Tapestry (30 page)

Once outside, she pressed her luck. ‘Sir, you have been most kind. I wonder if I might obtain your permission to bring in our close friends to visit my husband this evening?’ She watched him frown. ‘You see, while I am confident of our reprieve, one can never fully count on life’s capricious changes. I did not wish to say anything in front of the Earl. Should Lord Pembroke have read the situation wrongly, I shall not know until it is too late. Just as a precaution, may I bring a few dear lady friends who would wish to see my husband and wish him luck?’

The man considered her words in the dim cresset-lit glow of the hallway. She waited, ensuring her eyes were wide and trusting as she regarded him with such intensity that surely he could not fail to acquiesce to her wishes.

‘You said these were ladies, Countess?’

‘Oh, yes, indeed, sir. Genteel ladies of high quality, who have known the Earl for much of his life,’ she lied.

He scratched his beard. ‘I should check with the Constable,’ he murmured.

Jane already had the coin ready. This had to be handled so carefully. ‘Please, Hugh.’ She’d overheard him spoken to. ‘Your name is Hugh, isn’t it?’ He nodded, staring as she again pressed money into his hand. ‘Just in case. As I said, life is never certain. I would be deeply sad if my lord were unable to farewell those he loved, and these he has loved like sisters. Just a few minutes this evening. I rushed away from them today to pass on the good news from the House and fair forgot they would want to see him too. I dare not dice with a situation that could turn sour within hours.’

It was silver this time. She knew he wouldn’t need to check; he would know it from its weight alone.

‘My Lady, I would have to insist that these female personages be led into your husband’s cell one at a time. We could not allow you all in at once.’

Jane and Winifred shared a smile. ‘Of course,’ Jane said, for both of them.

W
hen Winifred arrived at Duke Street her cheeks looked as though the chill of the afternoon had pinched them hard with frosty fingers; either that or her fever was back. Her friends soon discovered that the reason for the Countess’s high colour was an infusion of renewed energy.

‘Forgive me, dearest, if this should sound in bad taste, but the visit to your lord husband has clearly improved your … um … mood,’ Cecilia said.

Jane grinned, pulling off the hood of Winifred’s cloak and untying the clasp, vaguely aware of how much more comfortably she moved in the body of the Countess now.
Don’t get too comfortable, Jane
, she reminded herself.
Not only do you want the Earl to escape, but you want to escape too
. ‘I have a favour to ask of you both,’ she said, taking in Mrs Mills with her glance.

‘Come into the parlour, Countess. It is just the three of us, I’m pleased to say. My other guest has departed. We’ll be much cosier in there.’

‘Thank you. Er, Mrs Mills, would you be so kind as to request that Mrs Morgan join us this evening? The favour I wish to ask includes her good self.’

Her hostess frowned. ‘Really? How intriguing.’ She glanced at Cecilia and Jane caught her friend giving a small shake of her
head. ‘I shall send a note immediately. Can you not give us a hint as to what is making you look so cheerful?’

‘I cannot. I have the energy to explain it only once and I need us all present. And … one more thing.’ Mrs Mills paused. ‘Would you also kindly ask Mrs Morgan to bring her largest, longest skirt and an additional cloak?’

Her friends shared another glance of surprise.

‘You want Mrs Morgan to wear her largest, longest —’

‘No, my dear Mrs Mills, I wish for her to bring those items with her. I would prefer the spare cloak to be as simple and unadorned as possible, preferably with a hood.’

‘Good grief, Countess! My mind is in a whirl of intrigue, but I shall do as you ask.’

Mrs Morgan must have summoned a chair within minutes of receiving her friend’s note, because she was seated in Mrs Mills’s parlour within half an hour, having brought with her the extra garments. When the three others had finally settled, each with a warm drink spiced with a nip of brandy, Jane took a slow, deep breath.

‘I have a curious and not inconsequential favour to ask of you, my loyal supporters and friends,’ she began, taking each of them in with her gaze.

They nodded, eyes wide with anticipation in the candlelight.

‘Let me speak and please do not interrupt. To some extent I will be formulating my plan as I go —’

‘Plan of what, dear Countess?’ Mrs Morgan asked, interrupting immediately.

They saw Winifred’s instant smile of forgiveness. Perhaps she could tolerate the occasional interjection. ‘My plan for the Earl of Nithsdale’s escape from the Tower.’

At their gasps, she raised both hands placatingly. ‘Please, ladies, allow me to tell you everything — although first let me ask: are you prepared to help me in this endeavour? Without your assistance, my plan will not succeed.’

One by one they nodded, so curious that they were wholly under Winifred’s spell.

Jane explained how she had told the yeoman, and thus the rest of the warders, that a reprieve was near enough guaranteed, her express purpose being to slacken their supervision. She mentioned her bribe and how she hoped the men would drink long and merrily to the health of her husband and the King, relaxing their guard still further. She watched as the women exchanged glances and she sensed they were impressed.

