Georgette Heyer (37 page)

  'At midnight, fellow?'

  The man shifted his feet, muttering: 'Mistress, she did say you was going away afore morning. But you'll not go far without the bay casts his shoe.'

  'When I want the horses I will call you. Get you to bed! What kind of a house is this, that has ostlers wandering about it at this hour?'

  'I bain't doing any harm,' the ostler said sulkily. He turned on his heel, and slouched away towards the door into the yard.

  Wilmot went back into the parlour. The game of cribbage had come to an end, and Juliana was sitting on a stool by the fire, with her cloak over her shoulders. The King was still seated at the table, idly shuffling the cards. He looked up as Wilmot came in, and raised his brows.

  Wilmot said in a lowered voice: 'I saw no one in the street, but when I came back into the house I found that ostler lurking by the back-door. He had some tale of having come in to tell me my horse has a shoe loose, but I think him a prying knave, sir, and greatly fear that he suspects your true estate. I have sent him about his business, but I don't disguise from you that I shall be right glad to get you away from this place.'

  Juliana looked up, saying with a little shudder: 'I am afraid of this house. It is dark, and I hear queer noises.'

  'You hear rats, my dear,' said the King. 'What o'clock is it, Harry?'

  Wilmot pulled out his watch, and, opening it, found that the hands stood at ten minutes past twelve. 'It is after midnight. God send no mischance has occurred to prevent Limbry's keeping his appointment! We ought to have heard from Wyndham by now.'

  'Patience, patience!' said the King.

  Time lagged on. Wilmot kept on consulting his watch, sometimes standing for a few moments by the window, with his head bent, listening for the sound of a signal; at others leaning his arm on the mantelpiece, and tapping his foot on the stone hearth. The King pushed the pack of cards across the table, and refilled his wine-glass from the bottle at his elbow. He leaned back in his chair, with his legs stretched out before him, the glass in his hand, and his unfathomable gaze fixed unseeingly upon the wall opposite him. He paid no heed to Wilmot's restless movements about the room; he seemed to be unaware of them, so lost in his own meditations that Juliana, watching him from under eyelids weighed down with sleep, was seized by an odd fancy that his soul had followed his thoughts miles away from this stuffy little room, and only his body sat there, immobile in the straight-backed chair by the table.

  The scamper of a rat behind the wainscoting, or the tiny crack of furniture settling, from time to time broke the monotony of the noise of breaking waves, and the moan and sigh of the wind round the house. Juliana started, and glanced fearfully towards the King, but he gave no sign of noticing these sounds.

  A board creaked softly in the passage. The King did not move, but Juliana saw that he was not lost, as she had supposed, to his surroundings, but very much on the alert, for his eyes turned swiftly towards the door, and remained watchfully upon it.

  'Sweetheart, I must send you to bed,' he said. His voice startled her; she thought he had raised it a little above the ordinary. 'What o'clock is it, Mr Payne?'

  Wilmot had taken a couple of hasty steps towards the door, but he stopped in obedience to a sign from the King, and once more pulled out his watch. 'It lacks only a few minutes to one,' he said.

  'Oddsfish, so late? My heart, you must leave me, and seek your bed, or I shall have a yawning bride tomorrow.'

  'Oh no!' she said imploringly. 'No, I cannot!'

  He got up, scraping the legs of his chair on the floor. His deep, cheerful voice interrupted her protest. 'Sleep while you may, love: tomorrow night I shall entertain you too well for sleep, I promise you!'

  He lifted her from the stool, holding her in the circle of his arm, and covering her mouth with one brown hand for a brief, warning instant.

  'Ay, she must certainly go to bed,' Wilmot said. He picked up one of the candlesticks, and walked to the door with it in his hand. He lifted the latch rather noisily, and pulled the door open. The lamp still burned at the foot of the stairs; there was no one in the passage, but the door into the taproom stood ajar. 'Well, mistress, are you ready?' Wilmot enquired. 'Call a truce to your fondlings, Will! You will have her soon enough!'

  'Do not make me go!' Juliana whispered. 'Let me stay here with you!'

