The Fugitive's Sword, page 5
part #1 of Lord's Learning Series
From behind her seat, she heard a muffled curse, some banging and Frances shouting angrily. Even had Kate wished to do so, there was no chance to stop and see what was happening because for a moment there was no one blocking her way. She regained her seat and, heart in her mouth for fear the horses might not obey her, used the reins to bring them to a trot. A man in a russet cape lunged in front of them trying to grab one of the horses by its bridle, but Kate mercilessly lashed her whip full in his face. The man swore and stepped back clutching at his eyes.
A full-scale brawl was underway behind her now, many of the nearby shops had their wares scattered and outraged mercers added to the confusion. Kate took the chaos in at a glance then turned away quickly as the unfortunate Spanish gentleman who had instigated the tumult was being half-dragged through the window of his carriage, whilst apparently being held back by his friends within it. Kate had little sympathy. No matter his religious proclivities he could have conducted his personal ritual inside the coach and out of sight of the crowd. What he had done was foolish at best and deliberately provocative at worst.
By then the horses had picked up speed, keen to put distance between themselves and the violence. Wood Street was on the left just after the Cross and Kate turned into it gratefully.
There was less disorder here, and though some people, curious or adventurous, were running towards Cheapside, more were, as she was, seeking to make haste away from the ugly scene. By the time they got to Maiden Lane, Kate felt able to stop the carriage for a moment and knocked on the wood behind her. She was reluctant to dismount as the horses were now thoroughly unsettled, but her meaning must have been clear enough as one of Frances’ ladies called out:
“We are all fine. You may go on, driver.”
Her heart still thumping from the burst of action, Kate took the carriage through Cripplegate. Avoiding those filling buckets with water at the conduit, she made her way along White Cross Street to the house of Mr Manning. It was only when she had turned into the stableyard and a groom came up to take the horses heads, that she realised her fingers were gripped so tightly about the reins that they had cramped.
Reminding herself severely of the need to keep her disguise intact, she unclamped her fingers and swung herself down from the driving seat as any experienced carriage driver might do. The effect was nearly spoiled when she found that for some inexplicable reason, her legs lacked their usual strength and almost buckled beneath her when she landed. It was good that she had the carriage beside her and could brace herself briefly on the step until she could trust herself to stand away from it.
Then she remembered and had to reach up to collect her knife which she had dropped beside her on the seat once it had done its work, ready to be snatched up if she needed it again. The blood was drying darkly on the blade, and she suppressed a shiver at the thought of how easily that could have been her own if she had been pulled from the driving seat and trampled by the crowd.
Kate quickly wiped the blade clean and restored it to her waist, then opened the door of the coach and stood by as Frances was helped from the coach by her ladies. They led her towards the garden house which should have been all prepared for her. From the way she walked, needing to lean heavily on her ladies, Kate assumed that they had arrived just in time and was relieved when the midwife and her assistant came out to see Frances inside. Then the doors closed upon the all female company within, there to perform that which no man either wanted or expected to be privy to. As Kate was in male guise, that meant she was barred from going to Frances as well. Besides, she had to return the coach. So, she played her part and having gathered herself together, climbed back onto the carriage.
At least she was spared the nightmare of having to face Cheapside again. Instead, she turned along Beech Street and followed the Barbican to Aldersgate. She could only regret not having chosen to take the same route out of the city.
Jan was leaning on the wall of the coach house with his arms folded as Kate brought the horses to a halt. His stoic expression told her that he had been enduring the wait under siege. Indeed, no sooner had the grooms taken the horses and Kate alighted than the coach owner appeared, his face darker than a thundercloud.
“I see you’ve decided to bring my coach back,” he said as if he had not expected her to do so.
If she had been there as herself, Kate would have answered him very sharply; but as it was, she simply shook her head and rasped that if he did not want their further custom on such terms, to say so and her master would go elsewhere. That made the man stop in his tracks. Seeing as Frances was paying twice the rate he would get from any other, with the coach not even leaving his stables for most of the time it was hired, Kate was not surprised.
A few minutes later she was mounted again, and she and Jan took the Aldersgate route back out of the city to Mr Manning’s house. By the time Kate had helped see to the stabling and care of the horses, the shadows were lengthening, and she stood in the deepening twilight, her gaze drawn to the silent door and shuttered windows of the garden house. Her thoughts were troubled with the events of the day and concern for Frances, but she also battled a mounting sense of urgency around her own affairs that were going unattended.
She must have stood there quite a while before Jan came to say he had accepted an invitation for the two of them to join the servants for a meal. They ate at a table in the kitchen with four of the household’s men. Kate sheltered her disguise in a withdrawn and sullen silence. Jan answered any questions directed towards them with a curt nod, a shake of his head, or a noncommittal grunt that dissuaded the questioner from persevering.
After a couple of attempts at being sociable, the others talked amongst themselves, and it was from listening to them that Kate learned how the events at Cheapside Cross had turned out. It seemed that the disorder had been quickly subdued and the Spaniard rescued from his beating and escorted back to the embassy. That made Kate even more relieved she had managed to get away. Perhaps the only thing worse than facing a baying mob would have been to be discovered by the authorities and unmasked, with Frances’ secret laid bare and her own part in it revealed.
