Liza wouldn’t dare show her face, but Frances had her doubts. Liza was just insolent enough to defy Archie and try her utmost to turn the situation around to her own benefit. Of course, her accusation no longer mattered since there would be no trial, but Frances sincerely hoped that Liza got her just desserts. If Archie had scared her enough to make her leave these parts, so much the better.
Reverend Snow glanced anxiously at the door, his forehead creased with worry. He wanted to make sure that everyone was in attendance before starting the service, not wishing to be interrupted midway. He periodically glanced at the three bishops and shook his head. The crowd began to grow restive, but there was still no sign of the accused. Every head turned toward the sound of the opening door as Mark Watson burst into the church.
“She’s gone,” he cried. “The house is empty.”
“And the children?” Reverend Snow asked, concerned.
“They’re gone, too.”
“How is this possible?” one of the judges roared, finally turning to face the congregation. He looked livid, his eyes bulging with fury. “She was under house arrest since returning from London, watched day and night. How could she have escaped, and with two young children?”
“I don’t know, your eminence,” Reverend Snow replied, his voice laced with uncertainty. “We’d seen the other members of the household coming and going, but Lady Everly never left the house other than to take a stroll in the garden where she was clearly visible.”
“This just proves she’s a witch,” Bishop Cotton screeched. “Find her.”
Several men erupted from their seats and ran down the nave and from the church. The mood had turned ugly; people now baying for blood rather than just hoping for entertainment. Women talked loudly, their comments malicious and cruel. Frances clearly heard one woman saying that the children were possessed by the Devil and should be put through some form of exorcism. Archie squeezed Frances’s hand in reassurance, gently reminding her that Neve and the children would never be found.
The other two bishops were now on their feet, moving down the nave, studying the faces of the villagers who were looking around in confusion. They were bishops of the church, but there wasn’t an ounce of kindness or forgiveness in their demeanor. Their skin was mottled with rage, and their eyes scanned the parishioners, looking for anyone who appeared frightened or afraid of making eye contact. They knew how to use their power to intimidate, and they rightfully assumed that someone knew something. Frances looked up and stared into the eyes of the youngest bishop, daring him to question her. Oh, how she would love to tell him the truth a
nd watch him explode with rage.
“Does anyone know where the witch is? Speak now, and you will be rewarded in Heaven for your piety. But, if you withhold knowledge of the witch’s whereabouts you will burn in the fires of Hell for eternity, subjected to endless torture and suffering at the hands of Satan.” The buzz of conversation ceased, leaving the church in ominous silence.
Reverend Snow looked around the congregation. “Please, remain calm,” he entreated. “Has anyone seen Liza Timmins?”
“That’s the witch they should be trying,” Frances muttered under her breath.
“Why don’t we hold the service while the men are out looking for Lady Everly?” Reverend Snow asked, directing his question to the three bishops.
“Yes, that sounds like a fine idea. Proceed, Reverend Snow.”
The reverend leafed through the prayer book until he found the right page, then waited for silence to descend before he began. After a few minutes, the usual somnolent atmosphere settled on the congregation as Reverend Snow began to preach, his voice lulling even the most robust churchgoers into drowsiness. Reverend Snow was a fine preacher, but his soothing, melodious baritone did little to rouse Christian fervor. He was about halfway through the sermon when the doors of the church burst open again, revealing three men who were heavily armed.
The reverend stopped speaking, his expression going from one of calm to one of apprehension. The three bishops turned to face the newcomers, their hope of seeing Lady Everly replaced by ire at the service being so rudely interrupted.
Reverend Snow opened his mouth to say something when the man in front held up his hand to silence him. “Forgive me for interrupting the service, Reverend Snow. My name is Giles Worthington, and I am the constable of Haslemere. I’m here on important business.”
“What important business can you have in church on a Sunday other than the business of the Lord?” one of the bishops barked, clearly annoyed. “Say your piece and get out.”
“Liza Timmins, the woman who was due to testify at this morning’s trial, according to her sisters, had been found dead by a passing farmer on Saturday morning.”
“Good God,” Reverend Snow mumbled. “How did she die?”
“The witch smote her,” someone called out, but instantly fell silent as the constable glanced in their direction.
“She was strangled with the reins of her horse and left in the woods by the side of the road. The animal was found grazing not too far from the body. Mistress Timmins’s sisters said that she was due back Friday evening, so it would seem that she was killed on Friday night while bound for home.”
The constable began walking the length of the nave, studying the faces of the parishioners much as the bishops had done only a short while ago. His gaze finally stopped on Archie, who was looking at Constable Worthington with undisguised interest.
“A tall man with red hair and light eyes was seen on the road to Haslemere on Friday evening, a man identified by several residents of this village as Archibald Hicks.”
Archie made to protest as the other two men seized him and hauled him to his feet, twisting his arms behind his back. “Master Hicks, you are under arrest for the murder of Liza Timmins,” Constable Worthington announced, his face aglow with satisfaction at having found his man. “You will be taken to the gaol in Guilford where you will remain until the trial.”
“I didn’t kill Liza,” Archie hissed, his eyes blazing with anger, but no one was listening. The church was in an uproar as Archie was hauled out.
