Drop of the Dice

by Philippa Carr

  ‘Shall I not say goodbye to Aimée?’

  He hesitated. Then he said: ‘I think we can trust her, but wait until last thing tonight.’

  I took his hand and kissed it. ‘I shall be so sorry to leave you,’ I said. ‘We have not had enough time together. There is so much I want to talk about.’

  ‘There will be other times. When all this is over the country will settle to peace and once the true King is here the German can go back to Hanover. I hear he prefers it to England in any case.’

  ‘Do you think it will work out like that?’

  ‘I know it will. And think, Clarissa, when it does it will be success for all we have been working for. Your father lived and died for this cause. You should be one of us for his sake, you know.’

  I thought of Eversleigh then, and that warm protecting love I had had from my maternal relations, and I felt a sudden anger that there should be all this trouble and people should die just for the sake of putting one man on the throne against another. I was in complete sympathy now with my Grandmother Priscilla who was always more fierce than any of the others in her condemnation of war.

  ‘You will come again in happier times,’ went on my uncle. ‘Dear child, it seems so churlish of me to send you away, but I know these men I work with. I am not able to keep them in order as your father could. You understand?’

  I kissed him tenderly and told him how much I had enjoyed meeting him and that I would come back as soon as I could.

  He was frowning. ‘You will have to be careful,’ he said. ‘We don’t know what the state of the country will be later, but for the next few days it should be safe for you. Get south as quickly as you can. The grooms are good fellows and I have impressed on them the importance of taking the utmost care. I shall pay them well and I have promised—on behalf of your family at Eversleigh—that they will be amply rewarded when they deliver you safely to them. Will you see that my promise is honoured?’

  ‘I will, Uncle. I will.’

  ‘Then be prepared to leave at the first signs of dawn in the morning.’ He hesitated then he went on: ‘Before you go, there is something I want to give you. Wheel me into the ante-room.’

  I did so and took him to a bureau there which he indicated. He unlocked it and took out a case. He sat for a while thoughtfully holding it in his hands.

  ‘This is a ring,’ he said. ‘It has been in our family’s possession since the days of Elizabeth. In fact, it is very valuable because she gave it to one of our ancestors… one of her attendants, of whom she was very fond. You see…’ He had taken the ring from the case and I saw that it was similar to the one he wore on his finger. ‘It is not as beautiful as diamonds, sapphires or emeralds, but because of its antiquity and what it stands for it is more valuable than those stones. Try it on.’

  I put it on the third finger of my right hand. It was much too big.

  ‘You have some growing up to do,’ he said with a smile. ‘Surely there is one finger it fits.’

  There was. It was my forefinger.

  ‘There,’ he said. ‘It is yours and you will give it to your eldest daughter. The eldest daughters in the family always have it.’

  I looked at him sharply and said: ‘But Aimée…’

  He was frowning again. ‘Yes, I suppose she should have it, but I hesitated. Your father wanted to marry your mother and he would have done so if she had not been already married. He felt about her as though she were his legitimate wife and you his legitimate daughter. He could not have felt the same about Aimée and her mother, for he did not mention her to me… except in that last letter. I think there may have been many women in his life who meant as much to him as she did. But with your mother it was different. That is why I am giving the ring to you. I am obeying some instinct. Preserve it. It is worth a small fortune. Look at the setting. It was designed by Elizabeth’s favourite jeweller and is recognized as such by experts. The Queen herself once wore it.’

  ‘I have never seen this stone before

  ‘No. It is fairly rare nowadays, but at one time it was worn a great deal by monarchs. They wore these rings because they were in constant danger of being poisoned. These stones are said to absorb arsenic from any liquid and they were generally worn by people who feared someone might attempt to make an end of them.’

  ‘It is all very interesting but I don’t think anyone is likely to put arsenic in my goblet.’

  He smiled. ‘The ring is a sort of talisman… as things become when handed down through families.’

  ‘It is a very unusual stone,’ I said.

  ‘Yes. It is formed in the digestive organs of the Persian mountain goat.’

  I gave a little exclamation of disgust.

  ‘It is all right,’ he said with a laugh. ‘It is purified, but that is what it is. It is formed by digested hair and it is this which makes it a good antidote to poison. In the Persian language Bezoar means “against poison”. And that is the name of the stone.’

  ‘How very interesting.’ I held out my hand and surveyed the ring. My uncle took my hand and held it tightly for a moment or two. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘you look as though you truly belong to Hessenfield.’

  I thanked him warmly and as I knelt before him he took my face in his hands and kissed me.

  ‘Good luck, little Clarissa,’ he said. ‘Come back to us soon.’

  When we were retiring that night I told Aimée that I wanted to speak to her. She said: ‘Come to my room,’ so I went.

  She lay on her bed, her lovely dark hair hanging loose about her face, her eyes alert with interest. I sat by the bed on a chair, looking at her, thinking how attractive she was without being really beautiful.

  ‘I have come to say goodbye,’ I told her. ‘I am leaving early tomorrow morning.’

  She stared at me incredulously.

  ‘Uncle Paul thinks it best,’ I went on. ‘There’s trouble coming.’

