*
When Mistress Betsy came in with a bowl of water and some rags, and an ointment she swore had effected marvellous cures on all kinds of bruises and contusions, he grinned at her affectionately and said he was sure the lad would appreciate a glass of her sister's damson wine, as he would himself, if she would be so good as to procure it. She departed, having been assured there was nought she could do, and he turned his attention to reviving Honour.
At the first touch of the cold water on her brow, she moaned slightly, and soon opened her eyes, staring uncomprehendingly about her. She looked at Mr Dunstone and frowned slightly, then groaned at the pain in her head.
'Be still, and you'll soon be feeling more the thing,' he said quietly. 'I've sent for some wine, but until you've had it I forbid you to speak. Close your eyes again and keep still.'
Thankfully, she did so, trying to recall what had happened, and how she came to be in such a situation, and why her head hurt so. Mr Dunstone intercepted Mistress Betsy at the door, cautioning her to be quiet, and sending her off again for some broth, then he came and slid his arm behind Honour's shoulders and lifted her to help her drink some of the wine.
'Thank you,' she said weakly. 'What happened? Oh, my head!'
'Lie still. You have a bruise as big as an egg, when my stupid horse pulled you off your feet. I must apologise. I did not think him so ill-mannered.'
'Your horse! Oh!' Honour exclaimed, blushing furiously as she recalled the events of the afternoon, and realised she was dressed in boy's costume. She stole a cautious glance at her rescuer, to find him eyeing her with some amusement. 'I hope the horse is unhurt,' she stammered in confusion, struggling to sit up.
'He suffered nought. Will you have more wine?'
'No, I – I thank you. I must be going home, I will be missed. How – how long have I been here?'
'Only a few minutes.'
'I must find Ben,' she said distractedly.
'Ben?'
'My – the friend I was with.'
'How did you come to be separated from him? There was no one who seemed to claim you when I picked you up.'
'We were separated when we came out of the theatre,' she explained breathlessly. 'He will be worried, I must go and try to find him!'
'You are not fit to do so. You must rest here and then I will escort you home. Ben will no doubt go there when he realises you are not to be found.'
'He mustn't! Oh, that would be the very worst thing!'
'Nonetheless, you'll do as I say.'
Honour sighed, and so firm was his tone, and so weak did she feel, she made no demur when he insisted she drink some more wine, and then eat the broth Mistress Betsy brought.
'Tell me,' he said conversationally when she had finished, 'do you often wear boy's clothes?'
Honour flashed him a quick glance, the betraying colour suffusing her cheeks.
'I – oh, I had hoped you had not guessed,' she said in confusion. 'I thought I made quite a good boy,' she added in disgust. 'Do you think everyone knew?'
'Oh, I doubt it, with your hat on,' he reassured her, forbearing to mention that not everyone had been given his opportunity of carrying her for a considerable distance, when the lightness and softness of her body had given him the first hint she was not what she appeared.
'I must try to find Ben. He will be so worried. You see, he lent me the clothes, and he really did not want to do it, but I made him, and he will be frantic.'
'You are in no state to go searching the streets for your friend. Surely he will assume you have gone home when he fails to find you?'
'That would be the very worst thing!' she exclaimed in dismay. 'Surely he would not betray me so!'
'I thought as much,' he said, amused. 'Why this masquerade?'
*
Honour considered him. He was very tall, and wore a black wig with luxuriant flowing curls. His eyes were a dark brown, and were regarding her with a distinct twinkle. A smile hovered on his lips, which were well shaped and full, and he wore a jaunty moustache. He appeared trustworthy, she decided, though his firm chin indicated he might be a most determined man.
Suddenly she smiled, and Gervase Dunstone, who had thought himself immune from the lures cast to him by Court beauties and actresses alike, found that this golden haired urchin with the great green eyes had the power to stir him that no other woman had.
