fell.
“Alan!” She grabbed his hand to steady him. Andy Campbell squeaked with dismay as her shoulder jerked.
“You’re going to be killed if you stay here” Alan said finally, after he had rested a moment. His eyes were closed and his breath came in gasps.
“What are you talking about?”
“Please, just listen to me. You have to go. I … can’t …
help
you…. She’ll ask…. I cannot lie…. Meet me at your mother’s crypt as soon as you can. Take very little with you so no one will suspect anything! Hurry! Wait for me there!”
And he was gone. Just like that, her world had changed.
Murder
her?
Who? The duchess? Why? Was she pregnant at last? Was Snow some sort of a threat?
Her next thought was for the mice. She carefully set them down and took all of the food out of her special hiding place and put it under the bed for them.
“That will last you awhile.” She would ask Alan to look after them after she was gone.
How long will I be gone?
Snow quickly went through a list of her dearest possessions. She was already wearing her locket. She found a little bag and put papers and a pen and pencils in it, so she could write letters from wherever she went. She folded up one of her nicer—but not nicest—dresses and put that in as well.
Money
. Shealmost forgot, not having been out or allowed to buy anything since she had been first confined. She gathered up all the money she had and some jewelry to sell: a couple of necklaces and bracelets, and a pretty little ornamented pocket mirror the duchess had given her their first Christmas together. She put in a scarf and a muff, unsure of the weather, wherever she would be going. Then she hid the bag as close to her body as she could and donned the black cloak she was famous for wearing down to the old church. Snow inspected herself in the mirror. There was barely a bulge where she wore the bag. Then she quietly slipped through the shadowed halls of the great estate.
“Mistress Talbot,” she said quietly and deferentially to the old tutor, who was reading in the library. “I would go see my mother’s grave.”
The woman frowned at her over small wire glasses. “I think you grow excessively morbid, child, but do as you will. Be back before supper.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Where would she go? Where
could
she go? She had no other family, no friends…. Davey, perhaps? No, he lived too close. Dolly? Was Swansea also too near? Alan would think of something. He would take care of her.
But wait, didn’t he say he
couldn’t help?
What did that mean?
People saw her, but no one really took notice asshe walked quietly down the gravel-strewn path under the beeches to the old church. It occurred to her that she hadn’t even thought of her father—then again, she saw him so rarely. She wondered if he would miss her.
The wooden door was hard to push, the air cold and damp as she entered. Alan was nowhere to be seen yet, so she sat by her mother’s grave, to say goodbye and to wait.
PART THREE
The Lonely Ones
Chapter Twelve
LONDON
S
now was sure she would never be warm again.
It was not just the rain or the evening air, but a sinister mix of the two that became fog here, patches of freezing darkness there, and icy rivulets going down the back of her dress everywhere. She tried to put thoughts of fever out of her mind; she was a healthy girl and in no danger yet.
The wagon and driver Snow had found eventually got her to Cardiff, with a change to a real coach at an inn along the way. No one would think to look for a young duchess on such a “measly” means of conveyance. In Cardiff she took a coach-class seat on the train. It was her first trip on a locomotive, but she was too scared and exhausted to enjoy it. She fell asleep, awoke, bought a cheese sandwich and a watery tea, and fell asleep again.
When she arrived at Paddington Station, Snow stood stock-still, staring at the crowds. She had never seen so many people in her life. Families, women,
“Alan!” She grabbed his hand to steady him. Andy Campbell squeaked with dismay as her shoulder jerked.
“You’re going to be killed if you stay here” Alan said finally, after he had rested a moment. His eyes were closed and his breath came in gasps.
“What are you talking about?”
“Please, just listen to me. You have to go. I … can’t …
help
you…. She’ll ask…. I cannot lie…. Meet me at your mother’s crypt as soon as you can. Take very little with you so no one will suspect anything! Hurry! Wait for me there!”
And he was gone. Just like that, her world had changed.
Murder
her?
Who? The duchess? Why? Was she pregnant at last? Was Snow some sort of a threat?
Her next thought was for the mice. She carefully set them down and took all of the food out of her special hiding place and put it under the bed for them.
“That will last you awhile.” She would ask Alan to look after them after she was gone.
How long will I be gone?
Snow quickly went through a list of her dearest possessions. She was already wearing her locket. She found a little bag and put papers and a pen and pencils in it, so she could write letters from wherever she went. She folded up one of her nicer—but not nicest—dresses and put that in as well.
Money
. Shealmost forgot, not having been out or allowed to buy anything since she had been first confined. She gathered up all the money she had and some jewelry to sell: a couple of necklaces and bracelets, and a pretty little ornamented pocket mirror the duchess had given her their first Christmas together. She put in a scarf and a muff, unsure of the weather, wherever she would be going. Then she hid the bag as close to her body as she could and donned the black cloak she was famous for wearing down to the old church. Snow inspected herself in the mirror. There was barely a bulge where she wore the bag. Then she quietly slipped through the shadowed halls of the great estate.
“Mistress Talbot,” she said quietly and deferentially to the old tutor, who was reading in the library. “I would go see my mother’s grave.”
The woman frowned at her over small wire glasses. “I think you grow excessively morbid, child, but do as you will. Be back before supper.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Where would she go? Where
could
she go? She had no other family, no friends…. Davey, perhaps? No, he lived too close. Dolly? Was Swansea also too near? Alan would think of something. He would take care of her.
But wait, didn’t he say he
couldn’t help?
What did that mean?
People saw her, but no one really took notice asshe walked quietly down the gravel-strewn path under the beeches to the old church. It occurred to her that she hadn’t even thought of her father—then again, she saw him so rarely. She wondered if he would miss her.
The wooden door was hard to push, the air cold and damp as she entered. Alan was nowhere to be seen yet, so she sat by her mother’s grave, to say goodbye and to wait.
PART THREE
The Lonely Ones
Chapter Twelve
LONDON
S
now was sure she would never be warm again.
It was not just the rain or the evening air, but a sinister mix of the two that became fog here, patches of freezing darkness there, and icy rivulets going down the back of her dress everywhere. She tried to put thoughts of fever out of her mind; she was a healthy girl and in no danger yet.
The wagon and driver Snow had found eventually got her to Cardiff, with a change to a real coach at an inn along the way. No one would think to look for a young duchess on such a “measly” means of conveyance. In Cardiff she took a coach-class seat on the train. It was her first trip on a locomotive, but she was too scared and exhausted to enjoy it. She fell asleep, awoke, bought a cheese sandwich and a watery tea, and fell asleep again.
When she arrived at Paddington Station, Snow stood stock-still, staring at the crowds. She had never seen so many people in her life. Families, women,
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