'He went after Mr Blagrave encountered him at the Crown, and told him of our suspicions,' James reported to her when he was in an unusually benign mood. 'I could have wished otherwise, but no matter, for when the fighting is done, and if he has not been killed, I will hunt him down and bring him to justice. He left in considerable haste, I am told, so he was obviously frightened.'
'Frightened? You delude yourself if you think Sir Randal would ever be afraid, especially of a windbag like Jacob Blagrave!' Drusilla retorted.
Mr Blagrave remained in Devizes to torment her further by persisting in his courtship. He told Drusilla he was there to do business with the woollen merchants, braving the small local Royalist garrison in the town, for Parliament wished to encourage the trade, so necessary for prosperity and the consequent payment of taxes, and apparently Mr Blagrave had some special commission from them. Despite Drusilla's coldness and repeated refusals to listen to him, he blandly assumed that eventually she would succumb, or be forced to marry him.
During these weeks Drusilla's only consolation was to escape from the town and renew her friendship with Tom Copley. She roamed over the downs with him, and sometimes Tom's young brother George, who lived with him in a small cottage at the foot of Beacon Hill, came with them. At these times her misery was partially dulled, although she thought she would never regain contentment after the glimpse of happiness she had been shown. It was only for brief moments she forgot Sir Randal, for she was constantly reliving all their times together, or wondering what had become of him, and whether he had yet returned from Cornwall to Thornton Hall and married Mary Percy.
*
News of the war came slowly to Devizes, but Drusilla took little interest apart from wondering where Sir Randal was. She did not care about the fortifying of London that was continuing, or the news from the north where the Royalists were having some successes. When news of Hopton's victory at Stratton came in the middle of May, she cared only to wonder for the hundredth time whether Randal had completed his mission and left Cornwall. The intelligence that Lord Essex had penetrated to within five miles of Oxford was more worrying, but it was a solitary effort, and soon tales of the exploits of Prince Rupert filtered through, mainly of his daring raids on Parliamentary outposts between Oxford and London. Drusilla thought back with wonder to the time when she had met this man about whom marvellous stories crediting him with almost magical powers were beginning to be told.
James was more concerned for events in the west, and when he heard Waller was leaving the siege of Worcester in an attempt, vain, as it happened, to prevent the forces of Hopton, Lord Hertford, and Prince Maurice from joining together, he departed from Devizes to rejoin the army.
June passed. With James' departure Drusilla felt less threatened, for she could withstand Jacob Blagrave's entreaties by ignoring them, or patiently repeating she had no intention of agreeing to wed him. Her father occasionally berated her for a fool, but she was never sure whether he referred to her loss of Randal or refusal of Blagrave, and she did not care sufficiently to argue, knowing it could have no effect. Only from her mother did she feel she received some sympathy, for Mistress Matthews, perturbed at her daughter's utter want of spirits, sought to comfort her in little ways. She was too much afraid of her husband, though, to insist he send Mr Blagrave away, and she secretly hoped that eventually his continued devotion might bring Drusilla to appreciate and accept him. Realising the escapes on to the downs, and the rides and walks with Tom Copley helped Drusilla to remain calm, she contrived to keep these secret from her husband, often saying, when he asked where Drusilla was, that she had sent her on some errand, and warning Drusilla not to allow her father to know where she had been.
On the first Thursday of July, Drusilla was in the market buying butter when she heard a man nearby excitedly telling a small crowd news of a recent battle.
'Near Bath, it were,' he was saying, 'on Tuesday. The Cornish won, as they did at Stratton, by running straight up the side of a steep hill. I do hear they have marvellous steep hills in Cornwall and Devon, but they must breed special men! I'd not be able to run up Beacon Hill, and these by all accounts be steeper!'
'The King won?' someone asked worriedly. 'What will that do to our trade?'
