Heirs of Acadia - 03 - The Noble Fugitive

by T. Davis Bunn

  “Nonsense, if you don’t mind me saying it, sir. When was the last time you had a hot meal?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “There, you see?” Daniel said. “A soldier always eats when it’s on offer, and Mattie keeps as fine a kitchen as any you’ll find in London town.” He turned back to the maid. “Kippers and ham and fresh-baked bread, that’s the ticket.”

  “I’ll see to that.” The maid rushed back to the kitchen with her message, and the two men heard Mattie say, “Go find me a robe so I can look halfway decent for the guests. I was just up to light the kitchen fire when this great hulking gent here comes and disturbs my morning.”

  Daniel led Falconer into the kitchen. The maid swiftly returned with a quilted robe, handed it to the cook, and asked fearfully, “Is there news?”

  “Aye, and it must wait for the missus,” Mattie complained, banging her pots. “Though how a body is expected to survive such dread, I haven’t a clue.”

  “What I’ve heard of the news is good,” Daniel assured them. “But the rest must wait for Mrs. Powers.”

  “Praise be all the saints in heaven,” Mattie said. “You men sit yourselves down. The two of you standing here crowds the very air, you’re so big.”

  But before they could settle in, there came a rush of feet down the stairs. Two women came in—very different in appearance, yet both cut from the same cloth, or so it seemed to Falconer. They wore robes over nightclothes, hair tumbling down in nighttime disarray. Yet there was nothing sleepy about their expressions. Both looked alarmed and clung to one another with frantic hope. One demanded breathlessly, “You have news?”

  “Are you Mrs. Powers?”

  “I am,” said the taller of the two.

  He bowed. “John Falconer at your service, ma’am. I bring warm greetings from your husband, who instructed me to say he longs to see you again.”

  The two women were joined by a man of severe bearing. He rested one hand upon the shoulder of each woman and held them close. Erica Powers asked in an imploring voice, “And my baby?”

  “Hannah is quite well, ma’am, and also sends her love.”

  “Finally,” the smaller woman murmured, “our prayers have been answered.”

  The cook clasped her hands to her ample middle and whispered, “Thank you, Lord Jesus. Thank you.”

  “Then why are they not here?” Erica Powers demanded.

  “The same reason it has taken them so long to return from America, Mrs. Powers. Croup.”

  “But they are in England?”

  “Arrived at Portsmouth docks . . .” Falconer frowned and sought to calculate the time. But he could not make sense of the miles and hours and endless road. “What day is it?”

  “Never mind that!” She moved quickly toward him. “Tell me where they are!”

  “Harrow Hall, ma’am. In Wiltshire. They—”

  “I must go to them.” She would have fled the room immediately except for the man once more putting a firm hand upon her shoulder.

  “I sense Falconer here has not completed his report,” he said.

  “But—”

  “A moment, Erica. Please.” The man asked, “You have more?”

  “Yes, sir. But I was instructed to be discreet.”

  “My name is Samuel Aldridge. This is my wife, Lavinia.”

  “I have heard of you, sir.” Falconer glanced at the cook and her assistant.

  “They are family,” Samuel Aldridge stated flatly. “As is Daniel here.”

  “Sir.” Falconer returned his attention to Erica Powers.

  “Your husband and daughter were attacked at Georgetown harbor. Mr. Powers said I must warn you that there are spies about.”

  “Spies and worse than spies,” Aldridge sternly agreed. “Is that why they went to Harrow?”

  “Partly, sir. Gareth, that is, Mr. Powers, did not feel up to traveling into London first, though he sorely wanted to see you, Mrs. Powers. He also did not want to risk a single night in this home. Not for himself alone, but for the child and your own sakes as well. Even then he debated coming here first, but I urged him not to, and I am glad he heeded my word.”

  Aldridge declared, “It is not like Gareth to send another man into danger. What are you not telling us?”

  “In truth, sir, he has not been at all well. He slept almost the entire first nine days we were at sea. He appeared better for a time. Then his fever returned, and the past few days have been a close-run thing.”

