The Heir to Evercrest Hall

by Andrea M. Theobald

  “He wouldn’t dare do that to you, Aunt, because you have always been a great tenant.”

  “Well, let us just hope he brushes it off as a random fruit theft, and hopefully, time will make him forget what you look like.” Aunt Pam let out another sigh and smiled around at the table of unconvinced stares.

  Later that evening, while lying in bed, I thought about my medieval warfare tactics of hurling stones at the men’s defenseless bodies. The frightening thought that crossed my mind was that these men were hunters, who enjoyed the thrill of the chase, riding dangerously across the countryside in pursuit of a small animal; how much more the thrill for these hunters to stalk and seek retribution from the creature that had caused harm to their very own flesh?

  You are wrong, Aunt Pam. He will never forget what I look like—ever!

  Chapter Four

  During the night, a rainfall descended heavily on the countryside, putting pay to my plan to retrieve my locket in the covert guise of darkness. The keepsake was a significant reminder of my mother, and if I never found it again, it would not only be me who would be devastated, but also my mother’s only sister, Pamela.

  I could not sleep. I imagined the rain washing the locket down the hill and into the river. So much was my tiredness that I struggled to keep awake at Father Davidson’s sermon the following morning. At the conclusion of the service, however, it was what Father Davidson broadcasted that jolted me fully awake. He had an open invitation to all the unmarried girls, between the ages of sixteen and twenty-one, to congregate at the church at approximately seven o’clock that evening. He also expressed that we invite other young maidens, who did not attend the church, to also come along. The more, the merrier, he had jested to a noisy audience.

  Father Davidson was mobbed by the crowds as he tried to leave the pulpit. He said at present he could not divulge further, leaving open a gaping speculation of what the meeting was about. Families descended the church steps, others lingered in the foyer, hoping for a personal chat with Father Davidson. He had nearly kept his resolve not to divulge until one of the unmarried spinsters demanded indignantly, “What reason is this that they have to be of a certain age? Are you looking for a bride, Father?”

  “No, not at all, Miss Grey,” he replied, his eyes studying her sagging jowls. He stooped and whispered into her right ear, and I being able to lip-read translated him saying, “It is a request from the Davenport family. Please, Miss Grey, you mustn’t say a thing.”

  It wasn’t long before the Davenport request spread like wildfire, thanks to the old spinster.

  “They are looking for a bride for the son.”

  “Yes, he is of age. He must be going beneath himself in wanting a commoner.”

  “It is ‘cos he’s going off his head, why none of his own people desire to look after him in the future.”

  “Who cares if he’s like that, all of us agree that he is wealthy and handsome.” To which many of the girls agreed heartedly.

  “They could be looking for maids.”

  “They have enough staff! They never advertise at the big house. People wait in line to get work there all the time.”

  “It is like a fairy tale story,” said one young female dreamily.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I know the real reason.” This came from Vera.

  “Don’t you dare say a thing,” I said with a snarl under my breath.

  Vera looked at the observers waiting for her answer. “The reason being is that they want to choose a choir girl. There is no other better choice than myself.” Vera received hostile glances while I, much to Vera’s disgust, laughed heartedly, but more out of relief than joviality.

  “Now, now, come along, girls.” Aunt Pam shuttled Vera and I along like an impatient mother hen with her chicks; her expression was anything but pleasure.

  We returned to the cottage to find the group of men already waiting about the table. There were my cousins and Vera’s brothers, Billy, Charlie, and the twelve-year-old twins, John and James.

  Trevor, being the official male head of the house, cried out, “Hang about! Where are you lasses heading off to?”

  Aunt Pam answered, “We won’t be too long. Now get some food in you before it all shrivels up.” She pointed to the stew pot on the range.

  “The ladies must be going off to discuss what to wear for the female-only church service,” said Frankie.

  “That’s not fair, eh, boys! They get to have a double helping of port. At least one of them will enjoy the extra drop,” remarked Billy, side-glancing at his sister, Vera.