'My father thinks the theatre is wicked, you see,' she confided. 'I did so want to see a play just once, and I bullied Ben – he is my father's apprentice – into helping me. And it was worth it all!' she declared fervently, as the magic of the afternoon was recalled. 'I shall be able to remember it for the rest of my life!'
'Why should you not go again?' he asked, puzzled. 'Your father will not be able to forbid you always.'
She frowned. 'No, but then William will! He's the man I am to marry,' she explained gloomily.
'You do not sound enamoured of your William,' he said with a slight laugh.
'Oh, he is so stern and stiff, and moralizes so I could scream just to listen to him!'
'Not the man for you! Is there no one else?'
'No one my father will accept. And Robert has disappeared. He was – that is – I thought he would offer for me, but Father would not agree, because he says the Merchant Adventurers are deep in debt, beside not liking Robert!'
She fell into a reverie, and after a while he gently suggested that if she felt better it was time to take her home. Guiltily she jumped up.
'Oh, dear, you will not betray me, sir, I beg of you?'
'Not willingly, but I must see you safely home.'
'I can climb in the way I left, through a window at the back,' she told him eagerly, and he nodded, and sent Tom, who had appeared to report that the horse was safely stabled, to call a chair. Despite Honour's protests that she was well enough to walk, he insisted that she use it, and as she was secretly feeling rather weak, she did not argue, but meekly got in and responded rather shyly to his comments as he walked along beside her. He chatted easily about the theatre, and she gathered he knew many of the actors. He listened to her views on the play she had seen, and laughed when she confessed she would love to be an actress.
'It can be a hard life,' he said.
'But so exciting! Oh, please, sir, will you stop by the church there? I can climb over the wall at the back of the house, and hope no one sees me!'
He directed the chairmen, and detained Honour while he paid them off and dismissed them.
'You don't wish them to see your unconventional return,' he said with a laugh.
'Oh, no, and thank you so very much! I am afraid I have no money left, but how can I repay you for the chair when I receive my next allowance?'
'You have repaid me by letting me join in your adventure, and smiling at me!' he responded, and she looked at him doubtfully.
'It seems an odd sort of payment,' she commented. 'But I am most grateful!'
'Then mayhap you had better get back into the house now?' he suggested, and with a nod she left him, slipping through the gate and over the wall. At the window which was still left open she turned to wave, and he stood pensively regarding it long after she had disappeared from view.
*
All was as Honour had left it but just as she was congratulating herself on a safe return and opened the door of the room, her luck deserted her and she found herself confronting her father who was stalking angrily down the passage outside.
'So! You are discovered! What have you to say for yourself, you abandoned wretch? How dare you flaunt yourself in such disgusting clothes? That a daughter of mine should be so wanton as to parade in breeches I would not have believed. You are depraved, past hope, a disgrace to your family! I knew you had faults, many faults, and I was bitterly aware of the fact I have not reared you as I should, but that you should act so shamelessly, so licentiously, makes me wonder what sin I have committed to have such a punishment inflicted on me. Go to your room, and put on more seemly attire. I am now go
ing to fetch my cane, and I will punish you as you deserve! No, not as you deserve, for no punishment is severe enough for the evil deeds you are guilty of! Go, get out of my sight in your robes of shame!'
Honour sighed, and stood aside to let him pass, then ran to her room, trembling slightly as she took off Ben's clothes and scrambled into a gown. She had often before been beaten, for her father considered it a sure way of obtaining her obedience, and Honour was frequently, from both forgetfulness and rebelliousness, disobedient, but his stern strictures made her certain that on this occasion he would whip her more severely than before, for her crime was far too great, in his eyes, for a lenient punishment.
He soon appeared, and the whipping was all she feared, so when he finally ceased, breathless, she was stiff and sore all over her back, and scarcely able to suppress the cries pride forbade her to utter.
