by Maeve Haran
But Master Donne, who had followed my thinking entirely, watched me depart with the smallest ghost of a smile.
THAT NIGHT I slept not at all but twisted and turned like a soul in torment. As the sun rose over the misty reaches of the Thames I had my answer.
I would go myself and visit Master Freeman in her stead.
I knew the risk this would mean to my reputation, how my reluctance to go to Court would be as nothing compared to this if I were discovered. A young woman’s reputation was as important as her portion or her parentage. And yet it seemed to me my very innocence would be a protection. Yet, dared I risk all this for my sister?
The memory of Mary, ever brave and resourceful, reduced so low and desperate persuaded me. Despite her foolishness I could not see my sister lose all.
And yet, how would it be accomplished?
And then I remembered what Wat had once told me, about the high-born lady passing herself off as her lover’s page. I had heard tell, also, of a wild young woman who rode about the country dressed in a gentleman’s clothing and who had once had the audacity to hold up a noble coach on the Hertford road.
And yet, what if I were caught and unmasked? Women might pass themselves off as men in Master Shakespeare’s plays, yet these same women were played by boys while real women would never dare go on a stage.
I turned to my coffer, to hold in my hand my mother’s amethyst ring. Beneath it, wrapped in cloth, was a lock of Bett’s brown hair. I touched it against the chill of my cheek. Yes! I would do this for Mary, who had done so much for me.
And so I summoned Wat.
I had done him a good turn, and I knew he was both loyal and grateful, and if applied to he would not let me down.
I found him playing jacks with another boy in a closet not far from the kitchens. ‘Wat!’ I called to him softly. ‘I have need of your help. Come with me, quick.’
He shrugged to his friend and followed me through the winding corridors of York House. ‘Do you have a spare set of clothes, Wat?’
‘Aye, my Sunday best. Bought especially for me by my master.’
‘Lend me them. You shall have them back by evening.’
‘Why, mistress, what need have you of a groom’s clothes?’
‘I have a task to do that requires me to wear men’s garb.’
‘What is this task, mistress?’ he enquired, concern clouding his shrewd blue eyes.
‘Never you mind. Just remember the favours I have done you and keep your counsel.’
As slow as a snail, Wat trailed miserably off, returning with a neat pile of clothing. ‘I thought you might need this also.’ He handed over, in addition, a long black cloak.
‘Thank you.’ I took the cloak gratefully. ‘Now, off you go and I will return your belongings later.’
‘Take care, mistress,’ were his final words as he ran back to find his jack-playing friend.
‘I will, Wat,’ I said, trying to convince myself that the task ahead was not as daunting as I feared.
I pulled my bodies so tight that my breasts were rendered as flat as a board, then drew on the white lawn shirt, plain black doublet and hose, and finished all with a plain cotton ruff. Then I tied up my hair with a shoelace and stuffed it into a large black hat I had discreetly lifted from the row outside the wardrobe. Later, one of my uncle’s advisors would find himself hatless as he went to see some great minister of state and wonder if he was losing his memory.
One quick glance in the glass on the great landing told me that if I kept my head down and tried not to speak I would pass muster. Willing myself not to look behind me after every step, I scuttled down through the endless passageways of York House until I reached the river. Here I turned left until I came to the nearest public stairs, so that I would not be remarked, and put out my hand for a wherry.
Yet before I could shout ‘Oars!’ a figure emerged from the shadows and grabbed me bodily by the arm.
It was Master Donne, his eyes blazing with fury.
‘What lunatic charade is this?’ he demanded. An approaching wherryman watched us, then pulled his hat down and rowed away, not wanting to be involved in trouble with his betters. ‘Wat has come to me with some tale of your borrowing his clothes. And here I find you wearing them, alone, and bound for Southwark or some such wild place. Have you lost your senses entirely?’
He marched me away from the river. ‘Speak! Before I throw you into the Thames and be damned to you!’
I stiffened mutinously. ‘I can swim.’
He ignored this rebellion. ‘What were you dreaming of?’
