Christina Hollis (26 page)

Jack squeezed her arm with a cheerful smile. Madeleine could only hope his confidence was well founded.

It was nearly four o’clock in the morning when the Adamsons’ carriage drew up outside a fashionable town house overlooking Cheltenham’s prettiest gardens.

‘I’m afraid my house is always in total chaos, Mademoiselle Madeleine. My parents, on the other hand, are tremendous hosts and like nothing better than to entertain on my behalf.’

Helping her down from the carriage he leapt up a flight of pale, well-scrubbed steps and rapped upon the front door.

‘The staff aren’t up much before half-past four, Mademoiselle Madeleine!’ He laughed at the delay while they stood together on the front doorstep. Although it was still summer the air was chill, and fine wisps of condensation drifted about them in the half dark.

At last the door was opened by a dishevelled butler. Behind him, in the shadows, lurked an elderly man armed with an even older gun.

‘Good God, son! What’s the meaning of this? It’s the middle of the night!’

‘The best time of day!’ Jack said brightly, bundling Madeleine past the sleepwalking butler and into the house. ‘There’s been an awful business at the county ball, Father. Can you help Philip? Oh, and this is his fiancée, Mademoiselle Madeleine Allobroge.’

Mr Pritchard put down his gun, flicked back the tassel of his nightcap and kissed Madeleine’s offered hand solemnly. She hadn’t got over being referred to as Philip’s fiancée, and could only manage the faintest of greetings.

‘He’s in the most desperate of straits, Pa. Please say you’ll help him...’

The old man’s face fell. ‘Murder, is it?’

‘No. Money.’

Mr Pritchard turned away from Madeleine and addressed his butler.

‘Hicks—fetch the young lady a blanket and some tea. Then see to the coachman.’

When the butler had left, Mr Pritchard flicked a quizzical glance at Madeleine.

‘Entertain the young lady in my study, Jack. But I’ll be damned if I can think straight in my nightshirt. I’ll be back directly I’m more decent.’

Madeleine followed Jack into the study. The cold room smelled faintly of spirits and soot.

‘Did you know anything of this business, Mademoiselle Madeleine?’

‘Master Philip told me of certain...difficulties, yes.’

‘Then that’s more than he said to me.’

There was a sullen undertone in Jack’s voice Madeleine knew she had to remedy. To lose two friends in one night was far more than she could bear.

‘He wouldn’t have wanted to presume on your friendship, Master Jack.’

Jack made an expansive noise and moved restlessly to the window. Pushing back the lace festoon, he looked out for the dawn.

‘That’s a laugh. He knows I’ve got even less money than he has.’

He didn’t turn away from the window for a long time. Madeleine wondered how much more upset Jack would be if he learned Philip had entrusted her with Kitty’s secret, too.

Mr Pritchard arrived at the same time as tea and a pile of hot buttered toast. Madeleine couldn’t face the thought of food, even though she had not eaten for hours.

The Pritchards tried to help Madeleine relax and feel at home, but it wasn’t easy. Matters became even more strained when Mr Pritchard settled himself at his desk and put on a serious face.

‘Now, Madeleine. Do you know how much young Philip owes?’

‘Eight hundred and fifty pounds that I know of, sir.’

Pritchard and his son exchanged a glance that was all too easy for Madeleine to interpret. The elderly man tapped the end of a pen against his teeth, then smiled at her kindly. ‘And would you know what proportion of that was principal, and how much is interest?’

Madeleine frowned, but, forgetting his earlier resentment, Jack leaned forward and explained the terms.

‘Oh, all eight hundred and fifty is principal, then,’ she said quickly. Both men were horrified. In his distraction Jack went back to the window, but Mr Pritchard was more practical.

‘Young Adamson has always been sensible enough in the past. I’m sure he wouldn’t have borrowed more than was absolutely necessary. It’s a pity the figure had to be so large, though.’

After some rapid scribbling on the notepaper before him, Mr Pritchard leaned towards Madeleine. ‘I’m sure we can come up with something, although it might take a little time. As soon as I can persuade my bank to let me stand surety for Philip, he’ll be home again.’

Jack looked back at his father suddenly. ‘It’s such a lot of money—are you sure you can take the risk?’

