by Amy Wolf
Ned pursued his suit well into winter. As rain battered the Whale’s windows, I found my defenses crumbling. What was I waiting for, really? A miracle from Above? By the time spring came with its renewal of crops and life, I decided to put into motion a plan I had long formed.
“Sally,” I said one night, after Ned had departed, “I require you to oversee things tomorrow. I have some errands in town.”
“Of course, mistress!” she said. “It would be my pleasure!”
“You are a good girl,” I told her with affection.
I actually rode sidesaddle all the way to London on one of the Whale’s nags. How Megs would have railed! Once arrived in the city, though all had been rebuilt, I found my way exactly. Dismounting and smoothing my skirts, I looked to the house next door, under whose old jetty . . .
“Yes?”
A still pretty woman answered my knock, her attire much finer than in the days before the fire.
“I-I am here to see Captain Jeffries,” I said. I noticed that my hands shook. “If-if he indeed be here.”
“And who shall I say is calling?” Moll asked with a hint of frostiness.
“Please tell him it’s Margaret Tanner.”
“Very well.”
As her tone became more chill, one thing was apparent: she was none too pleased to see me.
“Charles,” she called, “some woman is here for you.”
She led me into the sitting room where I had passed so many nights.
“How may I be of assis—?” a deep voice asked, until its owner caught a glimpse of my face.
“Margaret!” he cried, running forward to catch me in his arms. “I cannot tell you how good it is to see you!”
“Captain Jeffries,” I whispered, “does this mean I am forgiven?”
“Indeed,” he said softly. “Over the past three years, I have had much time to reflect. I feel I was wrong to blame you, for you were very young. Rather, it is Aventis who was in the wrong.”
Though I thought this unfair to the count, I mouthed a heartfelt “Thank you” as I closed my eyes and flung my arms around Jeffries.
“Hmmp,” said Moll, folding her arms over her skirt. “Charles, is there something you wish to tell me?”
Jeffries opened his mouth to speak, but I intervened.
“Moll, the last time we met, you knew me as Megs, the highwayman.”
She looked uncomprehending.
“I know it is difficult to grasp,” I said. “In any case, rest assured I have no designs on the captain.”
“That is well,” she replied, “for we are man and wife.”
“Many good wishes!” I cried, stepping forward to squeeze her arm. “I always hoped for this outcome!”
“Thank you,” she said, now blushing. “But where are my manners? Please, sit down. I shall fetch us some tea.”
The captain and I remained standing in the center of the room. He had to wipe his eyes, for he had not seen me like this since nine years past.
“You look quite fetching,” he finally said, and motioned me to a chair. “Though I confess I rather miss Megs.”
“As do I,” I said, tucking in my skirts as I sat. “Being Margaret has its benefits but it tends to be somewhat dull.”
“Yes,” Jeffries whispered, glancing about the room. “Naturally, I love Moll, but when I think of my days on the road . . . “
“Galloping over the Heath,” I said, “in search of some easy pickings—”
“—never knowing who you’ll meet,” he finished, “the Duke of Monmouth or a poet!”
“And all with the friends you love best in the world.”
We both sat there in silence, lost in our old trade’s romance.
At last, Jeffries spoke.
“But that is the past,” he said. “At present, I would not trade Moll for a hundred guineas. Well, make that two-hundred.”
I laughed.
“You sound like Carnatus,” I said.
The ghosts of our lost two friends lingered in the corners of the room. Now I must find the courage to ask the question I’d come for.
“Captain Jeffries,” I said, “what became of the others? Have they approached you?”
He shook his head with sadness.
“Alas, no,” he said.
I looked away toward that table where we had divided our guineas. I was thrilled to see Jeffries, of course, but without the rest of our company, we lacked our brain and heart. Still, I would not show him my disappointment.
“Since you no longer take to the road,” I asked, “how do you spend your time?”
“I attend the races at Newmarket,” he said, “but otherwise, try to refrain from being seen.”
“That is wise,” I said.
I would never forget the tug of that Tyburn noose.
“And yourself?” Jeffries asked.
“Well, suffice it to say that the Whale swims again.”
“Huzzah!” cried Jeffries.
“Did you not know where I was?” I asked. My hurt tone must have stung him.
“I did,” he said. “After Islington, I was not sure if I was welcome.”
“Captain, how can you say that?” I cried. “For you and Mrs. Jeffries, food, drink, and lodging are always on the house!”
Moll smiled as she returned with our tea.
“Moll, my love,” said the captain, “surely you know you cannot serve tea to a tapster! Only fine wine will do.”
He rose and from a cabinet, retrieved his own private bottle and poured three generous glasses.
“To Megs!” he toasted.
We lifted our glasses high.
“To Captain Jeffries! May he ride again!”
Though Moll gave me a strange look, I desperately clung to this hope.
Plotters
One could say that Versailles was a mirror image of Whitehall.
To me, Richard Cromwell, son of the sainted Oliver, they were both plunged in licentiousness and the worst kind of vice. Both kings keeping mistresses openly! Bestowing titles upon such women and their bastard progeny! As for that reprobate Phillipe, the Duke of Orleans: he was guilty of a crime decried in our holy scriptures, one so truly terrible I cannot speak its name! I find both courts wholly devoid of religion, for they are given over to the hollow things of this world: expensive manicured gardens, great palaces wrought of marble, and enough gold to forge a second idolatrous Calf!
