“Yes,” Frances replied, hoping that would pacify the woman.
“That’s as good as an admission of guilt, that is,” Cook stated, looking to her minions for support. They nodded, their hostility growing. “And who is to pay our wages if their lordships are gone? You?”
“You can apply to Master Bowden for your wages. He’s been paying them up till now, hasn’t he?” Frances replied, referring to the estate agent who saw to the wages of the staff. Rumor had it that Abigail had not only worked for Godfrey Bowden in the past, but shared his bed before he went and married a woman half her age. Abigail lost not only her lover, but her employment as well. She thought she’d be safe working for Lord Everly, but now the situation had changed again, and the woman was understandably bitter and angry.
“And what’s he going to pay us for if the family are gone?” Cook spat out.
“I understand that you’re angry about losing your position, but it wasn’t my decision to make, Abigail,” Frances said, standing up to the cook. “Lady Everly had to do what was best for her and the children.”
“Gone back to France, has she? Might as well have gone back to the Devil, if you ask me. Those foreigners have corrupted her. Both of them. A traitor and a witch, a fine pair. Well, he’s good and dead, and she won’t be far behind, if there’s any justice in the world.”
“She was in league with the Devil long before that,” Harriet chimed in. “Liza always said there was something not right with her, and now Liza is dead. She told the truth and died for her pains.”
“I think you’d best leave now, and go the way of your murdering husband, Mistress Hicks. You are no longer welcome here, it not being your home,” Cook said, snarling at Frances. Frances finally had enough and sprang to her feet, advancing on Cook until they were face to face, their gaze level.
“I’ll leave when I am good and ready,” Frances retorted. “You don’t scare me, Abigail Fowler. You are no better than you should be, and don’t think that the man whose bed you warmed will protect you. Godfrey Bowden is married now, and you’re about as appealing to him as week-old porridge,” Frances spat out. She was really angry now, the color rising in her cheeks. “And same goes for you all. Lord and Lady Everly had been good to you, and you have business speaking ill of them.”
“We are lucky to be rid of them and their spawn,” Harriet cried indignantly. “Come, Polly, let’s pack our belongings and leave this den of iniquity before our mortal souls are corrupted by their ungodly filth.”
Cook, Harriet, and Polly left the room; only Ruby remained. She was the youngest and the kindest of the lot. Losing her employment would hurt her as much as the others, if not more. The Henshalls were poor as church mice, and equally numerous.
“I’m sorry, Mistress Hicks. Is there anythin’ I can do for ye afore I go?”
Ruby’s eyes swam with tears, and Frances felt an overwhelming urge to hug the girl. It wasn’t the done thing to hug servants, but it made no difference now. She put her arms around Ruby, and they clung to each other for a moment, drawing comfort from each other.
“I don’t believe anythin’ they say about their lordships, an’ I loved those children. Now I have to return to me family,” Ruby sobbed. “Me mam will be that upset.”
“Here, Ruby,” Frances said as she pressed a coin into Ruby’s palm. “Keep that for yourself. Don’t give it to your mother. You might have need of it before long.”
“Thank ye,” Ruby mumbled, stunned by Frances’s generosity. “I will keep it in a safe place. Do ye need me to help ye pack yer things?” Ruby asked.
“I can’t carry much,” Frances replied, her mind already on her journey to Guilford. She planned to leave tomorrow anyway; now it would be that much easier. “Perhaps a change of linen and a serviceable gown or two. And a change of clothes for my husband. Oh, and Ruby, the enamel box on my mantel. It was a gift from Archie.”
“O’ course. I’ll do it now.”
Frances sighed as she threw one last look about the room. They’d spent many happy hours here: talking, sewing, and playing with the children. She stiffened her back and her resolve and left the room, shutting the door firmly behind her. Jem was hovering outside the door. He looked nervous and ill at ease, probably because he felt guilty for leaving her alone by the church.
“I’ll come with you to Guilford, Frances. I can help.”
“No, Jem,” Frances replied as firmly as possible. “You must return to your family. I’ll be better off on my own.”
