A Ring Through Time

by Pulman, Felicity

  ‘No, thank you, Mr Baldock. I was just out on a short walk to take the air. I am quite safe, I assure you.’

  I nod to them and continue walking, my head held high. I do not dare to turn around to see what they are doing, where they are going, lest they sense my unease. With a clutch of fear I remember my father’s threat to Reverend Rogers: There is not a lot that happens on this island without my knowledge. You will do well to bear that in mind. I am fairly sure that Baldock is one of my father’s spies. And what of the guard? Will he tell Baldock what he saw at the allotment, or has the incident been forgotten?

  As I near the house, I look for signs that I might have been missed. All seems quiet, although the sentry has been joined by two other men. I dodge quickly out of sight before they can see me. I cannot return through the cellar for the door only opens outwards. I shall have to wait until the sentries are distracted. I risk a quick glance up at the windows, hoping to spot my sister and, if possible, signal to her that another diversion is needed. But there is no sign of her. There is no sign of anyone.

  My mouth is dry; my heart beats uncomfortably fast. The excitement of being with Cormac has changed to fear, both on his account and on my own.

  I walk around the back of the house, hoping to find some way in. Then I check my steps. If I am seen by the servants, there will be gossip and innuendo, which will reach my father. I don’t want that. Growing impatient, I peer around the corner to check once more on the sentries. They stand at the front of the house. To my horror, my father now stands beside them. I dodge back, but I realise I am too late.

  ‘Alice!’ he roars. ‘Come here at once.’

  Inwardly quaking, I walk towards him trying to look as if I have not a care in the world.

  ‘Where have you been?’ He has never sounded so angry.

  ‘I thought the emergency was over so I walked out for a breath of fresh air,’ I say innocently.

  ‘That is not what your mother says. You were supposed to be in your room, but you have been gone for quite some time it seems.’

  Father casts a glance at the sentries, who are still at attention but listening hard. He grasps my arm and drags me inside. Once out of the public gaze, he lets go. ‘Get in there,’ he rasps, jerking his head in the direction of the drawing room. Feeling a deep dread, I enter, followed closely by my father.

  ‘William, Susannah, out!’ he orders.

  Susannah touches my hand, mouthing an apology as she walks past me. I force a smile, knowing that it is not her fault that my absence was noted. It was folly to stay away as long as I did.

  A half-sob draws my gaze to my mother, who is sitting to one side, a handkerchief crumpled in her hand and her eyes red from crying. Full of remorse, I hurry over to her.

  ‘I am so sorry to cause you worry,’ I say. ‘It is just that I cannot stand being cooped up here. We are prisoners just as much as the convicts are.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Father’s voice is stony with rage. ‘You have no idea of the danger you put yourself in. One of the convicts killed a guard this morning, and tried to escape. Had he succeeded, your paths might well have crossed and he might have killed you too. As it is, he was apprehended quickly enough, and I shall make sure he hangs, along with anyone else who was involved in this affray. Meanwhile, I have ordered a lockdown for the rest of the day.’

  A lockdown! How will Cormac get back into the barracks in safety? For the first time, I bitterly regret meeting him. And yet, he would have gone to the cemetery and waited for me there anyway, so my absence would have changed nothing. I pray silently that he will not walk into a trap; that he will stay hidden as he promised until he can mingle with the other convicts and pretend that he was always present.

  My mother clears her throat. ‘Surely you do not have the power to order a hanging, dear?’ she asks my father. ‘Should not something as serious as this be reported to the Governor and a proper trial held in front of a judge?’

  ‘There is no question of the man’s guilt.’ My father’s face is almost puce with rage.

  I wonder at my mother’s courage, and speak up quickly. ‘It would be a shame if the authorities thought you had acted in anger and without due respect for the law, Father. There is no harm in making a report, surely, and waiting for a reply?’

  ‘Listen to your daughter, my dear,’ Mother adds. ‘She has a sensible head on her shoulders for one so young.’

  I exchange a quick glance with my mother. Perhaps she is not quite as unaware of my father’s reputation as I suspected.

