Exile's Return

by Alison Stuart

  ‘Thank you for the care of the children, Mistress Turner. It is pleasing to see them looking so well,’ Agnes said in a civil tone. Much as she wanted to fly at Leah and demand to know how the children were being treated, she didn’t need or want to make an enemy of this woman.

  Leah fixed her gaze on Agnes. ‘You spoiled these children for too long. They are wilful and disobedient and I have been forced to chastise them for their wayward behaviour. I am pleased to report they are beginning to see the Word of the Lord and to learn meekness and humility.’

  Lizzie whimpered and pressed her face into Agnes’s skirt. A cold hand tightened around Agnes’s heart. “Chastise” in Leah Turner’s lexicon could have just one meaning.

  ‘I assure you, Mistress Turner,’ Agnes said, her voice tight with emotion. ‘I was diligent with their study of the Bible. Perhaps it is the manner in which you present it that is the difficulty. I have always found them biddable children.’

  ‘Enough!’ Ashby’s harsh tone cut across the tension. ‘Now, you have satisfied yourself that the children are in good health. Leah, return them to the nursery. Ag … Mistress Fletcher and I must talk.’

  The children clung tighter to Agnes. Their very silence concerned her and she turned to Tobias. ‘You will get nothing from me unless you allow me free access to the children while I am here.’

  ‘Colonel —’ Leah protested.

  Tobias fixed his gaze on Agnes and she returned it without blinking, grateful he could not see how her stomach churned.

  ‘Very well. I don’t anticipate your visit here will be protracted. Leah —’ he held up his hand, forestalling any further protest.

  Agnes bent and kissed the children. ‘I just have to talk with Cousin Tobias. I will be up presently,’ she said. ‘Go now with Mistress Turner.’

  Lizzie took Henry by the hand, and with dragging footsteps the two children crossed to Leah. The door slammed shut behind them and Agnes turned once again to face Tobias.

  He gestured at a chair. Agnes glanced at Septimus Turner, who had not moved from his position by the window. Ashby followed her gaze and said, ‘You may leave us too, Turner.’

  Turner looked from one to the other, his brow furrowed. Meeting the impassive face of his superior, he inclined his head. ‘Of course.’

  Tobias waited until they were alone before he took a seat in the chair by the fire. He ran a hand down his face as he said, ‘Forgive me, I am a little weary. It was a long journey from London in this atrocious weather. These are uncertain times and I do not wish us to be enemies, Agnes. You must understand, I am bound to obey the letter of the Committee’s order.’

  ‘No one can accuse you of failure to exercise diligence in your duty, Tobias, but may I remind you the directive of that Committee may not outlive the King’s return?’

  He gave her a sharp glance. In his younger days he had been quite a good-looking man, she recalled. They had met at James’s wedding to Anne in the early years of the war. James’s avowed neutrality, and the fact Tobias was his heir until a son was born to James, ensured regular invitations to Charvaley in the years following, even after Agnes had come to live with James and Anne.

  He had even, and she shuddered at the thought, made overtures through James for her hand in marriage, but her own revulsion at the suggestion, and the fact that beyond her connection to James’s wife she brought nothing to the marriage, had quickly dissuaded him.

  ‘You may be right, Agnes,’ he said. ‘But until such time as the order changes, the children are in my care and custody. I shall do all in my power to ensure their health and happiness, but children take ill and sometimes there is nothing to be done except pray.’

  Something in his tone made her skin crawl.

  He straightened in his chair and tapped the note again. ‘Enough of this. What is it that you have to tell me?’

  She took a steadying breath. ‘I have been thinking much on our conversation in London,’ she said, ‘and I may have recalled something of use to you in relation to the valuable property you mentioned.’

  ‘May have recalled something?’ Tobias’s lip curled back in derision, showing yellowing teeth beneath the straggly hairs of his moustache.

  Agnes ploughed on. ‘This is an old house, Tobias, riddled with hiding places. What exactly is it you seek? If I knew then I may have a better recollection of hints James may have dropped.’

  Pulling at the ends of his moustache, Tobias narrowed his eyes. ‘Your paramour,’ he said with a snarl, ‘was responsible for the theft of a shipment of gold. We believe the gold may be hidden here.’

