The nurse stared at him flabbergasted and then rushed downstairs to raise the alarm. An instant later the doctor, apprentice, and nurse together with the butler and steward were all outside on the street looking wildly around to see where Abigail had gone. They looked up at the roof and all they could see there was the chimney sweep shouting down a flue at his boy.
“Do you think she climbed up a chimney?” asked the nurse doubtfully.
“No! What woman could do that? She would hardly be able to breathe there!” exclaimed the butler. They did not think to mention the thought to Dr Grover who would have insisted that the roof be searched too. He had seen the desperate measures employed by patients attempting to escape the asylum. However, he was oblivious to the fact that a chimney sweep’s boy had been in Abigail’s room, and therefore was unaware that at that moment Abigail was rapidly crossing the roof of the Marquess’ house to leap to the neighbour’s roof. Her path had been pointed out to her by the chimney sweep on the roof.
“If thou canst leap on to the roof of the sixth house in this line, thou will be able to climb down into an empty plot on the eastern side. The gate latch is rusted and will not lock. Make thy way out onto the street and then thou art on thy own. God be with thee and aid thee whatever thy trouble may be!” said the chimney-sweep.
Abigail followed the directions he gave her, fear and desperation forcing her to disregard her precarious position and the difficulty of what she was attempting to do. Soon she had reached the house with the overgrown plot next to it and was carefully climbing down a ladder that had been placed against the wall and forgotten. She jumped down and picked her way through the weeds and bushes till she had reached the gate. Here, she paused for the first time and looked down at her clothes and hands. She was covered in soot, and all of a sudden her father’s face appeared in her mind bringing tears to her eyes.
“My wee bairn shall na’ work in the mines and sully her hands with the coal dust!” he would say as he kissed her. Yet here she was blackened from head to toe, penniless and friendless with nowhere to go. She looked around and wondered how she could go out onto the street in her present state. People would stare at her. Luckily, she caught sight of a bird bath with rainwater that had collected in it from a recent shower. She managed to wet her handkerchief and wipe her face and hands, dusting her dress off as best she could.
She then stepped out onto the street and began to walk rapidly and purposefully thinking that she would raise less attention than if she loitered and looked around at the people passing. The street was in a busy neighbourhood with grocers’ shops and newspaper sellers. The scent of freshly baked bread drifted into the street from a nearby bakery, and she was reminded of her hunger. In spite of herself, she was compelled to stop an instant and gaze at the freshly baked rolls and loafs of bread that were displayed in baskets outside the baker’s shop. The baker’s wife saw her standing there and came out to stare at her distrustfully.
“Be off, and dinna stand there! I know thy kind always waiting for a chance to get thy thieving hands on the bread! Be off I say!” she exclaimed.
Abigail looked up at her sadly and without any resentment. Then she turned and began to walk away when she heard the woman calling after her again.
“Hold! Wait there an instant!”
Abigail looked at her surprised.
“Where hast thou come from?” the baker’s wife asked.
“Far away, Ma’am, and I am sorry to so disturb you. I shall leave directly and not inconvenience you any longer,” said Abigail.
“Aye, I can tell from thy manner and thy tongue, thou art not from this city. No beggar ever spoke or looked the way thou dost, and yet I cannot understand, what hast thou done to thy dress? Didst thou fall into a coal cellar?”
“No, I was unlucky enough to be compelled to climb a chimney to escape the lunatics’ asylum!” said Abigail dryly.
The woman stared at her astounded for a moment and then burst into laughter. “Come in here, thou wench! Thou hast a story to tell me I’ll wager! I shall feed thee in return never fear …”
Abigail gladly followed her into the back of the shop and ate and drank what was placed in front of her.
“Now tell me where thou hast come from!” demanded the woman.
“It is a long and dreary story. Truth be told I fear to repeat it. I do not wish to be suspected of insanity again.”
“Then what dost thou think I can do to help thee? If thou wilt not speak, how will I aid thee?”
“I beg your pardon, Ma’am; I am grateful for your kindness in feeding me. However, I did not ask nor do I expect any further assistance. If you will permit me, I shall go on my way now.”
“Dinna be so hasty, wench! I can see thou hast been ill-used. If thou wilt not tell me anymore, that is thy choice. However, I have need for a girl who will stay here with me and aid me in my work. Wilt thou work in my shop?”
Abigail stared at her astounded. “Why would you want to employ someone you had met on the street and taken for a beggar? Someone you barely know?”
“That is none of thy business. I know who is to be trusted and who is not. Did not I tell thee, thy manner is not as of the people of this city? Be warned girl, if thou ventures out on the street again, thou shalt be set upon and perchance may suffer some misadventure. Others shall soon see what I have seen and take advantage of thee.”
Abigail was compelled to admit that this was true, and after all, she had no place to go. She accepted the woman’s offer.