‘Of course.’ Mr Pritchard regarded his son gravely. Looking down, he sifted through the pages of calculations he had been making, lips pursed in concentration. ‘In the unlikely event of you ever having had more than a penny to your name, Jack, would you have any hesitation in helping him out?’

‘Not the slightest. Even if he didn’t trust me enough to tell me at the outset.’

‘There you are, then.’

There was a hopeful tone in Mr Pritchard’s voice, but Madeleine was more concerned with Jack. She realised he was still upset that she had shared the secret, and not him. Standing up, she went to him at the window.

‘Philip didn’t say anything to you because he knew you’d feel duty bound to help.’

Jack shrugged. ‘How do you work that out? He knows I don’t have a bean.’

‘Then he also knows you would have done your best, even if it meant getting into trouble yourself.’

‘We must all do our best from now on, Mademoiselle Madeleine. I have to go away on business—there’s no escaping that, I’m afraid—and until I can get back and visit my bank Jack will be in charge. Now, off you go and get some rest. Mrs Hicks will show you up to a room.’

‘But what about picking Miss Jemima up from her school? And who’s going to look after Mistress Constance? And the dairying? Fine companion I’m turning out to be...’

‘Don’t you start worrying about any of that! I’ll sort something out.’ Jack winked at her, a little mollified. ‘And I’ll fetch you up something more suitable for prison visiting!’

Madeleine hadn’t expected to see Philip ever again. After all, the Bastille back at home had hardly greeted visitors with open arms.
        As it happened, Pickersgill was unable to resist even more mischief-making which had worked to Philip’s advantage in a macabre way. When Madeleine accompanied Jack to the lock-up they were not taken down the line of cages packed with wretched men, women and children.

Instead they were led away from the pleading, screaming throng. A narrow, hot little corridor sloped down and away from the communal cells. Madeleine hung on to Jack’s arm as they crunched along the filth-encrusted passageway. This place never saw the sun or good air, let alone a mop and bucket.

The smell was less here than the hot stench that rose from the warrens, but it was still far from pleasant. Madeleine kept her eyes riveted on the slovenly warder who led them to a small worm-eaten door. She was afraid of what she might see lurking in the shadowy corridor.

The room serving as solitary confinement, isolation ward and broom cupboard was little bigger than one of Willowbury’s ox-stalls. Mistress Constance would have been horrified to think of animals being held in such squalor, much less Philip.

With no windows the room was insufferably hot and fetid. When the warder begrudgingly lit a candle-end it brought no cheer.

‘Wait here for a minute.’ Jack squeezed her arm lightly and went forward to his friend. Madeleine was left to listen to the scuffling of rats and roaches and a sinister dripping from somewhere close at hand.

Under the eagle eye of the warder Jack put down his medical bag and began fussing around his friend. To each whispered question and smiling encouragement the answer was either a shake of the head or a muttered reply Madeleine could not hear.

Finally Jack called her forward. What Madeleine saw when she reached them made her fall on her knees in front of the beleaguered prisoner. One side of his face was blackened with bruises. Both of his hands had been heavily strapped with Jack’s bandaging.

‘Oh, Philip—what have they done to you?’

He tried to laugh. ‘Pickersgill put it about that I was the type to torment ladies. The lads here take exception to that sort of thing. I was moved to this place to save their boot studs. The wardens don’t have much more sympathy. They say nothing ails me that can’t be cured by a short dance on the end of a rope.’

‘Phil—don’t...’

‘There’s no use in hiding from the truth, Jack. I’m ruined, and Mother with me. And before I had a chance to thank you for our dance last night, Mademoiselle Madeleine. But perhaps it is a blessing in disguise that I got no further with our conversation on the terrace...’

He grimaced suddenly, putting one hand to the side of his face. The dank little room swam with a strong medicinal scent as Jack poured oil on to a soft cloth for Philip’s aching jaw.

He accepted the preparation gladly, then waved Jack away. His friend retreated, but the warden steadfastly refused to move. Expecting another confidence, Madeleine moved closer, uncaring of the filth that she might be kneeling in.

Putting one bandaged hand on her shoulder, he bent close but could say nothing. Sensing that their time together was short, Madeleine began quickly.

‘We’re doing everything we can...’ Madeleine wanted to tell him of her contact with Michael, but could hardly bear to raise his hopes. Then he looked at her with a longing gaze that reached right down into her soul.

