Stolen Lives (The Alice Chronicles #3)

30

W at’s arrest will have raced like a thatch fire through the household, Alice reckons. It will long since have spread to the dye houses and has doubtless been discussed throughout Hillbury by now. She, Robin and Jay, who know more than any about Wat’s past, are the last to know about his present. As she follows Ursula along the passage, a discussion is raging in the kitchen. The two stable boys have joined them, the air is thick with debate.

A sudden cease, and stools scraping on stone flags as they stand. Robin is the last, pushing himself painfully to his feet.

‘Robin, Jay,’ Ursula greets them. ‘I see you have heard.’

Jay indicates. ‘Margaret here, she’s just told us, mistress.’

‘That is well,’ Ursula says. ‘And now, Mistress Jerrard and I are going to Sir Thomas with the papers you have acquired, to do what we may. I need an escort of two men who can speed without mishap in the dark.’

‘I’ll get the coach out.’ One of the stable boys heads for the door.

‘We go on horseback,’ Ursula tells him. ‘Haste is of the essence.’

Horseback? Not coach? Oh, dear God.

‘Shall I find Esther, mistress,’ Margaret asks, ‘to fetch out your riding habit?’

‘No time,’ Ursula answers. ‘I go as I am. Saddle us fresh horses,’ she tells the stable boys.

Robin and Jay look at each other. They are ready, they tell her. But Ursula has other ideas. ‘Robin, you are too cramped by your long ride to go further.’

‘I can go as far as needed, mistress,’ Robin objects, but there is no gainsaying her.

‘Your time in the saddle has taken a heavy toll. I need you well, and resuming your duties at the dye house,’ Ursula tells him. ‘I will have a bed made up for you here in the menservants’ wing and the apothecary will be summoned in the morning. Despite Wat’s best efforts, it has not been the same while you were away. We are falling behind with our orders for reds.’

Wryly Robin regards his brother. ‘You missed our trouncing of Master Turner, Jay, it is fit you do this now without me.’ And Jay turns to Ursula. ‘I will come. I was one of your outriders to Wells before Christmas. Parts of that were in the dark.’

‘It’s true,’ Ursula agrees. ‘But you also have ridden long. Look at your condition.’

‘So has Mistress Jerrard,’ Jay says.

As Ursula hesitates, ‘It’s only fair,’ Alice urges. ‘And on the way I can tell you where we’ve been.’

‘I didn’t suppose you were sending carrier pigeons from Exeter to Bristol,’ Ursula says tartly.

It is nearly dark as they ride up to the door of Woodley Court. Five of them in the end, Ursula and Alice, with Jay and the two stable boys. As before, the wall torches are lit, and in their flare, sparse coins of rain slant, spreading groat-sized on the dusty ground. Far in the west, flicker of lightning, growl of thunder. Jay jumps down, and while he goes to rouse the household, Ursula turns to Alice, holding out her hand.

‘Give me those two sheets, please, Alice. I shall speak with Sir Thomas.’

‘What?’

‘I feel it is best I speak with Sir Thomas myself.’

‘I can do it, Ursula.’ All that work to get them.

‘I have no doubt you can.’ Ursula’s voice drops too low for the stable boys to hear. Quiet as it is, it is steel-edged. ‘However, I would remind you Sir Thomas will still be my neighbour tomorrow when all this is over. I need to maintain good relations.’

‘I’m only going to show them to him, Ursula!’ Alice whispers fiercely.

‘You are too heated!’ Ursula tells her. ‘In my parlour you said things that I accept because it was between the two of us. But if you blurt truths of like sort to Sir Thomas you risk destroying everything. I will not be dragged into that!’

‘How can you suggest I would set neighbour against neighbour?’

‘You say things without thought,’ Ursula tells her, ‘and once said they cannot be unsaid. This is a time for level heads, for Wat’s sake if nothing else. Let me handle this, Alice.’ Ursula’s eyes are fixed, the sharp planes of temple and cheek flickering with shadows from the torches at the door. She holds out a hand. ‘The papers, if you please?’

In silence Alice draws the sheets from her pocket and hands them over.

‘You have done a wondrous thing in obtaining these,’ Ursula says. ‘Do not think I am unappreciative, but now is the time for diplomacy and I shall undertake matters from here. Have I your assurance you will leave this to me?’

Alice swallows hard. ‘You have my assurance.’ Bitterness churning her insides, she turns her back, and sharply urges her mount across the court to join Jay by the door. The scrape of the bar being removed inside and a key grinding in the lock heralds a manservant opening the door. They dismount, one of the stable boys taking the horses’ heads, and the rest are ushered into the cold stone hall to await Sir Thomas.

