PLOT TO WAR

PLOT #2

by

Lee Edgar

Carrie

I do love my Dad. If asked to explain why, I wouldnt be able to find the right words. Somehow, I just know he is the most wonderful person in the whole wide world. But then, I suppose every girl of eighteen thinks the same of her father.

I remember clearly the first time I ever saw him. I was eight years old at the time and had been living with Aunt Elizabeth at Cricksee Hall ever since I had been born. It had been all right at first. But then Uncle Simon had come home from the New World territories and I did not like him at all. He used to smell of drink all the time and would hit me sometimes and I was ever so glad when Dad came home from France.

He arrived at Cricksee Hall late one night and I saw him but didnt know then that he was my dad. He was very dirty and tired but he smiled at me and, even then, I knew he loved me. I was thrilled to bits when he took me away from there to his farm at Moor Hill.

No wonder mum loves him so much. He has a certain something which even does things for me. He is not tall, he is not even particularly good-looking since an accident burned part of his face when he was about my age and he doesnt spoil me like Uncle Simon does his Michael. He is just...something special. Even when my sister Rachel was born some five years ago, his attention towards me never faltered.

Only a year ago I started getting those funny feelings in my tummy when a young man looks at me. There is no one boy in particular; it seems to happen with almost any male between the ages of twenty and twenty-five. At times, it even happens with my dad and he is really old - about forty, I think.

My mother, however, is a little odd. I know she has had some problems, but she can be very strange at times. Not that we differ a lot. In fact, quite the opposite. I tend to call her Sarah because I didnt know she was my real mother until I was quite a big girl. We are the same height and are much the same shape. Her hair is the same length and jet black like mine. Our skin is like ivory. Considering she is old - she must be at least thirty - she is still a young person at heart. I would have thought someone of that age would have had wrinkles by now.

I dont know how she does it. She is up before me in the morning. She then goes into the barn with Dad and they fight. I couldnt believe it at first. Every morning, they get up, go to the barn and then fight each other with swords. Its a wonder one of them doesnt get killed, or at least badly hurt. After that, Sarah then makes porridge for everyone, gets Rachel up for her reading lessons and then starts on the garden. When I get home from working in the fields with Dad, shes still at it - cooking and baking bread - and, in the evening, she sews. Where does she find all the energy?

She is also incredibly strong. I found that out just three years ago. I suppose it was my fault, really; I shouldnt have been so nosy. Dad had built a shower in the yard. It was mother who persuaded him to do it. Something about memories of a waterfall at a place called La Planque in France. He built it out of barrel staves of chestnut wood and he would pump water up to it in the morning and it would get warm in the sunshine. At the end of a hard day's work in the fields, that shower was gorgeous. This particular day, we had finished work together. Naked, we were even more alike. Sarahs belly was a little more rounded where she had carried Rachel and I; otherwise, we were like two peas in a pod. I had become filthy and Sarah scrubbed my back hard to get the grime out. It was super, standing there in that slightly-warm water having my back washed for me and, when I was clean, I had turned to her as she stood there, her hands above her head, rinsing her hair. I had then taken some soap and had begun to gently wash her in return.

I had often noticed some slight blemishes in her skin before, but in the red evening sunlight, they seemed more pronounced. Slowly, I had run my fingers over the scars with the tips of my fingers and then traced the pattern of them across her belly. In surprise, I had looked up to find that her big brown eyes were staring at me.

My mouth opened to say something but her hands came down and encircled my throat. Frantically, I had opened my mouth to cry but her strong fingers sank into my windpipe and my head started spinning. Water poured onto my face as I tried to struggle free, but she was far stronger than I was. I felt no pain, just a wet darkness which dropped gradually over my senses. My knees buckled, but she just held me there, my life slipping away from me.

They say that your life passes before your eyes just as you die. Mine didnt. I just kept asking myself, Why? Why? Why?

When my eyes opened again, I was being held up by Dad and Sarah was clutching at him in tears, crying; Ive killed her. Ive killed my Carrie.

My throat and neck had hurt terribly, but I had reached out my hand and put it round her shoulder. She had looked up and cried even more, clutching at me frantically. Ill never forget Dad as he was that day, standing in the shower, fully clothed, water pouring onto him, as he held onto the two of us. I tried to laugh but my throat wouldnt let me. I would have fallen down then, had Dad not supported me and I had never seen my mother so distraught. But why had she tried to kill me?

That evening, she had gone out. Sarah never went out in the evening so it was most unusual, but Dad didnt seem worried. He had come to my room and lay on my bed next to me and held me tight. After some time, he had started to tell me a story.

Carrie. Do you know what sex is?

I smiled to myself. Who doesnt?

A boy is...different to a girl. He has something that a girl hasnt.

He was being very tactful. Of course boys have something that girls havent. As he talked, my mind went back to when I was about twelve and young Jimmy Pierce had pulled his out and waved it around in front of my friend and me. I also remembered how Mary had grabbed hold of it and pulled it. Poor Jimmy hadnt come to any lessons for a whole week afterwards.

Dad was still speaking. A man has something different because it is to be used to make babies.

