Stolen Lives (The Alice Chronicles #3)

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T he return journey is even more exhausting than the outward. Their sojourn in the city has refreshed none of them. Storm clouds rear up from the horizon tracking them along their way, the haze thickens, greying the sky, and the air is stuffier than ever. Alice’s sickness returns with force and on the second day of their journey they spend the night at Somerton, well north of Yeovil.

Robin too is suffering; for him it is the effects of unaccustomed hours in the saddle. She has watched him keep going on naught but single-minded determination. His face set in driven lines, he has spoken little. Alice’s unease at delaying them all is slightly mitigated by the reflection that the halt in Somerton is giving Robin a small respite.

The following morning, Alice’s headache thumps perpetually and it is not just the nausea which defeats her every time she tries to rise from her bed. It is mid-morning before her exhausted body obeys her, and they set off once more. It is near twenty five miles, more than they would normally ask of their horses in a day. By changing at intervals they keep going with few stops for refreshment, yet however she shifts position, blisters are telling on her. Every movement is raw, rubbing torture.

The cloud is low and the heat wraps close in the stagnant evening as they ride into the kitchen court at the mansion on the third day after leaving Bristol. Dusty and hot as they all are, Jay jumps quickly from his mount and goes straight to his brother’s aid. Robin sags on cramped legs as he reaches the ground and grasps the stirrup for support.

Alice slides stiffly to the ground and goes to Robin’s other side. ‘Sorry mistress,’ he says, wincing. ‘I’m finished.’

‘Jay,’ Alice says, ‘I suggest we get the kitchen to provide some refreshment, and Robin must rest awhile. I shall let Mistress Cazanove know we are back,’ she adds. ‘I need to explain where we have been.’

He nods. ‘I’ll find Wat and let him know the good news,’ and he supports Robin towards the kitchen.

Two of the stable boys have come out to the court. ‘Is Oz back from Bristol yet?’ she asks them.

‘Haven’t seen him, mistress,’ one says.

Strange, she thinks, we left here after Oz, yet we have returned before. He was only going to fetch the Will. Aloud she goes on, ‘When Jay and Robin have eaten, they will need mounts to take them back to the dye houses, please.’ Robin can ride that short distance, she thinks, he certainly won’t be able to walk it. The stable boy looks surprised, but as she hoped, the appeal coming from a guest, he does not question it. ‘Surely, mistress.’

She follows the other two indoors where the kitchen maid is salting and scrubbing the table. Alice hails her. ‘Margaret, can you find some food and ale for Jay and Robin? Where is Mistress Cazanove?’

‘She’ll likely be in her little parlour, mistress,’ the girl says. ‘But I wouldn’t—’

‘And Sam? Has he been well while I was away?’

‘He’s had a high time,’ Margaret tells her. ‘I took him to visit Daniel; that was his red letter day.’

‘Excellent!, Now, I must go and find the mistress.’

‘Have you heard—?’

‘Not now, please, Margaret.’ Her head thumps; one more effort. She makes her way along the passages at the back of the house and knocks at Ursula’s private parlour.

The sun has just set, the thin strip of sky blazing its parting gold under sagging black clouds. Ursula is sitting at her work table by the window, shadowed against the evening sky, but there is no embroidery in her hands. Alice has the impression she has been gazing out, motionless, for some time. It is unlike Ursula to be without a book or some needlework. She starts and turns. ‘Oh, Alice, you’re back.’ Her face has that gaunt look Alice knows.

‘Ursula? What is it?’

‘They’ve taken Wat.’ The tears stand in her eyes.

‘Who has?’

‘The men came for him. The coroner named him.’

‘He can’t have!’ Alice’s thoughts swirl. A week, Sir Thomas said. It is a week to the day since they made their agreement.

‘I should have done something before. I should never have let it get to this. This is my fault, Alice.’

‘When did they take him?’

‘Yesterday. The coroner declared Wat guilty of Master Goldwoode’s murder.’

‘That’s nonsense! What possible motive could he have?’

‘Apparently Sir Thomas sent for the court rolls from Bristol. That confirmed the link between Wat and Luella’s father and thus to Goldwoode.’

‘That’s not a motive! Anyway, Wat left the inn earlier that evening, he gave me your message and was coming back here.’

‘No one can confirm that.’

‘This is folly!’ Alice cries. ‘I can no more prove where I was but they haven’t accused me! Do they have sawdust for brains?’

‘I went straight to Sir Thomas. He says there is nothing he can do.’

‘Then why did he let this happen?’

‘He did not want this arrest, Alice. He was genuinely vexed.’

