“Yes,” said Edwin. “I guessed it would be tricky there for more than a night or two. It will be a relief when he is with Harriet.”
We were all rather subdued, and as soon as supper was over Leigh went out again. I overheard one of the servants say: “Master Leigh’s no sooner in than out.”
“He’s got his lady to see to. She’s been without while he’s been with his mother.”
“If it’s her I think it is she wouldn’t have been without altogether … only without Master Leigh.”
There followed giggles which annoyed me. But I had to curb my irritation. I wanted to say: It is not a mistress he is visiting tonight. But how foolish that would be. Leigh’s reputation had served us well during this affair, but at the same time I felt irritated that he had it—and more so because I was well aware that he deserved it.
I was watching at my window for his return. It must have been an hour or so after midnight when he came in. I had to know what had happened. I slipped on a cloak over my nightdress, put on slippers and ran down to the hall. He came in quietly. The moon—now waning—gave a little light through the tall, narrow windows.
“Leigh!”
“So it’s you.”
“I had to know.”
“All’s well,” he said. “I got the horse and he’s now on his way. If he’s careful there shouldn’t be any mishaps. He’s assumed his new identity—onetime child actor, John Frisby, on his way to see his old friend, Lady Stevens, who played with him in the past. Once he’s in Harriet’s charge all will be well.”
“Thank God,” I said fervently.
I had put up my hand to hold my cloak about me, and Leigh said: “You have a new ring. I haven’t seen that before. It looks like a signet ring and it’s too big for your hand.”
I hesitated, then I said: “Jocelyn gave it to me after … after the scare.”
“Jocelyn! May I see it?”
I took it off and showed it to him.
“It’s a signet. That’s the Frintons’ crest. You can’t wear that.”
“Why not? I want to.” I snatched it from him. “He gave it to me.”
“Then he must be mad, the careless fool! What if it were discovered with you! Don’t you understand? People would want to know how you came by it. And what would your answer be then, eh? Tell me that?”
“I should say it was given to me.”
“When? How? By whom? That’s what you’d be asked and what would you say? By Jocelyn Frinton when we helped him to escape! Give it to me.”
“Certainly not. It’s mine.”
“I only have to be away for a short while and people start acting senselessly. He had no right to give it to you.”
“He has every right to do what he likes with his own property.”
“Not when it means implicating you who have helped him. Give it to me. I’ll return it to him and let him know what I think of him.”
“I shall keep it,” I retorted. “Don’t be afraid. I do see the point. I won’t wear it.”
“It looks ridiculous on your finger anyway and everyone would notice it.”
“I’ll put it away.”
“In a hiding place, please. How foolish of him! What did he want to give you a gift for! And such a one! He must have been mad. Both of you must have been mad.”
I was silent. Perhaps it could be called a moment of madness. We had both been overwrought. I was sure Jocelyn would not have spoken as he had if those men with their dogs had not come along and brought such fear with them.
I gripped the ring tightly in my hands.
“Well, be careful,” he said. “There’s too much gossip and prying in a houseful of servants.”
“I’ll be careful, Leigh. I really will be. I’m glad you made me see it. I’ll hide it right away. You know I would do anything … anything for his safety.”
“He’s a pleasant young fellow, I agree. I wonder what Harriet will make of him.” He smiled, thinking of his fascinating mother.
“Time you were in bed,” he said. “Heave a sigh of relief. Our dangerous adventure is over.”
But of course it wasn’t. It was only just beginning.
Island Lovers
WE WERE ALL IMMENSELY relieved at Jocelyn’s departure, for my mother had written that she and my father were preparing to return and we were certain that one of them at least would have discovered that something unusual was taking place.
Carl had been warned to be careful of what he said, but in any case the adventure was over as far as he was concerned and his entire attention was now focused on a new falcon he had acquired and which one of the gamekeepers was helping him to train. Carl’s conversation consisted of nothing but this bird.
Leigh showed us a letter he had received from Harriet.
All was well at Eyot Abbas, she wrote. She had had to postpone the visit to town which she and Gregory had been contemplating. Benjie was in good spirits. He had taken quite a fancy to a visitor they had staying with them—a man with whom she had acted years ago. He was quite young, having taken child’s parts naturally, and he had never really made the grade as an adult actor, poor fellow. But he was quite amusing and it was fun to have him. He fitted quite well into the household and she was not sure how long he could stay with them. She was happy to have him, for Leigh knew how much she liked visitors when they were in the country. Gregory had had a slight cold and was saying when were some of you coming to see us? …
Leigh patted the letter, well pleased. “You can trust her to enter into the spirit of the thing.”
Christabel came to my room that night. She looked excited and quite beautiful.
“I wanted to talk to you, Priscilla,” she said. “I’m sorry to come at this time but I wanted to be sure of our being alone. Do you mind?”
“Of course not,” I said. “Come in.”
She sat down. “I noticed the ring you were wearing,” she told me. “What happened to it?”