My instinct was to bluff. What matter was our private business to him? Then, cold and frightened, suddenly fearful of my face being known, my stout heart faltered and I told him all. ‘My sister is in trouble. Her husband has been gambling and a certain gentleman has acquired his notes of debt and a letter she foolishly sent to another gentleman, which fell into the hands of this Master Freeman. He promised to return them all to her if she met him alone. I elected to go in her stead. He means no harm to me.’
‘He does not need to, for you harm yourself!’ He half dragged me down an alley between York House and the Strand, which was mercifully empty. ‘And where had you undertaken to meet this Master Freeman, pray?’
I turned my head, unwilling to divulge.
‘Where?’ He pushed me roughly against the wall.
‘The Castle upon Hope Inn.’
‘God’s nails! You were going to a stewhouse! You might as well parade naked in Whitehall, for none would believe your innocence after that!’
‘Thank you, Master Donne.’ I tried to wrench myself out of his grip. ‘Yet I do not remember asking your assistance in this matter.’
‘And you will get none! How did you imagine, when you faced this Master Freeman, that you would persuade him to release your sister’s husband from his debts?’
‘By threatening to expose him for the corrupt man he is!’
Master Donne laughed and shook his head. ‘I had thought you a gentlewoman of unusual sense. Especially for your years. Did you think it would be brave to sacrifice yourself for your sister? A Joan of Arc at Orleans? You are not brave, but criminally foolish!’ Master Donne’s eyes were still dark with fury as he looked into mine. ‘What crazy madness makes you think you can don a boy’s clothing and go down alone among thieves and ruffians and argue with a greater villain than any of them! He might have slain you or…’
‘Or worse? Forced me to pay my sister’s price?’ I knew he was right, that I should be thanking him, but there was that in his tone which summoned up my blood.
‘Yes. Even by going there, if it were known abroad, or gossiped about in jest, your good name would be blemished forever and your word dismissed—how much good would that have done your sister?’ I made no answer so he turned me round to face him. ‘And thought you of the risks others must take to help you? Wat, who could be dismissed for lending his clothes. And I, too, who risk my position and my rank if I go not now this moment and betray you to the Lord Keeper, for he would expect no less of me? You are happy enough to visit stewhouses and threaten the safety of others for your own ends, I see…’
I pulled my wrist out of his grasp, as angry now as he was. ‘There speaks one who dallies with the wife of an absent earl! And seduces the wives of good and honest men then sets his victories to verse! From such a one should I take my moral counsel?’
‘Madam, you overstate my talents.’ His eyes sparked with anger at my accusation. ‘What I write in my verse is not for such as you—unless you are so desirous to read of the promptings of the flesh that you bid your cousin secretly acquire it for you…’
I gasped. ‘Rein in your vanity, sir… Or, tell me, was it to quell such lascivious promptings that you sent me the psalms of David? That I might chastise myself with good works, and lo, even good works translated by a lady? Thought you then to set me a good example? Though it be not one that you choose yourself to follow?’
‘Mistress
More, I am a man…’
‘Yet man is cast in the image of God, is he not? Has he not the gift of Godlike reason, that he might not be rendered passion’s slave?’ I knew that perhaps I went too far, yet I was incensed beyond resisting. ‘If what you write in your verse be true, you seem to creep like a thief from ladies’ chambers, stealing their virtue and taking much pleasure in the deception.’
I saw that I had struck a blow and might have regretted this high speech had he not quickly answered me.
‘Mistress More, the ladies I consort with do so willingly, I assure you. And it would be better if you had the humility to admit the danger, instead of disputing with me as to which of us is in the wrong.’
I fell silent for a moment at that, humbled. ‘Master Donne, does it indeed behove you to tell my aunt and uncle of this day’s work?’
The eyes that had glittered with anger softened a little. ‘I think not. I concede that some might say it was brave of you to take so outrageous a risk to save your sister.’
‘Or foolhardy,’ I admitted in a voice that was barely audible.
