Authors: Philippa Carr
‘Can’t say I’ve heard of it. Have you come far?’
‘Some twenty miles.’
‘That accounts for it. Now, Master Thorley, if you can pay me on the spot I’ll find room for you; No question of that.’
‘My sister and I will consider what is best to be done,’ he said.
‘Well, you’d better consider fast, young gentleman, for I hear horses coming into the yard. There’ll be others looking for a night’s lodging on a night like this is going to be.’
When she had gone we looked fearfully at each other. Who were the new arrivals? What if, discovering our disappearance, Sir Thomas Frenshaw had sent someone after us to bring us back—or perhaps come himself?
I stretched out my hand and Dickon took it and held it comfortingly.
‘You should not have come with me,’ I said. ‘You could have let me escape and told them it was no fault of yours.’
‘No, no,’ he replied. ‘I had to come with you. How would you have fared alone?’
We stood still looking at each other and in that moment of danger we knew without doubt that we loved, and that life would be empty for each of us without the other.
Our fears were momentarily lulled for the arrivals were a party of travellers who in view of the sudden change in the weather had decided they could not continue with their journey but would spend the night in the Red Cow.
They came into the parlour noisily and boisterously, invading our privacy and dispersing as they did so that wonderful intimacy I had shared with Dickon. We sat side by side on a settle in a corner of the room while the three men and three women occupied the table and were served with hot pease soup.
The women looked at us with curiosity and gave us friendly smiles. We were ready when they began to ask questions and we told them that we were a brother and sister who were going to York and that our grooms with the saddle-bags were following us.
‘Two young ’uns like you on the road,’ cried the eldest of the women. ‘My patience! I wouldn’t like one of mine to be travelling like that.’
‘My brother has a strong arm,’ I said.
‘And proud of him you are, I can see. Well, we’re going to York. Best ride along with us, eh, Harry?’ She appealed to none of the men.
The man addressed as Harry surveyed us genially and nodded, ‘Safety in numbers,’ he said with a wink.
The innkeeper’s wife came bustling in. ‘Eee,’ she said. ‘Be wanting to stay the night, then?’
‘Reckon there’s no help for it, Missus.’
‘Inn’s full,’ she answered. She looked at us all and scratched her head, pushing the mobcap back to do so and then carefully replacing it. ‘What I’ll have to do is give you pallets in the gallery. We call it Makeshift Gallery.’ She tittered. ‘Nights like this you often gets more than you’ve beds for.’
The woman who had spoken to us said that reckon they’d be glad to have a roof over their heads on a night like this was going to be.
The innkeeper’s wife looked at us. ‘These two young ’uns will be in the gallery too. It’s all we can offer.’
My heart sank. I could see that these hearty, well-meaning travellers had broken into our magic. We were members of a party now—no longer alone.
‘It could have been worse,’ Dickon whispered to me. ‘It could have been my uncle to take us back to… who knows what.’
All during the late afternoon the snow fell so that there was a blanket of it on the roads and the window-sills were covered. Our companions did not mind in the least. It was an amusing adventure to them. The woman came over to us and asked questions. What about our poor mother? She would be worried about us, wouldn’t she? But she would be thinking we were with the grooms. Had we been a bit wicked? Had we lost them a-purpose?
I thought it was best that they should think we had, and tried to look arch and coy.
‘Wicked… wicked…’ said the youngest of the women, shaking her finger at us. And we came from Thorley Manor, did we? Gentry, eh? Well, she could see that. It didn’t need no sign like to tell her. We’d got gentry written all over us… the both of us. Never mind, they would look after us. Mercy had it that they too were on the road to York. We should go along with them. There were some rough characters on the road. They’d think nothing of slitting your throat for the price of a goblet of ale. Never mind: Luck was with us. We’d fallen in with the Macksons and the Freelys, who were in the business of wool. Partners they were, and travelling to York with their families all for the purpose of selling wool.
They were kindly; they meant well; and we could not help liking them.
They sang. Their raucous voices filled the inn parlour and the innkeeper and his wife came in from time to time to supply their needs. There would be sucking-pig for supper that night, we were told almost conspiratorially, and there were cries of approval and one of the men shouted: ‘And plenty of stuffing, Missus.’
