The King's Mistress (21 page)

Nurse was solicitous of her these days, knowing that she was distressed over Ellen Norton’s miscarriage and endangered health. That was true, of course, but Jane longed to be able to confide in Nurse about her love for Charles, her fear at the lack of word that he had reached safety, and the possibility that she might be carrying his child. As Nurse brushed her hair one evening, singing a lullaby that brought Jane back to the times of her earliest memories, she leaned back against the pillowy bosom, tears in her eyes. Would Nurse understand if she spilled forth her secrets? She might. But Jane bit back the words. If it came to pass that she knew without question she was with child, then she would seek Nurse’s help. But until that day came, she must wrap her love and fear close to her heart, though she felt she would choke.

A
FORTNIGHT AFTER
F
RANCIS
Y
ATES’S HANGING
, J
OHN WAS GOING
into Wolverhampton to sell a load of coal and pay a levy to the local committee, and Jane went with him, hoping that there might be news of Charles and seeking distraction from her worries. But there seemed to be even more troops in the streets and marketplace than there had been a few weeks earlier, and she felt vulnerable and frightened. She and John had just left the town hall when a man’s voice called to him.

“Colonel Lane!”

They turned and Jane was surprised to see that the man approaching them was a Parliamentary officer. It took her a moment to realise that it was her old suitor Geoff Stone. She had not seen him in years. He was even more handsome than she remembered, with the same smiling green eyes and curling brown hair, but he had acquired an air of maturity and command that he had lacked in the days when he was courting her.

“Jane.”

He bowed, and for a moment it seemed as if the war and all that had passed since they had last met had never taken place.

“Geoff.” Jane was annoyed with herself that her voice betrayed her vulnerability and the mixed emotions she had upon seeing him.

“Good afternoon, Colonel Stone,” John greeted Geoff, and the two men bowed and shook hands.

“I’m pleased to see you safely returned from your journey to Bristol,” Stone said, gazing at Jane, and something in his tone made her uneasy. He seemed on the verge of speaking again, but held his silence.

“Yes,” Jane said. “I thank you for your pass, that I might see my friend.”

“I trust you found her well?”

“I—no.”

The tears welled in Jane’s eyes as she thought of her last sight of Ellen. She had received a letter from Ellen a few days earlier, assuring Jane that she was feeling much better and asking after the health of Jane’s father, and her loving selflessness made Jane feel like a monster for having abandoned her.

“I’m most sorry to hear it,” Stone said. “She recovers?”

“Yes,” Jane said. “Thank you, she will do well enough in time.”

It was odd to be having a normal conversation with a man in the uniform of what would always seem the enemy to her, and yet Geoff’s gentle voice and kind eyes brought back very clearly their mutual affection of long ago. She could not quite think of him as the enemy. And yet if he knew how she had passed the second half of September …

“What news, Colonel Stone?” John asked, sensing Jane’s unease.

“None that will be welcome to you, I fear, Colonel Lane. The Earl of Derby will be executed tomorrow at Bolton, I hear.”

There seemed nothing to say to that, and there was an awkward silence.

Stone glanced around. The marketplace was busy with soldiers, country people, and town folk, but no one was nearby. He took a step closer to Jane and John, and when he spoke his voice was so low that Jane could hardly hear him.

“There are stories going about that Charles Stuart escaped with the help of a lady.”

The hairs on the back of Jane’s neck stood up.

“I’ve heard no names, nor anything definite,” he continued, glancing from John to Jane. “But the rumours are there.”

Jane stared at him. Surely he was not merely passing along gossip. Was this a threat? A warning?

Geoff stepped back smartly and bowed.

“A pleasure to see you, Jane. Always happy to be of service to you. Colonel.”

He nodded to John and walked away without another word.

“Dear God,” Jane whispered. “He knows.”

“He cannot know,” John said, watching Stone disappear in the crowded street. “But he suspects. You’re right about that.”

“What shall I do?”

“Nothing yet. But I fear we must give thought to what may come.”

