The other wives were not convinced. Lady Nairn and Lady Derwentwater were our next callers and they rebuked me for acting alone. I felt for their determination to stay calm and use measured arguments, despite the evidence of distress in their pale faces and red-rimmed eyes. They seemed too young to be facing such tragedy and Lady Derwentwater was evidently with child. I was left in no doubt that they believed my action had been selfish and they wondered aloud about Mrs Morgan’s judgement in agreeing to help. They feared the king’s resentment would ruin any chance of reprieve for all our husbands. We had already failed to present our petition in parliament and they worried that no peer would now dare to risk his reputation to present a petition to the House of Lords. I gave them the news from Montrose and promised to ask the Duke to present the petition on our behalf.
Once alone, I paced the library. If Lady Nairn was right and our petition failed, our husbands would die in two days. Stung by the women’s accusation of disloyalty, I knew that I should do nothing further to risk the success of the petition but I couldn’t allow William’s fate to depend upon a lords’ debate. I needed a plan, one I would execute only in the most desperate of circumstances. The one advantage I had over the other wives, I reasoned, was my ease of access to the Tower of London and, finally, I could use that advantage. I sent for Grace and Mr and Mrs Mills, joined later by Mrs Morgan, and we conferred long into the night.
As head of the household, Mr Mills spoke on behalf of his wife and their friend. ‘I have heard that James returned to France earlier this month. Sadly, I must report that he burned the land behind him as he retreated, leaving ordinary Scottish people to freeze and starve to death. We must accept that the young king does not have the disposition to lead us to victory. At least for this generation, the Jacobite cause is finished. I can’t speak for our friends in Scotland but here we must learn to live under George of Hanover.’
Mrs Mills interrupted her husband. ‘I heard that two young supporters, foolish enough to proclaim James in public as the rightful king, were pulled from their horses and stripped naked in front of a jeering crowd!’
Mr Mills frowned at his wife. ‘But we’re not giving up on William. Winifred is right, his situation is worse than the others, particularly after the incident with the king.’
Now Mrs Morgan interrupted. ‘It was worth the risk. The circumstances were unfortunate.’
Mr Mills sighed and continued, avoiding our eyes. ‘That’s what I was about to say. No one is to blame. But we are agreed on one thing, Winifred. All we must know is our part of the plan, exactly what you need us to do. It’s safer for us all if we know as little detail as possible.’
Mrs Morgan agreed. ‘Well spoken, Mr Mills. My husband is keen that I bring no further attention to our household but should the petition fail, we will help William escape. No man should face such a death.’
I felt relief and gratitude and thanked them all for their bravery. ‘Let us hope that the petition succeeds.’
The day before the execution, a bitter wind whipped from the Thames. We waited outside Parliament House for the Lords to assemble, shivering, blowing on our hands and stamping our feet. The atmosphere was almost convivial as all the wives were there with their children and there were many friends too, highly regarded women who, being female, only had to worry about disapproval rather than loss of rank. As the lords filed past we shouted and cheered, demanding a reprieve for our husbands. They stared straight ahead, even our friends amongst them would not acknowledge us, but we were not moved on by the soldiers who guarded the entrance. I took this to be a sign that ordinary people, servants, guards and soldiers, wanted our men to live.
We crushed into a gallery to hear the debate. One lord protested angrily that the king had no right to reprieve men that parliament had found guilty, another that it was only parliament who could ask the king to have mercy on prisoners. This carried weight and it was agreed that parliament would petition the king that very evening. We sighed and clapped, hugging each other. Our husbands might still live.
But an elderly peer stood, leaning on the bench in front of him with one hand on his hip. Surely all the men did not deserve to be reprieved? He seemed puzzled, disappointed. Was no one guilty? Speaking for himself, he said he could only agree to a request for mercy for those who deserved it. This brought a murmur of approval.
