Women of Courage

by Tim Vicary

  She got out of the cart quietly, ignoring the sergeant’s reproachful eyes, and waited, alone amongst the soldiers, until at last Robert came out. He was relaxed and smiling.

  “So, are you ready? I find I have a cousin in Bath, whom you can stay with. I never thought she would be back from London so early, but she is - and her husband has offered to entertain half the officers tonight. We could scarce have come at a better time.”

  It was as though the incident of last night had not happened. They hurried through the bustling streets, Robert pointing out the uniforms of the different regiments they saw, and telling her of their recent exploits. Several times he saluted an officer he knew, and each time Ann felt the man’s eyes linger speculatively on her as they passed.

  They stopped outside a tall, terraced house in a smart area near the centre. Robert knocked gaily on the door, which after a delay was opened by a liveried footman in buckled shoes and a white powdered wig. He had a long, melancholy face whose mouth opened into a weak smile as he saw who it was.

  “Master Robert, sir!”

  “Simeon! How good to see you! I am come with the army, all unannounced and unexpected. Is my cousin at home, or mine host her husband?”

  “Your cousin Marianne is here, Master Robert, but Mr Ashley is in town. However he is expected home shortly.”

  “All the better - it’s the lady I need now. Simeon, this is Mistress Ann Carter, a friend of mine whom I have rescued from the rebels. She is in dire need of hospitality.”

  “I see.” The man’s cadaverous eyebrows rose in a faint expression of surprise as he looked at Ann. “Then I will announce you to Mrs Ashley at once. Perhaps you could wait in here, sir.”

  He showed them into a spacious room with pannelled walls, a window overlooking the street, a large fireplace and two carved wooden chairs, as well as several stools and benches around a table.

  Ann turned on Robert as soon as the footman had gone out. “Robert! What ever made you tell him that? You have not rescued me from anyone!”

  “Have I not? I thought I found you wandering naked in a wood?”

  She blushed, unnerved by his air of ironic self-assurance. “You know why that was.”

  “I know, but I think you will get a much better welcome in this house if we change the story a little. They are my family, after all, and so, I suppose, loyal supporters of the King.”

  “But ... “

  “Robert! What a charming surprise!” The woman who burst into the room and greeted Robert with a rapturous kiss on both cheeks was slightly shorter than Ann, dark and vivacious with curly black hair pulled in ringlets over her head. Her face was soft like a child’s, lightly powdered with a patch on her left cheek, and her rich royal blue satin dress, cut low over a swelling bosom decorated by a string of pearls, proclaimed, if the house and footman had not already made it obvious, how far above Ann she was in worldly possessions.

  “Marianne, this is Mistress Ann Carter from Colyton, whom I have had the good fortune to rescue from the rebels.”

  Ann curtsied, terrified; yet she could not help noticing the similarities in the two faces that watched her as she did so. Marianne’s face had no freckles, and was more lively; but there was the same slightly earnest frown, that in Marianne’s face instantly dissolved into a smile of welcome.

  “Then I don’t know whom to congratulate first - you on choosing such a charming damsel in distress, or Miss Carter in having found such a dashing knight-errant! But you look tired, my dear, and hungry. Have you travelled far? He hasn’t forced you to ride all day, has he?”

  “Yes, my lady. Well, nearly, that is ... “ Ann’s answer was really to the first question, but Marianne’s words bubbled out so fast she could not stop them.

  “How exactly like Robert! He always had to go over just one more hill when I had already told him a dozen times I was wore out. And I suppose it’s even worse when he is in the army - he treats you as one of his troopers, no doubt! Sit down, my dear, sit down, while I ring for some refreshment.”

  Ann sat down nervously on the window-seat, fearing to sully the beautiful tapestry cover with her borrowed blue dress, which was stained with the mud of the past few days. She jumped in surprise as Robert’s cousin pulled a long, green, tasselled rope that hung from the wall beside one of the chairs. She heard nothing, but a moment later the footman reappeared.

