The wanton princess rb-8

by Dennis Wheatley

  The relief Roger felt was beyond description. He looked round in vain for Georgina; she and Jenny had left the Court. His father, his friends and many of his acquaintances who had been present during the trial crowded round to congra­tulate him on the verdict. But he was not allowed to depart a free man.

  Within a few minutes he was re-arrested, spent the night in a cell and. the following morning, was arraigned before the same Judge on a charge of manslaughter. The evidence of the manner in which John Beefy had met his death was again given, without Georgina having to be called on. A new jury retired and returned within ten minutes; their verdict being 'Guilty'.

  The Judge looked at Roger with a frown and said severely, 'By the statutes of the land duelling is a crime. Armed assault is a still more serious one. That you were drunk is no excuse for having used a weapon, and the public must be protected from persons who resort to violence. Your intem­perate act led to the death of a man who was attempting to prevent you from continuing an illegal conflict. For that I sentence you to three years' imprisonment.'

  13

  The Terrible Betrayal

  As Roger had not been convicted of housebreaking, coining or any other felony of that kind he had not been condemned to hard labour, so was to serve his sentence in Guildford Goal. His cell was on the first floor and contained a bed, table, chair and washstand. The regulations entitled him to see only one visitor, and send and receive only one letter a month; and the only amenity for passing the time was a dog-eared Bible.

  But in those days prisoners with money were allowed to have food sent in and nearly all officials, other than Judges, were habitually corrupt. The salaries paid to Prison Gover­nors were so small that, while they would not connive at escapes, they were usually willing to ameliorate the lot of prisoners in return for presents from the prisoners' friends; and during Roger's first week in prison he received visits from his father, Droopy Ned and Colonel Thursby.

  The Admiral cheered him greatly by saying that he meant to ask for an audience with the King and, in consideration of his own distinguished service in the Royal Navy, implore him to grant a pardon or, at least, a reduction of Roger's sentence.

  The Colonel depressed him by admitting to him with great reluctance that, although Georgina had given evidence that had saved his life at his first trial, she remained adamant in her determination not to forgive him for having killed her husband, and had now returned to Weymouth, where the Colonel was about to join her.

  Droopy, combining his foppish charm and his prestige as a wealthy noble with many powerful connections, had made a friend of the Governor. He had brought with him a present of a dozen cases of wine, which it was tacitly understood that the Governor should share with Roger, and had also obtained the concession that he should be supplied with writing materials and allowed to send out for books.

  Even with these privileges to solace his confinement the appalling fact remained that, should his father prove unsuccessful with the King, he would have to spend three of the best years of his life in prison; and to that was added the agonising knowledge that, being unable to have a full explanation with Georgina, there seemed little chance of healing the breach between them.

  Every morning he was taken out for an hour's exercise in the courtyard, but the remainder of the days dragged inter­minably. He had always enjoyed reading, but now that he had nothing else to do he lost his pleasure in it. At times he paced his cell restlessly, six paces towards the stout door with its great lock and six paces back towards the heavily-barred window. At others he lay on his bed for hours at a stretch, his thoughts vaguely wandering but returning again and again to what an incredible fool he had been not to have skipped his bail while he had had the chance; for he could easily have got away to France, and the loss of the money involved would have been a small price to pay for retaining his liberty.

  In the previous year the question of Catholic emancipation had had such a disturbing effect on King George's mind that soon after the fall of the Pitt government he had again become temporarily insane. His recovery had been much quicker than it had in '89, but it was still felt that he should be burdened only with a minimum of business. In consequcnce there were many delays before Admiral Sir Chris­topher Brook obtained his audience, and it was not until mid-July that the monarch received him at Kew. The fol­lowing day Sir Christopher came down to see Roger and, as gently as he could, broke to him the ill success of the interview.

