Frederick was happy to point out the sights of Newcastle to his mother. Before her new life as daughter-in-law to the earl the only urban scene she had ever known was that of Cambridge. To see a northern town vibrant with industry on a river alive with sea-going vessels as well as coal barges was a new and exciting experience. Her head turned this way and that as the carriage horses struggled up the steep bank from the bridge and headed for the Pilgrim Gate into the Liberties.
Frederick was alert too to the people in the streets and as they rattled past the staging inn he sat up suddenly, making his mother look up and exclaim, “What is it?”
“I saw a man I know. I’m pretty certain it was he. A man I am wary of whom I last saw at Château Rombeau.” The carriage had slowed as a carrier’s cart turned in the street and, without letting himself be seen, he pointed out to his mother the tall figure of Edouard le Vent in conversation with a carrot-haired youth.
She chuckled, “He has very fine moustaches. Why do you not like him?”
“Deborah and I think he is a government agent on the look out for Jacobites.”
“Well, you are none so you don’t need to mind him.”
They were passed and on their way out into the country. He put the encounter behind him, overwhelmed now with the thought of seeing Deborah again. Not even Will Smyth’s comment as they turned into the gates of Horden Hall, “No lodge house, but a pleasant modest little mansion I see,” could diminish his joy.
“Oh and look at the stone statue of some ancestor,” his mother cried. “The flamboyant way he brandishes his sword! I like that.”
The whole family including John and Jeanetta and the babies greeted them. As he had expected his mother was instantly at ease with them all. Over the babies she cooed with delight. That is how she will be with ours, he thought. Pray God we can be soon blest with a child.
While his mother was being conducted to the best guest bedroom Deborah took him out to see the Branford carriage inserted into the carriage house and the extra stable that had been added for guests’ horses since his last visit.
“We won’t need it again I expect,” she said, “until the new earl and countess pay their next visit. I wonder when that will be.”
“You won’t have too much heartache at leaving here?” he pleaded.
“Some, but it will be overlaid by the thrill of my new position, not the finery but the duties.”
He pressed her arm tucked in with his. In the next breath he was exclaiming, “That’s odd. I saw that lad with Edouard le Vent in Newcastle as we came through.”
A carrot-haired youth was hesitating at the open back door.
He felt Deborah stiffen in alarm. “Le Vent! In Newcastle!” She drew away and marched up to the lad. “What do you want?”
He looked up at her startled by her height and tone of voice. “Please, my lady, I’m to hand this to Master John Wilson Horden and no one else.” He was holding up a paper and looking at Frederick, evidently wondering if he was the man.
“That’s all right. I’ll give it to him.” She took it from his grasp and stepped back to hand it to Frederick. “Do you expect payment?” she said as the boy paused open-mouthed.
“Nay, I’m paid already.” And he ran off round the house.
“John was to return to the Grange before dinner,” Frederick said, “but we might catch him before he goes. Shall I take it?” He looked up and saw her shaking her head. Her face was suddenly quite grey with anxiety.
“No, indeed. This worries me sorely. Let us see what it says.”
“You’ll open it up?” He was quite horrified at the idea of intercepting someone else’s letter.
“There’s no seal. It’s just a paper folded together. Why should John receive a message from le Vent? This confirms all the fears that have haunted me since we were in France. Maybe this is a warning to John that le Vent knows he has had dealings with Jacobites.”
“But why would he warn him? Why would he not arrest him straight away if he thought that?” Frederick was watching her fingers itching to open up the paper.
“That is what I would like to find out.” And then she did unfold it, turning it inside out and upside down. “There is nothing on it at all!” She handed it to him and he examined it carefully, holding it so that the sunlight shone on it.
“There is a tiny monogram in one corner – ELV.”
They stared at each other. “What can it mean?” she said. “Is it a magician’s ink that will shine in the dark?”
The grooms had dispersed from their duties so they took the paper into the dimmest recesses of the carriage house but still nothing appeared on the paper.