‘I have obtained permission to take us in, one at a time, ostensibly to bid him a potential final farewell.’

Her friends leaned forward expectantly.

‘But Countess, by tomorrow everyone will know that there is no pardon,’ Mrs Mills pointed out. ‘The Tower will know by tonight.’

Jane nodded. ‘I realise this. But I have secured permission for this visit and they will be feeling so sorry for me that it will now be a visit of genuine sorrow. The guards will not let me down, I am sure of it.’

‘All right, so tell us how this plan of yours works,’ Mrs Morgan urged.

‘I would leave you, Cecilia, and you, Mrs Mills, downstairs and I would first take you up, Mrs Morgan, and you will be wearing that extra skirt and the extra cloak beneath your own.’

The trio of women listening stared at her and then at each other, perplexed.

‘It is not so far-fetched,’ Jane assured them. ‘Mrs Morgan, you are tall and still so slim despite being with child that the extra garments will go unnoticed. What is more, I have noticed that you and Mrs Mills are of a similar height.’ She wanted to add that right now they were of similar size too, but she didn’t want to offend the stouter Mrs Mills, who was not pregnant.

‘Why is that important? You have me intrigued, my dear,’ Mrs Morgan remarked.

‘Well, once inside my husband’s cell, you will remove the additional garments to reveal the clothes you are wearing now, and after a few words with William, you will leave.’

‘Right.’ She frowned, and felt it necessary to repeat the instructions in case she’d misunderstood. ‘So I go into his cell, take off these extra garments,’ she said, pointing to the skirt and cloak, ‘then leave and go back downstairs?’

‘Exactly.’

‘And that is all?’

‘That is your part played to perfection, Mrs Morgan. You will then hail a chair and be gone, using busy streets so you get lost in the mob.’

‘Well,’ Mrs Morgan said, touching her dark hair, currently swept into a bun, ‘that does not sound too hard.’

Jane hoped her new friend would hold to that sentiment. ‘Next it will be your turn, Mrs Mills. I will need you to arrive sobbing, holding up a handkerchief like this,’ she said, demonstrating with the plain handkerchief she had taken from William Maxwell’s drawer at Terregles. Jane feigned hysterical crying. ‘I want your face to be entirely hidden. You must not be recognised by the guards.’

Mrs Mills regarded her companions blankly before returning her attention to Winifred. ‘Why?’

‘Hear me out. Once inside William’s cell, after asking him to avert his gaze, you will take off your cloak and your skirt and put on those items left by Mrs Morgan.’

The women shook their heads in unified confusion. Minuscule beads of ice began to patter at the parlour window.

‘Hail,’ Cecilia said unnecessarily, and shivered.

Mrs Mills got up to throw a few more small logs on the fire, then returned to her seat. ‘All right, my dear, let me get this absolutely straight in my mind. I am undressing out of my cloak and skirt and redressing in the discarded clothes that Mrs Morgan has left behind. What then?’

‘You will leave the cell.’

‘That is my part finished?’ she asked.

‘You too will have completed your role. I would urge you then to leave the Tower as fast as you can. Once again, a sedan is easiest.’

‘And my original clothes?’ she asked. ‘Still lying in your husband’s cell?’

‘Ah, now we come to it,’ Winifred said with glee, and Jane could see comprehension beginning to dawn on her companions’ faces. ‘Mrs Mills, you will arrive sobbing, leave your original garments behind and then emerge from saying farewell to the Earl with your face exposed and appearing perfectly composed. In fact, you will make sure the yeomen notice that you look to be a different woman from the woman who went in. You will fool them into thinking you are the first woman, for you will be dressed like her — in case anyone noticed.’

Jane cast a glance around to ensure that everyone was still following her; it sounded complicated when in fact William had assessed it right as being childishly comical in its simplicity. It was to be a process of trickery, sleight of hand — the sort of conjuror’s play that forced the unsuspecting eye to see something that really was not there. Distraction — as a magician might admit — was the key to any good trick. ‘Now, my lord husband will then, much against his desire,’ she smiled sadly, ‘put on your original set of clothing, Mrs Mills.’ She didn’t want to add that his broad male body would be amply covered by the clothing of her stout hostess, so she said instead: ‘And your height will be extremely helpful at this point, because the length of your skirt and cloak will suit him well enough.’

‘The Earl will emerge dressed as Mrs Mills went in?’ Mrs Morgan said, understanding fully now.

‘That is correct.’ Winifred beamed, and Jane felt relief that her curious plan at least made sense to the players involved.
‘He will feign sobs as though still overcome with grief, but this precaution will be simply to cover his manly face.’

There were more gasps of surprise. ‘Oh, how clever!’ Cecilia said, her normally reticent expression sparkling with interest. ‘And so the Earl comes to where I will have a carriage waiting, presumably, pretending to be one of the women who came to visit him?’

