Hide in Time (19 page)

“No,” she said and shook
her head. “But thank you, Catherine, for asking.” Had she
lied? She hated lies.

“I regret it’s been
difficult for you to use your workroom. I shall have a lock put in
the door and only you shall have the key,” Adam said giving her
an enquiring look and standing now with two feet firmly planted.

Legs astride made him look dependable,
honourable and oh so bally attractive. He was trying to lift her low
spirits and perhaps this was something she could give way on a little
– he did, after all, have much to contend with. “Thank
you, Adam. Perhaps it would be something that Billy could do for
you.”

“No need – Johnson will
call the locksmith.”

Catherine came alongside Alexandra and
squeezed her hand. “We shall need a strong lock. Not one that
can be easily forced, Alexandra.” Of course. She looked at
Catherine – a true friend. How lucky she felt once again. “We
were wondering if you would be able to fashion a silver candlestick
in time for Christmas?”

“You must let me know what you
need, Alexandra, and I shall obtain your requirements.” Adam
glanced at her and she caught the gentleness of his look, cloaked by
his formality.

The guilt had got to her. She looked at
the ground and replied simply, “Thank you.”

~

Four days before Christmas, late in the
afternoon, Alexandra, dressed in a new, deep red day dress, presented
the silver candlestick she had made. She had withdrawn from most
other activities to prove the talent for fashioning silver. She had
found the test most satisfying. She chose a congenial time when
Catherine, Adam, Father Fox and Jack were relaxing around a log fire
in the sitting room. Though only five inches high, due to lack of
silver, it was exquisitely designed, with silver holly leaves
entwined around the stem and engraved with the family names on the
rim of the base.

While it was being passed around and
collecting complimentary appraisals, Alexandra glanced around her.
The cream curtains were pulled and had acquired a golden hue in the
firelight and a candelabrum on the mahogany side-table cast a gentle
radiance. She caught sight of the beribboned wicker basket of cones
sitting on a bed of pine needles. She’d presented it to Adam
before she knew of his darker side, nevertheless, in the warmth of
the fire, the scent evoked goodwill. Catherine patted the sofa and
shuffled along to make room for Alexandra.

Adam was the first to comment directly.
“Your letter of introduction said you were talented and you
have certainly demonstrated in so many ways that you are. I believe
you have created a unique treasure.” The words were gratifying
but he seemed so formal, distant even, and he was still standing up.

“Identifiably belonging to the
Leigh-Fox household,” said Father Fox glancing sideways at Jack
who was helping himself to the last of the tea. Adam ignored his
father’s cryptic rebuke of Jack’s purloining nature,
pulled the bell chord and, when Johnson entered, he handed him the
key to the caddy and asked for a fresh pot of tea.

“We have currant or caraway seed
cake, Alexandra. Do have some,” Catherine said passing the
plate to her. “You must be hungry. It will be lovely to have
your company once again; I’ve missed you.” Reminded of
the reason, she added, “It’s the most excellent
candlestick I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you, Catherine,”
Alexandra smiled at Catherine’s ambitious compliment. “I’ve
enjoyed making it.” She flashed a nascent smile to Adam. It was
Christmas, after all. Adam made himself comfortable next to Jack on
the sofa opposite Alexandra; his dark eyes took her in and approved;
of that much she was sure.

“I hope there will be a Frost
Fair on the Thames again. Do you think there will be, Adam?”
Catherine looked hopeful.

Adam laughed. “Dear Catherine,
let us hope the winter is not so severe this year, though I grant you
it was quite a spectacle.”

Jack stirred himself. “Lovely
smell of pine, don’t you think?”

Adam raised an eyebrow as he inclined
his head to Jack and said, “We have Alexandra to thank for
that.”

“Oh,” said Jack, taking on
the look of a mischievous imp by glancing between Adam and Alexandra,
“does she like the scent of pine too?” The fire crackled
in the hearth and rent the silence; Jack pulled himself up lazily,
stretched, and sauntered over to the door, pausing to add, “You’re
right, Father. She is like Laura.”

“Utterly deplorable,” said
Father Fox. “You will have to marry.”

