“Mistress Westlake?”
At the sound of her own name, Xanthe started. She peered at the man who now stood only a few feet from her.
“Joshua Appleby!” She felt quite weak with relief at seeing Samuel’s brother. “Oh, Joshua!”
“In the name of all that is holy, what are you doing out here, and in this weather? What has befallen you? No, do not trouble yourself to answer me. Come, I am on my way back to Marlborough. Let us get you into the carriage and out of this lethal cold.”
He put an arm around her and helped her up into the carriage. His traveling companions were two young men, one of whom was asleep, while the other was cheerfully drunk and offered her his hip flask. Xanthe took a gulp of the fiery brandy as Joshua wrapped a blanket around her.
“This is my good friend William Barnet, and the snorer is Thomas Howard. A reprobate and madman and the soundest fellow you will ever meet.”
“What?” William looked hurt. “No fine words for me? I am wounded, Joshua.”
“We have been to the house of a friend some miles north of Bath, a man of some renown. It is another in our attempts to gain Samuel’s release from Fairfax’s dread grip.”
Xanthe shook her head. “I came to try to help him. I think I have only made things worse!”
“You have seen him? You have been at the abbey?”
“Yes, but I was only permitted to see him briefly.”
“How does he fare?”
“He looked tired, but strong as ever.”
“My brother will not give his captor the satisfaction of seeing him brought low. Damn that creature!” Joshua thumbed the side of the carriage in anger and frustration. His sleeping companion stopped snoring but did not wake. William patted Joshua’s shoulder.
“Courage, my friend. All is not lost.”
Xanthe pulled the blanket tighter around her and took a long slow breath. She was not alone in trying to help Samuel. Of course his family were doing their utmost.
Joshua explained, “It is pure good fortune that we took it into our heads to return to Marlborough this night and not wait for the morrow. We feared the snow might render the route impassable by then.”
“I am so glad to see you, Joshua.”
“How came you to be on the high road in such a state and on such a night? You are near froze to death.”
“Fairfax … he wanted to keep me there, but I got away. I had to. I’m worried about what he will do to Samuel to get back at me. Oh God, I’ve been a fool.”
“But a pretty one,” William insisted.
Joshua threw him a look that silenced him.
“Do not take on so. You are clearly distressed and weary. We shall have Philpott make you one of his famous hot toddies the second we arrive home. And then you shall sleep. In the morning you can tell me what has happened.”
“Fairfax has sent his men to find me. We might meet them on the road.”
“And if we do I shall send them on their way. Now, rest.”
The events of the night, the effort of the walk, the warmth of the blanket, and the effects of the brandy combined to make Xanthe feel overwhelmingly sleepy. She rested her head on Joshua’s shoulder and let the rocking movement of the carriage send her to sleep for the remainder of the journey. The next thing she was aware of was cold air through the open door, voices, some loud and some shushing, and then Joshua helping her out of the carriage and into his house. His two friends bid their farewells and headed off to their own homes, swaying slightly as they stomped across the whitened green.
Loyal servant Philpott appeared at the door to welcome them, despite it being the small hours of the night. He took one look at Xanthe and hurried off to find a warm shawl and reviving brandied milk. Joshua ushered her into the small sitting room and stoked up the fire. When Philpott returned he spoke quietly to his master.
“Earlier this night your father was roused from his bed by a great hammering at the door.”
“Fairfax?”
“Not in person, sir, but his men, on horseback, sent in pursuit of Mistress Westlake.”
“They searched the house?”
“Your father would not allow it. He is not, after all, a man easily intimidated.”
“Saying no to Fairfax might be seen as foolhardy. Had I done such a thing my father would have berated me for my recklessness.”
“If I might venture to suggest, sir, had it been Master Fairfax himself, your father might have been obliged to comply.”
“True. Easier to send the henchmen off with a flea in their ear. They may well be back.”
Xanthe looked anxious.
“I am putting you all in danger just by being here.”
“This house will ever be a place of safe haven for you. Samuel would have it no other way, and nor would I. You are welcome here.”
“But Fairfax … I have enraged him. I refused his proposition.”
“Ha! He is certainly unaccustomed to being refused.”
“Worse … there was a scuffle. I wounded him. With a piece of glass.”
“The pity is you did not put an end to the unscrupulous villain.” Seeing a look of reproach from his servant, Joshua added, “Fear not, mistress. Fairfax will not want it widely known that he was bested by a maid. Whatever he wants from you, he will have to take you from us to obtain it. And do not forget, he still has need of Samuel, who will not do his bidding if he harms you.”
“It was Samuel I came here to help, now you are all having to help me.”
“Enough. Here, drink your toddy, warm yourself by the fire, and then, and only then, I will have your story from you.”