‘Ee, I’ll see to that,’ answered the innkeeper’s wife.
The snow continued to fall; the candles guttered and the company sang. The youngest of the men had a good voice.
‘You gentlemen of England,’ he rendered,
‘Who live at home at ease
Full little do you think upon
The danger of the seas…’
And they all joined in at the end of each verse:
‘When the stormy winds do blow… o… o… o… o
When the stormy winds do blow.’
And one of the women sang; ‘The Frog he would a-Wooing Ride.’ I knew that whenever after I heard that song I should be back in that inn parlour with the fire blazing and the snow falling fast outside.
The sucking-pig arrived in due course and we were all one merry party with the other travellers who were staying at the Red Cow. The men talked about the troubles.
‘They say the Pretender’s on his way… may even have landed by now.’
‘He should stay where he is. Don’t he know when he’s not wanted?’
I caught Dickon’s hand and pressed it warningly for I was afraid he might betray himself. The company would not be very pleased to have a Jacobite among them.
They came down as far as Preston,’ said one of the travellers. ‘We was ready for him. Routed they was… the Highlanders of Scotland. What are they up to coming into our country? Up to no good, that’s what.’
‘We soon sent ’em packing.’
‘You don’t think there’ll be war?’ asked one of the women: ‘We don’t want none of that. I remember hearing my granddad tell me what it was like when there was war in the country.’
‘There’s been war only a little while back,’ said one of them.
‘Oh, that wasn’t here. Don’t call that a war. I mean war… when they’re fighting here… on English soil… Englishman against Englishman so your friend today is your enemy tomorrow… and who’s to know what’s what. That’s what I mean. We don’t want none of that.’
‘There’s not going to be none of that. The Jacks is beat before they start. Come on, Bess, give us a song.’
So they sang and Dickon and I sat listening and at last we all retired to the gallery and lay down on our pallets. Dickon and I were very close to each other. We held hands, but did not speak for fear of waking the others. There was no need for words. I lay there thinking of the enormity of what he had done for me. He had set aside his loyalty to his uncle, his entire belief in the righteousness of his cause; and he had done this for love of me. I did not know how I could ever repay him.
I lay sleepless, and I know he did too. During the night the rain started to fall, and in the morning it had washed the snow away.
We were up early and ready to leave. We set off in the company of our fellow travellers and just as dusk was beginning to descend we saw the towers of the Minster and the ancient walls of the city.
‘Your friends are here?’ said the wool merchant to Dickon.
‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘I thank you for allowing us to ride with you.’
‘Eee, nothing to that, lad. Twas only decent. Two young ’uns like you shouldn’t take journeys alone. Where be going?’
‘To the Mayor’s house,’ said Dickon. I caught my breath. I had told him that when we were in York my uncle, Lance Clavering and I had stayed at the Mayor’s house.
The party was impressed.
‘Didn’t I tell you they was gentry?’ whispered the oldest of the women.
We came through Goodramgate up to the Shambles and there we said goodbye to our companions. I had come along this road before so I knew the way to the Mayor’s house. There it stood, an imposing residence, apart from the small houses of the narrow streets.
As we approached my heart leaped, for Lance Clavering was walking out of the house. He stopped in amazement and stared.
‘Clarissa!’ he cried. I had forgotten how handsome he was. He looked quite magnificent in his embroidered coat, the cuffs of which were decorated with mauves and blues of the most delicate shading. His cravat was a mass of frills; and his pale blue stockings were rolled above the knee, which I learned was the latest fashion; on his high-heeled, shining black shoes buckles glittered. He swept off his three-cornered hat and bowed low.
‘Oh… Lance!’ I exclaimed.
He took my hand and kissed it.
‘Why…? What does this mean?’ He looked at Dickon who was gazing at him in a kind of wonder as though he could not believe this scintillating apparition was real.
‘This is, er…’ I hesitated, for fear had seized me. There was danger in the air and I must be careful not to betray Dickon. ‘Jack Thorley,’ I added. ‘He brought me here.’
‘Good day to you, Jack Thorley.’
‘This is Sir Lance Clavering,’ I said. ‘A friend of my family.’