  'Nay, you will undo me,' the King replied under his breath. 'If suspicion is awake, it must be lulled to sleep. Go up, and get what rest you can upon your bed. I think that some hitch has foiled our plans, and we shall not leave this place tonight.'

  She said bravely: 'I will do as you bid me. I am sorry to be foolish. I am not fearful for myself.'

  'Eh, good sweetheart, if you leave me not now you may well be, for you are too cosy an armful for my virtue, look you!' he said, lightly kissing her cheek.

  She blushed, but laughed too, a little uncertainly, and drew herself out of his embrace. Wilmot gave the candle into her hand, and watched her go up the steep stairs. As soon as he had heard the latch of the bedchamber door click into place, he drew back into the parlour, and turned an anxious face towards the King. 'That knave! He was spying upon us, I know full well. If he suspects you of being the King – Sire, I cannot conceal from you my great uneasiness!'

  The King laughed. 'No, Harry, you cannot indeed!'

  'If Wyndham comes not within the next half-hour we must go away from here. The master has played us false. He may betray our plans, for aught we know. It is not safe to linger here!'

  'I am very sure it would be more perilous to go from here without waiting for word from Frank Wyndham,' responded the King. 'Courage, Harry! There are a dozen reasons why the master may not have been able to send his longboat ashore.'

  Wilmot's mouth worked. 'Courage, say you? I have none where you are in the case.'

  'Yea, but this is folly,' the King said. 'How far will you ride upon a nag with a loose shoe? Shall I go alone? I dare not, if I would. For your prying knave, he will keep until morning, when he may go hang himself, for I shall either be upon my voyage to France, or – odds fish, where shall I be, Harry?'

  'In the hands of the regicides!' Wilmot said with suppressed anguish. He sank down into a chair by the table, and dropped his head into his hands. 'In the devil's name, why does Wyndham send no word?' he groaned. 'If you tarry in this place you may be trapped here!'

  'Oh, peace, peace!' said the King. 'If danger threat ened, Frank would have contrived to send me warning of it. Think, if our plan of sailing to St Malo has miscar ried, where next must I go?'

  Wilmot's fingers writhed in the meshes of his long lovelocks. 'My God, where? Where?'

  The King sat down opposite to him, and filled both their glasses. ''Sdeath, if that is all you have to say, let us for God's sake play cards!' he commanded.

  'Cards! If you can, I cannot, sir!'

  The King put the pack down with a snap between them. 'Cut!'

  Wilmot raised his head, looking resentfully into the King's mocking eyes. 'Will you laugh when you stand upon the scaffold, sir?'

  'I do not mean to stand upon a scaffold. My lord, I am still waiting!'

  'Oh, my dear!' The King's imperious tone dragged a laugh out of Wilmot. He cut the cards towards him, saying with an effort to regain his self-possession: 'It shall be as you please, sir. Deal, then!'

  They played piquet for an hour, Wilmot's ears straining all the while to catch every sound that disturbed the night-silence. A little after two o'clock, Charles fetched a great yawn, and remarked that since there now seemed to be little chance of his embarking for France that day, there was nothing left for him to do but to try what sleep he could get on the settle by the fire.

  To Wilmot's envious surprise, he did sleep, waking only when the daylight began to creep between the chinks of the curtains. The fire was a heap of grey ashes, and the candles were guttering in little pools of liquid tallow. Wilmot blew them out, and pulled the curtains back. The King woke, and sat up, remarking that it was very chilly.

  'There can be no hope of our being taken off to that ship,' said Wilmot, with the calm of despair.

  'None,' agreed Charles, stretching his cramped limbs. 'The tide no longer serves. What o'clock is it?'

  'A little past five, sir. I wish to God Wyndham would come!'

  'Is anyone stirring?' enquired Charles. 'My belly cries out for breakfast.'

  'What tale must I tell the hostess? Our shot was paid, and we should have been gone hours ago.'

  'Tell her the truth, that our plans miscarried. I must shave me,' he added, passing a hand over his chin.

  Wilmot looked at him in exasperation. 'Shave! Good God, sir, to what good end?'

