Shattered Dreams Page 7

  Even through the gloom he could see the tall, dark outline of the building on the horizon, and wondered how she was. He hated to think of her being in such a desolate hovel, even for one night, especially while the Dandridges’ were asleep comfortably in their nice, warm beds; beds he himself had provided.

  He had already discussed what had happened with Barnaby. They had agreed that first thing tomorrow morning, they were going to pay a visit to the poor house, and would not leave without Tilly.

  When he did turn around, he eyed the bed with keen disinterest. It was futile to try to get any more sleep; his desperate need for a brandy was more than he could ignore. He snatched up his breeches and made his way to the door.

  He quietly made his way downstairs, but didn’t bother to take a candle with him. On the day he had moved in several months ago, he had learned the layout of the house until he knew it like the back of his hand, and could traverse the hallways with his eyes closed. It held him in good stead tonight, because he was able to pour himself a brandy, and take a seat before the now cold fire in total darkness.

  Guilt weighed heavily upon his shoulders as he slumped into the chair. He took a deep slug of the brandy and sighed, but even the shadows reminded him of her.

  It was then that he realised that he didn’t want her back so she could stay in the servants’ quarters. As far as he was concerned, she wasn’t a servant, or even a housekeeper, it was as simple as that. Something deep inside him balked at the thought that she should wait on him hand and foot. It didn’t seem right to him that someone so beautiful, so gentle and innocent, should spend her days mired knee deep in cooking, cleaning and running a household; even a relatively quiet one like his.

  When he did get her out of the poor house, he had to ensure that she remained at the Rectory as a guest. He just had no idea how to convince her of that while he tried to keep her out of his investigation. If he had her stay upstairs, Star Elite or not, her reputation would be in ruins because she was a beautiful, single female, and he was an eligible bachelor.

  Strangely, the thought of having to marry her to protect her reputation was more intriguing than repulsive. In some ways, he rather hoped that it really would come to that in order to keep her safe, because it would sort out a heck of a lot of his current problems in a very short space of time.

  A sudden creek outside the door drew his attention. He remained perfectly still as he listened carefully to the sound of someone creeping around, and knew that Dandridge was up and about. The very faint thud of the servants’ door being closed was all he needed to hear.

  Harry silently put his glass down on the rug beside him and crept into the hallway.

  Unsurprisingly, the door to his study was slightly ajar.

  Was Dandridge after the Rectory seal, so that he could send yet more forged letters out in his name? Or was the devious butler after the contents of the safe?

  From his hiding place next to the door, Harry watched Dandridge begin to rifle quietly through the contents of his desk drawer before he turned his attention to the shelves that lined the wall. When nothing of use was found, Dandridge turned his attention to the safe, which contained the truly valuable paperwork and, of course, the seal.

  Although Dandridge didn’t know it, Harry had taken a moment to change the code on the safe as soon as he had moved in, and took the added precaution of changing it each week. Harry was the only person who knew what the code was and, although he knew the contents of the safe were out of Dandridge’s clutches, it irked him greatly to see the subterfuge and deceit of the man he had in his employ.

  While he watched Dandridge fiddle with the lock on the safe, he thought over the description of the Bolsworthy woman who had recommended the fake job to Tilly. It didn’t seem feasible that she was moving amongst aristocracy, yet working with the Dandridges’ at the same time. However, Harry knew that it was foolish to discount any possibility without having all of the facts. No matter how implausible things seemed at first, nothing was impossible and there was nothing in life as strange, and unpredictable, as people.

  With that in mind, he thought about what had happened so far that he knew about. There was no conceivable way that Mrs Bolsworthy had been to the Rectory and helped herself to his seal; that just didn’t make sense. No, he was certain that one, if not both of the Dandridges’ were involved in luring Tilly to the false job. However, they were working for someone, most probably the Mrs Bolsworthy woman, who was located in town somewhere because neither Charles, nor Roberta Dandridge appeared to have the intelligence, or the energy, to do something like this themselves.

  Now that Tilly was in Tooting Mallow though, Harry needed to find out why they had then allowed her to leave the Rectory, and go to the poor house. As far as he was aware, since Tilly had left, neither Dandridge had left the house, and so couldn’t have followed her.

  Was someone else watching the house?

  Harry turned his attention back to Dandridge when the man’s low curse broke the silence. It was immensely satisfying to witness the man’s frustration when he couldn’t open the safe. Low curses broke the silence as the butler tried, time and again, to get the door to open, only to give up in defeat several minutes later.

  Harry was already hidden in a back room of the servant’s quarters by the time Dandridge finished his search of the house, and watched the butler stomp back to bed in disgust.

  When the house had once again settled into silence, he checked everywhere was secure, and quietly made his own way back to bed.

  It was futile to check again, but he had to do it anyway, and made his way over to the window. Sure enough, the space beneath the tree on the front lawn was empty.

  Was it an omen of events yet to come? Was it a warning to his conscience that he should have done right by the young woman who had unwittingly entered into this bizarre game of cat and mouse?

  Or were the emotions that plagued him something deeper, and far more lasting?