Chapter 5
The Duke had reached Liverpool and searched everywhere that he could think of for Abigail. No one at any of the wayside inns had recalled seeing anyone of the description he gave. He was now growing suspicious of Tobias Harding, who seemed unconcerned.
“Is it not strange, Tobias that an unaccompanied girl should travel to Liverpool and not be noticed at any of the inns on the way there?” he asked.
“Perhaps she was not alone, Your Grace,” replied Tobias.
“Who would she travel with?”
“That I cannot say. However, I am sure she had no shortage of admirers amongst the coal miners. Someone must have assisted her.”
The Duke was silent. He was angry at the insinuation that Abigail was dishonest. However, he did not want to quarrel with Tobias.
“I shall disregard your words, Tobias, but I cannot forget them. Never speak despairingly of Abigail again. I am now convinced that she is not in Liverpool and has never come this way. I should have followed my first instinct and gone to London. She must have followed the Marquess there.”
“Your Grace, why are you so insistent on chasing that girl all over England? She is not worthy of you. Your coal mines and your home risk neglect.”
“You are right, Tobias!” said the Duke. “What was I thinking leaving the coal mines unattended? You ought to go back and see that everything runs smoothly in my absence.”
Tobias stared at him shocked, wondering if he was serious.
“Your Grace, I cannot leave you thus unattended …”
The Duke turned away his face set and cold. “I am perfectly able to take care of myself and have no need for anyone to assist me. I shall find Abigail on my own.”
Tobias turned pale with distress. However, he was well aware that the Duke would not change his mind. So taking leave, he turned his horse around and went back to Northumberland.
The Duke meanwhile took the road towards London.
He rode fast, stopping only at sunset at an inn for dinner and a night’s rest. Within a few days, he was riding into London and making his way towards the mansion he owned there. He had inherited it from his late father, and during the days when he would regularly visit his friends in London, he always stayed there. However, he had not been there for some years now, and the sight of the grey building filled him with despair. He did not want to remember the days of debauchery he had wasted there in his youth.
That night as he sat at his fireside after dinner, he tho
ught again of Abigail.
“I never wanted to return to this place, and yet for thy sake, I am compelled to, my darling. I shall find you wherever you are.”
He rang the bell for the butler and questioned him. “Has anyone visited or enquired about me in my absence?” he asked.
“The Lady Grosvenor visited Your Grace several times to ask about you …”
“Hang her!” the Duke exclaimed impatiently. “If she visits again, tell her I have still not returned. I have no wish to see her! Anyone else?”
“Just two days ago, Your Grace, it was the Marquess Ernest Claremont who visited enquiring about you.”
The Duke sat up surprised. The Marquess came looking for me? He must surely have heard about me from Abigail! That means she has visited him as I suspected, he thought.
“Where is his card?” he demanded.
The butler brought the Marquess’ card, and the Duke read his address. “I shall visit him tomorrow. Tell the grooms to have my horse ready after breakfast.”
That night, the Duke slept fitfully and impatiently. The next day, he rose early and was soon riding his horse towards the Marquess’ house. He was admitted to the house and shown to the parlour, where a few moments later, the Marquess walked in.
“I beg your pardon, Your Grace. I hope you did not wait too long?” asked the Marquess politely.
“No, thank you for the kind enquiry,” said the Duke shortly.
“I have some information I would like to share with you,” said the Marquess.
The Duke listened and realised that he was too late. Abigail had been to this house and was then turned away. He got up and began pacing back and forth.
“What did you do?” he demanded.
“The girl was obviously a lunatic. She told us she was the true daughter of the late Marquess Archibald Claremont, and that I was actually the son of a coal miner called Jeremiah. She told us that she worked at your castle but was compelled to leave after the death of the coal miner who brought her up. She then went to live with her so-called cousin, the Earl of Aldrich and worked as his manager till she had to leave him too. Hearing such a fantastical story, I was compelled to send for the doctor and have her confined in the lunatic asylum,” said the Marquess.
“So she is now in the asylum?”
“She would have been, but unfortunately she has escaped and disappeared. I felt it my duty to inform you about the lies that she is spreading concerning you. I also wanted to warn the Earl …”
“There is no need to inform the Earl, and now my dear Marquess Ernest Claremont it is with regret that I inform you, you are a great numbskull. That girl was no lunatic, and all that she said was true. Keep it all to yourself, and tell the doctor you were mistaken,” said the Duke.
The Marquess protested, but the Duke glared at him till he was quiet. “Do not fear. Abigail has no intention of bad-mouthing you or depriving you of your inheritance,” said the Duke.
A few moments later he left, watched again by Samuel Cooper who still loitered outside the Marquess’ house.
