Mary made steady progress. She was still unable to speak but communication with her was active. From the start Anne had instigated one-sided conversations, by telling her to raise her right hand for an affirmative answer and the left for a negative. In this way, by trial and error, some picture of her background had been built up. At the first opportunity Anne offered her paper, pen and ink, but she made it clear that she could neither read nor write. So the original method had to suffice and in time it was learned that it was her widowed uncle, who with his wife had fostered her from birth, and his brother who had lost their lives that day and her grief, overwhelming at first, resurged from time to time, her eyes frequently sad and far away. She had no other family and nobody to whom she could return.
Her loneliness among strangers was a factor in bringing about the close friendship that developed between Julia and her. While she was still immobile Julia read to her and when she was able to sit comfortably against the pillows Julia taught her to play draughts and backgammon. Anne’s anxiety about Robert was infectious, pervading the whole house, and Julia became increasingly fearful that she was never going to see her father again. It was something she could not confide to either her mother or grandmother, but she told Mary, who tried by miming and facial expression to urge her to keep up hope.
Although Mary was always glad to have company in her room whether it should be lively Julia, Anne with her sewing or Katherine, who related long stories of her days at Elizabeth’s court, sometimes telling the same tale over and over again, it was Michael’s visits that meant the most to her. Her eyes lit up at once when he appeared and she was transparently happy.
Anne went into Chichester to purchase underwear, hose and shoes for Mary, who was slimmer and taller than she, and a warm cloak with a hood for the coming winter days when it was to be hoped that the need to keep the girl hidden would be at an end. Four gowns, ordered previously for the girl from a dressmaker, were delivered in boxes to Anne’s waiting coach. While in the city Anne took hot chocolate at the Dolphin with a friend and heard that Roundhead activity in Sussex was intense.
‘They’re searching for the King everywhere,’ her friend said in a whisper, ‘it’s rumoured that he’s already safely abroad. Let’s hope that to be so.’
Anne knew it could not be. If Robert was with the King he would never leave England without seeing her first.
Mary was delighted with her new clothes, all the gowns able to be fitted with the be-ribboned and lace-trimmed collars that Anne had made for her, which came to her jaw-line and hid the supporting collar underneath. As yet she could not, and dared not, dispense with the padded one either by night or day. Pain never entirely left her and at times she still needed the anodyne to give her some ease. She could not sit and sew for any length of time, although she was eager to help with the making of the fancy silk purses, shoe rosettes and petticoat trimmings for the servants’ Christmas gifts. The skill of her fingers with a needle was proof she was indeed a seamstress as she had indicated herself to be, and she was familiar with every kind of stitching.
All looking glasses had been kept from her room until the swelling of her face subsided. She proved to be quite a pretty girl, her remarkable green eyes set wide apart, her face round with a little dimpled chin and a very fair complexion. As soon as she was able to dress her own hair she used a style that overcame its fineness, drawing it back farther than the current mode and letting it fall in long silky ringlets instead of curls, the rest gathered up into the fashionable top-knot. When Michael complimented her, saying how much the style suited her, she blushed with pleasure.
He happened to be with her when it dawned on her that she was never going to be able to speak again, her vocal cords damaged beyond any repair of time or rest. She was sitting opposite him as he talked of what he had done that morning, seeing to matters of the estate in his father’s absence, when something he said happened to draw a comparison in her mind with the place where she had lived, and she wanted to tell him. All along she had planned that he should be the first to hear her voice. When her first attempt failed, she tried again, convinced that it would return this time. He saw the horror and anguish flood her eyes as she mouthed in vain what she wanted to say, rising slowly to her feet as if every physical effort must be made to project her voice out of its silence.
He stood up at once and took her by the arms, able to see what she was going through. The possibility of her remaining mute had been discussed out of her hearing, but they were all hoping it would be otherwise.
‘Don’t be afraid,’ he urged, ‘it’s early days yet.’