Once she had drunk half a glass of hot brandied milk and the feeling had returned, somewhat painfully, to her extremities, and Joshua was satisfied she was sufficiently recovered, she did her best to tell him what had happened. She had to tread carefully. It was hard to explain what had taken place in the observatory without mentioning time travel, either her own or the journeys Fairfax took. Her task was made easier by what Joshua already knew of the man. It was enough for her to suggest that he had asked something impossible of her, turned to violence, and that she had been forced to make her escape. Joshua was too gallant to ask for specifics. Too familiar with the ways a man might behave toward a woman, she recalled, remembering how he had come knocking on her door the first night she had stayed in the Appleby home. But Joshua was a decent man. He might have made inappropriate advances toward her, trying his luck, but he would never force himself upon her or anyone else.
“You say you saw Samuel when you were at the abbey. Were you able to speak to him alone?” Joshua asked, pulling her back to the present moment.
“Briefly.”
“And you consider him in good health?”
“He looked tired, tense, but otherwise well.”
“And the work? How near is it to completion?”
Xanthe turned and gazed into the fire. “Too near,” she said quietly, the events of the night and her fears for Samuel threatening to overwhelm her again. She needed to regain her strength to be able to think clearly about what she must do next. This was no time to let her emotions get the better of her. She turned back to Joshua.
“Tell me,” she said a little more brightly, “what news of my friends at Great Chalfield? Of Willis and Jayne and young Peter? I think of them often.”
“The household thrives, under the stern eye of Mistress Lovewell. Her husband continues to entertain on a lavish scale in order to impress men he would do better to turn away from.”
“But they keep their home safe, their servants secure in their work and their place to live?”
“They do. Willis creaks more with each passing winter but will never stop caring for his precious horses. He allows Peter to do a little more though I doubt he will ever entirely relinquish the reins. The boy is a child no longer but grows like a weed in a cornfield!”
Xanthe smiled at this, thinking of how small the boy had been for his age when she met him. Soon he
would be a young man. “He will be filling Willis’s shoes one day,” she said.
“God willing.”
“And Jayne?”
“The kitchen maid? The one who blushes so becomingly?”
“She would swoon simply to think you have noticed her existence. Mary was forever scolding her for lingering at windows when you were at the house.”
“It is a brave girl who risks the sharp edge of Mary’s tongue.”
“She considered it a small price to pay for a glimpse of you,” Xanthe teased him, enjoying a brief moment of respite from her own worries. “And Alice?” she asked carefully. “Have you had word of what happened to her after her release from jail?”
“She moved north. I believe Mistress Lovewell’s conscience pricked her into recalling a distant relative who had need of a personal maid.”
“I’m glad to hear it. A new position with a family who will accept her as she is, a girl with no family and a checkered past…”
“She owes you her life,” Joshua said, his naturally lively face somber for once. “Without your help she would surely have perished. I have heard such tales of the horrors of transportation.”
“I could not have saved her without Samuel, without all of you, Joshua. And now I must ask your help again.”
She was on the point of telling him that they had to find a way to get his brother out of Fairfax’s clutches, to spirit him far, far away, somewhere safe, and that she herself had to return to the abbey to search for her locket, but before she had time to speak again there came the sound of a carriage rattling across the cobblestones outside. Joshua ran to the window and opened the shutters a little to peer out.
“Fairfax’s carriage!” He turned, grasping Xanthe’s hand and pulling her to her feet. “Come!”
They ran from the room, along the flagstoned passageway, and out through the back door. The snowstorm beat against them as they hurried across the rear courtyard and into Samuel’s studio. Xanthe recalled the basement hoarde room he had shown her and knew, with a sense of mounting horror, where it was Joshua was taking her.
Sure enough, he snatched a candle from a wall sconce and they descended the steps into the cellar. He handed her the candle while he dragged sacks of flour to one side, moving them until a wooden floor was revealed. Xanthe could hear her own heartbeat against her eardrums as she watched him lift the concealed trapdoor. He took the candle from her and held it aloft over the narrow gap that was now exposed.
“Samuel showed you this?”
She nodded. “The priest hole.”
“There is no time to flee. You must get inside. Quickly now.”
Xanthe took her courage in both hands, refusing to listen to the voice inside her head that was screaming at the thought of being locked in such a tiny space. She climbed down into the void, unable to ignore the fact that it was, of necessity, shaped like a coffin. She lay down, reaching up for the candle, but Joshua shook his head.
“It would be too dangerous and would give you away.” He leaned over, squeezed her hand, and said quickly, “Fear not. Stay silent. I will return.”
