by Sandra Heath
Perry sighed, and Bysshe looked thoughtful.
Marigold felt so helpless. “There has to be a way.”
Bysshe nodded. “And it must be achieved before dawn on midsummer day. Everything will happen then. We have eight days.” He glanced at Rowan, and then quickly away again.
No one said anything for a few moments, then Perry took a huge bite of toast. “Bysshe and I will think of something,” he said with his mouth full.
Marigold frowned at him. “Aren’t manners required at Eton?”
“Sorry, Mama,” he said, swallowing hastily and then exchanging a meaningful glance with Bysshe.
* * *
Late that night, when all was quiet the two boys again slipped stealthily from their rooms, and down through the house. They had given up waiting for Rowan and Marigold to retire for the night, and had decided to commence a very risky venture anyway. Bysshe carried a rather battered old canvas shoulder bag with something heavy inside, and Perry a bundle of white robes made from their bedsheets. Keeping their eyes peeled for Beech, they paused at the bottom of the main staircase, then tiptoed to the great parlor door, which stood ajar, in order to peep inside.
Marigold was seated on a sofa in the silver-spangled silk gown she’d worn for dinner. Her red-gold hair was pinned in a knot, and her earrings sparkled in the candlelight as she looked up at Rowan, who leaned over her from behind. He wore a navy blue velvet coat, gray waistcoat, and cream breeches, and was smiling tenderly into her eyes. The boys drew back to a discreet distance. “Gosh, they’re very, er, dewy,” Bysshe whispered.
“Immensely,” Perry agreed.
“Do you think we’ll ever be that soppy?”
“About each other?” asked Perry with a wicked grin.
“No, stupid, about a woman!”
“Of course not, we’re too sensible,” Perry replied. “Come on, let’s get on with this.”
They hurried to the main door, and then out into the moonlit night. Their steps rustled on the gravel as they ran down through the gardens. They glanced back constantly to see if anyone had noticed them, but there was no one at any of the windows. At last they reached the bridge and then paused.
“I think we’ve escaped unnoticed,” Bysshe breathed, putting down his heavy bag and then gazing intently back along the path.
“I think so too,” answered Perry, thrusting one of the makeshift druid robes into his friend’s hands.
They both dressed hastily, then pulled their cowls over their heads. Bysshe gave a nervous smile. “As we were going downstairs, I felt as if old Beech would jump out from the shadows at any moment.”
“Well, he didn’t. Come on, it’s rather open between here and the boathouse, so we’ll have to make a dash for it.”
Perry turned to run again, but Bysshe suddenly caught his arm. “No! W-wait a moment...”
“What’s up?”
“Oh, it’s stupid really, but I’m a bit afraid of water at night. I used to frighten my sisters by telling them a giant tortoise lived in our lake.”
“A giant what?”
“Tortoise.”
“Is that the most fearsome thing you could think of?” Perry scoffed.
Bysshe blushed in the darkness. “I know it sounds silly, but, yes, it was.”
“Wouldn’t a ten-legged lake monster with a taste for tender little girls be better? Or a hundred-foot-long water snake that comes up the drainpipe to swallow them whole while they’re asleep?”
Bysshe looked at him in horror. “Oh, don’t...”
Perry grinned, and put a fond arm around his friend’s thin shoulders. “I say, you really are frightened of water, aren’t you?”
“I—I believe that one day I will drown.”
“Stuff and nonsense. Look, are you coming with me or not? We went to a lot of trouble making these robes, and pumping the servants about Romans, but if you’re scared to come, I’ll go alone.”
“I—I’ll come.”
“Good. So let’s get on with it.”
They ran as fast as they could down the gentle slope toward the lake, and at last reached the shelter of the weeping willows and the boathouse. Out of breath, they leaned thankfully against the boathouse. Perry grinned. “We must be quite mad!”
“Totally.”
“But if we manage to steal the anguinum from Uncle Falk ...”
“We’ll be heroes indeed. Come on, let’s get the skiff.”