  Was it his burgeoning affection for her that refused to be ignored and drove him to help her as quickly as possible, or guilt because he should have offered protection to a beautiful young woman in her hour of need; and hadn’t?

  CHAPTER SIX

  Tilly had never been so cold in her life. She was frozen; from the very top of her head to the tips of her toes. The thin, coarse blanket that lay over her made her itch, but did very little to provide her with any warmth. Her stomach rumbled hungrily, but she felt sick more than anything else.

  Sleep? Her mind scoffed. You can forget that now you are here.

  She battled tears as she threw the blanket off, folded it up, and placed it at the end of the uncomfortable mattress she had just spent the worst night of her life on. Apart from a single shelf on the wall above the bed, there was nothing else in the room except for the small candle stub Zack had given her. Unfortunately, she had been forced to extinguish that last night, and now had no way of relighting it again so that she could see what she was doing.

  She fumbled about in the gloom and, luckily, found one of her thickest shawls which she hurriedly drew over her shoulders. When cold continued to bite into her fingers, she cupped her hands over her mouth and blew into them in an attempt to ease the painful ache.

  At least she didn’t have much to repack this morning, but took a moment to re-straighten the bedding, and stash her bag safely under her bed where she couldn’t fall over it. She then turned to study what she could see of the room.

  “What now?”

  Although it was still dark out, the wardens had told everyone to get up. She peered out of the small square about two thirds of the way up the door, but couldn’t see anything through the bars apart from another door directly opposite, which had an equally small, barred window in it.

  She sighed and realised that she had no choice but to wait until her door was opened by the warden. However, she promised herself that, as soon as he was there, she could ask to be released, or taken to the governor so that she could ask him to
let her out.

  Hopefully, she would be gone before breakfast because the scent of milk, and something else, hung heavily in the air, but was far from appetising. It had been hours since she had last eaten, but she didn’t feel hungry at all. Right now, she was so cold that she wasn’t sure she could stop shaking long enough to get anything to her mouth without throwing it all over herself.

  The sudden sound of people moving in the corridor outside drew her attention. She hurried to the door and peered into the gloom. The sight of the warden was a blessed relief but, unfortunately, the speed in which he turned the lock to her door and walked off didn’t leave her with enough time to even open the door, much less speak to him. To her consternation, by the time she did get out into the hallway, he was already several feet away.

  At the far end of the long hallway, she saw the only familiar face: Zack, and opened her mouth to call out to him, only for an elderly woman to nudge her sharply in the ribs.

  “Mustn’t do that ducky, they’ll tell you off. No shouting around here.” She smiled a toothless grin at Tilly, and began to walk past.

  “Please, I arrived last night,” Tilly replied hesitantly. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Aye, happen you did,” the woman replied morosely, as though she was about to offer her deepest condolences. After a moment of quiet contemplation, the woman nodded down the corridor to a matronly woman who was turned out in starched grey dress covered by a pristine white apron. The authoritative air about her warned everyone that she was in charge, and was going to stay that way.

  “Mrs Taylor. She is a right one, that one, so don’t you cross her.” The only woman nodded toward the female warden. “Don’t speak to her unless she speaks to you. If she gives you a job, stick at it until she fetches you, and don’t leave no stone unturned. Somewhere in life she lost any trace of a soul, that one.”

  “But I am leaving today,” Tilly protested, but froze when the woman merely looked morosely at her. “What?”

  “Nobody leaves here, sweetheart,” another woman behind her replied in a voice that was barely a whisper.

  “Nobody?” Tilly asked doubtfully as she looked from one to the other. “Never?”

  They shook their heads, and gave her warning looks that urged her to remain silent before they motioned down the corridor in a plea for her to get a move on. Tilly felt the dark gaze of the female warden, Taylor, on her keenly as she followed the rest of the ladies down the hall to the stairs.

  “You are new here, aren’t you?” The cold arrogance in the female warden’s hard eyes was enough to warn Tilly that Mrs Taylor would be a ruthless adversary.

  “I arrived last night,” she replied quietly.

  “See that you do as you are told, and work hard,” Mrs Taylor informed her briskly.

  “I am leaving today. I need to sign myself out.” Tilly watched the older woman’s brows lift. She waited for the woman to speak, but it appeared that she had been dismissed because the warden had turned her attention to someone who was several feet away.

  When a hand on her back pushed her firmly toward the stairs, Tilly was left with little choice but to follow the other residents down the stairs. She turned around to glare at the woman who had moved her on, only for the stranger to shake her head slowly.

  “Don’t,” the woman whispered. “If she cuts you off like that, leave it. She can be real nasty that one. Don’t interrupt her if she is in one of her moods.”

  Tilly was carried along by the veritable tide of people and entered what appeared to be a large dinner hall. She followed everyone around the outskirts of the room and collected a bowl of what looked like watered down porridge, a spoon that had seen better days, and a stale chunk of bread. For a moment, she was confused about what kind of broth she had been given, because it smelled like boiled potatoes, however it had bits in that were of the consistency of porridge.

  She sat at a long table and took a tentative spoonful, and wrinkled her nose up in disgust. It really was worse than it looked.

