He moved to the window in three quick strides, then turned back to stare into her eyes. “This doom I do not know,” he admitted. “But I will take you home, Eliz-a-beth, or my life blood will run out on English soil.”
“You don’t understand. There’s no way for us to escape Edward. Even if he—”
“I will find a way.”
“Bold words!” she flared. “From a man who wears Dunmore’s livery. You’re no more than his slave. How can you let him shame you—treat you like a wild beast on display? Where is your Lenape pride in that?”
“No man can shame another,” Cain retorted angrily. “Shame comes from within a man’s heart—not from outside. I wear Dunmore’s clothes and eat his bread while I learn English ways to take us back across the sea. If you do not see that Dunmore shames himself by what he does, then it may be that there is no hope for us.”
“Wait,” she pleaded. “I don’t-”
There was a gust of wind and driving rain as Cain flung open the window, and Elizabeth was left to weep alone.
Chapter 19
London
April 1665
Passersby scattered as Elizabeth’s coach rumbled over London Bridge. She hated the bridge; tall wooden buildings were crammed close together, hanging over the narrow, ill-maintained roadway. She never crossed without having the feeling that the whole top-heavy structure might collapse at any moment and tumble willy-nilly into the Thames.
Betty and Edward’s spy, Jane, sat across from her; both maids had accompanied her to the afternoon performance at the Bear Garden, a popular playhouse on the south side of the river. Her husband had joined them at the comedy and then had remained with friends for the cockfights and presumably an evening of gambling and merriment.
Edward had barely spoken to her, but their appearance together would be enough to silence gossip that Lord Dunmore and his new bride were at odds. What others thought meant little to Elizabeth, but it meant a great deal to Edward. Spending an afternoon in public with him was small enough price to pay for her relative freedom.
After they’d left the Bear Garden, Elizabeth had ordered the coachman to stop at a small church. Leaving Jane in the coach, she’d taken Betty and gone into the chapel to pray. Although the interior of the church had been quiet and peaceful, Elizabeth had found no release from her growing unease.
I am not cut out to live a life of deceit and immorality, she thought as the coach bounced from side to side, rattling her teeth and sending up showers of dust and cinders. Regardless of the rampant promiscuity at King Charles’s court, cuckolding Dunmore was not an easy thing to live with.
It didn’t matter that half her friends’ husbands kept mistresses openly, or that the King himself slept with most of her friends—including her sister Ann. The pomp and glitter that radiated around Charles and his restoration court seemed to Elizabeth to be more dross than gold. The endless balls, the fortunes won and lost at dice and dull, repetitive card games were all meaningless. The only hours that mattered were those she spent in Cain’s strong arms.
We play a dangerous game, she thought. Despite Edward’s deteriorating health, he is still capable of having Cain and me put to death if he learns what is happening between us under his very roof.
Her plans to send Cain back to the Colonies had come to nothing. When she had approached her father about making the travel arrangements, he had only scoffed.
“God’s heart, Lizbet!” Sommersett had boomed. “Remember who you are! Think ye I’d risk theft and transportation of Dunmore’s valuable slave for a chit’s lust? I warned you about that creature before you married Dunmore. You’ll be in mourning for your lord soon enough. Can you not see the flesh melting off him like wax off a candle? When he’s decently beneath the sod, you can play as you like with his pets.” He’d frowned and stared hard at her middle. “Your mother was with child a month after we wed. What’s wrong with you that you’ve not produced an heir? Even a wench would be better than nothing. Hie thee to your husband’s bed and stay there until you swell with babe.”
“Think you I fancy going to a murderer’s bed?” she’d flung back in anger.
“Edward paid to have the wheel of his brother’s coach loosened. That hardly makes him chief executioner at the Tower, does it? I’ve no doubt he wanted Richard dead, but the old man’s death was probably an accident.” Her father had laughed then and patted her head. “No need for you to worry. You don’t stand between him and a title. If he hasn’t done away with you by now, he won’t.” He’d eyed her suspiciously. “Unless you’re putting horns on him with that savage?”
“There’s no need to insult me,” she’d retorted.
