Georgette Heyer (42 page)

  My lord, finding no help for it, kept his eyes averted from the two by the window, and did his best to respond adequately to the caresses lavished upon him. He was delivered from the lady presently by her recalling to mind the capons twisting on spits in the kitchen. Prom ising to return anon, she went away, with a blush and a wink at the Colonel, and a provocative look cast over her shoulder at my lord.

  'Harry, oh Harry!' gasped the King. 'Alack the day, you've grown stout, my dear!'

  My lord wiped his brow with a handkerchief. 'God's death, Wyndham, you might have warned me what manner of fellow this brother-in-law of yours is!' he exclaimed.

  'On my soul, I knew no more than you!' replied the Colonel, in a quivering voice. 'Thank God, Juliana is in the other attic! This tale must not come to my wife's ears! Bullen! Oh, if I roast him not for this! Truly, if the bed could tell all it knows, it would put many to the blush!'

  The sound of laughter brought Juliana into the room, but tease as she would neither the King nor her cousin would disclose the cause of their mirth. Lord Wilmot, who knew enough of his Royal master to be sure that his discomfiture would not be soon forgotten, smiled in a world-weary fashion, and suggested that they would all of them be better employed in discussing new plans for the King's escape than in holding their sides over lewd jests.

  'We are agreed, I suppose, that there can be now no question of our setting sail from Lyme or Charmouth,' he said.

  This reminder sobered the Colonel at least. 'None indeed, my lord. We must look farther afield. I have been thinking, since Lyme has failed, Southampton must now be the likeliest port.'

  'Good God, Wyndham, his Majesty cannot ride all the way to Southampton without certain help there! Where might he stay? Is there any loyal subject there who will serve him?'

  'That I do not know, nor was it in my mind that his Majesty should venture his person upon this chance. All must be in good train before he again leaves the safety of my house. If I were not upon my parole, I would go myself to seek out a vessel, but you know well I dare not, my lord. It must be for you to do.'

  Wilmot's strained eyes flashed. 'For what other purpose do you think I accompany his Majesty! I will do my possible, rest assured. Yet, though you talk so glibly of riding to Southampton, Colonel, I would have you know that to charter a vessel for such a cause, in a town where I have no acquaintance, is more easily spoken of than done!'

  'Indeed, my lord, I am well aware of it,' Wyndham replied. 'If you will listen to me, I have a plan that I hope may answer.'

  The King who had seated himself by the table, stretched out his hand to Wilmot with a faint smile, but addressed the Colonel. 'Let me hear your plan, Frank.'

  'I would have my lord go without loss of time to Salisbury, sir, taking with him Henry Peters, who will lead him to the King's Head, which is a hostelry very well known to many of us Royalists. I dare not say how many of us have not lain there in time of trouble. When my lord is safely housed there, I would have Peters seek out a kinsman of mine that resides in the Close, one John Coventry, whom your Majesty may know.'

  'A son of Lord Coventry?' asked the King.

  'The eldest by a second marriage, sir. I need not tell you that he is very well disposed towards you. Indeed, I would stake my honour on his hazarding his life in your service. With his assistance, I do think that my lord need not despair of finding the means to transport your Majesty to France.'

  The King's hold on my lord's delicate hand tight ened. 'Will you go, Harry?'

  Wilmot looked down at him, his mouth twisting a little wryly. 'Do you think I will not, my dear?'

  'No.'

  Wilmot lifted his hand and kissed it. 'Anywhere for your sake!' he said, under his breath.

Rhys Jones carried his guests' supper to the attic with his own hands. The darkness was setting in, and the candles had been lit some time earlier. An appetizing smell of roast capon escaped from the big covered-dish; Rhys Jones bustled about, wiping the trenchers with a napkin, placing bottles of sack upon the table, and trimming the candles. He promised himself the pleasure of waiting upon the company, and the Colonel had only just assured him that the supposed groom would perform that office, when a noise in the street startled them all, and sent the innkeeper to the window to peer down into the dusk.