And then he pulled the heavy lid back into place. Xanthe forced herself to breathe slowly. By the time he had replaced the flour sacks there was not the tiniest crack of light inside the hiding place. For a moment she feared she would have no air, and then she remembered Samuel telling her that when he constructed the priest hole he had built in a special duct that drew in air from outside. She heard Joshua’s dwindling footsteps, the cellar door shutting, and then silence. A silence so complete and heavy she feared it might crush her. She wished she could at least hear the moaning of the wind outside, or the rattling of tree branches against the studio windows. Anything at all, just to remind her that she was not entombed, that she was still alive. She thought about how Joshua would have to lie convincingly to Fairfax, who would be in no mood to believe him. What if he took Joshua away? No one else knew where she was. She told herself Master Appleby would look for her there, but then, if Philpott was taken away too, how was he to know she was even in the house? She could not afford to give way to panic. She had to use her imagination to take her to a different place. She tried to recall the words to the new song she had been learning. It was a ballad about a young girl who ran away to be with her soldier lover. It had been written a few years after the moment she now inhabited, after the terrible civil war that came later in the same century. She made herself remember, whispering the words, following the melody in her head.
“She up and left her father’s house / she took to the high road with no backward glance / ‘I’ll be a soldier’s bride ’ere the week is out…’” She stopped. She listened hard. She could hear doors opening and shutting. Footsteps. The house was being searched. Xanthe’s heart pounded. There were men above, in the studio, she was certain of it. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but the voices sounded angry, urgent. The cellar door opened and someone descended the stairs. As they walked upon the floorboards of the basement she felt the vibrations jarring through the hard wood of the tiny space she lay in. The pacing stopped. There were dragging sounds. The flour sacks were being moved! She was trapped now. There was nothing to do to stop herself being discovered. Before she could begin to think of the consequences of being found, of what that would mean for herself and all of Samuel’s family, the trap door was lifted and lamplight blinded her.
11
Xanthe instinctively put up her arm to shade her eyes from the sudden brightness and to ward off any blows that might come. She was astonished to hear her own name spoken breathlessly and by a voice she knew so well.
“Samuel?” She sat up, blinking, feeling him take hold of her hand. He helped her to her feet and took her in his arms.
“Xanthe! That you should have to be in here!”
“But how did you get away? The carriage—we thought Fairfax had come for me.”
Samuel released her, stepping back to look at her seriously. “You are in such peril because of me. Come, let us return to the warmth of the house. The cold causes you to tremble.”
Xanthe allowed him to lead her from the basement and back to the sitting room. Soon they were seated in front of the fire, joined by Joshua. Philpott brought more drinks and lingered, evidently determined to hear the explanation for his master’s sudden return.
Joshua helped himself to brandy without bothering to add it to milk.
“Brother, we are relieved to see you, but at a loss … how do you come to have the use of Fairfax’s carriage?”
Samuel stood in front of the fire, clearly too agitated to sit.
“While we were working in the new wing we became aware of a commotion. There were shouts, servants could be heard running. The apothecary was summoned.” He addressed Xanthe. “I questioned a footman and was told you had assaulted the master of the house and run out into the night. Fairfax had sent riders out after you but had been forced to tarry, being in need of attention. It seems you … wounded him, somehow?”
Xanthe nodded. “I was trying to leave. He was trying to stop me. I … I had to defend myself. There was broken glass.…”
Joshua gave a dry laugh. “Take notice, Samuel. Your fair friend has the courage to do what none of us has dared.”
“I didn’t think. I shouldn’t have hurt him,” Xanthe said. “I’ve only made things worse for you, Samuel. For all of you.”
Samuel frowned. “To think of him laying hands on you … you had every right to do what you must to protect yourself. And it seems your blow struck home. There were howls of rage and pain from the east wing for some time.”
“Pity the poor apothecary,” put in Joshua. “His would be a thankless task.”
“Whatever the risks,” Samuel explained, “he succeeded in binding Fairfax’s wounds. From what I was told, he was on the point of joining the search for you, Xanthe. He had his best horse readied, but then, as if by miraculous intervention, a messenger came from London.”
“From the king?”
A note of worry sounded in Joshua’s question.
“Yes. Fairfax was summoned. He was compelled to abandon his pursuit and head to court. As soon as he was gone I requested the carriage.”
Xanthe was confused. “But his servants, his men, they know you are being kept there. How did you persuade them to let you go?”
“They are expecting me to return with ‘essential pieces’ from my studio. I convinced them my work would be held up without these things and that I required the carriage to collect them. When they hesitated I insisted that if we waited the snow might become worse and they would have to answer to their master for the delay in the completion of his beloved house. Given his raving mood, they were not prepared to risk incurring his displeasure. I am pleased beyond words to find you here and unharmed, Xanthe. I must soon return to the abbey.”
Joshua was appalled at the thought. “So that Fairfax can take out his rage upon you on his return?”
“The driver waits for me,” Samuel reminded him. “I came only to see that you are safe and well. To flee now would be to condemn the man who let me go and the one who sits without this house to suffering Fairfax’s vengeful temper. I will not be the cause of such a fate for them.”
Xanthe searched for the words to properly convey to Samuel how she had failed to help him. “I know now what it is Fairfax wants,” she said slowly, “and … it is not something I can ever give.”
Secrets of the Chocolate House Page 17