I sat up and looked down at him. Dad. I know that you like to believe that I am totally innocent, but I do know what you did to Sarah to make Rachel.

Dad looked shocked. He obviously was wondering what I had been up to but I quickly assured him that I was still as intact as the day I was born. I cuddled his arm and he relaxed again.

Then you know that such an act is only for people who are married, so that they might have children.

He paused and looked at me. I smiled and nodded. I had no intention of getting married for a long time and, in the meantime, no man was going to stick things in me and make babies in my tummy.

Well, he continued carefully. It is time you knew the circumstances of your birth and why Sarah sometimes gets....bitchy.

I laughed at his coarseness, but he had used precisely the right word. She could be marvellous but she could also be horrid. I sat up and hugged my knees, watching my idol carefully. He was so handsome.

You know that I used to be married to your Aunt Elizabeth? he said.

I nodded. I bet dad treated her better that Uncle Simon does now. Do you know? I feel really sorry for Aunt Elizabeth. To have made her choice between Dad and Simon and chosen that slob.

We once had a baby, Elizabeth and I. At least, she was expecting one. But, unfortunately, Elizabeth had a miscarriage and it was your mother who looked after her afterwards. I suppose you could say that Sarah saved her life and they became great friends. For a long time, Elizabeth could not have a child but Sarah offered to bear a child for Elizabeth. You are that child.

Now that clarifies a lot of things. But why would dad have a baby with someone he didnt love? Or perhaps he did love Sarah, even back then.

You were born and Elizabeth looked after you and, in time, Sarah fell in love with my brother. James and Sarah got married and went to live at Hellaby, but James...died and Sarah, your mother, she...ran away. She was heartbroken and didnt know how to find us again. However, she was captured by some very bad men and they did some terrible things to her. He paused as if the memory brought him great pain.

Dont stop now, I thought, just when its getting interesting.

Do you know what I mean by rape, Carrie?

Holding my breath, I slowly nodded. I knew enough to know that it was something bad and painful and that Vikings used to do it.

It is when a man forces himself upon you when you dont want it; when youre not married and dont want to have a baby.

I was shocked. Why on earth would a man want to do a thing like that?

This gang of men, they raped Sarah and they really hurt her very badly - not just in her body but also in her mind.

My mouth must have been open because Dad reached out his hand and closed it for me as he took the corner of the blanket and wiped away the tears from my face. How could people do such things?

They wanted to get pleasure out of her for themselves and when she didnt please them enough, they used to whip her until she bled.

I cried aloud. My poor mother. My poor, poor mother. What had she gone through? No wonder she had scars. No wonder she seemed unreasonable at times. It would be enough to drive anyone crazy. Dad held me very tightly and stroked my hair for a long time while my tears soaked his shirt. Never will I think badly of her again.

When I found her, she was barely alive. A doctor tried to heal her for over a month and thats when we went to France.

I had felt puzzled. Why to France?

The doctor said it was the only way to save her life. He was right. It took four years to get her in good health and then we came home, to England. And to you.

What happened to the men who did this to Sarah?

Dad looked down at the bed and I knew. His look told me. He had killed them.

That was three years ago and, in the meantime, nothing more has happened between Sarah and I. I have never forgotten fathers words that day and I also knew that if anyone ever tried that sort of thing with me, they would get no mercy at all - not the teeniest bit.

Billy

I get quite embarrassed at times. Do you know, Dad and Sarah are like a couple of kids? And the things Sarah gets away with.

She has to have a lot of sun to keep her well. Ive noticed that because her temperament varies with the weather and, if she doesnt get the sun, her patience vanishes completely. So when the sun shines, she spends all the time in it. If theres no work to do, she strips off in the walled garden dad built and lays in the sun.

I dont know much about politics. Dad seems to understand and gets quite upset at times but he is an idealist. He believes there is good in everyone and that people just need the opportunity to show it. When I was a child I used to think the same. But that was before Dad told me about Sarah.

I think that almost strangling me to death that day had jolted something in her mind. Since then, she will often come over to me and cuddle me for no good reason. It is nice. I am very lucky to have such affectionate parents. Not all children in England are as well cared for. Religion and Politics are dividing families all over the country and it is usually the children who suffer.

Uncle Simon is still in the army. He is part of a small group of permanently hired soldiers that had acted as trainers of soldiers. However, very few families in Essex now support King Charles. He has done some pretty strange things recently and it is common knowledge that he has grown to hate the Puritans in Parliament because they keep reminding him of his bad ways.

In Dengy, apart from the small groups of Catholics, we are now almost all Puritan and, at Hellaby in Yorkshire, where the rest of dads family live, they too are Puritan. But in lots of parts of the country there are people who support the King regardless of the things he does, though most of the House of Commons is now made up of representatives who have Puritan inclinations. It must be very difficult not to take sides.

Rachel, at five years old, follows her mother wherever she goes. She is not at all like Sarah but looks more like dad with her wavy, auburn hair. She is a very bright kid, but I suppose being with adults all the time has brought her on quickly. She loves to play in the orchard which dad planted when he first came home. It has apple trees and pear trees and even a cherry tree.