'You will remain here, with but bread and water for sustenance, until you repent of your sins,' he informed her coldly, and left the room, returning in a short while with a maid who, casting a frightened glance at Honour as she lay face down on the bed, put down a pitcher of water and a small loaf, then gathered together some of Patience's possessions and bore them off, while Mr Atwell locked the door.
Now Honour could give way, and for a time she sobbed, stifling the sounds in the pillow, but then, as the sharpness of the pain died away into a dull ache, she cautiously sat up, wincing as the movement pained her, and washed her face. Her head was aching too, where the lump felt exceedingly tender, and she soaked a pad of linen and held it to her head as she sat on the bed and considered the situation.
'It was worth it,' she whispered defiantly. 'Whatever happens, I've seen a play!'
But what would happen? Was the beating the end of her punishment? Her father seemed to know all about it, from what he had said when he was beating her, but he had not mentioned Ben. What had become of Ben? Had he returned home and confessed when he could not find her? If that were so, she could scarce blame him, for he had considered himself responsible for her, despite his being a year younger. But what would her father do to him? Reluctant as she was to pretend to be sorry, Honour came to the conclusion that she had better demonstrate repentance soon, in an attempt to mitigate any punishment Ben was undergoing.
*
She had just reached that conclusion when there was a tapping from the room next door. The walls were thin, and Honour knew people could be heard speaking in the next room, so she listened intently.
'Honour! It's me, Patience!'
Honour rose from the bed and went close to the wall. 'What are you doing there? Be careful Father does not catch you!'
'Oh, he won't!' came the cheerful reply. 'He's sent me to bed too, and I'm to sleep here. He says I am impertinent because I asked what you were going to have for supper. So I've got bread and water too,' she added in disgust, 'but I don't mind for once as it gives me a chance to talk to you while they're all at supper. Honour, I think you're so brave! I wish I'd thought of it! And I wish you'd taken me!'
'Then you would have been beaten too,' Honour reminded her. 'Patience, what has Father done to Ben? Does he know?'
'That was what I was going to tell you. Oh, you've not seen such a panic as there was when Ben came running home to say you were lost!'
'Oh, the fool!' Honour exclaimed.
'Yes, but, Father and William Sutton were here, and they made him tell them all about it. Father was just going to set out to look for you, he'd gone upstairs to fetch another hat, when you came back.'
'What did he do to Ben?' Honour asked impatiently.
'He has sent him off!' Patience announced.
'What? Oh, no, he could not have done!'
'Well, he has! He said Ben had shown he was not trustworthy, and he would no longer have him in the house.'
'Where has Ben gone?'
'Oh, home, I expect.'
'But his family live in Bristol now! Don't you remember, they went to start a new branch of his uncle's business last year. He can't go to them!'
'Then he'll go to his uncle, I expect,' Patience said with little concern for Ben's fate. 'Tell me all about the theatre!'
'Ben's uncle died, and his aunt went to join his parents, silly!' Honour exclaimed. 'Oh, what shall I do? He has no money, and that's all my fault!'
'You can't do anything while you're locked in your room,' said Patience with infuriating logic. 'Why has he no money? He always has some,' she added, ruefully considering how unlike her own normal situation that was.
'Well, he hasn't now because he spent the last he had on getting seats in the pit!' Honour snapped. 'What will he do? He won't even be able to buy food!'
'I expect he'll go to a friend, someone like John Lane, that boy who's apprentice to Mr Forster further down Cheapside.'
'Mayhap he'll be able to help him a little, but I must see him, and beg his pardon! It's all my fault!'
'Well, you can't tonight, so please, darling Honour, tell me about the play!'
'Oh, I wish I'd never thought of going!' Honour said in distress, and to Patience's disgust refused to talk about it, or even to answer Patience when she continued to talk.
Sulkily Patience finally exclaimed she thought Honour deserved her beating, and retired into a hurt silence, leaving Honour free to indulge in her gloomy reflections.
*
She slept little, and was almost glad when, half way through the morning, having seen no one, and eaten the last of the bread, she was summoned to her father's office.
