Abigail Moor (10 page)

“Yes, Miss
Hammond, sorry, miss.”

Mr Ashton gave
no protest as the woman obediently followed on. Instead he gestured
to Abigail that she should make herself comfortable upon a tapestry
chair by the table and he seated himself opposite ignoring Martha
who stood to the side. “Now what is it that you have for me?”

With some
apprehension Abigail pulled the letter from its place of safety and
handed it to him. Martha stood by the door watching on, with one
eye on the outside doorway.

Mr Ashton
scratched his balding head and tutted loudly. “Your father wishes
me to draw up certain papers regarding your… birthright, and…” He
smiled at her. “However, he wrote this some two years ago, but for
some reason he has never seen to it being fulfilled. How very
strange; one wonders why ever not. ” He glanced at Abigail in a
peculiar manner that made her feel very uneasy.

“He is ill, Mr
Ashton. He asks that you visit Beckton Manor immediately with a
trusted and reliably independent doctor. He is under Mr Frederick’s
control and lays ill abed, not able to do his own bidding. I am
greatly concerned for him and his future well-being.”

“As well you
should be, my dear young lady. Of course Mr Frederick is seeing to
his affairs, as is only right…”

She stood up to
speak. “I beseech you. Please do as my father asks, sir. He has
seen Frederick in his true nature. He gloats over Father and myself
and seeks to marry me off to a strange man and…”

“Calm yourself,
my dear child. All shall be handled well. You are going through
such a traumatic time. Life changes as it must, we all do -
Ecclesiastes 3. ‘There is a time for everything and…’”

Abigail looked
down, feeling lost. This man was one of Frederick’s friends. She
realised that her cause was totally useless. Her heart felt heavy
with worry for her poor father, but what else could she do? “Mr
Ashton, will you do as Father asks? Will you send the very best
medic that York has to offer and also independent legal
representation?”

“Why, of course
I must. Everything shall be done right and proper. I have a visitor
awaiting me in my office, and shall be only a few moments, and then
we will arrange to return to the manor together.”

There was a
knock on the door.

“Yes, yes,
enter.”

A tray was
brought in on which a silver teapot and china cups had been
carefully placed.

“Ah, there you
are, my dear. You have a sweet drink and I shall be back before you
know I’ve even gone away.” He muttered something to himself and
disappeared with the letter in his hand.

Abigail looked
to Martha whose ear was immediately placed firmly against the door.
She put her hand up to stop Abigail speaking for a moment. When
Abigail saw Martha gritting her teeth and shaking her head she knew
her worst suspicions had been correct.

Martha hurried
over to her as she heard the outside door open and shut.

“He’s sending
word to Mr Frederick straight away,” Martha whispered.

“Quickly, we
shall have to go.” Abigail stood.

Martha turned
to open the door Ashton had left through, but Abigail could hear
voices outside.

“This way!”
They retraced their steps back to the first waiting room then as
swiftly as they could, slipped out of the room and exited the
building to the street. “We need our baggage, Abigail. We have to
leave this place,” Martha said, as they both hurried along the
street back to the Phoenix Inn.

Abigail’s heart
was full of woe and regret. She had let Ashton take the letter. Now
she only had the precious note he had written to her as any solace
and had not even had the chance to read the first one.

Abigail and Martha did not stop until they were well away from the
offices of Mr Ashton. They had seen the tall clerk, dressed in
black, run out onto the street shouting at two boy runners to look
for them, so, like hunted animals, they had disappeared down the
narrow snickets and made for the huge gothic minster. There they
hid within its grandeur to catch their breath. Abigail looked up at
the huge arches and highly coloured windows. The light stone, so
beautiful in its structure, took her breath away; magnificent, she
thought. Abigail wished she could stay there, safe until her life
could return to what had previously been her normality. But in her
heart she knew that could never be.

“Martha, we
have to find a way out of here,” Abigail said, but was also
thinking about how to throw the hounds off their scent and buy them
some much needed time.

“We could try
the door.” Martha pointed to the huge main entrance.

