Alice was in the small exercise room in the garage going through the routines that Thackery had been trying to lay down with her. Tarrant and Thackery were still missing, and her sudden desire for exercise conveniently confirmed that the car was gone and probably had been since she'd had her unpleasant conversation with Nivens and Hamish earlier that afternoon. To her surprise the simple but challenging movements did help to calm her nerves. If she was in the position to immediately know when the car returned, well, that too was comforting.
When she finally heard the heavy old-fashioned garage door roll upwards, she bolted through into the larger space. Instead of Tarrant pulling up the old manual door, Thackery was struggling to push the finicky door up on its rollers. Alice hurried over to help him. She held it in place while Thackery went back to the car and backed it into its space. The thought of Thackery driving seemed a strange one, but he managed well enough.
He shut the door with a clank and hurried to where Alice was bearing the entire weight of the door on her own. "Sorry! That damned car is such a piece of junk. I hate driving it! Tarrant keeps claiming he'll get rid of it once he's fixed it up, but he's becoming as obsessed with it as his uncle was. Not like he couldn't afford a better one," Thackery grumbled as he helped Alice ease the door back down.
"Where is Tarrant then?" Alice tried to let the question out nonchalantly, but her desperation showed in her voice. She could scarcely think of anything else.
"I dropped him off with Daisy and Violet. They're pretty good with him. I thought it would be best to get him somewhere a little less. . .well, a bit more. . ."
Thackery nervously tugged at his dreadlocks and turned to fiddle with the ancient looking lock on the door runner. He looked chagrined at being unable to put that a little more clearly.
Alice's brow furrowed at this news. Tarrant wished to avoid her, and so had gotten roaring drunk, trashed his workroom and one but not all of her textbooks, passed out and then had been spirited away to two female friends who Alice had never met. She tried to remind herself that she had only recently met Tarrant, that naturally there were many of Tarrant's friends who she did not know yet. Just because they were women was no reason whatsoever for her to feel an unexpected stab of jealousy.
"Daisy, the singer?" she quietly asked.
Thackery was determined not to be put off by her tone, but rather walked back to the pegboard to return the car keys to their hook.
"Aye, though she's as much a dancer as a singer. Tarrant sometimes does stuff for her."
This non-specific assertion did not ease Alice's worry in the least. She chewed her bottom lip in agitation, something she had believed her mother had broken her of long ago. Thackery sighed.
"Seems if I'm not babysitting one of you, it's the other," he muttered under his breath. "Well, might as well get some benefit out of it. Get your coat and you can help me dig turnips in the garden. I've also got some potatoes still in the ground for the soup tomorrow. Then if you're still feeling mopey you can help me organize the cupboards and shred beets for pickling. That should sort you out til Tarrant gets back."
"He's coming back then?" Alice asked nervously.
Thackery arched a brow at her. "O'course he's coming back. This is his house, remember?"
"I just thought—with everything everyone's been saying—he might. . .prefer to be somewhere I'm not. That perhaps I ought to leave."
Thackery pursed his lips. "Oh, 'everyone' is it? I know Hamish thinks a lot of himself but I wouldn't go so far as to consider his the only opinion out there, Alice."
"Not just Hamish!" Alice hastened to add, "but also Nivens and of course Mally's been saying I ought to leave since I first set foot in the door, but you too. You said it was difficult for Tarrant—whatever it is exactly that's happening here, I still don't know—but that it's harder with me being here."
Thackery held out his hands, though he didn't quite reach toward her. Alice wouldn't have minded if he had. She could probably do with a hug just about now.
"I didn't mean—well, I did. But the problem is that Tarrant is having trouble talking to you. So yes, if you weren't in the equation, this problem might not exist, but it does, because Tarrant wants you to be here, and so far you've seemed like ye wanted to be here as well. S that still the case?"
"Yes!" Alice rushed out with this answer before she had the chance to filter it at all. Truth be told there was nothing more she wanted in the world than remaining at Witzend forever. All her previous thoughts of how she ought to strike out on her own and make her own way in the world had lost their hold. Alice had become painfully aware of how much uncertainty existed in her life and the comfort and predictability of her time in the house had become precious to her as a result. Still, it was not her house, but Tarrant's, and she would have to leave if it didn't suit him. She struggled to get herself under control. "That is, only if I'm not being a—a burden. I know I'm not pulling my own weight, that I'm just here due to kindness—Tarrant's and yours of course. But you should know that if I'm too much trouble it's not as if I have nowhere else to go."
Thackery did touch her then, moving swiftly forward to grab her forearm lightly.
"Ye're not thinking of returning to your mother?" he asked, concern evident in his eyes.
"No-o, not yet. There's still too much I need to find out before I could get anywhere with her. And Margaret, well, I've just been putting off dealing with her to tell the truth. But Hamish says—"
"Hamish again," muttered Thackery.
"Hamish says," Alice restated, "that there's a flat his father keeps for work that I might use for a while if need be."
"And what would you do all day shut up in a flat by yourself?"
Alice bristled, as if she hadn't had to occupy herself for years before Thackery came around to give her chores!
