I raged helplessly for some time before the first inkling of an idea came to me. It would take some courage, but it might just work.
I poured some water from my jug into my washbowl and washed my face, in an effort to calm myself. Then I lay down upon my bed and attempted to compose myself and rest. But, alas, I had never learned patience, and soon found myself pacing the chamber again.
The weather was wet the following morning, with the kind of rain that soaks into everything and turns the fields to bogs. It was cool for June, so it drew no remark from Maria that I took a shawl down to breakfast. I noted the chaplain was at his usual place in the hall, looking no worse for the effects of the sleeping drug I had given him.
During the course of the meal, when Maria was engaged in conversation, I seized a sharp knife from the table and concealed it quickly under my shawl. I felt my quickened heartbeat and breathlessness as I looked around to see if anyone had noticed. My hands shook a little as they clutched the knife.
As Maria escorted me back to my room after breakfast, I gripped the knife tightly, steeling myself to threaten Maria with it, or even use it. But in the event it was not necessary. As she stood before me, unlocking my door, she said over her shoulder:
‘Your wedding gown is ready. The seamstress is bringing it for you to try on this afternoon.’
‘I can hardly wait,’ I replied. As Maria half turned, looking puzzled, I gave her a great shove. Caught off balance, she tumbled full length into the chamber with a cry of pain and shock. Quick as a flash, I slammed the door shut between us and turned the key. Maria’s howl of rage when she picked herself up and discovered she was locked in made me glad that this room was so far from the main castle apartments.
As I turned to go, I had a shock myself. The castellan was a few paces away, looking at me with a worried expression on his face.
‘Mistress Eleanor! I saw you take the knife at breakfast. I was afraid … ’ He looked from me to the locked door in some trepidation.
‘I did not use it,’ I hurriedly assured him, as Maria screamed and banged on the door behind me. He looked relieved. ‘Are you willing to help me?’ I asked the castellan. ‘You have done so much for me over the years, will you do me one last service?’ He hesitated a moment, and then nodded.
‘I’ll help you, Mistress Eleanor,’ he assured me. ‘And I’m not the only one.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked him, moving away from my door and Maria’s furious shrieks, down the corridor.
‘You and Lady Elizabeth have more friends here than you realize,’ he replied. I was surprised and pleased, but had no leisure to ponder his words. I had to succeed in escaping today.
‘What I need is some of Maria’s clothes,’ I explained. The castellan looked at me blankly. I explained: ‘So that Mother can wear them, and pretend to be her. Oh, and her horrid little black veil as well. Can you get those for me, please?’
‘I can. That’s a better plan than setting the stables alight,’ he said with a grin. ‘But what are you going to do? I cannot be party to you sticking that knife into anyone. Not even Father Rankin.’
‘I do not intend to actually stab him,’ I replied earnestly. ‘But I may need to threaten him.’
‘I should come with you,’ said the castellan at once. ‘You cannot deal with him alone.’
‘I can and I want to,’ I assured him. ‘No one must know that you helped me. I can’t let anyone else suffer for us. But … ’ I hesitated, thinking of a better plan than searching for the chaplain myself, ‘you could ensure that he goes to the tower. Could you perhaps find him and ask him if I have permission to be visiting Mother, as you saw me going up the stairs?’
The castellan thought about this for a moment, then he smiled his slight, thin-lipped smile.
‘Certainly,’ he told me. ‘And, Mistress Eleanor, can I once more advocate caution in the use of that knife?’
‘I promise,’ I said seriously.
He hurried away to find the chaplain, and I ran to the Lady Tower, heedless of who saw me. I had barely concealed myself behind a door near the foot of the tower when I heard the chaplain’s wheezing breathing as he approached. He was not hurrying, and he was carrying Mother’s tray. I watched Father Rankin, wondering whether the castellan had had time to find him, or whether he had come unprompted. As he jangled the keys, and then thrust the right one into the lock, I crept softly up to him and pressed the knife to his neck. He gasped and froze.
