Authors: Julia Tagan
“My mother died giving birth to my younger brother. But you must carry on. Life is not meant to be easy.”
She shook her head slowly, in disbelief. “There are varying degrees of easy. Losing a mother, yes, we're even on that point. But have you gone for days slogging through the mud in the hopes of finding a warm bed and supper? I remember quite clearly what it's like to not eat for a couple of days, the way the hunger climbs from your stomach up your throat until even your jaw aches.”
She had him there. He only missed a meal by accident, when he was absorbed in his work. And any cravings were satisfied immediately.
“My lord, I'd like to thank my father for allowing me to live with the duke and duchess. It's the least I can do.”
He almost suggested she write a letter instead, but stopped himself. What if he were given the opportunity to talk to his father, or his brother, again? What would he say?
He understood her desire to make amends, and her honesty cut him to the core.
“Please, my lord.”
Sounds of merriment spilled out of the barn.
Perhaps they could reach an agreement. “I will allow it, on two conditions.”
“My lord?”
“My former nursemaid, Miss Entwhistle, shall act as chaperone. She's here with me now and will accompany you to ensure you meet the standards of respectability. Two: You'll stay with her at all times, and be back in London by next week. I will tell the duchess I allowed you to visit family in Birmingham, and leave it at that. No mention of the theater.”
“I suppose I can agree.”
“Very well, I'll make the introductions.”
Eager to break the unexpected connection between them, William headed to the carriage while she returned to the barn. Miss Farley's voice rang out.
“My lord, you might want to come quick.”
“One moment, I must see to Miss Entwhistle first.”
“That's what I mean.”
William caught up with Miss Farley inside the barn. She pointed in the direction of several bales of hay, where Miss Entwhistle stood wearing a long purple scarf and swaying side to side, singing a colorful ditty at the top of her lungs. The rest of the troupe had gathered around her, clapping and singing along.
“I think I'll have no problems with Miss Entwhistle at all, my lord,” said Miss Farley. “In fact, it appears she'll be able to teach me a few things.”
* * * *
It took a half-hour for William to settle Miss Entwhistle down, aided by a large mug of ale handed to him by the old man.
No wonder Jasper had been so surprised at William's request. Their former nursemaid had gone quite mad with old age. As a chaperone to a young woman with dangerous proclivities, Miss Entwhistle appeared to be an unfortunate choice.
One bright spot shone through all this nonsense. Urswick, the apothecary working on the same cure, was located somewhere in Birmingham. In his letter, the man had written that if they joined up and collaborated, a better treatment to the ague was possibly in sight. For now, William would put up with this gang of miscreants in order to put himself one step closer to saving his sister.
“Pack your things, Miss Farley, we must be off.” William gently withdrew the mug of ale from Miss Entwhistle's hands.
“I'm not going anywhere, my lord,” Miss Farley said. “I told you already, I leave for Birmingham at dawn.”
“I understand, and I won't go back on our agreement.” The other players watched him closely. If this was going to be the least bit tolerable, William had to make it clear he was in charge. “The rest of the players can go by wagon, which will take a couple of days. You, Miss Entwhistle, and I will take my carriage, which will get us to Birmingham much faster. According to my calculations, we should arrive by late tomorrow evening. Once there, I will arrange for a proper chaperone for you during your brief stay as well as your return to London.”
“You want to go with us to Birmingham?” She raised a suspicious brow.
“It so happens I have business to attend to in the vicinity.”
“Very well, my lord.” Her tone, for once, was suitably differential. “But then where are we going now? It's getting dark.”
“We'll find lodgings at the inn in town.”
“No sir, I'm afraid not.” The older man, the one they called Adam, spoke.
“What do you mean? I passed two or three establishments on my way through town this afternoon.”
“Aye, my lord. But it's the fair. There's not a room left. I heard the innkeeper saying so this morning. Your timing's off.”
William gave him a sharp look. “Of course. The fair, I should have known. Another excuse to dance around and be merry.”
Miss Entwhistle began doing some kind of a jig and whistling.
“I'll take care of Miss Entwhistle.” Miss Farley took the woman's hands in her own. “You'll come with me, ma'am, and we'll bed down in the cottage with Mrs. Kembler.”
Miss Entwhistle gave her a girlish smile. “I'd like that.”
“And where will I sleep?” asked William, to no one in particular.