"I'm sure I could think of something," she answered haughtily.
"Och, here now, Alice. It's not that I'm trying to fight with you. It's that I can't help but think, honestly, that this is the best place for you at the moment. Throwing yourself back onto the mercy of these Ascots, well, isn't that how your family got into a bad situation in the first place?"
Alice's brow furrowed.
"How do you mean?"
"Well, if yer father left Hamish's father control of his company, doesn't it seem like the least Ascot could do was to see you all comfortably settled somewhere? Perhaps with your mother or Margaret or both found a job of some sort if the money for keeping you all was too dear. But instead you are mysteriously given a drug to prevent your growing and then kicked out of school and shut away from all your previous acquaintances and set to flout child labor laws while your mother and sister go on much as before. If I were you, I'd think long and hard about the alternatives before giving yourself back over to his care."
Alice pursed her lips. Everytime one of her new friends offered her their opinion on her circumstances she was forced to reevaluate a time in her life that was so hazy with grief and illness that she had hardly been able to do a thing but to put it behind her. She reluctantly followed Thackery out to the garden and accepted the muddy trowel he held out to her. She frowned. She didn't even like turnips.
-o-o-o-
The afternoon passed slowly, and Alice began to feel like the ball in a game of playground keep-away between Hamish and Thackery. Hamish clearly wished to speak to her alone, but whenever he approached, Thackery would mysteriously appear and set her another task under his direct supervision. Alice's eyes were magnetically drawn to the clock, tension mounting as she realized how long it had been since she'd last seen Tarrant. She knelt on the floor before the washing machine, putting in a load of household linens for Thackery, when Hamish bustled into the tiny cupboard-like room and hurriedly shut the door behind him. He smiled slightly at his successful outmaneuvering of Thackery, but sobered as he turned to Alice earnestly. The seriousness of the situation was marred by the drying rack full of Alice's mostly-dry laundry hanging between them. Hamish pushed a pair of pajama pants to the side to better regard her.
She sniffed at his large-eyed serious expression. As if she hadn't just seen him triumphing at catching her.
She spoke before he had the chance, "Whatever you have to say, I don't want to hear it Hamish. Thackery has assured me that Tarrant will soon return, and I will wait and sort this all out with him. There's no need to pester me further with lies and hearsay."
"Please Alice, I am telling you the truth. I was unequivocally told that Tarrant Hayes has killed a man in cold blood. He is not someone to waste your time mooning over. If he has gone, you should consider yourself lucky to have had a clean escape. Please let me get you out of this house," Hamish implored, "It is no place for a girl in your position."
"A girl in my position?" Alice asked, beginning to get angry. "What position is that exactly? Helpless and ignorant? That seems to be how everyone would like to keep me. I might not know everything about what's going on—whether it's Tarrant or the business or Daddy's death and what came after, but I'm going to find out! Stop trying to get in my way!"
Hamish seized upon her words. "Yes Alice, I agree with you—there's much to be found out. Let me get you out of this house and we can start looking for answers. We'll find out all about the business details and Hayes as well. Then you'll be able to see what's what without being clouded by the haze of this peculiar house. All you need to do is let me help you."
Alice searched the face of her long-time enemy and longer-time friend. He seemed completely sincere. She sighed.
"I appreciate you offer Hamish. And I really truly would like your help figuring out what happened after Daddy died. But as far as my—my relationship," Alice tripped over the term, never having labelled whatever it was between herself and her host and kissing practice partner before, but she soldiered on with a blush, "with Tarrant, I must ask you to leave me to work things out for myself."
She started the machine and began pulling down her clothes, tossing them into the now empty laundry basket though some were still damp. Well, it would give Hamish a chance to make his exit.
Yet he could not leave without having the last word.
"When you're ready to see reason then, Alice, I will do my best not to say I told you so."
With that, Hamish made an awkward half-bow and exited the closet, pointlessly shutting the door behind him. Alice shook her head. Hamish really was too much.
Gathering up her laundry basket after completing her task, she opened the door. Her ears zeroed in on the sound of Thackery's voice scolding in the other room. Was he—could he be speaking to Tarrant?
"Weel don't come crying to me when it doesnae work out!" said Thackery, his voice coming closer. He rounded the corner, passing her where she stood by the back door. He looked exasperated but amused, and gave her an encouraging nod and a twitchy wink as he passed out the door into the garden.
Alice's heart jumped into her throat as she turned the corner and spied a ginger head hung in contrition in the living room. Torn between rushing him and setting down the laundry basket, she awkwardly started forward until she ended up tipping some of her pile of shirts and knickers over the side onto the floor.
"Er, Alice!" Tarrant tried to rise from where he had been sitting with his feet hooked around the legs of his chair. Somehow he was not quite able to disentangle himself, and instead tripped and fell forward, catching himself with one hand out, forced into bearing his full weight in a bizarre display of clumsiness and strength all at once. He scrambled up and began to help her replace the laundry in its basket..
"I must apologize to you," he lisped quickly, green eyes meeting hers and then dropping away as he continued. "I seem to have damaged one of your books. I will of course replace it—in fact Thackery has been so good as to order one already. It should be here in three days if the shipping estimate is to be believed."