  The King's eyes derided him. 'To the end that I may kiss my pretty bride. Go get me some hot water and soap, Harry.'

  He was engaged in scraping the last of the black stubble from his chin when Wyndham arrived at the inn. The Colonel was looking haggard from anxiety, and lack of sleep. He paid no heed to Wilmot's flood of questions, but addressed himself to the King, saying in a worried tone: 'Sire, I know not what may be the reason, but no boat came ashore, though we waited until the last possible moment.'

  The King dried his wet face with a napkin, and began to wipe his razor. 'Am I betrayed, think you?'

  'I know not, sir, but I have sent Henry Peters to Lyme, to seek out Ellesdon, and discover from him why the master sent not his boat to take you off, and whether he may yet do so. There is one circumstance which puzzles me not a little. As I was coming away from the appointed rendezvous, I saw a man who, I am ready to swear, was Limbry himself, walking by the shore. He recognized me, I am sure, but made no sign, his footsteps being dogged by three women. I thought it best to appear not to know him. My mind much misgives me, sire. I would you were gone from this place!'

  'Ay, the dice are not falling towards me this bout,' remarked the King. 'Yet I believe I should do ill to run away without awaiting word from Ellesdon.'

  'No, no!' Wilmot said urgently. 'He may have betrayed you, sir! What do you know of him, when all is said?'

  The King glanced towards him, a sardonic gleam in his eye. 'Content you, Harry: I know when a man is honest. I will wait for a message from him. Let that ostler take your horse to the stithy to be shod, and do you bespeak breakfast for us all.'

  Wilmot went out of the room. When he came back, he was looking pale, and spoke in an agitated manner. 'Sire, the ostler cannot be found. He is not in the stables, neither is he in his bed. He has gone off some where, I think, to lay information against you.'

  'My dear Harry, why should you think so?'

  'I have spoken to the hostess. She told me the man is a canting Puritan, a soldier of one Captain Macey's troop, which is quartered at Lyme.'

  This intelligence, coupled with an account of the ostler's behaviour overnight, made Wyndham feel very uneasy. He began to think the King would do well to depart from Charmouth without loss of time, and when Charles enquired where he was to go, replied: 'To Trent, sir, if you will. There at least you may lie in safety while we make new plans for your sailing to France.'

  The King was silent, turning it over in his mind. He still had not spoken when Mistress Wade came bustling into the parlour to set the table for breakfast. She seemed to have no suspicion of his being other than an eloping bridegroom, and after exclaiming at the mischance which kept him still kicking his heels in her house, she informed Wilmot that the ostler had come back to the inn, and was to take his horse to the stithy immediately.

  These tidings made the King decide to remain where he was until Peters returned from Lyme.

  Peters reached the inn an hour later, and, coming directly into the parlour, fixed his serious eyes on the King's face, and said bluntly: 'My liege, Captain Ellesdon bade me give you this message instantly, that he is astonished at the failure of our scheme, and greatly disquieted in mind. He begs your Majesty will not tarry any longer here, but instead will make all speed away from Charmouth. He bade me assure your Majesty that he is wholly ignorant of the cause of the master's breaking faith, unless it be that by reason of the great Fair that was held in Lyme yesterday, he was not able to command his mariners out of the ale-houses to work. He is going about speedily to search into it, but bade me very earnestly to conjure your Majesty not to stay longer here, but to ride away from Lyme, to Bridport.'

  'I thank God for sage counsel!' Wilmot said. 'Sir, you must go at once, and Wyndham with you! I will keep Peters with me here until we learn from Ellesdon what he has discovered, and will then ride after you to Bridport.'

  The King nodded. Colonel Wyndham interposed to suggest that he should stay behind in Wilmot's place, but this my lord would not permit, deeming the Colonel, from his knowledge of the country, the better guide. Peters went out to saddle the horses, the ostler being gone with Wilmot's nag to the stithy; and in a very few minutes the Royal party was riding up the steep, cobbled street, Juliana seated behind the King upon the double-gelding, and Wyndham going ahead to lead the way.