“You’ll have to give it to John I suppose,” he said. “Maybe he will understand that a blank sheet means no news of any sort.”
She stood still and looked solemnly down at him. “Do you realise what you are implying by that remark?”
“That John and le Vent are hand in glove. John is also secretly working for the government?”
“Or that le Vent is secretly working for the Jacobites? Oh Frederick, I fear that more. John would never work to catch or entrap the rebels. He has always professed his loyalty to the Stuarts.”
“To pull the wool over your eyes perhaps?”
“No, never, never. He could not dissemble all his childhood and right up to the present. You remember his visit to Saint Germain? But le Vent! He is capable of anything. He could have infiltrated the Jacobites only to betray them at the last minute.”
“Will you confront John then when you take him the paper?”
“I am not thinking of taking it to him. Le Vent doesn’t know that John is now living at Nether Horden Grange. We have an advantage in that the messenger almost certainly believes that you are John Horden. If le Vent sends again we have a chance to intercept it and find out what is going on. I will not have John’s folly upsetting our wedding plans. If we can save him from some mad enterprise it will be all the better for him too. I have such a sickening feeling that something could still prevent our marriage.”
“We will not let that happen. We are both here and in health and the church and the parson are ready. All the same” – Frederick stroked his chin – “perhaps it is my lawyer’s training that makes me mighty uneasy at the idea of interfering with another’s correspondence.”
She shook her head. “No, it is your utter integrity. I admire it, I applaud it and would always share it – except this once. I will be watching John and will keep an eye out for any further messages.”
“That will be hard amidst our wedding preparations and with John not living in the Hall.”
“I’ll try. If John was expecting a message he may come inquiring for one. Then I may have to force a confession from him. Last summer he rode round the county. I wondered at the time what he was up to. I even voiced my suspicions to Father but he poohpoohed the idea. Oh Frederick! If this is all true that he is part of a rebel plot I feel ashamed of him, not so much for his passion but for the lies he has had to tell. And you! You will not want to ally yourself with one who might be arrested as a traitor any time. I am afraid that all our joy is to be undermined. It was too good to be true. I never did deserve such happiness. I was not a loving, understanding sister to John and now he will not care if he destroys my life.”
She clung to Frederick and he found her weakness filling him with strength and love. “You are mine whatever happens. Nothing can take that away.”
Peter came out of the house. “There you are, my lord. Sir DDaniel wants to walk over with you to the G-Grange where we are to stay. Jo has taken our luggage there by c-c-cart. It’s a m-mile by the road but they’ve lately had a p-path c-cut through the w-wood which is not above six m-minutes.”
“Very well. I’ll come. You did well to get all that out, Peter.” He pressed Deborah’s hands. “I will be close to John. I understand your concerns. I’ll keep alert.”
As he walked through the sultry woodland with Sir Daniel Frederick was uncom
fortable. He had wanted nothing to disturb a pleasant relationship with his new family. The knowledge he now had of a mysterious liaison between his future brother-in-law and the sinister le Vent troubled his innate openness and honesty. What could a blank missive really mean? If it meant no news, why send at all?
He found the wing of the Grange spacious enough for his needs and for Will, Peter and Joseph, with horses in the stables for them if they wanted to ride out. Will met him in the dressing-room to the largest bedroom, looking into the wood.
“Not what you are used to, my lord, but it’s only for two weeks.”
“On the contrary, Will, I shared a bedroom smaller than this all my childhood with my mother’s two brothers.” He couldn’t resist teasing Will with such memories. Now that he had succeeded to the title Will wanted to treat him with even more deference. Mischievously Frederick, and his mother too, enjoyed frustrating him.
“I have set out clean linen for you to change after the journey, my lord,” was all Will said by way of answer.
Through the walls they could hear both young Nathaniel and baby Diana howling.
“I trust that will not occur too often, my lord.”
John was increasingly desperate for news from le Vent as the wedding day drew near. The news sheets reported nothing of French troops gathering at a channel port but surely the expedition must be setting sail soon. Lord Branford was very affable with him whenever they met in the Grange or the Hall but his anxiety cast a wedge between himself and the wedding preparations which made him stiff and nervous in his presence.