‘Keep unlocking that door,’ I ordered him. ‘And do not turn around. If you do, this knife might slip. Right into your throat,’ I said with relish. I did not feel sorry for him. My mother had suffered for four long years at his hands. The chaplain gave a strangled whimper and slowly turned the key in the lock. The door swung open.
‘Good. Now hold that tray with both hands and walk very slowly all the way up to the next door.’
I followed him, keeping the knife at his throat as he mounted the stairs before me.
It was dark on the stairs. They were lit only by arrow slits in the walls, and it was as gloomy as a winter’s day out there. I could hear the rain falling as we passed each opening, and feel the cold damp air on my skin. It seemed to take forever to shuffle up the stairs, but we reached Mother’s door at length. ‘Now open it,’ I ordered the sweating chaplain.
There had not been a sound from Mother, and I almost feared to look upon her as the door swung open. I was sure she would be thinner and weaker than ever. She stood quietly on the far side of the room. Her eyes were wide with surprise as we entered, but she looked no worse than before.
‘Mother,’ I ordered her, ‘go to the foot of the stairs and wait for me there.’
‘That man,’ said my mother, her voice quivering slightly. ‘Eleanor, I’m not leaving you alone with him. You do not know what he is capable of.’
As she spoke the chaplain twisted round, smashing the tray into my elbow. I cried out in agony as the tender elbow bone was struck. The pain almost blinded me, and I felt the knife fly from my hand. Plate, goblet, jug, and food all went flying through the air, striking me and smashing onto the floor. The noise was incredible. Gasping, eyes watering, I looked frantically for the knife. It lay at some distance from me on the floor. I dived towards it, heedless of the pain in my arm, but the chaplain was faster. Stretching full length, he snatched it up.
I gave a yell of mingled pain and fury, but even as I cried out, I saw Mother’s foot come down on the chaplain’s hand, crushing his fingers. There was a sickening crunch, and he released the knife. ‘Take it!’ shouted Mother over the chaplain’s screams. I did so, and pushed myself up to kneel beside the chaplain, the knife tip now pressing against his ribs.
‘I would dearly love to stick this into you,’ I told the man as menacingly as I could. He stilled his cries, lying still but for his panting. ‘In fact,’ I continued, ‘I’d like to slice you right open and spill your guts like a pig on butchering day. If you give me any more trouble, I shall do just that. Do you understand?’ The chaplain gave the faintest of nods, seemingly frozen with fear, but I did not trust him. ‘Shall we tie him up?’ I asked Mother. As I looked up at her, I saw her looking down at the chaplain, her face a mask of disgust.
‘If I broke your fingers,’ she told him, ‘I’m not sorry. It can be a reminder to you of all the unnecessary suffering you’ve caused me these four years.’
She turned and pulled the sheet off her bed, tore it into strips, and bound the chaplain with them. She pulled the knots tight, and then went to the door, waiting for me there. I stood up, and felt dizzy for a few seconds with the pain that was still throbbing in my elbow. Then I threw the knife onto the floor and left, locking the chaplain in. Mother and I did not speak. We simply hurried, hand in hand, down the steep spiral steps. As I locked the second door behind us, the castellan appeared, clutching a bundle of clothing. He bowed respectfully to Mother and held the bundle out to her.
‘Put them on,’ I urged her, ushering her into the pr
ivacy of a nearby room. ‘You are to be Mistress Maria. We are riding to Bath to meet your sister.’
‘My sister Jane?’ asked Mother. I could see the curiosity in her face.
‘She sent a letter, I’ll explain later.’
I left her to change and went back to thank the castellan.
‘There’s precious little to thank me for,’ he said dismissively. ‘The chaplain was already on his way here. Are you hurt?’ He indicated my dishevelled garments. There was a wet stain down the side of my dress where the water from the tray had spilled, and my gown had been torn slightly in the scuffle.
‘I’m well enough,’ I told him shakily.
‘Are you going to give me the keys?’ asked the castellan gravely.
‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘No indeed, I have quite other plans for them.’
He frowned but did not press me.