As the meal finished, the door to the kitchen opened and one of Frances’ gentlewomen, Anne Elwick, came in and beckoned to Kate. She rose quickly as any servant summoned would do, mumbled a thank you and escaped the room. Anne’s expression carried her news and when they were outside and free from overhearing ears, her words confirmed it.
“The delivery was very easy. Her ladyship is recovering well, and the baby is a hale and healthy boy.”
Kate closed her eyes for a moment and gave a silent prayer of gratitude. She had learned long ago that to pray for something to happen before the event was never a good idea, more often than not it served no end. Better to keep her attention on the work of the moment to see it done then take the time to be grateful in prayer afterwards. From what she had seen so far in her life, God seemed more inclined to favour those who were striving to achieve their own goals than those who sat and prayed and did nothing. But she was not slow to give thanks when good things occurred. Especially when they were good things in which the outcome was surely beyond human hands.
“Are we to stay the night here?” she asked once she opened her eyes again.
Anne nodded.
“Yes, my lady. Lady Frances wishes to spend some short time with her new son and see him baptised before she hands him over to the wetnurse.”
Kate experienced a moment of dread.
“She will still leave him, won’t she?”
Anne’s lips became a tight line and Kate saw loyalty and truth feuding in her expression.
“So, she has said.”
It was enough. There would be another battle for Kate to fight, but that would have to wait for the morrow.
Kate and Jan were given a place to sleep in the upstairs room of the Manning’s carriage house. There was an old wool stuffed pallet furnished with blankets and set on the floorboards. Not the warmest or best of places to sleep, with mice—and probably rats—scurrying about, their claws making tiny sounds on the bare planks. But she had slept in worse places and at least she only had Jan for company so there was little risk of betraying herself as she slept.
When she awoke the next morning, she had to begin the day making a brave attempt to restore her appearance. One item she kept with her, if at all possible, when in any guise was a small mirror in a little wooden case. This told her that if she looked more dishevelled than she had the previous day, her appearance was at least offering fewer clues to her femininity. Rapid reapplication of the cosmetics served to cover for the rest and the fact that it was a cold day enabled her to wear the muffler she had kept in her coat pocket. A nod from the taciturn Jan reassured her that she could pass muster and, after another quick look in the mirror, she left the security of the carriage house at his side.
They were heading towards the kitchen door as might be expected of servants in search of sustenance when the door to the garden house opened and Anne Elwick emerged. Anne glanced quickly around to see that there was no one else in view and beckoned. Telling Jan to seek breakfast alone, Kate crossed over to the garden house and a few moments later she was being shown through into Frances’ chamber.
Only Frances herself and her ladies were there, which was as well, Kate thought, since a female servant might have been quite shocked to see a male servant admitted to the intimate presence of his mistress so soon after she had given birth.
Far from reclining in the well curtained bedstead, Frances was already dressed and sitting in a chair beside the hearth, having the finishing touches made to her hair by Dorothy as Elizabeth sat in a chair beside her and held the new baby. Seeing Kate, Frances almost leapt to her feet and, taking the infant from her gentlewoman, held him up as if he were a precious trophy.
“Oh, my dear, you must see him. He is the most perfect little thing in all the world.”
Kate peered at the swaddled newborn. His face was screwed up, red and blotchy with a small bruise purpling on one cheek and dark eyes that looked watery and seemed as free of focus as a drunk’s.
“He is indeed perfectly charming,” she lied.
“I never understood how perfectly rational women would turn into cooing imbeciles when they came to their own babies, most of which are invariably hideous,” Frances went on, “but now…” Then she must have seen something in Kate’s face because she laughed. “I don’t suppose he is as beautiful in your eyes as he looks to me. But he is here, and as hale and hearty a babe as the midwife says she has ever seen.”
“He has a name?” Kate asked, accepting the precious burden into her own arms.
“The baptism will be this afternoon,” Frances told her. “He is to be Robert.”
Kate’s heart sank.
“Are you sure? It might be wiser to call him something less obvious.”
“Like John, you mean?” There was a bitter tang to Frances’s words.
“There are other names besides just those two,” Kate pointed out, but Frances shook her head, and her jaw had a stubborn set to it.
“It is who he is,” she said tersely. “He may never have his father’s name in any other way, so it is only right he should have it in this.”
Kate held her peace then. Given time she might have prevailed and brought Frances to see the folly of branding the newborn with the mark of his adulterous heritage, but that would not be possible in the scant hours before the baptism. Not when Frances had so clearly set her heart upon the notion. She could only hope that none of them would come to regret the choice too profoundly and handed the infant back to his mother’s arms.
“You are looking really well,” she said, although she could see that much of the colour in Frances’s cheeks had been applied from without rather than within. “This will make it much easier when we return to Denmark House. No one will suspect what you have been doing.”
“Well the men would not, anyway. They seem to think that a woman who has given birth must lie abed for thirty days until her churching,” Frances said scornfully.
