Chapter Four

Mrs Goodrem was a round woman, not quite chubby, but obviously on the path to rotundity. She had red cheeks and a cheerful smile, and she wore a torn apron. Mrs Goodrem clutched a baby as she opened the cottage door for Harriet. "Come in, come in," she urged immediately. "It's obvious who you are, but I shall ask all the same – Harriet?"

Harriet smiled, relieved. Driving for hours alone was not as exciting as she had imagined it, and it allowed her terrible imagination to conjure up all sorts of horrible fates, one of which was the non-existence of Connie Goodrem. "Very pleased to meet you, ma'am," she said, shaking the other woman's outstretched hand.

"None of that, none of that," the other replied. "I am never ma'am, or even Mrs Goodrem. It's Connie I'm known as by all, and if you try to call me anything else I shan't realise you're talking to me. Not very genteel, I suppose, but then, I am not precisely genteel."

Harriet laughed. "Nor I, Connie. John sends his warmest regards."

"Ah, sweet John," Connie smiled. "Did he tell you what he did for me?"

"I don't think so."

"Then come in, and I shall tell you. By the by, this is my youngest, Penny," she said, ruffling the baby's hair. "And there are two more, and I'm expecting. Please don't let them overwhelm you; they are very boisterous."

"I don't mind noise," said Harriet, and followed Connie inside.

"Take a seat, Harriet," Connie said, pulling a little boy off one. "This is Miss Stevenson, Johnny, and she's going to stay with us for several nights. Mind you be good?" Johnny giggled and ran away. Connie sighed, and turned to Harriet. "How was your journey?"

"Oh, it was bearable," said Harriet. "A little long for my liking, all by myself. I become bored easily in situations like that. Forgive me; how did John help you?"

"Oh, in much the same way as he helped you," Connie said. "It may not seem so from the house and my appearance and all – and I'm sorry for the house not being the type you must be used to – but I am the daughter of a baronet. I fell in love with a farmer near our home, and my father obviously would not allow the match. John, well," she blushed, "John happened to fall in love with me, and he popped the question, and I told him I could not, on account of Thomas – that's the farmer I was in love with. Well, he could tell I was miserable not being able to marry Thomas, and he organised an elopement for us, and even sold us this farmland – all because he wanted to make sure I was happy. He is a very good man. So you see, he has a penchant of sorts for interfering with matrimony."

Harriet was smiling. "He never told me."

"Yes, I don't think he would. It's not his way to gloat," said Connie. "Tom and I named the boy after him, and he was very pleased."

"Is your husband working in the fields at the moment?"

Connie looked uncomfortable. "No. Tom died a few months ago."

"I am very sorry," said Harriet. "Then how do you live now? – forgive me for being curious."

"It's perfectly fine," said Connie. She hesitated. "Well, because we own land, the children became wards of the state. John bought them back, and he helps pay our expenses – it's only until we've sorted out our affairs and got a reliable farmer and so on, mind. I would feel a right scrounge if I allowed him to pay for everything." She laughed. "Do you mind if I change the subject? Forgive me for asking – where are you going when you leave here?"

Harriet paused, and felt her stomach sink back from interested-slash-comfortable down to that oh-no-what-am-I-going-to-do feeling. "I'm not exactly sure," she said slowly.

"Not exactly sure," repeated Connie, a worried look on her face.

"Well, I'm have all my savings with me, and I have several plans. I will probably stay at an inn for a while and try to make some rich friends. If that doesn't work, I may become a governess or something for some time. Oh, I have hundreds of plans whirling around in my head, Connie, don't look so worried. I just need some time to sort them out. If the worst comes to the worst, I have an aunt I can go to. I'm sure she will help me."

Connie smiled. "I'm glad of that. I just hope you'll take care of yourself. I know you've not quite enjoyed living at home for the last few years-"

"For my whole life, more accurately," muttered Harriet.