  The King had received him kindly, exclaiming, 'Admiral Chris! Admiral Chris! What! What! 'Tis good to see you.' But when the Admiral had explained the reason for his visit, the King had taken a very different tone. 'Farmer George', as his subjects called him, was a rigorously moral man and abhorred all forms of violence. His now faulty memory of the case being reawakened he had become angry and flustered; then declared it to be his duty to protect his subjects from dangerous, drunken adulterers, and that Roger, having killed a good honest merchant, deserved to hang for it.

  That night Roger felt very low and wrote informing Droopy of his bitter disappointment. In his reply Droopy endeavoured to cheer him by saying that for some time past, apart from his set principles on religious matters, the King's attitude to many other questions often varied from day to day; so he thought it would be worth approaching him again, this time through the Duke of Portland who, after Pitt's retirement, had remained on as Home Secretary. But, Droopy added, the summer recess would soon be taking His Grace out of London and, in any case, it would be unwise to raise the subject again with His Majesty until he had had ample time to forget the Admiral's visit.

  Shortly after this Roger received a letter from Colonel Thursby. He said he thought Roger would like to know that Georgina had for the past few weeks again taken up her painting, so was in better spirits, and that he had now per­suaded her to accompany him on a visit to Paris. Having for so long been unable to visit the French capital, the English were now flocking there in great numbers and were being received in a most friendly spirit. There everything was now a l'anglais, and everything French was the latest mode in London. He was in great hopes that this complete change of scene would have entirely restored Georgina to her old self by the time they returned to Stillwaters in September.

  Roger also had some talent as an artist, although not approaching that of Georgina's, who had studied under both Reynolds and Gainsborough. The letter reminded him of his long-neglected hobby; and the Governor, who by then was doing very handsomely out of Droopy Ned, agreed to have some artists' materials bought for him.

  Now being able to occupy himself with sketching and painting as an alternative to reading, he somehow got through the remainder of July and the month of August. But having no model to sit for him, or landscape to copy other than the view from his window, which consisted of tree tops seen across the high prison wall, he found his painting from memory gave him little satisfaction, with the result that when September came in he was again desperately craving for freedom.

  After brooding on the matter for some days he decided that if the Duke of Portland failed to secure the King's clemency for him he must, somehow, escape and make his way back to France. Food and other things were bought for him out of a deposit he had arranged to be placed with the Governor, but he was not allowed to have any money; so it would not be possible for him to bribe one of his gaolers. They had, too, treated him decently; so he was very averse to attacking and attempting to overpower one of them and, even should he do so, his chances of getting clear of the prison would be small.

  The door of his cell was of stout oak and the lock much too strong to be forced. There remained only the window and, after much thought, he decided that he must adopt the classic method of sawing through a bar then lowering himself to the ground by a rope made out of his bedclothes. There remained the problem of getting over the fifteen-foot-high wall of the gaol; but in that it looked as if luck might favour him, as some workmen had recently started to renew the beams and roof of a large one-storey outbuilding that
was just within his view. If they were still working on it when he made his attempt he would be able to make use of their gear.

  That 'if was the crux of the matter; so he made up his mind to start work on the bar without delay. He had been allowed a penknife to sharpen his pencils for sketching and a small whetstone on which to sharpen the penknife. By breaking the whetstone so that it had a jagged edge he set about serrating the blade of the penknife until he had turned it into a small saw. It was a slow and finicky business and took him the best part of a week; but now he again had a worthwhile project to occupy his mind he felt much more cheerful.

  In the door of his cell there was a grill through which, only very occasionally, but at odd times, one of the gaolers looked in at him. While working on the penknife he had no difficulty in concealing what he was doing, by sitting, as usual, at his table with his back to the door. But to cut through one of the inch-thick iron bars to the window without being caught was a very different undertaking. He had now to control his impatience during the day and work during the night, and then only on nights when there was no moon or its light was obscured by cloud.

  To dig the ends of one of the bars out of the masonry with the tools at his disposal was clearly impossible, and making two cuts through a bar proved a most laborious task. But by the end of September he had cut both ends so that the bar was held in place only by a remaining eighth of an inch and had protected the cuts from detection by filling them with a mixture of black paint and soap.