No tears came into her eyes, but her face contracted pitifully into such a mask of torment that it tore at his most sensitive feelings.
‘Mary! Don’t lose heart! Not now when you’ve been so courageous and endured so much.’
Her eyes were full of him as if he were all that stood between her and an abyss. She crumpled, reaching out, and he caught her in his arms, aware that she was shuddering with despair. He cupped her head in his hand, her forehead against his lips, and said everything he could think of to make her see that life could still be rich and fulfilled.
‘This is your home. You’ll never have to leave Sotherleigh until you marry and that will be by your own free will or not at all. We’ve made so many plans for you. We’ll teach you to read and write. Julia wants you to learn all the stately dances with her when your neck no longer pains you. We want you to be happy and to look upon us as the family you have lost.’
After a while her shuddering ceased and she became calmer and seemingly resigned. When he would have returned her to her chair she suddenly caught at his jacket and pressed a long kiss to his cheek, her eyes closed. I love you! she cried silently to him, the clean, young, outdoor smell of his skin in her nostrils. Then she drew back, abashed by her own boldness until she saw that he had taken her impassioned kiss as an expression of thanks and nothing more.
It was becoming increasingly apparent to him and his family that she should soon take her place publicly as a member of the household. So far the smuggling of food to her had been a combined effort. When she had first arrived liquids had been all she could take, and Anne had gone every night to the kitchen when the servants were asleep to sieve broth and make possets to keep hot in a hay-box in Mary’s room. Later, daily portions had been taken from the family meals, but there was always a danger of this being spotted. So preliminary plans were laid and it was decided to choose a surname for her, for since she did not know the alphabet there was no way of finding out what her own name was. Various suggestions were made but Mary did not seem to care for any of them. Perhaps she was hoping they would alight on hers by chance.
‘What about Twyat?’ Michael asked her at last. ‘That’s my middle name, and a family one as well, coming from a distant ancestor. Since we are going to tell everyone that you’re a cousin, it would be appropriate. What do you think?’
She smiled her approval, raising her right hand. Katherine, watching her, thought to herself that the girl would have accepted anything that had links with Michael.
On their own, Anne and Julia decided that Mary should have a little gift to commemorate her new surname and they went off to Chichester together the next morning to see what they could find. Julia also needed new shoes, and a call was to be made at the shoe-maker’s in South Street to choose both silk and leather for some new pairs. When this was done a pretty hand-glass was purchased for Mary.
While in the city they met many people they knew and all spoke of Colonel Warrender’s having taken command of the search for the King in this part of Sussex, just as there had been officers appointed in other counties for the same purpose. Hundreds of Cavaliers, who had served in the Battle of Worcester, had fled to the Continent, although these were mostly of high rank or with some other special reason for evading arrest by the Parliamentarians. Those who returned home did not escape close interrogation, even if they were wounded, and when cleared of aiding or concea
ling the King were usually fined and often imprisoned on some pretext. This was already known at Sotherleigh, for Michael had been among the first to be questioned, summoned to Warrender Hall for the interrogation since his father and the Colonel were neighbours of long-standing, albeit on opposite sides of the conflict and with no liking for each other, not even in their boyhood days. Michael, who still needed the relief of a sling for his arm in its healing, had been questioned by Colonel Warrender as to the seriousness of the wound. Slight though it was, the Colonel had dismissed him as having been physically incapable of giving any help to the Stuart and said as much, adding strict orders forbidding him to go beyond the bounds of Sotherleigh’s estate.
Nevertheless, Michael was left with the impression that his father’s prolonged absence, as well as the name of Robert Pallister failing to appear on the lists of those dead, wounded or captive, was highly suspicious as far as the Parliamentarians were concerned. He was certain that a Roundhead raid could be expected at Sotherleigh whenever his father should return, and had discussed with his mother how Mary should be concealed in such an emergency.