Connie continued, undaunted. "-but despite your aversion to the place, I know it has been a very safe place, and even if the people have been boring, they are good, decent people. They would never try to trick you, or rob you, or hurt you in anyway. The whole world is not like that. I should know, Harriet."

"Yes, I know," admitted Harriet grudgingly. The interesting thing was her mother and father had always tried to tell her the same thing, but hearing it from Connie was so different. They sat quietly for a while. "Connie?"

"Yes?"

"I think I will change my name."

"Good idea, Harriet. Have you any ideas?"

"Yes," said Harriet. "I think I will be ... Alexandra." She spoke the name in a whisper, almost as if it were something magical.

Connie laughed. "You've been imagining yourself with that name all your life, have you not?"

Harriet grinned. "Well, 'Harriet Stevenson' is not exactly romantic."

"Quite right," agreed Connie. "What about your surname?"

"Hmm," said Harriet. She thought for some minutes, and she thought when Connie got up to go and wake her middle child Emma, and she thought while Connie cooked dinner. "Wells," she announced as they sat down to eat.

"Pardon me?" asked Connie through a mouthful of beans.

"Wells," she said again. "I shall be Alexandra Wells."

"Lovely!" said Connie approvingly. "That name evokes pictures. I can see it all now – beautiful, mysterious heiress. Aloof but playful, in a sense. Eats rich food like fruit cake and plum pudding. Wears velvet dresses of red and forest green. Men cannot resist her. That is a perfect name."

Harriet laughed. "Thank you. I must say I quite like it myself. From now on I shall be..."she lowered her voice to a sultry whisper, "Alexandra... Alexandra Wells."

Harriet stayed with Connie and her children for a week. She had never had so much fun in her life. She learnt to milk cows, she spent long afternoons playing hide-and-seek with Johnny and Emma, she helped Connie cook – a chore she had always thought would be strenuous and a bore, but which she actually enjoyed a lot. There was something very satisfying about creating a dish, and then sitting down and enjoying it. After the children had gone to bed at night, Harriet and Connie would sit up and laugh and eat home-made fudge and discuss world affairs.

As the astute reader may have noticed, she was still Harriet to Connie and the children. She could hardly be called Alexandra Wells while she rolled about in hay and fed the pigs. And anyway, she found that Alexandra was a very nice name, but not something she was quite used to, and she decided to stay Harriet for now, at least.

Despite the wonderful time she was having, Harriet knew she would have to leave at some point, and that it would be sooner rather than later. There was no doubt that Connie loved having her, and that she would happily keep her on, but Harriet's conscience was starting to prick, and she decided to be off soon before she could change her mind.

The children were sad when Harriet packed her bags and brought out the black cloak again and got the curricle ready for a journey. She was heading for an inn not far away from London. She didn't know what she was going to do once she ran out of money to stay there. Maybe she would go and visit Aunt Elizabeth – what a surprise that would give her aunt! But she did not want to have to do that unless she had to. Aunt Elizabeth was very kind and funny, but her parents would probably expect her to go in that direction, and also, Aunt Elizabeth may not exactly approve of keeping her location hidden.

She hugged Connie tightly, the morning she left, and thanked her very warmly.

"You know you can always come back if you're in any trouble?" asked Connie seriously.

"Yes, Connie, and thank you."

"I'll miss you, Harriet," said Connie, suddenly throwing her arms around the slight girl, a tear pricking at the corner of her eye. "You'll be in my prayers every morning and every night."

"Thank you, Connie," mumbled Harriet, trying not to succumb to tears either.

It was growing darker as Harriet's curricle trundled along an increasingly identical-seeming road, about four hours after she had left Kembrook. Harriet was desperately bored, mumbling half-learnt poems to herself, singing quietly to what sounded suspiciously like beer-drinking tunes, and finally doing absolutely nothing – simply gazing blankly at the horse's head and the road ahead. She had the hood pulled up over her head again, as it was getting colder – she did not really expect to see anyone looking for her on this road, a few weeks after she had run away.

