Heirs of Acadia - 03 - The Noble Fugitive (23 page)

“This is Serafina. Mrs. Donatella’s niece. She will be serving as scullery maid for the time being.”

“And it’s wonderful to have the company, I’m sure.”

“You are to show her the proper duties and refrain from all else, is that clear?”

Not even her frosty retort could dim his exuberance. “Clear as the day itself, Mrs. Marcham.”

The housekeeper continued to Serafina, “The main rooms contain thirty-four fireplaces. You are to clean them out each morning and lay new kindling. But do not light them. The butler will do this himself, if required. You are to complete this first duty before the house awakens. You do not tend to the fires in the private rooms. Those will be seen to by the servants of each lord and lady. Each evening you will return through the rooms and fill the wood baskets and light any fires which require it.”

When the housekeeper paused, Serafina knew enough to respond, “Yes, Mrs. Marcham.”

“Between these duties you will serve at whatever task is assigned you by Cook.” She pulled out a miniature pocket watch pinned to her vest. “Now if you will excuse me, I must see to dinner preparations.”

As the housekeeper’s purposeful stride carried her away, Serafina turned back to the footman and said, “Thirty-four fireplaces?”

“And a heap of grand old stairs to climb between them.” This too did not dim his smile. “Never you mind. Tell me again what I should call you?”

At his ruddy complexion and stout good cheer, a tiny ray of hope found its way into Serafina’s leaden heart. “S-Serafina.”

“And what a lovely name that is. At this time of year, you won’t need but one basket of wood per fire. Come winter, now, we’ll all be puffing a good deal more from the work. But winter’s eons away and we’ve got a splendid roast pudding for our supper.” He clunked his ax down into the earth and picked up a pair of woven baskets—massive affairs as broad as Serafina’s outstretched arms. “Let’s fill these with kindling and I’ll show you about the old place.”

Chapter 16

A sailor would have called the morning very thin. Falconer stepped down from the carriage and sniffed the still air. He was in London, a city he did not know. A damp mist encased the world. He stood upon a square flanked by grand houses with a park across the way. Rows of trees lined the cobblestone lanes, they in turn showcasing stout Georgian townhouses.

Falconer rubbed his back and shoulders against the carriage frame, seeking to ease away the knots. He could not recall the last time he had felt this tired. He watched as a man he had roused from his bed not an hour earlier mounted the stairs three at a time and knocked on the front door. The man was named Daniel and claimed to be Gareth Powers’s former sergeant major. Falconer found no reason to doubt the man. Although Daniel’s long hair was now more gray than black, he still carried an impressive bulk about his massive frame. When the door did not open swiftly enough to suit him, Daniel pounded with a force that made Falconer wince.

The front door was flung back by a large, very cross woman in nightdress and matron’s cap. “What on earth do you . . . ?” her tirade began. Then she recognized the man looming over her. “Daniel!”

“Aye, Mattie. Is the missus here?”

“Where else would she be, the hour before dawn?” She glanced around the big man, taking in the carriage and horsemen. “Is there news?”

“What about the Aldridges, are they in?”

“Everyone’s fast asleep.”

“Go rouse them, Mattie, that’s a good girl.”

She returned her gaze to the former soldier. “You have news, don’t you. Is it the bairn? Tell me little Hannah is well.”

“I’ll tell you that and more. But only after you awaken the house. The missus deserves hearing my news first of all.”
Daniel waved at where Falconer stood by the carriage. “The man’s traveled day and night and day again, Mattie. Is there food?”

“Not yet, but there will be soon. Take him back to the kitchen.” Then she was gone.

“You can come up now, sir,” Daniel said to Falconer, then continued to the two men on the carriage, “You lads can hop down and stretch your legs.”

One of the horsemen objected, “We were ordered to never let Mr. Falconer out of our sight.”

“And I’m telling you he couldn’t be safer here if we locked him in the cellars of Westminster,” Daniel retorted.

“Make ready for a swift departure,” Falconer instructed the men. “I warrant they will supply us with fresh steeds so we can start back soon enough.”

Inside, the house was filled with a rising clamor. Doors banged and voices shouted. Feet ran to and fro. Falconer rubbed the weariness from his eyes and followed Daniel through the foyer and down the hall. A maid curtsied and offered Daniel a nervous smile. “Mattie says I’m to serve you coffee.”

“Grub,” he corrected. “The gentleman’s hollowed out.”