T
HE NEXT EVENING SHORTLY AFTER DARK
J
ANE HEARD A HORSE
thundering up the drive to the house. She did not recognise the cloaked rider who threw his reins to a groom and ran towards the back door. Alarmed, she hurried down the stairs and was astonished to see Geoff Stone striding towards her from the kitchen, his hair on end and his face wet with the rain.

“Jane, thank God you’re here,” he said, grasping her by the arms and glancing wild-eyed behind him. “You are discovered. The Council of State in London has issued a warrant for your arrest. You must fly, and quickly.”

Jane gaped at him, too shocked to reply. He put a wet hand to her cheek, kissed her briefly on the mouth, and was gone.

J
ANE
, J
OHN, AND
H
ENRY SAT IN THE BANQUETING HOUSE, THE DARK
broken only by the fractured beams of light cast through the perforated tin sides of a lantern.

“Many have gone to the Low Countries,” Henry said. “Of course the king’s sister’s court is there.”

“But the king was going to France,” Jane said. “If we are to flee, let us go to where he is.”

“We don’t know that he has reached France,” Henry said.

“We would have heard if he had been taken,” Jane argued. “And his mother is in Paris, and his brothers.”

“My thought,” John said, “is that you will both be safest if you do not travel together. If they know that both of you were with the king, they will be looking for both of you. Each of you alone is less recognisable.”

Alone. The word thudded into the pit of Jane’s stomach. Fleeing for her life was bad enough, but to face it alone—where would she find the courage?

“You’re right,” Henry agreed. “And the more false scents we can drag across our trail, the better. I can give out that I am going to Scotland, and make it seem as though I go to join the king there.”

“But go somewhere else in truth?” Jane asked. “Where?”

“Don’t say,” John cut in. “You’ll be safer, Jane, if you don’t know.”

“So I’m to fly alone and not even know where to find Henry?” Jane cried, feeling that it was all too much to bear.

“You will not be alone,” John said. “I’m going with you.”

“But your family …” She thought of John’s wife, his eight girls and little boy left without his protection.

“It can’t be helped,” he said. “First, I landed you in the fire and I must keep you from being burned by it. Secondly, if they know you were with the king, they surely know I had a hand in the scheme.”

Jane looked from John to Henry. Their grim faces were eerie in the shadows.

“When shall we go?” she asked.

“As soon as we may,” John said. “Tomorrow early, before the household is stirring.”

“Tomorrow!” Jane gasped. “But everyone is abed already; there will be no time for goodbyes.”

A cold draught blew through the room, making the flame in the lantern gutter and waver.

“It’s better so,” John said. “They’ll come looking for us. Remember how they treated poor Giffard at Whiteladies when they thought the king was hidden there. They beat him and laid waste to the house. They dishonoured the women, searching their persons. It will be safer for those we leave behind if they truly do not know where we are, and cannot be forced to give us up.”

Jane shivered and began to weep quietly. When she had first declared she would gladly do whatever she could to help the king, it had not occurred to her that she might have to leave family and home without a farewell. She thought of her father’s distress and surprise when he would find her gone, her mother’s fear for her safety. She thought of Clement Fisher, and her promise to give him an answer in a day or two. She thought of her cat, Jack. She had missed him during her journey with Charles, and he had slept with her every night since her return, as if doing so could keep her from going again. Who would love him as she did?

“You’re right,” Henry said. “I will be gone before daybreak.”

John stood with him and they embraced.

“Jane,” Henry said, dropping to one knee before her. He took her hands in his and looked up into her eyes. “You have more pluck than many a soldier. You have already done a hero’s work, and I am sorry that now you are called upon to do more. But John will be with you and you will be well. And even without him, I’d put my money on you against any man of Cromwell’s.”

Jane had been through so much with Henry in the weeks past that she was filled with desolation at the loss of his company.

“Oh, Henry,” she cried, holding him to her. “I will scarce know what to do without you. Thank you. For all you have done for me. Go with God. And if He is willing, we shall see each other across the sea.”

And then Henry slipped out into the cold blackness, and was gone.