  “Maybe Father Davidson has broken his vow,” said Trevor. “The old fellow can’t handle all this virgin purity about.”

  “He’ll be surprised how many aren’t,” said Billy.

  “And how does my big brother know that?” asked Charlie.

  “It was Charlie who defiled them all!” There was a roar of laughter.

  As soon as we passed into the bedroom, leaving the male banter behind the door, my aunt spoke above a whisper. “You know what this invitation to the church is about, don’t you, girls? It’s because of what happened yesterday.”

  “Oh, I forgot about that,” said Vera. “Oh well, we’ll just not go then.”

  “No!” Aunt Pam nearly raised her voice. “This can’t be avoided. If neither of you attend, you will both raise questions to others who know you.”

  “I see.” Vera slowly turned her head to meet my gaze. She looked how I felt—fearful.

  “Vera will not be identified because she and Jenny were not close enough. But me, Aunt, I’ll definitely stand out.”

  “You could pretend to be sick,” said Vera.

  “That won’t work,” said Aunt Pam. “Those who have planned this gathering under false pretenses will be informed who is missing, and they’ll especially keep an eye out on this cottage until you do appear. Whatever happens, none of our boys must know that you were part of this.”

  “She could run away,” suggested Vera.

  “No, the truth will get out, and people will point the finger and accuse us of being thieves. We need to do something, we need…” Aunt Pam clicked her fingers and thumbs while walking about the beds with eyes upward as if waiting for divine intervention. “…ah-ha!”

  “What is it, Aunt?”

  “We need a disguise.”

  “Like the ones the men and women wear at those fancy balls,” Vera said excitedly. “Why Marie could look mysterious and wear a veil, and everyone will think she wants to be his bride.”

  “Only if you wear a chaff sack over your head,” I snapped, which made Vera pout her lips.

  “This is the plan. If you kept your head bowed, they wouldn’t take any notice of your face because…well, because you’ll have different hair,” said Aunt with a conspiratorial smile.

  “Oh, so you will give me one of those boyish haircuts like you used to do when I had lice.”

  “No, dear, let’s just leave this up to me. First, I am going to need a pair of scissors. You both have your supper first before the food disappears. In the meantime, I shall put my wonderful plan into fruition.”

  »»•««

  It was nearing seven o’clock. I watched nervously from the window as Vera’s brother, Billy, returned from a hasty trip home, and helped Jenny down from the cart. Both girls were dressed up in their best dresses. Jenny looked rather becoming with her long blonde hair neatly pinned up. Vera, on the other hand, was as plain as a chaff sack.

  “Now, young ladies, you may come in,” Aunt Pam said as she opened the door to allow the girls into the bedroom. As soon as they entered, their mouths gaped open.

  “Oh my, your hair!” exclaimed Jenny.

  “How did you do that?” Vera asked, looking across at Aunt Pam who winked and double tapped the side of her nose.

  “I might be a plain old cook, but it is amazing what ingredients one can use for a disguise.”

  “But the hair, it is so life-like,” said Jenny, circling me slowly, her l
arge eyes studying the red flowing hair that rested halfway down my back where my old hair used to lie.

  Aunt Pam replied, “It is real hair, but I don’t think the true owner will mind too much.”

  The scarf about my head was secured by a single knot at the base of my neck, giving me the look of a gypsy girl. Without this, one would be able to see my original hair coiled up and pinned flat. This would not have been possible without a large sacrifice to my own locks—its normal length had been reduced by half, as it was impossible to pile all of it underneath the fabric without making my head look oversized. Yet, it was a sacrifice worth it, if it meant we could beguile those from the big house; people who would be on their way to the church now.

  Aunt had also created two separate half-inch thick strands of the red hair and pinned the pieces in place at each side of my face like tendrils. With that done we waited as Aunt Pam distracted the men outside, so we could exit without being seen.

