Circle of Pearls

by Rosalind Laker

  ‘I’ll contact him there,’ Makepeace replied, dismissing her with an arrogant flick of the hand. He had hoped to consult Adam at home where he could be sure of no interruption, a kind of testing the water as to his position as a regicide in the growing hostility towards those forty-one men who had signed the royal death warrant. Adam was now a Member of Parliament, having won a seat in the first free election for many years that had resulted in Royalists’ openly gaining seats, the ban lifted from them at last — results Makepeace could only see as the writing on the wall for himself.

  He laid the blame for these new political developments at the feet of a Roundhead general under whom he had served in Scotland during the Civil War. Since that time General Monck, who was in his fifties, had been keeping the Scots down with his army, first for Oliver Cromwell and then for Richard, but a few weeks ago, with England practically leaderless, he had marched ten thousand men into London, demanding long overdue pay for them, and had forced Parliament to raise all bans against those long denied the right to sit at Westminster. It had inflamed many things and led to a wave of talk of restoring the monarchy.

  Effigies of Charles Stuart had been displayed crowned with flowers in London streets where shouts for the King were said to be heard on all sides. Some places of entertainment had been reopening over past months, including two or three theatres and — most shocking of all to Makepeace — women had been seen on the stage for the first time. He took consolation from the resolve of leading Puritans to check this decadent slide and to ensure that the King should be hamstrung with political conditions if his return did take place. What worried Makepeace most was the general assumption that vengeance would be allowed against the regicides as a concession to Charles, who had never forgiven the execution of his father.

  That was why Makepeace knew himself to be in need of Adam’s support, both politically and as a future son-in-law. Surely someone who was almost one of the family should do everything in his power to help the stepfather of the girl he was to marry? Makepeace intended to remind Adam strongly of that obligation and of the number of times he had fought beside the late Colonel Warrender. In fact, he did not dare let another day go by without seeing Adam, even though it now meant a journey to London that he would have liked to avoid at the present time.

  Julia watched him depart from a window in the Queen’s Parlour. ‘There he goes,’ she said to Mary, who had brought Patience downstairs after waiting to hear the door close after him.

  ‘I wish he’d never come back,’ Mary sighed, ‘It’s like playing cat-and-mouse all day long. Even when I take our darling into the park we have to scuttle away behind a hedge when he appears.’ She lowered her head and smiled devotedly into the face of the nine-month-old baby sitting on her lap. ‘Don’t we, my sweeting?’

  Patience showed her dimples and shook the rattle she held, one that had been Michael’s. She was a happy and healthy child with her mother’s dark hair, which was as curly as Julia’s. The only likeness to Makepeace was in the roundness of her grey eyes, but whereas his were an ill feature, hers gave a charming quaintness to her bonny face.

  Julia leaned back against the window ledge, gazing at the two of them. The only shadow hanging over the prospect of the King’s return was that Mary would have to leave Sotherleigh before Michael and his wife came home. There was no question of her staying under the same roof. At least it was certain that if Makepeace should find himself in dire trouble as a regicide, he would not want to take Anne with him wherever he went and Patience would be a burden to him. The only danger was that he might decide to make those heartless arrangements he had planned for his daughter’s future before he left and that had to be guarded against, for nobody could deny his rights as a father to do with his offspring as he willed.

  Julia missed Adam when he was not in the neighbourhood. He was fun to be with and they continued to send sparks off each other when they clashed. It was as if one of them was forever trying to dominate the other, refusing to admit that they could balance any scales should it be possible to weigh them in character and willpower. She had been torn when he had been successful in following his grandfather’s footsteps into the new Parliament, pleased for him on a personal level while up in arms that a voice against the King should win a way to power.

  When Makepeace arrived in London he was astounded to see how much Cavalier finery had reappeared on the streets, frills and bows in abundance and colourful plumes flowing from the hats of both men and women. It happened to be the first day of May and on the way to the city he had passed celebrations of the old May Day that had previously been suppressed. He had shouted his outrage and shaken his fist at such wickedness, but the villagers had jeered back at him from their maypoles. There must have been such a move towards a Restoration that people were starting to imagine it had already come.

  He hastened to Westminster to discover that it had indeed come and less than an hour earlier. The Members of Parliament, coming from the House of Commons where a momentous decision had been taken, found many waiting to hear the tidings and Westminster Hall was crowded. From a gentleman he knew Makepeace received the bad news that the Speaker of the House had read out to Members a formal letter from King Charles II — here Makepeace shuddered at hearing this statement of recognized status — in which he expressed his wish to see all future parliaments of England preserved by the monarchy and vice versa. He had called upon the wise and dispassionate Members to raise up all that had been cast down, to avenge and redeem a certain guilt and infamy, which was a reference to his father’s execution, and to know that all he himself had suffered in exile would be turned into Christian consideration and betterment for his subjects. Makepeace heard in that letter the unmistakable voice of doom for himself and the rest of the regicides.

