The Lady in the Tower (25 page)

‘I was very pleased with Walter, of course.’

‘And how pleased were you with your other pupil?’

The castellan looked puzzled.

‘The final against Stanton?’ I prompted him, enjoying the way his eyes widened as he tried to take in what I was telling him.

‘Mistress Eleanor, that was not you,’ he said uncertainly.

‘Johnson, it was,’ I assured him. ‘My cousin was too injured to ride the last heat. I took his place.’

I pulled up my sleeve to reveal the cut on my arm, healing nicely now.

He gasped.

‘I never dreamed … Mistress Eleanor, you were magnificent.’

I felt myself glow with his rare praise.

At that moment, Mother emerged, dressed in Maria’s gown, hood, and veil. I thought she looked like Maria. Thinner, of course, but I trusted the guards at the gate would not notice.

The castellan led us swiftly to the stables where two horses awaited us already saddled and bridled. Our cloaks were also awaiting us there. They would be very necessary in such weather.

There were grooms working in the stables but none spared us much more than a cursory glance. If they wondered at us at all, it was why we were riding out in the pouring rain. They did not appear to question our identity.

One of the waiting horses was Beau, the other one of my father’s hunters, an ugly, large-boned animal, strong but steady. Tom was tightening the girths as we entered the stable, and grinned at me.

‘Your father owes you a horse, I reckon,’ he said quietly. He bowed awkwardly to my mother and offered her a leg up onto Beau. I looked at my mount, taking in his raw, inelegant appearance, and felt a rush of sadness for Arianna as well as a stab of resentment towards Stanton who had taken her from me. The castellan offered to throw me up in the saddle. I hesitated.

‘Tom,’ I asked, ‘why is this unspeakable animal wearing a side-saddle?’

The castellan replied for Tom: ‘On my orders,’ he said. ‘I considered it sensible to make a good impression on your aunt.’

‘How did you know my aunt was coming? You told me you cannot read.’

‘True.’ The castellan gave me a quick smile. ‘But I had a long talk with your aunt’s groom when he brought the letter.’

Once I was seated awkwardly in the strange saddle and arranging my skirts, the castellan patted the saddle bags behind me. ‘Betsey’s packed you enough food for half of Bath,’ he said in a low voice.

I found that all this kindness brought tears to my eyes as my suffering here had never done. I leaned down and grasped Johnson’s hand. ‘Thank you,’ I said tremulously. ‘Thank you to everyone who has helped us.’

‘Something tells me you have courage enough for this,’ he replied with a tight smile. ‘Travel safely.’ The castellan turned to Mother.

‘God bless you, my lady,’ he said. ‘That’s a brave daughter you have.’

‘Thank you, Johnson,’ she replied faintly.

As we prepared to ride out the castellan forestalled us: ‘Just let me go and chat to my lads on the gate. If I greet your ladyship as Mistress Maria, they will not question you leaving.’

We watched as he strolled over to the gatehouse and began to exchange idle conversation with the guards. As I turned my horse towards the gate, I reached down and gripped Tom’s shoulder. I said nothing, but we exchanged a long look. I hoped he knew how sorry I was to leave him, though I found I could not say it.

Passing through the gatehouse and crossing the drawbridge should have been the moment of greatest risk. But the castellan’s presence robbed it of danger. The guards would not question us if he did not.

He bowed to us as we passed and called, ‘Ride safely, Mistress Maria, Mistress Eleanor! You will get very wet, I fear!’

The guards stood to attention and let us pass without question. Our horses’ hooves clumped over the wooden drawbridge for the last time. As we crossed, I leaned out and dropped the chaplain’s keys into the moat. They fell into the water with a satisfying splash. And then we were free, riding along towards the Bath Road in the pouring rain.

We rode in silence at first, with many anxious backward glances. I could scarcely believe that no one was following us. At last, after a mile or so, my mother spoke:

‘Have we succeeded, Eleanor?’ she asked cautiously. ‘It seems scarcely possible that it could be so easy.’

