Miriam Bibby - Mistress Meg 02 - Mistress Meg and the Silver Bell (30 page)

George let
out the breath he’d been holding. Then he moved slightly, attempting to catch
Richard’s eye. Richard saw him, nodded and opened his mouth; but Sir John spoke
first.

“Aye;
but which way to send ‘em? Where will they have gone?”

That was
the question, thought George.

* * * * *

The little
string of riders - Philip Widderis, Amabilis Grasset, their servants and two
guides - were approaching the low-lying marshes bordering the rivers that fed
into the Humber estuary.They would need the guides to show them the quickest
way along the causeways through the reeds and rushes. They had ridden hard
across country until that point, because although Lissy had no love of horses,
she was a more than adequate horsewoman, as befitted the daughter of Sir
Richard Grasset of Marfield Hall. There was colour in her cheeks and as Philip
glanced across at her, she laughed back at him. This was an adventure; the best
adventure of her life. How dull it had been until this moment, she thought;
this was better than their clandestine meetings. Even Amelia knew nothing about
those, because Lissy couldn’t trust her silly little chatterbox of a sister
with such important knowledge. Well, she might know by now, of course. Lissy
felt a brief pang of concern for what might be happening at home and then
turned her mind firmly on the future.

Every now
and then a water bird, startled by the riders, flew up from a reed bed with a
sudden clatter of wings. Lissy’s horse had shied a couple of times and they
needed to take special care now. Somewhere between Drax and Goole there was a
little vessel waiting at one of the staithes; a barge that would carry them
down to Hull and a sympathetic distant cousin of Philip’s whose husband had
interests in various trades. And there, they would take ship to London and
Philip’s married sister; and once in London, they would be wed for sure,
because that was what they both wanted. Two ceremonies, if necessary, to fulfil
Philip’s religious beliefs. Amabilis did not care greatly for religion, but she
was a great believer in marriage.

Philip,
too, was feeling a great surge of excitement at the success of their plan, but
it was tempered with a growing sense of concern and responsibility for Lissy.
And something else, too. Lissy had never visited Hull and was filled with the
excitement and pleasure that came from seeing somewhere new; somewhere with
people and shops and bustling trade. Market day at Marcaster could not compete
with what she hoped to find at Hull - and in London. Lissy had planned it all.
Philip had needed to do little other than arrange the transport. His cousin had
proved understanding when he had explained that their fathers were at
loggerheads.

“Why,
the old fools!” she had exclaimed. “To stand between two young folks
so much in love! Dear, dear!”

In fact, it
had all gone surprisingly easily so far. However, there was something that
Philip was dreading. Lissy had never travelled by sea before and was looking
forward to that as another part of the great adventure of their running away
together. She did not care what type of vessel they sailed in to London. It
might be a collier, or a ship bearing lead, or dried cod; at least, she didn’t
mind as long as it did not smell too badly of fish or tanning or something
unpleasant. Philip, on the other hand, had sailed the sea before - and he had
hated it and been very sick indeed. Just the thought of the great yellow
surging waters of the estuary, the swell of the German Ocean beyond it and the
sight of vessels swinging around in the wind made him feel ill.

Lissy,
sensing his discomfort, glanced across at him.

“All’s
well, my love?” she asked. “Not long now until we are on board. I’ll
be glad to say farewell to this saddle.”

Philip
nodded but said nothing. She looked more closely at him.

“Not
worried about thy father’s horse, love, are you? It was foolish of Martin to
let him go like that, but he will find his way home. And we’ll send the others
back with the guides. You have money for that, d’you not?”

Philip
shook his head. “Aye, Lissy. No, ‘tis not that I’m concerned for The Fly.
I - it is just that - well, I am not the best of sailors and …”

Lissy burst
out laughing.

“Philip
Widderis!” she said, broadening her accent. “Thou’rt not telling me
that t’youth who rode that gurt daft beast of his feyther’s, is feart of
sailing to Hull?”

“Not
of sailing to Hull, Lissy, but …”

“Well,
I am sure that
I
will love it. And I’ll take care of you, Philip.”

That was a
comforting thought. Philip leaned out of his saddle to give his bride-to-be a
kiss. A scent of something exquisite wafted towards him.

“Lissy
…” The thought of the sea voyage faded.

Lissy
smiled. The perfume had been worth every penny - every penny! And she thought
with gratitude of the cunning-woman who had been a source of such lovely wares;
and such very
practical
advice on how to secure her man …

* * * * *

At Marfield
Hall, the three men were in council in Richard’s study. There had been
arguments, but George had managed, by sheer determination, to draw the others
back to the matter in hand. He was now leaning against the mantelpiece with his
arms folded, listening to Richard and John discussing which direction the
runaways might have taken. One married sister in London; one in York; a brother
in Oxford. Those were the most likely directions for Philip. As for Lissy, she
too had relatives in York and some in Bridlington. The two men traced out their
network of contacts as fully as they could.

“They
might take ship at Bridlington,” said Jack Widderis.

“Or
they might ride south to London,” mused Richard.

“Else
ride to York. Or to Hull and take ship there. Or any other direction to lay a
false trail.”

Silence
fell. George shifted his position and prepared to speak. He found he had to
clear his throat first.