  ‘A sensible head!’ my father repeats. ‘I think not, after her behaviour today. And I will thank you both not to question my actions in this matter, or my authority. I know well enough —’

  Father’s tirade is interrupted by a loud knocking. With a muttered oath, he strides out of the room and I hear him berate the convict servant who has answered the front door. Curious, I poke my head out of the room to see what the latest alarm is all about. I freeze as I recognise the visitor. Baldock. He is puffing, out of breath, and I am fairly sure I know why.

  Father is listening intently to Baldock’s urgent whispers. The man looks up, and his gaze locks onto me. A sly smile curves his lips.

  I begin to shake, and collapse onto the nearest chair. How deeply I now regret stepping onto the dangerous path that has brought Cormac and me to this point. I wish with all my heart that I had taken Elizabeth’s advice and cut him free. But, more than anything, I cannot help mourning what might have been, the future we might have had together if only circumstances were different.

  ‘Alice!’ My father’s stern voice makes me jump. He grips my forearm and yanks me to my feet. ‘Where did you go this morning when you were taking your “breath of fresh air”, as you call it?’

  I know that it is futile to lie, for Baldock will have reported exactly where I came from.

  ‘I went walking in the cemetery, Father. It is quiet there, peaceful, with only the dead for company. I had thought to do some drawing, but then realised I had stupidly left my sketchpad behind.’

  I laugh, trying to sound nonchalant, but my laughter comes out high and shrill, and I realise that I have, instead, betrayed my terror. I feel sick with fright as I wait for my father to question me about Cormac. To my surprise, he does not. Instead, he lets me go and surveys me with a fierce expression.

  ‘Listen to me,’ he says slowly. ‘When you hear a warning shot, it means you must stay in the house and not leave it until you have my permission. Is that quite clear?’

  Numb with fear, I nod. Is it possible that Cormac has not been found, or even missed? I close my eyes, giving brief thanks that he has been spared.

  ‘Further, you will never go out on your own again. In future, you must have your mother and sister and a guard with you at all times. Do you understand me?’

  ‘Yes, Father. I am sorry to have caused you so much worry.’

  ‘You were lucky this time. You may not be so lucky again. A convict has gone missing from the barracks. Had you encountered him, you might not have escaped with your life.’

  Cormac! I can hardly hide my dismay.

  Father gives an impatient click of his tongue. ‘I shall expect you to behave better in the future,’ he says. ‘And to that end, it is time we found a husband for you. You will be better occupied looking after a husband and a home than wandering about the cemetery.’

  No! I want to cry the word aloud, but think better of it. I am in quite enough trouble for now. I shall deal with the issue later, once my father has calmed down. And once I am sure that Cormac is safe. I can hardly think for fear of what might be happening to him even now. I pray that he will be able to talk himself out of danger as he promised he could.

  Monday

  I have spent the last few days busying myself with household duties and making myself useful by entertaining William or fetching and carrying for Mother. At my urging, we have ventured out several times, in company with a guard, to visit the small shop run by the
gaolkeeper’s wife or to promenade and take the air. Whenever we are out, I look for Cormac or his brother, and listen for news. But I see and hear nothing.

  On one occasion, we walked down to Emily Bay. There were no sea-bathers there that day, so I was free to gaze at the ocean for as long as I wished. I looked across the reef and the foaming waves to the deep blue beyond and lapsed into a fantasy in which Cormac and I sailed away beyond the horizon to a land where we were free to love and live our lives as we wished. With no news of Cormac, I feel as if part of me is missing. There is a gap in my heart that nothing can fill. I look for him everywhere, but he is never among the parties of convicts who tend Father’s allotment or those who labour at building roads. Nor is he involved in completing the new pentagonal gaol with the stones hewn so painfully by the chain gangs.

  My days are filled with memories of our last meeting, while my nights are restless with dreams that are overshadowed by a nameless fear; a fear that has begun to seep into my waking hours. Where is Cormac? Why can I not find him anywhere?

  Thursday

  I have the answer at last, and it is devastating.