  'I know not what this may mean,' he remarked. 'It sounds to me like there was a rare mob coming down the road. I'd best get me downstairs, your honour.'

  'Ay, do so,' said the Colonel. 'And if they should be Parliament-men, take care you do not disclose my pres ence here tonight!'

  'Trust me, master, there's none shall get so much as a sniff of your honour!'

  The King, who had been standing behind the Colonel's chair, pulled up a stool as soon as the innkeeper had left the room, and sat down. He saw that Juliana was looking rather frightened, and smiled reassuringly at her. 'We do not know yet that these newcomers are searching for me, good sweetheart,' he said, with a gleam of amusement. 'You know, you and my lord are well-matched, for you are for ever starting at shadows.'

  'The truth is, sir, that we are not blessed with your hardihood,' remarked the Colonel, who had gone over to the window, and was trying to obtain a glimpse of the street.

  'My dear Frank, custom breeds contempt. It is three weeks now since I fled from Worcester, and I suppose I have never been out of danger once during all that time.'

  'I think God has you in His care, sir.'

  'Why, yes,' agreed the King. 'I begin to think so too. Leave looking out of the window, and come to your supper before it is cold. I don't doubt but that our friend Jones will soon bring us tidings who these visi tors may be.'

  It was not the innkeeper, however, but his wife who presently came up the attic stairs. She was out of breath from the climb, and stayed only long enough to tell the company that the men who had come to the inn were rebel soldiers, brought by the Parish Constable, to be quartered for the night.

  'No less than forty of the rogues!' she panted. 'Eh, I shall be hard put to it to find enough for such a pack of wolves.' She saw Wilmot's face of consternation, and smiled at him. 'Nay, now, don't you be fretting, my dear! They'll not find you, no, nor your friends neither! If I know aught of soldiers, they'll be as drunk as wheelbarrows come midnight.'

  The King laughed. 'Fie, are they not godly men?'

  'Soldiers are soldiers all the world over,' she retorted. 'As for these, I would I had the sorting of them. Godly! Oh, ay, mighty godly to come roistering into a decent house with their drabs behind them – saving your pres ence, mistress!'

  She dropped an apologetic curtsey to Juliana, and whisked herself downstairs again.

  My Lord Wilmot's eyes met Wyndham's across the table. 'Have you any more fine plans, Colonel?' he enquired with ironic civility. 'No doubt you will now tell me how to extricate his Majesty from this trap?'

  The King wiped his fingers on his napkin. 'Peace, Harry! There is nothing any of you can do to extricate me.'

  Wilmot got up, thrusting back his chair. 'If they should take it into their heads to come up to this room –'

  'You are alarming my pretty bride,' said the King.

  Juliana gave a gasp. 'No, sir! Indeed, I am not afraid.'

  'Why, that is well!'

  Wyndham said in a shaken voice: 'I have led you from danger to danger, sir. Before God –'

  'Before God, Frank, I acquit you of blame.'

  'You are generous, sir. But if any harm should befall you, think you I could acquit myself ?'

  The King yawned.

  Wilmot said in a mollified tone: 'There is no

blame, but only hideous mischance. Yet that woman spoke truly when she said that soldiers are soldiers all the world over. I will admit that I have encountered some plaguily pious ones in my day, but I think, from the sounds we hear, that these are not of their number.'

  The noise that rose from below did indeed seem to be rather boisterous than godly. During the ensuing half-hour it swelled appreciably in volume; and when the strains of a catch being lustily sung reached Wilmot's ears, he drew a long breath of satisfaction and said: 'Excellent! When the liquor's in the song will out. Mrs Juliana may seek her bed without misgiving.'

  Juliana looked imploringly at her cousin, but he told her that she could do no good by forgoing a night's sleep, and bade her make her curtsey and be off into the adjoining attic.

  She pouted, but obeyed him. She had not been gone many minutes before Rhys Jones came into the room with a bottle of wine under each arm, and a broad grin on his face. 'All's well, your honour!' he told the Colonel. 'But I made bold to bring up a couple more bottles, for dang me if those pesky rogues below won't drink the cellar dry, the way they've settled down to it.'