Chapter 6
Samuel Cooper, guided by loyalty and fear of the consequences of his Master’s wrath, had grown weary treading around the streets of London. “That wanton wretch!” he cried, kicking the dust, eventually walking over to a pole for a moment’s rest. He despised his fate that had landed him in this unfortunate situation and the woman who was the cause of it; because of her, he roamed streets like an indignant pursuant. It would have been easier to find a lady in a ball amongst hundreds of others than the city of London, ever growing in its population and its ability to camouflage the refugee.
As he kneeled against it, the whiff of freshly baked bread dazed him, and he could not help following the scent. Led to a small bakery, he made his way through the glass doors and aware only of his overwhelming hunger, emptied whatever coins had been ringing in his pockets and laid them out on the counter, “A loaf m–” He stopped short.
His eyes instantaneously met those of a stranger too familiar; with dread in one and victorious surprise in the other, they were both stationary. There stood before him Abigail and his way out of the master's wrath and into his favour.
“You! You foul wretch!” he eventually exclaimed, having gathered his wits. “You should have known better than to have disappeared and caused distress to those who have been so graciously merciful to you! Do you not know who it is you have outraged. The Earl of Aldrich shall not have you spared, you indignant wench! Your deception shall be rightly dealt with.”
With an adamant calmness that expressed her unwillingness to give into intimidation, Abigail replied, “It would have been an utter distress to me had I known that a man villainous enough to contrive to murder is pleased with me. I am glad you have told me otherwise. Here is your loaf, sir.”
“Your audacity shall be the end you,” Cooper scowled back. “But I have things to do far greater than wasting my words on a miserable wretch. I must report back to Sire immediately. The Duke has already made his way here, and it will be of quite a great displeasure to my Master if he is unable to reach you untimely. Beware, for your days of audacious debauchery will soon be over!”
Having rebuked her to his heart’s content, he hurriedly left the bakery, unaware of both the bread that would have possibly satisfied his forgotten hunger and the charmed look in Abigail’s eyes at having learnt that the Duke was nearer to her than she had imagined. His thoughts had been a string of frenzy and buzzed with the prospects of all that would be set right once he had proved his loyalties and his abilities to the master. To him, the only pertinent matter at the moment was the efficient delivery of the message to the Earl, and a letter would not reach him quick enough. He must ride to do it himself.
Chapter 7
With a racing heart and sweating hands, Abigail felt as if a hundred ravens and robins, swallows and starlings had made their way into her chest, and their fluttering seemed indomitable. Convinced that her feelings would suffice to congest her, she too left the bakery and began pacing on the street. Her mind swirled with thoughts that excited her, of the Duke’s search for her and his presence in her proximity, and those that alarmed her; of the possibility of being confined by the Earl or how she could let the thought of a man who might be responsible for the death of her father, excite her. Her conflated thoughts unsteadied her steps as she aimlessly wandered streets, perpetually feeling as if the air was too limited for her breath.
“Excuse me, ma’am.”
Abigail felt an obstacle at the brim of her dress, her steps suddenly obstructed. She looked down to see a scruffy little boy with whips of hair flying about and patched shorts looking up at her with expectant eyes.
“Would you care to buy one of these, madam?” He held out a hand with three corked glass bottles and presented them to her.
“This one is a cough tonic, madam, soothes for up to five years, been using it myself. And this one ma’am is an elixir that softens hearts and eases minds; I’ve seen my parents use it all the time. And here I have this hair tonic madam, makes white hair blonde again, dry hair shine again, and don’t worry if you don’t have hair – it will help them grow again.”
Abigail could not help laughing at the innocence of the child who had presented his rehearsed lines with an utterly deceptive conviction. His dramatic capabilities convinced her of his mental prowess. She kneeled down and talked to him.
“What’s your name, boy?
“Pip, ma’am,” he responded.
“And who do you work for, Pip?” she further enquired.
“My uncle, ma’am.”
“And how much does he pay you?”
“A penny a week, ma’am. Twopence if the business is good or he’s eaten well, ma’am.”
Abigail let out another chuckle, convinced that the child’s work on the street had made him a clever one. And in that moment, an idea illuminated her face.
“I’ll give ye twopence a week and a loaf of bread if ye run errands for me, my boy
.”
“But what if my uncle reports to my father? He will have my head for abandoning him,” he replied hesitantly.
“No one said anything about abandoning. Come around to the bread store at the corner of the second street once you get done from your work, Pip.”
His face lighted up, and he nodded obediently then giddied away singing, “’Tis the miracle elixir, it will do the trick, Sir.”
As the sun set over Fleet Street that evening, Abigail waited expectantly outside the shop for the same stride of the step that she had parted from in the morning. As she sat on the step, her head hung low, and her hopes were sinking with the sun.
What appeared in her sight suddenly was a pair of child’s wellingtons; its buckles falling apart and sole barely held at the seams. Pip stood there smiling eagerly with his crooked teeth and shining eyes.
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