Cavalier Courtship

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by Oliver, Marina


  'What shall I do? They will make me go out with him, and I could not bear that – I am afraid of what he might do! I would rather die.'

  'Hush, little one. There is no need for that. We'll find a way out, never fear. Miriam won't let any harm come to ye.'

  *

  Caroline spent the rest of the morning in Miriam's comforting presence, but just before dinner, Aunt Jane came to find her, furious she had disobeyed her over the ride with the Colonel.

  'I can see you need a firm hand, and I am going to make sure you feel one!' she stormed. 'You will go to your room, and you will stay there, with nothing but bread and water, until you deign to obey me, and show civility and compliance to our guests. I will not have them treated in such a fashion, kept waiting for a chit of a girl who has the temerity to decide she will do as she pleases with her time rather than do as she is bid. So to ill treat someone who was kindly disposed towards you! It is senseless, for he might have solved the problem of what we are to do with you, for you are indeed a problem, and I see no solution.'

  Caroline did not reply, for fear that if she did, her tears would disgrace her before her aunt. She had had enough of the woman's railing and spite, and desired only to escape, whether it be to bread and water, or not.

  Aunt Jane gave Miriam firm instructions on how Caroline was to be treated, and swept from the room. Caroline stood up.

  'I must do as she bids me, Miriam, or I will bring trouble to you too. But I will never willingly be alone with that – that – beast – again.'

  Comforting her as well as possible, Miriam took her to her room, as Aunt Jane had ordered. Later, defying these orders, she brought Caroline some pigeon pie for her supper.

  It was three days before Caroline saw either her aunt or uncle again, then one afternoon after dinner, Uncle John came to her room, and treated her to the full fury of his eloquence. She winced at the anger behind the words, the meanings of them passed over her. Finally she realised what her uncle was saying, as if through a haze. He was ordering her to appear at supper that night, and do her best to entertain the Colonel.

  'We have told him you are indisposed, but he is mightily taken with you, it seems. Your aunt believes that if we are clever, he might be induced to offer for you. That, in your present circumstances, would be an excellent outcome. I trust you will be sensible and behave in a becoming fashion.'

  'Uncle John. Please do not force me to this. I do not like him. He – he frightens me. I beg you, please do not do this. I beg and entreat you! I will work here as a servant, anything, but I could not bear to think of marriage with that man. He – oh, he causes me to shiver whenever I see him or even think of him. Please, Uncle – '

  'Cease this unseemly wailing!' her uncle interrupted. 'You know not what you are talking of. If you do not obey me in this, you will be whipped like an ungrateful cur. I have given you a home and educated you as befits your gentle birth, but there is something within you that defies correction. If words will not eradicate it, then we shall see what a whip may do.'

  On that, he turned brusquely and left the room. Caroline was beyond tears. Her one thought was to escape, and she remembered how she had climbed out of the window and visited Benny.

  Without stopping to think, she opened the window and looked out. There was no one about, and she hastily climbed down and hid behind the hedges. Alternately running and walking, she soon reached Benny's cottage. He saw at once that she was distressed, and bade her wait outside.

  He called to his daughter, and sent her hurrying to a neighbour for some special ale which had been promised him. As soon as Martha had departed – with a suspicious glance at Caroline, Benny called the girl into the big kitchen, and told her to sit down by the hearth. She was no longer tearful, but angry and frightened, and she told him all that had happened.

  'There, now, lass. We must think what can be done. We can't let you be wed to that brute. I know the likes of him. He'd rape you for a month, then leave you whilst he chased some other lass. No. You'll be wed to him over my dead body. Your dear parents left you in my charge at Naseby battle, and I can serve them by preventing this match, which they'd never approve of.'

  Caroline smiled at the old man, cheered by finding an ally who thought as she did.

  But what could he do? He was old and frail, unable to move without the aid of a stick, and with no influence.