He appears in seconds, the napkin over his shoulder suggesting he is in the middle of a late supper. ‘Mistress Cazanove!’ He sketches Ursula a bow which almost includes Alice.

‘I regret we disturb your meal, Sir Thomas,’ Ursula says, with a quick, answering curtsey. Alice adds hers, if only to show Ursula her resentment does not override her conduct.

‘No matter, I was out all day and returned late,’ he says. ‘What’s amiss? Some urgent matter brings you here at this time.’

‘Urgent it is, Sir Thomas,’ Ursula says. ‘News has reached me from Bristol regarding Wat Meredith. News that you need to know.’

Sir Thomas turns to his manservant hovering behind. ‘Take these fellows to the kitchen to wait while the ladies join us in the Great Parlour.’

‘My men may stay here to know this news,’ Ursula says holding up a staying hand to Jay and the stable boy. She passes over the two sheets. ‘Read those, Sir Thomas and I believe you will be most anxious to help. For ‘Goldwoode’ read ‘Cazanove’. He gave a false name.’

Sir Thomas takes the two confessions to a candle, scans each. ‘Where did these come from?’ he asks.

‘After your words at supper that evening, it was necessary to have urgent enquiries made, as you may imagine.’

‘You did not mention this to me when you came to see me yesterday.’

‘I could not. I had no notion such proofs existed.’

‘But they say terrible things about your husband. I can hardly believe it!’ Sir Thomas, Alice realises, clearly had no notion of this.

Ursula replies, ‘I am ashamed to know my husband could not only plan such a cruel outrage, but also deliberately claim that he saved Wat.’ Alice catches the head movement as the stable boy looks to Jay for explanation. Jay gazes steadily before him.

‘I shall send a man immediately to Sherborne.’ Sir Thomas says. He turns to the manservant. ‘Fetch William. He’s a fast rider; he will be the best.’

‘I prefer to go myself to Sherborne, Sir Thomas,’ Ursula says, ‘Wat is my man, and I am urgent to see him released. Not only that, but this miscarriage is a stain on my house that I must see erased. If you will accompany us, your presence will add weight to our entreaties.’

‘You cannot ride all the way to Sherborne in the dark,’ Sir Thomas objects. ‘What would the neighbourhood say if I allowed it and you were thrown?’

‘Sir Thomas, it is not for you either to allow or to deny,’ Ursula reminds him, her gentle smile removing the sting of her words. ‘In any event, we have ridden here with three good men who are all experienced riders and will accompany me.’

‘Forgive me,’ he says, indicating Ursula’s gown, ‘but you are not clad for appearing in public. Even Mistress Jerrard, correctly attired as she is, looks, may I say, a little wild.’

‘She is but just arrived back from her own journey.’

Sir Thomas hesitates only a few seconds before yielding. ‘Very well, give me time to change and get my horse saddled. And I must tell Lady Harcourt what’s afoot.’ He turns, and has nearly reached the door, when Alice calls,

‘Sir, Mistress Cazanove can surely apprise Lady Harcourt while you ready yourself?’

‘It will save time, Sir Thomas,’ Ursula adds, holding out her hand for the papers.

Watching Sir Thomas’ departing back, Alice says in a low voice, ‘I am glad at least that you and not Sir Thomas will carry those papers.’

Ursula places a hand on Alice’s shoulder. ‘I believe he can see the advantage of giving us the help we need.’

‘Indeed, the advantage of being Wat’s champion. That will puff up his public credit as high as it would have been as his accuser.’ Alice bites her tongue; another blurted truth.

Ursula’s hand falls. ‘We see these things differently.’ She leads the way to the Great Parlour. This time Alice does not answer back. It is sufficient to have secured Sir Thomas’ active involvement.

If it were daylight the journey might be compassed in a few hours. If there were a full moon in a clear night sky, only a little longer. Alice is familiar with the way to Sherborne from many market journeys. It is neither wide nor well-kept like the London to Exeter road, and Woodley and Hillbury are not the only villages along it with no made surface at all, only tracks carved from usage. Alice peers up at the cloud which has blanketed their journey all day. It feels thicker than ever tonight. No moon, and no stars to raise features in the dark. They will have to rely on the horses’ superior vision, their familiarity with the route, and will barely exceed a walk. But that means less chafing where she sits. Although she sped to her chamber while the horses were being saddled, and applied some chickweed lotion she always carries for Sam’s cuts and scrapes, she had no time to dress her blisters properly. She cheers herself with the consideration that it is only around ten miles; they will be able to cover that distance with ease and have Wat home at the mansion tonight.