That wasn’t strictly true, but she had no right to take Jem away from his life and involve him in her troubles. He had a future to think of, and a father who would be worried about him. No, she would go alone. Archie had looked after her since she was fourteen years old, and now she would look after him.
Chapter 34
Frances finally found the strength to get going. She splashed some water on her face, tidied her hair and covered it with a linen cap, then dressed in the sack gown she wore at the convent. She quickly found that it was better to be invisible. Dressing like a fine lady attracted too much attention, and not of the good kind. The first guard she’d approached when visiting Archie had unlaced his breeches and ordered her on her knees if she wanted to see her husband. Frances had fled, and waited until the gaolers changed before trying again. There were one or two kind guards who didn’t harass her, and one of them, named Lawry Gibbs, actually answered her questions, something no one else had been willing to do.
“Well, you see, Mistress Hicks, there are quarterly assizes, and the last one was during Lent. Now, the next court session will be in the summer, with Guilford being last on the list after Lewes and Croydon. Your husband will be tried then.”
“Is the judge just?” Frances asked, her voice shaking with fear for Archie.
“Justice is swift, if not always merciful. Few of the accused are ever found innocent, if any,” Gibbs replied, scratching his head. “The executioner is very busy just then. There’re several hangings a day.”
“But what if the accused is innocent?” Frances persisted. There had to be some way of helping Archie, and the only way she could figure out how was to understand as much as possible about the process.
“The accused is not allowed to speak for himself. Witnesses are brought in, but not for the purpose of defense. They are there to give evidence against the accused,” Lawry explained patiently. He was clearly interested in the law and had attended many hearings.
“So how does one defend oneself?” Frances asked, confused by this odd system of justice.
“One doesn’t. The verdict is based on the strength of evidence presented.”
“In other words, everyone is guilty as long as there’s someone to testify against them,” Frances concluded, finally understanding what Lowry had been trying to tell her all along. He nodded sadly.
“There’s not much chance of a pardon,” Lowry said. He reached out and took her hand, smiling at her kindly. He was a nice looking lad of about twenty, his fair hair tied back and his hazel eyes sympathetic, unlike the other guards Frances had encountered.
“I know now is not the time, Mistress Hicks, but perhaps in the future, we might get to know each other better.”
“You mean once I’m a widow,” Frances snapped, outraged.
Lowry had the decency to look contrite, but didn’t withdraw his hand. “You’ll be needing a friend when the worst happens, and I can be a good friend,” he said. “I have nothing but the most honorable intentions toward you, Frances. I am not proposing anything lewd or indecent. I have a good position here, and a wage that would support a family. I’m a patient man, and I would wait for as long as it took for you to come to terms with your loss,” he added.
Frances swallowed back an angry retort, having thought better of it. Lowry was right, she did need a friend, and a man who was enamored of her was that much easier to manipulate than some lustful, middle-aged guard. Giving Master Gibbs false hope was unfair, but the only way she could help Archie was by using he
r wits and charms. She would do anything it took to save his life.
“I thank you for your proposal, Master Gibbs, and I will consider it most carefully should the worst come to pass. In the meantime, I must do what I can to make this time easier for my poor husband. Would you aid me in that? I would always remember your kindness.”
“I will do what I can,” Lowry promised, smiling at Frances with renewed hope.
“May I see him now?” Frances asked. “I brought some food.”
“Ten minutes, Mistress Hicks, no more. I shouldn’t be letting you in at all, but I can’t refuse you, so be quick about it.”
“Bless you, Master Gibbs,” Frances said, giving him the warmest smile she could muster.
The guard escorted her through the narrow, dark corridors of the prison toward Archie’s cell. Many prisoners shared large, filthy cells as they awaited the trial that would send them to the gallows, but their crimes were of lesser importance. Most were thieves and forgers. Those accused of murder got their own cells, their hands and feet fettered and chained to the ring high in the wall, which enabled the gaolers to pull them to their feet by jerking on the chain.