  The day begins innocently enough, with a walk followed by a morning of sewing, before we sit down to dinner with our mother and William.

  ‘Where is Father?’ Susannah asks, just as he enters the room.

  He nods at us, sits down and we say grace. ‘I have been at the gaol listening to the prisoners’ pleas and making arrangements,’ he says as he unfolds his napkin. ‘They will be hanged tomorrow at dawn.’

  I stare at him, the fear at the back of my mind beginning to take shape.

  ‘Who is to be hanged?’ Susannah asks, with a nervous glance in my direction.

  ‘The convict who ran amok and killed a guard the other day. And the Irishman who was also involved in the plot.’

  Father looks directly at me as he answers Susannah’s question.

  ‘No!’ I am only aware that I have screamed the word aloud when I hear its fading echoes.

  ‘Which Irishman?’ Susannah asks sharply.

  ‘The one they call Cormac.’

  Father ladles two pork chops onto his plate and begins to fill the rest of the space with potato mash and cabbage. I sit silently, not caring that tears are running down my face. Inside, I rage and scream in protest, but I know I must keep calm, think rationally, if I am to have any hope of saving Cormac. His life is in my hands. I alone know the truth. I can save him if only I have the courage to open my mouth.

  A thought strikes me, and I will myself to sound calm as I ask the question. ‘Why do you think the Irishman was involved, Father? I remember you told me that he is quiet, that he keeps himself out of trouble.’

  Father stops cutting into his chop and stares at me. ‘I can understand why you might want to protect him, Alice. But I shall not show leniency because he is a talented musician. The fact is, he went missing at the time of the riot. I suspect that he was involved in the killing of the guard and was trying to escape from the island in the confusion that followed. That was why I was so concerned about your safety, Alice. With a prisoner on the loose, you were lucky to escape with your life. You can be grateful that he was found and brought back to the barracks before he could murder anyone else.’

  He is watching me as an eagle watches a mouse. Although I tremble at the thought of his anger, I know that the only way to save Cormac’s life is to tell the truth. And so I take a deep breath, and then another, praying for the courage, and the words, to change my father’s mind.

  ‘He is innocent of everything but the crime of meeting me, if crime that is.’

  I pause a moment to gauge Father’s reaction. My mother and sister are quiet. Even William has stopped his chatter and is staring at me. I swallow hard, knowing that I must go on. I will risk everything to save Cormac.

  ‘He cannot have been involved in killing the guard, or in any other crime,’ I say. ‘I know that because he was waiting for me. At the cemetery.’

  ‘Alice!’ Mother’s voice is rough with alarm. ‘Don’t —’

  Father’s tone is steely. ‘Then I shall take the appropriate steps to ensure that you will never have the chance to meet him again.’

  ‘Please don’t punish Cormac, Father. Please!’

  Blinded by tears, I stretch out my arms in a desperate appeal for mercy. But my father turns away and applies himself to pouring gravy over his food with a fierce concentration.

  ‘Alice?’ Susannah breaks the stunned silence as I jump up and push away my chair. ‘Come with me.’

  Her touch is gentle as she helps me from the room. I welcome her supporting arm for I am shaking so badly I can hardly walk.

  ‘There is no point trying to reason with Father when he is in this sort of mood, you must know that,’ she whispers as soon as we are safely in my bedroom.

  I am sobbing so hard I cannot speak.

  ‘I heard Father talking to Mother last night, only he did not mention Cormac by name,’ Susannah confides. ‘That man who came to the door? His name is Baldock. He already knew a convict was missing when he saw you coming from the cemetery. Father said he and a guard found the missing man hiding among the trees at the cemetery. According to Father, it was a miracle you were not slain by him.’

  ‘Of course I was not slain by Cormac!’ Anger restores my voice. ‘That guard was the same man who saw you and me walking away from Father’s new vegetable garden. If they already knew Cormac was missing when they saw me, then the cemetery was the obvious place to start looking for him. Father’s spies are everywhere, and he rewards them for telling tales.’ I take a deep, shuddering breath. ‘I wonder how much he has paid them for Cormac’s life.’

