A Place to Call Home

by Evie Grace

  ‘I’ve thought about that,’ she said. ‘As long as we get away from Canterbury, we’ll be out of harm’s way. One of us can take care of Minnie while the others look for work. What about Tabby, though? Did you meet with her?’

  Arthur nodded. ‘I can’t say too much, but all is well between us.’

  ‘Oh, that’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time.’

  ‘It doesn’t mean we’ve set a date,’ he smiled.

  ‘What are you three whispering about?’

  Rose looked up to find Minnie dressed in her nightgown, clinging to the door frame and dragging her foot, her eyes black with pain.

  ‘Hush. You should be in bed.’

  ‘Why do you not include me in your plans?’ Minnie said, looking hurt. Rose suppressed a pang of guilt. ‘I’m not stupid.’

  Donald offered Minnie his arm to lean on.

  ‘Please, trust us,’ he said, escorting her back into the bedroom. ‘Go back to sleep. Our aunt must not suspect a thing.’

  Arthur turned to Rose. ‘Pack your things – we’ll leave tonight.’

  ‘Not tonight. It’s too soon. We aren’t prepared.’

  ‘The longer we stay, the more we put ourselves in danger.’

  ‘I know that, but we aren’t ready—’

  ‘What is going on up there? Why aren’t you asleep?’ Rose froze at the sound of her aunt’s voice.

  ‘Nothing, Aunt,’ Arthur called back. ‘I thought I heard my sister cry out, but it must have been a fox outside. I was mistaken.’

  ‘Well, wash your ears out in future,’ she shouted.

  For a moment, Rose thought that their tormentor was heading up the stairs, but her footsteps faded into the distance.

  ‘They’ll try to stop us leaving,’ Donald said, re-joining them on the landing.

  ‘We’ll leave after dinner this time next week – that way we can travel on full stomachs and in the dark in case the Kingsleys send someone after us,’ Rose said. ‘Arthur, I will decant some laudanum into the wine. You and Donald must abstain from drinking it, but make sure their glasses are topped up.’ It was Arthur’s role to pour the wine for their uncle and aunt at mealtimes as if he was some kind of butler.

  ‘How will you get the sleeping drops away from her?’ Arthur asked.

  ‘I have that in hand,’ Rose said.

  ‘I’ll make sure the barrer’s clean,’ Donald said, ‘and I’ll see what else I can lay my hands on.’

  She didn’t censure him. In her opinion, the Kingsleys owed them. ‘Just don’t draw attention to yourself, or try to bring too much with us – we don’t want to be weighed down. And leave the barrow in the yard – don’t bring it here or they’ll suspect that we are up to something. Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone – not to Joe, not to Mr Hales or Mr Jones …’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll do anything to get us away from here,’ Donald said.

  ‘Goodnight then.’ Rose waited for her brothers to return to their rooms before joining Minnie who, having exerted herself walking from the bed to the doorway and back, had fallen into a deep sleep. She felt a sense of optimism mixed with dread. Would the Kingsleys find out and thwart their attempt at escape?

  On the day they were due to leave Willow Place, Rose went out on her errand to the apothecary where she politely enquired after Tabby.

  ‘She has gone out for the day,’ Mr Miskin said. ‘Your sister is still suffering from her broken bones? Will you require more bandages?’

  ‘No, thank you. Just the sleeping drops.’

  ‘You know, I wish you wouldn’t think badly of me,’ he said suddenly, looking over his half-moon spectacles as he gave her a new bottle and took her money. ‘Arthur was right to break off the engagement in the circumstances. Like I said to Tabby, it’s far better to spend a few weeks or months in misery, than suffer one’s whole life in penury. A wedding is like the opening of a bottle of physic. As soon as the mixture is exposed to air – and the bride and groom to the tedium of everyday life – the ingredients start to decay and lose their efficacy. The once potent elixir of love can no longer keep the marriage alive.’

  ‘I don’t believe that, Mr Miskin.’

  ‘Perhaps that is why your parents never fell out of love – because they never got hitched. Maybe there is a lesson for us all in that.’

  ‘Mr Miskin? Mr Miskin, stop gassing and get out the back here,’ came a woman’s voice.

  He rolled his eyes heavenwards. ‘Yes, dear. I’m just serving a customer. I’ll be on my way as soon as I can.’