That same evening, after the excursion to Chichester, conversation was interrupted in the Queen’s Parlour when a sealed letter was handed to Anne. She recognized the hand-writing. With a qualm she knew it to be from the same friend of the family who had warned her of Captain Harding’s coming to take the horses. Michael and Katherine watched her as she broke the seal and silently read the letter.
Be on your guard, it began. I have discovered there is a double hunt afoot. Not only is the King being sought on all sides, but also a Cavalier, a young woman and a boy, a trio rumoured to have been seen in this area. You will understand why I am communicating with you when you view the enclosed document bearing their recent likenesses. Take warning. There is no time to waste. It was signed with the initial G.
All colour drained from Anne’s face and wordlessly she handed the letter to Michael before unfolding the enclosed document. Then she gave a faint gasp of alarm at what she saw on the printed sheet. It was headed Top Secret and was obviously issued only to those in command, for it stated that the three felons, whose faces had been reproduced, were to be arrested with the least possible delay and taken immediately to the nearest Parliamentary headquarters. The printed visages were roughly drawn, but Michael’s face was so clear in all his features that he might have sat especially for the artist. Joe’s was equally unmistakable and his hair, shown rougher and spikier than he now wore it, was exactly as it had been on the journey. As for Mary, she was the least recognisable, her tresses hanging in the disarray caused by her attempted execution, such fear in her face as to give her features a witch-like appearance and there was little to connect the drawing with the re-blooming girl she had become. Anne’s hand shook as she passed the document in silence to her son.
‘What is it?’ Katherine questioned anxiously from her chair. Julia was not present, being upstairs reading to Mary.
Michael looked up from the drawings. ‘Bad news, I’m afraid, grandmother. It looks as if the Roundhead net is closing in on Mary, Joe and myself.’ He noted that Mary had been named as Marion Moore and realized how he had misunderstood her first attempt to tell him who she was. ‘We appear to have been sighted somewhere in the environs of Chichester and probably Joe and I were recognized, but who would have seen Mary, wrapped up as she was at the bottom of the cart? Unless, of course, we were viewed from an upstairs window.’ Turning the paper over, he read what Anne had overlooked in her distress. ‘What’s more, from this report the Royalist concerned seemed to have his left arm in a sling, but what really puzzles me is the sketches of our faces. I can only imagine that one of the medical students with whom we were talking for several minutes at the gibbets near St Cross was something of a draughtsman and drew our likeness from memory when being questioned by the authorities.’ His solemn gaze went from his mother to Katherine and back again. ‘I fear that as soon as Colonel Warrender receives his copy of this document he will be heading for Sotherleigh to make his arrests.’
‘There’s no doubt about that,’ Anne declared despairingly.
‘Mary must be moved to a safer place of hiding. As for Joe and myself, we must ride for the coast and escape to France.’ He went to his mother as she gave a stifled sob and put an arm about her shoulders. ‘I’m afraid there’s no alternative. I’d take Mary with me if I could, but she can’t ride with her neck in need of support. She must be transferred immediately to the underground chamber and kept there until all danger is past.’
Katherine interrupted from her chair. ‘No!’ she expostulated angrily, rising to her feet as swiftly as if the force of her outrage had given a renewed mobility to her stiffened joints, all pain forgotten. ‘It would mean revealing the secret of the Queen’s Door to an outsider! You kept it from the girl when you came home with her, but to house her there in this new crisis is out of the question. I forbid it!’
Michael addressed her quietly but sternly, his arm still giving Anne support, ‘In my father’s absence I am master here. It is my word that shall be obeyed. We can’t keep the secret to ourselves when a human life depends on the knowledge of the Queen’s Door. It shall not be denied to Mary, who wasn’t able even to tell us her true name when she came here.’
‘Why ever did you bring that creature to Sotherleigh?’ she flung at him madly, her voice high-pitched.
‘If I had my time over again I would do the same.’
