The Wanton Princess

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by Dennis Wheatley


  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 recognised 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 mare’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 drunken 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 see 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 b
egan 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.

  It was unthinkable, unbelievable. Georgina had betrayed him. Instead of sending her groom into Guildford for the money she had sent him to fetch the law. There could be no other explanation. The man was actually pointing to the end of the loft where Roger had talked to her after she had returned from her ride. Still shocked into immobility, he subconsciously took in the fact that the tipstaff was carrying a blunderbuss and that the constables were armed with long-barrelled pistols as well as their truncheons.

  Suddenly Roger came to life. To allow himself to be taken and ignominiously escorted back to gaol would be intolerable. Yet he was unarmed, so could not put up a fight, and was trapped there; for there were no entrances to the building other than those giving on to the yard.

  Next moment he had dropped through the hole in the floor. As his feet touched the ground he grabbed the mane of the startled mare in the loose box below to steady himself. Georgina’s groom having been sent in to Guildford, he had not yet taken away her saddle to clean it. Lifting the saddle from its bracket Roger threw it on the mare’s back and swiftly tightened the girths. In frantic haste he adjusted the bit and bridle then, patting the animal’s neck, turned her to face the door. When he had called down to Georgina she had left her riding crop lying on the manger. Snatching it up he vaulted into the saddle, then laid his body flat along the mare’s back, so that her head screened a good part of him from sight. In the dim light, there was a good chance that anyone entering the stable would not immediately notice him.

  He had got himself into position not a moment too soon. The upper half of the stable door was a little open. It was cautiously opened wide. Then the lower half was unbolted and pulled back. Roger caught only a glimpse of the huddle of figures in the doorway about to enter on tiptoe, no doubt hoping to catch him asleep up in the loft. Jabbing his heels into the mare’s flanks he gave a loud shout and launched her forward.

  With cries of alarm the group in the doorway attempted to throw themselves out of her way but the tipstaff and one of the constables were bowled over by the charge of the frightened mare. The groom, who had been behind the others and furthest from the door, made a grab at her bridle. But Roger had been ready for that. He brought the whiplash of the crop down with all his force right across the man’s face. With a scream he crumpled to the ground. The hooves of the mare clattered loudly on the cobbles. There came the bang of a pistol as the other constable fired his weapon, but the bullet whizzed harmlessly over Roger’s shoulder. Thirty seconds later he was through the arch and away.

  As he galloped across the lawn towards the cover of the woods on the far side of the lake he considered the best course to take. He was still penniless so must get hold of money somehow. London was only twenty-five miles away and on such a fine mount he felt certain he could outdistance his pursuers. Droopy would help him without question. There was a certain risk in going to him because the Governor of Guildford Gaol, knowing Droopy to be his friend, might anticipate that he would do so and that morning have sent a message to London for the Bow Street Runners to lie in wait for him at Amesbury House. But that risk must be taken.

  It had been just before midday when Georgina left him, so it was now getting on towards three in the afternoon. By five o’clock he was in Arlington Street and he felt there was less risk in going straight to the house than waiting until darkness fell. He was confident that he had a lead on his pursuers, but he would lose it within an hour; and if the Runners had not already been alerted to waylay him there, it seemed certain that a message would be sent asking them to do so as soon as the authorities in Guildford learned that he had got away from Stillwaters.

  Dismounting in front of the door, he kept the mare’s reins over his arm in case he had to remount in a hurry and again make a dash for liberty. The footman who answered the door said that Lord Edward was out, but expected back at about six o’clock. Roger knew the man well and had often given him a good tip; so when he replied to Roger’s low-voiced enquiry whether anyone had asked for him and replied, ‘No, sir,’ Roger had good grounds for believing him. Roger then said that he had called to see Lord Edward on a highly confidential matter so if anyone asked for him he was to be told he was not there. Then he handed the horse over to be taken round to the stable and went upstairs to Droopy’s private apartments.

  Until nearly seven o’clock he waited there in considerable apprehension for, however loyal the footman on the door might prove, if Bow Street Runners arrived and produced a warrant, he could not prevent them from searching the house.

