Prue Phillipson - Hordens of Horden Hall (18 page)

Clifford’s thin, tight lips were drawn into a sneer. “I think it
is
too soon. You have proved yourself in nothing yet.”

“We have graduated, sir,” Henry piped up, “and tomorrow we kiss the King’s hand.”

Clifford, Daniel was sure, was never likely to get to court. He had been too supportive of the Commonwealth while both Daniel’s family and Henry’s had suffered for loyalty to the King. He could see Clifford was impressed, much against his own inclination. Perhaps a grandson-in-law in favour with the new regime would not be unwelcome. At all events he just grunted and turned the subject and presently, rather uncomfortably, they took their leave.

As soon as they were outside in the Strand again Henry clapped Daniel on the shoulder and chuckled, “Is this Cousin Eunice some ugly old harridan then that you are trying to escape from?”

Daniel saw her tiny shape and poignant little face in his mind’s eye. “No.” He found he didn’t want to speak of her. His emotions were too tangled up. “I shan’t be pushed, that’s all.”

Henry gave him a quizzical look and said no more. They spent the rest of the walk back discussing how they should dress next day for the momentous occasion. Daniel felt that his tall frame with its long legs looked ridiculous in the short doublet and baggy petticoat breeches with trailing ribbons that were all the fashion but Henry said he would look out of place if he didn’t conform.

“That’s why you had them made as soon as we came to London.”

“I know and a terrible expense they were but when I saw myself in the tailor’s mirror I hated the look.”

“That’s what it must be, however.” Henry, whose compact shape was unremarkable except for his ears, was adamant on the point so they set off next morning in Lord Branford’s coach, Daniel fiddling self-consciously with the ribbons dangling over his knees and from the waistband.

He could not believe he would actually kiss the King’s hand until they arrived at the Palace of Whitehall and passed though the Holbein Gateway. His mouth dried and his heart began to pound.

They were informed that His Majesty was in the Privy Garden where his precious sundial was being cleaned and they could join him there. Passing through the Palace both Henry and Daniel were the butt of many merry jests from the courtiers.

“If they are for the navy God help us.”

“The little fellow had better not turn those ears to the wind or his ship will be carried off course.”

“Nay but if t’other’s ship loses a mast he can stand in for it himself.”

Lord Branford ignored it all and shepherded them along with the occasional bow to an acquaintance. Daniel wanted to be able to describe the palace in his letters home but he found he dare not lift his eyes. A page conducted them by the Stone Gallery and they emerged onto the Privy Garden where Daniel to his astonishment found himself looking down on the figure of the King who was examining his sundial. He had always thought of the King as high above him but he had only seen him on horseback and he felt acute embarrassment at his own height.

Lord Branford waited until the equerry standing at a respectful distance caught the King’s attention.

“Earl Branford to present two young gentlemen for your naval volunteers, sire. His son, Sir Henry Branford and Sir Daniel Wilson Horden.

The King looked round and his eyes went up and up till they reached Daniel’s.

Daniel, fearfully ashamed, dropped on one knee although he was still some yards away.

The King laughed. “Nay, stand up young man. I have seen you before, that height and that flaxen hair. I believe you are even taller than you were. Where was it?”

Lord Branford pushed him forward. “Answer the King,” he hissed.

Daniel swallowed. “By London Bridge, Your Majesty. On the day of your return. I was in the crowd. You did me the great honour of noticing me.”

“I remember. How tall are you?”

“Three inches above six feet, I believe, Your Majesty.”

“Three inches taller than your King then. We can’t have that. Shall we chop off his head or his feet, Branford?”

“Like my son, Henry here, he wishes to serve in your navy, sire, and will need all his parts.”

“Very well. They will get their papers.”

The King held out his hand towards Henry first and Henry dropped on one knee before reverently kissing it.

Daniel followed suit, before Henry stood up, and then realised he was supposed to wait for the King to extend his hand. He knew he was blushing furiously.

But the King seemed amused by his unfamiliarity with court etiquette.

“Horden?” he said, as he held out his hand and Daniel scarcely dared touch it with his lips. “Where are you from, Sir Daniel?”

Still on one knee, Daniel answered “Northumberland, Your Majesty, Horden Hall, to the north of Newcastle.”

Again the King gestured him to rise.

“Did you suffer in the late wars?”

“Yes, we were overrun by the Scots and sequestered by Parliament, sire.”

“You have been restored to your estates?”

“Yes, ire.”

“But you are deserting them for the navy?”

Daniel had a horrible feeling that he was being rebuked.

“I can think of no greater honour in life than to serve Your Majesty. My estate is in good hands.” He dare not say principally his mother’s.

“Very well.” The King turned abruptly to Lord Branford. “If the lads know nothing of service at sea they had better start learning at once. Speak to Mr Pepys who will give them their documents of accreditation.”

They were dismissed and backed out as far as the Stone Gallery where they were allowed to walk forward again. Daniel, glancing back saw that the King had turned to his sundial again and seemed to be pointing out some place where he was not satisfied with the cleaning.

As they passed through to the gate Daniel again saw nothing of his surroundings so dazed with wonder was he that he had held speech with the King.

Henry said in a huff, “He spoke not one word to me.”

His father clapped him on the back. “You kissed hands. The Branfords are known to the King. My brother was killed at Naseby. Horden was a new name in his ears.”

“He remembered me at London Bridge.” Daniel found that overwhelming. He couldn’t wait to get back to the Branfords’ house and write to his mother.