Dear Jesus, I pray: let me not be ensnared by the grave sinners who surround me—let me not be tempted by whores displaying their flesh or unnatural feminine men!
Yet, after my long years of exile, Louis XIV and Versailles can hardly shock me. Was it not the Prince of Conti who remarked once while we dined:
"Well, that Oliver, tho' he was a traitor and a villain, was a brave man, had great parts, great courage, and was worthy to command; but that Richard, that coxcomb and poltroon, was surely the basest fellow alive; what is become of that fool?"
To be sure, back in England they mock me as “Queen Dick” and “Tumbledown Dick.” But they should quiver in fear, for though Charles sits snug on the throne, so once did his father, who, with fire from Heaven, my own father brought low. Oh, for those blessed days when the Saints ruled Parliament and my father laid down God’s law like a second Moses! If I have any abilities—any quickness of mind, physical courage, and sinless men to support me, then in due time—Good willing, shortly!—another Cromwell shall rule.
I attempted to calm myself as two former ministers, William Smith and Joseph Hyde, entered my infidel’s chamber. Oh, the decadence! What with its gross works of “art,” pure walnut table, and canopied bed which had no doubt hosted rank seducers of men!
“Gentlemen,” I said, “come in. Welcome to the den of the beast.”
“God preserve us,” said Hyde, looking around in fright. “We are in the very belly of the Papists!”
“That would be Rome,” sober Smith corrected.
Like me, they were both properly dressed not in
costumes fit for a harlot but in somber black.
“I trust you arrived here without incident?” I asked.
“Though the canal crossing was rough, God saw us through.”
“Very good.” I motioned for both to join me at table. “And your intelligence—has it proved correct?”
“Yes, sir,” said Hyde. “I have it on faith from my man in Whitehall. Who would have guessed that after all these years, this Charles seeks to lose his head?”
We all laughed merrily. As Puritans, we were not joyless—not when it came to crushing our enemies.
“If your man speaks true,” said Smith, “the Protectorate will live again.”
“Yes,” I smiled. “I swear I will make those Stuarts regret defiling my father’s corpse and exhibiting his head on the Bridge!”
We all leaned over the table.
“This ‘king’ and all his court deserve to cleansed by fire!” Smith said.
“Bah! Let’s leave that to the Catholics,” said Hyde.
Smith looked uneasy.
“Talk of revenge is all very good,” he said, “but how to enact our plan? Anti-Papists are two a penny back home, but not one will give us credence unless we can provide proof.”
I smiled, for I knew how. After forty-three years of life—nine of them in exile—I had at last learned patience.
“We must not act,” I said, “until the thing is signed. The key to all is Charles’s sister, married to that hateful Phillipe. My spies relay she has played the role of ambassador—from her brother to Louis.”
“What qualifies her?” asked Hyde. He must have been thinking of his own tenure at Westminster. “A mere frivolous woman, and a mistress of Louis’s to boot!”’
“She is distasteful, I grant you,” I said, “but cannot be avoided. We must follow her every movements, and, when the time is right, seize from her hands that which alters the world.”
“Excellent,” said Smith.
“Very well,” said Hyde.
Having reached solidarity, I reached for a gold jug of wine and poured three hardy glasses.
“To us!” I toasted. “We shall claim England for our sect. And if that fails, there are still the thirteen colonies!”
Two Proposals
Ned persisted in being so good to me that my opinion of him soared. After I’d learned from Jeffries that Aventis had left us as if he’d died of the plague, I must say my feelings for his rival began to thaw.
“I see a change in you, Ms Margaret,” Ned told me one evening. “You don’t appear so melancholy and you smile more often.”
“If I do,” I said, passing a cloth over his table, “it is in no small part thanks to you.”
“Ahh,” he said, putting down his bottle. “Am I then led to believe you have let go of your first love?”
He might as well have asked if I had let go of my soul. Yet, contemplating a lifetime of loneliness, I stared down at his head: he was decent, he was upright, and would not make me his servant. I could continue to run the Whale while he worked his farm.
“Miss Margaret,” said Ned, looking around to ensure we were alone. “I have known you these four years past. I have treasured your temper and your devotion to work. I have not asked outright, but now I must: would you become my wife?”
I sighed—perhaps too loudly. Yet, I was sorely inclined to say ‘yes.’
“Please give me until the morrow,” I told him. “This is a solemn decision affecting the rest of one’s life and should not be made in haste.”
“Of course,” he said, trying not to look downcast. “I shall stop in tomorrow night at my usual time. You can deliver your answer then.”
“Thank you,” I said, as he pressed my hand. Unlike Aventis’s touch, it did not send sparks through me. Still, Aventis was gone and Ned was right here.
“Goodnight,” he bade me, before heading for the front door. He turned to me one last time. “I shall be waiting,” he said.
I waved.
