‘No,’ Cutch said. ‘It bodes ill, this manhunt.’
‘Why? It will prove me innocent.’
‘Think, Kate. It will be an almighty scandal in the county when Thomas is caught. Sir Simon’s on his way home, expecting you to wed Downall. But once he knows Thomas is alive… well, blood’s blood, and if I know your stepfather, he’ll try to find a way to get Thomas off, and shove the blame elsewhere. And even if he doesn’t, then Downall will still be there, waiting to take you to the altar. And Thomas is bound to tell his father about Jamie.’
‘Saddle Blaze for me. I need to take a ride.’ I had to get out of there. I was suffocating.
‘Saddle him yourself. There’s got to be an end to this. Abi can’t give up her life for you.’
‘It’s not for me,’ I shouted. ‘It’s for Jamie. Just a few more days, that’s all I ask. I’ll think of something.’
‘A few more days might be too late. We have to get Jamie away, Kate. And if you won’t come with us, we’ll go without you.’
23: The Intruder
Downall moved in that night, supposedly as my protection from the highwayman. A wagon arrived, bringing his trunks and cases and it filled me with despair. It felt as though I was shackled. I had to do something. They would catch Thomas, and then my secret about Jamie would be out. That morning a black crow had landed on my windowsill, and stared at me, its bead-like eyes full of knowing. It had felt like a summons, and I’d had the strange desire to follow it; to lift up black wings and fly.
With Downall in the house, it was a few hours before I could sneak to the barn, down through the priest hole. When I got there, Abi looked tired, her eyes red rimmed from lack of sleep. Jamie was awake and alert, wanting to reach out to take hold of one of my coppery ringlets and tug at it with his little chubby fingers. Cutch had given him a rattle he’d made – a wonky wooden handle with a smooth carved bone wedged on top. He’d drilled a hole and attached some tiny copper bells. When I waved it, Jamie reached out to try and grab hold.
‘Look,’ I said. ‘He wants the rattle, but he doesn’t want to let go of my hair.’
‘He’s going to be like Ralph,’ Abi said. ‘Not like you. His hair’s coming through blond.’
Jamie finally managed to cling to the rattle. One of the bells immediately fell off and tinkled down.
‘I’ll fix that,’ Cutch said, scooping it up. ‘Just needs a better peg.’
Abigail smiled at him. ‘It was a good idea, Cutch. Look, he likes it.’
Jamie’s eyes were fixed on it, his face so open and soft. I didn’t want to pass him back to Abi. I didn’t want to leave him to go back to the house. My stomach churned. This whole situation couldn’t go on, not now Downall was actually in the house, and deep within me lurked a growing unease, like a pressure building.
I could bear it no more. ‘I’ve thought about it,’ I blurted. ‘What you said about going away. I’ll get a few things packed this evening. Anything with any value. Then tomorrow, early, before Downall wakes, I’ll take Jamie, and I’ll set off for London. Nobody will know us there. I’ll try to find some work. Do something…’
Abi looked to Cutch, questioningly.
‘She says she’ll leave,’ Cutch explained. ‘Go somewhere else.’
‘When? I’ll go with you,’ Abi said.
‘Both of us,’ Cutch said firmly.
‘No,’ I said. ‘Thomas or Sir Simon might send people after me, and I don’t want to put you in an awkward position.’
Abi reached out a hand to me, and I took it. ‘We’re coming, and that’s that.’
Cutch grinned. ‘I’ll have the horses ready. Bring a big cloth to use as a sling to carry Jamie in whilst you’re riding.’
‘You won’t regret it,’ Abi said. She took my arm and squeezed it. ‘We’ll start again. There’s nothing to leave behind here, but bad memories.’
*
I found a leather holdall and filled it with some silver from the dining room, and with some essential clothing.
I stood a long time in the main chamber. It did not seem real that I would leave here and never come back. I could still see my mother, sitting in that chair by the hearth, her embroidery on her lap, the eyeglass hung around her neck, the soft creases round her eyes. She’d given up so much to keep this house for me, and I knew every carved rose on the panelling, every diamond pane at the windows. I went up the stairs slowly, my hand trailing on the smooth wood of the banister. I rested my hand a moment on the carved acorn finial at the top. I could not imagine myself anywhere else. A blessing or a curse, Ralph had said.