I rose and pushed my way through the other wives. I wouldn’t stay to listen to this. William would not be one of those pardoned; my humiliation of the king had made that a certainty. I had to act, quickly and alone. I paid for a carriage to the Tower of London. My entrance was barred at every gate but I smiled at the guards and told them my wonderful news. The imprisoned peers would be reprieved the very next day. I feigned a relieved and excited cheerfulness which was infectious on a bitter February afternoon and I was allowed to pass. The council chamber in the Lieutenants Lodge, where the wardens and their wives gathered around the fire on slow afternoons, was full of women. Marian was holding court with the younger wives and I could see they were all the worse for ale.
She greeted me enthusiastically, as if I were her closest and dearest friend. ‘This is Lady Winifred Herbert,’ she announced to the others, raising her tankard. ‘Her mother was lovely when she was here, a real lady. The best prisoner we’ve ever had.’ She turned to address me. ‘You here to see your husband? He isn’t allowed visitors. He’s for the chop tomorrow.’ She made a cutting motion across her neck and cackled with laughter.
‘Marian, I wanted you to be the first to know. My husband is to be freed. Here, have another drink.’ I reached into my bag and drew out a handful of coins.
‘You’re a lady, like your mother. Your father was a rum ‘un, a bit like your husband.’ Marian took a deep draught of ale and laughed from her belly. The other women, who seemed a little wary of her, laughed too. The room was incredibly hot and I felt that my skin must be glistening with sweat.
‘Can I see Lord Nithsdale, just for a short while? I’ll tell him the news and leave.
‘’Ere, you,’ Marian shouted to the armed guard at the door to William’s room, wiping her lips with her sleeve, ‘Let the lady in, you lazy shite.’
William startled then rose to greet me and we held each other close. If my plan wasn’t successful, I knew this might be our last time together. I kissed him softly on the lips then pushed him towards the window, where we wouldn’t be overheard.
‘The House of Lords has agreed to petition the king to pardon some of you, but not all. Those who deserve to die will still be executed. I think that’s you and probably Kenmure,’ I whispered.
William nodded. ‘It’s fine, Win, I’m ready. Here,’ he led me to the table, ‘I’ve been working on my speech. Can I read bits to you? I’m not sure they work.’
‘No, I won’t look at your speech!’ I hissed and dragged him back to the window. ‘I’m here to tell you that I’m rescuing you tomorrow. You must cooperate with me or several of our friends will end up on the scaffold alongside you, including me.’
‘Win, this is foolish.’ William sat down at the table and picked up a sealed envelope. ‘We need to make plans for after my death. I’ve written to ask Charles and Mary if you can live with them at Traquair. Please take this letter to them.’
I sat down next to him and took his thin face between my hands and turned him to look at me. ‘This horrible place, this Tower of London, will never take one of my family. I will not be beaten by this travesty of humanity. You will be ready for me tomorrow morning. If you resist me, I’ll kill you myself.’
William’s eyes widened with surprise then softened. He smiled. ‘I’m thinking of the night I rescued you from the mob in Dumfries. There’s something mad about you, Win. You’ll do this thing whether it kills us all. Don’t tell me any more. If you’re here tomorrow I’ll go with you like a lamb. But I will spend tonight writing letters to the children. And if you don’t mind, my precious, loving wife, I beg you to look at the pathetic words I’ve scratched on
this parchment before you go. I’m particularly worried about the bit where I try to explain why I lied to the Commons and the Lords to get myself off.’
I gave Marian a few more coins to thank her for her leniency then hurried back to Duke Street, taking a hackney carriage from the many that lined the streets outside the Tower. Business was brisk under the new king.
At dinner I could eat nothing and when I heard the Duke of Montrose announced, I threw my napkin down and ran into the hall. The Lord’s petition had been presented to the king but his response had been unhelpful to those of us who were looking for a clear answer. The king had been unwilling to make an immediate decision but had reminded those present that he had a duty to guarantee the safety of the people. There would be no executions in the morning but nothing else had changed.