  “Cups of chocolate for myself and these poor travelers, Simeon! And some of those honey cakes of Mrs Taylor’s. That’s the one thing we missed in London, Robert - Mrs Taylor’s cooking. You can say what you like about your Whitehall chocolate shops and caffys, none of them could hold a candle to our Mrs Taylor!”

  “I am glad to hear it. Marianne. But I’m afraid I shan’t be able to stay and taste them if I am to come to see you this evening. For I have to see my men are safely billeted and the supplies disposed of as they should be ... “

  “But you have only just come! You can’t be in and out like this!”

  “My dear Marianne, we are at war, you know.” He put his hands on her shoulders and looked down at her like an affectionate elder brother, though really she was older than him. “I will come again to your party this evening, but really I have only come now to introduce poor Ann, and beg you to find her a room for the night and perhaps lend her some clothes, so that I may make all Lord Feversham’s officers jealous of me.”

  “Clothes? Well, I don’t know, she is a little larger than me ... but I am sure I can find something.”

  Ann felt the little woman’s eyes on her rather harder now, appraising more than just her size, and the mudstained, threadbare blue dress she had got from the innkeeper’s wife. She remembered the eyes of the passers-by in the street.

  “So you are acting more than the gallant rescuer, Rob, are you? Well... “

  “No, Marianne.” Robert hesitated, a little embarrassed. “Ann and I are old acquaintances, true, but she needs a room for the night out of pure charity. She has already seen more than enough of our soldiers. And you can hardly have her under your roof and refuse her your table, now, can you, Marianne? So where is the harm in making a little stir while we are about it?”

  “None in the world.” Marianne’s eyes sparkled with sceptical amusement at Robert’s embarrassment. But the face she turned to Ann was quite friendly, as though they were all part of a delightful conspiracy. “A room you shall have, my dear, and better clothes as well. Now begone, Robert, back to your soldier’s games. Ann and I will have a little talk over our chocolate, and then see what we can do. When you come back you will scarce recognise her.”

  “I ... I only need simple clothes, Mrs Ashley. A clean dress, perhaps, that is all.” Ann had almost felt afraid to speak, when her fate was being decided so capably without her; but now Robert had gone, she felt she had to say something. And she had the uneasy feeling that things might go further than she intended.

  “Don’t worry, my dear, I know just the thing.” Marianne stopped talking and sat down on the window seat beside her. Ann felt herself blushing under the friendly, conspiratorial gaze, and looked down awkwardly, not knowing what to say.

  “So my cousin Robert has found a wild country rose, has he? It seems not all the excitement is in London, after all. Tell me about your dramatic rescue, my dear.”

  Ann’s blush deepened. How absurd she had been, to think Robert might want to marry her The whole situation was hopelessly false. She had only the haziest idea of how to behave in a house like this; and surely that must be apparent to everyone. If she was welcome here, in this lady’s house, it was clearly not as a prospective bride. She was just a plaything in Marianne and Robert’s game. Surely she should break out of it, smash their silly games with the truth. But then, if she told the whole truth she would only embarrass him, and perhaps end up outside, alone on the street or with the soldiers again.

  She was saved by Simeon bringing in a tray with the cups of chocolate and a plate of the honey cakes which he set on a little table near them. Wh
en he left she had recovered herself and decided. What did the truth matter to Marianne? She was not interested in Ann for herself, but only in the game, as Robert was. Perhaps they were not the only ones who could play games.

  “I was caught by soldiers, Mrs Ashley. I was out with three friends in a wood, when they came and … and caught us. It was horrible!” She covered her confusion in tears, not all of which were feigned. Marianne Ashley cooed in sympathy, and offered her a scented handkerchief.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs Ashley, I shouldn’t weep. But I’d rather not talk about that, if you don’t mind. Anyway, afterwards I was alone in the wood, and Robert came along with his troopers and found me.”

  “But why did he bring you with him to Bath? Surely your family must be anxious to know where you are?”