They ran to the jetty, and hurriedly undid the mooring rope. Within a minute or so they had begun to pole themselves away from the shore, but it wasn’t long before they realized how very visible they were in the moonlight, so they maneuvered the skiff into the reeds at the water’s edge. It was much more difficult to make progress now, but at least they weren’t so easy to see, either from Avenbury Park, or from Romans when they reached that end of the lake.
Back at the house, Beech hurried unannounced into the great parlor. “Forgive the intrusion, my lord, but the young gentlemen have gone out again!” he said breathlessly.
“Out? Where?” Rowan came around the sofa, and Marigold sat forward in concern.
“One of the maids was just drawing curtains at an upper window when she saw them on the garden bridge, although she wasn’t sure it was them at first.”
“Wasn’t sure? Why on earth not?” Marigold was uneasy.
The butler was reluctant to respond, because he knew she would be upset by the answer. “Well, my lady, they were wearing white robes.”
She stared at him in dismay.
“Where are they now?” Rowan demanded.
“They’ve taken the skiff onto the lake, sir.”
“Oh, no ...” Marigold pressed her fingers to her mouth.
Beech shuffled awkwardly. “One of the footmen says that Master Bysshe questioned him most particularly about Romans earlier this evening. I fear that is where they are going. The maid said they started out on open water, but then suddenly made for the reeds near the shore. She thinks they realized how the moonlight was shining on them.”
Marigold rose agitatedly. “They’ve gone to get the anguinum.”
Rowan sighed. “Oh, wouldn’t they, just,” he murmured.
“We must stop them, Rowan!”
He glanced at Beech. “Have my horse saddled. I’ll bring them back.”
“My lord.” The butler turned to hurry away again, but Marigold called him back.
“Wait a moment, Beech.”
“My lady?”
Rowan turned to her. “My darling, they have to be stopped and brought back.”
“I know, it’s just—”
“Each minute counts, Marigold. The reeds will hamper them, and the skiff can’t be poled very swiftly anyway, so if I go by road, I should reach the jetty at Romans before they do.”
“Won’t you be seen?” she asked anxiously, remembering how the open lawns in front of Romans afforded a clear view down to the eastern shore of the lake.
“That’s a chance I’ll have to take. Which is more important? The risk of the iniquitous ornithological den catching the boys or spotting me?”
She looked swiftly at the butler. “Two horses, Beech.”
Rowan shook his head. “No, Marigold.”
“I won’t stay behind.”
“Marigold—”
“You’ll have to lock me up,” she warned.
“Don’t tempt me,” he replied, but nodded resignedly at the butler. “Two horses,” he said.
“My lord.” Beech hurried out.
Rowan glanced down at his evening clothes. “These won’t do for riding, nor will your gown. We must change.”
“But my riding habit is being attended to after I got it in a mess the other day.”
His glance moved over her jewelry and silver gown. “Well, diamonds and spangles might be a little eye-catching in moonlight, so either you stay here, or you must change. Don’t you have a gown that isn’t too costly?”
“I have a green lawn chemise gown that was in
my traveling portmanteau when we met.”
“It will have to do. Come.” He held out his hand, and together they hurried from the room.
Chapter Twenty-seven
The moon shone brightly upon the water, and the reeds rustled a little in the soft night breeze as Perry and Bysshe struggled to pole the unwieldy skiff around the lake’s edge. They had a fright when two very large, very bad-tempered swans flapped their long wings and hissed threateningly about three feet from the craft. The swans were already much put out with humans because earlier that day Alauda had shooed them forcefully from their sunny spot on the Romans jetty; the fact that the boys had disturbed them again now made them more grumpy than ever.
The boys were relieved when they had put some distance between themselves and the disagreeable birds, whose hissing abuse could still be heard for some time after the skiff had been poled past. After that, the only birds the boys expected to hear were the waterfowl stirring uneasily as the skiff went by, but then from the far side of the lake there came an only too-familiar sound. Perry stopped poling, and glanced across. “Listen, Bysshe.”
Somewhat out of breath, Bysshe leaned on his pole. “Listen to what?”
“It’s Sir Francis.”
