The next morning, just before dawn, James left his salubrious overnight lodgings and headed back towards Monnington Street. Barricades sat across several of the streets, but as nobody had yet turned up to man them, James simply climbed over and went on his way. Finally, he was stood outside the church and across the road from Number 28, just as he'd promised.
Samuel and Mary had also risen early. Samuel had carefully rubbed the red stone three times around the top of a jug of water before eagerly taking it across to the carriage house with Mary to try it out on Shipton. This time he was sure it would work. Shipton lay asleep on his straw bed. They carefully propped up his head and poured sips into his mouth. There was little response from Shipton, just a few splutters but at least most of it went down his throat.
'Come on Samuel, it'll take time.' reassured Mary. 'Three times a day she said. We'll come back later P'rhaps if we give 'im some extra it'll work faster.'
Elizabeth hadn't slept. Alone in bed she had spent the night wondering what the future would hold, how she could keep plague from their door and away from her family. Now daylight was finally here she had at last fallen into a deep sleep.
James stood for an hour outside the home. He threw pebbles at the house but only Miss Pewtersmith heard them in the main bedroom upstairs. She pulled the covers over her head and went back to sleep. Finally James gave up. He was expected to report for work and if he didn't turn up they'd probably come for Elizabeth instead. Dejectedly, he set off back down the road. Head down, he didn't notice the two lost-looking kilted men on the opposite side of the road.
Annabel Collins sat with her father eating breakfast. The topic of conversation was the same as it had been for the last two weeks; her father was keen to leave the city and his only daughter was coming up with reasons why they should delay. The judge had been packed and ready to leave for days. His patience had run out. Today he announced, they would leave at noon come what may. She had two choices: leave with them or stay behind and ride out the plague with the support of his trusted servant Wooldridge. This time he wasn't going to be taken in by her pleadings, his word was final. This gave her just one last morning in which to find this charmed jewel.
Half an hour later Annabel and Wooldridge were sitting in a fashionable new Hackney Carriage heading towards Monnington Street. She had to find a way to get this stone. Wooldridge had proved useless. She would have to do it herself, she thought, though she brought him along, just in case.
Elizabeth finally awoke well after nine o' clock. Alice had been unsettled and had crawled into her bed early in the morning. Elizabeth carefully tucked her back in under the covers and tip-toed away. Then a sudden realisation gripped her. James was to have been across the road at dawn. She'd overslept. Would he still be there? She ran to the window of the small upstairs bedroom and threw open the shutters. There was no sign of him. The road was quiet except for a small carriage parked a little way further up the street. What would James think? That they'd forgotten him already, that they didn't care? That they were sick? Maybe he had never been there. Maybe plague had already struck him down, maybe looters had attacked him. The children, she'd told them to look out for him this morning. She dressed quickly and ran downstairs to find Mary and Samuel. They were in the kitchen preparing another jug of water for Shipton.
'You know we should drink this too, it'll keep us safe.' said Samuel as he rubbed the stone around the rim.
'I s'pose you're right, an' Alice an' Mum.'
'Not Miss P though. She can catch it - and she'd prob'ly look better if she did.' Samuel sniggered.
'We need to get some to Dad. He needs it most.'
'But we'd have to not tell Mum. She ain't gonna approve.'
'Approve of what?' Elizabeth stood in the doorway, hand on hip.
Samuel jumped and dropped the stone into the clay water jug. Elizabeth caught a glimpse of rose coloured light before it plopped into the water out of sight.
'What was that you had in your hand Samuel? That red thing.'
'What red thing?' Samuel shrugged.
Elizabeth frowned. She had no time for games. 'No matter. I overslept. Did either of you remember to greet your father this morning? Remember? At dawn...across the road... I told you both.'
Mary and Samuel exchanged guilty glances. In their haste to test out the stone they had completely forgotten.
'Mary? Surely you...'
Mary shook her head.
'Samuel?'
Samuel looked at his feet.
'Samuel?' His mother asked again. 'Well I guess there was no chance of you remembering.' She stomped across the kitchen. 'Oh why can't I rely on you two? Completely bloody useless the pair of you! One thing you could do for me!'
Mary and Samuel made no reply.
'And look at this kitchen! It's a bloody mess.' She picked up a wooden chair and rammed it under the table. Upstairs Alice started crying. 'Don't you care? Don't either of you God-dam care!'
The children had never heard her curse before. They stayed quiet. Alice's crying became louder. Elizabeth sat down and put her head in her hands.
Miss Pewtersmith walked into the kitchen. 'What is all the bloody racket? Can't a hard-workin' girl get her rest?' She walked up to the table and reached for the jug of water. Samuel pulled it away.
'Oi, what you bloody doin'? You'll feel the back of my hand, you will boy!' She grabbed the jug back and poured herself a drink. The children looked on anxiously as the water flowed from the jug to the cup. The stone didn't drop out.