What have I done? I groaned. Ned was a nice man—in truth, too nice for me. If he knew what I’d been doing before he met me—even my true temper—he would have run as far as Essex and never looked back.
Did I deserve him? I thought. What’s more, did he deserve me? An outlaw, a woman who dressed as a man, every penny sunk into the Whale earned from highway robbery! Would I be selfish in accepting him, or more so in refusing? In truth, my head spun, and I had a hard time of it just to ascend the stairs.
Despite the events of the evening, I tried to adhere to my nightly ritual: I let down my hair and combed it; dashed water on my face and neck. But I was so agitated that when I peeled off my clothes, I did not reach for my nightshirt, rolling into bed in my shift. After snuffing out a candle, I drew my bedclothes around me, for though it was May the air bore a hint of cold.
Let me sleep, I thought. Relieve me from this turmoil. Instead, when I closed my eyes, I dreamed of Aventis.
He came to me alone as he did every night, his long hair and cloak waving in the wind as he outstretched a glove toward me.
“Margaret!” he called, “I am here; do not forget me!”
“No!” I cried, and I think it was aloud. He strode over a dream landscape that oddly had no ground, bundling me to his arms and taking my head in his hands.
“Aventis,” I whispered.
As he bent me back, his lips touched mine.
“I shall never leave you!” I called.
“Good. Those are the words I need to hear.”
“Aventis?” I mumbled sleepily.
“Close, but not quite.”
As my eyes sprang open, I saw a man bending over me. At first, I reached for my pistol on the table beside me, but then, as my eyes adjusted to the dark, I saw who it was.
“Captain Jeffries?” I asked.
“Shhh,” he cautioned, putting a gloved hand to his lips. He then crossed his arms while gazing down at me fondly. “I still can’t quite believe you once passed as a man.”
“Captain,” I said, “may I ask how you came to be here? Did you fly through the window?”
“Climbed,” he said, pointing to a pane which flapped open. “Who do you think taught Carnatus how to swing a rope?”
I chuckled. “Captain, though I know you strive to be bold, why not simply walk through the front door? Why sneak into my bedroom like a . . . ” I thought. “Well, like a thief?”
“Margaret, your mind is not dull. Why do you think?”
I blinked the sleep from my eyes.
“You do not wish to be detected?”
“Brava!” he said. “Now it is your turn to ask why.”
“Very well, sir,” I shrugged. After my rude awakening, I was in no mood to quarrel. “What brings you here in stealth?”
He knelt at the side of my bed.
“Adventure,” he said. “Excitement. Remember how we both spoke of riding the Heath once more?”
My blood, which I felt over the years had thickened, now sparked as if by a tinder.
“Will it be a famous robbery?” I asked.
“In a way,” said Jeffries. “But not of gold.”
“The Crown Jewels?” I asked, my eyes shining.
He let out a low laugh.
“One might say that what we seek holds a value far greater.”
“Do not tease me, captain!” I cried.
He put a finger to his lips.
“As difficult a task as it will be,” he said, “we must reform our company.” I smiled from ear to ear. “Not to go on the road. To retrieve something so perilous that its mere existence might threaten the life of the king.”
“Good God!” I whispered.
“Know that spies are everywhere,” said Jeffries. “I even have one of my own—a crusty old Cavalier. He still retains Charles’s favor and was privy to a discussion—or at least the rumors of one. Knowing what trade I practiced, he came to me at once. What he relayed was so fantastical I hardly believed it myself!”
“But captain,”
I asked, “who wishes to kill the king?”
He strode to the open window and closed it, then leaned in close to me.
“Margaret, what we attempt will be our most fraught adventure. Guineas may come and go, but what we seek affects two kings and a duke!”
I leapt up from my bed, then began to gather my clothes.
“I am ready to leave now, sir.”
“First,” said Jeffries, “you must comprehend the danger—"
“Do you think for a moment,” I asked, “that I would stand by? I have many capable workers. They will not miss me as we … save two realms, I s’pose!”
The captain nodded, and I thought he smiled in the dark.
“For this mission,” he said, “You must leave Margaret behind. What I require is Megs, armed and ready for action.”
“Huzzah!” I yelled, then put down my arms. Damn! What about Ned? Hs timing could not be worse.
Jeffries must have seen a change come over me.
“If you have a prior obligation,” he said, “something to hold you here . . .”
I pictured Ned in my mind: sturdy and reliable—he would never put a foot wrong. Then the Aventis of my dreams: mysterious, unknown, beckoning to me from somewhere. What a choice was before me!
“Well, sir,” I said, pausing in the center of my chamber. “You see . . .”
“Yes?” The set of his jaw was steeled for disappointment.
“It’s just that . . . uh . . . all my clothes are under a tree!”
Seizing my pistol and cartridges, I ran for the open window.
Amongst Vacancy
“I would recognize that tree anywhere,” I said, as we rode over the Heath. Jeffries had thought to bring a spare horse and now, after all the long years, it seemed as if no time had passed.
“There is only one trouble,” I sighed. “I can’t see a thing in the dark.”
Jeffries laughed.
“Let us wait for the moon.”
We could see her, a vague silhouette crossed by tendrils of clouds, but she took her time to unveil like a modest woman.