  Agnes made a pretence of surprise. ‘Gold? What makes you think it is still here and not already with the K … Charles Stuart?’

  ‘Because our agents at the court of Charles Stuart report that someone has been dispatched to recover it.’

  This genuinely surprised Agnes. Did he mean Daniel?

  ‘You have spies at the exiled court?’

  He waved a hand. ‘Of course we do. Charles Stuart does not sneeze without us knowing.’

  ‘Who is this man who has been sent?’

  Tobias shook his head. ‘Unfortunately, our informant did not have that information. A stranger at court was all he could tell us.’

  So Daniel’s identity was safe for the moment.

  ‘You had James in custody for months; why did you not ask him directly?’

  ‘Oh, we did – even showed him how he could be persuaded if we had a mind.’

  A sick knot of fear and revulsion gathered in Agnes’s stomach. ‘James said nothing of being tortured.’

  Tobias gave a huff of humourless laughter. ‘It is not politic to torture Earls,’ he replied. ‘Now, let us stop this prevaricating, Agnes. You have my word that you can spend time with the children. Just tell me where the gold is hidden.’

  Agnes cast a glance at the door and took a few steps toward Tobias, lowering her voice. ‘There is a hiding place in the room James used as a study,’ she began.

  Tobias threw up his hands. ‘I know of that one. It was empty. Do not forget, Agnes, I knew this house as a child and James and I spent many a long hour looking for its secret places. I’m not the fool you take me for.’ He leaned forward, so close their foreheads almost touched. ‘This is not about the gold. You want the children.’

  Agnes raised her chin, looking the man in the eye. ‘Of course you are correct; I am motivated by the greater desire to see the children are safe and well. I assure you, I have no interest in the King’s gold. If I find it for you, then it is yours to do with what you will. I tell you truthfully that I well recall the night that the gold arrived. At the time, James secured it in his study. If it is not there then he must have moved it alone.’

  Ashby turned away from her, pacing the room several times. ‘That is not enough, Agnes.’

  She shook her head. ‘It is everything I know, Tobias. But in my time here, James showed me many of the hiding places in this house. Grant me time to search my memory and we will see if my knowledge is the same as yours.’

  Tobias tugged at his beard and rose to his feet. ‘You have until dusk tomorrow night. If the gold has not been located you will leave this place and never return.’

  Agnes nodded.

  Taking a few steps toward the door, she said, ‘May I go to the children now?’

  Tobias waved a dismissive hand. ‘Go. I am not the monster you think me, Agnes. The children have missed you and it may cheer them to see something of you.’ He nodded.

  Relief flooded Agnes, and she found herself feeling genuinely grateful to this man.

  He continued, ‘I will see you at supper. In the meantime, think hard on your situation, Agnes. You have until tomorrow.’

  ‘You wish me to dine with you?’

  He turned to face her, his face a hard mask. ‘Of course. You are my guest, are you not? Or do you prefer to eat alone in your chamber, with my man at your door?’

  ***

  “The children guard the secret,�
�� James had written.

  Just one secret? The bitter thought twisted like a knife in Agnes’s heart. James had harboured many secrets and hidden them well.

  She walked slowly along the corridor that led to the children’s nursery, counting off the doors to the unused bedchambers. The children occupied a large room at the end of the corridor. She opened the door of the bedchamber adjacent to it and peered in. The only furniture was a dusty bed without mattress or hangings, a table, and a chest. She paused, squinting at the wall abutting the nursery. Just to be certain she walked back into the corridor and into the bedroom again several times.

  Her heart skipped a beat. She had never noticed that the internal dimensions of this room did not match the external. At least four feet abutting the nursery were unaccounted for. She had been right. All she had to do now was to locate the entrance in the nursery.

  An unfamiliar thrill of anticipation ran down her spine.

  Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and walked into the all-too-familiar room. which served as both bedchamber and nursery. As the children were still considered little, they shared the massive oak bed with its heavy red woollen hangings.

  The children were alone with a sour-faced nursery maid, who sat by the fire darning stockings. What had Sarah called her? Hannah? Lizzie sat beside her, apparently engaged in needlework.