Alexandra quickly turned to look over
her shoulder. Jack was still standing in the doorway. Was Father Fox
talking to Jack or to Adam? Once Jack had left, Catherine sought to
mend the severed conviviality. “Father’s always saying
that, aren’t you father?”

Father Fox had more than the loss of a
cordial atmosphere on his mind. “Marry for money. That is our
only hope. One of you must.”

Catherine looked at Adam, “Has it
reached that stage?”

Adam chuckled. “Well my dear
little sister, do you have anyone in mind?”

“Adam!” Father Fox sought
to curtail his fury by reaching for his pipe.

“I meant for Jack or myself,
Father. Catherine is always teasing me.”

Alexandra thought of the girl in the
village. She might be in need of a husband and father for her coming
child, though that would simply add to the financial troubles.
Unintentionally, she flashed Adam a disapproving look.

Catherine picked up a patchwork quilt
she had been mending and extended her efforts to repairing the
harmony. She turned to Alexandra with exaggerated excitement. “We’ve
been discussing the annual soirée after Christmas. The
invitations have all been sent and…”

“Sir Charles and Lady Carpenter
and their daughters are top of the list, aren’t they
Catherine?” Father Fox lit the pipe he had been filling.

Catherine groaned and put the quilt
back on the floor.

“Father, we are not desperate!”
Adam exclaimed.

No doubt a wife would put a stop to his
midnight excursions, thought Alexandra. A wife might also disapprove
of her presence. She stood up. Contingency planning must begin.

“Alexandra – we wanted to
ask if you would participate in the soirée?” Adam looked
hopeful.

“Should be a ball,” Father
Fox hissed and exhaled smoke in small, circular puffs. “She
should come out in society at the proper season and in London. It’s
most unseemly.”

“I shall explain our reasons,
Father, and allowances will be made. She is, it should be remembered,
in her own house,” Adam said. With more conviction he added,
“Everyone knows mother’s talents and influence are sorely
missed; we’ll introduce her in London at a suitable
opportunity.”

Jack piped up, “She’s of
marriageable age. Get her out in front of all the bucks you’ve
invited.” Catherine looked close to tears; rightly so, thought
Alexandra. Father Fox lit his pipe. A Christmas on eggshells,
something she’d heard about but never experienced. Well, not
that she could remember.

Catherine fought back. “I think
if Alexandra could be prevailed upon to write and read a short story
at the soirée, she will amuse us all enormously.”

“Though not too much, I hope,”
said Adam, “We don’t want to lose her.”

Mustn’t deplete your harem,
thought Alexandra.

“That is settled then,”
said Catherine. “You will write something and read to us, won’t
you Alexandra?”

“I shall be delighted,”
said Alexandra hastening towards the door, “If you will excuse
me, I shall start immediately.” She turned to see Adam smiling
encouragingly. I may be called upon to support myself sometime soon
was the thought uppermost in her mind – once she had forced out
the butterfly-inducing sight of Adam. “More like bats than
butterflies,” she said as she went up the stairs.

Hide in Time ~ Anna Faversham

On the evening of the soirée,
Alexandra had wanted to wear her burgundy velvet bolero but Catherine
had said it would be wise to wear her shawl so that her arms could be
admired. Alexandra was aghast; she wasn’t seeking admiration,
well, not of her arms. She was tempted to rebel and set her own
style; after all, she had so little to choose from it would give her
a chance to be inventive. It had then occurred to her that perhaps
Catherine was saving her from the faux pas of selecting any of
Laura’s belongings that had been passed to her. Anyway, how
could she deny Catherine the enjoyment of helping her dress and
styling her locks? So, with her hair brushed high and set in
fashionably irregular curls, and her pale blue wrap around her ivory,
soft silk dress, which shimmered as she moved, she descended the
imposing stairway and joined the many guests attending. Adam was
immediately at her side and complimented her more with his eyes than
his words. After brief introductions to several of the guests, he
waltzed her over to Raffles. No sooner had he done this than he was
set upon by the two Carpenter girls whom he steered towards the music
room. Raffles was then monopolised by a guest who engaged him in
serious, pious conversation.

