Tapestry (31 page)

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 fortunately 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.’

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.’