  'What can I do, Benny? If I do not obey Uncle John, he will have me whipped. I know he means it. I will never forget the day he whipped one of the stable lads. It – it made me sick. He seemed to be enjoying himself! He was hitting with all his power. If he did that to me, I could not bear it. I would die, I know I would.'

  'Never fear. I have a plan, for I've long thought one day you'd need to escape this house. But it will only serve if you are brave and can conceal your feelings. Can you dissemble?'

  'Benny! You think I could really escape all this? How? Tell me.'

  'You'll also need to be patient,' observed the old man drily.

  'Of course I will, but the thought of escaping this horror near overwhelms me!'

  'Can you dissemble?'

  'I think I can, if much depends on it. I have never been loth to do so to escape one of Uncle John's punishments, for most of them I thought undeserved or unreasonable.'

  ' 'Tis well. Now, are you prepared to leave home – for ever?'

  'Leave home? Leave Uncle John? Could I?'

  'There are other places to live, but you might have to work for your bread some of the time.'

  'There's nothing I'd like better than to go away from his house. I hate everything here, particularly since Aunt Jane has changed the house so much. I have often dreamed of it, yet not known how to set about it. Tell me, what could I do? How could I get work? Uncle John would soon find me and bring me back.'

  'Not if you were brave and ventured much. And if my plan is a good one, and I warrant it is, you might soon find a kinder home than this.'

  'I will do anything to get away from here. Tell me what your plan is, Benny.'

  'You remember Mistress Kenny?'

  'Hannah, the old housekeeper, who was turned off by Aunt Jane? Yes.'

  'Aye. She was always a friend to us – often she sent us tasty titbits. I have once or twice had word by the carrier that she has a position in London. Last time she sent to tell me that her employers are related to Sir Christopher and Lady Tomas.'

  'Who are they? And how does this help me?'

  'Lady Tomas is your father's sister, Mary.'

  'My – I didn't know he had any relatives. Uncle John has never spoken of her. Are you sure of this?'

  'I saw her often, before your father's estates were confiscated. Your uncle will never speak of her because she and all her family were for the King, and he is so bigoted he cannot bear the thought of being in any way connected with the Royalists. The family live very quietly now, but they would certainly give you shelter, and whatever life held for you with them, it could hardly be worse than it is for you here.'

  'Benny, this is wonderful! To think I have never known. Oh, everything is going to be well, I know it is.'

  'Be not too sure. You have still to get to this aunt. That is the difficulty. Have you any money?'

  'No. I have never been given any.'

  'I feared so. And I am in no position to help you, as all I have is a small pension from your uncle, barely enough to keep us.'

  'Then how shall I manage?'

  'You will have to ride. It will mayhap be best, as it would be easy to trace you if you went by the carrier or on the stage. If you take one of the best horses, you could get to London in five or six days. Thank the Lord it's springtime, and the roads are not impassable, though the weather is mighty bad. Then you can find Hannah, and I know she will look after you and help you reach your aunt.'

  'Ride to London? By myself? It would be a great adventure, but what of you? If any find out you have aided me, you will be turned out of this cottage to become a beggar.'

&nb
sp; 'Never fear for me, lass. I can look after myself. Could you – dare you do it? There are many dangers on the road, and you would have only the little money I can give you, which mayhap would buy a few loaves. I have no more. But can you get yourself a supply of food from the pantry which would last you the journey, if all goes well?'

  'Yes, I think so. I must do it, Benny! These last days I have been near despair. I have forgotten what it is to be even mildly happy. I was losing my spirit – which a soldier's daughter ought never to do. Now you have given me hope, and I am ready to face the Protector himself if only it releases me from Uncle John and the horrible life here.'

  *

  Caroline, flushed, and looking suddenly more beautiful than ever before, danced gaily round the kitchen, holding out her skirts and laughing with joy. Benny watched with a mixture of pride, love, and apprehension on his face. He knew the course he had urged on the girl was dangerous, but he fully shared Caroline's fear and hatred of the Colonel – perhaps more. The Colonel's men had not been silent in the village about his doings, and Benny had heard things that had shocked him, worldly wise though he was.