There was no need to explain. I had already told Dickon how my Uncle Carl and Lance Clavering had brought me to York. In fact it was for this reason that I had been held captive.
‘You had better come into the house,’ said Lance. ‘Then you can tell us all about it. We thought you were at Hessenfield. And we were anxious about it too, I can tell you… the way things have gone. Let’s take your horses to the stables.’ He walked beside me. ‘I’m surprised that your uncle let you leave Hessenfield.’
‘There is a great deal to tell you, Lance. Is my Uncle Carl here?’
‘He will be back this night. There is a great deal to occupy him. Things have been happening since you left.’
‘I know.’
Dickon had said nothing all this time. I guessed he was not sure what he ought to do now, having delivered me into the safe keeping of Lance Clavering, and wondering whether it would be wise for him to leave immediately.
‘Did you come alone?’ asked Lance. ‘Just you two?’
‘Well… we travelled with some other people,’ I said evasively.
‘You had a good journey, I trust.’ Lance’s glance took in Dickon.
‘Yes, thanks,’ said Dickon. ‘No trouble at all.’
‘Well, you must be weary. We’ll see that you get some food and a bed for the night. I suppose you’ll want to get back to Hessenfield as soon as possible.’
‘I must do that,’ answered Dickon.
‘You won’t run into trouble. We’ve sent off those accursed Highlanders. The impertinence! Do you know, they got as far as Preston. They’re well and safely back across the Border now—those that got away.’
I watched Dickon wince.
‘Hopeless!’ went on Lance. ‘What they thought they were doing, I can’t imagine. What happened, Clarissa? Did you long to come home?’
‘It seemed time that I did.’
Lance laughed out loud. ‘She’s a determined young lady,’ he said to Dickon. ‘I expect you found that out at Hessenfield.’
Dickon nodded.
When we came into the house Laura Garston, the Mayor’s wife, greeted me warmly, after she had expressed her amazement at seeing me.
‘These two young people are exhausted,’ said Lance. ‘Clarissa is going to tell us all about it later on. In the meantime they would like to wash and eat and rest, I do not doubt. This is Jack Thorley, one of Hessenfield’s young men.’
Dickon had a nobility of manner which was immediately discernible to Lance. He had at first thought him to be a groom but in a few seconds, man of the world that he was, he was treating Dickon as an equal. I liked him for it and in spite of the fact that I was worried about Dickon I felt a glow of pleasure to be in his exhilarating company again.
In the house, rooms were prepared for us and we washed away the grime of the journey.
As soon as we had done this we had a meal during which Dickon and I had a chance to exchange a few words together.
‘I cannot stay here,’ he said. ‘I shall have to go.’
‘Shall we see each other again?’
‘We shall. We
must.
I will think of something.’
‘They will send me home. We shall be miles apart.’
‘I tell you I will find a way. If I stay here… if they know who I am…’
‘Yes, yes. You are in as much danger here as I was in Hessenfield. These stupid… stupid men! I get so angry with them.’
‘This is no time for anger. I must leave here at once.’
‘Yes, you must go. I see that. When my uncle comes back… when they start asking questions…’
‘They will not be so friendly towards me then. Oh, Clarissa, why did you have to be with
them?
You belong with us.’
‘I belong to myself and I am aloof from these foolish quarrels. I don’t care whether you are for George or James. You know that.’
‘I love you,’ said Dickon.
‘I love you,’ I replied.
We smiled at each other. ‘Those days in the attic… I shall never forget them,’ he said.
‘Nor shall I. I wish I were back there. I wish I was still on the road. I wish I were in Makeshift Gallery.’
‘Oh. Clarissa, Clarissa…’ That way of repeating my name never failed to move me. ‘I will come back for you. No matter what happens, I swear I will come.’
‘Yes, I know. And you must go now, Dickon. You are facing a dangerous risk and the longer you stay the more dangerous it becomes for you. I shall be thinking of you… on the road… back there… Shall you go to Scotland? Oh, Dickon, don’t. Leave them to fight their silly wars if they must, but not you… not you… Let us think of a way we can be together.’
‘When it is over… When the rightful King is on the throne… I will come for you. I will ask for your hand in marriage. I will take you away with me… and we shall live happily ever after.’