Suddenly! A bang! Three horses came galloping towards her, holding rifles in the air. They had fired above the curricle and now pulled up in front of the curricle, their weapons levelled upon Harriet. All at once she was awake, tense and wondering what she should do.

"Stand and deliver!" shouted one of the three masked men in a high-pitched squeak, gesturing with his gun. He was obviously nervous. "Come on! Hop out of the cab! And no funny business."

The languor of the man beside him suggested a total opposite approach to plunder on the King's highway. One could almost suppose from the way he sat and moved that he was rolling his eyes at the other man. But he said nothing.

"How dare you," said Harriet, scowling, and standing up slowly.

"Oi!" cried the first man. "I said, no funny business!"

"Oh, for Pete's sake, Ned!" said the third man, a tall, strong-looking man. "He's just obligingly getting out of his vehicle for you, twit. Leave him be."

The humour of this statement from someone who had just accosted her and was very likely going to steal all her possessions struck Harriet at once. She giggled. He looked at her with a slight smile, but returned to training his gun on her. "What have you got on you, sir?" he said, politely enough.

"Not much," said Harriet, trying to keep her voice indistinct.

The second man sat up a little straighter. "Would you please pull back your hood, sir?"

Harriet hesitated.

"Pull back your hood," he said again, imperiously.

"Oh, for goodness' sake, don't order me about," she said angrily, and pulled back her hood. The three men were silent for about three seconds.

"Oh begad, it's a lady!" cried Ned. "What are we going to do?"

"Shut your face, Ned," said the languid one, looking at Harriet closely. "We apologise for harassing you, ma'am, and of course will allow you to go on your way unharmed – and not deprived of any of your possessions."

Harriet smiled. "What if I will not let you go?"

The third man stifled a laugh. "You may not have a choice, miss."

Harriet's eyes flashed. "If you had an ounce of honour and gentility, you would turn yourself in at the nearest village in shame for taking advantage of a poor woman so."

"Well, we didn't know you was a woman," said Ned.

"You didn't know!" steamed on Harriet. "That is no excuse whatsoever! Why, if I had any decency whatsoever, I would pull out the gun that is in my pocket right now and shoot all three of you, and rid England of desperate criminals who deserve to be shot!"

"Why don't you then, ma'am?" asked the languid one smoothly.

Harriet smiled. "I rather like the thought of highwaymen," she said candidly. "I didn't know any existed."

His lip curled, as the third man started to laugh. "Well well," he said, smiling still. "Admirable."

"Miss," said the third man, recovered from his brief attack of laughter, "what are you doing here?"

"Whatever it is, she can't be up to any good," said the second man dryly, before unbending swiftly and collapsing into tears of laughter with the other two before Harriet's amazed eyes.

"I am running away," said Harriet calmly, as they finished.

"What from?" asked the third man disapprovingly.

"Marriage," she yawned. "Now, will you perhaps be so good as to let me pass?"

"No, I will not!" cried the third man, sitting up tall in the saddle. "What, a young slip like you, riding around the country free as a lark? Something terrible could happen! Ned here nearly shot you simply for standing up!"

Harriet turned to the second man. "Pray, will you please ask your friend to move?"

He was staring at her still, his hand on his chin thoughtfully. "I have a plan."

"Excuse me, gentlemen, but did you hear what I just asked you?" said Harriet.

"I have a plan, ma'am," he repeated.

"What is it?" she said reluctantly, tapping her pocket watch and sighing.

"You can come with us," he said. "We'll be your guardians. Do you have anywhere to go?" There was a pregnant pause. "No, I thought not. I will be your brother, Ned your groom and William here your uncle. Or something like that. You can assist us in our.. ahem... work."

"That's insane," said Harriet, trying to sound scornful but only managing to sound overly excited.

For the first time, the second man grinned, and Harriet wondered who he was. "Of course it is. Are you coming?"