How the Hangman Lost His Heart (20 page)

“Well, nearly everything,” said Dan modestly. “I did remember to make air holes in the coffin so as the poor captain could breathe, but look at your breeches, sir.” Hew looked down. “They're brown,” Dan said. “Now look at the dummy's.”

“They're black!” exclaimed Alice, her jig momentarily suspended.

“I couldn't remember what color they were,” said Dan. “Just fancy. All that time in Newgate together and I couldn't remember the color of a pair of breeches. Probably because it was so dark. Anyway, I only realized my mistake when you were hanging. A nasty moment.” Dan's grin faded. “But it's over now.”

A voice from the back door brought them all up short. “What is this? A fairground?” Lady Widdrington was gazing down and she recognized Mrs. Ffrench. “Good Lord, madam,” she called. “I thought you were a lady, not a tradesman. I never expected to find you at the back door.”

Mrs. Ffrench went to greet her, but found herself confronted by Ursula, whose mouth was agape.
Although the execution was hardly an hour past, a friend had already been around to tell her that it was the bloodiest she had ever seen. And now to find the dead man talking in the yard! Such a good-looking dead man too. Ursula did not know whether to flirt or faint.

Alice wanted her to do neither. The appearance of her grandmother and aunt only served as a reminder that she, Dan, Hew, and Uncle Frank's head were not yet out of danger. They must leave London at once. Only at Towneley would they be safe. Behind those granite hills, nobody would come looking for them. In a week or two, when some new scandal began to circulate through the country, the saga of Uncle Frank's head would be quite forgotten. “I want to go home, Granny,” she said, hoping that the firmness of her tone would keep her grandmother's mind from wandering off. “Indeed, I must go home, since that is what Justice Peckersniff told me to do and I'm never disobedient.”

Her grandmother bent her head to the side. For one awful moment Alice thought that she was going to pretend that her granddaughter was a complete stranger full of ill intent and bellow for soldiers. Instinctively, Alice stepped back to protect Hew. However, Lady Widdrington just beckoned Alice to her, her little eyes both keen and sorry. “You'll not
come back to visit your Faraway Granny, I know that.” It was a statement of fact rather than a question. “No, Granny, I won't,” Alice said. It seemed a time for truth. “I don't think I'll ever come to London again.”

“I'll miss you.” Lady Widdrington wiped away a tear, then gave a cackle and signaled to Bunion to prepare the carriage. “That is, when I remember who you are!”

“Well, I won't be sorry,” said Ursula, flumping down the steps with her hands on her hips. Her face was half twisted into a smile for Hew and half into a glare for her niece. It seemed just the last insulting straw that this chit of a girl, who had ridden with no stockings on, should leave with not one man in tow, but two.

“Good-bye, Aunt,” Alice said to her, but gave up when Ursula flounced off.

Hew was bidding his mother and Mabel farewell. “Look after each other,” he told them. “I will send money to you somehow.”

“Go, go quickly, Hew,” his mother urged. “I couldn't bear it if anything else was to happen to you.” She shook Dan's hand warmly, speechless now in both her happiness at her son's rescue and her grief at his departure.

Mabel, although her good-bye to Alice was terse, managed a warmer smile for Hew. “Write to us,” she said, and then added, for Alice's benefit, “You'll need
a new identity, but don't let those Catholics turn you into a priest.”

Alice tossed her hair, rising to the bait. “Certainly not,” she said, taking Hew's hand in a proprietorial gesture that made Mabel want to slap her. “I don't think Hew is destined for the Church.”

“Children, children,” admonished Mrs. Ffrench, “you must be friends if”—she looked directly at Hew—“you are eventually to be sisters.”

Dan didn't want to hear this. He gave a small gulp and seized Hew's head. Alice screamed. But it was only Hew's hair that Dan was after. With a knife and not a little satisfaction, he began to chop off the beautiful black locks. Thick wedges formed a carpet on the ground and Hew's face was soon framed by uneven spikes. “Disguise,” Dan muttered. “Sorry if it does away with your looks.” He busied himself bundling the dummy back into the coffin and hammered down the nails again with a little too much enthusiasm. “You'll have to take this and bury it,” he said to Mrs. Ffrench. “Bury it deep and don't forget that you'll have to do some mourning for your son. If you look too happy, we'll all be undone.”