  'What make they here?' demanded the Colonel. 'Where do they come from?'

  'There's no saying where they come from, master, but I can tell where they be bound for and that's Guernsey. They're on the march to the coast, and all drinking confusion to the King's party. Let 'em! Words are but wind, and his blessed Majesty will take no harm along o' such.'

  'Well said!' smiled the Colonel. He poured out a glass of sack and held it out. 'We'll have a health to his Majesty, and see which of the two toasts shall be the more potent. Drink up, man!'

  Rhys Jones took the glass. 'Ay, so I will, and gladly! The King, God bless him, and may his enemies rot in hell!'

  'Amen!' said the Colonel, and drank.

  Rhys Jones set his glass down, and drew the back of his hand across his lips. He seemed to be on the point of making some observation when a fresh noise arose from the lower floor. It made my lord jump. 'God's death, what's that?' he exclaimed. 'It sounded like the scream of a wench!'

  'The devil fly away with those rascally red-coats!' said Rhys Jones wrathfully. 'I'll be off down to 'em, with your good leave, my masters.'

  He went out, but the screams, instead of abating, grew rather more piercing. The King cocked an intelli gent eyebrow. 'I think, gentlemen,' he remarked, with a primness wholly belied by the laughter in his eyes. 'I
think
that is a case for the mid-wife.'

  'Good God, sir, no!' said Wilmot, outraged.

  But the King was right. Rhys Jones came back in a few minutes, torn between anger and amusement, and flung up his hands at the Colonel's look of enquiry. 'Oh, it's a rare gallimaufry, sir, and never a wink of sleep shall any of us get this night! It's one them light skirts, crying five loaves a penny in the kitchen. She'll be worse before she's better, but if there comes not a brawl out of the business, trust me never! What with my Nan scolding, and every one of them red-coats trying to clap the dish at the wrong man's door, there's a new Civil War starting below-stairs.'

  'I wish the wench would make less noise over the business!' said his lordship, with a look of deep disgust.

  'Short pleasure, long lament,' murmured the King.

  Rhys Jones gathered the platters together into a pile. 'They say where there are women and geese there wants for no noise, and a true saying it is! But 'deed I'm mortified there should be such a commotion when I have noble company in the house!'

  He bore off the pile of platters, encountering Juliana in the doorway, who had jumped up out of her bed, and come in some alarm, and a good deal of curiosity, to discover what the din downstairs betokened. The Colonel told her shortly that a woman was in labour, and commanded her to go back to bed, and draw the blanket over her head. She remarked with consider able asperity that it would take more than blankets to muffle such loud cries, but since she was young, and tired, and had slept little during the previous night, it was not long before her ears grew accustomed to the noise, and she dropped into a sleep from which not all the disturbances of that fantastic night had the power to rouse her.

  There was a naked bed in the front attic, and the King was presently persuaded to lie down upon it. He lay with his hands linked behind his head, drowsily watching Wyndham and Lord Wilmot, who sat at the table with their heads close together. The murmur of their voices discussing plans for his escape made his heavy lids droop lower and lower over his eyes; he was sliding into sleep when the tramp of hasty footsteps in the street jerked him awake.

  Wyndham jumped up and went over to the window, but could see nothing but a few lanterns bobbing along below him. These disappeared one after the other into the inn, and there arose almost immediately the unmistakable sounds of an alter cation. To the three men, listening in the attic, it soon seemed as though a Civil War must indeed have broken out. The noise increased momently in volume; voices shouted unin telligible abuse: sundry thuds and crashes indicated the overturning of furniture; and more than one inebri ated gentleman hurtled through the door of the inn, propelled by some unseen agency into the street. The courtesan's cries ceased when the racket in the taproom was at its height, and a little later Mistress Jones came up to the attic, looking hot and dishevelled. She accepted a glass of wine from the supposed Colonel Bullen Reymes, and announced that she had delivered the drab of a lusty male child, but that the trouble was only just beginning.