'Well, he may have won, but he did not have it all his own way,' the news carrier said slowly. 'Sir Bevil Grenvile, and several others of the Cornish leaders, were killed, and since men won't easily go out of their own counties, and it was only for him and Hopton they left Cornwall behind, no doubt they'll go back. I hear Sir William Waller is still strong enough to be chasing them back after he brought his men together again.
Drusilla experienced some concern then for James. She had been so lost in her own misery she had given little thought to his possible danger, but now she realised he was liable to be killed or wounded, and she wished they had not been so deeply at odds when he had left Devizes.
On the following day they heard the two armies were moving eastwards from Bath, and the Royalists had halted at Chippenham, ten miles distant, on their way to try and join with the King at Oxford.
'When they have gone past, James will be able to come and visit us again,' Mistress Matthews said, pleased at the prospect of seeing her son.
On Saturday, there was no further news, and on Sunday, to escape a promised visit from Jacob Blagrave, Drusilla had her mare saddled and rode out on to the downs. She found Tom, sitting under a clump of trees and whittling away at a piece of wood that he quickly turned into an astonishingly lifelike replica of a rabbit, a family of which were playing happily a short distance away in a small hollow.
She sat beside him, while her mare was content to crop the short, springy turf, and listened as he talked of the rabbits, telling her how, long ago, when he was a small boy, he had brought a baby rabbit that had been lost back to his father's small cottage, which he now lived in himself, and reared it.
'It were a mistake, Mistress Drusilla,' he concluded wistfully. 'I tried to send him back to the downs when he grew old enough to feed for himself, but he had forgotten the dangers, and a fox got him the first night. I could hear him screaming, not far from the hut, but I was too late. The next day I found the trail of blood where the fox had carried him off.'
Drusilla shuddered.
'Poor little rabbit. I suppose he was too trusting.'
'Aye. It might have been better to have left him to die when he was a baby, instead of letting him enjoy life only to lose it.'
Drusilla thought of her own lost love. Would she have preferred never to have met Randal?
'No!' she said suddenly and vehemently. 'It is better to have something, even if only for a short while, than never to have had it at all! I'd rather experience both joy and sorrow than never have either.'
Tom smiled at her understandingly. She had never talked to him of Randal, but he seemed to have an instinct for her moods, and she felt he was by nature wise.
'The joy might return,' he consoled. 'And if it does not the sorrow will lessen. Even the rabbit suffered but a little while.'
After some time, during which they said nothing more, Drusilla stood up. 'I must go,' she said, looking across at the sun which was beginning to drop lower in the sky. 'I must not be late for supper, or father will demand to know what I have been doing.'
He nodded, and seemed totally absorbed in his carving. As she mounted and rode off he did not speak or even look after her. He was so contented, needing no one else, and as she rode along the western crest of the hills Drusilla envied him.
*
Below her, the plain spread out, marshy in parts, and dotted with several villages. As Drusilla reached the point where she would have to turn left to ride round the top of a deep ravine, she paused and looked back. Suddenly something caught her attention, and she narrowed her eyes, shading them against the glare of the sun. Below her, on the road leading from the village of Netherstreet, there was considerably more activity than might have been expected on a Sunday afternoon.
A long column of marching men were approaching Devizes, those at the front marching in apparent good order, but at the rear there was considerable confusion, and many horsemen galloping about. After a few moments, Drusilla perceived that the rear of the column was being attacked, and as she watched, wondering which army was which, she saw a detachment at the rear of the column halt and turn to face their attackers. They had chosen to halt at a ford about a mile out of the town, near the village of Rowde, and Drusilla soon saw they were endeavouring to deflect the attack from the main body, which was making as much speed as possible towards the town.
On realising that whichever army it was there would soon be soldiers in Devizes, and not wishing to experience again the alarums of Reading, Drusilla turned her horse and made the best speed she could through Roundway village and along the lane which led past St Mary's Church towards her home.