At the word “mourning,” Ursula, who had flounced back, cheered up. She had some spectacular mourning clothes in which, she believed, she looked absolutely ravishing. She would lay them out at once.

“Now,” Dan continued, “I'll wash under your pump and dress up in your livery if you don't mind, Lady Widdrington. Bunion here can take the cart bearing Captain Ffrench's coffin and Mrs. Ffrench and I'll drive the carriage north. We'll send it back to you somehow. Captain Ffrench, get in and keep your head down. Come on, missy, time to go.” He disappeared and they heard muffled oaths before he reappeared, squeezed into white leg britches and a scarlet coat, with a white wig and a hat with an immense cockade. His face was mutinous and he dared Alice to laugh as he picked up the hatbox and pushed her toward the carriage door. Alice slipped past him one last time to plant a spontaneous kiss on the cheek of Mrs. Ffrench. “I'm sorry for all the fuss,” she said, “and Uncle Frank would be sorry too. Everything seems to have happened so quickly.”

“Come on now,” Dan said impatiently. “The longer we dally the greater the danger. We'll just have to hope that your grandmother's servants won't gossip about what they've seen here.”

Bunion sniffed. “You're not the only one with morals, Dan Skinslicer,” he said. “Take care of my horses.”

With that the gates swung back open and the carriage was gone. It was only when they were well out of London that Dan realized he had forgotten to
put Hew's waxen effigy into the coffin. Uncle Frank's hatbox contained two heads still. It made Hew feel rather strange, to be traveling with his head in a box, but, with Alice at his side, he reckoned that he could get used to anything.

Alice's return home in her grandmother's carriage with a hangman, an admirer, and Uncle Frank's head was greeted with some surprise by her parents. Alice told a garbled story, to which her parents, standing awkwardly in the cavernous gloom of the great hall, appeared to be paying attention. “Yes, dear, goodness!” they both said at appropriate moments. In fact, neither heard more than every fifth word. Alice's father was wondering about the accuracy of his rain gauge, suspect ever since Alice had gone away, and her mother about the prodigious amounts of mold that one of her cheeses had sprouted. “Well, you are very welcome, er, er …” Sir Thomas looked vaguely at his wife.

“Captain Ffrench and Mr. Skinslicer,” said Alice helpfully.

“Indeed.”

“Alice, dear, we weren't quite expecting you. How's Faraway Granny—and Ursula, of course?” Her mother
wondered if the cheese had grown too warm—or perhaps too cold. It reminded her—“Uncle Frank's body arrived in surprisingly good order,” she said. “We buried him. It was a sad day.”

Sir Thomas echoed his wife's sentiments. “Sad day, sad day,” he repeated.

Now was the moment. “I've brought his head back,” said Alice, pointing to Mabel's hatbox. “We should bury it too.”

Lady Towneley looked at the hatbox with some disappointment, for despite her spreading waistline and collapsing beauty, she had inherited an interest in fashion from Lady Widdrington. “Oh, what a pity. I thought you were going to show me some new styles.”

Alice giggled. Home was just the same. She slipped her arm through her mother's, who looked down at her daughter and sighed. “Oh well,” she said. “I suppose we can combine another burial with a party for your homecoming. Such a pity Frank won't be here to enjoy it.” She dabbed her eyes, for she had been very fond of her brother-in-law.

Sir Thomas gave a little hum. He too had been fond of his brother, but now it was raining. He could tell that because large drops of water were dripping from the ceiling somewhere miles above and splashing the stones at his feet. His rain gauge was calling.

“Better go, Father,” Alice prompted gently. “Who knows how much water you might collect today? It could be a record.”

“If you're sure.” Sir Thomas did not need more persuading. “Nice to have you back, dearest daughter,” he said, feeling pleased that he still liked her, “and I hope you will come and help me again at my calculations. Somehow, since you went, they have become rather dull.” He waved an arm at Hew and Dan and vanished up the staircase.

