Page 41 of Linenfold (The Alice Chronicles #4)

Then they are surrounded by lanterns and dark figures and helping hands, and questions, and someone is still thanking God, and she realises it is herself.

Two of them raise Jack, pulling his arms over their shoulders and someone says, ‘That’s the mistress,’ and hands pull her to her feet and then Philip is there, half-carrying her after the others now trooping into the house and milling around.

And as they step into the warm, lit kitchen she realises the tears are pouring down her face and her breath is coming in great sobbing gasps, which she has to stop before she blurts something that will give her away and they all hear.

She takes a huge breath, then another, which helps to steady her, puts off Philip’s supporting arm and pushes her way through the press to Jack where they have sat him by the kitchen table.

Betsy has had the presence of mind to bring the bucket of fair water they keep for cooking, dipping a cloth in it to lave his face and hands, and Jack is talking, coughing and talking, hoarse and gravelly, that he is well, he is well, thanks to Ned, where is Ned, and shaking his hand and thanking him.

And into the melée around him steps Mollie with a mug of the small ale they were drinking at supper and Jack holds onto Mollie’s hand as he takes a draught to rinse his mouth and spits out mud and lifts her hand to his lips and places a gentle kiss. ‘Thank you.’

Quietly Alice retreats from the crowd surrounding Jack, out of the kitchen, along the screens passage and through the hall, lit only by the fire at the end, and into the winter parlour, where she latches the door and sinks down against it and allows the single howl to break from her and the tears to stream.

This is not something she sought. It has come like a tempest out of nowhere, out of some depths within her she was not aware existed.

Like a breached dyke, out pours unstoppable all the longing of the past several months, the loneliness of running a household, the isolation of being unable to share her thoughts and feelings.

Only now does she comprehend how fulfilling have been those times talking with Jack, how she has accepted and enjoyed them, taking them for granted, not understanding what it would be like without this man whose mind is a match for her mind …

But then, what of Olivia, with whom Jack is so perfectly content?

How can I even entertain such thoughts? What better friend than Olivia could I have, who supported me for days on end through the black times after Henry’s death? Am I now to repay that friendship by a useless yearning after Olivia’s husband ?

The shock of that thought brings Alice back to herself. She cannot, will not, allow the household to glean even a hint of what has come about through Jack’s life being threatened.

The household? Anyone.

Ever.

He is alive. Be thankful you helped bring that about. Bury the rest as though it never happened. Easier said than done, yes, but the secret is yet a secret. Keep it that way.

Her obligations as mistress of the household come to her aid. She stands up, wipes her eyes, takes a deep breath and opens the winter parlour door. She is halfway across the hall when Rose comes, taper in hand, looking for her.

‘Oh, mistress, we wondered where you’d got to. God a’ mercy! Look at you! You’ll have to change.’

‘Dear Rose,’ Alice says, regarding her muddied gown. ‘You have the right of it.’

‘I’ll get out your loose gown. You don’t want to lace up again at this time of night.’

‘I shall change but not just yet. Are Allan or Joe in the kitchen still?’

‘Both. We’re all there. I think we’ll be talking about this for hours yet.’ Rose sounds almost happy at the thought.

‘Master Egerton must stay the night,’ Alice says. ‘Do you make up the bed in the main chamber while I get a message sent to Freemans. And tell Mollie I’d like her to light the fire in there. I’ll sleep with you all in the attics.’

In the kitchen, Alice beckons Joe and goes to Jack. Despite his hair still matted with mud, his mired clothes and shoes, he is more himself and in his senses. ‘Jack, I’m sending Joe over to Freemans and you’re staying here tonight. What message should he give Olivia?’

‘I can get home,’ he says, rising. ‘It’s only a step.’

Ned’s hand comes down on Jack’s shoulder, pressing him back on his chair. ‘Mistress says you’re staying here, sir, so here’s where you’re staying.’

Jack looks at Alice, his face haggard, his smile pallid.

‘I thank you. Say only that I was delayed in town and don’t want to risk the bay in the dark.

I’ll be home in the morning. Say nothing of this,’ he says to Joe, indicating his muddy state.

‘I don’t want Mistress Egerton worried overnight. And go carefully in the dark.’

‘I’ll ride with you,’ Jackson says. The kitchen is still full and Joe weaves his way out through the throng, Jackson following. ‘Between us, we’ll make sure you get saddled, boy, and not smothered.’

As Alice turns away, Jack’s hand lightly takes her arm. She is rooted.

‘Alice, I owe you my life.’

‘In truth,’ she says at last, ‘it was Ned. And more, it was Mollie. She was worried enough to speak your name. And God forgive me, I did not heed her for a while. I might have been too late.’ She hears her voice cracking and stops.

‘But you weren’t. And I thank you.’ He takes his hand away. She feels herself start to breathe again. The crowd in the kitchen are all ears, but only she can hear the banging of her heart.

‘Do you know who tried to kill you?’ she asks. ‘Was it—’

‘I’ve no idea,’ he says, and she knows he is lying, there are too many listening. ‘Perhaps he mistook me for another.’

She nods. ‘In the dark, yes, perhaps so.’ And turning to Ned, ‘Ned, you were suddenly there, behind me. What made you come out? Did you hear me call?’

‘We all heard, but I was nearest the door,’ he says. ‘Couldn’t see you at first. Then you were there by the wash house. They found your lantern at the vegetable patch.’

‘I am more grateful than I can say. If it hadn’t been for you …

’ Ned, she thinks. Ned is the man. She will ask him to sleep in the chamber passage tonight.

There must be no further attempt on Jack’s life.

So Louise-Lewis never fled when Honorine did.

He hid nearby ready to pounce. Has he now fled?

Or is he hiding out there still? Who will be his next target?