“You can sleep with us in the barn, my lord,” offered the young boy. “The hayloft's quite cozy.”
“The hayloft? Goodness, no.” William couldn't imagine anything more awful. And scratchy.
“When a traveling company moves from town to town, we bed down wherever we're offered.” Miss Farley's look dared him to complain.
“That's right,” the boy added. “I've slept in a butcher's shop and in a cowshed. Preferred the cowshed, to be honest. Less blood.”
“Right.” There was no point in going back to the village, dragging Miss Entwhistle and Harriet with him, on the unlikely chance two rooms were available. He'd be sleeping in the barn.
William stabled his horse and carriage in the barn and the group shared a simple dinner. After, the men allowed him the most private corner of the hayloft and the softest quilts, and he was grateful. He found himself lulled to sleep by the sounds of the horses below, the quiet snores of the man named Toby and the sweet smell of hay.
Sometime after midnight, a strange noise woke him. He wasn't sure where he was at first, and could barely make out the shapes of the other men in the darkness. He heard a tapping noise that sounded like rain. But something was off. The acrid smell of smoke hit his nostrils and the whinnies of the horses brought him fully to his senses.
The barn was on fire.
Chapter 6
Harriet woke to the sound of yelling, followed by a loud crash. For a moment, she was back in the duchess's residence in London, with Marianne throwing another of her tantrums. Then Miss Entwhistle and Mrs. Kembler popped up in bed beside her. No. She was in Adam's cottage in Chipping Norton. And something was terribly wrong.
She leaped out of bed, telling the two older women to stay put, but had barely made it across the room when the door to the bedroom flung open. A figure barreled into her.
“Where's Harriet?” cried a familiar voice.
Harriet pushed herself away from him and stared. “Freddie?”
Her brother was unrecognizable, no longer a floppy-haired, lanky boy. Before her stood a man, taller than she by several inches and covered in sweat. He was panting hard and one sleeve of his shirt was in tatters.
“Harriet, thank God. You've got to get out, there's a terrible fire.”
Harriet had a dozen questions, but there was no time to even embrace him. Instead, she bundled up the two older women and herded them out the door of the cottage. Freddie followed behind.
Outside, flames engulfed half of the barn. The heat was intense and a dry wind had already whipped the fire into a frenzy. Flames licked up into the night sky as thick smoke roiled out of every crevice of the ramshackle structure. Adam and Lord Abingdon and the others were in terrible danger. Her heart pounded wildly.
“Go to the far side of the street and wait there,” Freddie instructed, then took off running toward the inferno.
“But Freddie, wait, where are you going?”
He disappeared out of sight in a flash, and the roar of the inferno drowned out Harriet's cries.
She gripped the women's hands and led them through the front yard of the house and across the street. “Stay here, in the grass. If the fire overcomes the cottage, head to town, staying near the river.”
Mrs. Kembler nodded her head and drew Miss Entwhistle to her. “Don't go back there,” she pleaded.
“I won't be long, I promise.”
Harriet dashed across the road. She wondered if she could get word to the fire brigade, or if there even was a fire brigade in the village.
Dark figures silhouetted by the fire raced back and forth between the barn and the well. Harriet made out the boy Martin's small shape, and Adam's stooped one. She ran to the well and dropped a bucket, heaved it up and dropped another.
“What are you doing here?” Toby appeared, panting heavily. He braced his hands against his knees to catch his breath.
“You need help. The other women are safe.”
Toby grunted, heaved the buckets up and ran back to the barn.
“Where is Lord Abingdon?”
Her question went unanswered. She imagined him, asleep in the hayloft as the flames crept up. The smoke was intense. If he didn't make it out, if he perished in the flames, it would be her fault. He'd come after her to save her reputation and she'd led him to a terrible end. The thought was unbearable.
Harriet grabbed any vessel she could find, a small barrel, a watering can, a pail, and filled each with water, then did the same with the empty buckets the men brought back. She wore only her thin nightgown, and was soon drenched with water and slick with sweat, but she didn't care. She had to save Lord Abingdon or Marianne and the duchess would never forgive her. Nor would she forgive herself.
Very slowly at first, one side of the barn began to collapse. Harriet screamed out a warning, but she was too far away for it to be heard. The building fell slowly, turning in upon itself, like a cake taken too soon out of the oven. Embers flew up into the inky darkness.
“It's all right.”