Madeleine could not take him by the hands as they looked too painful. Instead she stroked his wrist where the fine white linen had been torn and ruined.

‘I’ve written to Michael,’ she said at length. ‘I’ll write again to tell him of this—he’s sure to come back and help...’

Philip moaned and closed his eyes.

There was no time for modesty now. His touch, when it came, was gentle as air against her cheek.

‘There isn’t time... Why didn’t you tell me before?’

Tears were already beginning to spill from Madeleine’s eyes. ‘I wanted it to be a surprise—’

‘Is he coming home?’

Madeleine’s silence told its own story. ‘I won’t let them treat you so cruelly!’ She looked up at him in desperation. ‘I must help you, whatever it costs...is there anything you want? Anything that I can do?’

‘The best thing you can do for me is to tell me you love me, Madeleine. That, and tell me you would have accepted the proposal I was going to make on the terrace last night...’

Madeleine looked up into his poor battered face and felt her heart snap in two.

‘I didn’t know...’

‘You do now.’

It was all too much. Madeleine lay her head in Philip’s lap, and he bore her sobs despite his injuries.

‘Well?’ He bent down to whisper close to her ear. ‘What would the answer have been, Mademoiselle Madeleine?’

She choked back her sobs and smeared the tears from her eyes. ‘Philip—dearest...last night...oh, last night I would have accepted...’

He laid one swollen hand tentatively upon her shoulder.

‘But not today?’

‘We should have talked about this before—I wouldn’t have let things go on for so long if I’d realised...’

‘Madeleine? Is the answer yes or no?’

‘I can’t bear to see you like this. Your mother is so upset...and Jack... Oh, Philip, I’ll do anything to save you!’

‘Anything except marry me.’

His hand dropped lifelessly from her shoulder. Madeleine lifted her head and stared into the darkness all around them.

‘When—when you know everything, you’ll see that it isn’t me that can’t accept you, but the other way about. I couldn’t ever hold you to any proposal you made, Philip, however much I love you...’

‘Why?’

He lifted her chin until she was looking directly into his steady grey eyes.

‘Time’s up!’

Tired of the whispered conversation, the warder jabbed Madeleine sharply with the toe of his boot. She laid her head in Philip’s lap again to feel the warmth of him one last time.

‘I love you...’ she began.

The hand he put out never reached her. Madeleine was pulled away roughly by the warder. In a moment the door was slammed on Philip’s words and the warder locked it noisily.

Mistress Constance was taken to stay at the Pritchards’ house in Cheltenham, well away from all the talk. Madeleine stayed until she was settled, but could not convince her that Philip would soon be home and safe and sound. She could hardly convince herself of that, either.
        It was late in the evening before Jack took Madeleine back to Willowbury. She slept for most of the way, waking only at an irregular movement of the carriage as it stopped.

Jack was leaning out of the open door and speaking to someone.

‘What is it?’

He sat back in his seat, leaving the door wide open. The driver was holding out a torch and within its light stood a tiny, woebegone figure. Madeleine thought she must be dreaming. Moving forward, she looked out, and straight into the pinched and windswept face of Kitty Pettigrew.

‘She’s run away,’ Jack said matter-of-factly. ‘Willowbury was the only place she could think of to take refuge, but the servants won’t let her in. And I can’t say I blame them. They’ve already had Pettigrew here searching for her. Although God knows why he bothered, after what Phil told me,’ Jack finished tartly.

‘Get in.’ Madeleine looked down on Kitty, but felt no malice now. She was too tired.

Kitty had lost all her gay abandon. Creeping forward, she looked small, afraid and chilled to the marrow in her thin, fashionable dress.

‘Madeleine, have you lost all reason? At the very least her father’s helping to ruin Phil, and in any case she’s nothing but a shameless hussy! Don’t have anything to do with her!’

‘How far are we from Willowbury, Jack?’ Madeleine peered into the darkness.

‘About to turn into the drive—’

‘Very well then.’ Sweeping her cloak around her, Madeleine stepped past him and down to meet Kitty. ‘Thank you for all your help, Jack. It’s been much appreciated.’

‘Wait! Madeleine, I can’t let you walk—get back in at once!’

‘Only if Kitty can come, too.’