Frances pushed her way through the crowd, but by the time she finally managed to make her way outside, she saw the wagon rattling away from the church, the constable driving and the two men flanking it on horseback. Archie sat in the bed of the wagon, his eyes anxiously scanning the road for any sign of Frances. He smiled reassuringly when he saw her. Frances stared at the departing wagon until it disappeared from view, barely aware of Jem at her side.
April 2015
London, England
Chapter 31
I collapsed on the sofa, weary to the bone, and gratefully accepted a cup of tea from Simon, who looked equally knackered. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d had such a hectic day. Simon and I started by feeding the children breakfast and then taking them for a ride on the double-decker bus to the zoo at Regents Park. After the initial shock, both Valentine and Michael began to enjoy the ride, their heads swiveling from side to side as they took in the sights. Michael put his hands over his ears to drown out the noise of the traffic, but Valentine seemed oblivious to the smells and sounds as she looked around, eager to take it all in. I expected a million questions, but instead, both children were silent with awe, their eyes wide with wonder.
Simon had been right; the zoo proved a huge hit. The children were so overwhelmed with seeing exotic animals that they forgot all about the fantastical change in their environment and the strange clothes they were wearing. I’d run out as soon as the shops opened and picked up a change of clothes for myself and the children using Simon’s credit card. They could hardly walk around in the clothes I’d made, which were ill-fitting and looked strange. Both children protested getting dressed until Simon began to describe what they were about to see, and then their resistance melted away. Simon had a natural way with kids, and they warmed to him as soon as they got over the shyness of being around a strange man.
Simon and I exchanged amused glances as both kids jumped in front of the monkey cage, imitating the screeching chimps. They were laughing and making faces as they danced before the cage. I had never seen them so happy, and I desperately wished that Hugo could be there to see his children’s joy. Simon pulled out his mobile and took a few snaps which he forwarded to his mother. She would make sure Hugo got to see what his family was up to, and I was grateful to him for his thoughtfulness.
“Can we bring Archie and Frances here?” Valentine suddenly asked, instantly deflating my spirits. “I want to show Archie the giraffe. He would like it,” she added.
“Maybe someday, darling,” I responded, hoping that with time, the memory of Archie and Frances wouldn’t be as vivid as it was right now.
“How about some ice cream?” Simon piped in, eager to change the subject.
“What’s that? I’ve never had ice cream.” Michael said, earning me a judgmental look from a mother next to us.
“It’s cold, and sweet, and oh-so-yummy,” Simon said, lifting Michael up and settling him on his shoulders. “What flavor would you like? There’s vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry.”
The children looked blank, so we got two vanillas, one chocolate, and one strawberry, and allowed the children to try all the flavors. Michael liked strawberry, Valentine claimed the chocolate, so Simon and I were left with vanilla cones.
“You have no idea how good this tastes,” I said to Simon as I licked my ice cream.
“I bet. You look as happy as the kids,” Simon commented.
“Life without ice cream is not worth living,” I joked. “But I do wish Hugo could be here. He loves ice cream,” I added wistfully.
“You will be together soon; just give it a bit of time. I’ll drive back to Surrey tonight,” he added, “unless you need my help.”
“I think I can manage. I have a lot to do, but I can pace myself. Getting the children acclimated was the first priority, but they seem to be less traumatized than I expected. I know there’ll be an avalanche of questions once they have time to process everything they’ve seen today, but we’re over the worst of it.”
“They’re acclimating remarkably fast. I think we’d better find the washrooms,” Simon added with a chuckle.
The children’s faces and hands were covered in melted ice cream, their faces aglow with glee. “Where’s Papa? I want him to try this,” Valentine announced as I led her to the Ladies’ room. She blinked at the fluorescent lighting but followed me inside.
“How do they make the water come out?” she asked loudly as I turned on the tap and began washing her face.
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“It’s rather complicated,” I replied.
“And it’s warm,” she oohed. “I like it here, Mama.”
“I’m glad, but it’s time for us to go back to Simon’s house. I think a nap is in order.”
“I don’t want a nap. I want to see the elephants again,” Valentine whined. “And the tigers.”
“All right, another hour and then we leave.”
Valentine seemed satisfied with that, and we spent the next hour walking around the zoo and studying various animals. By the time we got back to Simon’s, the children crashed. I took off their shoes and covered them with a warm blanket, glad to have a little time to just rest.
“Pizza for dinner?” Simon asked. “I’m too tired to organize anything else.”
“Oh yes, please,” I answered. “Pizza and ice cream in one day is my idea of Heaven.”
Simon gave me a tired smile. “Am I to understand that you missed food the most?”
“There are too many things to mention, but I did miss the food. But, what I missed most was access to news publications and entertainment.”
“Really?” Simon seemed intrigued. “Like what?”
“Like films and books. There were books, of course, but they weren’t exactly page-turners, and new books were in short supply, especially in the countryside. And I missed going to the cinema and watching television,” I added. “Modern-day people spend hours of their day staring at their phones, watching TV, reading, listening to music, and playing games. All those things distract the mind, which is not always ideal, especially when they should be concentrating on work or study, but the diversion provides a buffer, keeping reality at bay and allowing the person to take a break from their worries and fears. There were times when I thought I’d scream with frustration or go mad with worry, and a book or a movie would have helped me escape from my thoughts, if only temporarily.”
Comes The Dawn (The Wonderland Series: Book 5) Page 16