Prue Phillipson - Hordens of Horden Hall (33 page)

He shook his head. “I am deceived in them all. As a family member, could he not have told the men who compile these lists that we are not and never have been Papists? I believe he will have shown them a copy of this letter to prove that he has divorced himself utterly from any connection with us. He is buying and selling for them. He is making money from the war. But oh, Bella, how can I secure your future? This blow will kill
me
but you are only sixteen – a young woman cast alone into a hostile world. How are you ever to be married?”

Bel sat down again beside him. Now that there was no barrier between them of the looming wedding, she felt wonderfully free and very close to him. “I am only thankful to have nothing to do with men. I am content just to be with you, Father.” As she had helped him with her interest in husbandry perhaps she could also help him over an appeal. “May I read the letter?” she asked.

He nodded and she glanced quickly through it. The tone was regretful but patronising. Father’s foolishness had jeopardised his whole property, which now had no value on the open market. Sir John could not fulfil their bargain; therefore it was at an end. Clifford was sorry that the Northumberland Hordens had taken a stand against the cause of the lawful Parliament of England to which he and his family were devoted and so there could be no further communication between them.

Bel felt free to hate and despise the lot of them when she read this, though she had an inkling that neither Celia nor William would have sent such a letter. There would at least have been some reference to herself, some message of good will. But there were no hypocritical courtesies from Clifford. Father was probably right that he would show a copy of the letter to his Parliamentary friends, so that his name would not be tainted by association.

She laid down the letter. “He deserves no reply. Father, let us go to Newcastle and see what the authorities there say about this sequestration. Surely all is being decided now by force of arms. Newcastle is for the King. How can any Parliamentary writ run there? Could we not ask for a troop of horse to defend us against any attempt to seize the Hall and the land?”

He smiled wanly and took hold of her hand. “You should have been a son. This is how my son should speak. I wish I had your health and energy. Well, we will go in a day or two if we can borrow horses in the village. So many have been seized for the army.”

“Can we take Ursula? She and I could ride together. After this I fear for her, left in the house.”

“She would be a burden. She can hide in Nurse’s cottage.”

“Oh, no, Father. I mean, they would look there.”

“In the village then?”

“I trust no one. Let her come. It gives us status. A young lady should travel with her maid.”

He sighed. She could see he was too tired to argue. “Oh very well. I will send Tom to see if he can procure horses and saddles. She can ride pillion behind you.”

Bel lifted his hand which still clasped hers and putting it to her lips kissed it.

She decided not to show him Henrietta’s letter just now. She doubted if he could take it in, but she put it carefully away in her writing case. There was comfort in the knowledge that she had, after all, a sister.

CHAPTER 17

Nat had no travel pass for his journey from Yorkshire, but he carried the one from his College and hoped it would not be examined too closely. Before he left, his father had prayed for his safety and given him his blessing. Nat felt his anxiety at parting from him again so soon. What astonished him was to find his mother up when he went to say goodbye to her. She was in her nightgown with a shawl close about her and sitting on the window-seat. He could tell there were heavy bandages about her right leg which was so swollen she could not wear a slipper on her foot, but his Father said a great deal of discharge had come from it in the night and she had determined to watch Nat set off.

“I never thought this day would come,” she said to him. “I thought the University had swallowed you up for ever under its mountains of books. But maybe you are a man after all. Now go and do your duty to your brother. I will wave to you and go back to bed. I do not wish to die before you return with my blessed Daniel’s body and the deed accomplished, but the Lord’s will be done.”

Nat had been to see Sir Bertram Lauder, the Squire, the night before and he had generously lent him a horse from his stables and also written a letter for him, saying he was on family business with his approval.

“But for God’s sake bring Jed back, Nathaniel. He is a good mount and will take you there in two days. I have been stripped of most of my horse and cattle.”

Nat turned at the church and looked up at the windows of the vicarage. There she was waving her arm. What a transformation from all those days he had set off to Cambridge! His father said the pain of the dog bite had roused her from her apathy. She was aware of the doctor lancing her swollen leg. She had heard him ask if the son was returning soon, as she was not likely to survive the fever. So she had been alert to Nat’s expected arrival and all her mind seemed to focus on what he must do then.

“But she has spoken of my bringing back Daniel’s body. How can I do that, Father?” Nat had asked. “You inquired and there seemed to be no record of his burial.”

His father shook his head. “Nat, I do not believe she will be living when you return. I am certain this sudden spurt of energy will sap her last strength. Just go and the Lord be with you.”

Now that he was riding northward through the fresh Spring green of the countryside Nat had leisure to wonder how it would be if he tracked down the Horden family and whether there was even a grain of hope that he could find out Daniel’s burying place after all this time. He had only funds enough for the journey and nothing to spare to pay for the return of a body. Let her think it possible. Perhaps she would not be alive when he returned, if indeed he managed the hazards of the journey.

It was two days later on a fine crisp April morning when Bel and her father, with Ursula, set off the four miles to Newcastle. They had no documents to see them safely past patrols, but Sir John had in his pocket book the letter from Clifford Horden.

Bel had had to rouse him that morning and he said he had lain long awake the night before anxious for her future. Now he looked almost too frail for the trying business of the day. The chill air set him coughing and Bel insisted on him tying a woollen scarf over his mouth before he mounted.

Bel herself was in a state of excitement. This was a mission in which she was determined to play an active part. She was ready to confront any authority on the justice of their cause and framed passionate arguments as they rode along. Ursula, unused to horses, clung onto her and said nothing, so Bel guessed she was frightened but would not want to distress her by admitting it.

