Jane sniffled convincingly. ‘’Twas a terrible shock, indeed, Hugh. But I should have known not to presume too much upon the King’s favour. All I wish now is to hold my husband one last time.’
He cleared his throat. ‘The Lords Derwentwater, Kenmure, Widdrington, Nairn, Carnwarth and … er, and your husband will be led to Tower Hill at midday tomorrow, My Lady. But I have won permission from Sir George Moseley for you and your lady friends to visit him now briefly.’
She swallowed, keeping her fear at bay. ‘Hugh, thank you again for this small privilege.’ She wanted to keep his attention on Winifred and discourage him from glancing at her companion.
He looked at her again. ‘Forgive us the merriment next door, Countess. Your coin has gladdened the warders and their families.’
‘Oh, dear me, do not apologise. I am sure the merry voices of children will cheer my dear lord in these final hours,’ she assured him, pushing the mute Mrs Morgan forward now. ‘I have followed your instructions to bring in one friend at a time.’
Hugh nodded. He addressed the burly guard on duty outside her husband’s room. ‘Step aside and let the Countess and her friends pass as they choose.’
Perfect, Jane thought. ‘Goodnight, Hugh … thank you again.’
He looked as though he wanted to say something more, but was suddenly bereft of words. Instead, he gave a small bow and withdrew. The door was opened and Jane hurried Mrs Morgan through, then slipped in after her and watched it close behind them.
William was standing against the wall by a small table, his shirt buttoned, his face freshly shaven as she had asked, hair combed and tied back neatly into a queue. His waistcoat was half open and his jacket, brushed clean of dust and grime, hung over the chair. He looked as haunted as Hugh had looked moments earlier. His complexion was pale in the dim ghostly light of a single candle. For a moment they stood and regarded each other in a tense panic before Winifred threw herself toward him.
‘I was not sure you would go through with it,’ he whispered into her neck.
She kissed him quickly before pulling away. ‘William, this is a wonderfully brave friend of mine, Mrs Morgan.’
He took his guest’s hand and kissed it. ‘Mrs Morgan, if this plan works, I will owe you a debt I fear I can never repay.’
Her new friend melted at his words. Jane had overlooked William’s effect on women. She knew from Winifred’s thoughts that her husband attracted female attention with the greatest of ease. Jane realised she had only known him in the confines of this cell, with just the two of them present. To see him now, in the context of other people’s regard, was enlightening.
Mrs Morgan was clutching a hand to the base of her throat and surely blushing. ‘I could hardly refuse your dear wife, My Lord. She is most persuasive, and I suspect I can now see why,’ she said with a throaty chuckle as her previous fears fled. ‘But now I must ask you to turn away, Lord Nithsdale, for I must undress.’ She giggled, but hushed herself immediately.
Jane could barely believe that pregnant Mrs Morgan was flirting with Winifred’s husband.
‘William … let me run through the plan again while Mrs Morgan takes off her skirt.’
He turned his back on their companion and bit his lip. ‘I fail to see how this is going to work,’ he whispered, reiterating his previous concern.
‘I beg you, William. You must do exactly as I say. Remember, I am familiar with the routines and men outside. I have made friends of most … right now they are drinking the ale our coin has purchased and sharing treats with their families that our savings provided. You have to trust me. We have only hours to save your head.’
He let out a sigh. ‘I am in your hands, dear wife.’
‘Exactly as I say,’ she emphasised. ‘No deviation.’
He put his hand on his heart. ‘I promise.’
She looked over his shoulder. ‘Mrs Morgan is ready. Now we must leave. Be ready to do exactly as I instruct quickly and without question when I return.’
‘Return? From where?’ He looked confused, sounded unsure again.
‘Trust me,’ she hissed back. Jane could feel Winifred’s adrenaline surging, bringing a sort of wild energy that she knew she must keep under control or she would lose her ability to think calmly, react swiftly. The last thing she needed now was for Winifred’s fragile body to fail. Her friends and her husband were entirely under her spell and one wrong move from her could prove catastrophic. She did not wait for William to respond to her words, instead taking control and hurrying Mrs Morgan from the room, while speaking in a loud, excited voice to distract the guard with the halberd and anyone else who might be listening.