That night in the drawing room, I checked my plan with Grace and she slipped away under cover of darkness to warn Mrs Morgan, while I prepared Mr and Mrs Mills. I couldn’t sleep and could hear Grace pacing in the room next to mine. I knew the layout of the Lieutenant’s Lodging, I knew the routines of the guards, I was trusted by the wardens. Throughout the long night I rehearsed every detail. I couldn’t dwell on the consequences of involving dear friends in my terrifying scheme because if I did, it would have to be abandoned. Throughout my life I’d asked too much of other people and tomorrow would be the greatest test of their loyalty. I didn’t even write letters to my children. To fail was beyond my reckoning. We would not fail.
I opened the window of my room and listened to the night sounds. An owl swept down from the trees and something rustled in the bushes. If I could have found any faith, I might have prayed, but instead I fell on my knees and thought of my sister Lucy, secure in her convent in the company of women. I clasped my hands together and looked into the face of the bright, smiling moon and asked whoever might be listening to keep us safe.
Chapter 22
We met in the grand drawing room, a strange little group: Mrs Morgan always elegant, Mrs Mills short and preoccupied. Grace stood by the fireplace and Mr Mills, also small and busy, paced the room filling and emptying his pipe. These were my co-conspirators, as yet innocent of the shocking things I would ask them to do.
I spoke to them at last. ‘My dear friends, thank you for being here with me. Without your help over the last two months, I think I would have turned my face to the wall and given up hope. But today, I’m going to ask you to do a most courageous thing for me. It will be the last.’
It was as if everyone had stopped breathing. ‘I will do everything I can to make sure you come to no harm and that your identities are protected,’ I continued. ‘We must leave soon for the Tower of London.’
I turned to Mrs Morgan, ‘Please wait in here for a few minutes with Grace while I check that we have everything we need. Grace has some clothes for you to change into. Mr Mills, I’m afraid I had the audacity to ready the coach. Could you ask the coachman to bring it around to the front of the house and wait there with Mrs Mills?’
My trusting friends asked no questions as the coach pitched and rolled through the dirty, rutted streets to the Tower. The driver had been instructed to make great haste and we struggled to maintain our balance. I chattered nervously, distracting them with nonsense about the weather and the number of beggars and whether the new king would do anything to make London a safer city. Mrs Morgan, in her extra petticoats and cloak, began to look hot, her cheeks burning with fiery pink patches and I worried she might faint. I passed her my handkerchief which had been dipped in lavender water. I saw Mr and Mrs Mills exchange a quick glance, as if they thought they might have become involved in the desperate antics of a woman driven mad by grief. I think only Grace’s calm smile prevented Mr Mills from asking the coachman to turn around for home.
The coach stopped at the first gate to the Tower, and Grace put a hand on Mr Mills’ arm to prevent him from stepping down from the coach with his wife and Mrs Morgan, who were to accompany me on foot. Grace said that she needed him to continue alone with her but he protested, anxious for the safety of his wife.
My tone forbade any further argument. ‘It will just be like an ordinary visit to my husband. I will keep her safe. You must go with Grace to secure a lodging for William and myself. Only a man can do this. You will return here very soon.’ Mr Mills settled back into his seat, his expression forlorn.
Grace climbed down from the carriage and hugged me. ‘Be brave and take great care,’ she whispered before shaking Mrs Mills and Mrs Morgan by the hand. ‘Listen to Winifred,’ she instructed. ‘Do exactly as she says.’
At each gate, we were received with sympathy as news of the king’s prevarication had already reached the wardens. Like me, they had guessed that William would not be one of those reprieved and they allowed me the wife’s privilege of access to a prisoner facing execution. My explanation that my women friends, their heads lowered and eyes masked by handkerchiefs, had come to support me in my farewell to William, was accepted with kindness and I was nodded through. I was lucky that grief is an embarrassment and no one wished to look too closely.
At the Lieutenant’s Lodge I asked Mrs Mills to wait downstairs. She looked afraid, as if she had finally grasped that she was to enter this place of imprisonment and execution. I was fearful she might choose to run.