It was Lord Abingdon. Without thinking, Harriet threw herself into his arms. She held him tightly, breathing in the scent of smoke and hay. “You made it out.”
Lord Abingdon pulled out of her embrace and stared down at her. Her wet nightgown clung to her body.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “My lord, I'm so sorry. Are you hurt? Is everyone else safe?”
“Yes. We're fine. We even saved the horses.”
Freddie ran up. “The fire brigade is here!”
Harriet held Freddie's face between her two hands, then hugged him to her. Her knees almost gave way from relief. The men were safe, and her brother was by her side. “Freddie, what on earth are you doing here?”
He gently pulled out of her reach. “No time to explain now, we've got to keep at it if we're going to keep the cottage safe. This wind could prove hazardous.”
The two men took off running toward the clanging fire wagon. Within moments, dozens of people clambered around, shouting out instructions. Harriet retreated across the street to where Miss Entwhistle and Mrs. Kembler trembled in the grass. For several minutes chaos ensued, until Lord Abingdon took charge and pandemonium was replaced by order. Even dressed in a pair of breeches and a nightshirt, with no outward sign of his rank, he held a natural command over the rest of the men, with not a movement nor a word wasted.
“Everyone made it out, they escaped.” Harriet held the two women close as a miraculous rain began to fall.
* * * *
By the time the sun rose, the barn was a smoldering heap surrounded by ankle-deep mud. The rain had arrived in time to extinguish the worst of the flames. A lucky turn of events, as the members of the fire brigade appeared to be quite drunk from the night's earlier festivities.
Once the job was finished, the brigade and the rest of the townspeople took their leave. In the tepid light of a cloudy dawn, the Farley Players rummaged around the ruins to see if there was anything to be saved. Harriet's valise had been already packed on Lord Abingdon's carriage and she'd hoped she might be able to salvage it. But the carriage itself was burned to a crisp, as was the company's wagon, costumes, backdrops, props and sets. All turned to ash. The only thing she had left, besides her muslin gown, was her father's book of sonnets, which she'd been reading in bed before she fell asleep.
For now, she wore one of Adam's old overcoats, which Lord Abingdon had placed over her shoulders at some point during the night, covering up her flimsy nightgown.
She looked across the ruin. “At least the cottage was saved.”
“Aye, and the horses and livestock are fine.” Adam put his hands on his lower back and stretched. “And we're safe, which is the most important thing.”
“It was close,” said Toby. “If Freddie hadn't shown up, I don't know what we'd have done.”
“Where is Freddie?” asked Harriet.
“Last I saw, he was going into the cottage.” Toby nodded in the general direction.
Harriet turned away from the rubble. In the moment of crisis, she hadn't had time to think, never mind speak for very long with her brother. She entered the cottage, lured by the smell of hot bacon.
“Harriet, my love, look what the neighbors brought us. A virtual feast.” Freddie stood at the stove, one arm bandaged up and the other holding a spatula, which he used to efficiently flip over some eggs. Arrayed on the table were rashers of bacon and several loaves of bread.
A lightness filled her, and she shook her head, laughing. Even when they were younger, her brother was always good in a crisis. With his quick smile and easy charm, he never failed to make the best of a terrible situation.
Harriet rushed over and hugged her brother.
“Careful now, I'm standing over hot grease.” He gave her a quick peck on the top of her head.
“Are you all right?” Harriet gently touched his arm.
“Nothing serious, the man with the fancy accent wrapped it up for me and said it should be fine.”
“Where is the man with the fancy accent now?”
“Putting little Martin to bed. The boy was barely standing. Who is he, by the way?”
“Someone from London, it's not important.” Harriet gave a little leap of excitement and kissed her brother again. “How wonderful to see you. Thank God you arrived. What are you doing here? And what on earth happened between you and Father?”
Freddie placed the eggs on a platter and poured tea for himself and Harriet into two chipped mugs. “Take a breath before you start in on me. Come sit down.”
Harriet took a seat across from him at the long wooden table. “Is it true Father may be sent to prison?”
He looked away from her and began cutting a loaf of bread into slices. “You ask a lot of questions, like you did as a child.”
“It's been six years, Freddie, a lot has happened.”
“It has.” He gave her a wry smile. “I've missed you. But before I get all maudlin at seeing you again, I'll tell you the news. I'm afraid Father has indeed placed himself in a precarious position. I don't see any hope for him. He won't listen to a thing I say.”
“Adam said you'd had a row.”