  “I must fly!” Erica wheeled about. Samuel Aldridge did not hold her back. Lavinia Aldridge rushed to follow her upstairs.

  “A fever, did you say?” Aldridge asked.

  Falconer wished for all his faculties, for clearly these people were anxious for details. “I feared we would lose him, sir. He has been most unwell.”

  Aldridge gripped the nearest chair back. “But he lives, you say.”

  “His strength of will is remarkable to behold.” Falconer felt a wave of weariness sweep over him as he tried to maintain his wits during his report.

  “Sit, man, sit. Mattie, bring the gentleman something to eat.”

  “I’m on it, sir.” Swiftly the place before him on the table became crowded with plates and utensils. “Here you are, Mr. Falconer. Yesterday’s bread is all we have, I’m afraid. But it’s still fine, I warrant, and nothing spices up the food like a good appetite. A Wesleyan cheese, and butter I churned myself, and some honey. And coffee, now, and cream, and you just wait, I’ll fry you up—”

  “Mattie,” Aldridge said mildly.

  “Sorry, sir. I’m going on a bit, aren’t I? I’ll be quiet as the tomb now. Not a word more.”

  Aldridge drew out the chair next to Falconer’s and seated himself. “You came into Portsmouth, you say.”

  “Aye. Yesterday. Just before dawn. Mr. Powers and I talked this through at length. He tells me Harrow Hall is owned by a strong ally of yours. It being a walled estate and somewhat isolated, he and the child could hopefully rest safely and gain strength. I volunteered to come straight away for his wife. It was the only reason he agreed to go on to Harrow, if I would travel here without delay.”

  “A wise course. How is Hannah?”

  “I’m no doctor, sir.”

  “Tell me what you know.”

  “She is weak and has her spells. But she seems to be making more steady progress than her father.”

  “She is young.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “And an angel,” the cook added, busy over the fire.

  “That she is, ma’am.”

  “How did they get to Harrow Hall?”

  “I hired a coach at Portsmouth. We bundled Gareth, that is, Mr. Powers . . .”

  “Call him as you will. I take it you are not a manservant but a traveling companion.”

  “I agreed to do what I could for father and child, sir. But I am on a mission of my own.”

  “What is it? Is there something I can do to help?”

  Falconer hesitated. The man’s strength and bearing resembled Gareth’s on his few good days.

  “Speak up, man. Gareth and Erica Powers are as close to me as my own kin. We moved Erica into my son’s bedroom so as to help her during the uncertainty and fear. She was wasting away with worry over Gareth and the child.” Aldridge nodded his thanks when the cook set a plate and cup of coffee in front of him. “Gareth should never have made that journey to America.”

  “Begging your pardon, sir,” Daniel put in, “but he had to go.”

  “His place was here.”

  “Mr. Wilberforce himself urged him to make the journey.”

  To that Aldridge made no response save to sip noisily from his cup.

  Falconer ventured, “I hear Mr. Wilberforce has been unwell.”

  “He has spent years making ill health a profession.” Yet Aldridge’s tone held no criticism, only deep concern. “But this time I fear for the worst. Why, do you know him?”

  “I was told to seek him out.”

/>   “Well, that will have to wait, I’m afraid. The man is seeing no one. I am as close to him as any, and I’ve not laid eyes on him in almost two months.”

  Falconer leaned back in his chair, defeated. “Then I fear my cause is lost.”

  “Nonsense!” Aldridge’s tone boded no argument. “William Wilberforce may be a great and even singular man. But he is far from alone. He is mighty because he has allies!”

  “I was told to trust only him,” Falconer replied.

  “Then you were told wrong. You must trust God above all else and those whom you find thrust into your path by God’s good hand!”

  Falconer studied the man. Though he had no hint of military bearing, still he held power as natural as any Falconer had ever seen. “I shall think on your words, sir.”

  The two ladies burst back into the room, dressed in traveling clothes and each with a small bag. “We are ready!”

  Falconer struggled back to his feet. “I am to deliver you personally, ma’am. Mr. Powers’s orders.”