‘Easy?’ I thought of the fight with the chaplain and how I had locked Maria in my room. ‘Did you say
easy
?’ I threw back my head and laughed, overwhelming relief mixed with my joy. The rain poured down into my face, the heavy drops splashing onto me and running into my mouth.

‘We’re free!’ I shouted, startling my horse. ‘We’ve done it. But, Mother—I would not have called that easy.’

She regarded me with some surprise, which made me laugh all the more.

‘We had many kind helpers,’ I said, once my mirth subsided. ‘I did not realize how many of the staff were loyal to you rather than to Sir Walter.’

‘Nor I, indeed,’ sighed Mother. ‘And the good villagers too. They all heard about our escape to the priory, you know. I was sent so much food that I could not eat it all.’

‘How kind,’ I said touched. ‘I was so afraid that you would starve once I was locked up too.’

‘So was I. I was certain you would be imprisoned, after that night, and I have feared greatly for you.’

‘But as you can see, I am quite well.’

We smiled happily at one another, and Mother leaned over and took my hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze.

I related to Mother how Dr Horde had sought out my aunt and told her our plight. Mother exclaimed, and shed tears of gratitude.

‘Does Jane know we ride to meet her?’ she asked at length.

‘There was no time to write. And indeed, she did not give me her direction in Bath. But she said she was coming to Farleigh today and asked us to try and meet her upon the road.’

‘But, Eleanor, what if we should miss her? Or if she does not set out in such weather?’ I saw there was a worried crease in her brow, and I hastened to reassure her.

‘We cannot miss her. She will be coming along this road,’ I said confidently.

‘Eleanor,’ began Mother hesitantly, ‘do you … have any money?’

I shook my head. ‘No, none. But I have a few things we could sell. This gold necklace for one.’ I showed the gift Maria had given me. ‘Do not fear, Mother. I shall take care of you.’

Mother gave a small laugh. ‘Indeed, ’tis I who should be taking care of you,’ she murmured sadly.

We rode towards Bath for another half an hour or so. The horses slipped and slithered down the long descent into Limpley Stoke, struggling to hold their footing. Often they sank into the mud and freed themselves with difficulty. I began to fear one of them might cast a shoe, and began looking out ever more anxiously for my aunt. There was no one on the road today, however. Anyone who had any choice had not set out in such weather. Although I said nothing to Mother, I began to feel uneasy. Despite my assurances, I had no idea how we would go about searching for my aunt in an unknown city.

The rain had penetrated our cloaks now, and I could feel ice-cold trickles running down the back of my neck. My hair was plastered to my head. I could see Mother’s clothes were drenched through. I felt a stab of anxiety for her. I knew her health was not strong. She had thrown back Maria’s veil, and the rain was streaming down her face.

‘What is it like?’ I asked, breaking a long silence. ‘To feel the rain and the wind again after so many years indoors?’

‘If you had asked me an hour ago,’ Mother replied, ‘I would have said it was like a taste of heaven. But now, I must confess to being soaked through. I shall look forward to a warm fire at our journey’s end.’

We reached the ford at the bottom of the hill, and I rode my horse cautiously out into it.

‘The water is higher than usual, Mother,’ I called over the rush of the river. ‘But it is safe to cross.’

Mother urged the reluctant Beau out into the water. The horses surged up the bank on the far side and we began the ascent.

‘This is the last real hill before Bath,’ I said encouragingly to Mother. At the top there were wonderful views of the valley spread out below us, with neatly cultivated fields and wooded hillsides, vividly green in all their summer finery. I could see Mother drinking in the beauty of the view.

While we lingered, two horses appeared around the bend of the road. I had not heard them, and there was no time to hide in case it was someone we knew.

‘Mother, pull down your veil,’ I said. She did so at once.

I looked at the riders and my heart leapt into my mouth. One was a servant, but the other I recognized instantly.

‘Well met, my dear Eleanor. Whither away? And in such weather too!’

‘Lord Stanton.’ I bowed stiffly. I could feel myself going hot and cold with shock. Lord Stanton was bowing to Mother, and he was looking slightly puzzled.