“Well, then,” he soothed. “Once you’re with child, Dunmore will treat you like spun glass. Just be certain his heir has the proper color skin.”
“It will.”
“Then we’ve no problem, have we? When Dunmore dies, I will control all that is his.” Pacified, Sommersett had given her a rare embrace and sent her on her way. “Stop worrying about men’s affairs and put your mind to breeding,” he’d advised. “I’d never have told you what I’d learned about Edward if I’d thought you’d be so emotional about the whole affair.”
The coach slowed suddenly, and Elizabeth was thrown against the side. She shoved away a curtain and stared out. Ahead, blocking the street, was a funeral procession. From the size of the coffin, the deceased appeared to be a child. Behind the mourning family walked a gloved physician in the customary long, full-skirted leather coat with an obscene birdlike headcovering complete with glass eyepiece and perfume-stuffed beak.
Elizabeth let the curtain drop and sank back against the seat. “Another plague death,” she said.
“I saw a woman drop in the street at the market yesterday, m’lady,” Jane said. “ ’Tis said the deaths are heavy in the poorer sections o’ the city.”
“That family was not poor,” Elizabeth replied. “I’ve seen that man carrying the coffin before. He’s a spice merchant.”
Betty’s pupils dilated until they seemed to fill her blotchy face. “Cover yer mouth, m’lady,” she cried. “The plague is carried on the air.”
Betty had shot up three inches since Christmas, and Elizabeth had ordered her two new dresses of good wool with matching aprons and white linen collars, and stout leather shoes. For today’s special outing, Betty had worn her new hooded cape of blue Flanders wool. A pity, Elizabeth thought, that her new clothes do little to improve her appearance. I fear she will always look like a starving robin chick washed out of its nest in a rainstorm.
“Ye should never ha’ let Bridget go t’ her sister’s weddin’ at St. Giles,” Jane whined. “She’ll bring the plague home and be the death o’ us all.”
“Maureen is Bridget’s only living sister,” Elizabeth said. “Maureen and her new husband, Sean, are moving to Bristol. If Bridget didn’t see her today, God knows when they could visit with each other again.”
“Irish rabble,” Jane mumbled.
“No more,” Elizabeth snapped. “When I need your help to instruct my maids, I’ll ask for it.”
“Yes, m’lady.” Jane twisted her thin mouth into a lazy smirk.
Elizabeth fumed. Both women knew that Elizabeth was powerless to dismiss her from her post, and Jane never failed to display some trace of impudence when chastised.
In truth, Elizabeth was concerned about Bridget’s safety. She had asked for and been given two days off to attend Maureen’s wedding. Elizabeth had sent her away wearing a new dress and carrying a gift of silver coin for the young couple. Robert, the footman, had gone along to carry a hamper of meat, cheese, and pastries to contribute to the wedding supper. Robert had come back on time, his breath smelling of ale, but so far, Elizabeth had seen nothing of Bridget. She’d promised to return last night, and it was not like the girl to be undependable.
Elizabeth made two more stops on the way home, first at an apothecary to refill her store of medicinals, and again at Micah’s shop to
leave a necklace for him to convert to coin. If and when it was possible to send Cain back to America, she would need access to a large sum of money. She could trust Micah to keep the money safe, and to do so without informing her husband or her father.
When they reached the house at dusk, they found total confusion. Servants were running back and forth carrying bundles and trunks, and the large traveling coach pulled by four horses was standing ready at the west entrance. Edward’s barking hounds ran circles around the horses, and one of the cooks was swearing loudly at a pot boy.
“What’s amiss?” Elizabeth demanded of the nearest serving woman.
“Lord Dunmore has been askin’ fer ye, lady,” the red-faced wench replied, setting down her overflowing basket of linens. “He’s give orders that we’re t’ leave fer the country at once.”
“There you are.” Edward swore a foul oath as he ran down the back steps, wig and feathered hat askew. “Have your maids pack your things. We’re going to Sotterley.” Edward’s face was red and puffy, and his usually immaculate attire was the worse for wear. His brown velvet coat was wrinkled, and an oyster-gray stocking sagged around his left ankle.