Perhaps it had been a curse after all.
Inside my chamber, I paced feverishly, jumping at every hoot of an owl. After a few hours of restlessness, exhaustion overcame me and I lay down. Instantly I fell into a slumber. Dreams of running, my feet stuck in mud, and then escaping, only to find brambles wrapped around my ankles.
My eyes snapped open. A rustle.
There was someone in my room. I sat bolt upright on the bed, ears straining. My first thought was that it might be Abi. I called her name softly, but there was no answer.
A dark shadow at the end of the bed. And the smell of smoke. Acrid, in the back of my throat. The figure moved feverishly, breath heavy and hoarse.
‘Who’s there?’
No answer. But the shape continued to move round the room.
‘Be quiet.’ The voice made my body turn cold, the blood seemed to drain from my veins.
‘Thomas. How did you get in?’
‘With a key of course. I still own this house. Or had you forgotten?’
As he spoke I slid off the bed, lit a taper from the last of the burning embers of the fireplace and held it up.
He cringed away from the light as I lit a candle on the mantel. It was then that I saw he was wounded. Blood had painted the front of his doublet with a dark stain. His face was gaunt, and purple shadows played under his eyes. He clutched his shoulder with an unsteady hand.
‘Hide me, Katherine.’
‘Why should I?’
‘You’re my wife. You’ll do as I say.’ His eyes were cold and glassy.
‘No, Thomas. Please don’t do this.’
‘Move. Unless you want a bullet through the head. And then where would the bastard babe be?’
I grabbed a short cloak from the back of the door and fastened the frogging. I thanked God that Jamie was in the barn with Cutch and Abi.
Hoof beats outside the window. I turned to look out, but Thomas pushed past me and swept open the curtain. ‘Here already,’ he said. ‘Don’t open the door.’
‘But what will—?’
‘Hush!’ Thomas clapped a hand over my mouth; pressed a pistol to my temple. From the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of men dismounting in the yard, shouting to each other in the pale light of dawn, splitting up and surrounding the house. I saw the glint of musket barrels and pistols.
My first thought was Jamie in the barn. I had to get to Jamie.
Downstairs I heard the servants open the door, and angry voices in the hall.
‘No, no one’s come here, sir,’ I heard the housemaid say.
‘Then we’ll search the place. Where’s Lady Katherine?’ the voice of Jacob.
‘Abed, sir,’ the housemaid said. ‘Like most sensible folk.’
‘Then wake her. That’s if she’s here.’ Noise of jangling swords and boots on floorboards. Outside a horse neighed a high-pitched whinny. ‘We three will take upstairs then, and you take downstairs.’
The clatter of heels on the stairs. Thomas grabbed me tighter, put the gun to my throat.
‘Mistress?’ The timid knock of the housemaid.
‘Answer it.’ Thomas pushed me forward. He hid himself just behind the door, the pistol trained on my head.
The heavier knock startled me even though I knew it was coming. I opened the door a few inches. Jacob Mallinson and another man in Puritan black were on the landing.
I drew myself up, and tr
ied to be calm, though my heart twitched like a bird’s. ‘This is a fine time to be calling, Jacob.’
‘The servants told me you were still abed, but you don’t look like you’ve been sleeping to me.’
‘I have many duties that get me up early,’ I retorted, resolutely keeping my eyes from Thomas. He’d shoot if I gave him away.
‘Would one of them include seeing to your injured husband?’
‘Why so? I haven’t seen him. You know as well as I do, he’s been missing for months.’ From the corner of my eyes I saw the muzzle of the gun glinting, only feet from my head.
Jacob was staring at me with hatred in his face. His complexion was waxy white, though smeared with dark smuts. My eyes strayed to his sword arm. His hand was black as coal, gripping the hilt of his sword as if he did not want to let it go.
‘We shot a man on the road,’ Jacob said. ‘But he galloped off. A highwayman. There were two of them. Not only did they kill the publican from the Royal Oak, but then they set fire to the Binch’s cottage. We couldn’t save it. Nor could we save the occupants inside. It was terrible.’