  ‘Alice, don’t say that!’ Tears glisten in Susannah’s eyes. ‘It is all my fault for drawing that guard’s attention to us in the first place. I am so sorry! You know I would give anything in the world to change what has happened.’

  Grief keeps me silent. I can find no words to reassure Susannah, or to heal my shattered heart.

  Susannah is openly crying. ‘Father might not have believed Baldock’s story, but now you have made sure of it. Is it really true that you went to the cemetery because you knew Cormac would be there?’

  A painful lump blocks my throat. I nod.

  ‘Oh, Alice. I am so sorry. What can I do to help?’

  I scrub my eyes, and try desperately to come up with a sensible course of action. ‘I don’t know.’ My voice is a feeble croak. I feel hopeless and helpless. ‘I cannot think of anything to say that will not harden Father’s determination to hang Cormac.’

  Even putting the thought into words is more than I can bear. I grip Susannah’s hand as if she can keep me from drowning in misery and regret. ‘I wish I had never …’

  ‘It is too late for that,’ she says. ‘Maybe you should try to make light of it, say that you arranged to meet Cormac to talk about violin lessons. That is not so very bad, after all.’ She pauses to blow her nose and wipe her eyes. ‘I don’t know what you did together in the cemetery,’ she casts a sharp glance in my direction, ‘but from what I overheard, Cormac has not said anything about seeing you. He claims he was outside the barracks when the alarm sounded and decided to hide and keep out of trouble.’

  The knowledge of Cormac’s silence stabs me to the heart. I had thought to help his situation by telling the truth. Instead, I have succeeded in sealing his fate. I begin to weep once more.

  ‘This is all my fault. Father should punish me instead. I encouraged Cormac, I gave him hope. Oh!’ I throw myself onto my bed and beat my pillow with a clenched fist. ‘There must be something I can do to save him.’

  ‘You and Mother are right,’ Susannah says. ‘Father has no jurisdiction to hang anyone without first allowing them a proper trial in front of a judge. Or at least a trial in front of the magistrate and those others who make up a jury panel. You must speak to him again and remind him of that.’

  Susannah is referring to the men who usually sit in j
udgment on prisoners for lesser infringements of the law. They include Elizabeth’s father, Reverend Rogers and several others, most of whom have fallen foul of our father for one reason or another.

  ‘You know Father has no respect for any of them,’ I say. ‘He will not allow them to interfere with his determination to conduct a hanging.’

  ‘Then speak to him yourself,’ Susannah urges again. ‘Remind him that Cormac could not have played any part in the murder of the guard because he was in the cemetery talking to you. Tell him that being absent from the barracks for a short time is not a hanging offence, and that you will say as much to those men on the jury panel, if necessary. Don’t let Father bully you, Alice. Stand up to him.’

  She strokes my arm. ‘Wait until he has eaten his dinner. He might have calmed down a bit by then. And make sure Mother is in the room when you speak to him, because you will need an ally. I shall be there with you too, if you wish?’

  It is a plan, of sorts, and I hold on to it as I listen to the clink of cutlery against china and the muted hum of conversation around the dinner table. Susannah has gone back to say what she can to smooth matters over. I wish her well, but my thoughts are all of Cormac. Where is he being held? In the dumb cells? Has he been flogged? The images of him being punished, even tortured, torment me.

  The sound of a slammed door brings me to my feet. I rush to the front of the house and look out of the window. Father is walking off in the direction of the gaol. Is he going to see Cormac? Have my sister and mother prevailed? Will Cormac be granted a pardon? Or is my father going to try to beat the truth out of him?

  If only I could have talked to Father before he went out. I watch his retreating back, and the cold fear at the pit of my belly grows until it becomes too much for me to bear. I run back to my room and collapse onto my bed. Too late. The thought hammers through my mind in a ceaseless refrain. Too late. Too late. I fall to my knees on the floor and beat my fists uselessly against the wall.

  I am still crouched there when Susannah, white-faced and red-eyed, comes to find me. I look at her, knowing in my heart that my worst fears have been realised.