She waited for a while in the churchyard, and when she judged the time to be right, carefully arranged her bundle so that it was tied about her shoulders, leaving her hands free for the negotiation of the walls. She slipped through the gate, and scrambled up onto the wall. Ruefully she thought how much easier it was in breeches, as she had to hold her petticoats out of the way, but she contrived without too much difficulty. The window was almost in reach, and to her relief Honey saw it was open, as it was normally left. She reached up to pull the casement wider, and forgetting for a moment the extra burden on her back, bent over to avoid the window frame as it swung outwards. For a horrifying second she swayed, poised over the drop to the ground. It was not far, but she could break her leg or arm in such a fall, and in the seconds that passed before the bundle on her back slipped sideways and helped her to regain her balance, visions of herself lying helpless on the ground, with no one knowing or caring about her fate, flashed through Honey's mind.
As she steadied herself, she breathed deeply, standing still for a moment while the pounding of her heart slowed to a more normal beat. Then she carefully untied the bundle and thrust it before her into the room. Taking great care Honey pulled herself up onto the window ledge and swung her legs across it into the room. Gasping with relief she dropped onto the floor and pulled the window close to behind her.
She began now to consider where it would be best to hide. The maid's body would be either in the rooms occupied by the servants, on the attic floor, or, if the others had thought to ease their task of nursing in the past weeks, and brought beds downstairs in the living rooms on the floor below her. She hoped the latter would prove to be the case, realising that if the men who come to collect the dead had to search the house, she might herself be found.
Afraid of what she might see if she stumbled downstairs in search of candles, and also suddenly remembering she must not show a light in the house where only the dead were, she cast about for a safe hiding place. In the room at the front of the house, across the landing from where she stood, there was a deep cupboard into which she could crawl if a search took place, and she did not think the men would be too thorough in their search once they found the body they had come to look for.
There was a slight chance that the body was there, but Honey thought it unlikely and decided to take the risk. Nevertheless she trod very carefully, taking her bundle with her, and cautiously went across the landing and pushed open the door of the parlour where the cupboard was.
Within the house there was a sickly sweet smell, overlying the smell of dust and stale food, and Honey wrinkled up her nose distastefully. Briefly she wondered which of the maids it was who lay dead in the same house, whether one she knew or one who had come to serve her family after she herself had left, but the thought of being in such close proximity to the lifeless body of one she might have known, a body disfigured by the black swellings under the arms and in the groin, and covered with spots, distressed her so greatly she thrust the idea away from her.
*
The smell was not so great inside the room once the door was closed, and Honey hoped it signified there was no body keeping her company. She moved carefully across to the cupboard, opened it wide and placed her bundle inside at one end, leaving plenty of room for her to creep in beside it. Then she went cautiously across to the window and peered out. It was almost dark and there was little to be seen, for not all of the lanterns that usually lit the way were in place. The inhabitants must have removed themselves, or been killed in the plague.
For what seemed hours Honey watched but there was little to see. Only the very rare individual ventured out after dark in these times, for fear of meeting with the death cart, or a desperate thief too wretched or too careless to mind the risk of encountering the infection. Honey had heard of the burials which must take place at night, unattended by any of the normal observances, and shivered slightly. It was a fearsome enough death to face, but the melancholy surrounding it somehow aggravated the tribulations of those left alive.
Slowly the time passed, and Honey, maintaining her vigil, had leisure to think of the events of the day. She was drained of feeling after the varied and intense emotions she had experienced. First there had been the joy of Robert's return and his proposal to her, so swiftly followed by dismay at his actions, and the shock of discovering he was not only a traitor but a coward. The fears she had felt for her family, especially her mother and Patience, were suppressed, because she knew there might still be danger for them, even though they had escaped to the country. She dwelt for a while on the surprising fact her father had acted deceitfully, something she could never have expected of him, and decided it must be because he loved his family more than she had expected, and was prepared to defy the law and also dishonour his conscience for their sake. It made him appear more lovable than she had ever imagined.
Temperance's attitude she dismissed with a shrug. It was no more than she might have expected, for she had never dealt happily with her older sister. She had known for many years that Temperance disliked her, but even now she did not realise the older girl envied her the glorious hair and lovely face that made her shine in any company, and the admiration she attracted.
By concentrating on these aspects of the day, she contrived to push all thoughts of Gervase out of her mind for several seconds at a time, but persistently they intruded on her other thoughts, and eventually became so insistent she was forced to consider them. First there was overwhelming relief he had been proved innocent, followed by shame she could for a moment have doubted him due to listening to Robert's accusations.
When she allowed her memories to go back to the fight, she felt cold at the very idea Gervase might have been hurt, even killed. She realised she had felt no such qualms about Robert at the time, and told herself it was because, having discovered what he was really like, she had ceased to feel any love for him. She refused, even to herself, to go further and admit her fear for Gervase was because she now loved him. Instead she blushed with mortification to recall the things Robert had said, implying she had been Gervase's mistress. It seemed far worse, somehow, to have such an accusation made in front of him, than the open assumption of the same relationship which both Nell and Temperance had made, and, she thought wryly, probably the rest of the players.