‘There you have it!’ Jane said, thrilled that she had guessed at the rest. ‘The guards will be in a loosened and lenient frame of mind, I hope. All we will have to do is convince them for a few minutes.’

‘And you?’ Cecilia asked, frowning.

‘Well, I must play my part to perfection, Cecilia, for Mrs Morgan is right: the Tower will already likely know of the King’s decision. Even if he does agree to pardon some, I know my husband will not be counted among them. So by the time we arrive, they will be anticipating my grief. And I will provide it, pretending to be saying a final farewell to my good husband while hurrying my maid and friends along so I can present a final petition at the House of Lords. Then the guards cannot pay the Earl’s guests any undue attention.’

‘I understand that gives you the excuse not to tarry, my dear Countess, but what of your husband, even if we can successfully get him out of his cell?’ Mrs Mills asked.

‘Mrs Mills, I am counting upon you to suggest a safe house nearby where we can conceal Lord Nithsdale. Cecilia is to wait for me, as would be proper, but she will have seen the Earl safely on his way to the safe house in a closed carriage or fast-moving sedan.’

Mrs Morgan waved a hand. ‘A safe house can be arranged. But my dear, what will you be doing alone in the Tower while we are gone?’

‘Pretending,’ Jane said firmly.

‘Let me clarify,’ Cecilia said. ‘We are counting on the guards,
in merry moods, not to notice that two women have gone in with you to the Earl’s cell, but that three have come out?’

‘In a nutshell,’ Jane said, looking at each in turn. ‘It is daring, I agree. But it is also straightforward.’

‘What if the guards do check, though?’ Mrs Morgan asked, rubbing her swollen belly as her child presumably stretched. Jane, or rather Winifred, sympathised.

‘I have arranged it so that the only person who might be questioned — if at all — is you, my dear Mrs Mills, in the spare set of clothes,’ she said, taking her in with a kindly glance. ‘And should they do that, they would discover you are every inch a woman visitor,’ Jane added.

‘Countess, I think we need more help,’ her hostess said. ‘Let me bring my husband in on your plan. You know he is extremely sympathetic to your cause and believes the Earl should be offered his reprieve. I think if we had Mr Mills downstairs with a carriage waiting, ready to bundle your lord husband into it, then we could be more certain of a safe exit from the Tower. Mr Mills is in a far better position to find the right lodgings where your husband’s whereabouts can be kept quiet.’

It did make sense to have that extra person on the ground, Jane agreed, and she knew that Mr Mills could be trusted. It was true that two men could move more easily around London. She nodded. ‘All right, thank you.’

‘I shall call him in,’ Mrs Mills replied, looking relieved.

He was duly summoned. Mills had a calm air about him and his deeply lined face, from years as a sea captain, tended to give the impression of being permanently grave. But at the same time his sharp blue eyes appeared to hold constant amusement, and it was this genial gaze that now gave Jane hope.

‘Well, well,’ he said, having listened silently as Winifred and her cohort explained the plan. ‘That
is
a bit of fun.’ He slipped a small flattish box of tortoiseshell from his waistcoat pocket. Jane caught the flash of ivory inlay as he flipped the lid open
and pinched out a tiny fingertip of snuff. The ladies waited while he inhaled this into one nostril, then repeated the action with a fresh pinch of snuff in the other. After much sniffing and blinking, he returned the box in a practised move to his waistcoat. ‘And what does the Earl think of this grand idea?’ he asked her.

Jane took a breath. ‘He sounded as intrigued as you do, Mr Mills.’

The old sea captain chuckled. ‘I applaud your pluck, Countess.’

‘I admit to feeling ashamed at including your wife and Mrs Morgan in my plot, sir, but I fear I cannot carry out my plan without them and their similar height. With all my heart I believe I can get both of these generous ladies in and out of the Tower without danger. They will be seen but not recalled later in any detail. As for your good self, if you would simply wait with Miss Evans in the carriage until my husband is delivered, then find him somewhere of no consequence to lie low, that is all I would ask of you. The more humble the hideout, the better.’

‘Indeed,’ Mills said, sniffing again. ‘I do believe I know just the spot.’

‘So you will help?’ Jane asked.

‘Without question, I shall.’ He took his wife’s hand and patted it. ‘I cannot have Mrs Mills cavorting around London, engaged in a daring adventure to save a good man’s life, and not do the same. My dear Countess, I have the utmost respect for the Earl. And I share much of London society’s dismay at how poorly the King of England has treated a noblewoman.’

Jane did not want to give them much more time for reflection.

‘Oh, thank you, Mr Mills,’ she said, standing up and clapping her pleasure. ‘Then a slight change of plan means that I can have you waiting in a carriage for William and he can fall as a helplessly weeping wife into your arms.’ She waited, then looked at each of them. ‘So you all agree to help me then, dear friends?’