  Now that Parliament was about to meet again for its autumn session he wrote to Droopy asking if the Duke of Portland had yet returned to London and if he had had any opportunity of approaching him. Droopy replied that he had seen the Duke a fortnight since, but had been so loath to inflict another disappointment on Roger that he had put off letting him know the result of the interview. His Grace, like the King, had been of the opinion that Roger had been lucky to escape a hanging, and had refused to intervene.

  To have walked out of the gaol a free man, or even to have had his sentence reduced to twelve months, would have been greatly preferable to taking all the risks that were attendant on an escape; but now that Roger's plans for the attempt were complete he was not unduly depressed by Droopy's reply; and as the builders in the yard were by then nearing the completion of their work he decided to chance his luck that very night.

  Soon after it was dark he put out his candles and set to work making a rope out of his sheets and blankets. When he had done he waited impatiently until midnight, by which time it was certain that, except for the gaoler on night duty, the staff of the prison would all be asleep. Exerting all his strength he wrenched at the bar he had sawn almost through until it snapped off at both ends. Having tied one end of his home-made rope to the bar above it and tested the knot by jerking on it as hard as he could, he wriggled painfully through the aperture feet first, clung precariously to the bar for a moment then shinned down to the ground.

  The moon was up but, except for brief intervals, its light was eclipsed by scudding clouds. For a few moments, in case anyone was still about, he listened intently. No sound reaching him other than the mewing of a prowling cat, he tiptoed across to the outbuilding that was being re-roofed. It took him half an hour of strenuous effort to assemble against the tall wall enough of the builders' material to surmount it. At the end of that time he was sitting astride its top, nerving himself for the drop down on the far side. Lowering himself cautiously until he was flat against the outer side of the wall, he clung for a moment with both hands to the coping. Hanging in that position he spanned its upper eight feet. There remained seven feet between his feet and the ground.

  Praying that he would not break an ankle or hit his head on a stone, he threw himself backwards. He landed with a thud that drove the breath from his body. For a minute he remained dazed then, suffering only from a bruised bottom and shoulders, scrambled to his feet.

  As he had stayed at Stillwaters so often he knew the district well, and had to cover only seven miles to the village of Ripley. Thinking it safer to keep off the road, he took a circuitous route along paths through the woods and, without having seen a soul, reached the silent, lightless mansion soon after three o'clock in the morning.

  He had made for it because the one thing he had to have to get to France was money—and a good round sum. Now that Britain and France were at peace anyone could cross by the packet for a few pounds; but he knew that before he could reach the coast the authorities in every port would have been warned to keep a lookout for him; so by far his best chance of getting over without risk of capture lay in being put across by one of his old smuggler friends and, running the risks they did, they expected a handsome payment.

  Colonel Thursby would, he felt sure, finance him but he dared not enter the house for fear that one of the servants would betray him; and the Colonel rarely left it except for his morning walk up and down the long terrace or an occasional visit to the hothouses. But Roger was confident that Georgina would not deny him the means to make his escape to France, and he had already thought out a way to make contact with her unseen by anyone else.

  She was a splendid horsewoman and at ten o'clock every morning, unless the weather was particularly inclement, she went for a ride of an hour or more. Her mount was always brought round to the front door by the groom who accom­panied her, but it was her custom always to ride it back to the stables where lumps of sugar and carrot were put handy for her to give the animal in its loose box.

  Walking with cautious tread Roger entered the stable yard. As he expected, the big watch dog kept there came out of its kennel and growled at him. But he knew the animal well and, with a few quiet words, quickly pacified it. Entering the end of the stable where Georgina's own riding horses were stalled, he went up the stairs at the end of the building to the loft above. A good part of it was filled with trusses of hay and straw. As some eight hours would elapse before Georgina was likely to come into the stable, he made himself up a comfor­table couch and, well satisfied with his night's achievement, went to sleep there.