  Hannah glanced up, a frown creasing her disagreeable face. ‘Who are you?’ she demanded without rising to her feet.

  Agnes drew herself up. It was hard to be imperious when you barely touched five feet but she did her best.

  ‘I am Mistress Fletcher,’ she said. ‘I am aunt to these children and sister-in-law to the late Earl. I expect better manners of you, young woman.’

  Hannah flushed, set down her sewing, rose to her feet, and bobbed a curtsey.

  ‘Sorry ma’am,’ she stuttered, the words clearly galling her.

  ‘What is your name?’ Agnes demanded while she held the upper hand.

  ‘Hannah, ma’am.’

  ‘Leave us, Hannah,’ Agnes ordered.

  Hannah shuffled her feet and looked at the toes of her shoes. ‘Mistress Turner —’ she began.

  Agnes fixed the girl with a hard stare. ‘I will answer to Mistress Turner. I have the consent of the children’s guardian to spend some time alone with them. Go.’

  Mumbling to herself, the nursery maid left the room, no doubt in search of Leah Turner.

  At once the atmosphere lightened. Henry ran to Agnes, almost tripping over his skirts in his haste. She took him in her arms and held him tight, pressing her face into his soft, downy head until he began to squirm. Lizzie set her needlework down and, with more dignity than Henry, crossed the floor to Agnes’s embrace.

  ‘Are you staying, Aunt Agnes?’ Lizzie asked.

  If only … Agnes thought.

  ‘I’m just here on a very short visit,’ she said.

  ‘You’re not coming back to live here?’ Henry’s lower lip began to tremble.

  ‘Not for a little while,’ Agnes replied, conscious that her own smile lacked conviction.

  ‘But you will come back?’ Lizzie insisted.

  Agnes looked into the girl’s knowing eyes. ‘I can’t make promises, Lizzie,’ she said. ‘Believe me when I say this is not my doing.’

  Lizzie pouted. ‘No, it’s Cousin Tobias. He wants Father’s title.’

  ‘Lizzie! You will not speak ill of Cousin Tobias. He is your legal guardian.’ She smiled. ‘I’m here now. Shall we play a game?’

  ‘A game? But Mistress Turner has forbidden —’ Lizzie began.

  ‘Mistress Turner is not here and she does not need to know.’

  ‘Spillikins?’ suggested Henry.

  ‘How about hide and go seek?’ Agnes said. ‘I will count to fifty and you two must hide somewhere in this room.’

  The children grinned at her.

  Agnes covered her eyes and began to count. She smiled at the sound of giggling and the children’s feet pattering on the floorboards.

  ‘No, Henry, you can’t hide with me,’ she heard Lizzie whisper.

  ‘Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty … coming, ready or not!’ Agnes said.

  The entrance to the hidden cavity had to be concealed somewhere in the wall adjoining the room next door, a wall lined with heavy oak panelling of some age and covered in a large, moth-eaten tapestry of Noah’s Ark. She wondered if Tobias in his searching had even thought of looking in the children’s nursery. As she contemplated the length of the wall, she hoped it would not take her too long to find.

  ‘Are you hiding?’ she called out, and was rewarded by Henry’s squeak from behind the bed hangings.

  She made a show of searching out the two children, finding Lizzie hiding under the bed. They both pretended to be stumped about Henry’s whereabouts, despite the shoes peeping out from beneath the hangings and the barely stifled chuckles.

  The children begged her to play again, which she was happy to do. After the third round, Lizzie looked up at her with a frown.

  ‘Why do you keep looking at the tapestry?’ she said. ‘I won’t hide there. That’s where the ghost lives.’

  Agnes blinked. The ghost? It was the first she’d heard of a ghost – at least in this part of the house.

  ‘When did you see the ghost?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.

  Lizzie frowned in concentration. ‘A long time ago … before Father went to London. It was summer and I was hot in the bed, so I had pulled back the curtain a little way.’

  ‘What did you see?’

  ‘A man all in black. He walked straight through that wall.’ Lizzie pointed melodramatically at the tapestry.

  ‘Were you scared?’ Agnes asked.

