“They are coming!” she exclaimed.
The secret door was instantly shut.
Next moment, the room door was thrown open, and Mrs. Wyndham entered, accompanied by the Independent minister, and followed by the two troopers.
“When I tell you that this is Mistress Juliana Coningsby’s room, perhaps a very slight inspection of it will satisfy you,” said Mrs. Wyndham to the minister.
“I am not so sure of that,” he replied. “’Tis likely enough that the malignant whom we seek may be concealed here.”
“You have just been told that it is my room,” cried Juliana, suddenly turning round and facing him.
“That does not make it more unlikely,” observed one of the troopers. “Fair damsels have concealed their lovers before now.”
“Hold thy peace, Hilkiah,” said the minister, gravely. “Thou art come hither to search for a malignant, and not to jest. Do thine office.”
Thus rebuked, Hilkiah and his comrade examined the room most carefully, their proceedings being anxiously watched by the two ladies, though they strove to assume an air of indifference. Finding from the manner in which the men were sounding the panels that the discovery of the closet was inevitable, Mrs. Wyndham thought it better to anticipate it, and, stepping forward, she opened the secret door.
It was an anxious moment for Juliana, but she perceived at a glance that the king had found the movable plank, and used it. The secret closet was empty. The minister gazed into it with a blank expression of countenance.
“Pray examine the place carefully!” cried Mrs. Wyndham, in a taunting tone. “Sound the walls, try the roof and floor — you will find nothing. ’Tis not a hiding-place, but a small room attached to the larger chamber. A moment’s inspection will convince you it has not been occupied.”
The closet was scarcely large enough to hold the minister and the troopers, but they squeezed themselves into it nevertheless, and being thus crowded they could not possibly examine the floor. But, indeed, they had to think of their own deliverance. The secret door closed with a spring, and unable to resist the impulse that prompted her to shut them in, Juliana closed it. A loud laugh from the giddy girl told them they were made prisoners. Mr. Meldrum did not relish the jest, but Mrs. Wyndham and Juliana derided his anger.
The troopers tried to force open the door, but the bolt resisted their efforts. Juliana positively refused to let them out unless they engaged to leave the house at once, and to these conditions they were eventually compelled to submit. On being liberated they all went away looking extremely crestfallen.
Not till it was quite certain that the coast was clear did Juliana venture to intimate to the king that he might come forth from his hiding-place. He did not appear much discomposed, but treated the matter very lightly.
“I have played so often at hide-and-seek of late,” he said, “that I feel certain of coming off the winner. But the game was never better played than it has been just now.”
“I am glad to hear your majesty say so,” observed Juliana.
Careful watch was kept that night at Trent, and the king did not retire to rest for fear of a surprise. However, nothing occurred, and in the morning it was ascertained that the troopers had departed.
In the afternoon, Colonel Wyndham and Careless returned from their expedition, and at once repaired to the king’s chamber.
“All has been most satisfactorily arranged, sire,” said the colonel. “I will give you the details anon. The sum is this. A vessel has been hired by Captain Ellesdon from a trusty shipmaster at Lyme, named Limbry, and your majesty will embark for St. Malo on Monday next at midnight. We have seen the vessel in Lyme port in which you are to sail, and find her all that could be desired. It will be an additional gratification, I am sure, to your majesty to learn that, on our way back, we encountered Lord Wilmot. I invited him to Trent, but he did not deem it prudent to accept the invitation, though he greatly desires to see your majesty.”
“Where is he?” cried Charles. “I will take him with me to St. Malo.”
“I have ventured to anticipate your majesty’s wishes in that respect,” said Careless. “Feeling certain you would desire his company, I promised him a passage, and appointed a place of meeting near Charmouth, on Monday.”
“You have done well,” cried the king. “I shall be glad to have Wilmot with me. Fortune, at length, seems disposed to favour me. In a few days — nay, in a few hours — I shall be out of the reach of my enemies.”
