The Workhouse Girl (30 page)

Time would have hung heavily while Sarah waited for news from Davey had it not been for exploring Blackwood House, and its overgrown grounds. When she saw the yew tree tunnel in daylight she could quite understand how the rumours concerning it had arisen. Neglected and left untrimmed the green boughs intertwined and twisted into strange shapes that had all but obliterated the passage between them. But when all was said and done they were just ancient trees that someone had planted many centuries ago in order to create a sheltered approach to the formal garden at the rear of the building. Perhaps the toxic berries that the trees produced had something to do with its macabre reputation, but whatever had started the rumour was patently absurd.

Sarah wandered on through the lost gardens of Blackwood House finding something new and interesting at every turn. Half-hidden pathways led to a tumbledown gazebo or a weed-choked lily pond, and at the bottom of what once must have been a croquet lawn she discovered a long-forgotten summerhouse. The windowpanes were cracked and the roof leaked, but the wooden table and chairs inside must once have been the setting for afternoon teas enjoyed by ladies and gentlemen of leisure.

She could only be glad that Parker had not chopped the furniture up for firewood, which seemed to be his main occupation. He roamed the grounds armed with an axe and hacked at fallen branches to fuel the kitchen range and set snares for rabbits, which ended up in the pot. Behind the red-brick walls of the kitchen garden Sarah discovered vegetable beds which he had done his best to tend, but they too were weed-strewn and the wildlife seemed to have benefited from their produce more than Parker himself.

A greenhouse occupied the length of one wall, and although it was dilapidated she found evidence of planting, which confirmed her suspicion that Elsie had been growing some of the rarer specimens for use in her herbal remedies. She could not wait to discuss her find with Grey, but when she returned to the house she found him in the drawing room covered from head to toe in soot.

‘What are you doing?' she demanded, trying not to laugh.

He blinked and shook his head. ‘I was trying to light the bloody fire, and there was a fall of soot.'

She struggled to keep a straight face. ‘I can see that.'

He shook his head and black specks flew in all directions. ‘We might be here for days and I can't spend another night sitting in the kitchen with Parker snoring his head off by the fire. I thought we'd be more comfortable in here.'

‘I hope we won't be here that long. It's too dangerous.'

He plucked a dust sheet off one of the chairs and wiped his face. ‘I want pleasant memories of the old house when I'm in exile.'

‘Don't put it like that. It sounds so final.'

‘I can't see myself being able to return in the near future. George wants me out of the way and he's not going to relent. He's not that type of man.'

‘Elsie would turn in her grave if she knew how her brother was treating you.'

‘Poor Elsie. I wish I could have done more for her. It was a miserable end for someone who spent a good part of her life healing others.'

‘Maybe she left the house to you, Grey. If Mr Moorcroft finds her will, you might be the rightful owner.'

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘That won't do me much good if I'm arrested the moment I put a foot on English soil.' He frowned. ‘But if that should be the case, Sarah, I want you to live here and look after the old place until it's safe for me to return. I doubt if it will happen that way, but I'd be happier knowing that you had a roof over your head.'

‘But I have no money, Grey. I'll have to find work somewhere and even if I could get a job as a schoolteacher I wouldn't be able to afford the upkeep of a house like this.'

‘There should be an income from farms and cottages on the estate, but I suppose George has been keeping that for himself. He certainly hasn't spent it on the property.' Grey stared helplessly at the heap of soot on the hearth, topped with an empty bird's nest and a pile of dead leaves. ‘What a mess.'

‘I'll clean it up,' Sarah said firmly. ‘Go and stick your head under the pump in the stable yard, and perhaps you can find a change of clothes in one of the bedchambers. The house seems to have been abandoned with everything just as it was when your grandparents passed away.'

‘You might take your own advice,' Grey said, grinning. ‘You look as though you've been dragged through a hedge backwards.'

She glanced ruefully at her mud-spattered skirt and the tear where it had snagged on a bramble. ‘There's a huge clothes press in the room where I slept last night, but wouldn't it be stealing if I took something for myself?'

‘You can't steal from dead people.' Grey made for the door. ‘My mother was about your size and I daresay she might have left some garments here, although they'll be a bit old-fashioned and probably moth-eaten.'