“Leigh made me hide it away.” I did not tell her that when I wore bodices with high necks I wore it on a chain hidden from sight.
She raised her eyebrows and a secret smile played about those mobile lips. She said: “Jocelyn gave it to you, didn’t he?”
I nodded.
“I believe he’s in love with you.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It was rather obvious, and then that day when you came back after the scare with the dogs, I guessed he had said something.”
“I know it must sound ridiculous, but he has asked me to marry him if …”
She nodded, understanding. “It’s very romantic,” she said. “I understand because …”
It was my turn to study her. She burst out: “Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. I have always been wondering how I could ever have gone back to the rectory and now … now I shall be here. I shall be one of you.”
“What do you mean? You are one of us now. We all look upon you as a friend … especially after this which we have all done together.
“It’s strange but this matter … being in danger … conspiring together … it’s done something to us all.”
“To you, Christabel?”
“Yes, to me … and Edwin.”
“You mean you love each other.”
“I love him.”
“Then he loves you, too. Oh, why didn’t I see it? It’s so obvious.”
“As obvious as you and Jocelyn.”
“Oh, Christabel, you look so happy.”
“I am happy. It means so much to me. It is not only Edwin … loving him … knowing he loves me. It’s other things besides. Well, perhaps I shouldn’t think of them but if you had been brought up as I had …”
“I know what you mean. It’s all going to be changed. It’s going to be different for you. You can’t help thinking of that as well as being with Edwin. Has he spoken to you then? Has he asked you to marry him?”
“He has shown me in a hundred ways that he loves me. He has told me so, yes.”
I thought: Edwin is not the sort to take these matters lightly. He is not like Leigh. If Edwin were in love it would be serious. I had never heard the servants giggling together about his way of life.
“I am so happy for you,” I said. “You will be a sort of sister. Now you won’t have to think of leaving here. Oh, Christabel, I’m so glad you came.”
“It was the turning point in my life.” She laughed, quite joyously. She was quite different from the woman who had come to us not so long ago. It was as though the facade which she had built up to mask her feelings was evaporating. “And to think how frightened I was when I came here,” she went on. “I remember sitting downstairs and facing your parents …” A shadow crept across her face. “Do you think your parents will accept this?”
I was not sure. I remembered the talk of the Merridew and Egham girls. I wondered what their reaction would be. My parents attitude towards Christabel had made me speculate at first. My father had seemed anxious that she should settle in and had been considerate towards her, showing a little more interest than I should have thought was warranted. My mother would always be considerate to anyone who came into the household, but I fancy she regarded her with some suspicion, and I could see she often wondered why my father had brought her to us.
No, I was not at all sure what their reaction would be, but I had no wish to alarm Christabel out of her happiness, which it gave me great pleasure to contemplate.
So I said: “I am sure they will want Edwin to be happy, and Edwin is now of age.”
She seemed satisfied with that and sat talking for about half an hour of this dangerous mission of ours, and we laughed over our alarms and congratulated ourselves on doing rather well.
After she had gone I felt the euphoria die out of me.
I wondered what would be the outcome for us both—Christabel with Edwin who might have to face opposition, and myself who loved a fugitive who was at this moment hiding behind an assumed name.
My parents had returned to the house and as was usual on such occasions there was to be a celebration to welcome them back. Consequently the house was full of the smells of savoury pies and roasting meats. Ellen was bustling around, full of importance. Chastity came in to help and all was activity.
We were all in the hall to greet them—myself, Carl, Edwin, Leigh and Christabel, who hovered in the background.
My mother embraced me warmly. My father scarcely looked at me but he studied Carl carefully. We were all a little anxious about Carl, although we had warned him to be careful. He could so easily betray what we had done, although he would try not to. His thoughts were now full of the falcon, though, and there was a new interest because Pollux was going to have puppies. I felt the old resentment rising. My father looked so distinguished, so different from all other men; I was so proud of him. Whenever I saw him after an absence I noticed these things about him even more than usual, and I longed for one look of approval or even of interest. It never came. He was aware of me to some extent, of course. He knew he had a daughter; he remembered my name, but I guessed he was not sure of my age—whereas he knew everything concerning Carl.
His first remark was: “I believe the boy’s grown a few inches.”
“One and a half,” said Carl. “It’s by the cupboard, truly.”
He was referring to the schoolroom cupboard where his height had been measured throughout his life. There were others there too—those of Edwin and my own father, for both of them had been brought up at Eversleigh. Carl’s ambition was to top his father. I sometimes thought my father wanted him to do that too. I felt hurt that girls should be considered of such small account because of their sex and I was almost glad that I had been involved in something of which I believed he would not have approved.
“That’s good. You’ll be almost as tall as I am one day,” said my father.
“I’m going to be taller,” boasted Carl. It was the sort of attitude which pleased my father. He gave my brother an affectionate push.
My mother slipped her arm through mine. She always seemed as if she wanted to make up for my father’s neglect of me, but I really should have preferred it if she had pretended not to notice.