  Hurrying home, Rose took the original bottle of sleeping drops from the dresser in the kitchen, tipped half the contents of the new one into it and topped it up with water. She opened a bottle of wine, poured it into a decanter and added most of the remaining undiluted laudanum to it before replacing the cut-glass stopper. Crossing her fingers, she hoped it would be enough.

  Later, she watched her aunt dispensing a dose of sleeping drops for her sister from the dregs left in the new bottle.

  ‘Where is the bottle that you bought today, Rose?’ her aunt asked, looking up from where she was sitting on the edge of Minnie’s bed. ‘This one is nearly out.’

  ‘I’ve put it away in the dresser.’

  ‘Bring it up next time you come.’

  ‘Yes, Aunt. I came to ask you what I should prepare for dinner.’

  ‘Whatever you can make from the ingredients in the pantry. Mr Kingsley wishes us to make some economies.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do.’ The stingy old fool spent money like water on his own pleasures, allowing little for anyone else, even his loyal wife.

  ‘You are turning out to be a conscientious and hard-working maid, Rose.’ Her aunt’s mouth twisted into a smile as she stared at her through narrowed eyes. ‘Perhaps Mr Kingsley and I should promote you to the role of housekeeper. I’m sure that one day you will wish to leave us to get married and have your own family, but we will always need at least one servant, and you suit us so well … I think we’d find it impossible to let you go.’

  Rose suppressed a shiver of fear, wondering if she had done something to arouse her aunt’s suspicions.

  ‘Run along now.’ Her aunt dismissed her without further comment and Rose breathed a sigh of relief as she headed down to the kitchen to put on her apron and make a chicken stew followed by jam roly-poly pudding and egg custard.

  At dinner, Arthur kept the Kingsleys’ glasses topped up with wine.

  ‘Aren’t you having any?’ Aunt Temperance asked him.

  ‘Not tonight, thank you,’ he said, touching the decanter to the rim of her glass to catch a drip.

  ‘You know why that is,’ Mr Kingsley laughed. ‘He was seen with Miss Miskin under the willows last night – he is walking out with her again and he doesn’t want to risk the brewer’s droop.’

  ‘It’s supposed to be a secret,’ Arthur said, flushing. ‘And Miss Miskin isn’t that kind of woman, I’ll have you know.’

  ‘Her father doesn’t know you have renewed your courtship then?’

  ‘I don’t have to explain myself to you or anyone else,’ Arthur said coldly.

  ‘I’ll have to have a word in his ear,’ Mr Kingsley went on, forgetting the rule about no talking at meal-times.

  Rose bit her tongue, glancing at Arthur to warn him to do the same as the clock in the hall struck nine. There was no point in upsetting the apple cart when they would be on the move in a couple of hours’ time.

  Aunt Temperance yawned, her eyes darkening as the laudanum began to take effect.

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ she sighed. ‘I’ve come over sleepy all of a sudden.’

  ‘You have taken more wine than usual,’ Mr Kingsley said, smacking his lips together.

  ‘That’s because Arthur keeps filling my glass.’ For a moment, a cold thrill ran down Rose’s spine. Had they been discovered? She thought of their bags, packed and ready under the bed upstairs.

  ‘I shall partake of a little of this magnificent
pudding, then retire to bed,’ Aunt Temperance went on.

  ‘It is a wonderful dessert,’ Mr Kingsley said, his eyes on Rose. Her nerves were jangling. She could hardly eat it with him watching her like that, but she forced herself because she didn’t know when their next meal would be. He cleared his plate, put his spoon down, wiped his mouth and leaned back in Pa’s chair, the heavy oak carver worn smooth by years of use. He closed his eyes, his mouth slackened and his jaw dropped. The wine bottle was empty, but his glass was still half full.

  ‘Have you no manners?’ Aunt Temperance said shrilly, the sound jerking him from his slumber. ‘It isn’t polite to fall asleep at the table. You really must set a better example to our dear children.’

  Rose sighed inwardly. Why did she insist on keeping up the pretence that they were five years old and she had maternal feelings for them?