The rain pattered down with increasing vehemence and, although they were certain that their beds would be damp, both Dan and Hew were delighted to hear it, for within half an hour of their arrival the roads were reduced to a quagmire. Had Bonnie Prince Charlie himself been at Towneley, it would have been difficult for even Major Slavering at his most determined to beat a path through to arrest him. Alice had the servants build up the fire and, for the first time since they had known each other, the three of them sat in a row: warm, safe, and, after Alice had nagged the cook, well fed.

Three days later, in the very early morning, several people could be seen slipping into the weather-beaten stone church that was tucked beside the house. From the outside, to fool the Protestants, it looked like a
coach house, with broad doors and high windows. Indeed, several of the Towneley conveyances were parked haphazardly around about. But inside was a small chapel, smelling of polish and incense. At the far end, an altarpiece, beautifully carved with flowers and saints, was lit by candles and, in front of it, the red sanctuary lamp, like the eye of God, hung suspended. Father Saunderson, the Towneley's pet priest, was already on his knees and beside him was the hatbox.

It was chilly in the chapel and Alice and her mother pulled their cloaks around them. Dan and Hew stood in silence at the back, Dan wondering what Johanna would say if she could see him now. Hew was happier than he would ever be again in his whole life. Over the last few days, as she had shown her guests around the castle and taken them along the secret paths up onto the moors, Alice had chattered away, telling stories as they plowed through the bogs. At dinnertime, she sat demurely near her parents, flashing glances at him under her eyelashes amid the candlelight. In the chapel, with her head bowed, she looked like a medieval saint. If Hew could not find as much to say as she could, it mattered little, for Alice never ran out of conversation. When they were alone, the silences that fell between them were silky, easy things. Only the presence of Dan made things sticky
and Hew could see how hard Alice worked to make this right. He loved her even more for that.

The vault under the chapel had been opened and a small, dark hole winked at them. From here Uncle Frank's coffin had already been extricated and it was sitting on top of the marble slab that marked the tomb of a previous Sir Thomas and his lady.

“Now, Father Saunderson,” said Alice's father, nervous in case the weather changed while he was otherwise engaged, “let's begin.”

The ceremony did not take much time. The hatbox, looking very incongruous, was set on the altar for a blessing as if it was some kind of purchase on a shop counter. Dan harrumphed, thinking Father Saunderson looked like nothing but a magician, with his cope and his incomprehensible mumblings.

Then came the moment when the coffin had to be opened. Dan was ready for the summons and did the job easily with hammer and chisel. He knew better than to look inside. Ignoring everybody, he picked up the hatbox and set it down on the tomb. He could see that Alice's mother had her handkerchief over her face and that her father was steadfastly telling his rosary beads. Father Saunderson tried to rise, but never quite made it and Hew, who had no wish to see the effigy of his own head again, hovered at a distance.

Suddenly, Alice was at Dan's side, smiling conspiratorially, as if they were the only two people in the world. “Well, Dan Skinslicer,” she said, “the last lap. We've brought Uncle Frank home. Shall I take the lid off?”

“Don't seem any point in delaying things, missy,” Dan agreed.

She had to use a knife to cut the rope. The waxen head emerged first. Alice raised her eyebrows. What was she to do with this? There seemed only one solution. She popped it into the coffin, just above Uncle Frank's right shoulder. Dan approved. He then took out Frank's head and carefully placed it back exactly where it should have been. It was a beautiful join. “A tribute to your clean swing,” said Alice with heartfelt pride. Both were surprised at how cozy the colonel looked, but neither was surprised to see his eyes full of twinkles. Alice tipped the wax head over so the two heads looked as though they were chatting before her hand sought Dan's and he held it fast. “We should say something,” she whispered, “before we put the lid back on.”

“I'm no good with words, missy, you know that,” murmured Dan, leaning over to settle the hair, “but we could just say “good-bye and Godspeed.” I'm not really one for your popish prayers.”

“That's perfect,” Alice told him, gently serious. “Let's say it together, Dan Skinslicer. Ready?”

“Good-bye and Godspeed, Uncle Frank,” they chanted. Hew heard them and wanted to go and join them, but they did not invite him and he did not want to intrude. Alice, still holding on to Dan, touched Frank's eyelids with her fingertips. They closed at once. “Oh!” Alice gave a little jump. “Perhaps that's all we needed to do all along, Dan Skinslicer. Perhaps he could have closed his eyes weeks ago if we'd helped him.”