The King's Daughters

by Emily Sarah Holt

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

  SUMPTUOUS APARTMENTS.

  "Well, be sure! who ever saw such a lad? Sent out to play at four o'the clock, and all o'er mud at five! Where hast thou been, Will? Speakthe truth, now!"

  "Been down by the brook rush-plaiting," said little Will, looking as ifhis mind were not quite made up whether to cry or to be sulky.

  "The mischievousness of lads! Didn't I tell thee to mind and keep thyclothes clean?"

  "You're always after clothes! How could I plait rushes and keep 'emclean?"

  "And who told you to plait rushes, Master Impudence? Take that."_That_ was a sound box on the ear which Ursula delivered by way ofillustration to her remarks. "What's become o' Phil Tye? I thought hewas going to look after thee."

  "Well, he did, a bit: then he and Jem Morris went off bird-nesting."

  "I'll give it him when I see him! Where's Cicely?"

  "She's somewhere," said Will, looking round the cottage, as if heexpected to see her in some corner.

  "I reckon I could have told thee so much. Did Mistress Wade find you?"

  "She was down at the brook: but she went after Cis."

  "Well, thou'lt have to go to bed first thing, for them clothes must bewashed."

  Will broke into a howl. "It isn't bed-time nor it isn't washing-day!"

  "It's bed-time when thou'rt bidden to go. As to washing-day, it'salways washing-day where thou art. Never was such a boy, I do believe,for getting into the mud. Thou'rt worser ten times o'er than thou wert.I do wish lads 'd stop babes till they're men, that one could tuck 'emin the cradle and leave 'em! There's never a bit of peace! I would theBlack Ladies 'd come for you. I shall be mighty thankful when they do,be sure."

  "Mistress Wade 'll have us," suggested Master William, briskly, lookingup at Ursula.

  "Hold that pert tongue o' thine! Mistress Wade's not like to have you.You're in my care, and I've no leave to deliver you to any save theBlack Ladies."

  "Well! I wouldn't mind camping out a bit, if you're so set to be rid ofus," said Will, reflectively. "There's a blanket you've got rolled upin the loft, that 'd make a tent, and we could cut down poles, if you'lllend us an axe; and--"

  "You cut down poles! Marry come up! You're not about to have any of myblankets, nor my axes neither."

  "It wouldn't be so bad," Will went on, still in a meditative key, "onlyfor dinner. I don't see where we should get that."

  "I see that you're off to bed this minute, and don't go maundering abouttents and axes. You cut down poles! you'd cut your fingers off, morelike. Now then, be off to the loft! Not another word! March!"

  Just as Ursula was sweeping Will upstairs before her, a rap came on thedoor.

  "There! didn't I say a body never had a bit of peace?--Go on, Will, andget to bed; and mind thou leaves them dirty clothes on the floor bytheirselves: don't go to dirt everything in the room with 'em.--Walk in,Mistress Wade! So you found Cis?"

  "Ay, I found her," said the landlady, as she and Cissy came in together.

  "Cis, do thou go up, maid, and see to Will a bit. He's come in all o'ermud and mire, and I sent him up to bed, but there's no trusting him togo. See he does, prithee, and cast his clothes into the tub yonder,there's a good maid."

  Cissy knew very well that Ursula spoke so amiably because Mrs Wade wasthere to hear her. She went up to look after her little brother, andthe landlady turned to Ursula.

  "Now, Ursula Felstede, I want these children."

  "Then you must ask leave from the Queen's Commissioners, Mistress Wade.Eh, I couldn't give 'em up if it were ever so! I daren't, for the lifeo' me!"

  Mrs Wade begged, coaxed, lectured, and almost threatened her, but foronce Ursula was firm. She dared not give up the children, and she wasquite honest in saying so. Mrs Wade had to go home without them.

  As she came up, very weary and unusually dispirited, to the archway ofthe King's Head, she heard voices from within.

  "I tell you she's not!" said Dorothy Denny's voice in a ratherfrightened tone; "she went forth nigh four hours agone, and whither Iknow not."

  "That's an inquiry for me," said Mrs Wade to herself, as she sprangdown from her old black mare, and gave her a pat before dismissing herto the care of the ostler, who ran up to take her. "Good Jenny! goodold lass!--Is there any company, Giles?" she asked of the ostler.

  "Mistress, 'tis Master Maynard the Sheriff and he's making inquirationfor you. I would you could ha' kept away a bit longer!"

  "Dost thou so, good Giles? Well, I would as God would. The Sheriff hadbest have somebody else to deal with him than Doll and Bab." And shewent forward into the kitchen.

  Barbara, her younger servant, who was only a girl, stood leaning againsta dresser, looking very white and frightened, with the rolling-pin inher hand; she had evidently been stopped in the middle of making a pie.Dorothy stood on the hearth, fronting the terrible Sheriff, who wasarmed with a writ, and evidently did not mean to leave before he hadseen the mistress.

  "I am here, Mr Maynard, if you want me," said Mrs Wade, quite calmly.

  "Well said," answered the Sheriff, turning to her. "I have here a writfor your arrest, my mistress, and conveyance to the Bishop's Court atLondon, there to answer for your ill deeds."

  "I am ready to answer for all my deeds, good and ill, to any that have aright to question me. I will go with you.--Bab, go and tell Giles toleave the saddle on Jenny.--Doll, here be my keys; take them, and do thebest thou canst. I believe thee honest and well-meaning, but I'm fearedthe house shall ne'er keep up its credit. Howbeit, that cannot behelped. Do thy best, and the Lord be with you! As to directions, Iwere best to leave none; maybe they should but hamper thee, and set theein perplexity. Keep matters clean, and pay as thou goest--thou wistwhere to find the till; and fear God--that's all I need say. And if itcome in thy way to do a kind deed for any, and in especial those poorlittle children that thou wist of, do it, as I would were I here: ay,and let Cissy know when all's o'er with her father. And pray for me,and I'll do as much for thee--that we may do our duty and please God,and for bodily safety let it be according to His will.--Now, MasterMaynard, I am ready."

  Four days later, several strokes were rang on the great bell of theBishop's Palace at Fulham. The gaoler came to his gate when summoned bythe porter.

  "Here's a prisoner up from Colchester--Philippa Wade, hostess of theKing's Head there. Have you room?"

  "Room and to spare. Heresy, I reckon?"

  "Ay, heresy,--the old tale. There must be a nest of it yonder down inEssex."

  "There's nought else all o'er the country, methinks," said the gaolerwith a laugh. "Come in, Mistress; I'll show you your lodging. HisLordship hath an apartment in especial, furnished of polished black oak,that he keepeth for such as you. Pray you follow me."

  Mrs Wade followed the jocose gaoler along a small paved passage betweentwo walls, and through a low door, which the gaoler barred behind her,himself outside, and then opened a little wicket through which to speak.

  "Pray you, sit down, my mistress, on whichsoever of the chairs you countdesirable. The furniture is all of one sort, fair and goodly;far-fetched and dear-bought, which is good for gentlewomen, and likeththem: fast colours the broidery, I do ensure you."

  Mrs Wade looked round, so far as she could see by the little wicket,everything was black--even the floor, which was covered with blackshining lumps of all shapes and sizes. She touched one of the lumps.There, could be no doubt of its nature. The "polished black oak"furniture was cobs of coal, and the sumptuous apartment wherein she wasto--lodged was Bishop Bonner's coal-cellar.