  He felt it was time to plan in earnest.

  'There is no need to delay. You must go home and down to supper as you are bid, for it will make your uncle think you are coming to share his views. But you must not look so joyous, or the Colonel will be offering for you this night!'

  'I cannot help looking joyous. The relief of escaping will show in every look, every move.'

  'Then it must not, or it will destroy your chances, lass. Here is where you must dissemble. Be polite to the Colonel, but do not appear too happy. They will think you are obedient because you are afraid. If you show such high spirits they will be mistrustful.'

  'I will put on a Sunday face. I will not meet the Colonel's eyes, but glance modestly at my plate when he addresses me. If I have to reply, I will murmur so low that no one hears me. They will be so gratified I appear compliant they will not object to such minor faults. But when can I leave? How long must I carry on this pretence? If I meet the Colonel alone, I shall undo all, for I could not show compliance to him then. I would be too frightened!'

  'Go to supper, and make sure you eat well. After supper, plead that you are tired. After all, your uncle has said you have been indisposed. He will not be able to contradict you. Then you must rest awhile, and as soon as the house is asleep, you must pack what food you can from the pantry, and saddle one of the strongest and fastest horses, and get away. It is near full moon, and you will be able to travel well by night. You must find a place to sleep during the day, for fear you are seen and word gets back to your uncle. This for two nights at least, and two days. Then it should be safe to travel by day, and faster too. If you take a heavy cloak you will come to no harm from sleeping rough.'

  'Which way shall I take?'

  'Go by Warwick and Banbury, towards Oxford. Before Oxford, in Woodstock, ask for the house of Mr Hales. My nephew is his groom, and will help you on your way from there.'

  'I must ride astride. I am used to it, fortunately, and it will be quicker.'

  'That is well. Can you find some boys' clothes? You would arouse less comment riding alone if you were dressed as a boy.'

  'And I will cut off my hair.' Caroline was very excited by now, and as quick with adding further touches to the scheme as Benny.

  'Aye. That must go, but 'tis a pity.'

  'It will grow again, and if I am to look like a boy, I can scarce have locks down past my waist.'

  'Where can you get some boys' clothes? Have you any for when you ride out astraddle?' asked Benny.

  'No, indeed! What would Uncle John say if he saw me in breeches? I hitch up my skirts, which is much less decorous, but I can hardly do that on the road to London. London! London and Aunt Mary. Away from here, away from the gloom and the sermons! Oh, Benny, I am so happy I could fly like a bird, and get to London town in less time than it takes to sit through supper.'

  'I have none that would fit you,' said Benny, smiling at her excitement, but relentlessly returning to the practical considerations. 'Can you get some from the house?'

  'One of the stable lads is friendly, and would do anything for me. He sleeps over the stables, and I can rouse him when I get the horse. He will give me his best breeches and a shirt and coat. They will fit me, for we are much the same height, though he is younger than I. And he will not say a word. He has helped me tend a sick dog, and cares for all downtrodden creatures – I know he would not betray me! When I get to Aunt Mary's I will send you some money to give to him for buying new ones. Will you do that? I dare not send anything to him directly at the house, for fear of betraying him.'

  'Are you sure he can keep a still tongue?'

  'I would swear it.'

  'Then that is everything. Now you had best go home and prepare for supper. It is nearly time, and it would not do to be late. God go with you, lass.'

  Caroline ran to the old man, and flung her arms round him. She was sad to be leaving him, but the prospects of a new life soon drove away sorrow, and with plans for asking her Aunt Mary to send for Benny dancing round in her mind, she soon recovered her cheerfulness.

  'I will send by the carrier to tell you when I arrive,' she promised.

  She then left the cottage, and turned, smiling and waving, to see the old man, her only link with her parents, shielding his weak eyes from the sun as he strained for a last glimpse of her going down the lane.

  *

  Chapter 5

  Caroline reached her room undetected, but it was late, and she had to hurry to prepare herself for supper. Finally she was ready, just as one of the maids came to unlock her door and tell her that her uncle was awaiting her.