Yet even when we get there, Alice worries, it will take time to rouse the guard, convince him of the urgency of our mission, more importantly find someone with sufficient authority to halt an execution. I cannot be the only one who is wondering, what does waiting for dawn matter to those who mean to send a man unwitnessed out of the world? Her thoughts veer to and fro, hope continually punctured by sprouting fears.

Lady Harcourt, having been apprised of their mission, is gone to offer assistance to her husband, and the rest leave the hall and mount up again. Fretting at the delay while Sir Thomas changes and more horses are saddled, Alice watches the others, each husbanding their thoughts in silence. To her, half the night passes while Sir Thomas idles in his dressing closet. She strains to banish thoughts of him striking poses before his mirror as he tries different outfits. The anxious wait is interrupted by Lady Harcourt emerging from the house and making straight for Ursula.

‘Sir Thomas will be ready directly. But now, do attend, dear Mistress Cazanove,’ she says. No “Ursula” here in front of the working men. ‘Let me persuade you to remain here. I would send Tom with you, but he is with friends in Winchester, and there is only Harold and I wouldn’t… you really should have at least two gentlemen to accompany you. Night riding is not for ladies of rank.’

‘I thank you, Lady Harcourt, but the men I bring are more than up to the task of escort.’

‘Do stay behind here. I have ordered a chamber to be made up for you.’ No mention of a chamber for Alice; a yeoman’s daughter must shift for herself.

‘You are too kind, Lady Harcourt,’ Ursula replies, ‘but Wat is of my household and he is in jeopardy.’

‘Sir Thomas will do all that is necessary for his release,’ Lady Harcourt argues. ‘Alice, my dear, do you persuade Mistress Cazanove.’

‘But I am in full agreement with her, Lady Harcourt,’ Alice says, itching to get on the road, ‘and we really should be—’

‘And you are not dressed for this,’ Lady Harcourt says, reverting to Ursula.

‘As I explained to Sir Thomas, in a case like this my attire hardly matters.’

‘Nor are you well wrapped. You will contract a night chill.’

Ursula chuckles. ‘I thank you for your concern, Lady Harcourt, but I hardly think so. Even in the dark it is still stifling.’

‘But you are not strong.’ Lady Harcourt’s objections continue, the hazards to health, offers of a cloak, a cooling draught, a change of cap, each declined in courteous but firm manner. Finally, lowering her voice so that Alice leans to hear, ‘I feel so bad about this, Ursula,’ Lady Harcourt says. ‘You see, it is all my fault. This journey would not have been necessary had I guarded my unruly chatter over Wat’s past.’

‘You mean it was not Sir Thomas who passed the information to the coroner?’ Alice asks.

‘It was a chance conversation I had with Coroner Dallier during his visit,’ Lady Harcourt explains. ‘Now I am in such bad odour with Sir Thomas, he is hardly speaking to me! And here you are making this perilous journey to Sherborne, Ursula. I wish you would not. Come, stay here and let the others go. Indeed,’ Lady Harcourt holds up her palm, ‘now it is raining. You must stay.’

‘Just a few drops, it will come to nothing.’

‘It could turn to a downpour in a moment,’ Lady Harcourt warns. ‘Listen to that thunder!’

‘Do not fret, Lady Harcourt. It is many leagues away.’ As though to underline this avowal, lightning flickers on the horizon, there and gone, and after long seconds, another roll of the distant storm.

Alice’s mount shakes its head and sidesteps as she fidgets at the rein. Just tell her to push Sir Thomas so that we can go! she frets. Please, Ursula! Hard on that thought, inconvenient chagrin nudges her with Ursula’s words. Sir Thomas will still be my neighbour tomorrow . The courtesies must be observed, even at the risk of delay.

Ursula continues to civilly decline Lady Harcourt’s attempts at persuasion until finally the stream of concerns dries up. Only to be replaced with advice for the journey, the care to be taken to avoid the rabbit scrapes which pepper the roads. Lady Harcourt has never seen so many holes in the roads as this year, and the householders are very dilatory in filling them in as they should. It only takes one false step and Ursula will surely be dashed to the ground. Another manservant should be sent, to run ahead and alert them to hazards.

But Sir Thomas, emerging hatted and booted, sword clanking, spurs ringing, baulks at this. ‘William is our best night rider,’ he reminds his wife. ‘Do you think me a looby not to have thought about the condition of the road, madam?’

‘Indeed, Lady Harcourt,’ Ursula assures her, ‘we have good men enough to do as you suggest if Sir Thomas feels the condition of the road demands it.’

Perhaps her husband’s tone has decided Lady Harcourt, for she offers no further counsels, and the party of seven at last turns for the road.