Already the news had reached the town, and after taking her mare along the small back roads to the stables, Drusilla went through the house to the front to peer out of the parlour window at the crowds milling about in the Market Place. From the comments she heard it appeared the Royalist army had marched from Chippenham, and the townsfolk, fearful of the trouble that was likely to be brought upon them, were helplessly discussing what to do.
Suddenly there was a knock on the door, and it was repeated with frantic haste long before any of the maids could go to open it. When it was opened, Drusilla heard her father coming from the small room he used as an office, and addressing the new arrival, asking in what way he could be of service.
Jacob Blagrave, stuttering in his nervousness, replied.
'Mr Matthews, you have always b-been kind. I must leave Devizes, I c-cannot stay! I am a known supporter of Parliament! They will k-kill me, but my horse has gone lame, and that wretched innkeeper will not lend me another! There is nowhere I c-can go, or I would not trouble you, but I b-beg you, assist me now! Lend me a horse!'
Drusilla opened the door and went out into the hall.
'Running away, Mr Blagrave?' she enquired sweetly, animated for a while at this evidence of his pusillanimity. He glared at her and straightened his shoulders a little.
'I wish to join Sir William Waller, and f-fight!' he managed to say. 'There is no point in remaining here, to be thrown into some stinking cell, and t-tortured!'
'No point whatsoever,' she agreed cordially. 'Father, I beg of you, do help Mr Blagrave to leave Devizes!'
Mr Matthews, anxious to rid himself of a visitor who might prove a danger if the Royalists were bent on vengeance, hastily agreed and led Jacob off through the house. The man was so fearful he did not even remember to bid Drusilla farewell, and she, a contemptuous smile on her lips, watched him go, hoping it was the last she would see of him.
She returned to the window, and gradually the townsfolk, realising they could do nothing, drifted back to their homes as the first of the Royalist foot entered the town, congregating in the Market Place until dispositions could be made.
Called by her mother to a somewhat belated supper, Drusilla left her vantage post. The whole family were eating this meal when a peremptory knock came on the door. One of the maids, with a startled look at her master, rose to go and answer it, but Mr Matthews laid down his napkin and motioned her back on to her stool.
'I will go,' he said, and went slowly to the door, leaving the door from the dining parlour open so that the conversation could be heard.
*
'Mr Matthews?'
'Indeed, sir. What may I do for you?'
'I beg your pardon, sir, but I've orders to quarter myself and four of my troopers in your house. I'm told you have sufficient stabling for their horses?'
'I – this is an imposition, sir! I cannot agree!' Mr Matthews protested.
'Begging your pardon, sir, but 'tis not in your power to refuse. The men must be quartered, and all houses will have to take their share. Indeed, your house seems so large I'd not be surprised if you were not told to take more than five! But it was the Colonel's own orders, and he picked on your house and sent me straight here before you could be bothered with anyone else. He told me to bring four of the most reliable men, and see you and your family were troubled as little as possible. We'll most like be gone in a day or two, sir,' he added persuasively.
Mr Matthews continued to protest, maintaining he had not sufficient room for five extra people.
'No doubt we'll all be a trifle squeezed,' the other replied. 'But if you don't permit us to establish ourselves now, methinks you'll have to take more, and less well-conducted men, later!'
Reluctantly, Mr Matthews saw the sense of this, and indicated that he might step inside.
'The stable yard can be reached from the side. Ben,' he called, beckoning the stable lad from the table, 'come and show them the way and see they know where to put their horses.'
Mistress Matthews had been watching the soldier, and she noticed the way in which he kept averting his eyes from the appetising food spread on the table. Her motherly heart was touched.
'When you've stabled the horses, come and join us at supper,' she offered, 'for I doubt if you're fed properly in camp!'
He laughed, embarrassed.
'It looks good,' he complimented her. 'We don't fare so badly, but we've been on the march since noon, and it looks tempting!'