  ‘Mr Kingsley, get up this minute.’ Aunt Temperance was on her feet, berating her husband and patting him on the cheek. ‘How many times do I have to beg you to consider your wife’s feelings and put a stop to your drinking? It isn’t good for you. You have an old man’s nose, bloodshot eyes and stinking breath.’

  ‘I am an old man,’ he muttered. ‘I’m worn out.’ He slumped back again.

  ‘You are three sheets to the wind.’ Aunt Temperance looked towards Arthur. ‘You and Donald must help him up the stairs to bed.’

  Rose began to worry that her aunt wasn’t going to succumb to the laudanum – maybe she had grown used to it, having partaken of the sleeping drops every day since she’d first brought them back from the apothecary. Luckily, though, her aunt picked up Mr Kingsley’s wine glass and drained it herself.

  ‘There, you will not have any more.’ She swayed and dropped the glass on the floor, having apparently lost her sense of coordination.

  ‘I’ll get on and do the dishes,’ Rose said, getting up from the table as was her usual custom.

  ‘Mind you put the plates away this time,’ her aunt said, slurring her words. ‘I don’t want to find them still out in the morning. And I’d like hot water for my wash, not lukewarm.’ She yawned again. ‘Oh dear, I can hardly keep my eyes open. Goodnight.’ She followed Arthur and Donald, who were hauling an insensible Mr Kingsley out of the dining room.

  Rose cleared the table, but left the dishes piled up in the sink in one last act of rebellion. As she headed out of the scullery a few minutes later, she ran into Arthur who was at the back door with a carpet bag slung over his shoulder and a pair of boots tied to the handles by the laces.

  ‘What is it?’ she whispered. ‘You’re worrying me.’

  ‘Shh,’ he warned as he fiddled with the bolt. ‘I’ve been running this through my head over and over again, and I can only come up with one solution – that I leave for London while you and the twins go to seek refuge with your grandmother.’

  ‘What do you think Ma and Pa would have had to say about this? We must stick together.’

  ‘And I would stay if I could,’ he said roughly. ‘Look at us. Who would willingly take in four people, four mouths to feed? You and the twins are family. I am a stranger to your grandmother, a cuckoo in the nest.’

  ‘Arthur, we are all the same family,’ Rose argued quietly.

  ‘In a way, but I’ve always felt different. Ma and Pa did their best – and I loved them as they loved me – but I had a mother whom I adored before them.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Rose began.

  ‘Hush,’ he said. ‘There is nothing to be sorry about. This is the right thing to do. I wouldn’t find work easily. I was born and brought up here in Canterbury. I know nothing of farming.’

  ‘Then we won’t go,’ she said. ‘We won’t go anywhere without you.’

  ‘You aren’t thinking straight. Listen to me.’

  ‘Arthur, please don’t go. I beg you.’ She clung to him. ‘I can’t do this on my own.’

  ‘It won’t be for ever.’ Gently, he disengaged himself from her. ‘Just let me take this one chance of making things better for all of us – you, me, the twins and Tabby.’

  ‘Tabby?’

  He nodded. ‘She’s coming with me.’

  ‘You’re eloping?’

  ‘I suppose you can call it that. Anyway, we’re going to join Bert in London. I’ll send word as soon as I can.’ He paused. ‘I have a dream and I’m going to make it come true.’ He had another go at opening the door.

  ‘The screw for the bolt is on top of the door frame,’ Rose whispered. ‘I had the foresight to put it there in advance, knowing how our aunt puts it in her pocket when she retires to bed. She has forgotten this evening, which means we have avoided a scene. I’ve oiled the hinges too so they won’t make a sound.’

  ‘Ah, you are much cleverer than me.’ Arthur reached up for the screw and twisted it into the bolt. ‘Until we meet again, dear sister. Please, say goodbye to the twins for me.’

  ‘Aren’t you going to speak to them?’

  ‘No, I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m too much of a coward and I don’t want them making a scene. Good luck.’

  ‘Take care, Arthur.’

  He slid the bolt back, opened the door and slipped out into the darkness, taking part of Rose’s heart with him. She wondered if they would ever see him again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Overshill

  Holding herself together, Rose went upstairs to find Minnie sitting in bed propped up against a pillow, an empty plate beside her.

