‘I cannot. I have the energy to explain it only once and I need us all present. And … one more thing.’ Mrs Mills paused. ‘Would you also kindly ask Mrs Morgan to bring her largest, longest skirt and an additional cloak?’
Her friends shared another glance of surprise.
‘You want Mrs Morgan to wear her largest, longest —’
‘No, my dear Mrs Mills, I wish for her to bring those items with her. I would prefer the spare cloak to be as simple and unadorned as possible, preferably with a hood.’
‘Good grief, Countess! My mind is in a whirl of intrigue, but I shall do as you ask.’
Mrs Morgan must have summoned a chair within minutes of receiving her friend’s note, because she was seated in Mrs Mills’s parlour within half an hour, having brought with her the extra garments. When the three others had finally settled, each with a warm drink spiced with a nip of brandy, Jane took a slow, deep breath.
‘I have a curious and not inconsequential favour to ask of you, my loyal supporters and friends,’ she began, taking each of them in with her gaze.
They nodded, eyes wide with anticipation in the candlelight.
‘Let me speak and please do not interrupt. To some extent I will be formulating my plan as I go —’
‘Plan of what, dear Countess?’ Mrs Morgan asked, interrupting immediately.
They saw Winifred’s instant smile of forgiveness. Perhaps she could tolerate the occasional interjection. ‘My plan for the Earl of Nithsdale’s escape from the Tower.’
At their gasps, she raised both hands placatingly. ‘Please, ladies, allow me to tell you everything — although first let me ask: are you prepared to help me in this endeavour? Without your assistance, my plan will not succeed.’
One by one they nodded, so curious that they were wholly under Winifred’s spell.
Jane explained how she had told the yeoman, and thus the rest of the warders, that a reprieve was near enough guaranteed, her express purpose being to slacken their supervision. She mentioned her bribe and how she hoped the men would drink long and merrily to the health of her husband and the King, relaxing their guard still further. She watched as the women exchanged glances and she sensed they were impressed.
‘I have obtained permission to take us in, one at a time, ostensibly to bid him a potential final farewell.’
Her friends leaned forward expectantly.
‘But Countess, by tomorrow everyone will know that there is no pardon,’ Mrs Mills pointed out. ‘The Tower will know by tonight.’
Jane nodded. ‘I realise this. But I have secured permission for this visit and they will be feeling so sorry for me that it will now be a visit of genuine sorrow. The guards will not let me down, I am sure of it.’
‘All right, so tell us how this plan of yours works,’ Mrs Morgan urged.
‘I would leave you, Cecilia, and you, Mrs Mills, downstairs and I would first take you up, Mrs Morgan, and you will be wearing that extra skirt and the extra cloak beneath your own.’
The trio of women listening stared at her and then at each other, perplexed.
‘It is not so far-fetched,’ Jane assured them. ‘Mrs Morgan, you are tall and still so slim despite being with child that the extra garments will go unnoticed. What is more, I have noticed that you and Mrs Mills are of a similar height.’ She wanted to add that right now they were of similar size too, but she didn’t want to offend the stouter Mrs Mills, who was not pregnant.
‘Why is that important? You have me intrigued, my dear,’ Mrs Morgan remarked.
‘Well, once inside my husband’s cell, you will remove the additional garments to reveal the clothes you are wearing now, and after a few words with William, you will leave.’
‘Right.’ She frowned, and felt it necessary to repeat the instructions in case she’d misunderstood. ‘So I go into his cell, take off these extra garments,’ she said, pointing to the skirt and cloak, ‘then leave and go back downstairs?’
‘Exactly.’
‘And that is all?’
‘That is your part played to perfection, Mrs Morgan. You will then hail a chair and be gone, using busy streets so you get lost in the mob.’
‘Well,’ Mrs Morgan said, touching her dark hair, currently swept into a bun, ‘that does not sound too hard.’
Jane hoped her new friend would hold to that sentiment. ‘Next it will be your turn, Mrs Mills. I will need you to arrive sobbing, holding up a handkerchief like this,’ she said, demonstrating with the plain handkerchief she had taken from William Maxwell’s drawer at Terregles. Jane feigned hysterical crying. ‘I want your face to be entirely hidden. You must not be recognised by the guards.’