The stench inside the prison was so overwhelming that it made Frances’s eyes water. There were no chamber pots, so the prisoners pissed and shat right on the floor which was covered with moldy straw. No water for washing was provided, nor any food. The prisoners depended on their family to bring them something to eat, otherwise they starved or ate the rats which were so abundant in the cells. Feeding them was an unnecessary and pointless expense to the Crown considering that most of these men would not see the end of summer. The inside of the prison was strangely quiet. Most prisoners were too hungry and desperate to converse with each other. They sat silently, dark husks propped against damp walls, their matted hair and long beards making them indistinguishable from one another.
Archie was sitting on the stone floor which was strewn with vermin-infested straw. His wrists were chafed from the fetters, and his bare feet were covered in muck up to the ankles. After only two weeks in this hellhole, his clothes were nearly in tatters and his hair was filthy from lack of washing and brushing. The smell in the cell was overwhelming, but Frances hardly noticed. She knelt in front of Archie and kissed his face, oblivious to the grime and reek of his clothes.
“I’m here, love,” she whispered as she took out some bread, cheese, sausage, and a jug of ale. Archie tried to ration his food from visit to visit, but Frances could see in his eyes that he was ravenous.
“Thank you, Franny. Can you perhaps bring me some stew next time?” Archie asked as he tore off a chunk of bread and ripped off a piece of sausage with his teeth. He barely chewed the food before swallowing, desperate to fill his growling stomach.
“Of course,” Frances replied. “But it will be cold by the time they let me in.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Archie replied as he smiled at her. “What would I do without you, Franny?”
“They won’t try you until the summer, Archie. Master Gibbs said that the assizes are quarterly, and then they put everyone on trial within a few days,” she added.
“And they pronounce them all guilty and execute them the following morning,” Archie finished for her.
“There’s still hope. Isn’t there?” Frances asked desperately.
Archie cocked his head and gazed at her as he continued chewing. “Franny, there’s always hope, but I want you to promise me that you will take the money Lord Everly left for us and start a new life should the worst happen. When I face my executioner, I need to know that you will be safe and comfortable. I will die a happy man if I know that you are all right.”
“Don’t talk like that,” Frances pleaded. “I can’t bear to think of losing you.”
“Franny, there’s something I wish to tell you before I go to trial,” Archie said, laying his dirty hand over hers.
“What is it?”
“I know that you haven’t asked me if I’m guilty for reasons of your own, but I want you to know that I didn’t kill her. I did meet her on the road, and I did threaten her, but I didn’t kill her. I let her go.”
“Were you planning on killing her?” Frances asked.
“Yes, I was, but when I held my dagger to her throat, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’ve never killed a woman, Franny, and I’d seen her with her boy. Whatever evil that woman might have harbored, she loved her son and he adored her. I just couldn’t take his mother from him, no matter how much she deserved it. Do you believe me?”
“Yes. But if you didn’t kill her, who did, and why?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps it was the farmer who saw me that evening, but I can’t imagine what his motive might have been. Liza didn’t have anything worth stealing on her, and they found her horse grazing by the body. Surely, if theft had been the motive, the horse would have been taken. No, it was someone who targeted her specifically, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out who that someone might have been.”
“Do you think it might have been Hugo?” Frances asked. Hugo would kill to protect Neve and his children, but what would be the point of killing Liza if he planned on leaving with his family? Liza’s testimony could only do damage if Neve were to actually stand trial.
“Hugo was with my father at the time Liza was killed. He never left the farm. And he’d asked me to take care of her, so why would he kill her?”
“Because you didn’t.”
“No, Franny, it wasn’t him. It was someone who was most likely unarmed.”
“Why do you say that?” Frances asked, confused. She hadn’t considered that possibility.
“Because a person who was armed would have either cut her throat or shot her. Why strangle her with the reins of her horse if you have a better weapon?”
Frances shrugged, unable to come up with an answer. She collected the empty bottle and got to her feet, ready to be escorted outside. Lowry Gibbs was already waiting outside the cell, his pale face visible through the metal grill.