“But you agreed to attend the masque at Lord Wilton’s tomorrow night. I thought—”
“Damn Wilton and his silly affair. Phillip Mal-sey’s cook died of the plague this morning. They say Phillip’s senile old mother is taken with hideous buboes of the neck. I played cards with Phillip just last night.”
“But surely—”
“We’re away to Sotterley, I say.” Edward covered his mouth with a perfumed handkerchief. “Take only what is absolutely necessary. The servants can follow with anything else you need.”
“Is Bridget back?”
Edward shook his head. “I’ve not seen the slut. If she’s run off, we’re well rid of her. Jane can—”
“I’ll not have Jane in my bedchamber.”
“Then you must make do with Betty and some wench at Sotterley. God knows there’s enough lazy mawks in my employ. We’ll not risk dying of the plague for a maggot-brained bawd.”
“As you will, m’lord,” she answered dutifully. “But I must have time to change. I cannot ride all night in these clothes.” Edward muttered something in reply, and Elizabeth hurried up to her chamber.
“Bett,” she cried when the girl followed her into the room, “lock the door and help me into a riding habit. I can’t leave until I find Bridget.”
“What if the plague’s got her?”
“Then I must know. You stay here and pack my things. Tell anyone who asks for me that I’ve gone downstairs or upstairs. Tell them anything, but stall them.”
In the courtyard, grooms were leading horses from the stable. The smaller coach Elizabeth had just used was pulled behind the big one, and a stableboy was slipping feed bags over the team’s noses. Elizabeth glanced toward the coachhouse and saw Cain standing in the doorway.
“Robert,” she called to the footman. “Come with me.” He followed her into the shadowy coach house, empty now except for the mule litter. That conveyance had been covered with canvas for storage. Cain was standing motionless a few feet from the door. He stared at Elizabeth without speaking.
“Savage, Robert,” she said, addressing the two men, “Bridget hasn’t returned. We must go and fetch her. We’ll need horses, Robert. Have them saddled at once. You can show me where you took Bridget to meet her sister.”
“The Indian can’t ride, m’lady,” Robert said. “The head groom has been trying to teach him, but I doubt he can manage a horse on the city streets.”
Elizabeth looked at Cain, and he shook his head. “He can ride behind you, then,” she said. “We’ll take Star and one of the geldings. Bridget can ride behind me on the way back. You can ride, can’t you, Robert?”
“Aye, lady. I was raised on a farm.” He shifted his feet nervously. “I’m more ’n willing to go for Bridget, but it’s getting dark. The streets are no place for a lady without a proper escort. You’d best—”
“Fetch the animals. I’ll answer to Lord Dunmore when Bridget’s safely home.”
As darkness fell over the courtyard, it was easy for Elizabeth and her party to slip from the stables unnoticed. The only servant who questioned Robert’s appropriation of the riding horses was Tom, the groom, and Robert quickly enlisted him to join the expedition.
Elizabeth took pains not to look at Cain as they rode through the narrow city streets to the tenements near St. Giles. So far, none of the servants except Betty and Bridget knew of their involvement. Both maids were loyal, but she knew it would be only a matter of time before someone else on the staff discovered her secret. Until then, she must pretend to ignore Cain, and he must do the same to her.
Without incident, they reached the house where Maureen and Sean had been living. Sean answered Robert’s urgent knock, and to Elizabeth’s relief, Bridget came out immediately.
“Oh, m’lady,” Bridget cried, “I’m sorry I didn’t come when I promised. Maureen was taken ill, and I’ve been tendin’ her. I didn’t dare leave her side to tell ye, and I couldn’t convince Sean to go either.”
“Maureen’s ill?” Elizabeth replied. “She’s not taken the plague, has she?”
“No, m’lady. To tell God’s truth, we were makin’ a bit merry, and she slipped a child. The bleedin’s stopped and her fever’s down. I can go wi’ ye wi’ a free heart. Sean can tend her well enough now. If ye’ll just give me time to gather me things and wish her goodbye.”
“Robert.” Elizabeth motioned to him, and the footman came to take the bundle she had tied to her saddle. “I was afraid you might have taken ill,” she explained to Bridget. “There are clean cloths, herbs, and a bottle of chicken broth in here. Your sister may as well have them.”