‘Please, please, I beg you,’ she said, pushing Mrs Morgan ahead of her, ‘go and find my maid quickly, as I must present one final petition this evening. I must try one last time,’ she wept, her voice fully raised.
Mrs Morgan was hurried past the guardroom and no one so much as looked away from the fire. Jane saw her safely downstairs and out of the lodgings, feeling a wave of relief. ‘Go!’ she said to Mrs Morgan. ‘Hail a sedan and get away, head home. You’ve been there all night; make sure the servants know it too.’ She beckoned to Mrs Mills, waiting inside the doorway. Her heart was thumping now: this would be one of the most challenging parts of her plan.
‘Start weeping, my friend,’ she whispered, as she linked arms with Mrs Mills and started to bundle her up the two flights of stairs. Her companion obediently covered her face with her very large handkerchief and began letting out a wail. Jane could believe that Mrs Mills, slightly bent over in her distress, was weeping inconsolably. Perhaps Mrs Mills was as terrified as the others, or else she was loving the intrigue, but Jane was undeniably grateful for her acting, feeling a moment of relieved amusement as they passed the warders’ room and were thrown genuine looks of sympathy.
The guard outside William’s cell cut his gaze away, predictably embarrassed by the caterwauling woman, as Jane helped Mrs Mills through the door and closed it behind her.
‘Keep the wails going,’ she urged her companion as she glanced at a dismayed William. ‘Turn away,’ she snapped in her tension, and he spun around as if bitten. ‘Get changed now, Mrs Mills,’ she murmured to her friend, who was still performing brilliantly, allowing her cries to dull down to a softer whimper. ‘Dress yourself in Mrs Morgan’s skirt and cloak. Hurry, please!’
While Mrs Mills undressed and re-dressed, Jane set about the task of daubing the hastily assembled make-up, carried in beneath her cloak, onto William’s face.
‘Winifred, really …’ he protested softly.
‘Do not struggle, my love; remember your promise.’
A look of disgust pinched his face beneath her ministrations, but Jane continued to powder and rouge, and then tried to cover up William’s dark eyebrows with white leaded paint she had found in one of the pots on Mrs Mills’s dressing table. Jane understood it was an early type of foundation.
She finished and stood back to admire her work.
‘It will not fool anyone up close, but I have no intention of letting a single guard near you. Now, William, listen closely to me.’
She explained hastily, but succinctly, that it was now his turn to act his part, just as well and just as courageously as her two companions had. Jane glanced at Mrs Mills, still keeping up a fine moaning wail, and now dressed in Mrs Morgan’s cast-offs.
She nodded. ‘Well done. Ready?’
Mrs Mills paused to grin. She held out the handkerchief, which Jane took.
‘You know what to do, my love?’ Jane said to William.
He grimaced and nodded, reaching for the skirt and cloak.
‘And you’ll need this,’ she said, holding out the lace handkerchief, ‘if you are going to convince them you’re the same woman who came in wailing. You heard her. Do the same and we will have you free.’
She took Mrs Mills by the arm. ‘I shall be back, William; do not tarry,’ she said grimly. Jane led her friend out and hurried her past the
guards, again effecting her distraught voice. ‘Dear Mrs Catherine,’ she said, reaching for any name that came to mind, ‘I must beg of you to go in all haste and find my maid, for she does not realise the time, it seems, and mayhap has forgotten the last petition I am to give; should I fail, the situation is irreparable, since I have only this one night left to curry favour. Please, I beg you, force her to make haste, for I shall be on tenterhooks until she comes.’
Jane and Mrs Mills were able to move safely across the Council Chamber without being stopped. She almost ran down the first flight of stairs with a heavily breathing Mrs Mills, before squeezing her hand in thanks. ‘You did it!’ she murmured, her tone sparkling with gratitude. ‘Now please, get yourself away, but first warn your good husband that his part is imminent. I thank you with all my heart.’