Falconer dusted the road off his coat and trousers. “Coffee will do.”

“Nonsense, if you don’t mind me saying it, sir. When was the last time you had a hot meal?”

“I don’t remember.”

“There, you see?” Daniel said. “A soldier always eats when it’s on offer, and Mattie keeps as fine a kitchen as any you’ll find in London town.” He turned back to the maid. “Kippers and ham and fresh-baked bread, that’s the ticket.”

“I’ll see to that.” The maid rushed back to the kitchen with her message, and the two men heard Mattie say, “Go find me a robe so I can look halfway decent for the guests. I was just up to light the kitchen fire when this great hulking gent here comes and disturbs my morning.”

Daniel led Falconer into the kitchen. The maid swiftly returned with a quilted robe, handed it to the cook, and asked fearfully, “Is there news?”

“Aye, and it must wait for the missus,” Mattie complained, banging her pots. “Though how a body is expected to survive such dread, I haven’t a clue.”

“What I’ve heard of the news is good,” Daniel assured them. “But the rest must wait for Mrs. Powers.”

“Praise be all the saints in heaven,” Mattie said. “You men sit yourselves down. The two of you standing here crowds the very air, you’re so big.”

But before they could settle in, there came a rush of feet down the stairs. Two women came in—very different in appearance, yet both cut from the same cloth, or so it seemed to Falconer. They wore robes over nightclothes, hair tumbling down in nighttime disarray. Yet there was nothing sleepy about their expressions. Both looked alarmed and clung to one another with frantic hope. One demanded breathlessly, “You have news?”

“Are you Mrs. Powers?”

“I am,” said the taller of the two.

He bowed. “John Falconer at your service, ma’am. I bring warm greetings from your husband, who instructed me to say he longs to see you again.”

The two women were joined by a man of severe bearing. He rested one hand upon the shoulder of each woman and held them close. Erica Powers asked in an imploring voice, “And my baby?”

“Hannah is quite well, ma’am, and also sends her love.”

“Finally,” the smaller woman murmured, “our prayers have been answered.”

The cook clasped her hands to her ample middle and whispered, “Thank you, Lord Jesus. Thank you.”

“Then why are they not here?” Erica Powers demanded.

“The same reason it has taken them so long to return from America, Mrs. Powers. Croup.”

“But they
are
in England?”

“Arrived at Portsmouth docks . . .” Falconer frowned and sought to calculate the time. But he could not make sense of the miles and hours and endless road. “What day is it?”

“Never mind that!” She moved quickly toward him. “Tell me where they are!”

“Harrow Hall, ma’am. In Wiltshire. They—”

“I must go to them.” She would have fled the room immediately except for the man once more putting a firm hand upon her shoulder.

“I sense Falconer here has not completed his report,” he said.

“But—”

“A moment, Erica. Please.” The man asked, “You have more?”

“Yes, sir. But I was instructed to be discreet.”

“My name is Samuel Aldridge. This is my wife, Lavinia.”

“I have heard of you, sir.” Falconer glanced at the cook and her assistant.

“They are family,” Samuel Aldridge stated flatly. “As is Daniel here.”

“Sir.” Falconer returned his attention to Erica Powers.

“Your husband and daughter were attacked at Georgetown harbor. Mr. Powers said I must warn you that there are spies about.”

“Spies and worse than spies,” Aldridge sternly agreed. “Is that why they went to Harrow?”

“Partly, sir. Gareth, that is, Mr. Powers, did not feel up to traveling into London first, though he sorely wanted to see you, Mrs. Powers. He also did not want to risk a single night in this home. Not for himself alone, but for the child and your own sakes as well. Even then he debated coming here first, but I urged him not to, and I am glad he heeded my word.”

Aldridge declared, “It is not like Gareth to send another man into danger. What are you not telling us?”

“In truth, sir, he has not been at all well. He slept almost
the entire first nine days we were at sea. He appeared better for a time. Then his fever returned, and the past few days have been a close-run thing.”

“I must fly!” Erica wheeled about. Samuel Aldridge did not hold her back. Lavinia Aldridge rushed to follow her upstairs.

“A fever, did you say?” Aldridge asked.

Falconer wished for all his faculties, for clearly these people were anxious for details. “I feared we would lose him, sir. He has been most unwell.”

Aldridge gripped the nearest chair back. “But he lives, you say.”