Mrs Mills regarded her companions blankly before returning her attention to Winifred. ‘Why?’
‘Hear me out. Once inside William’s cell, after asking him to avert his gaze, you will take off your cloak and your skirt and put on those items left by Mrs Morgan.’
The women shook their heads in unified confusion. Minuscule beads of ice began to patter at the parlour window.
‘Hail,’ Cecilia said unnecessarily, and shivered.
Mrs Mills got up to throw a few more small logs on the fire, then returned to her seat. ‘All right, my dear, let me get this absolutely straight in my mind. I am undressing out of my cloak and skirt and redressing in the discarded clothes that Mrs Morgan has left behind. What then?’
‘You will leave the cell.’
‘That is my part finished?’ she asked.
‘You too will have completed your role. I would urge you then to leave the Tower as fast as you can. Once again, a sedan is easiest.’
‘And my original clothes?’ she asked. ‘Still lying in your husband’s cell?’
‘Ah, now we come to it,’ Winifred said with glee, and Jane could see comprehension beginning to dawn on her companions’ faces. ‘Mrs Mills, you will arrive sobbing, leave your original garments behind and then emerge from saying farewell to the Earl with your face exposed and appearing perfectly composed. In fact, you will make sure the yeomen notice that you look to be a different woman from the woman who went in. You will fool them into thinking you are the first woman, for you will be dressed like her — in case anyone noticed.’
Jane cast a glance around to ensure that everyone was still following her; it sounded complicated when in fact William had assessed it right as being childishly comical in its simplicity. It was to be a process of trickery, sleight of hand — the sort of conjuror’s play that forced the unsuspecting eye to see something that really was not there. Distraction — as a magician might admit — was the key to any good trick. ‘Now, my lord husband will then, much against his desire,’ she smiled sadly, ‘put on your original set of clothing, Mrs Mills.’ She didn’t want to add that his broad male body would be amply covered by the clothing of her stout hostess, so she said instead: ‘And your height will be extremely helpful at this point, because the length of your skirt and cloak will suit him well enough.’
‘The Earl will emerge dressed as Mrs Mills went in?’ Mrs Morgan said, understanding fully now.
‘That is correct.’ Winifred beamed, and Jane felt relief that her curious plan at least made sense to the players involved. ‘He will feign sobs as though still overcome with grief, but this precaution will be simply to cover his manly face.’
There were more gasps of surprise. ‘Oh, how clever!’ Cecilia said, her normally reticent expression sparkling with interest. ‘And so the Earl comes to where I will have a carriage waiting, presumably, pretending to be one of the women who came to visit him?’
‘There you have it!’ Jane said, thrilled that she had guessed at the rest. ‘The guards will be in a loosened and lenient frame of mind, I hope. All we will have to do is convince them for a few minutes.’
‘And you?’ Cecilia asked, frowning.
‘Well, I must play my part to perfection, Cecilia, for Mrs Morgan is right: the Tower will already likely know of the King’s decision. Even if he does agree
to pardon some, I know my husband will not be counted among them. So by the time we arrive, they will be anticipating my grief. And I will provide it, pretending to be saying a final farewell to my good husband while hurrying my maid and friends along so I can present a final petition at the House of Lords. Then the guards cannot pay the Earl’s guests any undue attention.’
‘I understand that gives you the excuse not to tarry, my dear Countess, but what of your husband, even if we can successfully get him out of his cell?’ Mrs Mills asked.
‘Mrs Mills, I am counting upon you to suggest a safe house nearby where we can conceal Lord Nithsdale. Cecilia is to wait for me, as would be proper, but she will have seen the Earl safely on his way to the safe house in a closed carriage or fast-moving sedan.’
Mrs Morgan waved a hand. ‘A safe house can be arranged. But my dear, what will you be doing alone in the Tower while we are gone?’
‘Pretending,’ Jane said firmly.
‘Let me clarify,’ Cecilia said. ‘We are counting on the guards, in merry moods, not to notice that two women have gone in with you to the Earl’s cell, but that three have come out?’