“We must go afoot,” John said. “And it will be safer to go a different way altogether than you have already been. To Yarmouth, I think. We can find a boat there for France.”

“Yarmouth.” Jane knew it was on the east coast of the country, but no more. “How far is it?”

“Two hundred miles, perhaps a little more. The map will guide us. Leicester to Peterborough to King’s Lynn to Norwich, and thence to the sea. But, Jane, it will be rough travelling. You must not look like the lady who was seen riding with the king. We must accoutre ourselves as country folk, and travel on foot.”

Jane thought of Rosalind and Celia preparing to set forth for the Forest of Arden, and almost laughed out loud despite herself as a thought struck her.

“What?” John asked.

“‘Were it not better,’” she murmured, “‘because that I am more than common tall, that I did suit me all points like a man?’”

John looked at her as if she were mad.

“As You Like It,”
she explained. “But, John, it’s a good idea!”

“For you to put on man’s attire? Certainly not!”

“They will be looking for me! A woman! With such a face and of such a height, and hair of such a colour. But if they see a lad they will not think to question it.”

“Absolutely not.” John shook his head impatiently.

“It worked with the king. He passed right under the noses of soldiers, blacksmiths, ostlers, kitchen maids, and none took him for other than what he pretended to be. If he can do it, so can I.”

John buried his face in his hands and groaned. “It’s not a lark we are setting out on, Jane.”

“I know it, John. I know it well. My life is at stake and yours, too. I laugh because if I do not I will cry.”

“Very well,” he sighed.

“I will at least write a letter,” Jane said. “I cannot break Father’s heart.”

“No,” John agreed. “Nor would I break Athalia’s. Write a letter, then, but we must be gone before sunrise.”

I
N THE END IT WAS
J
ACK THE CAT FROM WHOM
J
ANE TOOK LEAVE IN
person, and she found the parting almost unbearable. She kissed and cuddled him, and he responded as always with his rumbling purr.

“I’ll be back as soon as ever I may,” she whispered, rubbing his round belly and jowls. “Don’t forget me, Jack.”

He blinked and purred deep in his chest, and she gave his sleek coat one more stroke before taking up the leather satchel that held all she would take with her and slipping from the room.

John was waiting at the banqueting house, heavily cloaked and holding a stout wooden staff. He took in her appearance with a shake of the head.

“Here,” he said. “If you’re putting on the person of a lad, you might as well be armed like one.”

He held up a dagger.

“If you’re threatened face-to-face and can get to the knife, aim for the throat. Straight up, just under the chin.”

Jane stared at him and thought of herself plunging cold steel into a man’s gullet.

“I’ll teach you more later,” John said, handing her the staff. “And in the meantime, remember that a stick comes in handy for defence as well as for walking.”

Jane hefted the tall oak stick in her hand. It was heavy enough to do real harm if she swung it with all her strength.

“Come,” John said. “It will be light within the hour, and we must be past Walsall and as far beyond as possible by then.”

They set off down the lane towards the Wolverhampton Road, and a few minutes later Jane turned to look at the house, but it was already invisible in the blackness of the night.

L
ATE MORNING FOUND
J
ANE AND
J
OHN APPROACHING THE VILLAGE
of Little Aston. They had met a few other travellers, country people driving animals to market, and Jane was thankful it was a cool day, for already she had walked much farther than ever she had in her life, but the thought that every step took them farther from the danger of being arrested helped her press on. They had brought food so they would not have to enter an inn or tavern for their noon meal, and they walked a little distance off the road to eat, sitting beneath a great chestnut tree. There was a crossroads ahead, and John pointed at the track that headed south into the fields.

“That’s a Roman road. We’ll take it—it will be less travelled than the main road. Odd to think, isn’t it, that we still tread the same paths that men walked more than a thousand years ago?”

Jane gazed at the narrow road disappearing into the horizon. Her legs and buttocks already ached with the unaccustomed exercise, and her shoulders with the weight of the bag.

“Somehow,” she said, “it gives me strength to think of them. Roman centurions marching across the countryside as we do now.”