‘And so I am to lose my pupil,’ said the castellan quietly. ‘And Walter will lose his jousting partner.’
‘Whether I run away, or stay here to be married, it makes no difference.’ I shrugged. ‘But I shall be sad to give up the training. Tell me. Were you satisfied with your pupil’s performance at the tournament?’
‘I was very pleased with Walter, of course.’
‘And how pleased were you with your other pupil?’
The castellan looked puzzled.
‘The final against Stanton?’ I prompted him, enjoying the way his eyes widened as he tried to take in what I was telling him.
‘Mistress Eleanor, that was not you,’ he said uncertainly.
‘Johnson, it was,’ I assured him. ‘My cousin was too injured to ride the last heat. I took his place.’
I pulled up my sleeve to reveal the cut on my arm, healing nicely now.
He gasped.
‘I never dreamed … Mistress Eleanor, you were magnificent.’
I felt myself glow with his rare praise.
At that moment, Mother emerged, dressed in Maria’s gown, hood, and veil. I thought she looked like Maria. Thinner, of course, but I trusted the guards at the gate would not notice.
The castellan led us swiftly to the stables where two horses awaited us already saddled and bridled. Our cloaks were also awaiting us there. They would be very necessary in such weather.
There were grooms working in the stables but none spared us much more than a cursory glance. If they wondered at us at all, it was why we were riding out in the pouring rain. They did not appear to question our identity.
One of the waiting horses was Beau, the other one of my father’s hunters, an ugly, large-boned animal, strong but steady. Tom was tightening the girths as we entered the stable, and grinned at me.
‘Your father owes you a horse, I reckon,’ he said quietly. He bowed awkwardly to my mother and offered her a leg up onto Beau. I looked at my mount, taking in his raw, inelegant appearance, and felt a rush of sadness for Arianna as well as a stab of resentment towards Stanton who had taken her from me. The castellan offered to throw me up in the saddle. I hesitated.
‘Tom,’ I asked, ‘why is this unspeakable animal wearing a side-saddle?’
The castellan replied for Tom: ‘On my orders,’ he said. ‘I considered it sensible to make a good impression on your aunt.’
‘How did you know my aunt was coming? You told me you cannot read.’
‘True.’ The castellan gave me a quick smile. ‘But I had a long talk with your aunt’s groom when he brought the letter.’
Once I was seated awkwardly in the strange saddle and arranging my skirts, the castellan patted the saddle bags behind me. ‘Betsey’s packed you enough food for half of Bath,’ he said in a low voice.
I found that all this kindness brought tears to my eyes as my suffering here had never done. I leaned down and grasped Johnson’s hand. ‘Thank you,’ I said tremulously. ‘Thank you to everyone who has helped us.’
‘Something tells me you have courage enough for this,’ he replied with a tight smile. ‘Travel safely.’ The castellan turned to Mother.
‘God bless you, my lady,’ he said. ‘That’s a brave daughter you have.’
‘Thank you, Johnson,’ she replied faintly.
As we prepared to ride out the castellan forestalled us: ‘Just let me go and chat to my lads on the gate. If I greet your ladyship as Mistress Maria, they will not question you leaving.’
We watched as he strolled over to the gatehouse and began to exchange idle conversation with the guards. As I turned my horse towards the gate, I reached down and gripped Tom’s shoulder. I said nothing, but we exchanged a long look. I hoped he knew how sorry I was to leave him, though I found I could not say it.
Passing through the gatehouse and crossing the drawbridge should have been the moment of greatest risk. But the castellan’s presence robbed it of danger. The guards would not question us if he did not.
He bowed to us as we passed and called, ‘Ride safely, Mistress Maria, Mistress Eleanor! You will get very wet, I fear!’
The guards stood to attention and let us pass without question. Our horses’ hooves clumped over the wooden drawbridge for the last time. As we crossed, I leaned out and dropped the chaplain’s keys into the moat. They fell into the water with a satisfying splash. And then we were free, riding along towards the Bath Road in the pouring rain.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
We rode in silence at first, with many anxious backward glances. I could scarcely believe that no one was following us. At last, after a mile or so, my mother spoke:
‘Have we succeeded, Eleanor?’ she asked cautiously. ‘It seems scarcely possible that it could be so easy.’