Alice sighs. He is vexed because with Wat removed, Sir Thomas has lost the lever he relied on to get Ursula to marry Tom. So who told Coroner Dallier about Wat’s past? ‘Has Sir Thomas tried to do anything?’

‘He cannot overturn a coroner’s verdict,’ Ursula reminds her.

‘What of this business rival they were looking for?’

‘They could not find him.’

‘So the coroner took the easy option and accused Wat.’

‘Wat is a reprieved felon, it is natural for them to think he offended again.’

‘No it’s not!’ Alice declares. ‘I tell you, Ursula, Wat never committed that thievery he was accused of last year.’

‘It’s very loyal of you, Alice, but Sir Thomas, as you know, heard it from Rupert himself, and the court rolls confirm it. Rupert saved Wat from the rope.’

‘He did nothing of the sort!’ Alice pulls at the strings of her pocket as she speaks, draws it up from under skirt. ‘Your husband designed this whole conspiracy to snare Wat.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘You know the man he was, Ursula. Well, this was just more of his foulness. Here…’ She drags out the sheet signed by Norrys’s manservant and thrusts it at her friend. ‘Read that!’

Holding the sheet to the light, Ursula scans. ‘Who is the person who says this?’

‘He’s manservant to a merchant in Bristol Wat went to see.’

‘But it says Goldwoode, not Cazanove.’

‘Your husband gave that name. I suppose he planned that Goldwoode would take the blame if anything went wrong. He paid this worm of a servant to tell Wat when he called, that his master was from home, and that Wat should wait at a certain inn. And now, read this,’ she says, unfolding the Information, jabbing a finger at it. ‘This is the man who was lying in wait at the inn.’ Again, Ursula reads. ‘Alice, perhaps it was Master Goldwoode all the time.’

‘They each described your husband, his bullying way, his large paunch. Goldwoode wasn’t stout.’

‘But why would Rupert go to such lengths?’

Irritation or sheer fatigue sharpens Alice’s response. ‘I can only find out so much in a week, Ursula! Who can say why he did it? It seems to me your husband had more hidden motives than a rat has fleas!’

‘If this is true, Wat is innocent.’ Ursula frowns in puzzlement. ‘Why did he not say?’

‘Oh Ursula!’ Alice loses her temper. ‘Why didn’t you talk to him when I asked you?’

Ursula gives a choking sound and puts her hands to her head. ‘They’re going to hang him! Tomorrow!’

‘Tomorrow? Where is he held?’

‘At Sherborne.’

Ten miles, half a day’s ride. Not tonight. Please . ‘I’ll go there in the morning. I’ll leave at first light.’ Alice indicates the two papers Ursula holds. ‘I’ll take those and they cannot hang him. This one here, it’s a formal Information, signed by a Justice. They are duty bound to attend it.’ Ursula’s look of horror halts Alice. ‘What?’

‘He hangs at dawn.’

‘Dawn? They don’t hang people at dawn. Who said dawn?’

‘Sir Thomas told me. It will be private, at daybreak. He wants to be compassionate towards Wat, no crowds to gather, and Sir Thomas is also trying to save us the shame of having had a felon amongst us.’

‘Shame, my –!’ She grasps Ursula by the shoulders ‘Shame be damned!’ Almost, she shakes her. ‘Sir Thomas always has his own designs! Maybe he did not want this arrest but he is quick to see the advantage, isn’t he? This is no face-saver, it’s a money-saver! Sir Thomas can boast to his fellow justices how quickly he cleared up the murder of Goldwoode – away with Wat the felon and no questions asked, no one to object – and that’s the best that can be said of this obscene plot!’ She snatches the papers from Ursula and slaps them back in their folds. ‘I’m going to Woodley now. Sir Thomas can get out of his comfortable bed and shift himself to save an innocent man!’

‘It will be dark soon, Alice. You cannot journey by night.’

‘As Robin says, Watch me! Lend me your coach and one of your maidservants as a companion, will you?’

‘Please, Alice,’ Ursula begs. ‘It’s not safe for you to go travelling around the country at night.’

‘It’s a deal less safe for Wat, unless someone stops this madness! You may help or hinder as you please, Ursula, but I’m going, even if I have to walk there!’

‘I’ve never known you like this.’ Ursula stares at her.

‘I’ve never been faced with an innocent man about to be murdered in the name of the so-called law!’ Alice stuffs the two sheets in her pocket, thrusts it back under her skirt. Tears threaten. Good God, that’s all I need. With a hand to her face, she wails, ‘Oh, hell and damnation!’ She turns to go.

Ursula rises. ‘Then I’m coming with you.’