But James only remembered that Monmouth had tried to take the crown from him. There was no point in delay, he said.
We had reached the town of Dorchester when news was brought to us of Monmouth’s death. He had deserted his army; he had cringed before the King; but once he knew that death was inevitable, he had met it bravely, affirming on the scaffold his adherence to the Church of England. It must have been a gruesome scene because the executioner struck five times before he completely severed the head and brought about the end of the Duke of Monmouth, reckless, ambitious and lacking in principle.
At least he died a brave man.
This was small comfort to my mother.
We came to lodge in an inn in the ancient market town—a busy one, for through it passed the road to Devon and Cornwall. The earthworks, known as Maiden Castle, relic of four thousand years before when the land must have been little more than a forest, brought many people to look at it. But we had no thought of such matters.
My mother, frantic with anxiety, frustrated because she had no idea how to set about the task of freeing my father, was in a desperate state, and the very night we arrived at the inn was smitten with a fever and was delirious. I was really frightened and the next morning sent for a doctor. He came and said she must rest and nothing must be done to disturb her. He gave her a potion to make her sleep.
“You are here because you have a relative prisoner?” he asked.
I nodded.
The doctor shook his head sadly. “Let her sleep as long as you can. It is acute anxiety which has brought this on. I have seen much of this since our town was turned into a court and a shambles.”
I was grateful for his sympathy. I asked myself what I should do. How could I set about this delicate task? To whom did I offer my bribe? I must not run into trouble, for there was my mother to care for.
I was in a state of great anxiety.
When the doctor had left I went down to the inn parlour. I wondered if I could speak to the innkeeper. There might be someone here … someone from the army, perhaps, who could help me. Edwin and Leigh were in the army. It was ironical to think that they might have been fighting against my father had they been in England.
We had at least been saved that.
My grandfather, my mother’s father, now dead, had been General Tolworthy; the Eversleighs were connected with the army, too. Yes, I decided there must be some high-ranking soldier in this town who would be ready to help me.
I came into the inn parlour. A man was sitting there. He was in uniform, so he was a soldier and a high-ranking one. My heart beat fast. My prayers might be about to be answered.
I said, “Good day.”
He turned. I was looking into the face of Beaumont Granville.
A shiver of terror ran down my spine.
I muttered: “I’m sorry. I thought I knew you.”
Then I turned and ran quickly up the stairs.
I was trembling. I felt sick with fear. The nightmare was indeed growing worse.
I looked at my mother lying there sleeping. She was pale and very still. I knelt by the bed and hid my face in the bedclothes.
I felt very apprehensive.
After a few moments I arose. He wouldn’t have recognized me, I assured myself. He had said nothing. I should have to be watchful now. I must keep out of his way.
What evil fate had brought him here to Dorchester? I had not thought of his being a soldier—one of the King’s men. This town was full of soldiers.
I looked at myself in the mirror. I must have changed since those days in Venice. No, he would not have recognized me, for I had hurried from the room almost as soon as he had looked at me.
I sat down and thought of it all—those days in Venice, that night of the ball when he had come very near to kidnapping me, the birth of Carlotta; I thought of Harriet, lively, energetic, relishing a situation which was full of pitfalls.
What can I do? I asked myself.
I felt the situation was growing more and more desperate every minute.
There was a knock at my door. I started up, crying: “Who is there?”
It was the innkeeper.
I opened the door and he stood there with a letter in his hand. “A gentleman asked me to give you this,” he said. I took it and said: “What gentleman?” “He is below, my lady. He awaits an answer.” “Thank you.” I shut the door and listened to his footsteps as he went down the stairs.
For some moments I was afraid to open the letter. Then I took it to the window and read:
I know who you are and why you are here. I think I may be able to help. Will you come down to the inn parlour and discuss this?
Beaumont Granville
I stared at the paper. So he had recognized me. What did it mean? He could help me? My impulse was to tear up the letter.
I stood for a moment hesitating and then I looked at my mother’s face.
I must at least not let the opportunity pass by. All my instincts called out to me not to trust this man. Yet what would I do? I did not know which way to turn. At Eversleigh it had seemed easy enough to say: “Offer a bribe. Others have done so with success. They say Jeffreys is becoming rich out of the Bloody Assizes.” Yet how did one offer a bribe? It was a delicate procedure. It was something which must not be mentioned in actual terms. There would have to be hints. Ways had to be found to give the bribe as though it were not being given at all.
I knew I would see this man. I must. There was no alternative.
I went down to the inn parlour.
He turned as I came in. He was smiling with what I can only call triumph. He rose and bowed low.
“So,” he said, “we meet again.”
“You had something to say to me?”
“Indeed I have. Won’t you sit down? I have told the innkeeper we must not be disturbed.”
I sat down. There was a table between us. I looked into his face. Beau Granville. The name suited him. He had those excessive good looks which had no doubt led him to believe that the world was his for the taking. I guessed he took a great pride in his appearance. His linen was scented with the smell I remembered at once. It was a mingling of musk and sandalwood, perfumes I did not like.
“I know why you are here. Your father is in prison in this town. His trial will be in two days’ time.”
“Two days,” I repeated.
He smiled. He had perfect teeth and clearly liked to show them.
“That gives us a little time,” he said.
“Yes,” I answered quietly.
“I could help you, you know.”
“How?”
He lifted his shoulders. “My country estate is on the edge of this town. I know the judge well. I have often entertained him here. I believe that a word from me would go a long way.”
“We will pay,” I said eagerly.
He put his hands to his lips. “Do not speak so,” he replied. “It could be dangerous.”
“I know these things are done. I have heard …”
“My dear young lady, you are reckless. If these things are done, then it is natural that they should be, but to speak of them, that is a crime.”
“Please be serious. This is very important to me … to us…”
“Of course. Of course.” He spoke soothingly. “Your father would meet the worst possible fate. He is just the sort my friend dislikes. Given a chance …”
“Please …we will do anything.”
“Will you?”
“We will do anything,” I repeated.
“It will rest with you.”
“What?” I said faintly.
I knew, of course. I saw those eyes, sly, lascivious, assessing me.