Her friend grinned. ‘Good luck, dear Countess,’ she said over her shoulder, hurrying down the second flight of stairs.
Jane could feel Winifred’s heart pounding so hard it was now vibrating in her throat, but she was bravely keeping her tension under control. The hardest and most fraught part of her daring plan was yet to unfold. She turned back, fearful but determined not to falter now, and made her way again into William’s cell, this time ensuring that Winifred’s shoulders were deliberately sagging, and dabbing helplessly at her eyes.
Jane wasn’t ready for the sight awaiting Winifred and had to stifle her host’s giggle as she caught sight of her husband struggling into a skirt. Her laughter, which could easily have been interpreted on the other side of the door as a sob, had a touch of hysteria in it, and Jane made Winifred bite her knuckle to regain focus.
William turned to glare at her with a finger in the air, to forestall any sarcastic comment she might think of making, but before he could say anything, Winifred was kissing his hand.
‘We’re so close to finishing this, my darling. Keep faith with me,’ she murmured.
His glower faded and he smiled sadly, leaning down to snatch a kiss. ‘I have no choice, but in truth you make me feel far braver than I am.’ He sighed. ‘The warder will be along soon, with fresh candles for the condemned man’s final night.’
Jane stole a glance at the twilight. This farce of hers had to be completed before any kindly warder arrived. She hurried to tie on William’s cloak and then pulled the hood over his head.
‘Keep the handkerchief over your face, and remember to weep like a woman does — just as you heard Mrs Mills do earlier.’
‘I don’t know if I can —’
‘You can!’ she snapped, gripping his wrists. ‘Just think of how I was when I endured the miscarriages of our precious children. Remember how I wept? Keep that sorrow in mind and pretend. Believe me when I say they will not want to interrupt you — they will be embarrassed.’
He nodded in response to her insistent gaze. ‘London will know I slunk away as a woman.’
‘London will applaud us,’ she growled close to his face.
He shook his head suddenly. ‘I cannot do it.’
She stared, at once horrified but also bewildered by his words.
‘Cannot, or will not?’ she demanded in an angry whisper.
‘Both!’ he snapped. ‘Do you truly want your husband to be thought of as a coward who resorted to a woman’s petticoats because he couldn’t face the consequences of his actions?’
‘You’ve proved your worth as a man. There is nothing to be gained by losing your manly head!’
‘I will be the clown of London.’
‘Nay, my lord, you will have thumbed your nose at the Protestant king.’
He raised his gaze to hers and shook his head defiantly. ‘Not this way,’ he said, and Winifred recognised the implacable note in his voice as he began to undress.
Jane was even more surprised by the stinging slap she gave him than her host was. She could feel rage churning through Winifred’s body, hotter than the fever that was always threatening, except it wasn’t Winifred’s anger, but hers.
‘How fucking dare you!’ she whispered with force, and she wondered if the language didn’t frighten William more than her physical attack. ‘Four brave women put their names, their reputations, their lives on that same chopping block as you tonight — for do not persuade yourself otherwise, Will. We too are committing treachery against the Crown, and so is everyone else involved in this secret plot to get you safely out of a gaol that no poor sod has ever broken free of before.’ He stared at her in shock, her handprint still visible in the powder on his cheek. ‘You are a coward if you remain. You are a Jacobite hero if you defy this king and his gaolers. We are leaving now, and I will not hear another word to the contrary.’
Jane couldn’t read his expression, but the fight seemed to go out of him as he deflated his chest with a sigh. ‘Forgive me.’
‘This is it, Will. Be a weeping, hysterical woman for just a few minutes and you shall cheat that executioner’s axe, and do much more for the Jacobite cause than dying a martyr with an audience jeering at your severed throat! Do it for our children, and because you love me.’
‘I am ready, Win. Let us cheat death.’
‘Come,’ she said, taking his arm and pushing the hand holding the handkerchief to his face. ‘Start your whimpering. Remember you are a woman who has just said her final farewell to a condemned man she loves as a brother.’
Jane felt Winifred’s heart hammering so hard that it was sounding in her head as well as banging on her ribcage. She hoped her host’s heart was strong enough for this excitement, but she knew by now not to doubt stoic Winifred.