  ‘Oh, those wretches! Jacobites and Hanoverians, I suppose.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Uncle must be triste because you are not a good little Jacobite.’

  ‘Uncle is too wise for that. He wouldn’t try to persuade anyone to be what they didn’t want to.’

  ‘And you are against these Jacobites?’

  I shrugged my shoulders. ‘We have a King. We have crowned a King. There will only be trouble if they try to force another on the people.’

  ‘They seem to think here in Hessenfield that it would be a good thing for the people to have James back.’

  ‘It is never wise to decide what is good for others and to try to force it on them because it would be good for us. The people, in any case, will decide what they want.’

  ‘You are a little statesman, I see.’

  ‘If you mean I have some plain common sense I would agree with you.’

  ‘But what is all this… about your leaving us?’

  ‘Our uncle thinks it better if I leave now before the trouble breaks out in earnest. He thinks I should get back to my home in Eversleigh.’

  She nodded slowly. ‘They are on the opposing side, eh?’ she asked. ‘Then is it goodbye for us?’

  ‘Only for the time being. I shall see you again, Aimée. You must visit us at Eversleigh. I know my Aunt Damaris would be pleased to see you…’

  I hesitated. Would she? Would Jeremy? Would Priscilla and Arabella? They would not like to think that Hessenfield had kept a mistress when he had been all but married to their darling Carlotta. But Aimée was my sister. They had a strong family feeling and they would remember that.

  She noticed my hesitation and smiled secretly. Sometimes I thought Aimée read my innermost thoughts. Aimée was clever. She was subtle but perhaps I was a little more astute than she gave me credit for. She expressed great sadness because I was going away, but I thought I detected a hint of elation. I wondered if she were a little jealous of my friendship with our Uncle Paul and perhaps was rather glad that I was leaving the field to her.

  I said goodbye, with assura
nces that we should meet again as soon as was convenient; then I went to my room and made my final preparations to leave. When everything was ready for the early departure I went to bed, but I lay sleepless, fearful that I should not awaken in time, though my uncle had said that I should be called half an hour before dawn, when cold bacon and bread with ale would be sent to my room. Food for the first part of the journey had been put into saddle-bags so that we need not stop at an inn until we were well away from the neighbourhood.

  All went according to plan and when the first streak of dawn was in the sky I said goodbye to my new-found uncle. I was touched because Aimée had come down to see the last of me.

  So in the very early hours of the morning I rode away from Hessenfield and with my grooms began the journey south.

  THE CAPTIVE

  AS I TURNED MY horse southwards I could not help feeling a glow of pleasure at the prospect of seeing my family again. They would be aware of what was going on in the North and worrying about me, I was sure.

  The countryside was beautiful on that morning. There were little clumps of gorse in flower on the moors. The mist hung heavily over them and here and there trees lifted their denuded branches to the sky. We left the open country behind us and came into lanes, past woodlands and I thought how beautiful the trees were with their bare branches making a lacy pattern against the sky. The winter was more advanced up here than it was in the South, but we should be lucky if we reached Eversleigh before the snowstorms came.

  We stopped for a meal in the shelter of a hedge and did full justice to the good things which had been provided for us at Hessenfield. There was new bread and capon with ale to wash it down with. The four grooms said it was right good fare indeed and the best thing about the Northerners was that they knew how to eat.

  They were Jim, Jack, Fred and Harry and they had enjoyed their stay at Hessenfield mainly, I gathered, because of the excess of victuals. Not that they were inadequately fed at Eversleigh, but at Hessenfield there was what I heard one of them describe as ‘a mountain of vittels’.

  They were all delighted however to be going home and they looked upon this jaunt as an adventure.

  After eating, we continued our journey and just before dusk were at the inn which Uncle Paul had told us to make for. The first stage of the journey had been completed with success, and we were all tired and hungry and ready for the excellent meal our host was ready to serve in the inn parlour—hot soup, roast beef, and veal and ham pie with cheese and fruit to follow. Fortunately there was room for us all and we decided to retire early that night and continue our journey at dawn.

  After that most satisfying meal I went to my bedroom which overlooked the inn yard and it was a great relief to take off my clothes and get into bed, and having slept scarcely at all the previous night I was soon fast asleep.

  I was awakened by the clatter of horses’ hoofs below. More arrivals, I guessed, and I listened a while to the voices of the grooms and the host. There was some sort of argument going on and I imagined the trouble was of that nature which was not unusual on journeys like this. Someone had arrived too late to get a room. I and my party had taken up a fair amount of space, I knew. Well, it was only two rooms—the four grooms were in one, I was in another. However, the altercation seemed to go on so long that I slipped out of bed and looked out of the window.

  I half wished that I hadn’t for my rest would be disturbed for the night. One of the horsemen down there was Frenshaw, whom I still thought of as the man in the brown frieze coat. What was he doing at the inn? I had a horrible fear that he was looking for me.