“Come with me.”
Abigail ignored her tone and walked boldly up to a member of the
cathedral staff, dressed in his black cassock. “Excuse me, but
could you tell me where I might purchase a ticket on a stagecoach
destined to London?”

The man looked
a little taken aback by this abrupt approach, but he smiled at her
politely. “The London coach will leave from the Castle Tavern at
midday. If they have room then you can purchase your ticket there.”
He bowed politely at her.

“Thank you,
sir.” She turned to a slightly bemused Martha. “Come, woman,”
Abigail ordered, and boldly strolled down the central aisle of the
cathedral for all to see. Martha followed behind.

Once near the
main doors, Abigail skirted around the outside of the building to
the Tudor buildings that nestled behind it.

“So what was
that charade about?” Martha asked.

“Exactly that,
a pretence. I want to give the impression that we are going to
London.” Abigail paused outside a dressmaker’s shop. The rain had
begun to fall with a vengeance. Abigail turned away from the coat
which had caught her eye inside the shop; they had little option
but to return to the inn.

“Could you not
let me know what you’re doing before you go flouncing off like
that? You had my heart in a twirl.”

“A lady would
not consult her maid on such issues - you would be expected to
follow.” Abigail looked inside the shop and decided it would
do.

“Oh would she!”
Martha said indignantly.

After a sound few hours’ sleep, Joshua had woken and decided to
take a long walk. He had to find a place for Molly before he could
make his own travel arrangements. Joshua opened the narrow low door
and entered the smoky gloom of the tavern. The air was thick with
the smell of burning cheap tallow fat candles, ale and the smoke
from many a clay pipe. It was a habit he had never liked. He bought
a flagon of ale and sat with his back to the wall considering his
options. He had never had to be responsible for a young girl such
as Molly before. However, he had helped her and felt his duty of
care was clear.

The inn was already busy; all manner of people spilled in off the
streets. He liked to observe people. His time in the war had taught
him to be aware of his surroundings, to be watchful and to always
know where the doors were in case he needed to flee to fight
another day. The girl’s presence was unexpected. Joshua had seen
too many like her. War not only killed men in battle, it destroyed
families, young lives ruined before they had had a chance to live.
This girl’s plight, for some reason, touched him. She had not
accepted what seemed to be her obvious fate and had dared to run.
Fortunately, she had run into him.

He had not been
able to do anything to save Francesca’s life, but perhaps he could
give this waif a chance of one worth living. He rubbed his face.
Joshua was aware just how sentimental he was becoming. His men
would think he’d gone soft, losing the will to fight. Perhaps he
had. Who’d want a lame soldier anyhow?

Joshua smiled
to himself. Empty humour because twice he had been called a
gentleman by two very different damsels in distress, it appeared.
Neither knew the slightest thing about him, just simple gestures,
which he had made, and for a short time had taken his attention
away from his private thoughts as a distraction.

There was a
blast of fresh air as a large framed man slipped inside the inn,
carrying a heavy blackthorn walking stick. He held it six inches
below the smooth ball handle, so it was obviously not needed for
its normal use. He stood inside the door and looked around. Rain
had soaked his oilskin coat and now trickled down onto the rushes
strewn on the wooden floor.

He strode over
to the counter. “I’m looking for a girl!” he announced loudly.

A young woman
stepped forward, her breasts spilling out of her dress. She smiled
at him and placed both her hands on her hips, bearing yet more of
her flesh.

He got hold of
her wrist and pulled her ungraciously over to his side. “Aye,
you’ll do for later. But it isn’t a whore I am looking for now. I’m
looking for a young lass what’s run away from home; answers to the
name of Molly.”

The woman tried
to pull her arm away, but he held her fast. “You offered - so now
you stay!” A look of fear crossed the tired face of the wench.

The innkeeper
stood before him. “We don’t have any young girls here and we
doesn’t want any trouble, mister.”

“I heard she
took a ride on the coach – against regulations that is.” The man
stared around the gloomy room.