  She went downstairs with outward calm, and inward trepidation. She scarcely glanced at the Colonel, who made no attempt to win her attention, beyond a civil greeting. He continued to talk with Aunt Jane, who, after a sharp look at Caroline, ignored her presence. Uncle John greeted her, then turned his gaze to the window. This reception was unnerving to the girl, and she was relieved when they soon went into the dining hall for supper.

  In spite of Benny's advice, she was unable to eat much. The talk round the table was desultory. Two or three times Aunt Jane tried to force Caroline to join in the conversation, but apart from lack of inclination, she had not been listening, and her answers were monosyllabic. Aunt Jane soon gave up, and with an angry look at Caroline which betokened a scolding to come, devoted herself to entertaining the Colonel.

  As soon as the covers were removed, Caroline turned to Uncle John.

  'Uncle, may I retire? I am feeling unwell.'

  'Poor child! So that is the cause of your silence? I assure you, Colonel, Prudence is not normally so quiet. She has a lively, spirited nature – too lively, at times, I fear,' said Aunt Jane sweetly, at the same time directing a fierce look, unseen by the Colonel, at Caroline.

  'I am sorry you are unwell, Mistress Prudence. May I wish you a speedy recovery, for your uncle tells me you are willing to spare some time for showing me the surrounding country. I understand you know it well. I would not wish to leave here without exploring it in your company.'

  Caroline managed a slight smile, and then turned back to Uncle John, who had not spoken.

  He looked at her for a long moment, then stood up.

  'You may retire, Prudence, and I trust a night's repose will prepare you to assist the Colonel tomorrow. We must not be lacking in attention to our guests.'

  Caroline waited for no more, but hastily bade them goodnight, and with a sigh of relief, escaped from the room.

  But the next few hours were, if anything, even more trying than supper had been.

  She had to undress and get into bed, in case her aunt or one of the maids came to see how she was. There was no danger of her falling asleep. The mixture of excitement and apprehension which gripped her made certain of that.

  *

  It seemed as though the whole night had gone before t
he last sounds of the household ceased, but it was in fact only two hours. Caroline waited for as long as she could bear the suspense, to make sure everyone was safely in their rooms, then she crept out of bed, and by drawing back the curtain from the casement, was able to dress by the light of the moon, which was just rising. She put on her best dress, and packed her small collection of treasures into a spare petticoat, tying it in a bundle.

  She intended taking this one dress with her, though she would ride in boys' clothes. She must to be able to present herself to her aunt in London dressed respectably. It would be a small enough bundle to add to her provisions.

  Then she took up her scissors and, regretfully but firmly, cut off her long fair hair, till it hung to just below her ears. She stuffed the tresses into a chest, and was ready.

  Taking her bundle, and her heaviest cloak, she went to the door and cautiously tried it. It had been left unlocked, and she opened it slowly. There was no sound in the house. The moonlight filtered in through the corridor window, giving her just sufficient light to see her way to the stairs and creep down them, avoiding the ones which she knew creaked. She reached the bottom safely, but here all was dark, and she had to make her way to the kitchen quarters by feel. Though she knew the house so well, it took a long time, and she was breathing heavily from anxiety when she finally closed the kitchen door behind her.

  Now she had to risk lighting a candle.

  Feeling carefully along the table by the door her exploring fingers soon found what she was seeking. There were always spare candles and a tinder box left here.

  Caroline picked up a candle, lit it, and looked anxiously round the kitchen. All was still. Breathing a sigh of relief, she put the candle on a high shelf so that it illuminated the room fully, then quickly she began to collect together what she thought would be possible for her to carry.

  She cut chunks of cooked meats, packed several pies and tarts, and some loaves of bread that had been baked that day. She also filled a water bottle with water standing ready in a jug.

  She then fetched a pair of saddle bags stored near by, and wrapping her food into clean napkins, packed it carefully into the bags.

 

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