  “Don’t waste it, they will make you work twice as hard if you throw good food away,” a young girl warned from across the table.

  There was very little in the way of conversation amongst the fifty or so women present in the room. Almost nothing was said. Even the handful of children seated at one end of the table had little to say to each other. Tilly couldn’t help but wonder why everyone was so quiet. The only sounds that could be heard were the dull thuds of crockery hitting the bowls as everyone ate. It was unnerving given how many people were there.

  Still, determined not to be thwarted, Tilly glanced at the young girl across the table. She looked about the same age as herself; if a year or so younger. Tilly glanced furtively around the room. Thankfully, there was nobody around them except for the other residents, so she took advantage of the opportunity to speak.

  “Is it always like this?”

  “What are you expecting?” the young girl gasped, and cast a furtive glance up and down the table in case anyone had seen her talking when she should have been eating.

  People around them were busy scoffing their breakfast down as fast as they could, and appeared totally oblivious to the total disregard of the rules. It was rather surreal because they were eating their repast as though it was a wonderful feast fit for a king. Tilly wondered if even the rats would turn their noses up at it, and rather suspected that they would.

  When the young girl appeared to have forgotten Tilly was there and so, with nothing else available to eat and no idea of when her next meal was likely, Tilly began to spoon the food into her mouth. With each mouthful she took, her stomach began to protest more and more until, half way down the bowl, she just couldn’t take another sip.

  She looked up and noticed the girl staring avidly at her bowl. Tilly quickly shoved the remains of her mop-water broth across the table.

  “Please, help yourself.” She took the young girl’s now empty bowl off her, and smiled at the grateful look the young girl gave her. Then sat back in disbelief, and watched her new friend practically devour the extra food. When she was nearly done, the young girl glanced around the table and looked at Tilly.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Tilly,” she replied quickly, a little relieved that someone was prepared to talk to her. “Yours?”

  There was a faint touch of almost ridiculous secrecy about what they were doing, and they both smiled conspiratorially at each other.

  “Suzanna.”

  “Don’t let Taylor catch you talking,” the woman beside Tilly warned them both without taking her eyes off her bowl.

  Tilly immediately lapsed into silence, and sat back to watch the way the women around her scraped every morsel out of their bowls. She turned her attention back to Suzanna. Her heart wept at the thought that anyone could be so hungry that they would eat someone else’s leftovers; in particular the fetid muck the likes of which they had just been served.

  “Hungry, were you?” Mrs Taylor suddenly drawled in her ear.

  Tilly jumped because she hadn’t even been aware that anyone else was close by. When she turned to look at the warden, her stomach dropped to her toes. Before she could say anything, the warden leaned forward until her nose almost touched Tilly’s.

  “Well good, because you will be able to work hard, won’t you?” The steely menace hidden in the words made Tilly shiver, and it was all she could do to nod. “Now that you are done, come with me.”

  Tilly stared at her for a moment, but didn’t move.

  “What are you waiting for?” The warden demanded.

  “I am leaving today. I am afraid there has been some mistake. I am not supposed to be here, and I am going to leave. I need to see the governor.”

  “There has been some mistake, has there? Got here and decided you didn’t like it, did you?” The warden asked with a snide laugh. “Well, you are here now, so come with me.”

  Tilly sensed freedom, but worry kept her in her seat. There was something about the
rather arrogant way the woman walked down the room that warned Tilly something was very wrong.

  “Go, quickly,” Suzanna prompted. “Don’t make her wait. She gets awful if she is made to wait.”

  Tilly quickly jumped up and hurried after the warden. By the time Mrs Taylor drew to a stop outside a closed door, Tilly was practically panting from the speed she had been forced to move to catch up. She didn’t think that anyone as ample as Mrs Taylor would be able to move so swiftly. She had no idea where they were, but watched Mrs Taylor throw a door open to reveal a large room which was empty apart from several large washtubs.

  “I need to see the governor,” Tilly said, and frowned at the warden when she didn’t appear to have heard her.

  She knew now that she had not been taken to the front of the building, where the office accommodation was, so she could talk to the governor. Instead, she was now at the rear of the building, which overlooked the dense woodland that appeared to be just as impenetrable as the fortress she was now in.

  “You get to do the laundry today.” The cold-hearted satisfaction in the warden’s eyes warned Tilly that doing the laundry was going to be nothing like doing the laundry back in Cambley Hamden.

  “Get to it,” Mrs Taylor suddenly growled, and shoved Tilly roughly into the room.

  “Wait!” Tilly protested. Unfortunately, by the time she had regained her balance, the door was closed and she was all alone. She tried to open the door only to cry in dismay when she found it had been locked.

  After several minutes of banging on the door, she was forced to accept that nobody was going to let her out. She slowly turned around, and stared at the three huge mountains of clothes on the floor.

  It was evident now that it was going to be a very long day indeed; and nothing like she had planned.

  Harry rang the bell for the third time, and stood back to wait. He shared a dark look with Barnaby, who took several steps backward so he could study the impenetrable front façade of the huge building. The sudden rattle of the ironwork on the door drew their attention back to the door, and they watched it open slowly with a long, low squeak.