But Master Donne was contemplating an error of judgement of his own. ‘Since you eavesdropped upon my conversation with my mother you know that my own brother Henry also acted unwisely, or bravely according to his lights. He gave shelter to a fleeing priest and brought down upon himself the full weight of the law. When he was cast into Newgate, some whispered that I was not busy enough on his behalf, that I wished not to risk the implication of Popery for the sake of my own advancement.’
‘Perhaps you had more sense.’
He looked out across the darkened river and I had to bend to catch his words. ‘Or not enough courage. He died there of a sudden plague.’ He turned to me once more. ‘And even when he was dead, there were those who pointed out that I profited from his share of our inheritance.’
‘People are not kind.’
‘No. So I will not betray you to the Lord Keeper. Yet I lay down one condition.’
‘Which I may guess.’
‘There is a difference between men and women.’
‘Yes.’ There was the smallest smile in my voice as I replied. ‘This is a matter I have perceived.’
‘You must stop such japes as this and act the part of a modest young woman.’
‘Modest! Even if that word sentences me to a life of housewifery and endless stitchwork?’
He laughed at that. ‘And if the housewifery and stitchwork were for your own husband and household? Would that not be a task worth undertaking?’
‘That would depend on the husband.’
He raised my hood up over my head and for one instant I thought he might touch my lips with his. And wretch that I am I longed for the feel of his mouth on mine. Yet he did not do so. ‘Keep your cloak pulled up and slip in by the kitchen passageway. Go!’ He thrust me roughly and I all but stumbled as I crept along, hugging the wall, glad of the shadows and yet all the while chafing my anger to keep it warm. How dared he behave in so high-handed a manner?
I had almost regained the small door in the side of the wall leading to York House when I stopped short, winded, as if I had been hit by a lance to the stomach in the tiltyard. For coming towards me down the narrow alley was a young gentleman, finely clad, whistling an off-key tune as he walked.
It was Master Manners.
I tried to turn and run back towards the river, but it was too late.
‘Mistress Ann More, by God’s wounds!’ he shouted, dashing all my hopes that he might not have recognized me in a boy’s apparel. ‘By all the saints, what do you do abroad alone, and dressed in such clothing?’
Fear coursed through me that he had seen Master Donne or would guess the nature of my excursion. I prayed to the Mother of God to give me inspiration. And she, in her kindness and mercy, blessed me with an answer.
‘Master Manners, you startled me!’ The face I turned to him was all innocent surprise. ‘Can I let you into my secret? You will not betray me to my aunt or uncle?’
‘Mistress More, I can make no such promise…’ Master Manners began sternly.
‘I have been visiting the brother and sisters of our new servant boy, Wat. He came to me with a story of such sadness that they lacked a mother or father, and their sister Sarah prayed each day to the Almighty that He might grant them an education and give them a chance to rise from the low tide of their birth.’
Master Manners listened, disbelief printed upon his brow.
‘But why should that make you dress as a boy and travel alone into the city?’
‘To protect my maidenly innocence from comment and stares. I have travelled to Southwark to visit them.’
‘To Southwark? Alone?’
‘Master Manners we have a Queen upon the throne who has ruled us as well as a man for almost forty years. I think I am fit to travel across three miles of London without needing to call the Watch.’
‘You should not be the judge of that, Mistress More,’ was his angry response. ‘It is for your olders and betters to make such rulings. Or your husband if you had one.’
I put up my chin at that.
‘Not all would be as sympathetic to your venture as you might like. They might think you had been to visit a lover or engage in some hoydenish behaviour.’
‘Master Manners,’ I said, my voice as sugared as the lemon mead we drank two nights past, ‘could you think me guilty of hoydenish behaviour when I was about the Lord’s work? I have undertaken to teach these children their letters. What use is there for the plentiful education God has bestowed upon me, unless I can use it to better the path of others less fortunate than myself? Tell my aunt if you must, but I would rather do it in my own time and you would endear yourself greatly to me if you forbore.’
I did not wait for an answer. I could see him watching me, his face a picture of confused suspicion. I angered him in some manner he could not find the name for.