Kate said nothing. She had seen her own mistress give birth to seven children. Sometimes she had been up and about quickly after childbirth, but Kate had also seen her needing many days of rest and recovery.
“Shall I take the baby while you speak with Lady Catherine?” Elizabeth had risen and now held out her arms. “It is better for him to be quieter.”
There was refusal in Frances’ face and for a moment she hugged the swaddled form in his soft blanket, her face hidden as she lifted him close. Elizabeth exchanged brief glances with the other gentlewomen and all three looked at Kate with lips drawn tight. It was very clear that they had tried and failed and that now it had fallen to her to persuade Frances to do what had to be done.
Stifling the sigh of resignation, Kate mentally girded her loins and put a hand on Frances’ arm.
“Will you give Robert to Elizabeth just for a short time whilst we talk? There is something important I need to tell you privily.”
The face that looked up at her was almost bemused as if she was speaking from the other side of the ocean or in a foreign tongue. Kate wondered if she needed to repeat herself.
“Please, Frances. Will you—”
Perhaps using her given name managed to break into whatever trance or daydream held Frances captive because she frowned and then shook her head as if to clear it. “Oh. Yes. Yes, of course.”
Even then it took a few more minutes of Frances fussing around the infant before Kate could draw her away from him and out of earshot of her gentlewomen.
“Have you considered who will stand as his godparents?”
Frances looked blank. She had clearly not given the matter any thought whatsoever.
“I can ask my ladies, but perhaps… I mean, I was hoping you might but… No. Don’t look at me like that, I do know that is impossible, of course.”
Kate shook her head.
“It is hard to be sure with you at the moment. It is almost as if the baby has placed you under some enchantment. You do realise that if you are found out his life could be in danger? Your life too. George Villiers is a vicious man, you of all people should know that.”
Frances gave a brief laugh, but it lacked conviction.
“I don’t think he would go that far. Not with me.” But she looked unsettled now and was clearly thinking again. After a moment she sighed. “Oh, I know what you are trying to say. It is just… I wish…” Then she gave Kate a sad smile. “But I do not need you to tell me that what we wish for is seldom how the world works out.”
Kate knew a moment of relief. Perhaps this would be easier than she had thought.
“If you wish for Robert to be truly safe, you know what you need to do,” she said gently.
“I want to do what is right by him,” Frances said, “and yes that means looking to his safety, but it also means he needs to know who his parents are. Perhaps if his father were to—”
“His father is not here,” Kate said, gripping the fraying edges of her patience firmly. “The right thing is to make sure he is safe, anonymous and unknown. If you keep him with you that could not be.”
“What if we were to claim he was the son of a maidservant or—?”
Kate’s relief evaporated into frustrated despair. Surely the woman could see what that would lead to? She had to resist the urge to grab her by both shoulders and shake.
“Oh Frances, we have been through all this. You agreed. Robert is to go to a wet nurse under the name of Wright and you will stay away from him until it is safe for you to see him. If not, then all this,” Kate swept her hand around in an inclusive gesture, “will have been in vain. And it is not only you and Robert who might be in danger. Dorothy, Anne and Elizabeth have also put themselves in harm’s way to protect you and the babe—and they are neither the wives of John Villiers nor the daughters of Lady Hatton and Sir Edward Coke. They would have no protection at all against the wrath of Buckingham.” She had avoided adding her own name to the list, but at that moment she was close to regretting the impulse of compassion and friendship which had brought her to this. More was riding on her own shoulders than just her own life.
Frances turned to look at the hearth where Elizabeth sat with Robert in her arms and Dorothy and Anne were talking quietly.
“They gave me their word that no matter what happened they would never betray your part in this,” Frances said, her voice catching. “But I told them that if it came to it they should tell the truth of what I have done to save themselves.”
“Then you could at least honour their trust and make sure they are as safe as you can make them,” Kate told her.
There was a long silence and Frances studied her hands. The murmur of the three gentlewomen’s voices and the soft sounds of the fire on the other side of the chamber were suddenly loud. Frances let out a breath as if in defeat.
“I will do it,” she said quietly. “This evening. You have my word.” Then she looked up at Kate, her expression fierce. “But there is something I want you to do for me, something secret, I do not want my women to know.”
Kate nodded warily. “And what is that?”
“If something were to happen to me, little Robert might never know the truth, know who he is and how much he is loved. The wet nurse does not know my name and will not see my face today. There is a ring in my jewellery which I would have her keep for him, it is one his father gave me, and it has our initials entwined. It could be for him to have if…” She broke off and her eyes filled with unshed tears. “Please, Kate, would you go back to Denmark House and fetch it for me? It would mean so much to me.”
So, against her better judgement, but fearful that should she not do as Frances asked, it was very possible the baby might not be handed over to the wet nurse at all, Kate saddled the horse and rode across London, taking Jan Drees with her.
Once back at Denmark House she debated whether to put her trust in the note Frances had given her or take the time to present herself in the household as someone more entitled to access Viscountess Purbeck’s chambers. In the end, for all that it would indeed be a great inconvenience, she opted to slip back to her own rooms.