She went in slowly, wondering whether he would be still as furiously angry with her as he had been the previous day, or whether he would be cold and withdrawn, as he usually was when displeased with her. She found him impatiently mending a quill and waited just inside the door until he finished and wrote a few more words onto a paper, sanded it, and laid it aside. Then he turned to her.
'Well, do you repent of your wantonness?' he asked severely.
'I am sorry, Father, to have displeased you. Please, what have you done to Ben? It was not his fault, truly, it was all mine! Do not punish him!'
'He is gone. I will have no one about me I cannot trust, and he has shown himself incapable of correct behaviour. I will hear no more,' he said sternly as she opened her mouth to protest. 'I have a more serious matter to tell you of. Mr Sutton was here this morning.'
He paused, but Honour did not reply, simply looked back at him.
'William was here yesterday when you returned, and knew all about it. He was astonished and disgusted, and his father came to tell me he considers you no better than a whore, and in the circumstances no betrothal will take place. I must confess I cannot disagree with him about the impression you give, although I hope you will have learned your lesson. However, you are disgraced, and I do not know what I am to do with you.'
Honour had lowered her head suddenly when she heard that after all there was to be no marriage with the dour William, to hide the relief she knew showed in her face. At least her escapade had this one good result, and now, when Robert returned from his mysterious journey, her father might be glad to accept his offer. If he made one, an intrusive little voice within her whispered, but she shrugged away the thought, trying to convince herself Robert would have laughed at her exploit, not frowned on it as William did.
'I will try to be dutiful,' she murmured at last, realising her father was waiting for her to speak, and then sighed slightly as he launched into a long discourse on the behaviour he expected from his daughters, and issued many instructions as to the ways in which Honour was in future to conduct herself. He concluded with the order that she was to return straight to her room.
'You are to remain there for a month, and will see no one but the maid who will bring you food, the plainest food, and water,' he told her.
'May I not see Mother?' she gasped.
'No. She has been foolishly lenient with you in the past, and has pleaded for you this time, showing a want of sense I deplore. I mean no one, not even myself.
By the time you are permitted to join the family again, I hope I may have arranged another betrothal for you, and can hand you straight into the keeping of a husband who will know how to control you. Now go.'
*
Honour's thoughts were racing. She would be unable to see Ben, to apologise and try to help him, and if her father did what he planned she would be in a worse position when she was finally freed. And she could not even see her mother, who had always loved and comforted her! It was intolerable!
She had her foot on the first step, as she automatically went towards her room, and then she stopped.
'I will not!' she muttered to herself, and whirled round so suddenly the maid who had been summoned by her father to go with her and lock the door could do no more than squeak in dismay as Honour sped past her and darted through the door of the house out into the street.
Cheapside was fortunately a busy thoroughfare, with the stalls displaying a multitude of goods, and the carts and carriages thronging it. Honour was soon hidden from view, and she hurried along, making for the shop Patience had mentioned, that belonged to Mr Forster, a mercer like her father.
She was fortunate, for she had barely reached the shop when she saw Ben sitting disconsolately on a step a few yards further along.
'Ben! Oh, thank heavens I've found you! We must talk, but not here, they'll be looking for me. Come, we can hide in Bow Churchyard.'
She took his arm to urge him on, and he, bemused, followed her unprotesting, until they were hidden behind a massive tomb at the far end of the churchyard.
'Ben, I am so very, very sorry!' she exclaimed.
'No, 'twas all my fault! I should have known better than to go back and tell them, but I was so afraid for you. What happened? I've been so worried, for your father did not even tell me you'd come home!'
'We got separated coming out of the theatre, and while I was waiting for you, I was knocked over and lost my senses!'
'What!' he exclaimed, aghast. 'That is dreadful!'
'No, not so dreadful, for the man whose horse I had been holding took me into his house and gave me wine, and then insisted on taking me home in a chair.'
Player's Wench Page 4