“I’ll try to get in tomorrow, but if I’m unable, make the food last. You hear?”
“Yes, my love. But do bring me some stew next time,” Archie asked again.
“I will; I promise.”
May 2015
Surrey, England
Chapter 35
Hugo gave a low whistle, summoning Tilly to his side. The dog sniffed him suspiciously when he first arrived, but seemed to accept him as the new master. The Lab was getting old, but she was always eager to go for a walk through the countryside, trotting alongside him faithfully. Hugo was nearly as eager as the dog to get outside. He was vibrating with nervous energy that he could barely suppress. He’d been cooped up in the house for two weeks, put through a rigorous training course by Simon and Mrs. Harding. He was shown photos, told anecdotes from Max’s past, given a list of people in the village with whom he’d been somewhat friendly, and taught to play cricket. Simon also spent hours explaining the rules of rugby and made him watch several matches, his running commentary driving Hugo out of his mind.
It’s not that Hugo wasn’t grateful for what the Hardings were doing for him; it was that the more they talked about Max, the guiltier he felt. Max was dead because of him, and he would carry that knowledge with him for the rest of his life. Had Max just gone on to Surrey as he’d originally planned, he’d be the one walking with his dog and enjoying the warm welcome from family and friends. Hugo still couldn’t comprehend what induced Max to come to the Tower and offer to exchange places with him, but that fateful decision cost Max his life. Archie had assured Hugo that it was some form of divine justice, but Hugo didn’t believe that for a moment. If Max had found God and repented, wasn’t that enough? Why would God reward him by taking his life, and in such a way that he was denied salvation? Or was there another reason for Max’s actions?
By committing suicide in the Tower of London while presumed to be Hugo Everly, Max had, for all intents and purposes, stolen Hugo’s life. He set Hugo
free, but made it impossible for him to continue on as Hugo Everly in his own time and place, forcing him to go to the future. It might have been a generous gesture, but it might also have been a trap. If Simon and Mrs. Harding refused to acknowledge Hugo as Max and denied him help, he’d never be able to pull off this ruse and wind up being as much of an outcast in this society as in his own. Was Max really so twisted with hatred that he would go to such lengths to destroy Hugo?
Hugo would never know the answers to any of these questions, but the uncertainty gnawed at him day and night. How could he inhabit Max’s life when he was an impostor and a fraud? Perhaps another man would simply enjoy his ill-gotten gains, but Hugo couldn’t bring himself to accept this perverse gift from the universe without much soul-searching.
He crouched next to Tilly and looked into the kind, brown eyes. “Even you accept me,” he said ruefully. “Can’t you tell I’m not your master?” The dog just wagged its tail, eager to get going. Hugo put the dog on a lead and headed toward the gates. Only two reporters were still hanging about, and he dismissed them with a curt, “No comment” as he walked away from the manor house. The story that Simon had fed to the press worked wonders. It wasn’t the type of sensational tabloid fodder readers would be hoping for. There was no kidnapping, no unsolved mystery, and no leads to pursue. A middle-aged man had a breakdown and went off the grid for a few years, using the time to write a novel that would never be published. Having worked through his issues, he finally decided to return, angering the British public by wasting police time and funds spent on the search. Very disappointing and forgettable, which was exactly what Simon had been hoping for.
There was one area of concern, however, Hugo mused as he walked briskly down a wooded lane. Detective Inspector Robert Knowles had come to interview him a few days ago, once Simon let it drop that Max Everly was back. The detective was polite and respectful, but there was a watchfulness in his eyes and a hint of sarcasm as he welcomed Lord Everly back. Hugo was fairly certain that the policeman suspected the truth. He’d not only investigated Max’s disappearance, but had known Max personally, had spent time with him, and played cricket on the same team. His trained eye could pick up what others had missed, and it had; Hugo was sure of that. Would he initiate an investigation or just ignore his hunch?
Comes The Dawn (The Wonderland Series: Book 5) Page 18