  ‘You are awake,’ she said softly, inwardly thanking Ma for her lessons in keeping one’s emotions in check. The tears and accusations over Arthur’s departure would come later, when she and the twins were clear of Willow Place, their childhood home filled with precious memories of a time when they had been the happiest family alive.

  ‘I did as you said – I’ve only taken the tiniest bit of medicine and my head is quite clear, although the pain is terribly bad. Anyway, I’ve been thinking that I should stay behind with the Kingsleys,’ Minnie said quietly.

  ‘That’s impossible. I won’t let that happen.’

  ‘I’m a burden. I’ll only hold you and the others back.’

  ‘That is a kind and thoughtful offer, but I have no intention of leaving you behind and that’s my last word on the matter.’ Rose dashed a tear from her eye.

  ‘You’re crying?’

  ‘It’s dust, that’s all. Have you packed the patchwork and our sewing box?’

  Minnie nodded and pointed to the bag on the bed.

  ‘We’re ready then. We’ll wait until the clock downstairs strikes midnight, then be on our way.’ Rose listened intently for the chimes, and on the last, she picked up their bags – a carpet bag and a portmanteau of her father’s which she had found in the shed – and handed Minnie one of Mr Kingsley’s fancy walking sticks, which she had taken from the hallstand.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Minnie said, thumping her stick against the floor.

  Rose put her finger to her lips. ‘Shh,’ she whispered.

  ‘Sorry,’ Minnie whispered back.

  ‘We’re going to a place called Overshill, near Selling. It’ll be quite a walk, but we’ll have the barrow and Donald will drag it along by the handle, and I’ll give it a push from the rear if it gets stuck in the mud.’

  ‘I’ll walk with the stick,’ Minnie said bravely as Donald appeared in the room with another bag and a roll of clothes across his shoulders.

  ‘Where’s Arthur?’ he asked. ‘Isn’t he supposed to be here?’

  Rose steeled herself as she took Minnie’s arm and helped her off the bed. ‘He’s gone ahead. We thought it was for the best. Come along. We must hurry.’ She didn’t want to run into anyone, even the knocker-upper with his baton, stick and peashooter. ‘Donald, pick up the bags,’ she hissed, and the three of them set out down the first flight of stairs. They paused on the next landing to listen to their aunt’s soft snores. So far so good.

  As they continued down the second flight of stairs with Minnie wincing at every movem
ent of her body, a pewter mug fell from one of the bags and clattered down the steps.

  ‘No, keep going,’ Rose whispered when Donald made to retrieve it, afraid that if their aunt woke up, she would beat them half to death.

  They struggled through the hall and kitchen to the back door, and Rose pushed it open then helped Minnie across the garden and along the passageway at the side of the house, where they had to force their way past the overgrown laurels in the faint light of a crescent moon, before hurrying down the drive and crossing the street to the yard. Minnie leaned against the wall, breathing hard, while Donald unlocked the gates and nipped into the yard to fetch the barrow. It wasn’t an ordinary push barrow, but a more substantial, four-wheeled dog cart with wooden wheels straked with iron, and a handle to pull it along.

  Rose lit the wick of the lamp Donald had left hidden in the barrow the day before, and hooked it on the side while Donald loaded it with their bags. Together, they lifted Minnie on top. Rose straightened Minnie’s leg as far as she could.

  ‘What have you done with the bandages and splint?’ she said, suddenly realising that they were gone, and Minnie was wearing a double layer of stockings instead.

  ‘I took them off – they were too tight.’

  ‘Well, you should have left them alone – they were doing you some good. I should be livid with you after all the trouble I went to.’ She placed a blanket over Minnie for warmth.

  ‘I don’t need that,’ Minnie said abruptly. ‘It’s the middle of July.’

  ‘You leave it on. You’ll soon feel the cold when we get moving, and I don’t want you catching your death …’ Rose’s voice faded as she thought of Ma and how much she sounded like her.

  Donald leaned forward against the handle of the barrow, giving it a good shove. Minnie’s cry of protest sent a flock of roosting pigeons rising from a nearby roof, fluttering into the night sky. Donald picked up Minnie’s stick and took a top hat from his bag. He made a show of dusting it down and placing it on his head.

  ‘If I were a gentleman, I would—’

  ‘Don’t tell me that’s … you’ve stolen Mr Kingsley’s hat! He will come and find us for sure.’