  “I ... yes, I am sure they are, Mrs Ashley. But … Lord Churchill could not spare any men to take me home, and Robert would not let me travel the roads alone, in case I should be attacked again.” It was the second lie: she was committed to this story now. But the tale seemed to appeal to Marianne. She smiled ironically, clearly finding it more exciting and amusing than sad. Ann noticed the artificial patch on her left cheek, and wondered how it stayed on.

  “How very thoughtful! So he found a poor country maid and took her under his wing! My young cousin seems to be profiting by this rebellion. Tell me. Miss Carter, what do you think of him?”

  “He is very kind, Mrs Ashley.”

  “Indeed. But I mean, as a man, girl. Do you find my cousin handsome, for example? It is always hard for me to tell, being his cousin.”

  Ann felt herself blushing again, and looked down at her hands awkwardly, exaggerating her innocence as she had once done with her father. “I ... don’t know.”

  But Marianne was not so easily put off. “Don’t you find his freckles rather spoil his face? And he always looks so solemn, I think. I prefer a man to more open in the face, more merry. Like Lord Churchill, for example. You wouldn’t say Robert is as handsome as him?”

  “No, I suppose not. I’m not sure. I had not thought of it.” In truth she hadn’t. She felt a fierce protective jealousy as Marianne spoke. She had never thought to compare Robert to other men like this, as though he were a portrait in a picture gallery. She loved his face because it was how he was, it was part of him. To think of him in this way seemed to make him into a thing, a picture on a wall rather than a person. “I had never thought of him like that.”

  Marianne’s laughter bubbled over. “Oh, but you must! How serious you are - you are just like him! This is how men think of us, you know - surely we should be allowed to think of them in the same way?”

  “Perhaps. But ‘tis vanity to think just of that. The face is the window of the soul.”

  Marianne raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Oh ho! So you are a Puritan too! You are not one these canting fanatics who meet in conventicles and the like, are you? But surely not, or you would have been safe with Monmouth’s troops.”

  “My family go to church every Sunday, Mrs Ashley.” Ann kept her voice level, realising the mistake she had made. It was strange how half the truth could be a lie. The seriousness of her gaze seemed to convince her hostess.

  “And so you should. But you are not one who sees a little powder and paint as the invention of the devil, are you, instead of as an adornment to this window you speak of?”

  Ann smiled at the obviousness of the question. “No, I have never thought that. Though I have not had much opportunity to try them.”

  “Then perhaps it is time you did. Finish your chocolate, girl, and then we will see what we can find to help you to make my cousin the envy of his colleagues tonight. It is the least you can do to repay him for his rescue.”

  28

  IT WAS nearly two hours later that Ann descended the stairs again to meet Robert and the other officers. She was at once terrified and absurdly, ridiculously proud. The butterflies in her stomach were held in tightly by a corset that gripped her waist and forced her breasts up and together over the low decolletage that left half her shoulders bare. Her mother, she knew, would have fainted to see her like this. But Ann was in a dream - the dream she had had when she imagined leaving home and going with Robert to London. She knew it was only a dream, but for the moment there was no escaping it, so she might as well do it with show.

  As Marianne said, somehow the light dusting of scented powder over her breasts and neck made them feel a little more clothed, as something she was wearing rather than a naked part of her. The powder on her face, and the little beauty patch on her cheek, made her feel as though the face were not her own, but a beautiful mask behind which she could hide. She knew now that what her mother had said was true; if the face was the window of the soul, then powder was a disguise, a curtain, rather than an ornament. The irony was that the sense of disguise helped the very Puritan part of her soul which disapproved of all this. She, the real Ann, could hide behind the performance and powder and scent, and meet the officers who were the enemies of God and her family, without herself being seen.

  But for the moment this part of her was in abeyance; she was in too much of a trance of joy and nervousness. The long russet dress matched her auburn hair, which hung in carefully combed curls around her face; her hands, coming delicately out of the broad, white-slashed sleeves, held out the wide skirts of her dress, which the bustle spread out voluminously from around her narrow, pointed waist. The dress and underclothes had been relatively easy to adjust; the main problem had been to find her shoes, but in the end Marianne had managed to borrow a pair from a neighbour. They were a little too tight, but then no-one could see them under the dress, and Ann thought she might be able to kick them half-off if she were sitting down.