“Gentlemen,”
he began, “I am prepared to serve you in any way I can in this matter.
Yours to command, so to speak. But - forgive me for saying this. I ask myself
why your children have done this thing, in this manner. A match between them -
a match agreed and approved between the two houses - would that have been such
a bad thing?”

The other
men both began to speak at the same time and then stopped, each gazing at the
other with a certain ebullience, but both preferring not to be the first one to
insult the other.

“George,”
said Richard, almost warningly, “there are certain matters that would -
that would …”

“He
means my lack of compromise with regard to the true faith, lad,” said Sir
John sardonically. “Or as he might describe it were I not present, my
blockheadedness. My misdirection. My
family’s
misdirection. But in
truth, there is compromise … our entire lives are compromised …”

George
nodded. He understood. Catholics walked a fine line between holding to their
beliefs and paying service to a religion which was not theirs. This had become
a serious issue since Papal authority had declared that any Catholic attending
the new services was betraying their faith, leaving them only the option of
paying massive recusancy fines. Previously, it had been possible to attend the
services but keep the faith in their hearts and many ingenious ways had been
found to avoid those parts of the services that might give offence. It had been
successful; the peace had been kept. Times had changed and so had relationships.
These two men were living examples of that change. They had not given him any
reason to stay quiet, though, and so he continued.

“And
do you think that will have been uppermost in their heads - and their
hearts?”

“Philip’s
a good lad,” said John Widderis, but he spoke slowly and thoughtfully.
“He said nowt of this. I knew nowt of it.”

“Perhaps
he feared to provoke you; or at least, to offend you, not wishing to transgress
in his duty as a son,” said George. “Richard? What of your daughter?
Why would she not open her heart to her father, or mother?”

“Lissy
is intelligent and …” Richard stopped.

“She’s
a lass who knows her own mind, from what I recall,” said John, and he
almost smiled. Richard glanced across at him. George thought he gave a half
smile, as well, but it was fleeting.

“We
two have fallen out over horses as often as religion,” pointed out
Richard.

“More
often,” grunted Sir John. “And we’ve agreed over ‘em more often than
religion, too.”

George,
looking at them as an outsider, saw two men with more in common than they could
perhaps see for themselves. They were both clearly horsemen, after all. He
could imagine them as the neighbours they might have been years ago, when the
children were younger, living with tolerance and reason, when those two
commodities were in greater supply.

“Well,
gentlemen, perhaps you might like to consider the best outcome, in the
circumstances,” he said. “In the meantime, I will see what, if
anything, can be discovered further …” He made his way to the door,
hoping that he had been tactful and encouraging. Time would tell.

In the
hall, Amelia seemed to be experiencing a kind of grief. Anne had tried to
comfort her, but all Amelia could talk about were the gifts she had bought for
her sister at the booths.

“There’s
a little purse; a pretty little silk purse. I thought she would like it, don’t
you agree? And some gingerbread. And I was looking forward to telling her about
how Sir George won, and the man who ate all those curious things … and all
the people … oh, mother, why did she do it? Why didn’t she tell
me
?”
Amelia broke down.

Anne looked
up at George. It seemed to him that she would not be able to express her grief,
or whatever she was feeling, whilst Amelia herself needed comfort.

“I
understand - this is painful for you. But - perhaps it will not be too long
before we have news,” said George.

“I had
so much to tell her,” sniffed Amelia. “We had both looked forward to
it for so long. Well - I thought Lissy - how could she seem to - I don’t
understand …”

George
could think of nothing more helpful to say and it seemed that Anne felt the
same. A wilful young woman and a young man’s first love: ingredients for a
great adventure for the two of them and great pain for their families, unless
those families could come to an agreement.

Amelia
wiped her eyes. Some memory struck her and she almost smiled. “The
funniest thing, though, was the little dog that did the tricks. It was outside
a booth at the back of the pavilion where there weren’t many people. I don’t
know why the man had set up in that place. He just smiled and bowed when I said
not many would see him there. I tried to remember all the things that it could
do, because I knew that Lissy would have loved it too … what is it, Sir
George?”

“A
little dog?” said George, quickly recovering himself. “A dog that
could do tricks?”

“Yes,
a curious black dog with a tiny face that looked as though it knew some secrets
…”

“That’s
very fanciful, Amelia,” said her mother, pleased that she had cheered up.

“It
could walk on its hind legs and on its front legs; and it could bring things
and unfasten things … and do all kinds of funny tricks.”

“Very
curious!” said George. “Excuse me - I believe I will see if I can be
of use in the search.”

* * * * *

The Jingler
slid quietly through the door of Jugg’s house. He knew it was safe. Jugg was
out for the day on parish affairs, so the Frater had told him. And when he came
back, the Jingler would be ready.

First of
all, he was going to take a look in that chest, the one that Jugg’s eyes had
strayed to, briefly, the last time he was here. There was something in it.
Gold, maybe. Or a weapon. Whatever it was, the Jingler was going to take it. It
had been a big risk, coming here, after what happened, but he was tired of
skulking in the countryside with the others whilst Jugg, sneering, scheming
Francis Jugg, remained smugly in Marcaster.