Alice was so happy to finally see Tarrant that she merely waved this away. He was not making eye contact, which was a somewhat troubling sign, but since he was finally there, Alice didn't want to quibble.
"Really, don't worry about it. I'm just so—so glad to see you finally. I don't want to press you, but I have been so confused—no one will tell me anything—but now you're back and I'm sure things will be alright."
She tried again and failed to get him to meet her hopeful gaze. "Won't they?" she finished, intending to be upbeat, but instead ending up sounding a touch desperate.
Tarrant took a slow breath.
"Yes," he said shortly, without as much conviction as Alice had been hoping to hear.
"But for now, I'm afraid I've been scolded most dreadfully by Thackery and have to get to work fixing up the workroom. I—er—tripped, and made quite a mess I'm afraid...and it must be sorted out immediately."
Alice rose swiftly, "I'll help you," she said quickly.
Tarrant also stood and finally met her eyes. He looked tired and hesitant, the sparkle of humor she usually found there disappointingly absent. His gaze dropped to the laundry basket in her arms.
"No, Alice. There is broken glass. You go upstairs, put your things away, and I'll see you when I've finished."
He reached toward her, his fingers hovering bare inches from her arm, but he did not close the gap. Instead he nodded to her, turned and walked slowly toward the other side of the house.
Alice reluctantly went upstairs. She puttered around, putting away her laundry and flipping the pages of a book on the eighteenth-century silk trade she'd found on Tarrant's bookshelf. Finally she drifted back down the stairs, finding herself before the workroom door once more. It was closed, and Alice couldn't bring herself to try the brass knob. It would hurt too much to find it locked once more. She sunk down onto the floorboards, determined to wait until Tarrant emerged. She shivered a bit despite her woolen jumper. The kitten who was not actually named Dinette approached and settled herself in Alice's lap. The dim lighting and sleepy weight of the kitten eventually lulled her to sleep.
Alice awoke in the bed bed upstairs to the daily blinding rays that hit her side of the bed earlier than she'd prefer. Once again, the other side of the bed covers remained smooth. Tarrant had slept elsewhere, if he'd slept at all. A hollow ache hit Alice in the gut. What should she do?
As she dressed, this melancholy turned to frustration, which turned to anger. Really, what was the point of all this fuss? Hamish ran about spreading lies and sowing dissention, while everyone else in the house pussyfooted around, refusing to address the issue. Something was troubling Tarrant, and she needed to find out what. Alice knew she was capable of taking the initiative to set things straight, and wasn't there no time like the present? They might treat her like a helpless waif, so it was down to her to show them she was made of sterner stuff.
She washed and dressed quickly, determined to settle matters as forthrightly as possible. Carefully waiting at the doorway until she saw Hamish enter the washroom, Alice bounded down the stair with a stubborn set to her jaw. She nodded at Mally who stood by the toaster, and approached Tarrant, who she found at the round breakfast table munching toast. There, he looked much better, she told herself. Ignoring the sound of Hamish's tread on the stair behind her, she fearlessly stood before Tarrant, took a deep breath and announced,
"Hamish says that your elder brother is in prison for murder and that you have yourself killed a man. Tell me right now that this cannot possibly be true," she demanded. His eyes were ringed with circles that matched the ones on her face from her own mostly sleepless night.
Tarrant's eyes widened, and he tried to rise from the breakfast table but again his grace deserted him and he fumbled, his legs catching against the tabletop while he struggled to push his chair back. His mouth was open, an expression of horror painting his face an agonized ash grey. Tarrant gaped at her soundlessly. A sharp gasp behind her reminded Allice that they had an audience for this exchange. Alice waited for his impassioned denial, tears pricking her eyes as the seconds ticked by and she realized that none was forthcoming.
"No." Her word was firm, but Hamish was already pulling her away by the wrist. Tears streamed silently down her face. It seemed like the house had exploded, and she had been deafened in the blast. Alice could hear the sound from the words others were speaking, but they were muffled and she could not take the meanings in properly. Hamish was spewing out vitriol about Tarrant having trapped Alice into living with him, using her unfortunate circumstances against her. Mally was shrieking back at Hamish, calling him terrible names and threatening to rip him apart. Nivens was there also, practically crying, shrinking back from Hamish and his terrible shield of arrogance.
Thackery rushed in from outside, the commotion having drawn him from his work in the garden, and seeing his friend in such distress ran to Tarrant's side. He cast a quick glance at Alice and understanding seemed to reach him. Hamish had practically dragged through the front room to the door at this point, but she had one last flicker of hope that Thackery would sort it all. Instead of sparing another look for her though, he was slapping Tarrant's cheeks, trying to get a reaction.
"Stay wi' me," Thackery was shouting over the chaos.
And then Alice was out of the house and being pulled into a waiting cab that Hamish had somehow managed to procure. The sobs wracked her body and as much as she wanted to blame Hamish for his horrible handling of the situation all she could do was cry and allow him to pat her back worriedly.