Leigh had always joked about being the elder of the two. He was, by a few weeks.
I think I admired Leigh more than anyone I knew, and I was gratified whenever he showed a special feeling for me.
We reached the house at about five o’clock. It was already dark and we went in as quietly as we could. Like a company of conspirators.
Ellen looked at the empty basket.
“So you finished off every crumb?” she said.
“It was the finest mutton pie you ever made, Ellen,” said Carl.
“Then it was wasted on you,” she retorted. “It wasn’t mutton, it was pigeon.”
A small thing, but it was an indication of how careful we must be.
Sally Nullens was fussing round Carl.
“And I hope you didn’t hang about on the beach, Master Carl. If that wind gets down in your chest …”
“Oh, we didn’t go on the beach.”
“So you didn’t go on the beach, then?”
“Only just to look at it as we went along the way.”
“And you didn’t sit on the shingle? Then what’s this seaweed stain on your jacket, eh?”
Carl was embarrassed. “Well, perhaps we did sit a little bit.”
He was looking at me appealingly.
I said: “You’re always dreaming, Carl. Of course we were on the beach for a while.”
Then there was old Jasper.
“Someone’s been trampling on those new trees I put in. Well nigh broke them saplings in halves. Godless lot.”
I was thankful that Jocelyn was safely away from the house.
I went up to my room and I didn’t have to wait there long before there was a tap on the door. Leigh came in.
He grinned at me. “I shouldn’t come into a lady’s bedroom, should I? Oh, but this is only my little sister, so all would be forgiven, even by old Philpots, I reckon.”
“Don’t be foolish,” I said. “What do you want?”
He was serious immediately. “I thought I’d talk it over with you first.”
The waves of inexplicable anger which his reference to me as his little sister had aroused were swept away because I was his chosen confidante.
“After all,” he said, “you know her better than any of us really … even better than I do.”
“Who?”
“Harriet. My mother.”
“Harriet! But where does she come into this?”
“I thought she might help us. She’s the only one I can think of who would snap her fingers at the risk. And we are taking a great risk, Priscilla. What we have done could bring trouble on the whole of the family.”
“What else could we have done?” I thought of Jocelyn Frinton, so handsome he had been, and his warm looks had been rather specially for me. I would have risked a great deal for him. But I saw what Leigh meant. We had to think of the family.
“I’ve been turning it over in my mind but I didn’t want to say anything until I had talked it over with you. I thought of going over to Harriet and asking her if she would help. If she will, this is what I plan. Jocelyn calls on her. He will be an actor whom she knew in London … or somewhere. He will be John … Fellows … or something like that. We’ll keep the initials. That is always wise. She does have a lot of odd people calling on her from time to time and no one would take very much notice of a new one. Nor would they think it strange that he turned up like that. She could keep him there for a while. She might make him act a bit in one of those plays she is always arranging. He would be more safely hidden in the open as it were than in some cave where he has to be fed from our end. Besides, it would be desperately uncomfortable for him if the weather turned cold. Now what do you think of this?”
“Oh, Leigh, I think it’s a wonderful idea.”
“Do you think she would agree?”
“I’m sure she would. She loves intrigue and she hates intolerance. I am sure Titus Oates is just the sort of person she would dislike most.”
“I’m glad you agree. What I propose is this. I ride over to see my mother. I shall have to be gone a week. It takes two days at least to get there … and two days back. You can be sure that I shall not stay longer than necessary. In the meantime the rest of you must keep Frinton hidden and get food to him somehow. You’ll have to be careful. I shouldn’t like him to be around when your parents return. I think your father might well smell a rat.”
“It’s a wonderful idea. I am sure Harriet will help. When will you leave?”
“Today. There’s no time to lose. I really do want to get him out of the cave. I think I shall leave immediately. You can explain to the others.”
“I don’t think I shall let Carl into the secret,” I said. “He means well but he could betray something unwittingly.”
“Good idea!” He put his hands on my shoulders and kissed me. “I knew I could rely on my little sister.”
“Oh, yes, and, Leigh, there is one thing more.”
“What’s that?”
“I am neither particularly little, nor am I your little sister.”
He grinned at me. “I’ll make a note of that,” he said.
Within an hour he was on his way to Eyot Abbas, his mother’s country home in Sussex, and we were all praying that Harriet might be at home and not, as she so much enjoyed doing, be on a visit to London. Harriet was not exactly a countrywoman; she liked the pleasures of Court, fine clothes, masculine admiration and above all the theatre; and as her doting husband, Sir Gregory Stevens, who, before he had inherited his title and estates, had been tutor to Leigh and Edwin (and it was at Eversleigh Court where he and Harriet had first met), always did exactly as she asked, there was a strong possibility that she would not be at home. If that were so, Leigh would have to go to London to see her, which would mean another week’s delay at least.
Several days passed. We arranged that one of us took food to Jocelyn each day and did our best to keep his spirits up. He was embarrassingly grateful—especially to me—and he said that he regarded me as his saviour. I pointed out to him that Leigh was the one who was in charge of everything. We were all longing for him to come back.
There were constant alarms during those days. Carl was caught sneaking out of the kitchen with a large piece of cold bacon. Ellen said the boy had become a thief and anyone would think he was starved. The bacon was taken from him and I could see that henceforth Ellen’s sharp eyes would watch the victuals.
Leigh had been away a week. December had come and it was going to be a hard winter, they said. Sally Nullens could feel it in her bones, and they never lied, she added ominously. We had had no snow yet but the rain fell incessantly. Jasper said that there was more of it to come—cloudfuls of it. It wouldn’t surprise him if we were in for another flood. The world was wicked enough for God to want to drown it.
“He’d tell you,” I said ironically, “and in good time so that you could prepare your ark to save the righteous. There wouldn’t be many. You would be the only one to qualify, Jasper.”
He looked at me under his shaggy eyebrows. He believed I would be one of the first destined for hell fire. The Lord did not like a woman’s saucy tongue, he told me; and Ellen was always disturbed when—as she said—I came back “pat” with an answer for him. But at that time she was worrying about the disappearance of the remains of a tansy pudding to which she had been looking forward.
“They’ll feel the vengeance of the Lord,” said Jasper. “The whole boiling of them! I reckon Master Titus Oates be bringing a few of them to their just deserts.”
In the ordinary way I should have challenged that. But I realized we were getting onto dangerous ground.
I was thinking of that scene in the kitchen as I rode over to White Cliff Cave. The rain, prophesied by Sally Nullens’s bones, had started to fall. Sally was full of old lore. “I saw the cat washing his face and ears extra well,” she had said, “and bless me if he didn’t lie on his brain.