The King’s Mistress. Gillian Bagwell

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СКАЧАТЬ TO see a man hastening to the kitchen door. She recognised him as one of the five surviving Penderel brothers, who lived in and around Whiteladies and served the Giffard family at Boscobel, a few miles away in the woods of Shropshire. The family had fought for the king, and a sixth brother had been killed at the Battle of Edgehill. Jane saw John slip out to the stables with the man, and a few minutes later she heard his footsteps on the stairs. He put a finger to his lips imploring her silence as she opened her door to him.

      “John Penderel’s just come from Whiteladies. Colonel Ashenhurst was there last night with a party of soldiers. They’d been told that the king was at the house, and they tore the place apart and used Charles Giffard very roughly.”

      “Dear God,” Jane whispered, closing the door and leaning against it in alarm. “The king wasn’t there, was he?”

      “No,” John said, sinking onto a chair. “But it maddened them not to find him. A soldier captured after Worcester had led them there, and they beat him badly. They have the scent of the king now, and will hunt until they find him. And look at this.” He dug a folded paper out of his pocket. “It’s being distributed to every parish in England.”

      Jane stared at the broadsheet, headed “A Reward of a Thousand Pounds for the Capture of the Traitor Charles Stuart”. A cloud covered the sun outside, and she felt a cold shadow of fear pass over her heart.

      “Then we had best get him out while we can,” she said.

      “Jane, are you sure?” John came to her side and they stood looking out the window. In the yard below, a servant trundling a barrow of barley towards the brew house stopped to exchange words with one of the grooms, and their laughter drifted upward.

      “Yes,” Jane said. “Yes. We cannot turn back now.”

      “Very well. Then Lord Wilmot and Whitgreaves will bring him here tonight, and you’ll set off in the morning.”

      Jane suddenly wondered when she would return. Maybe with things so unsettled at home she would not linger at Abbots Leigh as she had thought, but return as soon as Ellen’s baby was born.

      “Another thing,” John said. “We must keep this between ourselves and Henry now.”

      “Doesn’t Father know?”

      “He knows about Wilmot’s horses. He may suspect more, but he hasn’t asked and I’ve told him nothing. Nor Mother or Athalia either.” John’s face was grim. “And better we leave it at that. They cannot be forced into betraying information they do not have.”

      “Forced?” The image of her aged father and mother brutalised by Cromwell’s men rose to Jane’s mind, and that gave her pause as nothing else had done.

      “They’re desperate now to find the king. I know some of these men and I’d like to think they’d use our people civilly, but we cannot count on that.”

      “Then Mother and Father shall know nothing,” Jane agreed.

      THAT AFTERNOON FATHER JOHN HUDDLESTON ARRIVED ON FOOT looking harried and shaken. John ushered him into Thomas’s little study, nodding to Jane to follow them. As it was a capital offence to be a practising Catholic priest, Huddleston was dressed in the coat and breeches of a country gentleman. He was young and sturdily built, and Jane recalled that he had fought in the wars under the Duke of Newcastle, following in the footsteps of his grandfather, who with eight brothers had raised two regiments for the first King Charles.

      Huddleston waited until John had shut the door behind them before he spoke.

      “Southall the priest catcher was just at Moseley with a troop of soldiers.”

      “The king?” Jane and John spoke at once.

      “Is hidden yet.” Huddleston’s voice was barely above a whisper. “The officers accused old Mr Whitgreaves of having been at Worcester, but neighbours gathered and attested that he had never left home. The soldiers were out of humour at having been misinformed, and beat some men who stood up to them.” The priest’s brown eyes were hot with anger.

      “Did they not search the house?” Jane asked.

      “Mr Whitgreaves did a wise thing. Upon hearing that the soldiers were coming, he opened all the doors of the house to show he had nothing to hide. They searched anyway, but found nothing. One of them promised an ostler working in the stable yard he should have a thousand pounds if he could tell where the king was.”

      “Oh, no.” Jane could barely breathe.

      “He didn’t know the king was there,” Huddleston said. “And he might not have told if he did.”

      “But the offer of so great a reward may prove too terrible a temptation for some poor soul,” John said. “Every moment increases the danger.”

      “And the soldiers?” Jane asked, looking from Huddleston to her brother. “Will they come here now?”

      “We must be prepared,” John said.

      WORD OF THE EVENTS AT WHITELADIES AND MOSELEY SPREAD, AND at supper the entire household seemed on edge, though no soldiers had appeared to search for the king. Jane was lost in thoughts of the next day’s journey and did not at first hear Withy speaking to her.

      “Do you hear me, Jane?” Withy repeated, rapping Jane’s wrist sharply with her spoon. “We’ve decided to leave with you in the morning.”

      “What?” Jane put her wine glass down hard, sloshing a few drops onto the tablecloth. “I thought you weren’t going home until next week?”

      “We hadn’t planned to,” Withy said, shaking her head and dabbing at the spilled wine with her napkin. “But after these past days I’d rather be at home, and I’d prefer the safety of travelling in company than taking to the road on our own.” She speared a piece of meat from her plate and popped it into her mouth.

      Jane’s heart sank. Setting off with the fugitive king disguised as a tenant farmer’s son would be difficult enough without Withy travelling along, sure to stick her nose where it had no business. What could she say to dissuade them? She cast a glance at Henry, listening from across the table. He seemed to read her mind.

      “If I were you, John Petre,” he said to Withy’s husband, “I’d hold off a few days before taking your wife abroad. By then Cromwell’s men are sure to be fewer on the ground, and the roads will be safer.”

      “That’s true,” Jane said.

      Withy’s husband opened his mouth to speak, but Withy cut in. “Then why don’t you wait?”

      Jane could think of no answer and flushed in consternation, and to her annoyance, a knowing smile crept over Withy’s red face.

      “Maybe Jane is in such a hurry because she plans to elope,” she simpered to the table. “It’s not Ellen Norton but some lover she’s riding off to!”

      Her scornful laugh made it only too clear that she considered the idea ridiculous, and Jane bit her lip to keep from flying out at her sister with angry words.

      “Nonsense. Of course it’s Ellen I’m going to see. How could it be otherwise with Henry along? I would delay my travel myself did not Ellen expect me every СКАЧАТЬ