Ask Me No Questions by Patricia Veryan Page A

apologies.
    "Never mind that," hissed Grace. "Did anyone call whilst I was gone?"
    "A farmer and his wife. They bought the case clock, ma'am. Took it with 'em."
    Grace moaned. "What about the two ladies who was here this morning? Did their servants come for the things they bought?"
    "Not yet, Miss Grace."
    "They better make haste!' she thought. "Where's the missus?"
    "In the master's study. Fell sound asleep in his chair, she done. Master Thorpe and Master Jacob wanted to talk to her, but I sent them out to play, so she could get a bit of a kip, poor lady."
    She told him he'd done just right, and gave him certain instructions that sent him scurrying off, his eyes round with curiosity.
    Grace bustled along the silent hall. The case clock was gone, then. One less. But there was still the marble one on the mantelpiece in the book room, and the little china one in Mrs. A's bedchamber…
    The marble clock struck the half-hour as she opened the book room door, causing her to jump and swing the door shut quickly. She ran to the hearth and stood on tiptoe.
    "What you doin', Miss Grace?"
    With a yelp she whipped around, her heart thundering.
    One of the twins stood watching her, his grey eyes too solemn for a five-year-old.
    "How you frightened me!" panted Grace, a hand to her chest. "You shouldn't creep up on folk that way, Master Jacob!"
    "I din't creep. An' I'm Thorpe. What you doin' to—"
    "It was—it was running down and the time was wrong, so I'm putting it right again."
    "Oh." He walked out with her, and followed her to the stairs.
    At the top she said, "Go and put on your coat and hat, dear. And tell Jacob to get ready."
    "All right." But instead he stayed with her as she hurried to Ruth's bedchamber. Grace paused and looked down at him. Poor mite, he still had that solemn look. She put a hand on his fair curls. "What is it, Master Thorpe?"
    "Aunty Ruth says we're goin' away." The tone of his voice remained the same, but he took her hand in both of his and clung to it tightly while his big eyes searched her face. "Are we all goin'… to the same place?"
    She suffered a pang. "What did your aunty say?"
    "She says we are. But she looks funny with her hair all squashed like that. An' she was too tired to talk, she said."
    "Well, I expect she was. She'll tell you all about it soon, dear. Now run along and do as I told you."
    He relinquished her hand reluctantly, and turned away. As she opened Ruth's door, he said with a gulp, "If they're goin' to send us all different places, Jacob and me—we'll run away. To be pirates!"
    He galloped off then, but she had seen the glint of tears, and her heart was wrung.
    Half an hour later, sitting beside Grace in the rocking coach, and with Jacob and Thorpe craning their necks to watch the afternoon countryside race past, Ruth said, "I cannot believe I slept for such a time. Thank goodness you woke me, Grace, else we'd never have reached Croydon before dark."
    "I thought I'd best, Mrs. A. Being as the other carriage will be waiting for us in Shoeburyness."
    "Yes, indeed. Still, I wish that unpleasant woman had come to collect her things before we left. You did tell William which items are hers?"
    "I told him," said Grace woodenly.
    "He's such a good man. 'Twas kind of him to offer to stay and help Samuel move the rest of our furnishings into the cellar. I don't think the new owners will object, do you? 'Twill only be for a few months. When I finish Sir Brian's fresco I should have sufficient put by that we'll be able to rent a little house, perhaps, and can try to sell some more of our things for—" She broke off with a gasp as the carriage swerved and Samuel Coachman shouted something uncomplimentary.
    A stagecoach thundered past from the opposite direction, having all but forced them into the ditch.
    "Wheee!" hooted Thorpe. "I wish I might go by a Portsmouth Machine!"
    "Not me," said Jacob. "The people were all squashed together, an' that big outside passenger looked jus' like a rank rider.