Katherine crumpled. ‘What are we to call her now then?’
‘She will have to keep the name of Mary Twyat to remove any possible suspicion when eventually she can take her place as a member of the household. Now I’ll go and tell her what is to happen.’
Anne nodded, ‘I’ll come with you.’
Katherine had sunk down into her chair again. For the first time ever she felt control of Sotherleigh pass from her hands. It had not happened when she signed it over to Robert, seeing it as no more than a gesture, while knowing privately that as long as he was away at sea it was she who was the beat of Sotherleigh’s heart. Later, during his absence at the war, she had played lip-service to Anne as mistress of the house, but she had had the secret knowledge of what she had thought of as Harry Warrender’s bequest and knew that nothing had really changed. Now, suddenly, she had a vision of Sotherleigh slipping away from her and the family into nothingness and it filled her with despair.
She felt Anne’s hand descend comfortingly upon her shoulder, sensed her daughter-in-law’s uncertain hovering, and then heard her depart in a rustle of skirts, following Michael who was already on his way to Mary’s room.
For what seemed a long time Katherine gazed unseeingly into the fire. She had heard the expression often enough of the ground being cut from under one’s feet and she understood its full meaning now. When the door creaked again she thought Anne had returned, but it was Julia. Abruptly she turned in her chair and gripped the child by the shoulders. ‘Promise me that you will keep Sotherleigh as securely as the Queen’s gown!’
Julia frowned, puzzled by what had been said. ‘But Sotherleigh is not mine and never can be. In any case Michael and Joe will only be taking refuge on the Continent for a little while. Just till it’s safe again.’
In spite of the tumult of her feelings Katherine spared the child her certainty that it would be years instead of months before Michael would be able to return. She gave Julia a sharp little shake to emphasize the importance of her words.
‘If anything untoward should happen, promise me that you’ll be the keeper of this house for your brother and his heirs!’
Julia had never seen her grandmother in such a state. There were tears glinting in the old lady’s eyes and her whole face was working. While upstairs, she had heard all that had happened and how Michael and Joe must flee abroad while Mary was hidden, but although she knew she should make the promise her grandmother asked of her, instinctively she baulked at it. She wanted to live in her own house when she was grown
up, that magical abode that Christopher was going to design for her one day. She had come to see herself as growing away from Sotherleigh, always loving it as her place of birth, but looking out on wider horizons from windows that were hers.
‘Julia! Answer me!’ Katherine’s cry of appeal was so distraught that Julia could no longer hold back.
‘Yes, Grandmother! I’ll keep Sotherleigh safe! Never fear!’ She flung her arms round Katherine’s neck and they hugged each other tightly. Clasped as they were, Katherine did not see that the child’s eyes were troubled. Julia was hoping that she would never have to make a choice between Sotherleigh and the Wren house that somehow symbolized her freedom. For she knew as the daughter of a Cavalier that one’s word once given remained a bond for ever.
6
In the stables Joe was saddling up three horses. They were all recent purchases, for the end of the fighting meant that the Roundheads were no longer on the prowl to commandeer any good mounts that came their way. He was heart-sore at having to leave behind the black horse that had done such good service on the journey from Worcester and the brown one that had pulled the cart, for he had come to think of them as his own, but neither was as speedy as those he was making ready for departure. There was no need for excessive stealth in what he was doing, the head groom and the coachman being at supper in the kitchen. It was as well, for he was in a furious temper, kicking things about and occasionally thumping a fist against the side of a stall in livid frustration.
‘It’s all the fault of Turnip-head!’ he raged to the twitching ears of the horses. He had not seen Mary since the night he and Michael had arrived home with her and he still pictured her as she had looked then. ‘This is all ’er fault! I don’t want to leave ’ere. With time I’d ’ave been top man. But oh, no! You-know-who ’ad to ruin everything for me. I don’t want to live with foreigners. They won’t catch me eating frogs!’
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