This made her think of the theatre, and the fact she would never be able to return. If Gervase were never to be there, she could rejoin the King's Men after the plague were over, and the theatres opened once more, but she knew she could never, after what had happened, resume the friendly association she had enjoyed with so little thought to the future.
*
She was so wrapped in her thoughts she had not heard the distant bells and the cries of the men who were on their rounds, performing the grisly task of collecting dead bodies, and a sudden loud cry of 'Bring out your dead' as the cart turned into Cheapside startled Honey so that she let out a gasp.
The cart came along slowly, stopping once a few houses down. As the body of a child was carried out a sudden wailing arose, and Honey could see in the flickering light of the lantern the men carried a woman struggling with them, trying to escape from the house.
The watchman outside Honey's house ran across to help, and they managed to push her, protesting in heart-rending cries, back into the house and slam the door.
'My baby! My little one!' Honey heard, followed by a terrifying scream, and then, as the cart rumbled on its way, a casement was flung open above the front door, and the distraught mother, obviously being restrained by someone else within the house, appeared at the window, straining after her child with outstretched arms, her hair streaming across her face in a manner that gave her a witchlike aspect.
Honey blinked back the tears, and realised with a shock the cart had stopped below her own window. The watchman's voice came up to her clearly.
'No sign all day, nor yesterday, though I've hammered on the door a many times.'
'Then we'd best break in. You did
say as there were only one left?'
'Aye, the others went days ago.'
As they moved across towards the door and pushed at it to see whether it was unlocked, Honey felt her way to the cupboard, and crouched down inside it, pulling the door tightly closed. She could lean against her bundle, and did so to stop the trembling that threatened to overcome her. She had not dared to think of what would happen if she were discovered, but now the very idea of being shut up for weeks in this house, all alone, waiting for the plague to strike, terrified her. Never had she longed so fervently to be out in the open, breathing in the smell of the markets, the fish down on the wharves, the fresh breezes from the river, instead of the musty and airless atmosphere of this unused cupboard.
The noises coming from downstairs made it obvious the men had entered the house, and were searching it room by room. Honey heard the slow tread approaching as they climbed the stairs, and then the door of the room where she was creaked as they pushed it open. A faint light could be seen through a crack in the door of the cupboard, as they paused and looked about them.
At that exact moment there was a scrabbling noise behind Honey, a noise she had heard many times, of a mouse running across the bare wooden boards. In the silence it sounded horrifically loud, and Honey imagined a giant rat emerging from a hole in the wainscot to join her in the cupboard. It felt to the frightened girl as if her heart expanded to fill her entire body, and it was only by the most heroic effort she bit back the scream that rose to her throat, biting convulsively on her fingers until she drew blood.
For an eternity the light remained still outside the cupboard, but mercifully the scrabbling noises ceased, and Honey, rigid with fear, did not feel any bites from the intruder. She prayed that the rat, if it were indeed one, had retreated down another hole, and when the light disappeared, and the door of the room was slammed shut, expelled her breath in a shuddering sigh.
The search continued, and it seemed to Honey the men took an inordinately long time to search the remainder of the house. They seemed eventually to have found the body they looked for, for their footsteps could be heard as they returned down the stairs, treading carefully and slowly as if they carried an awkward burden. They passed on to the lower floor and out of the house, and Honey pushed open the door of her hiding place the better to hear what was happening.
*
Within a very short time the cart was moving on its way, the wheels sounding excessively loud in the darkness as they rolled over the cobblestones, and the cry once more breaking into the night, 'Bring out your dead'.
Tremblingly Honey crept out of the cupboard and stretched her aching limbs. She went slowly to the window, and was just in time to see the cart disappear as it turned into Wood Street. Suddenly she felt indescribably weary, and sank down onto a chair, resting her head against the leather-covered back and closing her eyes. She slept for a while, and then woke, feeling a certain stiffness in her neck.
'What a foolish place to go to sleep,' she thought drowsily, and began to consider what would be the most sensible thing for her to do. She could go to her own old room, and hope that none of the sick inhabitants of the house had used it. It did not seem likely, and since she could not dare to leave the house and set off on the as yet unplanned journey before daylight, she ought to try to sleep in comfort.
She stood up, picked up her bundle, then felt her way across the room towards the door. While she had slept the moon had risen, and there was a faint illumination that helped slightly, and enabled her to move fairly quickly. She was reaching her hand to the latch when she froze in horror, for there was the distinct sound of footsteps coming towards her in the passage outside.
Petrified for a moment, the wildest thoughts chased through her head. Had the dead cart men returned? Had there been some other plague victim in the house after all? Or had some marauder, defying the cross, taken the risk of plundering an infected house? Before she could decide which would be the worst position, or even move away from the door, the footsteps stopped.
'Honey? Where are you? It is I, Gervase.'