It was a dangerous game, for I could see in his face that it only made him want me in his power the more.
Back in my chamber, thankfully observed by no groom or tirewoman on my return, I stripped off my boy’s attire and hid it beneath my pillow.
Then, dressed only in my shift, I sank to my knees at the foot of the bed and wept in anger, in frustration and in fear.
Chapter 11
‘THERE YOU ARE, mistress!’ Mercy greeted me just as I fastened up the final hook on my woman’s apparel. ‘Your aunt sent me to find you betimes, and I searched high and low, yet not hide nor hair of you could I discover. And the mystery is, no gown seemed to have been taken from your press or coffer.’
‘I was wearing an old dress brought from the country. I am sorry, Mercy. I must have dawdled in the garden reading my prayer book.’
‘For five long hours?’ she enquired with the veriest trace of insolence. ‘Your soul must surely be saved after that, mistress.’
Without knowing it, I found myself smiling at the debate I would have had with Master Donne on this topic. Could prayer and good works help save a soul, as some believed, or were the chosen few truly elected by God before even they were born, and no amount of dipping into prayer books or good deeds could alter their predestined fate?
‘I need to speak with Wat about a pressing matter that concerns his family. Please bring him hither.’
Mercy trudged off with a grudging look to seek out Wat, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
For once Wat looked as meek as a lamb when he made his entrance to my chamber. He waited till Mercy had unwillingly left, for she wished to hear more of these strange happenings, before he spoke. His bright eyes, often times so full of mischief and of fun, and intelligent withal, were clouded by anxiety at my probable reaction. ‘I am sorry, Mistress Ann, for so betraying you to Master Donne. I saw you making for a wherry, dressed in my clothes. I could not let you trespass on the wilder shores of Southwark alone and unprotected.’
‘As a matter of fact,’ I replied sternly, ‘I am well able to protect myse
lf.’ His young face looked so rebuked that I added: ‘Yet thank you for your care of me.’
He bowed low and doffed his hat, for all the world like his master or a Court gallant, and despite my anger I could not but laugh to see him grown so noble.
‘You saved me from the tanner, mistress. See, look at my hands.’ He held out both palms for my inspection. They were pink and soft. ‘Joan gave me the wool grease from her cousin’s ewe to rub into them.’
I smiled at how fierce Joan had kept this kindness to herself. Wat’s merry soul seemed to bring out the gentleness in us all.
He was about to take his leave.
‘Wat, one thing. Your brother and sister.’
‘Yes, mistress.’
‘Is it true your sister Sarah can no longer care for them?’
The narrow face looked suddenly older, as if borne in on by cares he knew not how to manage. ‘She is sick, mistress, struck down with the sweats.’
I nodded. The sweats were a terrible affliction, often striking the young and strong and sometimes carrying them off within a day.
I reached for my purse with the few pennies I still had left. ‘Go to the apothecary and see if there is aught that can help her. Then let us see if we can find shelter for them here.’
Now I had only the small task of persuading my aunt to give her approval.
I remembered that the next day we were to go to Greenwich to hear my uncle’s chaplain preach a sermon. I would try and persuade my aunt then. I wondered if the Queen would attend, since sermons could be as popular as plays or masques when they were delivered by an eloquent and interesting thinker, though secretly the churchgoers enjoyed assessing each other’s finery as much as listening to the topic of the worthy discourse.
I found myself wondering, on the morrow, as I dressed myself carefully, if Master Donne had a mind to listen to preachers. I would bet an angel coin he preferred to do the things preachers condemned, than to sit and hear the condemning. But we would see.
Before I had finished dressing my sister Mary burst into my chamber, her smile as wide as if one close to her had recovered after a long illness. ‘Ann, Ann, I am come here with the greatest speed. Master Freeman has returned Nick’s notes not an hour ago and will harry us no more! You can hardly picture with what relief I greeted the letter when it arrived at our house this morning. And Nick! He was so amazed he fell to his knees to thank the Almighty God there and then for our deliverance.’