  Lizzie shook her head. ‘No. He looked a bit like Father.’

  Probably because he was, Agnes thought.

  She gathered the child into her arms. Henry, feeling left out, jumped at them, knocking them to the ground. They subsided into a giggling, happy pile on the floor.

  ‘What is this?’ The outraged voice from the doorway froze them.

  Lizzie and Henry found their feet and cowered behind her skirts as Agnes rose to face Leah Turner. The maid, Hannah, lurked behind her mistress, a tight-lipped smile on her face. Leah’s already pale face seemed drained of all colour, her lips an invisible line of outrage.

  She pointed a finger at the children. ‘You … and you … there will be no supper for either of you.’

  ‘Mistress Turner. The children are not to blame. We were playing … ’ Agnes protested.

  It seemed impossible that Leah’s eyebrows could rise any higher. ‘Playing?’

  ‘Hide and go seek,’ Agnes said.

  The colour rose in Leah’s face. ‘We do not play games in this house. As I feared, you are a vile influence, Mistress Fletcher. Leave this room at once.’

  Two pairs of small hands clutched Agnes’s skirts.

  ‘Don’t leave us,’ Lizzie sobbed, terror rising in her voice. ‘She’ll beat us. I know she will. She beats us all the time. She has a birch stick –’

  Agnes straightened. ‘I will not be dismissed like a common servant. I am aunt by blood to these children and I am here with the consent of their guardian. I am not leaving them until I am ready to do so and if I choose to lighten their lives by playing games, I will.’

  Leah turned to Hannah. ‘Fetch Brown and Simpson.’

  Hannah turned and scurried away and Leah took a step into the room.

  ‘You have cosseted these children to the point where they are ungovernable. They need discipline. They need to have the Word of the Lord beaten into their spoiled little minds.’

  ‘Beat them? I will not permit you to touch them. I was mistress here before ever you were and their father entrusted these children to me before his death.’

  Leah’s lip curled. ‘But he failed to confirm his instructions in a will, or so I am told. Tobias … Colonel Ashby is their legal guardian. We will see how much influence
you hold in this house.’

  Two burly soldiers appeared in the door, one of them Trooper Brown. Leah turned to face them. ‘Take her,’ she pointed at Agnes. ‘And secure her in her chamber.’

  As the men entered the room, Agnes backed away with her arms around the two children. ‘How dare you,’ she said. ‘I am not to be treated this way.’

  ‘Don’t make trouble.’ The soldier who must be Simpson reached out to grab her arm.

  Agnes batted his hand away. ‘Don’t touch me.’

  ‘You,’ Leah indicated Brown. ‘Take the children.’

  Brown lunged at Henry, who screamed, trying to get further behind Agnes’s skirts, but the man got a purchase on him, lifting him away from her and holding him at arm’s length to protect himself from Henry’s kicking feet. Agnes swung around to defend the child and in that instant Simpson grabbed her around the waist, knocking her feet from underneath her and pulling her away from the two children.

  With the hysterical cries of the children resounding in her ears, Agnes was borne away in the iron grip of the soldier. Kicking and struggling availed her nothing and as they reached the top of the stairs she stopped resisting.

  ‘Put me down,’ she said, employing her most glacial tone. ‘I demand to be taken to Colonel Ashby on my own two feet, not carried like a sack of potatoes.’

  The man glanced at Leah who nodded. He set her down but kept a tight grip on her arm as they descended the stairs.

  Not since she was nine years old and had been caught stealing apples from the orchard had Agnes felt so humiliated. She stood before Tobias, her hands clasped penitentially before her and her gaze lowered as Leah recited her crimes.

  ‘Tobias … ’ Agnes began.

  ‘Address the Colonel properly,’ Leah cut in. Standing beside Tobias, Leah bristled with self-righteous indignation.

  ‘Colonel Ashby,’ Agnes shot Leah a sharp glance. ‘I know we all have the children’s best interests at heart.’

  ‘And their best interests are not served by unseemly romping in the nursery,’ Leah cut in. ‘The children are wild and undisciplined, Colonel.’

  Tobias stroked the end of his moustache, his gaze on Agnes.