‘In a nutshell,’ Jane said, looking at each in turn. ‘It is daring, I agree. But it is also straightforward.’
‘What if the guards do check, though?’ Mrs Morgan asked, rubbing her swollen belly as her child presumably stretched. Jane, or rather Winifred, sympathised.
‘I have arranged it so that the only person who might be questioned — if at all — is you, my dear Mrs Mills, in the spare set of clothes,’ she said, taking her in with a kindly glance. ‘And should they do that, they would discover you are every inch a woman visitor,’ Jane added.
‘Countess, I think we need more help,’ her hostess said. ‘Let me bring my husband in on your plan. You know he is extremely sympathetic to your cause and believes the Earl should be offered his reprieve. I think if we had Mr Mills downstairs with a carriage waiting, ready to bundle your lord husband into it, then we could be more certain of a safe exit from the Tower. Mr Mills is in a far better position to find the right lodgings where your husband’s whereabouts can be kept quiet.’
It did make sense to have that extra person on the ground, Jane agreed, and she knew that Mr Mills could be trusted. It was true that two men could move more easily around London. She nodded. ‘All right, thank you.’
‘I shall call him in,’ Mrs Mills replied, looking relieved.
He was duly summoned. Mills had a calm air about him and his deeply lined face, from years as a sea captain, tended to give the impression of being permanently grave. But at the same time his sharp blue eyes appeared to hold constant amusement, and it was this genial gaze that now gave Jane hope.
‘Well, well,’ he said, having listened silently as Winifred and her cohort explained the plan. ‘That is a bit of fun.’ He slipped a small flattish box of tortoiseshell from his waistcoat pocket. Jane caught the flash of ivory inlay as he flipped the lid open and pinched out a tiny fingertip of snuff. The ladies waited while he inhaled this into one nostril, then repeated the action with a fresh pinch of snuff in the other. After much sniffing and blinking, he returned the box in a practised move to his waistcoat. ‘And what does the Earl think of this grand idea?’ he asked her.
Jane took a breath. ‘He sounded as intrigued as you do, Mr Mills.’
The old sea captain chuckled. ‘I applaud your pluck, Countess.’
‘I admit to feeling ashamed at including your wife and Mrs Morgan in my plot, sir, but I fear I cannot carry out my plan without them and their similar height. With all my heart I believe I can get both of these generous ladies in and out of the Tower without danger. They will be seen but not recalled later in any detail. As for your good self, if you would simply wait with Miss Evans in the carriage until my husband is delivered, then find him somewhere of no consequence to lie low, that is all I would ask of you. The more humble the hideout, the better.’
‘Indeed,’ Mills said, sniffing again. ‘I do believe I know just the spot.’
‘So you will help?’ Jane asked.
‘Without question, I shall.’ He took his wife’s hand and patted it. ‘I cannot have Mrs Mills cavorting around London, engaged in a daring adventure to save a good man’s life, and not do the same. My dear Countess, I have the utmost respect for the Earl. And I share much of London society’s dismay at how poorly the King of England has treated a noblewoman.’
Jane did not want to give them much more time for reflection.
‘Oh, thank you, Mr Mills,’ she said, standing up and clapping her pleasure. ‘Then a slight change of plan means that I can have you waiting in a carriage for William and he can fall as a helplessly weeping wife into your arms.’ She waited, then looked at each of them. ‘So you all agree to help me then, dear friends?’
Under the spell of her enthusiasm and calm manner, the trio of women instantly agreed with a nod.
‘When?’ Mrs Morgan predictably asked.
‘At once,’ Jane said, pulling the plug on her final surprise. She had deliberately not left them any further time to talk themselves out of it. ‘But first, ladies, let’s gather up the garments we require.’
After allowing the Countess to rifle through her chest of drawers, Mrs Mills was happy to lend her a large, lace-edged handkerchief: one of the key items in their conspiracy.
‘I shall also need some items from your toilette,’ she said, glad of Winifred’s terminology.
‘Pardon, Countess?’
‘White powder, rouge …’
‘Ah, indeed. Here, my dear,’ she said, showing Jane behind a screen to where a mirror and dressing table sat. ‘Help yourself.’