  “You are all done in,” Aldridge protested.

  “Daniel can see me to Harrow,” Erica Powers said. “How are we to travel?”

  “His lordship has sent his coach, but I must go with you.”

  “But you’ve not eaten a morsel,” the cook protested.

  “Pack it up, Mattie. I warrant this is a man not given to shirking his duties.” Samuel Aldridge offered Falconer his hand. “You will think upon what I have said.”

  Falconer recognized the command for what it was. “I shall ponder long and hard, sir.”

  “A man is only as strong as his allies. God’s right hand must sometimes be aided by his servants here on earth.” Aldridge followed them down the long hall to the front entrance. As he passed the foyer table, he leafed through the papers and letters awaiting him. He selected two pamphlets and slipped them into Falconer’s coat pocket. “It will do you good to read these in your spare time, sir. Now go, and God speed to all of you.”

  Falconer ate his breakfast as the carriage wound its way through mist-clad London. Mattie had thrust a second basket of food into the hands of the two ladies, but they were too distracted to eat yet. They talked endlessly, but Falconer remained silent. He ate his meal and inspected the man seated across from him. Daniel had the look of someone who knew his way around a fight. Falconer found enough comfort in Daniel’s presence to allow himself to fall into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  He awoke to their jouncing passage through a little stone village. He plucked out his vest watch and had difficulty focusing upon the numbers. He held the watch to his ear.

  “You have slept eight hours, Captain Falconer.”

  Falconer wiped his face with his hands and peered from the window. “Captain no longer, ma’am. I am merely acting as your husband’s manservant, Lady Powers.”

  “I bear no titles. And I doubt very much that a man of your bearing is anyone’s servant.”

  Falconer started to deny it, then recalled whose wife this was. “There is much truth to your words.”

  She lifted the basket lid. “I see there are still some victuals, if you are hungry.”

  “Indeed, ma’am. Thank you.”

  “Tell me of your crossing, please.”

  “Nineteen days from the Potomac River’s mouth to Portsmouth.” The biscuit crumbled in his lap as well as his mouth. “Had I not been aboard myself, I would not have dreamed it possible.”

  “And Gareth? What can you tell me of him?”

  He took in the way she twisted her kerchief in her lap. The edges of her mouth were crimped with strain, and her eyes were clouded with fatigue on a journey filled with unanswered questions. “He is a most remarkable gentleman, ma’am.”

  “I meant in regards to his health.”

  “He has been sorely tried. But I trust he shall recover.”

  “And Hannah?”

  Falconer smiled. “I fear I am held captive by your daughter.”

  “She—” Then something beyond the window caught her eye. “Are those the Harrow gates?”

  Falconer had no idea, as his previous visit had been in utter darkness. But the carriage knew its way and made the wide turning. The graveled lane ran straight and true beneath a double parade of elms. “A place of wealth and power,” he murmured.

  “And history,” Erica Powers added. “There are so many tales about this place and the people who have made their home here. The current lord of Harrow Hall is a fine man, a wool merchant and weaver from Gloucester. He is a good friend of ours, a believer and an ally in our struggle. And a supporter of Wilberforce. I understand you know Wilberforce.”

  The driveway stretched ahead, seemingly without end. Falconer craned and spotted a deer in the distance. “Only by name, ma’am. I have never laid eyes on the man.”

  Erica was so intently focused upon the empty lane ahead she may well have not heard Falconer’s answer. “The last earl of Harrow lost his titles and his land when he backed the American colonies in the war for independence,” she murmured. “Charles was his name, and we were distant relatives.” The way she twisted her handkerchief, the manner in which she craned her neck to see ahead, it was doubtful the woman heard even her own words. “The current lord acquired the house from the Crown some twelve years back . . . There!” She leaned forward. “Finally! The house! Oh hurry, driver! Please hurry!”

  Before the carriage had swung around the forecourt and halted, Erica Powers had opened the carriage door and stumbled down its steps. She ran across the gravel, calling, “Gareth! Hannah! Where are they? Where is my family?”