‘Easy?’ I thought of the fight with the chaplain and how I had locked Maria in my room. ‘Did you say easy?’ I threw back my head and laughed, overwhelming relief mixed with my joy. The rain poured down into my face, the heavy drops splashing onto me and running into my mouth.
‘We’re free!’ I shouted, startling my horse. ‘We’ve done it. But, Mother—I would not have called that easy.’
She regarded me with some surprise, which made me laugh all the more.
‘We had many kind helpers,’ I said, once my mirth subsided. ‘I did not realize how many of the staff were loyal to you rather than to Sir Walter.’
‘Nor I, indeed,’ sighed Mother. ‘And the good villagers too. They all heard about our escape to the priory, you know. I was sent so much food that I could not eat it all.’
‘How kind,’ I said touched. ‘I was so afraid that you would starve once I was locked up too.’
‘So was I. I was certain you would be imprisoned, after that night, and I have feared greatly for you.’
‘But as you can see, I am quite well.’
We smiled happily at one another, and Mother leaned over and took my hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze.
I related to Mother how Dr Horde had sought out my aunt and told her our plight. Mother exclaimed, and shed tears of gratitude.
‘Does Jane know we ride to meet her?’ she asked at length.
‘There was no time to write. And indeed, she did not give me her direction in Bath. But she said she was coming to Farleigh today and asked us to try and meet her upon the road.’
‘But, Eleanor, what if we should miss her? Or if she does not set out in such weather?’ I saw there was a worried crease in her brow, and I hastened to reassure her.
‘We cannot miss her. She will be coming along this road,’ I said confidently.
‘Eleanor,’ began Mother hesitantly, ‘do you … have any money?’
I shook my head. ‘No, none. But I have a few things we could sell. This gold necklace for one.’ I showed the gift Maria had given me. ‘Do not fear, Mother. I shall take care of you.’
Mother gave a small laugh. ‘Indeed, ’tis I who should be taking care of you,’ she murmured sadly.
We rode towards Bath for another half an hour or so. The horses slipped and slithered down the long descent into Limpley Stoke, struggling to hold their
footing. Often they sank into the mud and freed themselves with difficulty. I began to fear one of them might cast a shoe, and began looking out ever more anxiously for my aunt. There was no one on the road today, however. Anyone who had any choice had not set out in such weather. Although I said nothing to Mother, I began to feel uneasy. Despite my assurances, I had no idea how we would go about searching for my aunt in an unknown city.
The rain had penetrated our cloaks now, and I could feel ice-cold trickles running down the back of my neck. My hair was plastered to my head. I could see Mother’s clothes were drenched through. I felt a stab of anxiety for her. I knew her health was not strong. She had thrown back Maria’s veil, and the rain was streaming down her face.
‘What is it like?’ I asked, breaking a long silence. ‘To feel the rain and the wind again after so many years indoors?’
‘If you had asked me an hour ago,’ Mother replied, ‘I would have said it was like a taste of heaven. But now, I must confess to being soaked through. I shall look forward to a warm fire at our journey’s end.’
We reached the ford at the bottom of the hill, and I rode my horse cautiously out into it.
‘The water is higher than usual, Mother,’ I called over the rush of the river. ‘But it is safe to cross.’
Mother urged the reluctant Beau out into the water. The horses surged up the bank on the far side and we began the ascent.
‘This is the last real hill before Bath,’ I said encouragingly to Mother. At the top there were wonderful views of the valley spread out below us, with neatly cultivated fields and wooded hillsides, vividly green in all their summer finery. I could see Mother drinking in the beauty of the view.
While we lingered, two horses appeared around the bend of the road. I had not heard them, and there was no time to hide in case it was someone we knew.
‘Mother, pull down your veil,’ I said. She did so at once.
I looked at the riders and my heart leapt into my mouth. One was a servant, but the other I recognized instantly.
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