  He woke soon after dawn and, lest one of the stable hands should come up to the loft, made a hiding place for himself among the bales, then sat down to await events with as much patience as he could muster. An hour later he heard the horses below him being led out to be watered. There was then another long wait until the time approached for Georgina to have her ride. He then took up a position at full length on the floor near an open hatch down which, the bales of fodder were lowered when required. By craning his neck he could see into three of the loose boxes. To his great satisfaction, shortly before ten o'clock a liveried groom led out a fine brown mare from one of the boxes.

  For another hour and a half he remained where he was, only occasionally easing the contact of his limbs against the hard floor. Then there came the clatter of hooves on the cobbles outside and, a few moments later, Georgina's well-loved voice speaking to her groom as she led her mare into the empty loose box.

  The groom had taken his mount to a box further along the stable, so Roger thrust his head out over the opening in the floor and said in a low voice, 'Hist! Georgina!'

  Looking up, she recognized him instantly. Her big black eyes widened and she exclaimed, 'Roger! What are you doing here?'

  'I've broken prison and I need your help,' he answered quickly. 'Come up, so that we can talk here unseen by others.'

  After a moment's hesitation she hitched her mount to the manger, thrust a carrot in the marc's mouth and came up the stairs.

  By then Roger was standing and he asked at once, 'Am I forgiven? I swear I never meant to harm him. I beg you say I am.'

  She halted well away from him. A frown darkened her lovely face, and her rich red lips took on a sullen expression. ' 'Tis well enough to say that now,' she replied coldly. 'But hard to believe. And all your protestations will not bring him back to me.'

  In a swift spate of words he began to plead with her, but she cut him short, 'You behaved like a drunke
n bully. To seize a sword in my house and force a fight upon Colonel Gunston in my presence was inexcusable. You may count yourself lucky that by perjuring myself I saved your life and you deserved every day of the sentence you received.'

  'Georgina, you're devilish hard on me,' he expostulated. 'That I behaved monstrous ill I do admit. But you must believe that my having killed John Beefy was an accident.'

  'I wish I could,' she answered, her eyes still fixed upon him stonily. 'But I know well your ruthless nature, and how you'll let nothing stand in the way of getting what you wish. How can you expect me to forget the way you spoke to me the night before you committed your heinous crime? With a selfishness that almost passes belief you urged me to let the man who meant so much to me go out of my life, simply that you might continue to visit Stillwaters when it was convenient to you. Seeing the many years we had been lovers I could do no less than save you from a hanging, but you cannot expect that my feelings for you should ever again be the same.'

  'So be it,' Roger shrugged wearily. 'But I stand here penniless. At least you will not deny me the sum I need to get back to France?'

  'How much do you require?'

  'I must go by subterranean means, else I'll stand a big risk of being caught. But a hundred guineas should sec me safely out of the country.'

  'I have not anywhere near that sum to hand here in the house.'

  'You could send in to your bank in Guildford for it. 'Twould take no more than a couple of hours. Meanwhile I can lie up here and be on my way again tonight.'

  Georgina nodded, 'I'll send in to Guildford then. Stay here until I come to you again.' Without the least softening of her expression she turned on her heel and left him.

  Sadly he sat down on a bale of straw to wait. Two hours drifted by. Thinking that time enough for someone to have ridden into Guildford and cashed a draft for her, he began to keep a look-out for her return through one of the low cob­webby windows that overlooked the yard. After a further twenty minutes he caught the sound of hoof-beats in the distance and thought it probable that they were made by her messenger cantering straight up to the house. Expecting that she would soon now come to him with the money he remained near the window, striving to collect all his powers of appeal for another attempt to soften her heart when she returned to him. A few minutes later he could hardly trust his eyes. Through the arched entrance to the stableyard emerged not Georgina, but her groom accompanied by the tipstaff and two constables.