‘What do you mean?’ My hand faltered on the door, and I glanced to Thomas. He raised his gun in warning.
‘They torched the house. It went up like brush fire. By the time we got there the neighbours were screaming, and we couldn’t get in. The heat… it was too much. It burned our eyebrows. We couldn’t fight through the heat, though we tried. Like hellfire, it was.’
‘Mrs Binch…?’
‘Her and her son. They were in there somewhere, but none of us could get in.’
‘God’s breath,’ I said, clinging to the door.
Jacob struggled to make the words. ‘The neighbours said they saw them do it. Two masked highwaymen. One went right round the thatch with a flame. Johnson tried to stop him, but he hit him with the burning brand. Johnson’s face is red raw blistered. Said it was Fanshawe – your husband. So what I want to know, is where is he now, and where is the other man… or woman?’
‘No. Thomas wouldn’t do a thing like that.’
I bit my lip. I was thinking of the old Thomas, not the man I had seen shoot that apprentice in cold blood, not the man who had tried to take Jamie. Not the man who even now held a gun pointing at my head. And who was the other man, the man who had remained in the shadows all this time?
Jacob lunged forward, took hold of my arm, his fingers sharp through the sleeve. ‘Where’s he hiding, Kate?’
I froze, praying Jacob would not see my legs quaking. ‘I don’t know.’
He grabbed my other arm, and shook me until my teeth rattled. ‘Kate. People are dead because of your husband. They’ll never come back, don’t you understand?’ He failed to control the quaver in his voice. ‘I know you never knew the Gawthorpes, but my father… and Mrs Binch? She was such a good soul, and you should have seen the cottage, it was like… like hell. Tell me where he is. I know you’re hiding something—’
‘He’s not here. That’s all I can say.’ I willed him to believe me.
Instead his face hardened. ‘You Fanshawes. You’re all the same. Stick together like shit to a stall. We’ll find him, though. And when we do, I’ll…’ He shook his head, and with a sudden push, shoved me away, so I stumbled back into the room. ‘You’re not worth it.’ He turned away from me to lope down the stairs. ‘Search her chamber.’
I stood back, as Jacob’s men rushed in, waiting for the shots when Thomas was discovered, but there were none.
‘No one there, sir,’ the man in black came out, and called over the bannister.
I rushed into the room, but he was right. There was no sign of Thomas. My heart sank. But I knew exactly where he’d gone. The old priest hole. It led out to the library. No doubt Thomas had made his getaway by now. I prayed Jacob would intercept him as he tried to take horse.
The men clattered back down the stairs, and I heard the front door bang closed and voices in the yard again. I hurried to the window, saw Cutch mount his horse and set off with the rest. So Abi must be all right, or he wouldn’t have left her, I thought. I must go to them.
The house was suddenly silent. I was surprised that Downall had not been roused by the noise. Perhaps he had gone with Jacob’s men too. I saw his door was ajar, so I pushed it open.
What I saw made me retreat back onto the landing.
Downall was lying on the floor next to the washstand. He’d obviously been shaving because soap was still lathered round his face.
But of the razor, there was no sign. And his throat was cut from ear to ear.
24: Hostage to Fortune
The room began to spin. I put a hand up to my mouth.
Had Thomas done this too? A noise behind me made me whip round.
The muzzle of the gun was at face level. ‘You see, I don’t forget those who swore against the king,’ Thomas said.
I slumped back against the wall. So he had been hiding in the house all along. Cutch and Jacob’s men were on a wild goose chase.
‘I don’t suppose you want to look on his corpse, so come with me now,’ Thomas said. ‘I’ve a carriage waiting.’
‘No, Thomas.’ I kept my voice low and reasonable. ‘I did what I could for you, but I’m not coming with you.’
‘Why? Because of the bastard babe? Grice will have him by now, and your maidservant too. It was his idea to search them out.’
The word was like an explosion in my mind. Grice. I’d thought he was dead. The name sent a cold wave of fear up my spine.
‘What have you done with Jamie?’ I shouted. ‘Tell me! Let me by!’