'Cheeky li'le bastard.' mumbled Miss Pewtersmith then swigged back the water.
Alice still screamed upstairs.
Elizabeth sighed loudly and rose from the table. 'Useless, lazy....' she hissed under her breath as she passed Miss Pewtersmith.
'What? I 'eard that!' Miss Pewtersmith jumped to her feet. 'Don't you think I didn't 'ear that. You can't talk to me like that! I'm in charge 'ere. You'd better watch your step.' She waved a finger in front of Elizabeth’s face.
Elizabeth pushed the hand away. 'You're not fit to be in charge of anything. And if you ...'
Elizabeth's reply was cut short by a tap on the door. A head peeped inside. ‘I’m terribly sorry, I hope I'm not interrupting. My name is Annabel Collins.' She opened the door fully and swept boldly inside. 'I hope this isn’t a bad time.' She stood alongside a chair and waited for it to be pulled out.
Miss Pewtersmith quickly obliged. 'Oh no m’lady, not a bad time at all!'
Miss Collins tucked in the yards of flowing white skirt and sat. 'I am the daughter of Judge Collins, you may have heard of me?'
'Oh, yes m’am. Course we ‘eard of Miss Ann'bel Collins!'
'Good, good. Pray tell me, what you have heard?' she said, smiling at Miss Pewtersmith.
'Oh, well... nice things, lots o' nice things.
'Like what?'
'Well, like...like your... dad … him being … a kind judge an’ all that.'
'Kind? Well he gets called many things but I didn’t think he was very kind. Still, very nice of you, Misses...?'
'Oh Miss Pewtersmith m’lady. Miss Gertrude Pewtersmith.' She performed a small curtsey.
'And who might this be?' She smiled warmly at Elizabeth.
'Oh that’s Elizabeth, a servant m’am.'
Elizabeth nodded politely. She was suspicious of the motives of this wealthy-looking pretty young woman.
'Oh and the dear children! The poor orphans!' she raised open arms to Mary and Samuel inviting them into a hug. The children stayed where they were. 'I heard the terrible news about both of your parents being taken away to do the mayor’s dirty work. How awful! I do hope they’re not already dead!' she shook her head sadly. She turned to Miss Pewtersmith. 'Any way, I’ve come to make you an offer you can't refuse! I’ll take them off your hands, both of them! They can come to work for me. I’ll give them board and lodgings and they’ll learn a new a trade. It will be wonderful. How about that?' She beamed at Mary and Samuel.
'No, don't listen to '
er Mum,' shouted Samuel 'that man works for ‘er, she was...'
'Mum? What do you mean, Mum?'
'That’s right. He’s my son.' replied Elizabeth coldly.
'What? But... but you were...I heard you were both taken away.'
'Their father was, not me.'
Annabel Collins hesitated. She poured herself a cup of water and watched as she swirled it around in circles; there was no way she would drink it, not water. But this spoilt her plan completely. 'Well, what wonderful news.'
'Mum, she was the one...' started Samuel again.
'How lucky you’re both so well,' Miss Collins rose to her feet, talking over Samuel 'because there are so many dangers out there for children today.' She walked across the room towards them. 'You know just the other day I came across children just like you two with evil trinkets, the stuff of witchcraft and devil worship. If the bishop knew where those children where he’d have their whole family burnt at the stake!' She fixed her gaze on each of them in turn. 'Burnt to a crisp!'
'Well, Miss Collins it was very kind of you to call by and offer the children work. But as you can see we don’t need assistance.' Elizabeth opened the door.
'There is one more thing.' Annabel Collins smiled sweetly again. 'A stone. A bright red stone that belongs to me. I think your children may have taken it... by mistake of course.'
'Is that right children?' asked Elizabeth.
'By mistake? Stole you mean!' scoffed Miss Pewtersmith.
The stone was still submerged in the water jug on the table. The children looked at the floor.
'It was my grandmother’s,' continued Miss Collins 'she gave it to me on her death bed. I promised I’d look after it.' she sniffed. 'What would I say to my father if I’ve lost it?' She looked back to the children. 'And what would the Bishop say?'
They would have to hand it over. The thought of the Bishop turning up and accusing them of witchcraft was too much. Mary reached for the jug.
'Their father has it.' said Elizabeth.
'What?' snapped Miss Collins.
'Their father has it. He was taken to be a searcher. He took it with him for good luck.'
Annabel Collins' face dropped. 'You’re lying!' she screeched. 'They’ve got it. I know they have! Empty your pockets!' She grabbed Samuel and ripped his pockets inside out. Mary happily turned her pinafore pockets out too. 'Damn you! Where's your husband? How do I find him?' she screamed at Elizabeth.
'I don’t know. Where ever there’s plague I suppose.'