  I waited at the window, keeping well in shadow. The host was wringing his hands. His inn was full. It was most unusual. The Rising Sun was not a big inn, my lord must understand. He could accommodate three of the party but unless they all wished to sleep in one room some of them must go elsewhere. The Stag and Huntsman was only two miles up the road. There were a lot of travellers about… which was strange at this time of the year.

  They seemed to come to terms. Frenshaw and one other would stay. The rest would go on to the Stag and Huntsman.

  I did not go back to bed. We must be off very early in the morning. Before dawn, perhaps. I guessed that Frenshaw would be on the look-out for us and it was very possible that he was here looking for me.

  I hastily dressed and went along to the room where the grooms were sleeping. I had made up my mind that we should leave without delay—steal away when the inn was quiet and settled for the night.

  I tapped on their door. It took a little time to wake them, for they were all fast asleep. When I told them we were to leave at once they all looked dismayed.

  ‘The horses need a night’s rest, mistress,’ said Jim.

  ‘I know, and so do we, but we must get away from this inn. We left in a hurry because my uncle feared for us. I know now that we have been traced here and we must go at once and quietly. I settled with the landlord last night so we can get away quickly. But we must be quiet.’

  It took me a little while to impress on them the urgency of the situation but at last I managed to do so. They had heard the rumours that there was trouble in the North for they had talked with other stablemen at Hessenfield. At length they roused themselves and said they would be in the stables preparing the horses without delay.

  I went back to my room, collected my things and was ready to leave.

  It was a very starry night and about two in the morning when we rode out of the inn yard and I was very relieved when the Rising Sun was several miles behind us. We had passed the Stag and Huntsman and I had looked anxiously at the inn as we passed, wondering how many of Frenshaw’s men were there.

  With the coming of the dawn my spirits rose and I found I was enjoying the adventure. We should make our way to York and in doing so would pass the little village of Langthorne. Our jaunt at the fair there seemed a long way in the past and I had almost forgotten Lance Clavering because, I supposed, so many impressions had been imposed over that one; but it would be exciting if, when we arrived in York, he was still there.

  It was midday. I had meant to get food from the inn but there had been no time for that. There was a little of the capon and bread left and also some ale; but it had lost its freshness and the meal was not as good as it had been on the previous day.

  We had come to a wood. We were very tired and the horses were in need of a rest. There was a stream near by and Harry took them down to it. We stretched out under the trees and before long were fast asleep.

  I awoke with a start. I was cramped and cold. The sun would be gone in another hour, I reckoned. It was a pale wintry sun, but at least it was there and I was annoyed that we had slept so long. We should have found ourselves an inn for the night by now.

  The four grooms were fast asleep and the horses were tethered to trees. I felt the need to stretch my legs before awakening the men, so I walked down to the stream. My mouth felt parched and dry, and perhaps the water would be fresh and clear.

  It was not far, I knew, because Harry had taken the horses there. I knew the direction. There it was, clear, pure water.

  I looked back. The grooms and horses were hidden by the trees. I must not be long for they would be alarmed if they woke up and found me gone. Moreover, we must be on our way if we were to find an inn before nightfall.

  I was about to kneel by the stream when I heard a movement behind me. I turned. I was suddenly caught in a pair of strong arms. I gave a little scream and a hand was immediately clapped over my mouth. Something like a hood was slipped over my face so that I could not shout.

  ‘Good work,’ said someone. ‘Now to the horses.’

  I tried to struggle free but it was useless. My strength was puny beside that of the one who held me and I was carried off under someone’s arm as though I were a bundle of hay. I was aware that I was slung across a horse and then we were galloping away.

  I was bewildered and very frightened. I was not sure who had captured me but I feared it had somet
hing to do with Frenshaw. They had followed me to the Rising Sun and in the morning must have discovered that we had left. This was the road to the South and they knew I was going that way so it had not been very difficult to find me.

  I did not know what I could do. To attempt to wrest myself from the arms of my captor would be folly while we were galloping at this speed. There was only one thing I could do and that was wait and see what they wanted of me.

  After what seemed like hours we began to slow down and I gathered that we had arrived at our destination. We clattered into a courtyard.

  ‘Bravo!’ said a voice which I recognized as Frenshaw’s.

  I was lifted from the horse and the hood was taken off. I could see nothing for a few moments, then I was aware of a house. Two flaming torches were on either side of the door and a man was standing there. It was Frenshaw.

  ‘Bring her in,’ he said. My arm was seized and I was propelled into the house after him. We were in a hall—not large by Enderby standards, but panelled with heavy beams across the roof, with a fire blazing in a large fireplace.

  I was dizzy and my legs felt stiff. I swayed a little.

  ‘Give her a stool,’ said Frenshaw.

  They did so and I sat down.

  ‘Now,’ he said. ‘I want you to tell us without delay what you have discovered at Hessenfield and to whom you have sent your discoveries.’

  I was numb with the shock of having been kidnapped and brought here in this fashion. I had been afraid of this man from the moment I had seen him at the castle; but even before that he had filled me with some eerie premonition that I should come to no good in his hands.

  I stammered: ‘You are mistaken. I know nothing. I have not sent anything to anyone. I am ignorant of these matters. They are nothing to do with me. I am not interested…’