  Twenty minutes before seven o’clock, there already stood a mass of girls in the church grounds, but we remained far away from everyone so no one would question my choice of hairstyle. Father Davidson, having seen the crowd, quickly came over to unlock the church’s front door, nearly getting bowled over as the excited females stampeded for the best seats at the front.

  Just like clockwork, there was the sound of wheel movement rolling to a halt outside. The low hum of voices increased to a frenzy from the mass of seated girls, frustrated that they could not exactly climb out of their seats to peek outside.

  Father Davidson futilely cried, “Girls, girls! Please, do keep quiet!”

  One could have heard a pin drop as the three official-looking men who wore white wigs entered into the realms of holy ground. The oldest of the men indicated to the two younger ones, who looked like twin brothers, to stand at either side of the exit. He marched with head held high to the front of the church to join Father Davidson at the pulpit. Without so much as a word to the churchman, he turned to face the wide eyes, announcing judiciously, “Rise for Mister Davenport.” As bid, the house rose eagerly.

  At the very back row stood us girls, all deliberately positioned on the seats as far from the central aisle as the church building allowed. I took brief glimpses up between staring at the floor, listening with trembling to the marching footsteps that echoed down the aisle. The three of the four young men—all of them fully clothed this time—glanced impressively about at the group of females, except for his lordship, who strode gallantly ahead like a king into his royal court and sporting a recent battle wound—a large bruise to his left temple.

  Mounting the flight of steps and turning to face the dress-wearing church flock, flanked by the good Father and the haughty wig-wearer, Mister Albert Davenport flapped his hands to indicate for all to be seated. Meanwhile, his colleagues, his three equals, chose to stand on the floor level below and look on with self-importance at the intensity of admiring gazes not just directed at Davenport.

  I knew it would be difficult for Davenport to identify faces accurately at the back of the church. For a time he scanned each row to the delight of many who hoped he would fall in love with them. Of course in the back, we three all sat terrified, so when his scan went along our row, he hesitated, staring directly at us for an uncomfortable length of time, and forcing me to bow my head and look at my white knuckles.

  Hopefully, he gazed at the blonde beauty at my side.

  I looked up and saw him whispering something to a footman. I immediately thought we had been discovered. In turn the footman, after some vigorous nodding, straightened his back and looked beyond, projecting his voice over all. “Ladies with dark hair remain seated. The rest of you may leave.”

  There was a combination of ahs, ohs, and aw whats, as the unwanted, indignant ladies upped themselves, except for the two of us who hurried out to the aisle from the back row. When I briefly glanced at the dais, I saw Davenport appeared to be staring straight at us. It was hard to tell if he recognized me; I just hoped it was the blonde leading the way who he admired.

  Jenny and I did not speak until we passed between the two white-wigged footmen at the doorway and were safely out of earshot.

  “Your aunt is amazing!” Jenny beamed a smile. “She must be one of those seers who can read people’s fortunes. Just as she must have imagined, he only wants those with dark hair, because he wants to find you!”

  “Vera can tell us whatever happens afterward,” I said, rushing toward the exit gate. There parked directly before us was the gleaming carriage with its four matching dark horses, and a driver sitting patiently with them. It was hard not to notice the familiar door image of an eagle embracing a cross-bearing shield. This could have been the very same vehicle Alby had looked down on me those many years ago.

  “Anyone would think that we had committed a serious crime. It was only a few apples and berries, or is there a new law which means one gets punished for fruit pinching?” complained Jenny.

  I cleared my throat, about to give Jenny the true reason, when the masses of non-brunettes flowed down the church steps in a cacophony of disgruntlement.

  “’e prefers ‘is dark-‘aired woman.”

  “Well, they go for women who look like their mothers.”

  “He didn’t seem happy.”

  “Well, whatever it ‘tis, I don’t be thinkin’ ‘e be looking for a wife.”

  Jenny interrupted the discourse of woe with a whisper, “Did you see the massive size of that bruise on his face? You wouldn’t have had something to do with it, would you?” She looked at me with squinted eyes.