He swayed slightly, barring my way. ‘You’ll see him soon if you come with me. I see you’re surprised. Grice and I have been working together. My uncle’s weak; too ready to give in to Cromwell. But there’s a whole network of men like us, men under cover, who fought for the king.’
Two highway thieves. I saw it in one swoop. The other was Grice. Now I knew, I wondered why I was so stupid not to have seen it before. That was why the man never dismounted – because of his wooden foot. Grice had lost a foot at the battle of Naseby.
‘Grice has been coaching me on matters of survival,’ Thomas said. ‘And on much else for the Royalist cause, besides.’
‘Let me past!’ I launched myself at him and forced my way through. I ran for the stairs holding my skirts above my knees in my haste. As I ran through the hall, the doors to the principal rooms shut one by one, as the servants hid their prying eyes.
Across the field. Heart pounding. Feet skidding on the slippery grass.
I yanked open the barn door. ‘Abi?’ I shouted. ‘Abi?’
I lit a candle lantern with shaking hands. There was no sign of Abi or Jamie. The barn was silent and empty. I threw up stooks of hay, hoping to see the small wooden crate Jamie used to lie in, but there was nothing there. It was as if they had never existed.
Frantic, I climbed the ladder to the hayloft – nothing. Down again. Empty. Out of the door. ‘Abi!’ I yelled.
‘You won’t find her.’ Thomas stood quietly in the yard, pressing his wounded shoulder, his hand slick with blood.
‘Where’s my baby? Just tell me where he is.’
‘The carriage is behind the hedge there, I suggest—’
But I was away, stumbling across the wet mud, breath coming hard in my chest. Feet tripping, half stumbling. A dark silhouette – the carriage; a boxy two-hander with one wheel askew. I slowed. I could not see Grice, or any sign of life. I was wary.
I went closer. I got to within four or five yards when I heard a baby cry.
‘Jamie,’ I almost wept his name. I covered the distance to the carriage in two bounds, dragged open the door and there inside were Abi and Jamie. Abi’s face was white as whey in the early light. She was clutching Jamie, cowering back against the door.
Opposite was a tall figure leaning back on the leather headrest.
Grice.
‘Katherine Fanshawe,’ he said. ‘It’s been a while. I never th
ought to see any of the Fanshawes again, but then, I guess you never thought to see me either. Yet here I am.’ He was relaxed, his bad leg crossed easily over the other. ‘I’m like wheat, though, however often you cut me down, I spring up again.’
I tried to reach for Jamie, but Grice pushed his musket to Jamie’s head. Jamie twitched but did not stir. He was too little to recognise the musket for what it was. But Abi cringed back. If he was to shoot, she knew she would die with him.
‘This isn’t necessary,’ I said, my voice more measured than I felt. ‘Tell me what you want.’
‘You will come with us. If you don’t, I shall shoot. Get in. Thomas will drive.’
‘Where are you taking us?’
‘I won’t ask again.’
I climbed in. I’d humour him until I could find a way to get Jamie away. But what about Abi? I couldn’t leave her with Grice either. My mind ran round in circles.
The carriage lurched into motion. I glanced to Abi, tried to catch her eye, but she would not look up. If the two of us could do something, maybe we could overpower him. But at the same time I knew the risk to Jamie was too great. We’d have to wait, bide our time.
‘What are you doing this for?’ I asked.
Grice smiled. ‘For the future.’ He leaned forward, his narrow eyes fixed on mine. I saw that his clothes were filthy, his beard matted. There was a deep cut over one cheekbone and the smell of him, like sour pond water, made me want to cover my nose. ‘I don’t matter, you don’t matter,’ he said. ‘It took me a long time to realise it. What matters is the future of the country. That England should be under divine rule again, like it should be. You won’t understand because you’re still a child.’
‘I’m not a child—’ I began to protest.
‘Oh yes you are, despite the fact you’ve somehow produced a babe of your own. You never knew the old days, when the king ruled and the land was at peace. I’ve seen men blown up by cannon fire, trampled by horses, their guts ripped out by musket balls. What were they doing it for, if not for a principle? They’d do it again if you asked them. Their ghosts stand behind me, the comrades in arms that stood beside me for the divine right and never made it home. If I give up now, what will it have been for?’
Lady of the Highway Page 15