This made Sarah laugh. ‘Do you remember the clothes I wore when I was with Elsie? We had to take whatever cast-offs people swapped for her pills and potions. I'm not fussy.' She followed him out of the room and made her way upstairs, where she spent an hour sorting through the outdated but surprisingly wearable garments carelessly abandoned by people who did not know the meaning of poverty. In the end she selected a grey gown in a fine woollen material with a slightly yellowed lace collar and pagoda sleeves. No doubt Grey's fashion-conscious mother would have made the garment ever more up to the minute by adding separate undersleeves in lace or broderie anglaise, but she was unlikely to have done anything more arduous than ply her needle or entertain her friends with afternoon tea in the summerhouse.

That evening, over a supper of stew that Sarah had prepared using produce from the garden and Parker's contribution of a pair of rabbits, skinned and neatly butchered, she told Grey about her finds in the walled garden. ‘Elsie cultivated herbs in the greenhouse and she visited regularly to bring food to Parker. I wonder why she never mentioned it?'

‘I don't know. Perhaps it was her way of cocking a snook at the family who disowned her. We'll never know now.'

She pushed her plate away, resting her elbows on the table. ‘If it had been my house I wouldn't have let it go to rack and ruin. I'd look after it and bring it back to life. I can't bear to see the grounds strangled by weeds, and the house longing for someone to take it in hand. A lot of hard work and a bit of polish would work wonders.'

Grey stared at her, eyebrows raised. ‘I can't see it myself.'

‘I feel as though I've lived here all my life. Isn't that strange?' She turned with a start at the sound of tapping on the drawing room window. ‘There's someone out there, Grey.'

He leapt to his feet and crossed the floor to fling the casement open. ‘Who's there?'

‘It's me, Davey Hawkes. Let me in.'

‘Go to the front entrance.' Grey closed the window and made for the door. ‘I'll let him in, Sarah. You stay here in the warm.'

She rose from the table and went to stand by the fireplace where a log fire burned brightly thanks to Grey's efforts that morning. She waited anxiously, hoping that Davey might have good news.

He followed Grey into the room and came to a halt, taking in his surroundings. ‘Why do you need me when you own all this? I'd have thought a man of property could buy his way out of trouble.'

‘It's not mine,' Grey said, taking the leather pouch from his pocket and laying it on the table. ‘This is all the money I've got in the world. I don't know if it's enough to buy me a safe passage.'

‘That depends.' Davey picked up the pouch and weighed it in his hand.

‘Grey is a good friend,' Sarah said hastily. ‘You'd do it for next to nothing, wouldn't you, Davey?'

He shook his head. ‘My boat isn't sturdy enough for a Channel crossing, but I've got contacts. Free traders who'll do anything for the right amount of cash.'

‘Do you mean smugglers?' She stared at him in horror. ‘Surely you aren't mixed up with people like that?'

‘How d'you think we survive when the fish don't run or the weather is too bad to put out to sea? We have to have an insurance against hard times, and much of it is stored in the crypt beneath the church.'

‘Do you mean that the vicar knows what's going on?'

He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Aye, and the squire and the schoolmaster too. Don't tell me you didn't know what went on here.'

‘Are you saying that my grandparents were aware of this free trading business?' Grey demanded, giving him a searching look. ‘Have you any proof of that?'

‘The secret passage from your cellars to the church wasn't put there for the glory of God.'

‘Well I'm damned,' Grey said, chuckling. ‘And the family accused me of being the black sheep. I wonder if my uncle George is party to the illicit trade.'

Sarah looked from one to the other in amazement. ‘I don't know whether to laugh or cry. You're talking about respectable people acting like criminals, risking imprisonment or even the death penalty.'

Davey turned to her grinning. ‘If all the folks who'd had dealing with the free traders were found out there wouldn't be enough jails to hold them.'

‘I'm sure Elsie didn't take part in such goings on,' Sarah said emphatically. ‘She wouldn't.'

‘I don't know,' Grey said, frowning. ‘All I can say is that the deals I did for her were all above board.'

‘We're getting away from the point.' Davey stowed the purse in his pocket. ‘I didn't come here tonight to talk about smuggling.'