Both boys listened. Sure enough, the mallard’s peculiarly distinctive cries echoed across the moonlit water, punctuated now and then by the calls of other water birds. Bysshe gave a low laugh. “It almost sounds as if he’s making a speech. I went to the House of Commons once, and saw Mr. Pitt addressing Parliament. If those other birds aren’t saying ‘Hear! Hear!’ I’ll eat this pole!”
Perry grinned. “Sir Francis may be many things, but Mr. Pitt he certainly is not! Come on, let’s get moving.” He put pressure on the pole to push the skiff forward again.
Bysshe glanced up at the sky as he too began to pole once more. “I say, the moon’s about to go behind a large cloud, so we’ll be able to go out in the open again.”
“Thank goodness. If we have to stay in these wretched reeds, it will be dawn before we get there,” grumbled Perry.
As soon as the moon slid from sight, the boys maneuvered the skiff back onto clear water. Able to again set the direct course they’d intended from the outset, they poled as heartily as they could for Romans, which was now just visible around the foot of the escarpment.
There were lights at many upper windows, but no one to be seen as the skiff was made fast at the jetty. Bysshe gathered the heavy shoulder bag, and then he and Perry ran to the shelter of the nearest tree. There were to be another ten vital minutes before Rowan and Marigold arrived.
Moving from tree to tree, the boys managed to get within fifty feet of the front of the house. At the last tree, Bysshe thankfully put the shoulder bag down, and together they peered around the trunk. The downstairs windows were all in darkness, and by the number of illuminated windows on the balconied upper floor, Falk and his guests had only just retired for the night.
Luck was with the boys, for Falk appeared at the window of his room, which was about midway along the house. He loosened his white silk neckcloth, and removed his black evening coat, then he flung open the French windows, and stepped out onto the balcony. He placed his hands on the rail, and to the boys’ dismay seemed to be looking directly down at their hiding place, but then he looked up at the sky for a moment, before turning and going back inside. They saw him moving around the room, and knew he hadn’t noticed anything amiss.
Perry glanced at Bysshe. “Phew, that was nasty.”
Bysshe nodded. “I thought we’d been spotted.”
“So did I.”
“I say, was your father really like his brother?”
“To look at, yes, but apart from that I hardly knew him. What I knew I didn’t like. He was always under Uncle Falk’s thumb, that’s for sure, and Mama says he changed a lot from the man she married.”
Bysshe pulled a face. “I don’t like my papa either.” He peered up at the balcony again. “Well, I guess that’s the room we have to reach, but I do wish it was at the back of the house. Now we’ll have run around the back, get up the outer staircase, and go all around the balcony. Lord knows how many other rooms we’ll have to pass. What if some of them come out and catch us?”
“Don’t even think that! Look, it can’t be helped. We know from the footman that the steps at the back are the only ones, so once we’ve got it all going, we’ll have to do some sprinting. And then pray.” Perry grinned, but then became a little anxious. “Are you absolutely sure this will work?”
“Of course!” Bysshe replied indignantly.
Perry glanced around the tree again, this time toward the old hunting tower, where a lantern was fixed to a corner of the ancient stonework. Beyond, appearing as mere shadows, were the stables and coachhouse. Romans was a small residence for so many guests, so many of the carriages were drawn up in the open. The horses were in a paddock beyond, and there was no sign of any grooms, or even stable boys.
Bysshe drew a long breath. “Well, let’s get to it then, before we lose our nerve.” Hauling the heavy bag onto his shoulder again, he bent low to race across the sloping lawns toward the hunting tower. Perry was at his heels, and when they reached it, they pressed back into the arched ivy-draped doorway. They leaned breathlessly against the iron-studded door, which hadn’t been opened in years. The light from the corner lantern shone on the carriages’ gleaming paintwork and highly polished brass. The horses in the paddock could be heard now, stamping occasionally, or snorting.
Bysshe took the bag from around his shoulder, and crouched down to open it. He took out the only thing it contained, a very large jar of gray powder, and grinned at Perry. “Seventy-five per cent saltpeter, fifteen per cent charcoal, and ten per cent sulfur, equals the very best gunpowder.”
“For heaven’s sake be careful with it!”
“It won’t explode without a flame.”