Colonel Wyndham then gave the king full details of the negotiation with Limbry, and his majesty was very much amused by the relation. He was, also, well pleased with the colonel’s description of Captain Ellesdon.
The short interval between the king’s departure was passed very pleasantly by his majesty, and when the day arrived he could not help feeling regret at leaving a place where he had been so happy. As regards female society he could not have been better circumstanced. Three more charming women, each in her way, than those with whom it had been his good fortune to be associated, could scarcely have been found. For Lady Wyndham, whose interest in him seemed quite maternal, he had begun to feel an almost filial regard. The loyal old dame often spoke to him of her three valiant sons who had fallen in his royal father’s cause, and said she accounted their deaths her highest honour.
“I can only replace one of them,” said the king. “But you must look upon me as a son.”
Sunday was the last day on which it was supposed that his majesty would stay at Trent, and it was spent very decorously. Religious service was performed in the king’s room by the Reverend Mr. Langton, and all the company in the house, including Harry Peters and two of the women-servants, were assembled at it. The circumstances gave a special interest to the meeting, and those present on the occasion often called it to mind. The good divine preached an eloquent and stirring discourse that roused the feelings of all who listened to him. His text was taken from Samuel: “And Saul sought David every day; but God delivered him not into his hands.” He spoke of the king’s miraculous escapes from the many and great dangers to which he had been exposed, and showed that he could not thus have been preserved, if he had not been under the care of a watchful Providence. “While the flood of rebellion has covered the face of his kingdom,” he said, “in this ark he has been safely shut up, and here he will remain till his faithful servants have time to work his deliverance. But that day is near at hand. The malicious designs of his adversaries will be frustrated, and he will be restored to his father’s throne. Then shall we all say with the Prophet: My Lord the king is come again in peace to his own house.”
Charles was much moved by the good man’s discourse, and thanked him for it when the service was over.
“As I have just declared, sire,” said Mr. Langton, “the hand of Providence has been clearly manifested in your preservation hitherto, and it will not desert you. Take comfort from the words of the Prophet, for they are very applicable to you: ‘Fear not, for the hand of Saul shall not find thee, and thou shall be king over Israel.’”
* * *
CHAPTER XIII.
HOW CHARLES SET OUT FOR CHARMOUTH.
The day had arrived when it was hoped that his majesty’s deliverance would be accomplished.
After taking leave of Lady Wyndham and her daughter-in-law, Charles mounted his horse, and Juliana, half-crazed with delight, seated herself on the pillion behind him. Colonel Wyndham and Careless were already in the saddle, and attended by the prayers of Mr. Langton, and by the good wishes of all who witnessed their departure, the party set out on their journey. Harry Peters had been sent off beforehand privately, in the hope that the king might be mistaken for him by Mr. Meldrum, should the minister be on the look-out; but the faithful groom joined the party about a mile from the village, and subsequently acted as guide, as they intended to take some cross roads.
Brilliant sunshine cheered them on their way, and brought out the best features of the richly-wooded district through which they journeyed �
�� giving new splendour to the glorious autumnal tints of the foliage, and revealing scenes of rare sylvan beauty. Nothing could have been pleasanter than the ride. Sometimes involved in a thick wood — sometimes pursuing their course on the banks of a clear and beautiful stream — sometimes passing a village remarkable for a noble old church — anon tracking a long valley, hemmed in by lofty hills — now called upon to admire a fine old mansion, situated in the midst of an extensive park — now skirting a lovely lake — anon compelled to quit the valley, and climb a hill which seemed to bar further progress, but which, when its summit was gained, offered a magnificent prospect — through such varied scenes they proceeded pleasantly on their way.
At first, they pursued the same road they had taken on the occasion of the king’s visit to Melbury Park, passing by the foot of Babylon Hill, and tracking the valley of the Yeo; but they then struck off on the right, and proceeded towards Berwick and Sutton Bingham. Avoiding the latter village, they entered a thick wood, through which they were guided by Harry Peters, and on emerging from it skirted Abbots Hill, and crossing two other eminences, came upon a very picturesque district, having a beautiful woody knoll on the right, and a succession of wild holts on the left.