The wedding was only three days off and he was to see the tailor from Newcastle who was to supervise the final fitting of his wedding suit. Lord Branford had purchased his in London but two of the gold knots at the hem of the coat had suffered in the packing and unpacking.
“If you are seeing him, John, he might as well put these right for me.”
Everywhere I go, John thought, Branford seems to be there. He’s always so deuced friendly too. My hope is that the wedding will be over and he and Deb will be gone before the summons from le Vent comes. I won’t see her this morning. She’s having the last fitting of her wedding gown. We are to see the tailor in the library. I must try and find out if any message has come for me to the Hall and not been sent round. This is what I feared when Louis’ plan was put off till spring and Deb’s wedding too.
He walked in silence beside Frederick as they set off on the path through the woods. They had not gone far before he glimpsed a gleam of coppery red hair through the trees.
“Hello. Is there a stranger coming? We have no red-heads at Horden.”
“Red!” Lord Branford exclaimed. “Ah I see him. I’ll chase him away. Must be an intruder.”
John was astonished at Frederick’s agitation and the sudden bound with which he ran towards the figure that now appeared on the path, a carrot-haired youth.
“What’s up? He looks harmless enough,” John called out, following him.
Frederick had taken from the boy what looked like a letter and the boy, seeming frightened, had run away not by the path but through the wood.
John stood still, struck by a terrible thought. Hewas the one expecting a message and it would come by a stranger. Why had Frederick grabbed it? He leapt forward.
“Is that not for me? Give it to me.”
He was astonished to see that Frederick had opened it up and was rapidly scanning it. He put it behind his back as John confronted him.
“Surely that is mine.”
“There was no name. The messenger handed it to me.”
“You snatched it.”
“John, I beg you.” Lord Branford’s agitation was intense. “Do not ask to see this. It is best you know nothing of it. Let us proceed quietly to the Hall to see the tailor. The wedding is in three days’ time.”
John was now absolutely certain it was the long awaited call. Nothing was going to rob him of this. He had waited all his life for this moment.
“Damn your wedding! That letter is mine.” He tried to reach round the little earl for it but he turned, dodging him.
John drew back his fist and clouted him on the jaw. It was a wild movement but so sudden that it knocked Frederick clean off his feet. John was onto him at once and wrenched his arm behind his back. His hand was gripping the letter so tightly that it tore as John snatched it away. But the moment he had most of it he turned to run, just glancing back to see Frederick staggering to his feet.
I’ll hit him again if he tries to stop me, he told himself as he reached the stables behind the Grange and saw Matt emerging in surprise at the noise of the commotion. “Saddle both our mounts. The call has come,” he yelled at him.
“Right, yes sir. Oh, but what about the wedding?”
“We’ll miss it. This is the king’s work.”
“Sir!”
As he said it John bethought him to look at what there was of the paper in his hand. There might be a mistake and he would look an unutterable fool. Frederick was approaching with wavering steps. John cast his eye over what lines he could see.
‘Where have you been? I sent you the blank.’ Then there was a tear and the end of the line below said ‘delayed by measles’ – that was what it looked like. But the tear had ripped the first part of the next line which ended ‘can still come.’
His thoughts galloped. I can still go then. Le Vent must be desperate to have written this not in code. But why did I not get the blank message? Ah, it came, but Branford stopped it! He recognised that boy. Or Deborah has suspected me all along and put him up to it. Curse them both.
He had reached the Grange back door which led straight into the kitchen. He could see Will Smyth there and crates of wine in the centre of the floor. While Matt was saddling the horses he must get to Jeanetta and grab some clothes and weapons – his sword and a pistol. He dodged round the wine crates. There came a squawk from Will Smyth and the floor opened beneath his feet. He had fallen through the open trap door into the dungeon.
Frederick, panting in, met a horrified Will Smyth. “My lord, Master Horden came rushing in and before I could warn him he fell down the hole. We had just brought up the wedding wine.” Frederick saw Peter and Joseph, their faces aghast, peering over the piled up crates.