Their own track joined the road south leading to the Pilgrim Gate of the town and soon they began to meet small troops of soldiers. Bel was sorry that they always addressed her father, demanding to know his business. When she called out that they were lawful citizens seeking justice, he turned round and silenced her with a frown.The soldiers were all Royalist and were willing enough to let them through, though one rough-looking group without an officer leered at Bel. Ursula in her bonnet kept her face hidden against Bel’s back.

The officer of the last patrol they met volunteered to escort them to the Pilgrim Gate so that they would not be shot at accidentally from the walls. He spoke with the officer on the gate and learnt that the Mayor and Aldermen were at a funeral at the Church of St Nicholas, but if Sir John and his party made their way there they could speak to him presently.

Bel from the vantage of horseback took her chance to look about her as they clip-clopped the length of Pilgrim Street, lined by very elegant houses. When they had been to hear the Puritan preacher, they had approached the town through the Sandgate, a much poorer area of dense housing by the river and from there had mounted to a different church where she had been told that the Kingdom of Heaven was for ever closed to her. Her memory of that church was how large and intimidating it had seemed, but when they reached St Nicholas her father told her this was the largest in the town. She gazed up at it and thought it the finest building she had ever seen.

“We must stable our mounts,” he said, “for I know not how long I will be closeted with the Mayor, if indeed he is the official who should send a petition to Parliament on my behalf. I have no hope that he has powers himself to help me.”

Bel was alarmed at her father’s use of “I” and “me”. Was she not to accompany him?

They found a hostelry in a back street prepared to stable their horses and Ursula dismounted with relief.

“Eh, Bel, my precious, it’s good to be on firm ground,” she laughed with relief and stamped her feet.

They walked back to the church as the congregation was dispersing.

Bel soon spotted the Mayor and was boldly making her way to him when her father seized her arm.

“I met him over the Patrick Dawson affair last autumn,” he reminded her. “He will remember the circumstances. He knows I never welcomed the man. You and Ursula can take a walk or stay in the Church. If you do walk, return to the church in an hour and wait for me there. Be careful to keep in main thoroughfares where people are going quietly about their business.”

“But I wanted to help you, Father.”

He shook his head. “Men’s work. There, I can catch him. He is disengaged for a moment.” And he pushed his way through the people to the Mayor’s side.

“Well, Urs, we are dismissed.” Bel was hurt and angry. “Why did God make me a woman? We will go down and look at the river. It must be that way.”

Ursula gave her a comforting smile and held her hand, keeping her head bent down to avoid stares. Bel forgot her anger in pity that she missed so much. They came to the wide river and for an hour she could watch the soldiers patrolling the bridge and on the water the coming and going of the keels that carried the coal to the colliers moored downstream. There was so much to see, but at last she said, “I suppose we should be finding our way back to the Church. That narrow street called The Side that we came down was very steep and it will be hard work for you going back.”

Ursula just grinned her twisted grin and scuttled up it as easily as Bel.

There was no sign of Sir John in the Close around the church, so they went in and sat down. Although there were people walking about it was quiet, and Bel studied the pillars and vaulted roof with a sense of awe but when she tried to copy Ursula in praying she found nothing would come, either for the souls of her brother and her baby niece or more immediately for her father’s health and his present enterprise. She wanted to be in the centre of things, not waiting to see what would happen.

The hour had long since gone and she was feeling very hungry when a liveried serving-man stopped beside her.

“Excuse me, my lady. Are you the daughter of Sir John Horden?”

Bel jumped up. “Has my father sent for me?”

He made a rueful face. “He is not well, my lady. If you will follow me ...”

Ursula, head tucked down, trotted behind.

Bel was not too anxious. She was remembering how tired her father was even
before
their ride. Talking will have brought on his cough and he needs me to speak for him. She was thankful to have a part to play at last.

She was surprised to find that after only a few minutes’ walking they were entering not a municipal building of some sort but a tall stone house in Pilgrim Street. The footman led them straight up the stair and Bel had an impression of glossy wood everywhere in the wainscoting, the bulbous balusters and the polished floors. The owner must be well-to-do, although they had come straight up a few steps from the street. Bel was unfamiliar with grand houses which had no land about them.

They passed the door of a long drawing-room with windows onto the street and turned a corner of the upper hall to a closed door. She began to feel apprehensive.

Before knocking the footman said, “Your maid could remain below.”

Bel turned and grasped Ursula’s hand. “No, no, please.” The man must think Ursula’s bonnet very odd but in the dim light he hadn’t noticed her face. He inclined his head and tapped at the door.

A lady opened it. “Ah, is this his daughter come?” Bel heard her say.

The footman nodded and retreated. The lady who was of middle-age and dressed in an elegant day gown stood aside. Behind her, Bel saw an elaborately carved four-poster bed and on it lay her father, whiter than she had ever seen him and with his eyes closed.

“Oh,” she gasped. “Is he dead?”

The lady took her hand. “No, no, my dear. Resting. We brought him here when he became ill since our house was close by. My husband is Alderman Johnson; he was with the Mayor at St Nicholas. They were listening to your father when he took a fit of coughing. Then he brought up blood and a doctor in the crowd said he must lie down at once. With support he was able to get as far as this, but he seemed very weak afterwards. He was able after a glass of wine to describe you and your maid to us and tell us you would be in the church. Now, pray sit down by him and I will send you up some refreshment.” She touched Ursula’s arm and added, “If you will come down to the kitchen, you will find the servants just having their dinner and you are welcome to join them.”