  Marianne had come upstairs to fetch her, and they descended the stairs together. There was already a murmur of conversation from the main room, and at the foot of the stairs three men turned to look at them. One was Lord Churchill; another, a short, cheery man in a green coat and yellow waistcoat, was Marianne’s husband; the third was a tall, well-built man of about fifty, in a rich blue coat and fawn waistcoat. Ann looked at him curiously, and instantly felt respect for the strong, commanding, rather harrassed-looking face framed by the immaculately curled full- bottomed wig.

  Marianne’s husband was the first to see them.

  “So-ho! This is the surprise you have been keeping from us for so long, my dear!” His eager, jovial eyes appraised Ann with frank delight. “Am I to be presented to my own guest?”

  “Of course. Gentlemen, this is Mistress Ann Carter, a refugee from the Duke of Monmouth’s army, whom my cousin has bravely rescued for us.”

  All three men bowed, and Ann curtsied in return, glad of the powder to hide her blushes. She glanced anxiously at John Churchill, afraid that he would tear aside her pretence and tell her true story; but he merely smiled ironically back at her, and she sighed with relief. Perhaps Robert had told him she was to be here tonight. If there were a conspiracy to make her part of these people, at least it was thorough.

  Marianne was presenting the men to her.

  “This old rake is my husband, as you may have guessed; Lord Churchill you know; and this distinguished gentleman here is Monsieur Louis Duras, the Earl of Feversham, the saviour of Bath, and commander-in-chief of his Majesty’s army. It is a great honour to have you in our house, my lord.”

  Lord Feversham bowed. “It is a great pleasure to come, madame. We need such a relaxation after a ‘ard day in ze field.”

  Ann was surprised at the heavy, charming French accent; she had never heard one before, and found it hard at first to understand what he said. But as she watched him throughout the evening she saw how perfectly it fitted him, like the fine manners and clothes that made him somehow more of an aristocrat than any of the Englishmen around him.

  “And you ‘ave ‘ad a dangerous escape from our enemies, I hear, mademoiselle. I trust you ‘ave not been ‘armed?” His eyes crinkled as he smiled, with almost fatherly c
oncern. She wondered what he would have said if he had known the truth.

  “No, thank you my lord. Robert - Captain Pole - rescued me in time.”

  “I am glad to ‘ave such gallant gentlemen in my army. I trust we will be able to take our revenge upon your enemies before too long.”

  “Yes, my lord. You are very kind.” She could not bring herself, even now, to speak words that wished destruction upon her father’s army, even in a lie; she had an awful fear that if she did so, especially in front of this man, the commander of the King’s armies, it might come true just because she had said it. But Lord Feversham was satisfied; his words were mere politeness.

  “How soon do you think it will be, my lord? Surely it cannot be long, now that you have them in retreat?” Marianne’s husband asked, his short, round figure oddly self-important beside his aristocratic guest.

  “A few days only, I hope, now zat we ‘ave our full forces gathered. But we ‘ave yet to bring zem to bay. If zey dare to stand to face us, at all, of course.”

  “As they failed to do at Bristol, I hear. ‘Twas a gallant action indeed, my lord, to save the city with so few against so many.”

  “Merci, monsieur, you are most kind.” Lord Feversham bowed with a rather stiff good-humour. “But of course, it is normal for a small force of regulars to defeat large numbers of rebels, as my Lord Monmouth could tell us from his own experience in Scotland. And our Lord is usually smiling on men who show resolution, rather than those who ‘esitate.”

  Ann shivered at his words, so that Marianne glanced at her anxiously for a moment. Then Marianne’s face relaxed into a knowing smile as Robert came into the hall. His eyes widened as he saw Ann, and he hurried to be near her.