  ‘There was also a Royal Declaration from the King,’ his informant told him. ‘It was sent from Breda where he is now waiting.’ He continued with a full account of all that Charles was going to do in the future, which included, through an act of Parliament, a pardon for all men of conscience who appealed for his grace and favour — a generous action for the country as a whole, but again leaving out the murderers of his father. Finally this man described how, when the Speaker had finished reading, a resolution was passed amidst scenes of great rejoicing to request the King to return to his people.

  Sickened, Makepeace turned away and happened to sight George Monck in the crowded Westminster Hall. He pushed through, not caring whom he shoved out of his way, to reach his old comrade.

  ‘This is your doing,’ he roared furiously, shaking his fist in Monck’s distinguished face.

  ‘I thank God if it is,’ General Monck replied, giving Makepeace a look that told him how much he was despised. The General himself had had no part in any way with that notorious death warrant that Makepeace had signed. ‘I have been in secret correspondence with the King ever since I saw there was no other way to bring unity and stability to this nation again. In view of our past comradeship in arms, I give you a piece of sound advice, Walker. Leave England! Or else when the King has come home on his birthday at the end of this month I’ll be seeing your head on a spike at Tower Bridge!’

  He moved on and Makepeace stood stunned in the milling throng of several hundred people. There was nothing Adam or anyone else could do for him now. He would have to heed Monck’s warning and get out of the country to save his neck. At least he had about three weeks before the King set foot on English soil again.

  He went slowly past the spot where Charles I had accepted his death sentence. As people pushed past him to get into that great hammer-beamed medieval hall he paid no attention to the impatient thrusts. The irony for him was that after all that had happened, the King was being allowed to come home without a single condition imposed upon him. Instead it was Charles himself who had declared what he would do and announced the improved path of monarchy that he intended to tread. But kings were only men with weaknesses like everyone else and he should have been given a
cast-iron set of rules to clamp on his head with his crown.

  Outside in the streets people were dancing. Taverns were doing a roaring trade. Men were even drinking toasts to the King on their knees. Makepeace’s stomach turned.

  At Sotherleigh Julia realized the long-awaited time had come when at dusk a chain of bonfires began to appear on the Downs, taking up the signal of one beginning to flare high in the village. She rushed outside and stood listening. In the quiet evening a breeze brought the distant sound of the villagers cheering, Royalists and Puritans alike rejoicing in the hope of a return to tolerance and freedom and the stability of the nation. Tears of joy filled her eyes. It had finally happened. In this never to be forgotten year of 1660 the eve of the Restoration was here at last!

  She darted back indoors and ran straight to Katherine’s apartment. She found that her grandmother, seeing the glow on the Downs, had somehow struggled out of her chair and crossed to the window, which she had opened.

  ‘So it has come, Julia,’ she said emotionally, still gazing out.

  Julia went to put an arm about her and together they saw yet another bonfire flare on the crest of a more distant hill. The message was spreading fast. ‘Yes! God bless King Charles II!’

  ‘Amen to that. Michael will soon be home again.’

  ‘He will, Grandmother.’

  Katherine turned stiffly, leaning on Julia for support. ‘Fetch your mother here and Mary and little Patience. Don’t forget Sarah. We’ll drink a toast to the King.’

  Anne came carrying Patience, who was warm and towel-wrapped from her bath, damp curls still to be properly dried. Mary was with them and Sarah followed behind. While Julia poured the wine Anne gave the baby a tiny piece of sweetmeat that made her dribble deliciously. Katherine insisted on rising to her feet to propose the toast.

  ‘The King!’

  It was echoed by the little gathering. Anne thought they were toasting Charles I and was perfectly content. She was sure Robert would be home soon.

  Katherine retired to bed shortly afterwards, completely exhausted by all the excitement. Julia sat at her bedside for a short while and they talked of all the happier times to come. Then when Julia kissed her good night on the brow, Katherine caught her granddaughter’s hand in her own.

  ‘This is the day I’ve been waiting for.’ Her voice was very weak, but full of calm. ‘If I should not be here when Michael returns, I want you to remember that. Now, no sentimental protests!’ She released her clasp. ‘Good night to you, dearest girl.’

  That night Julia’s dream, which she had almost forgotten, returned with a force that threw her into wakefulness, crying out. Then she knew what was happening and rushed to her grandmother’s bedchamber, her nightgown billowing, her bare feet racing. But she was just too late. Katherine had slipped away from Sotherleigh in her sleep.

  *

  Makepeace went quietly about making his own preparation for flight in his usual methodical manner. He paid scant attention to the funeral or those who came to it, not attending himself, although he did greet the notable Mr Wren and his sister Mrs Holder, who stayed for a couple of days. Adam, still in London and probably in ignorance of what had happened to Julia’s grandmother, was not there. Makepeace considered himself magnanimous in letting Julia have the use of the long room with the slotted wall to receive mourners and have dinner served to them after the burial, but he kept both sets of doors in the Great Hall closed to make them use another way and not come through it. He was still master at Sotherleigh until he left and he intended to maintain his status until the last minute.

  When Christopher and Susan left Sotherleigh, sitting side by side in the Holder coach the morning after the funeral, she was very thoughtful. Finally she broached a rather sensitive subject.