“Yes. I told him I was through with the Farley Players. The company was being mismanaged. I asked him to make me a manager or I'd leave. Father didn't seem to care, he only wanted to drink.”
“I don't remember Father being like that, not at all.” Harriet wracked her brain for a memory, any memory of her father where he was out of control. Nothing came to her.
“He was quite bad right after Mother died. You were too young to remember. He'd lash out, hit people.”
“He hit you?”
A dark look crossed Freddie's face. “It was a long time ago. I'm too big for him to hit me now, but he's made promises he can't keep.” He sighed, and the resignation in his breath made her heart break. “I've tried everything to get him straight. I only stopped here at Chipping Norton on my way to London, to see if I can find work there. I'm sorry, Harry, but I'm done with the Farley Players. I'm done with Father.”
“Don't say that.”
“There are few people left who'll put up with him.”
He was right. Yesterday, she'd barely been able to convince the others to help. Now, between the fire destroying everything and Freddie's rift with her father, she was farther from Birmingham than when she'd begun.
“I was hoping to see Father. I thought I could help. You see, I've persuaded everyone here to join me and talk some sense into him. Or I had, until the fire. If you hadn't come, I don't know what would have happened. You saved us.”
“I stopped by hoping to charm Adam for a place to sleep. When I realized the barn was burning, I ran in to make sure there were no animals inside, and came upon not only four horses, but half a dozen sleeping men.”
“As one of those sleeping men, I must thank you.” Lord Abingdon stood in the doorway to the bedroom. He looked disheveled and exhausted, yet his tousled hair and heavy-lidded eyes made him seem even more handsome than ever. Harriet couldn't stop staring.
Freddie stood and held out his good hand. “I don't think we've been formally introduced. I'm Freddie Farley, Harriet's brother. Thanks for taking a look at my arm.”
Harriet couldn't bear watching her brother make such a social blunder. “He's an earl.”
“What?”
“Lord Abingdon, my brother Freddie Farley.”
Freddie did a double take, followed by a bow. “My lord.”
“For God's sake, after everything we went through last night, let's do without the formalities,” huffed Lord Abingdon. At least until I've had a cup of tea.”
Harriet poured him one. He was covered in soot and his shoulders slumped with fatigue. She wet a cloth with water and handed it to him as he sat at the rough wooden table. “To get the worst of the grime off you.”
“Thank you.” He wiped his face and hands, then took a sip of tea. “Do we have any idea as to how the fire began?”
“There was a wind last night, perhaps an ember drifted over from the bonfires in town,” offered Harriet.
“That's as good an explanation as any,” said Freddie. “I hate to ask this question, but was the Farley Players wagon in the barn?”
“Yes. Everything was in there. Including his lordship's carriage.”
“And all my belongings.” Lord Abingdon stared into his cup.
The man didn't have a penny to his name here in Chipping Norton. Harriet bit her lip, not knowing quite what to say. She should apologize for dragging him out here after her, but she hadn't asked him to do so. Thanking him for his help in putting out the fire would be a start, but she was overcome by a strange shyness and reluctant to speak up.
The door to the cottage opened and Adam and the rest of the troupe appeared, looking haggard. She got up, guided Adam to a seat at the table, and poured him some tea. No wonder her father was drinking himself to death. Running the company was a difficult job. And now, with everything lost, her father would fall deeper into despair.
The right thing to do would be to return to London with Lord Abingdon and let the Farley Players disband. Her brother had mentioned he was headed to London, which would mean they could get to know each other again, this time as adults. She'd have family nearby for the first time.
But their father was still at risk.
The words of the sonnet echoed in her mind. He had done what he believed was right, and she couldn't shake the idea she owed him for ever doubting his intentions. If anything, she was even more determined.
“We must go to Birmingham,” she announced.
“But how?” asked Freddie. “There's nothing left. Honestly, Harry, you can't be serious.”
“I agree with Freddie,” Lord Abingdon said. “We should return to London.”
“I refuse to give up.” Harriet took in the tired, worn faces of her friends. “I have an idea. If you'll trust me, I promise I'll do everything I can to put this right.”
“Yes!” Miss Entwhistle raised her hands in the air.
Lord Abingdon gave her a sharp look and she dropped them to her sides.
“Most of us have lost everything,” Harriet said. “Which means we have nothing more to lose. I know I don't. Freddie, please come with me. I'll need your help.”