Leaving these woodlands, they passed through a gap in the hills, and shortly afterwards descended into a richly-cultivated and well-watered vale — their road leading them past numerous farm-houses, each possessing a large orchard. Before them the two bold eminences, Lewesdon Hill and Pillesdon Pen, reared their lofty heads, and seemed to bar their further progress. Distinguishable far out at sea, and forming excellent landmarks, these twin heights, from their resemblance to each other, are called by sailors “the Cow and the Calf.” Further on the right was a third remarkable eminence, equally striking in character, and known as Blackdown Hill.
The road taken by the party led them over Pillesdon Pen, and the view from its summit of the towering hill was superb, comprehending the rich vale they had just traversed, with its meadows, orchards, and farms, and the beautiful combes and downs on either side. They then descended into the valley, in which stood Pillesdon, the residence of Sir Hugh Wyndham, the colonel’s uncle, but they did not go near the mansion.
Shortly afterwards they mounted another lofty eminence, on the summit of which was a large and very perfect British encampment, known as Lambert’s Castle. Hence a magnificent view of the sea was commanded.
Aware of what he might expect, Charles rode on in advance of his companions, and when he had reached Lambert’s Castle, and the grand view burst upon him, he looked neither to the right nor to the left, but at the sea.
Yes, there it was at last! There was the sea! Deliverance was at hand! A few hours more, and he should be wafted across that broad expanse to the friendly shore.
So enchanted was he by the sight that he gave vent to his rapture in a joyous shout. Juliana was almost equally excited.
“By this time to-morrow your majesty will be safe in France,” she cried.
“I must not be too confident. The wind is fair now — but it may change. I have had so many disappointments, that I cannot feel quite secure.”
“Nothing is certain, sire — at least, wise people say so. But it seems to me that the chances are a thousand to one in favour of your majesty’s safe embarkation to-night, and therefore you may calculate on arriving at St. Malo to-morrow. The sea itself seems to smile upon you, and promise you a fair passage.”
“Smiles are sometimes treacherous, and promises are often broken,” said Charles. “But I will gladly trust myself to those bright waves.”
At this moment Colonel Wyndham and the others rode up.
“There is a sight to gladden your heart, sire,” exclaimed the colonel.
“Ay, ’tis the pleasantest prospect I have beheld for many a day, Frank. Yet my satisfaction at the hope of immediate escape is not unalloyed. I go into exile. I leave my friends behind me.”
“Your exile will not be long, sire,” rejoined the colonel. “Your friends will soon have you back again.”
“Heaven alone can tell when I shall return — and how I shall return,” rejoined the king. “But return I will.”
“You will return to ascend the throne,” said Juliana.
“I accept the prediction,” said Charles. “Coming from such fair lips it cannot be falsified.”
Riding down the south side of the hill, they shaped their course towards the solitary farm-house, appointed as a place of rendezvous by Captain Ellesdon.
Being now on the open downs, they could no doubt be seen from a distance, for a horseman was descried galloping towards them. At first, the king thought it must be Captain Ellesdon, but as the horseman drew nearer, his majesty easily recognised Lord Wilmot, who had appointed to meet him at this place, and had been waiting for him for some time.
A very affectionate greeting took place between the king and his friend, and the latter, after briefly recounting his adventures since they separated, gave his majesty many particulars respecting his devoted partisans. The intelligence that most deeply interested Charles related to the Earl of Derby, who, it appeared, was now a prisoner in Chester Castle, and had been condemned to lose his head. Lord Wilmot himself had been in great danger, but had contrived to escape capture.
This conference lasted for some time, and the king had been so deeply engrossed by Lord Wilmot’s narration, that he quite forgot the presence of Juliana, who had listened to the recital in terror.