“Thank ye, yer ladyship,” Sean said. He was a tall, dark-haired Irish farm boy with big hands and feet. “ ’Tis kind o’ ye to think o’ Maureen. We’re grateful fer yer weddin’ gift too.”
“Care for her well,” Elizabeth replied. “If she’s anything like Bridget, she’ll make you a good wife.”
In minutes, Bridget was mounted pillion behind Robert. “To spare the animal Savage’s greater weight, m’lady,” Robert had suggested. Cain swung up behind the groom Tom, and Elizabeth guided her own mount back the way they had come.
They had gone only a short distance when they found their path blocked by a house fire. Confusion reigned as neighbors aided the stricken family by carrying leather buckets of water to dash on the flames. Part of the burning house had fallen into the street, so there was no chance of getting the horses past the fire.
“We must back up and go around, m’lady,” Robert said. “There’s an alley back a bit. We can take that.”
Robert led the way into the alley, the groom’s horse following closely behind. Elizabeth came last. The alternate route was too narrow for a coach and so dark that Elizabeth could barely make out the tenements on either side of the street. Heavy damp fog lay thick between the houses, muffling the horses’ hoofbeats and distorting what little she could see. The stench that emanated from the dwellings and the street was strong enough to make her wish she’d brought along one of Edward’s perfumed handkerchiefs.
Elizabeth could hear Robert and Bridget talking, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. There were noises all around her: dogs barking, babies wailing, people cursing, and doors slamming, but the everyday sounds seemed more ominous than they did in the daytime. Elizabeth wasn’t certain if it was the fog and blanketing chimney smoke or the closeness of the overhanging houses that made her so uneasy.
Footsteps passed them in the darkness, some quick and others shuffling. She heard the squeals of rodents, and once Elizabeth’s mount stumbled over something heavy that gave beneath her hoof. Star snorted in fear and shied sideways. Startled, Elizabeth fell forward against the mare’s neck and grabbed the mane to steady her seat.
“Are you all right, m’lady?” Robert called.
“Ye
s.” Shaken, Elizabeth wrapped the reins around her wrist. If she fell off, she’d not want to lose her horse and be left afoot here—not even for a moment.
“We’re coming to a wider street,” Robert said.
“Aye, lady, I can see torch lights. It may be the King’s Arms Inn,” Bridget added.
Elizabeth made out the shadowy outline of Robert and Bridget as their horse started across the main street. Suddenly, there was a rumble of wheels, and a heavy wagon pulled by four horses lurched around the corner. The groom reined in his horse, and Elizabeth’s mare stopped short to avoid running into them.
Without warning, several figures leaped from the darkness. Rough hands closed around Elizabeth’s arm and ankle. She screamed and struck out at her attackers, pulling back sharply on the reins to make her mare rear. Something was thrown over her head, and she was dragged from the saddle. Gasping for breath, she fell heavily against a man’s chest. He stumbled back under her weight and cried out in pain as her knee struck his face.
“Whorin’ bitch!” he swore.
Elizabeth ripped the blanket off her head and drove the palm of her hand into her assailant’s nose. He lost his grip, and she rolled onto the cobblestones and scrambled under her horse’s belly.
“Get her!” another voice cried.
Something heavy struck her shoulder and the mare’s hind leg. Star threw herself forward onto her front legs and lashed out with her back hooves. Elizabeth heard a thud and a shriek.
“Jesus! Harry’s down!”
The mare’s reins were still wrapped around Elizabeth’s wrist. As the terrified animal thrashed and threw her head about, Elizabeth thought her arm would be ripped from her socket. “Cain!” she screamed. “Help me!”
Bridget was shouting for the watch. “Robbers! she cried shrilly. “Call the watch! Murder!”
A hand caught hold of Elizabeth’s hair and yanked hard, trying to drag her out from under the horse. She twisted her head and sank her teeth into bare flesh. There was another yell and then her hair was free. Elizabeth grabbed the saddle and tried to pull herself up. Her legs tangled in her skirts, and she fell, then ducked under the mare’s neck and put her back against the wall. She pulled Star tightly against her, so that the animal was between her and the scuffling figures.
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