The innkeeper
noticed the two women who had arrived on the coach return, soaked,
and saw them rush up the stairs, so he glanced directly at Joshua,
before answering. “The coach has gone on its way. There is no girl
staying here.”

“You there, you
came in on the coach?” he shouted at Joshua. People fell
silent.

“Who is it that
wishes to know?” Joshua placed his flagon back on the table and
stared at the approaching man.

“My name is
Amos Drab and I am her guardian.” He walked over to Joshua
releasing the woman’s arm. She rubbed her bruised skin where his
grip had tightened, and slipped out the back of the inn.

“Yes, I
did.”

“You see a
young lass? Scrap of a thing clutching a small bag.” Drab was now
at his table, towering over Joshua.

“There were two
single gentlemen, a married couple, a lady and her maid, my ward
and myself. I don’t recall a girl on her own.” Joshua stared
directly at him. The lady’s maid had come back down the stairs with
an empty jug. She had heard him, as had most of the people in the
room.

“Damn that
brat! Takes me food and runs off. I’ll have her publicly flogged,
when I catch her!” He turned back to the innkeeper. “I need a room
and the wench. Send her to me.”

“The rooms are
full, sir. You best try down the road.” The innkeeper replied and
returned to his counter.

Drab balled a
fist and gripped his stick, but three men stood between him and the
innkeeper. “The inn’s full!” repeated one of them.

“I’ll be back
before the London coach arrives, and I’ll be watching this place.”
Drab waved his stick, cursed and left.

Joshua stood
up, limping as he made his way to the stairs.

“You did a
kindly thing there, sir,” Martha commented as he passed. The
younger man smiled at her and winked as he carefully climbed the
stairs.

Molly was
sitting on the chair hugging her bundle to her. He gave her a plate
with ham and bread on it, and a tankard of milk. “Have this. I need
to explain something to you.”

She took the
plate eagerly, dropped her things by her feet and took the tankard
from him.

“Drab was here
looking for you.”

The girl nearly
dropped the plate. He held it firmly in his own hand.

“I sent him
away. He doesn’t know you are here, but he may be around. I aim to
get you safely away. However, it will not be easy. You must trust
me and I must delay my journey. It would appear we are to have a
little adventure.”

Molly
nodded.

The rain continued to pour. By the time the evening sitting was
called for dinner, Joshua decided he would eat in the inn, but did
not want Molly to show her face below stairs, so she had to stay in
their room out of Drab’s vision.

He followed the
two women who he had met on the coach down the stairs. The maid
turned to him and smiled. “Has the lass got some food, sir? Best
not let her be seen here, wise eh?”

He nodded. “I
will have someone send her food up.”

Abigail looked
at Martha. “Why don’t you check on her whilst we find somewhere to
sit?” she offered.

Martha
hesitated but then Joshua gave her a winning look. “I would be
grateful, I am hardly experienced in looking after a young...
ward.”

“Very well. I
will have our food sent up there, but Mrs Moor, please return
promptly as soon as you have eaten. This is no place for a young
woman on her own.”

“She isn’t.”
Joshua smiled. “I will escort her back to the room.”

“Hmm.” Martha
went to see one of the serving women.

The food was plain, but warming. The tables were busy and it was
all that Abigail could do to eat. Private conversation with this
fascinating man was impossible. The conversation on the table was
dominated by the weather and the lack of good sport as a
consequence. It was with relief that Captain Rusk asked her if she
was ready to return upstairs.

Once in the
quiet corridor, neither seemed in a hurry to return. He paused as
the last step up had caused him to flinch and then he had an uneven
gait as he took another step. Abigail wanted to offer her arm for
support, but the pride of the man was strong, she could feel it, as
she could sense his strength of character.

“Mrs Moor, I am
sorry that we have not had chance to become better acquainted.”

Abigail sensed
his words were genuine. “Perhaps if we are meant to then fate will
decree it, sir.”

“Perhaps,” he
said, as they stood by her door.

She felt her
cheeks warm as her heart did. “Goodnight, sir,” she said quietly
and opened her door.