Perry was still anxious. “Bysshe, are you really certain you know what you’re doing? I mean, it’s one thing to blow up an old tree stump at school, quite another to do the same to someone’s carriage!”
“The big bang is just the same,” Bysshe replied with relish. “Now then, which carriage shall we choose?”
“The blue one with scarlet wheels. It’s Aunt Alauda’s,” Perry replied without hesitation, for he knew how proud that unpleasant lady was of her elegant conveyance.
“Consider it done,” breathed Bysshe, then looked at the old bag. “This is expendable, I fancy. It’s so battered I kept dreading the jar would fall through it. I’ll blow it up as well.”
Putting the empty bag over his shoulder again, he moved toward the vehicle in question, carefully pouring the powder in a steady line as he went. He arranged the bag on its side where the trail directly led beneath Alauda’s carriage, and then laid the jar on its side inside it. When he was satisfied nothing could go wrong, he hurried back to Perry. Both boys pressed back in the doorway again, and Bysshe gave a nervous laugh. “I say, I never imagined I’d do something like this. It’s quite an adventure, eh?”
Perry glanced slyly at him. “It beats a moldy old giant tortoise!”
“If you ever mention that at school, I’ll never speak to you again,” Bysshe threatened, wishing he’d never confessed.
“I won’t tell.”
“You’d better not.” Bysshe took a bottle of lucifers from his pocket, extracted one, then held it up until it ignited. “Right, get ready to run.” He touched the lucifer to the trail of powder, and as a flame began to race along the ground, the boys took to their heels around the tower to the back of the house.
There they crouched beneath the balcony staircase, and put their fingers in their ears. Their hearts pounded, and the moments seemed to hang, then suddenly there was an explosion that shattered the night. Flames leapt into the darkness, and there was uproar. Grooms, coachmen, and stable boys poured from their cramped quarters behind the coachhouse, and doors were flung open on the balcony.
Men shouted, e
specially Falk, and footsteps rang down the steps. Then Alauda’s screams were added to the confusion. Her light steps hastened overhead, and the boys caught the fragrance of her perfume as she hurried down the steps to see what could have befallen her precious carriage. She was in her nightgown, and her glossy dark hair was in curling papers that bounced up and down as she disappeared around the corner.
As soon as she’d gone, Perry and Bysshe hurried up to the balcony, around the end of the house furthest from the mayhem. The fire had now spread to the carriages on either side of Alauda’s, and there was chaos as men tried to pull the remaining vehicles to safety. Bysshe had been so lavish with his gunpowder some of the flames were higher than the house, and the hillside behind, beneath the earthworks, was illuminated by the leaping orange light. No one glanced up and saw the two white-clad figures creeping into Falk’s room.
Rowan and Marigold had just arrived at the jetty and found the deserted skiff, when the explosion rent the night. Their horses shied, and Rowan reached across to steady Marigold’s, then glanced up at the house. “Damn Bysshe and his gunpowder,” he breathed.
“Is that what they’ve done? Oh, what if they’re caught?”
Rowan suddenly saw the boys edging along the balcony. “There they are! They’re audacious, I’ll say that for them.”
Marigold’s heart sank. “They’re not audacious, just very foolish and reckless! Oh, Rowan, they can’t possibly hope to get away with this!”
They watched the boys enter Falk’s room, and as the curtains were drawn, Rowan looked at Marigold. “You stay here, I’ll go see if I can get them out before anyone realizes they’re there.”
“I’m staying with you,” she replied firmly.
“Marigold, I would feel far happier in my mind if I knew that you at least were safe.”
“Please, Rowan.”
“Oh, my lady, in you I’ve acquired a very difficult woman.”
“You and Perry mean everything to me, so you can’t expect me to remain here kicking my heels! It’s not fair.”
He caught her hand, and smoothed her palm briefly with his thumb. “Very well, but we’ll have to be careful. There are two ways to the steps at the back of the house, one is between the tower and the stables, the other is from the orchard. The first is clearly out of the question, so it has to be the orchard, which means getting in through the door in the wall. I only hope Falk neglected to push the bolt back across after speaking to you the other day. Come on, if we stay in the trees, we’ll be able to ride most of the way.”