There was a certain normality about the house now that they had returned and I realized how difficult it would have been to have hidden Jocelyn if they had been at home. I had been wearing the ring round my neck that day, and for the evening I put on a dress which exposed my arms and neck, so I took it off and put it carefully away in a drawer behind some linen.
I met my mother on the way down and she started to tell me about the new hairstyles they were using at Court.
“They’re wearing loose curls on the forehead. It’s all curls. I don’t think the forehead ones would suit you, but I like the style with the hair caught up with a ribbon to hang at the side of the face. These curls are called heartbreakers. They are supposed to be alluring.” She had turned to me and touched my light brown hair, which was fine but abundant and certainly not inclined to be curly.
“Oh,” she went on, “what’s that mark on your skin? I see. It’s that chain of yours. It’s left quite a mark. It’s been pressing on your skin. I didn’t notice you were wearing the chain today.”
“I … I … er I was,” I said. I hoped I was not flushing as I feared I might be.
“But I didn’t see it, darling.”
“Oh, I was wearing it … for a time.”
It was only a small matter, but it was an indication of how careful one had to be. She might begin to wonder and realize that I had been wearing the chain under my bodice. Now why should a girl want to wear a gold chain so that it did not show!
Over the meal my father talked a great deal about what was going on at Court. Monmouth seemed certain that he would get his father to legitimatize him.
“The best thing possible,” commented my father. “It’ll put York’s nose out of joint and that’s the best place for that to be.”
Edwin asked: “Have you spoken to the King about it?”
“I? My dear fellow, Charles would not listen to me or anyone. I’d be told—with the utmost good humour of course—to mind my own business. And, who knows, in a short time there might be a cooling of royal favour. No, Charles knows what he is going to do and nobody’s going to persuade him. He’s insisting at the moment that he was never married to Lucy Walter and that Monmouth is therefore a bastard.”
“In that case,” said Leigh, “our next King must be James.”
“There will be some who will not accept that because it means Popery.”
“What’s happening to Titus Oates?”
“He’s still in Whitehall. There have been certain voices raised against him. He’s not the most popular man in the country.”
“Do you think that if he falls out of favour all this persecution of Catholics will stop?” I asked.
My father turned to look at me and I was deeply conscious of his cool, appraising gaze. I felt bitter. I wished he could have looked at me with interest just once.
He shrugged his shoulders. “Charles is not interested really. He’s the most tolerant man alive. He loathes all the fuss.”
“Then why doesn’t he do something about it?” I cried impatiently.
“Too lazy,” said Leigh. “But he did save the Queen. Oates would have had the axe for her if he could have arranged it.”
“He’s a beast!” I cried.
My mother said: “It will pass. These things always do.”
“Yes,” I retorted passionately, “but in the meantime people are being hunted and executed. It’s cruel.”
“Some say that the King is secretly Catholic,” put in Christabel.
There was silence at the table for a few moments, then my father said: “He would never openly admit to it. He’s too shrewd … too clever. He knows the people won’t have it and he is determined to please the people. But the next King must be a firm Protestant. It will have to be Monmouth.”
“But the Duke of York
will never accept that,” said my mother. “And I don’t think it’s wise to speak of these things of which we know nothing. There is a long letter from Harriet. She is staying in the country for a while. She has a rather amusing young man staying with her … an actor.”
My father said: “Harriet has always got amusing young men staying with her and they are invariably actors.” He spoke coldly. He did not like Harriet and she did not like him. He was one of the few men who had not been fascinated by her. “When are you young fellows returning to duty?” he went on.
“Awaiting orders,” answered Leigh. “It can’t be long now.”
“You’ll have to tell us what you’ve been doing while we’ve been away,” said my mother.
There was an awkward silence and my father laughed.
“It sounds, Bella,” he said, “as though they have been up to some tricks.”
We all laughed, rather falsely, I think. I heard myself saying: “We rode quite a bit. We even had a picnic once …”
“Good weather for it,” commented my father.
“It was a rather special sort of picnic,” cried Carl.
Four pairs of eyes were fixed on him warningly. He lowered his head. “Not really a special one,” he muttered.
“Just an ordinary sort of picnic.”
“Very ordinary,” said my mother, “in November!”
I thought again how fortunate we had been to have got Jocelyn to Harriet’s before they returned.
Servants in a house such as ours are like spies. They know what we are doing at any moment. They are conversant with our daily habits and if we should step out of line they are immediately aware of it. I was passing Sally Nullens’s room when I overheard her talking to Emily Philpots, and as I realized what they were talking about I shamelessly stopped to listen.
“Of all the impudence! Who does she think she is? Mark my words, didn’t I say as soon as she entered these doors that I knew her sort? Adventuress. That’s what she is.” That was Emily Philpots.
Then Sally Nullens: “It can’t be true she’s got her claws in my Lord Edwin. Not my Lord Edwin! A dear little chap he was—different from that Leigh. Now if it had been him …”
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