Jane put what she thought she might need into a small cloth bag nearby, before returning downstairs.
‘Cecilia, please send someone to hail two hackneys. We shall leave immediately. Mrs Mills and Mrs Morgan, if you would join me in one carriage …’ she said. ‘And ladies, if I call you by different names, don’t flinch, just keep acting out the role you know to present.’
Within minutes, Winifred, Mrs Morgan and Mrs Mills were setting off in one carriage, while Cecilia and Mr Mills made their way in the second carriage using a different route, having agreed where they would secretly await the arrival of William.
Most of the way to the Tower of London, Jane ensured that Winifred chatted in a lively fashion, not permitting her companions to even think of changing their minds, or to reconsider the advisability or consequences of their plans. She had deliberately suggested they go a long way round, via a landmark she had previously only seen from a distance. When the hackney clip-clopped past the still unfinished St Paul’s Cathedral, she was amazed to see that even at night it remained half church, half marketplace. Despite the latish hour and near-freezing conditions, printers sold books here and lovers cuddled.
The cab dipped further into the chaotic maze of medieval streets, some dimly lit, while others relied on the candlelight spilling out of the ramshackle buildings, particularly the ground-level spaces, many of which sheltered dicing rooms, brothels and inns.
Through Winifred’s gaze, Jane saw prostitutes plying their trade against walls, leading men down the warrens of alleys or gossiping with the other girls. She glimpsed weary night-watchmen, trailing their lanterns around the labyrinth that was this part of London, shouting at children and others who were probably pickpockets or thieves. She saw night-soil farmers, scarves tied securely around their mouths and noses, digging out full privies and heaping the waste into their carts. The ratters were out too, whistling to their small dogs and heading into tenements to rid them of their hoards of vermin.
Yet silence gripped the occupants of the carriage as the reality of their journey took hold. They were nearing the Tower now, so Jane allowed herself to let go of her fears as she absently watched the scenery flash by.
At the approach to the Byward Tower gate, Jane could see that, even in the foreground, there was a heavy guard on tonight, but fortunat
ely the men recognised the Earl’s wife. After checking she had permission to bring in her two friends, the guards waved the driver on. The hooves of the horses echoed loudly as the carriage moved beneath the arch, and Jane experienced the sensation of being swallowed by the great stone monolith. Their hackney continued up the hill, then turned to proceed beneath the Bloody Tower, where Jane pointed to the tiny barred window of William’s cell before they arrived at the Lieutenant’s Lodgings.
Jane fixed both women with a firm stare from behind Winifred’s eyes. ‘You know what to do?’ she queried, as a strange calm overtook her. They nodded. Both looked terrified, but this suited her. It was the right mood, given what lay ahead of them.
They alighted from the carriage and sent it on its way, knowing Cecilia and Mr Mills waited, no doubt with trepidation, in another carriage just outside the Byward Tower gate for their special passenger.
‘Mrs Mills, please wait here, just inside the doorway,’ Jane urged. She turned to Mrs Morgan. ‘Ready?’
Her friend looked frightened but determined. She nodded.
‘Two flights of stairs,’ Jane told her, mindful of her child.
‘I shall be fine,’ Mrs Morgan replied as they set off.
Jane took the pregnant woman’s arm to aid her. She dropped her voice. ‘At the top we turn left and then it is twenty paces to William’s door. Look as glum as you wish. And away from all glances,’ she warned.
Jane led Mrs Morgan, their arms still linked, across the familiar Council Chamber and held her breath as they passed the guardroom. A glance inside told her that several of the yeomen’s wives and children were visiting them, warming themselves in front of a lively fire. Two of the men recognised her and raised their hands in greeting, and Jane knew her money had been wisely spent. Her usual yeoman was not in the room, but he arrived now from around the corner to greet her. She nearly jumped with alarm, and stopped herself just in time.
‘Countess,’ he said sombrely, and slid a glance toward Mrs Morgan. ‘Madam,’ he said with a small bow, returning his attention immediately to Winifred. ‘I am truly sorry for the news.’
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