CHAPTER 14

Eunice looked up from the catechism she was teaching to a motley group of a dozen children. The figure of her grandmother blotted out the light filtering into the crypt from the top of the stone steps.

“Leave that, my dear,” Celia said, all smiles. “Reverend Woodhouse has given you permission to speak with me for a few moments.”

Eunice rose at once, unable to control a quickening of her heart. Celia’s visits always brought word of Cousin Daniel.

“Repeat over what you have learnt,” she told the children and came to the foot of the steps out of earshot.

Celia did not look inclined to climb down as there was no rail to hold onto so Eunice mounted to her side. She could hear the children breaking into shouts and fights but there was nothing she could do about that. They were only quelled for short periods under the threat that they would get no dinner if they had not learnt to repeat at least one sentence before noon.

Now that she had her to herself in the shabby space which had once been a side chapel but now held only a worn table and benches for the children’s dinner, Celia took both her hands.

“Well, he has come. He called upon us yesterday. He is now a graduate of Cambridge and will soon be an officer in the King’s navy. He is taller than ever and twice as handsome. Such a fine figure in a velvet doublet and wearing a sword! This very moment he will be at the Palace of Whitehall kissing the king’s hand. Oh my child, how you will be lifted up from all this!”

Eunice saw her casting an eye round the bare stone walls. The day was warm outside but here with the stone flags striking cold through her shoes Celia couldn’t stop shivering. Eunice suppressed her usual ready sympathy. Every part of her grandmother’s little speech angered her but she took her up on the last point.

“
I
lifted up! I have not asked to be lifted up. The work I do here is a good work. As for kings they are no better than the rest of us.”

“Come now, Eunice, that is your father speaking. I know your heart.”

Eunice struggled to stop her eyes filling with tears. It was best to be cool and distant. “Are you referring to Cousin Daniel, Ma’am? You have not named the gentleman.”

“Now, my girl, be not coy with me. I told you he would come back for you when he graduated.”

“But you say he has come back to enter the navy.”

“He cannot come for you now but he will when he has served his King. Your grandfather is to write to Cousin Nathaniel and start negotiations. Once a settlement is worked out it will all be official and then you can look forward to a better life than this.”

Eunice raised her head and stiffened her slight frame. “I will look forward to nothing, Grandmother. Father tells me to live one day at a time. We can serve God only in this present moment. The past is lost opportunity and the future is unknown.”

Celia absolutely stamped her foot. “Oh he has warped your mind! He has turned you stubborn and obstinate. Do you not want marriage and children like ordinary girls?”

“I will never contemplate marriage unless a godly man I can love and honour stands before me – with my father’s sanction of course – and desires to wed me. Now I must return to my pupils before they hurt each other.”

“Ah you say this now and mighty fine it may sound in your ears but I know better. You’ll soon change your note, my girl, when you see him.” She looked down into the crypt again. The noise was growing louder. “Do you receive a wage for this work?”

Eunice shook her head. “I get anything left over from their dinners to take home with me.”

Celia sighed. “I wager they leave nothing, those little vagabonds. This is not how my granddaughter should be living. Well, it saddens me but I will leave you for now, poor deluded girl.”

“I thank you for coming but pray do not write to Cousin Nathaniel about me.”

Celia gave her a peck on the forehead. “I think I can write what letters I choose,” she muttered as she turned away.

Eunice heard that plain enough as she watched the stout figure waddle away to the care of her maid waiting at the sunlit doorway.

She turned back to the head of the steps but how was she to quell these unruly children when her own thoughts were scampering in her brain like wild beasts?

It was cruel to have dangled this beautiful young man before her again when he was no more than a mirage. She was nothing in his life. Of course he could have come to her if he had wanted to. He could have come today with his cousin but he was engrossed with his new prospects.

This talk of a marriage was not the work of Daniel’s parents, she was certain. It was got up by her grandmother, though it was quite possible that Clifford for all his shallow republicanism might be eager for a titled alliance. She had often heard her father bemoan
his
father’s hypocrisy before begging the Lord’s forgiveness for breaking the fifth commandment.

This was why she had come to admire her father more and more. He was for ever checking himself and confessing the thoughts of his heart. And this was what she must do now. Put her heart in a straight-jacket. She stepped quickly down into the chill crypt and waved the children to sit down again. It was getting near to their dinner time and the Reverend Woodhouse or perhaps even her father of whom they were very afraid would come to hear a sentence of the catechism.

Today they were learning, “to keep my hands from picking and stealing and my tongue from evil speaking, lying and slandering.” It was impossible that they could go through life obeying all this when she herself, with all her advantages, still found herself telling lies to her father. She had had to leave out ‘honour and succour my father and mother’ since they had none, but hearing each in turn mumbling all the other words by rote left her sadly disillusioned with ‘the good work’ about which she had boasted to her grandmother.

At least, she thought, while they are in here they are not picking and stealing and they can sleep here if they wish which keeps them safe and dry at night but they are not prisoners. Daniel said, “Will no one speak up for Eunice? Do we stand by and let her be taken back to prison?” He believes my life is a prison. He has choices – the university, the navy, his estates. And yet he could speak too, in that letter he wrote, of feeling ‘hemmed in’. Are any of us free?

“He said ‘pricking’, mistress. That’s wrong, ain’t it?”

She pulled her mind back.

“
Picking
, Johnny. You know what it means. You run past a stall and
pick
off an apple. You don’t
prick
it. If you think what the words mean you’ll say them right first time. Now, once again.”

Would it never be dinner time? She was as hungry as they were.