Alexandra thought it better not to
attempt to contribute and her mind drifted to the past few days’
celebrations of Christmas. Frugality having been temporarily
abandoned, she and Catherine had enjoyed concocting menus and
decorating the table with holly, berries and ivy. One of the greatest
joys had been to see cook’s face when she saw what she was
commissioned to prepare. She’d displayed an element of panic –
why had they left it so late to tell her? It had been quickly
replaced by an enjoyably theatrical display of efficiency and
creativity. What a household! To have a cook called ‘Mrs Lamb’
completed the farcical but warmly amusing nature of life at
“Foxhills”. Alexandra enjoyed assisting and guiding
Catherine, but it would be quite wrong to usurp the daughter of the
household’s tentative hold on authority.

Now here was the culmination of all the
festivities – the Leigh-Fox Christmas Soirée to which
all the local dignitaries and families of consequence had been
invited. It was becoming a most interesting evening. Catherine
clearly impressed Sir Humphrey Frobisher’s eldest son, James,
for he had not left her side from the moment they were introduced. It
was understandable, thought Alexandra. She looked warm, friendly and
highly attractive in her peach-coloured dress. The dress was
ornamented with Chinese silk trimmings; Catherine had told her with
the merest hint of pride and more of a longing for approval. How
fragile her hold on expectations was becoming. The gown was set off
by a pearl and amber matching brooch and necklace. “At last, I
have the opportunity to wear mama’s jewels. Adam has brought
them out from the ‘safe’,” she’d whispered to
Alexandra.

An accomplished pianist was playing
while the guests took their seats in the music room, so
expressively that Alexandra’s curiosity was aroused. She was
unable to hide her amazement when she saw Jack at the piano
particularly when he began to sing. His voice was deep and pure, one
that would charm any woman or lull the most obstreperous baby to
sleep. A redeeming feature par excellence.

A most unwelcome thought, pushed
rapidly aside, flashed through Alexandra’s mind. Was he the
highwayman? Surely not? He didn’t play for long; having drunk
throughout the reception he declared himself fatigued, bowed long and
theatrically low to the appreciative audience, then found a far
corner of the adjoining morning room, where he slept noisily. Father
Fox surprised her. He assumed the role of the consummate host and
materialized between guests ensuring all were not only content but
also being introduced and seated near to ‘the right people’.
Every jewel-bedecked girl of marriageable age had been introduced to
Jack and Adam. Charlotte, the elder of Sir Charles’s daughters,
wearing a mustard-coloured dress with extensive yellow and scarlet
satin embellishments, might have been better advised, thought
Alexandra. She wasn’t sure of the choice of colours for setting
off her thick, red hair. Charlotte had seated herself next to Adam on
the front row, and fluttered her feathered fan at him rather more
than most would deem seemly. This gave focus to her exceptionally
expressive grey eyes – probably not an asset in her case.

Alexandra had been allocated a chair
next to Parson Raffles who occupied a central position at the front.
She took her place as Father Fox stood to welcome his guests but he
quickly deferred to Parson Raffles for his ‘Christmas Comment’.
The parson muttered as he stood, “Christmas Commentary.”
Alexandra barely controlled the smile that was sweeping over her face
– Father Fox was definitely smarter than people gave him credit
for. The parson, feeling obliged to shorten his usual exposition,
placed his hands on his ample stomach and began with his ‘closing
thoughts’. Very wise, thought Alexandra, they surely knew the
story by now anyway.

“Is it not so, my Lords, Ladies
and Gentlemen, that God comes to us in the way most suited to our
understanding? To the simple shepherds God announced the coming of
the Christ Child with hosts of angels cluttering up the skies and
singing for all they were worth – they could not be mistaken
for anything other than of God.”

Alexandra sat riveted. The parson was
using her words.

“To the learned men, the magi,
God gave signs in the sky to tantalize their enquiring minds.”

Yes, she thought, lock, stock and
barrel he has lifted my musings with Billy.

“The dependable Joseph, a man
steeped in the ways of faith, needed no signs and wonders; an
implanted dream confirmed and comforted.”

Well, at least that was his original
thought. How interesting. He must have been listening to them last
week in the stables when they’d been trying to make sense of
their lives.