The five troopers were soon seated at the table, somewhat shy and full of gratitude for the welcome Mistress Matthews had extended to them. The leader and two of the men were in their late thirties, all family men, who spoke longingly of their desire to be done with the fighting and return home to their wives and children. The others were father and son, the latter no more than sixteen, who had no family apart from each other, and were content to be professional soldiers. The father had served in Europe for some years, and the son hoped to go there after they had finished with the rebels, a task all of them considered would be a short one.
After they had eaten their leader, who introduced himself as Sergeant Cox, announced that he must report to the Colonel. The others, after profuse thanks for the hospitality, took themselves off to the two rooms which had been allocated to them, and left the family alone to speculate on this turn of events.
*
All night there was considerable noise and activity in the town, as the Cornish infantry and the cavalry led by Prince Maurice and Lord Hertfort poured into the town, many of the men unable to find accommodation for either themselves or their horses, and having to make the best of bivouacking in the streets. On the following day there was still considerable confusion, with items of news trickling through to the Matthews family who, obeying the advice of the friendly Sergeant Cox, had remained indoors.
They learned from the other troopers, who were content to sit and rest after their exertions, of the carnage at the battle of Lansdown, and the loss of several gallant leaders, amongst them Sir Bevil Grenvile. There was also the later disaster when Lord Hopton had been injured by a wagon of powder exploding near him, rendering him blind so he had been carried to Devizes on a litter, while the cavalry had held off the attacks of Waller's men all the way from Chippenham.
In the afternoon, Drusilla was again sitting by the window, watching the ceaseless activity outside, when her attention was caught by two officers riding past on the far side of the Market Place. The first thing to strike her was the keen attention one of the riders appeared to be paying to her own house, and after a closer scrutiny she rose to her feet in excitement, for it was Sir Randal.
'Oh, he is not dead!' was her first exclamation, and she was about to lean from the window to attract his attention when doubts seized her, and instead she drew back behind the curtains from where she could watch without being seen.
She had recalled she had sent a very definite refusal to him in reply to his own letter, and in her later musings on the affair, she had realised her mention of the insuperable reason, which she could not explain, for that refusal, might have been taken by him to refer to the acc
usations of Jacob Blagrave. She had reasoned that, since Jacob had seen him and told him of the accusations as soon as he had returned to the Crown, and there had been time for James to tell her also before she saw Sir Randal, although in fact she had not known of it until afterwards, Randal could have assumed it was these accusations which caused her refusal. If he thought she believed him to have contrived Elizabeth's murder, he would most certainly not wish to renew his acquaintance with her, apart from the embarrassment consequent upon his reluctant offer of marriage, and the relief he must feel at having been refused. She was nevertheless hurt to think he might believe she accepted the accusations, and although she knew it was impossible, and she still would not tell him the real reason for her refusal, she longed to set him straight on the matter.
So thinking, she watched as he rode slowly along, turning occasionally to reply to a remark of his companion, whom Drusilla belatedly recognised as Prince Rupert.
The two men disappeared from sight as they turned into the road leading to the castle, and Drusilla blinked back her tears. Almost she wished she had not seen Randal, for it revived with fierce intensity her despair at the loss of her love. She knew she could never love any other man, and recoiled in horror at the occasional references by her mother to her marriage.
Mistress Matthews, beginning to realise Drusilla was implacably opposed to Jacob Blagrave, and not accepting her husband's gloomy view that Drusilla had destroyed all hope of a respectable match by her behaviour, had started to think of men who might overlook her former capricious attitude, and be willing to wed a beautiful, as well as amply dowered girl.
Drusilla refused utterly to contemplate any of the suggestions her mother put forward, saying she had no desire or intention of marrying, so between her husband's pessimism and her daughter's lack of interest, Mistress Matthews was deeply distressed, for the prospect of her lovely daughter remaining unwed was to her a matter of disgrace and shame.
Runaway Hill Page 12