  At last Droopy appeared. He was slightly drunk after spending four hours dining at the Beefsteak Club and afterwards consuming the best part of a decanter of Port. But he exclaimed, ‘Roger! Makes me old heart beat better at the sight of you. But, dam’me! I didn’t expect to see you before tomorrow at the earliest.’

  ‘Tomorrow!’ Roger repeated, much surprised. ‘And why, pray, should you have expected to see me then?’

  ‘Then, or within the next few days,’ Droopy lowered himself with some care into an elbow chair. ‘But meseems they’ve been prodigious swift to act upon their orders.’

  ‘I don’t understand!’ Roger frowned. ‘To what orders do you refer?’

  ‘Why to those for your pardon, of course.’

  ‘Pardon! Dear God, you cannot mean it.’

  ‘I.… I do indeed. After your father’s failure and His Grace of Portland’s refusal to approach His Majesty I was loath to raise your hopes again, lest they be once more disappointed. But I … I went down to see Billy Pitt. He’s no power now … more’s the pity. But he agreed that something must be done for you, and … and the King could not refuse him an audience. He told our poor addle-brained monarch that even had you blown up the Houses of Parliament which, as things are would be no bad thing,’ Droopy broke off and tittered, ‘you … you still deserved a pardon for the immense services you have in these past ten years rendered to the State. Whatever may be said against “Farmer George,” he … he has ever put what he believes to be the interests of our country before all else. Billy Pitt is no fool. He’d had the forethought to bring a parchment with him in his pocket. Before the old dunderhead could have second thoughts, he had him sign it.’

  Roger took a deep breath, ‘So I’m free! Oh, Ned, dear Ned, bless you for that. I’ll go pay my respects to Mr. Pitt tomorrow and thank him for his share in this. But ’tis to you I owe it.’

  ‘Think naught of that. You look, though, in a sadly bedraggled state. Order yourself a bath brought up and a change of raiment. Meanwhile I … I’ll stretch myself for two hours on my bed. Then we’ll sally forth together and go to old Kate’s place behind the Haymarket. Sup there, have her pretty wenches disport themselves for us, eh? And … and make a night of it.’

  Hardly able to believe in his good fortune, Roger rested and refreshed himself. Later old Kate received them with many curtsies. Droopy threw handsful of golden guineas on the floor and laughed uproariously as the girls scrambled for them, then fought to sit on his and Roger’s knees and show their appreciation of this generous patronage.

  In the small hours the two friends returned to Amesbury House, decidedly the worse for wear and, arm in arm, supported one another up the stairs. It was eleven o’clock next morning when Roger woke, but over a late breakfast they knocked back a couple of bottles of Florence wine and felt the better for it.

  Roger then rode down to
Beckenham; but his thoughts were the saddest he had had for many a day, as he could not get over Georgina’s betrayal of him. At Holwell House Mr. Pitt received him kindly and said:

  ‘Mr. Brook, we have had many differences of opinion, but that does not alter the fact that you have served England far better than many more eminent men of your generation. Owing to the secret nature of your work, I was unable to recommend you for a knighthood; thus there was all the more reason for coming to your assistance when you fell into grievous trouble. Naturally I deprecate the crime of violence for which you were condemned, but the life you have led must have forced upon you many dangerous and desperate situations; so, to some extent, the habit you have acquired of resorting on the instant to weapons must be accounted a mitigation of your act. Let us now forget it.’

  Mr. Pitt was alone that day and invited Roger to stay to dinner. Roger accepted as both a command and a pleasure. Over the meal Pitt talked freely of the situation.

  He had been such a close friend of Addington’s that when ill the previous year he had stayed in his house and been treated as one of the family; so most men would have taken it hard that such an intimate friend, when sent for behind his back by the king, should have consented to supplant him. But Pitt bore Addington no malice and as a private Member was giving him his support.

  About the King’s attitude to Catholic Emancipation he was caustic, declaring that His Majesty’s ostrich-like policy was both dangerous and unjust toward many thousands of his loyal subjects; that the days when ‘Popery’ was a danger to the realm were long since gone, and that it was now entirely unreasonable that many patriotic and intelligent men should remain debarred from holding office because they were either Dissenters or Romans.

 

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