“His strength of will is remarkable to behold.” Falconer felt a wave of weariness sweep over him as he tried to maintain his wits during his report.

“Sit, man, sit. Mattie, bring the gentleman something to eat.”

“I’m on it, sir.” Swiftly the place before him on the table became crowded with plates and utensils. “Here you are, Mr. Falconer. Yesterday’s bread is all we have, I’m afraid. But it’s still fine, I warrant, and nothing spices up the food like a good appetite. A Wesleyan cheese, and butter I churned myself, and some honey. And coffee, now, and cream, and you just wait, I’ll fry you up—”

“Mattie,” Aldridge said mildly.

“Sorry, sir. I’m going on a bit, aren’t I? I’ll be quiet as the tomb now. Not a word more.”

Aldridge drew out the chair next to Falconer’s and seated himself. “You came into Portsmouth, you say.”

“Aye. Yesterday. Just before dawn. Mr. Powers and I talked this through at length. He tells me Harrow Hall is owned by a strong ally of yours. It being a walled estate and somewhat isolated, he and the child could hopefully rest safely and gain strength. I volunteered to come straight away for his wife. It was the only reason he agreed to go on to Harrow, if I would travel here without delay.”

“A wise course. How is Hannah?”

“I’m no doctor, sir.”

“Tell me what you know.”

“She is weak and has her spells. But she seems to be making more steady progress than her father.”

“She is young.”

“Aye, sir.”

“And an angel,” the cook added, busy over the fire.

“That she is, ma’am.”

“How did they get to Harrow Hall?”

“I hired a coach at Portsmouth. We bundled Gareth, that is, Mr. Powers . . .”

“Call him as you will. I take it you are not a manservant but a traveling companion.”

“I agreed to do what I could for father and child, sir. But I am on a mission of my own.”

“What is it? Is there something I can do to help?”

Falconer hesitated. The man’s strength and bearing resembled Gareth’s on his few good days.

“Speak up, man. Gareth and Erica Powers are as close to me as my own kin. We moved Erica into my son’s bedroom so as to help her during the uncertainty and fear. She was wasting away with worry over Gareth and the child.” Aldridge nodded his thanks when the cook set a plate and cup of coffee in front of him. “Gareth should never have made that journey to America.”

“Begging your pardon, sir,” Daniel put in, “but he had to go.”

“His place was here.”

“Mr. Wilberforce himself urged him to make the journey.”

To that Aldridge made no response save to sip noisily from his cup.

Falconer ventured, “I hear Mr. Wilberforce has been unwell.”

“He has spent years making ill health a profession.” Yet Aldridge’s tone held no criticism, only deep concern. “But this time I fear for the worst. Why, do you know him?”

“I was told to seek him out.”

“Well, that will have to wait, I’m afraid. The man is seeing no one. I am as close to him as any, and I’ve not laid eyes on him in almost two months.”

Falconer leaned back in his chair, defeated. “Then I fear my cause is lost.”

“Nonsense!” Aldridge’s tone boded no argument. “William Wilberforce may be a great and even singular man. But he is far from alone. He is mighty because he has allies!”

“I was told to trust only him,” Falconer replied.

“Then you were told wrong. You must trust God above all else and those whom you find thrust into your path by God’s good hand!”

Falconer studied the man. Though he had no hint of military bearing, still he held power as natural as any Falconer had ever seen. “I shall think on your words, sir.”

The two ladies burst back into the room, dressed in traveling clothes and each with a small bag. “We are ready!”

Falconer struggled back to his feet. “I am to deliver you personally, ma’am. Mr. Powers’s orders.”

“You are all done in,” Aldridge protested.

“Daniel can see me to Harrow,” Erica Powers said. “How are we to travel?”

“His lordship has sent his coach, but I must go with you.”

“But you’ve not eaten a morsel,” the cook protested.

“Pack it up, Mattie. I warrant this is a man not given to shirking his duties.” Samuel Aldridge offered Falconer his hand. “You will think upon what I have said.”

Falconer recognized the command for what it was. “I shall ponder long and hard, sir.”

“A man is only as strong as his allies. God’s right hand must sometimes be aided by his servants here on earth.” Aldridge followed them down the long hall to the front entrance. As he passed the foyer table, he leafed through the papers and letters awaiting him. He selected two pamphlets and slipped them into Falconer’s coat pocket. “It will do you good to
read these in your spare time, sir. Now go, and God speed to all of you.”