  I shrugged, looking away.

  “Ah-huh!” Jenny’s face lit up into a naughty smirk. “It is not the fruit stealing, is it? You, Miss Marie, assaulted the man, and now you are in deep trouble!”

  “Shush, don’t tell my aunt. I didn’t want to upset her further by telling her exactly what happened.”

  “You can tell me all you did to the man. I shall keep it secret, I promise. Did he try to have his way with you?”

  “No. I didn’t mean to do that to him. It was an accident.”

  Jenny looked askance. “You can’t fool me, Maria. That bruise you gave him was no accident.”

  We hurried to the cottage. Aunt Pam had succeeded in keeping my cousins, and all Vera’s brothers—all of whom waited for the outcome of the Davenport visit—entertained with a game of cards at the dinner table. Instead of entering the house, she shuttled us off to our secretly planned meeting place—the washhouse at the side of the cottage. It had a little window that was at right angles to the lane, but one could still view who entered the road gate if they strained their necks to look out. The aspect directly opposite was of the barn, where Big Red was safely hidden away. Only Billy’s horse and cart was parked up in the yard.

  “I gather it was a success?” inquired Aunt Pam. Her hands were clasped in prayer.

  “Just like you thought, Mrs. Broughton,” said Jenny, “they are in search of brunettes. I never thought I’d ever say this, but I can’t wait ‘til Vera returns.”

  My aunt, with a self-satisfactory nod, turned to me. “Well, miss, we will start by getting rid of that mop.” She untied the scarf from the back of my neck, revealing the mass of hairpins that had attached the horsehair to the compressed spiral of my remaining hair; she unpinned the locks at the back. “So, how many girls were there?”

  “I reckon there were a hundred altogether, and not all of them were unmarried. I am sure that Fredrickson girl said ‘I do’ last year,” said Jenny.

  “I couldn’t blame her for wanting to change husbands,” Aunt Pam muttered through the group of hairpins in the corner of her mouth. “He’s nothing but a drunkard.”

  The unclipped horse hair was discarded into the washtub, and now that all the back mass was removed, Aunt twirled me about to remove each hairpiece on either side of my face.

  She and Jenny looked at me in horror and cried, “Where is it?”

  My aunt looked under the scarf she
had draped over the washtub to check in case the other hairpiece had come off inside it. Nothing. I suddenly felt sick as we all scoured the dirt floor for the lost strand.

  “Where did it fall off?” I cried.

  “Jenny, did you notice if it was still on her when you arrived back?”

  “I can’t remember.”

  “Dear Lord!” Aunt Pam spent some time holding her palms against her face. “I need you to walk the path carefully back over where you both traveled. Hopefully, it fell off nearby.”

  Jenny nodded.

  “If anyone asks what you are looking for, say you lost some money.”

  Vera and Jenny arrived back sooner than expected. Aunt Pam did not have to enquire after an answer—the wan expressions on the girls was enough of a clue that the hairpiece hadn’t been found by them, but it had been.

  Avoiding a cottage full of eager-to-hear-what-happened men, we continued our meeting in the dark dankness of the washhouse and listened with fear to Vera’s frantic account. “One of the footmen picked up the hair on the step and showed it to his lordship.” At that point, Aunt and I gasped and clasped our hands against our cheeks. “He snatched it out of the servant’s hand with a look that would have scared the tail off the devil.”

  Solemn silence prevailed amongst us until Frankie’s angry voice rang from somewhere outside. “What the hell happened to you?”

  We all crammed in square formation at the small window to look out toward the barn. Frankie led Big Red out into the yard, and one could see the horse’s tail had noticeably been hacked off to half its length. To my horror, there came the sound of trotting hoofs and wheels. Big Red raised his big head high and whinnied out a loud hello to the team of four horses approaching. The timing couldn’t have come at a worst time, for it was Davenport and company returning home from the church. To add to my fear, there was a loud shout from within the carriage, and instantly the vehicle’s wheels groaned to a halt.