  ‘Through the difference in our ages, Christopher,’ she began, ‘I’ve been more of a mother to you than a sister, and therefore I hope you will take what I have to say about Julia in good part.’

  He was in a serious mood, looking out at the Sussex countryside as the gates of Sotherleigh were left behind. Mistress Katherine would be sadly missed. Anne’s grief, in spite of her confused state, had made it a particularly poignant visit. He turned towards Susan, who had her plump pigeon look about her, a troubled expression on her good-natured face.

  ‘Speak on,’ he said in his amiable way. ‘What is it you want to say?’

  ‘What are your feelings for Julia?’

  ‘That is easily answered. I’m extremely fond of her. She’s an enchanting girl and our friendship goes back to my schooldays and her babyhood. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Do you intend to marry her?’

  He smiled a little crookedly. ‘She’ll be wed long before I can think of marriage. I would never expect any woman to wait until I’ve accomplished even a portion of what lies ahead of me.’

  ‘But you’re doing precisely that!’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Keeping the girl dangling. She adores you. I saw her face when we arrived. It blossomed like a rose and she flung herself into your arms.’

  ‘I’ve explained the situation. She has always shared her joys and griefs with me.’

  ‘Do you never kiss her?’

  He laughed. ‘Really, Susan. There are limits to what even a maternal sibling may ask.’

  ‘So you do.’ She sighed heavily and let her linked hands rise and fall in her lap. ‘Now I must be blunt. I have seen enough of the intelligentsia in my time to know there is a certain category of men — brilliantly clever in their own field of study — who are blind as bats when it comes to dealing with women.’

  ‘Am I to assume you have placed me in that group?’

  ‘You most certainly are. William is another, but I’m not speaking of him now. You like pretty women paying you attention — and what man doesn’t! If that were all with Julia it would be harmless, but she has deep feelings and she is in love with you. And all the time that state of affairs continues, she’s never going to look at any other man. Do you want to be responsible for her losing all chances of finding happiness with someone else?’

  ‘You’re exaggerating.’

  ‘Not at all. When she was at Bletchingdon several young men spoke to William and asked their chances, but even though he had to tell them she was already promised, it was obvious to me none of them interested her in the least, except in the pleasure of flirting. It was always you she was waiting to see, although I admit she did not reveal to what extent until this time when her emotional state let her heart show through.’

  ‘You misjudged what you saw.’

  She noticed the stubborn set of his jaw and tried another tack. ‘I thought you would come home from Oxford less often after I told you that Mr Walker had betrothed her to Adam Warrender. Did I not say he was a fierce young man, not altogether predictable, but that I believed his love for her to be genuine?’

  ‘You did,’ he commented dryly. ‘I see now that was a broad hint to me that I failed to take. When I asked Julia about it at Bletchingdon she said the settlement was not worth the paper on which it was written. Neither is it now, because anything a regicide has ordered or negotiated will be null and void.’

  ‘All the more reason for you to propose to Julia or end her hopes of marrying you once and for all.’

  He turned his head and looked out at the passing hedgerows and flower-flecked meadows for a considerable time before he spoke again. Then she could scarcely bear the starkness of his expression. ‘You have made me see my own folly. My work is my lodestar. I have to follow it.’

  She felt no sense of triumph at what she had achieved, only sadness at what she had had to do. She understood more than anyone why his work must always come first. His lungs continued to trouble him periodically and he did not know how much time was left to him in which to gain the knowledge and skills that the genius in him was perpetually seeking.

  *

  Makepeace was keenly aware that nobody called to see him during his last days at Sotherl
eigh. His neighbours were conspicuous by their absence. There were no invitations, no gentlemen coming to chat or take a chance meal or glass of wine with him. He ate alone at all times. Such ostracism was a help in making him more than ready to leave Sotherleigh and start another life in the New World where his long-held business interests would be an asset to him. By being on the spot he could build them up as he had never been able to do from a distance, trusting to a representative there. By good fortune Captain Crowhurst’s ship was due in the Port of London any day, having called at several West Country ports during the last month, and he had sent a message for a berth to be reserved for him when the vessel sailed. He had been given to understand this would be on the day the King would set foot on English soil again after an exile of almost ten years. Makepeace wondered if he would be the only passenger anxious to be clear of England by that date!

  There was no question of Patience going with him. She would have a home at Sotherleigh until she was of an age to marry, probably in her twelfth year, when he would be legally within his rights to send for her. Installed in his American household she would be there in readiness to look after him in his old age.

  He was planning to leave the next day and had just finished his supper when the maidservant, Charity, who was his bedmate, came to him where he sat in the Queen’s Parlour. It was not by choice that his lusts demanded the constant presence of a woman in his bed, but he had only to remind himself that women were soulless creatures put on earth to be subject to men and that set his mind at rest. Therefore, according to his logic, it was only adultery if another man’s wife was involved, and he had kept himself free of that unforgivable sin. In no way had this young woman threatened Anne’s status as his wife, any more than those in the past had threatened his previous marriages. They had needed the one virtue of knowing how to be discreet, aided by a deep threat of what the consequences would be if they failed him, and thus he had kept his sexual life orderly whenever his marriage partner had been indisposed.