She must have made some sound, but she was incapable of answering. Gervase heard her and flung open the door, and then Honey found herself clasped to his breast, the breath driven from her body, while he murmured soothing words to her and stroked her hair back from her face.
'How – how did you find me?' she gasped when she could speak.
He released her quickly, as if he had only just discovered he was embracing her fiercely, and gave a brief laugh.
'It did not take much effort to deduce where you were,' he replied. 'Foolish, ridiculous one, did you not know the risk you ran? Come, it is dark yet, but I brought a couple of stout fellows along with me, and they wait in the churchyard and will escort us back to Mistress Betsy's in safety.'
'No, I cannot go back!' Honey said, drawing away from him. 'I mean to go away, to find my parents.'
'You will do as I tell you,' he answered. 'You would not be permitted to pass through towns, and how could you then reach them? Do you not know travellers have to carry bills of health, and if it were discovered you had been inside a house where plague had struck, you would not only not obtain such a bill, but would be kept imprisoned until you died or were considered free of the sickness.'
'I did not think they would mind one girl, and I would not have said I came from London,' Honey said weakly.
'Do you think them all simpletons? They would know full well where you came from. But enough of argument. We must climb out of the window, for fear the front of the house is still watched. There is another watchman guarding a house a few yards down, and we must not be seen by him.'
*
He opened the door and took her arm, leading her through to the back room.
'My clothes!' Honey remembered, and tried to stop so that she could pick up the bundle she had dropped when she had been swept into his arms.
'You cannot take them. They could carry the pestilence. Oh, my foolish, heedless Honey! I am taking you straight back to Mistress Betsy, who will burn all you have on, and then you will bath in a specially prepared bath, for Mistress Betsy tells me she knows some herbs which will ward off the disease, and is preparing it for you.'
'But they are all I have! I cannot burn all my clothes, and abandon them here!'
'It is the only safe thing to do. Besides, I shall buy you more, better than what you have been forced to make do with. Now, cease arguing, and come!'
He almost carried her, still protesting, to the window, and helped her clamber down from it, lifting her finally to the ground and holding her close to him for a moment before turning to lead her to where the men he had mentioned waited for them, armed with a lantern and businesslike cudgels.
They walked swiftly back to Mistress Betsy's house, and Gervase held Honey firmly as he helped her along. She was too bemused at what had happened to think properly, and when they reached the house, submitted meekly to Mistress Betsy's administrations as she stripped off Honey's clothes, cast them straight into the fire she had kindled, and briskly directed the girl to get into the tub full of steaming, fragrant water, and wash every inch of herself including her hair.
Honey did as she was told, and Mistress Betsy bustled around, helping to rinse the hair clear of soap, and then wrapping a large warm linen towel about Honey when she emerged, much refreshed, from her immersion. Mistress Betsy helped her to dry herself, and then produced some of the clothes Honey had left behind her when she fled.
'Supper will be ready in a few minutes,' she announced, and Honey, unable to think properly or resist what was happening, permitted her to brush out the tangled curls, lying damply on her shoulders, and then nod in satisfaction, and lead her to Gervase's room where supper was laid, as so often in the past.
Gervase was awaiting her, as elegant as usual, and Honey, conscious of her wet hair, felt a pang of envy for the wig he wore. She noticed he too had changed his clothes, and guiltily began to reckon the cost of the burned clothes.
He seemed as distant in his manner as when he had been making her practise her parts, and with only a slight smile bowed her to her seat. They ate in a strained atmosphere, making trivial remarks, mostly about the excellence of the food, and Mistress Betsy hovered anxiously over them, remarking it was near time for breakfast rather than supper, and she did not think they ought to contemplate starting a journey until the following day, after they had had a good sleep.
*
At last she departed, and Gervase held out his hand to Honey, drawing her to sit on a more comfortable chair near the empty fireplace.
'Now we can talk,' he remarked, handing her a glass of wine. 'Why did you run away?'
Faced with a straight question, Honey stammered and blushed, murmuring that she felt it necessary to go to her parents.
'But you do not know where they are, and whether they would accept you if you could find them. Robert told me you had been to see your sister, but she would not help you. Did you go because of what you discovered about Robert, that he was the traitor?'
Quickly Honey shook her head.
'No, indeed, for I did not care about him!'
'Then it seems he might have said something to disturb you. Did he? Did it concern me?'
Honey looked down, but as he remained silent, she eventually glanced up at him, and nodded.
'They all think the same, and I could not bear it!' she said, the words torn from her. 'Temperance called me a player's wench, and Nell thinks that I – that we –' She stopped, and suddenly found he was kneeling beside her, removing the wineglass from her nerveless hands, and taking them into his own.
'Could you not bear people to think we loved one another?' he asked softly. 'Or was it the shame of being thought my mistress?'
'I – you do not! I am not! I would not have them think badly of you,' she cried.
'It may have been unwise for me to have kept you here under the same roof,' he said quietly, 'but I dared not leave you without my protection. Will you mind having been thought my mistress once we are married?'
Player's Wench Page 13