I pressed my cheek to hers and growled. ‘I will come down for you soon, I promise. If anyone asks, you are waiting to say farewell to the Earl of Nithsdale. Keep your face down and covered.’
I turned to Mrs Morgan. ‘Upstairs I will call you Mrs Catherine. You must stand tall but cover your face.’ She nodded and I saw her swallow. Her face was pale and dappled with sweat. ‘Follow me now.’
In the chamber, the guards sat around the fire but the mood was quiet and solemn out of respect for the condemned man. As I had hoped, there were only a few women. Women notice details.
‘I’ve brought some friends to say goodbye to my husband,’ I addressed them as a group, speaking over their heads. ‘We won’t stay long. I have to go to the House of Lords. There’s to be another petition tonight. My servant will call for me when the carriage is below. Will one of you let me know when she arrives?’ I tried to swallow but I had no saliva. I felt Mrs Morgan as a shadow at my shoulder.
The head warder, Marian’s husband Tom, pushed himself out of his chair and came towards us, tucking his shirt over his belly and into his trews. ‘The women all got a bit drunk last night,’ he folded his arms and smiled, then looked down at the floorboards. ‘They’re a bit poorly today.’ He walked in front of us to William’s door and pushed the guard’s halberd away. ‘Let Lady Nithsdale and her friend in. Where’s your manners?’
William jumped as we entered. He hadn’t expected me and certainly not Mrs Morgan, who he had never met. I put my fingers to my lips and William raised his eyebrows as I asked Mrs Morgan to strip off both of her outer cloaks and the extra petticoats. I kissed William on the cheek then steered my friend back through the door and past the guards, now dressed in only one layer of clothing.
‘Has my servant called to say the coach is ready?’ I called out to Tom. At my side, Mrs Morgan feigned great distress and covered her face.
He didn’t look up from his game of chess. ‘No, my lady, no one’s come for you.’
‘That’s ridiculous. I’m going to be late.’ I feigned irritation. ‘Come on, Mrs Catherine, I’ll take you downstairs.’
To my relief, Mrs Mills still waited for us, chewing on her glove and staring anxiously up at the staircase when she heard our footsteps.
‘Is it my turn?’ she whispered.
‘Cover your face and come up with me,’ I barked. ‘Don’t look at anyone. Pretend to be heartbroken but no obvious weeping or wailing.’
We hurried back through the wood-panelled guard’s chamber without more than a friendly nod from Marian’s husband. The guard on William’s door let us pass and I closed it behind us.
‘What next!’ William grumbled but I could see he was
interested. ‘Why is Mrs Mills here?’ He remembered his manners and bowed to her.
I whispered to them both. ‘I need to create confusion about how many women there are and who’s gone in and who’s gone out. Luckily, they’re not paying much attention. Mrs Mills you must put on the clothes Mrs Morgan left behind. Hurry now!’
‘I thought those were for me.’ William interrupted, looking away as Mrs Mills stripped to her petticoats.
‘Just do as I say. Don’t argue. I’m going to take Mrs Mills down to wait with Mrs Morgan. You’ll be next.’ I pointed to the clothes Mrs Mills had dropped on the floor. ‘While I’m gone put these on.’ I glanced out of the window at the fading light. ‘Good, it’s almost dark. I want you out of here before they light the lamps.’
I turned and saw that Mrs Mills was crying. ‘It’s nearly over,’ I pressed her shoulder. ‘Your husband should be waiting at the gate with Grace. I’ll get you out of here now. This time, stand erect but cover your face.’
Rushing Mrs Mills through the chamber that was lit only by embers from the fire, I felt hopeful that the warders wouldn’t notice her trailing robes and petticoat. I walked behind her, complaining about my carriage and loudly begging Mrs Mills to try and find out what had happened.
Downstairs, I pushed Mrs Mills and Mrs Morgan outside the Lodge and we hurried past the guards to the gate where their coach would collect them. It was a cold evening and the guards barely lifted their heads from their glowing braziers to nod in greeting.
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