She opened the door and pushed past the doorway, surprised that the yeoman outside had moved. He and three other warders were milling around outside the guardroom, blocking their path. She felt William tense.
‘Head down and wailing,’ she whispered.
William’s weeping was surprisingly convincing and Jane began a steady stream of soothing words.
‘Excuse me, gentlemen,’ she said, her tone full of anxiety, pushing William and herself past the burly shoulders of the men. ‘I must see my unhappy friend away from here.’ Now was the moment that her trick must work; she had to confuse and distract the guards into believing this was not the third time she was repeating the request. ‘Oh, dear Mrs Betty, my maid is ruining me by not coming. Please run and bring her to me. You know my lodgings. If ever you have made haste in your life, please, I beg you to do so now, otherwise all is lost.’
Maybe she should have let William practise walking in the skirt, but time had not permitted her. He was not used to the cumbersome nature of the skirt, and just as they were clearing the guardroom, about to cross the Council Chamber, he tripped. He crashed his shoulder into the wall but somehow managed to keep his curse appropriately high-sounding. Guards approached, Hugh among them.
Jane wanted to scream. Winifred was cringing within herself.
‘My Lady? Is your friend injured?’
William wailed and Jane experienced what had only previously been an adage to her when Winifred’s knees turned to jelly. She felt them buckle in her terror, as William’s hood had slipped. She sensed Hugh coming close. That was all it would take. One glimpse at the poorly made-up face of her husband and kindly Hugh would guess what was afoot.
She let out the hysterical shriek of a woman who had reached her final level of tolerance. If she were truthful, this was no act, for Jane knew they were a heartbeat away from being discovered.
But the warders were taken by such surprise at this emotional outburst from a woman they thought of as calm and contained that they froze in their tracks. Jane pushed on in a high, breathless voice. ‘Miss Betty, please, please, I beg of you! Don’t let me down now!’ she entreated, clasping ‘Betty’ close and straightening her hood. ‘If I am to save my husband, you must find my maid!’ She propelled William forward, away from the immediate light of the cresset and into a pool of shadow near the stairs.
‘My Lady?’ Hugh repeated.
‘Forgive me, Hugh; I am
at my wits’ end,’ she said without turning. ‘I must get my friend Betty on her way.’
William sobbed just loudly enough to be credible, in a high-pitched voice. Holding the handkerchief close to his hooded face, he bowed his head and made himself look as small as possible, leaning into Winifred and taking small steps, as Jane nodded her thanks at Hugh and hurried William across the Council Chamber with a sense of terrified déjà vu. She was feeling dizzy with the adrenaline that was pounding through Winifred’s blood.
And suddenly they were descending the stairs. She could feel the cold London air whistling up the steps, touching her face. William was just minutes away from freedom now. They could do it! No. They were doing it!
He was escaping!
They half stumbled, half ran down the second flight of stairs.
‘Keep crying, keep hidden,’ she hissed near the hood of his cloak.
Her heart nearly stopped when they rounded the corner to find guards at the bottom of the second flight. These men had not been there before. William wailed louder and it appeared to work, for the men, on looking at Winifred’s panicked expression and recognising the generous Countess, opened the door and let William out.
‘To the Byward Tower gate,’ she called, supporting him down the small grassed incline, his sobs slowing down now. There was no time for a farewell kiss of good luck. She could see Cecilia waiting with Mr Mills in the shadows just outside the gate, and within moments she had closed the distance and passed her precious cargo into their care. She lifted her hand to the carriage as it hurried away from the Tower into the warren of streets that comprised East London.
Jane could now hear a ringing in Winifred’s ears, and knew her cheeks were burning with such a build-up of excitement and strain that Winifred threatened to vomit. They had to keep their shared joy in check.
We did it, Winifred! She wanted to punch the air.
One final hurdle, Jane, she thought she heard in her mind.
One final hurdle to leap indeed, and it was by far the most nerve-wracking aspect of her loose plan.
Tapestry Page 34