'Dawn.' said Miss Pewtersmith. 'He’ll be across the road from ‘ere at dawn ev’ry mornin’. I ‘eard ‘em say it m’am.'
Elizabeth scowled at Miss Pewtersmith.
Annabel Collins swept out of the kitchen and stormed back to the cab. Wooldridge was waiting inside.
'Success Miss Collins?'
'Quiet! Just be quiet! Get me home. We’ll have to come back again tomorrow morning. This is your fault Wooldridge!'
'Your father leaves today Miss.'
'Oh he’ll stay for me. I’ll see to that. You just get me home.'
Elizabeth closed the kitchen door.
Miss Pewtersmith returned to the kitchen table. She ripped a piece of bread from the loaf and shoved it in her mouth. 'Them two is gonna get us in trouble. You need to sort 'em out 'fore it's too late.' she spluttered through a mouth filled with food.
Elizabeth put her arms around Mary and Elizabeth and swept them towards the stairs. 'You two have got some explaining to do.' she whispered.
Samuel grabbed the jug from the table as Elizabeth herded them towards the main house.
Elizabeth took them to a corner of the sitting room and sat them down. The room was lit only by paper-thin streaks of sunlight that had found the cracks around the edges of the shutters. Dust rose from the unused settee as they sat. 'Now, from the beginning, I want to know what's been going on.'
Miss Pewtersmith was enjoying her breakfast again, so she was not pleased to be disturbed by another knock on the door, this time heavy enough to rattle the iron hinges. She cursed and went to see who was there. She found two kilted men stood before her.
'De ye ken i' this is where that wee bairn lives wi' our stoon?'
'What?' Miss Pewtersmith frowned and then chomped some more.
'Two wee uns, wi' a red stoon.'
'A red stone? Them bloody kids. I might have guessed it! What they been doin' now?'
'I'll tek that as yes. We'd lik tee speak wi' 'em.' Madadh MacDonald put a foot into the doorway.
Miss Pewtersmith was having none of it. She wasn't going to allow these bearded barbarians into the house. Who knows where they’d been? She raised her heel and stamped hard on Madadh's toes. 'Don't think you're coming in here with your foreign diseases!'
Madadh hopped backwards.
Miss Pewtersmith hurriedly slammed the door and bolted it shut. 'Now piss off back to where ever you came from! Go on!'
Cormag stepped back and dropped a shoulder ready to charge at the door like a battering ram.
'Och, dinne worry, Cormag.' Madadh rubbed his sore foot. 'Look' he said nodding at the carriage house 'the wee cottage o'er yonder. That'd de fine fer 'er fer noo.'
Mary and Samuel had shown their mother the stone and given her a little more detail about what they'd been up to. They stopped short of telling her how they'd hidden Shipton in the loft of the carriage house. Elizabeth eyed the stone with curiosity. She was a religious woman but not as superstitious as most. She had little time for talk of magic and sorcery. But these were desperate times and if everyone wanted the stone so badly, maybe there was something special about it. Her first instinct normally would be to try and trace the true owner and return it, but he might be dead. And even if he wasn't dead she couldn't be expected to try and track him down in the midst of all this disease. She'd keep it for now and try out its healing powers; see if it really could keep plague at bay.
No sooner had Miss Pewtersmith sat down to continue her breakfast and there was yet another sharp rap on the door. She slammed the bread back on the table and marched to the door.
'I’ve told you already, clear off! We don’t want your sorts ‘round ‘ere.'
'I am here on behalf of the Bishop. Open this door!' the latch rattled.
'Oh yeh! An’ I’m the pope. Now piss off! You ain’t comin’ in!'
'How dare you talk to me like that? I'm a man of God!'
'Is that a fact? Well ask him what the 'ell 'es playin' at, an' then sod off!'
The Reverend Singer was not impressed. He looked at the other openings to the house all boarded up. He gave the door another rattle then kicked it for good measure. 'I’ll be back. You’ll regret talking to a me like this! The Bishop will hear about you!'
A contrite Mary and Samuel entered the kitchen followed by Elizabeth. They’d been left in no doubt about the rules. Elizabeth carried Alice. The toddler had flushed cheeks and runny nose. Mary picked up a pot and began to clean it.
'You two trouble makers,' grumbled Miss Pewtersmith 'I’ve had more people after you, men in skirts, ‘ere lookin’ for you no more than two minutes ago. Talkin’ some strange bloody tongue they were. Then they came back pretendin’ to be the Bishop! Must think I'm stupid!'
Men in skirts, the Bishop. The pan slipped from Mary’s hand and clattered onto the flagstone floor. She shot an anxious glance at Samuel.
'Clumsy thing! You need to be more careful what you’re doin’ - an’ who you’re hangin’ ‘round with! I’m watchin’ you two, real close,' warned Miss Pewtersmith 'real close.'