Frederick looked into the vault. There was a lit lantern still down there and he saw John spread-eagled on the last three stone steps opposite him. He had fallen forward onto them, hands outstretched. But now he was scrambling to his feet at the bottom, gasping for breath. He was winded, that was all. He turned right round and saw Frederick looking down.
“You did this,” he breathed. “But you’ll not stop me.” Now the steps were behind him and he flapped his hands about, looking for them.
Frederick saw the trap door lying on the far side of the hole. “Joseph, Peter, Will, push it over. Be sharp.” And to John he called down. “Cool yourself there awhile.”
The men were staring at him. He stepped round the hole. “I order you. Close it.” He bent down to it himself.
Then Will said, “Your chin? You’ve been fighting, my lord.”
“He attacked me. He’s to have a short punishment.”
They all pushed then with a will and the heavy door ground its way over the stone floor and banged into place, but not before they heard John’s furious yell.
“What are doing? Let me out!”
Frederick straightened up. He was shaking. Will Smyth led him to a kitchen chair. He sat down. They heard a hammering on the trap door.
“I don’t think he can move it but put two crates over it. And give me a glass of brandy if you please. He is not to be released without my say-so. Do you all hear?”
They nodded solemnly. Their faces showed that they were flabbergasted at their master’s behaviour, so out of character.
At that moment Matt appeared at the back door. “The horses are ready.” He looked about and saw only alien faces. “Where’s Master John?”
“The horses wil
l not be needed today.” Lord Branford took a sip of the brandy and spoke in a commanding voice. “You may unsaddle them and return them to the stables.”
“I only take orders from Master John.”
“You will not be receiving any today.”
“You’ll not stop him from serving his king.”
He had become aware of the banging from below. “God in heaven! You’ve not thrown him into the dungeon?”
“He fell in, but he is staying there and there will be a guard on him.”
Nurse Capot, the young and almost pretty nurse, came in the other door from the hallway. She was cradling baby Diana who was wailing.
“What all the noise? Baby waken.” She at least had learnt some English. “Who make banging?”
Lord Branford turned to her. “Take the baby back to bed. There will be no more noise. Is your mistress up there?”
“She trying on dress.”
“I will not trouble her now but I will wish to speak with her later.” She hesitated a moment but the habit of obedience was strong. She slipped away.
He looked back at Matt standing pugnaciously at the door.
“I told you to unsaddle the horses.”
“Master John will kill you for this. He’ll never ever forgive you, that’s certain. And neither will I, my lord.”
Will Smyth drew himself up to his full height and breadth and confronted him at the door. “How dare you speak to his lordship like that? If I report you to Sir Daniel he will dismiss you on the spot.”
“I will tell him you have all conspired to imprison his son and he will send youall packing. There will be no wedding.”
Matt turned and strode away down the path.
Frederick took another sip of brandy to control the shaking. He had never been involved in such a scene in his life. He had never taken such a sudden rash decision. His jaw ached and now he realised that his three men were staring at him inquiringly.
Will Smyth, with the utmost respect in his voice, asked, “There is more in this than Master John attacking you, my lord. What did that ruffian Matthew mean by ‘his king’?”
“He meant King James or rather the aspiring King James. You three must not mention this outside the family. I fear John Horden was caught up in some Jacobite plot which must even now be afoot somewhere. For his own sake I had to stop him.” He realised he had put in his pocket the scrap of paper he had been clutching. He took it out and uncreased it and studied it. The tear had left him the bottom end of the message but included the beginnings of two lines above. These read ‘KJ was’ and ‘so you’. Then there was the whole of the last line: ‘Meet by the F of F.’ and the letters ELV. There was vital information here which government forces should know but just for the moment he felt too sick with apprehension about what Matt was saying in the Hall at this moment to bring his mind to bear on that question. Nothing must stop his wedding to Deborah.
Prue Phillipson - Hordens of Horden Hall Page 24