‘Then say what you've got to say and be done with it,' Grey said impatiently.

Sarah stared at him in dismay. ‘Don't talk to Davey like that. He's trying to help.'

‘I'm sorry, Hawkes. It's just that the longer I'm here the more dangerous it becomes, especially for Sarah.'

Davey's jaw hardened. ‘You should have thought of that before you dragged her into this.'

‘Stop it, the pair of you.' Sarah glared at each of them in turn. ‘You're behaving like schoolboys.'

‘I came to tell you that the weather's taken a turn for the worse, and it'll be a few days before you can get away.'

‘What will we do in the meantime?' Sarah turned to Grey with an anxious frown. ‘What if the police come here looking for you?'

‘We'll have to deal with that if and when it happens.'

Davey made a move towards the door. ‘It might be a good idea to find the secret passage. The coppers aren't going to look for you in the church.'

Sarah beamed at him. ‘That's the best idea yet. Let's go right away.'

IN THE WAVERING
lantern light, the cellars of Blackwood House were filled with eerie echoes and dark corners. The cloying smell of damp lingered in the stale air and it was several degrees cooler here than in the rest of the house. Sarah shivered and wrapped her shawl around her shoulders, keeping close to Davey as they followed Grey. He stopped in the middle of the second chamber, holding the lamp high above his head so that it cast its beam around the dank cavern. ‘I can't see anything that resembles a doorway,' he said, peering into the gloom. ‘Can you?'

Davey knelt down to examine an uneven flagstone. ‘They must have dug the tunnel but it's well hidden.'

‘Maybe they filled it in,' Sarah suggested. ‘Perhaps your grandparents had a change of heart, Grey.'

‘What's going on here?'

They spun round to see Parker standing behind them.

‘We've been told there's a secret passage leading to the church,' Grey said calmly. ‘Do you know anything about it?'

A sly expression crossed Parker's wizened features and he dropped his gaze. ‘I don't know nothing.'

‘And I don't believe you.' Grey faced him squarely. ‘Come on, man. We're all on the same side.'

Parker shot him a sideways glance. ‘How do I know you ain't working for the excise men, Master Toby? You ain't been what I'd call a regular visitor to Blackwood House.'

‘That's true, but I'll be straight with you, old chap. I've suffered hard times since my parents died and I've been on the wrong side of the law many a time, but now the police are after me for a crime I didn't commit.'

‘I'm glad to hear that you've turned over a new leaf, Master Toby. You and Miss Elsie were both wild 'uns when you was young, but there was no real badness in either of you.'

‘Parker, that's neither here nor there. Do you know where the entrance of the passage is? It's a simple enough question.'

‘Of course I do, Master Toby. I been along it enough times in days gone by.' Parker hobbled over to a rack of wine bins on the far wall. Sarah could not see quite how he accomplished it but the wooden shelves swung gently away to reveal a small door. Parker took a bunch of keys from his pocket and put one in the lock. It turned soundlessly and the door opened.

‘Well, I'm damned. It was there all the time and we didn't spot it.' Grey strode across the floor and ducked through the narrow opening. Sarah made to follow him but Davey held her back.

‘Perhaps you'd best wait here with Parker.'

She shook free from his restraining hand. ‘You go ahead, but I'm right behind you. I'm not missing this for anything.'

He grinned, touching her cheek with the tips of his fingers. ‘You're a plucky girl, Sarah.'

She gave him a push towards the doorway. ‘So you've forgiven me for not dying?'

‘Almost, but not quite. Don't ever do that to me again.' He took her by the hand and led her into the narrow passageway.

It seemed to go on for miles. The air was dank and water seeped through the brick walls, dripping onto the packed earth floor and turning it into mud. The light from Grey's lantern dipped and bobbed in the distance and Sarah had to quicken her pace to keep up with Davey's long strides. Her heart was racing and every nerve ending tingled with suppressed excitement. She was finding it increasingly hard to breathe as she struggled against the fear of being in such a confined space, but eventually they reached the far end and Grey opened the heavy oak door which led into the crypt. She gulped deep breaths of air that was somewhat fresher beneath the vaulted ceiling but tainted with the odour of must and disuse.