Alice began coughing.
'What wrong with that child?' asked Miss Pewtersmith anxiously. 'Is she sick? She is, in't she? She’s bloody well sick!'
'It’s a cold. Nothing more.' Elizabeth hugged her tightly. 'Just a cold.'
'You'd better be right. If she's got plague you're out of 'ere. All o' you. Out! D'ya hear?'
'A cold. A simple cold, that's all it is.' replied Elizabeth, trying to mask her concern.
/> Annabel Collins screamed at the cab driver to speed up. She had to get home in time to sit down with her father and persuade him to stay in London for one more night, again. What excuse could she use this time? She had already feigned illness a couple of times and that wasn't likely to work again. She'd told him the horses were lame on one occasion, much to his anger when he found that they were fine. Perhaps she could tell him she had to say good bye to friends, maybe get some special provisions. She racked her brain to come up with a plausible idea. Perhaps she could tell him the truth? No, that would never work. Now the blasted cab driver was going to make her late.
'Where's he going Wooldridge? We don't live down here! Tell him for God's sake! We haven't got time for a tour!'
'This is the only way open now m'am.' the cab driver shouted back. 'They were closing off the road this morning when we passed.'
'What's he saying Wooldridge, for God's sake? Tell him to go back the way we came.' she shouted.
'He says it's closed off now Miss Collins.'
'Closed off! We came that way. Tell the idiot to go the same way we came!'
'M'am, I do believe...' the cab driver started to explain.
'Just do as your told man!' screamed Annabel Collins. 'What do you take me for? Do it!'
The cab driver shrugged, pulled his horse around and headed back in the direction from which they'd come. A few streets later they rounded a corner to be met by a barricade across the street. It was formed from wooden barrels, carts and debris. Two small bonfires pumped out black smoke either side of the road. As they neared the barricade, two men carrying flaming torches approached them, each with their mouths and noses covered by scarves.
'What's going on? Wooldridge, get them to clear the way, right now!'
'You can't come through 'ere. Road closed!' one of them shouted.
'This is Judge Collins' daughter. You'd better clear a path for us.' ordered Wooldridge.
'I don't care if it's the King of bloody Spain. No one comes through.' Another figure appeared from around the barricade, musket in hand. 'You'll have to turn around.'
'Wooldridge, Wooldridge!' Miss Collins was getting more irate 'We don't have time for this! Pay them. Get them out of the way!'
Wooldridge jumped out of the cab and pulled out a purse. 'How much?'
The two men stepped back and began debating their price. The third man armed with his musket was less impressed. He joined in, and the debate became an argument. They began to shout.
'Wooldridge just clear a path.' shouted Miss Collins.
'I don't think that would be wise Miss.' replied Wooldridge. 'If we just give them a minute …'
She climbed out of the cab and pointed at the barricade. 'Don't argue with me. Do it! Do it right now!'. She shoved him towards it.
Wooldridge looked at the men, shouting at each other, clutching torches, swords and musket. He knew this wasn't going to work but what could he do? He walked up to the barricade and began to slowly roll a barrel away. He waited for the inevitable.
'Oi! What the hell are you doin’? Get off that!'
The rifle was raised and aimed at Wooldridge. The other two men stormed straight for him. Wooldridge released the barrel and held his arms aloft. He had been seen to try, now they could get back in the cab and turn around. The handle of the sword smashed into his cheek and knocked him to the floor. A sword pointed down at his chest. Wooldridge felt for his knife but then thought better of it, he knew the odds were too heavily stacked against him.
There was a crack of reins and the cab driver did a U-turn and raced away up the road, leaving Annabel and Wooldridge behind.
'Wooldridge! Wooldridge! Stop him!' screeched Annabel.
But Wooldridge was still on the floor and the cab was gone.
It was a long way home and Annabel Collins was not used to walking. Her feet hurt, her delicate shoes rubbed her toes and her flowing dress was heavy and cumbersome. She cursed Wooldridge all the way back. His attempts at hailing another cab had failed, there were few carriages of any description on the streets now. They finally turned into the long gravel driveway that curled through the ornate gardens. The usual small army of garden staff was gone. The house was quiet. Annabel walked from room to room calling for her father. She was met by Richard, one of the kitchen staff.
'Your father asked me to pass you this note Miss.'
Annabel read it quickly then screeched again. She stamped her foot, screwed up the paper and threw it on the floor. 'He’s gone! The selfish bastard has left me here!' She pushed Richard out of her way. 'Where is he? Where’s Wooldridge.'
'Here Miss Collins.'
'This is your fault. You and that bloody barricade. I told you to hurry! You’re sacked. You hear me? Sacked! Get out!' She picked up a small candelabrum from the sideboard and hurled at him. 'Get out!'
Chapter 24