  Daniel leaped down from the carriage and watched the two women disappear into the great house. “I reckon they’re safe enough here,” he said to Falconer.

  “I should agree.”

  “You look better rested.” Daniel studied Falconer. “My gut tells me the major has found himself a battle-hardened ally.”

  It was rare that Falconer had to look up into the face of any man. “The major, you say?”

  “We still call him such, those who served with him in the regiment. The major doesn’t take to it, so we speak differently when we address him.”

  Falconer nodded slowly. “Gareth Powers is an uncommon man by any measure.”

  Further discussion was halted by the appearance of an older gentleman at the top of the stairs. “Here now, what’s this?” The older man wore an impeccable dark suit, the long tails of his coat dangling below his knees. In the front it fitted around his ample girth with a double row of polished silver buttons. His muttonchops were a hand’s breadth in width and added severity to the scowl. “I run a proper household here. Proper, do you hear me? Menservants are not permitted to loiter about the forecourt discussing the weather!”

  He halted on the last step but one, so that he was able to stare down his nose at the two taller men. “Your names, if you please!”

  “Daniel and Falconer, sir.” The big man answered for them both.

  “Which of you is assigned to the ailing gentleman and his daughter who arrived last night?”

  When Falconer chose to remain silent, Daniel offered, “He is, sir.”

  “And you, I gather, are the only escort the newly arrived ladies elected to bring along?”

  “That is correct, sir.”

  “A sorry state of affairs. What with my staff already stretched to the limit.”

  “We left in a bit of a rush, sir.” Daniel had retreated to parade-ground formality.

  The older man sniffed loudly. “I am Cuthbert. The lord’s chief butler. I am not someone you wish to get on the wrong side of. Is that clear enough?”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Then you will unload those bags and carry them to the guests’ rooms. Their apartments are located in the Jacobean Wing.” He swung himself about. “His lordship likes to dine early. They are expected to table at the stroke of six of the clock.”

  Daniel waited until the ponderous old man had slammed the front door to ask, “Where we
re we?”

  Falconer smiled. “Allies.”

  “Right.” Daniel did a slow turn, studying the ground with a soldier’s eye. “Looks quiet enough hereabouts.”

  “We were attacked in Georgetown Harbor. Three men. Armed with smooth bore rifles. It was a close-run thing.”

  “You think you were tracked here?”

  “My guess is, word would not have reached these parts yet. Our crossing was uncommon swift. But I’d say it’s only a matter of a week. Perhaps less.” Even so, Falconer felt a hint of trouble. There was no reason for it. He had just said it himself. But the feeling gnawed at his innards.

  “I’d best go off-load these wares and see to the family,” Daniel said. “You coming?”

  “In a minute.” Falconer felt drawn by what he could not name. “I want to have a look around.”

  “Take in the field of fire,” Daniel agreed. “Meet here in an hour?”

  “By the stables,” Falconer replied. “No need to draw the butler’s ire.”

  Chapter 17

  Serafina’s days remained a blur of work and weariness. She rose before the dawn, awakened by the clamor of the household staff coming to life. The youngest cook rose earlier still, lit the main stoves, and set a great iron vat of tea to simmer. There was always a basket of bread husks set on the table, made by slicing the previous day’s bread and leaving it on cooking pans overnight by the dimming fire, the last duty of the last cook each evening. The various maids and houseboys and gardeners came stumbling in each morning and wordlessly took a cup and a husk of toasted bread. They stood about and slurped their tea and ate the piece of bread without speaking or hardly even glancing about them. Mrs. Marcham arrived and issued terse instructions for the day. Soon enough they scattered to the morning’s first duties.

  Harrow Hall held eleven great rooms plus a large front foyer with marble fireplaces at either end. Each morning Serafina swept all the fireplaces. She then carried the ashes out to the compost heap behind the farthest barn. The fireplaces were scattered about the manor’s first and second floors, and emptying all thirty-four and bringing in fresh wood required more than two dozen trips to and from the barn. She climbed upwards of forty flights in the morning and the same number again each evening.