When Lord Wilmot had finished his sad tidings, Charles remained for some minutes lost in painful reflection, and during this time no one ventured to disturb him. At length, a slight movement on the part of Juliana recalled him to himself. Starting as if aroused from a painful dream, he rode on towards the farm-house, which was only a mile distant.
Captain Ellesdon had been for some hours at the place of rendezvous, and, made aware of the approach of the royal party, stationed himself at the gate to receive the king.
* * *
CHAPTER XIV.
HOW THE KING AND JULIANA WERE RECEIVED BY DAME SWAN.
Lonesome was a substantial farm-house, with whitewashed walls and a thatched roof, and being a dairy-farm, at which the best double Dorset blue-mould cheeses were made, it had large cow-sheds and other outbuildings attached to it, and its comfortable appearance was heightened by a very extensive orchard, the trees of which were still heavily laden with fruit.
Captain Ellesdon did not dare to make a reverence to his majesty on his arrival, lest he should be noticed by the fanning men, who naturally came forward to look at the party, and take charge of the horses, but while assisting Juliana to alight, he had an opportunity of saying a few words to the king, and later on, he had a private conference with his majesty. Charles thanked him most warmly for the important service he had rendered him — a service, he declared, that could not adequately be rewarded — and to these gracious observations Captain Ellesdon made a fitting response; adding, that he was most happy to inform his majesty that everything was going on well. Not an hour ago, he had seen Limbry, and had learnt that the Eider Duck was already victualled, and out of the Cobb, and would be quite ready to set sail at midnight, as soon as the passengers were on board.
“The seamen have been given to understand,” pursued Captain Ellesdon, “that the reason why the passengers embark at Charmouth at such an unseasonable hour, and not at Lyme, is, that they fear an arrest, their factor at St. Malo having detained their goods, which they trust to recover by appearing in person against him. With this explanation the seamen are perfectly satisfied, and a few gold pieces on your majesty’s arrival at St. Malo will effectually seal their lips. As the wind is fair, I think your majesty may calculate on a prosperous voyage. You have no doubt been informed that a large fair is held in Lyme to-day. Advantage has been taken of the meeting by the mayor of the town to publicly read the Proclamation made by the Men of Westminster offering a reward of a Thousand Pounds for the discovery of your majesty, with the penalty of death ag
ainst all who shall conceal you. I am rejoiced to think that the Eider Duck is out of port, so that the seamen will not be likely to hear of the notice; and I am still better pleased to find that our staunch shipmaster appears to care little about it. Your majesty will be off before any mischief can be done. As it turns out, it would have been quite impossible for you to embark at Lyme, since Captain Macy has just arrived there with a regiment of horse, and his men are spread about the town, and the inns and ale-houses are full of them. I must also put your majesty on your guard against Reuben Rufford, the ostler at the little inn at Charmouth. He is a Roundhead, and a notorious knave, as I have discovered.”
“I will observe all due caution in regard to the rascal,” said the king. “But as my stay at Charmouth will be so short, I do not think there is much to fear from him.”
Some further conversation then took place, at the close of which the king reiterated his thanks to Captain Ellesdon, and presented him with a piece of gold, through which a hole had been drilled, so that it could be worn, bidding him keep it as an earnest of what he would do for him hereafter, should better days arrive.
“Most assuredly those days will arrive, sire,” said the captain; “but I desire no greater reward for my services than that which I have now received. I shall always wear this medal next my heart.”
There being nothing to detain him longer at the farm-house, the king now gave the word for departure, and all his attendants mounted their horses. Captain Ellesdon rode by his majesty’s side, and conducted him to the summit of the steep hill that rises between Charmouth and Lyme; pointing out the Eider Duck, lying off the mouth of the Cobb, as well as the exact spot where it had been arranged that the long-boat should fetch his majesty and his companions at midnight.
From this elevated point Lyme seemed immediately beneath them, and the king could clearly perceive the crowd in the principal street, as well as hear the shouts and other noises that arose from the fair. Amid the throng he noticed that many red-coats were mingled. From the church tower floated the flag of the Commonwealth.
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 682