‘Good morrow … ah … Mistress Maria?’ he said. Mother bowed and remained silent. This was sensible, but so unlike Maria that I imagined Lord Stanton would be suspicious at once. But it was me he was looking at, his brows raised. I resolved to brazen it out.

‘Mistress Maria has had word her sister is come to Bath,’ I informed him boldly. ‘She is desirous of meeting with her at once. So I offered to accompany her.’

‘Most generous of you, Eleanor. And in such weather too. But is the castle now so thin of company that no one remained to escort two ladies on such a long ride?’

I bit my lip, vexed. I decided to play upon the recklessness he had once accused me of.

‘Indeed we needed nothing so stuffy as a groom trailing after us,’ I scoffed, tossing my head. ‘We will not detain you, sir.’ I bowed slightly by way of farewell and urged my horse forward. It was unfortunate that he chose that moment to miss his footing and stumble into a deep rut. He slipped and floundered before recovering himself. I kept my seat, but it was enough, apparently, for Lord Stanton.

‘Wait!’ he called. I halted again, fuming with vexation. I was desperate to get away from him. ‘I cannot possibly leave you to ride alone,’ Stanton said, wheeling his horse about and coming abreast of me. ‘You would be at the mercy of every scoundrel and thief on the road, and with no one by to help if either of you have an accident. I will be pleased to be your escort.’

There was a note of sincerity in his voice which made me think he was trying to be kind rather than teasing me. But indeed, his kindness could not have been more ill judged. ‘Are you thinking of horse thieves, my lord?’ I asked sharply. ‘Indeed, I believe we may already have met one.’ He did not look as though he understood my allusion, so I continued, saying firmly: ‘Your escort will not be necessary.’ But he was no longer listening. He had turned and was giving orders to his servant to ride on to Farleigh. Mother and I told our horses to walk on, exchanging anxious looks.

‘Who is he?’ Mother mouthed from under her veil.

‘Stanton,’ I breathed back. She looked blank.

Lord Stanton caught us up again and all chance of private conversation was at an end. As he brought his horse alongside mine and smiled, I scowled.

‘What are you doing at Farleigh again so soon?’ I asked.

‘Why, I have come for our wedding tomorrow, Mistress Eleanor. Or had that unimportant event slipped your mind entirely?’ he asked. I heard the sharp intake of Mother’s breath. Stanton heard it too, and turned politely to address her, leaving me no opportunity to retort to his jibe.

‘And which of your sisters will you have the pleasure of seeing in Bath, ma’am?’ he asked. Mother remained silent. I could sense her desperation and hurried into speech.

‘Maria has had a sore throat and has lost her voice,’ I said. ‘I think it was … er … your sister Harriet, was it not, Maria?’

‘Mistress Maria, it was most unwise of you to ride out in the rain with a sore throat,’ said Stanton, earnestly. ‘How could you be so careless of your health?’ I cast him a suspicious look, which he met limpidly, but I could see small creases of amusement about his eyes, and realized that he had guessed at least a part of what we were trying to hide.

‘Do you not fear to become seriously ill?’ Stanton continued, turning back to my mother. ‘You risk an inflammation of the lung at the very least. And there is the danger that you could pass it to your sister, you know. Have you not considered this?’

I realized too late what a stupid lie I had told. I was also sure now that Stanton was amusing himself at my expense once more. Mother remained stubbornly silent.

‘Though of course,’ Stanton continued, ‘you no doubt consider your “sister” quite safe from illness as Mistress Maria has no sisters—only a brother.’

I was stunned into silence. Stanton waited patiently for a response as our horses battled forward through the mud, their hooves squelching and the sodden harness squeaking. I was frantic. I did not trust him. Not for one second. But I had no way of warning Mother.

At length Mother lifted her veil and looked directly at Stanton.

‘I am not Maria,’ she said calmly. ‘I am Lady Elizabeth Hungerford.’

I could not see Stanton’s face as he heard this. Surely he must be surprised. Whoever he expected to be under the veil, it could not have been my mother.