That orchard is now my responsibility. He had originally planted it for me and I love it. In late summer, I collect basket upon basket of fruit and go with my parents to Maldon Market to sell them. My Dad says that now I am eighteen, it is now up to me - I am to earn my keep by means of that orchard. I work very hard in it and the crop is usually quite good. The cherries werent up to much this year because it had not been so sunny but the apples and pears will earn enough to support me.

It was last Autumn at market when I first met Billy and I had the usual butterfly feeling when he had looked at me over his stall where he sold bric-a-brac for his parents. His mother was an invalid and made various kinds of things which he would sell and I went to their stall to buy lace. He told me that his father was sick and thus he was all alone on the stall. He was very busy so I decided to give him a hand until it came time for the fruit auction.

I had never worked with anyone else before, other than my parents. Even Sarahs father doesnt come into the fields any more. He stays around the house and looks after the chickens mostly. Dad was very pleased with the way he looked after the farm while he was in France. He said grandfather now deserved a rest so he lives at Asheldham with my Uncle David and Aunt Rebekkah.

It was quite exciting, seeing all the people buying and selling the fruits of their labours. Billy had his mothers handiwork, an old lady on the next stall had cakes and buns for sale. I had my fruit and, occasionally, we saw Elizabeths younger sister, Dilly, and her family. They still keep chickens and sell their eggs here. Her brother, John, runs Smiths old forge and Johns wife, Gemma, grows vegetables for themselves and for market. We still have horses and my Uncle Peter still looks after them for Dad though he now has his own house at South Minster.

Eventually, it was time for the fruit auctions. As almost everyone now had left the main market area, Billy came with me. Why did I feel so excited? After all, it was only my hand he was holding. We wove through the crowds till we got to the back of the group who were bidding. Various items of produce were displayed and sold and, eventually, the auctioneer came to my baskets of fruits.

So excited was I that I clutched at Billys arm as the bidding started. His blue eyes looked down at me from under straw coloured hair. They had laughter in them and, I suspected, a bit of mischief.

My apples and pears fetched a good price but I was not surprised that the cherries didnt. They were a poor lot. Still, we cant have it all ways.

As the crowds began to disperse, I saw Sarah and Dad with Rachel sitting upon his shoulders. I waved and, as we met near the river wall, I started to introduce Billy and saw his open mouth. He looked from me to Sarah and back again while Sarah and I laughed.

Billy, I said eventually. This is my mother.

Billy still gaped. I grabbed Dads arm. And this is my adorable father.

Dad shook hands with Billy and smiled at us both.

Billy is looking after his parents stall today as his father is ill, I explained. He sells bric-a-brac. Oh, blast!

Dad looked taken aback.

Carrie! said Sarah scoldingly.

Sorry, Mum. I just remembered that I left my lace at Billys stall. I wont be long.

I turned and, before my parents could say any more, I skipped away towards the market. Sarah stood with her hands on her hips, scowling, while Dad smiled and slowly shook his head.

Race you to the stall, I shouted to Billy over my shoulder. I picked up my skirts and slipped between stalls and around people with Billy hot on my heels.

Im sure he let me win, really; he looked capable of very fast work. I leaned against the stall while I got my breath and he stood very close. I looked up at him and his face came towards mine but I ducked under his arm, grabbing my lace and slipping out of his reach, laughing as I went.

What are you going to do with the lace? he called after me.

For the underskirt, I called back, blatantly displaying several inches of petticoat and ankles. I really dont know what came over me.

When can I see you again?

Next week, I called. Ill come with dad next week.

With that, I ran back to where my parents waited patiently. I avoided Sarahs accusing gaze and slipped my hand through Dads arm and looked up at him. He winked.

I do love my Dad.

THAT autumn was a misty one. Every morning the mist was there, covering everything in a dull grey shroud. Dad would stand by the window for ages and gaze out as if dreading the approaching winter. I guess that mist must remind him of something from the past - something which must have happened in these mists of early November.

I saw Billy each week at Maldon Market. His father was very quiet and sad-looking. Quite a contrast to Billy.

So far, I have managed to keep him from getting too close. Why is it that boys always want to be kissing you? I just want us to be friends as I am not yet ready for love and marriage. Im only eighteen and have got years to choose. Billy might be the one, but who knows? I might meet someone more handsome, someone like my Dad.

Billy is all right, I suppose, but I dont want to get serious yet. The thought of him or anyone else touching me like those men touched Sarah horrifies me. Ill stick to Dad, hes safe enough.

It was actually Dad who invited Billy to come to Moor Hill for the weekend. I was quite surprised. Billy came on foot the next Friday afternoon and Sarah made up a bed in what had been Dads old bedroom years ago, when Elizabeths mother, Margaret, was alive.

Snow was in the clouds as Billy walked me through the orchard towards the walled garden while I showed him all my trees and then Sarahs roses and vines. She had worked very hard here during the summer and even now, in early December, it was still a picture of greenery. Christmas roses bloomed alongside the south-facing wall and robins hopped around the lawn. Holly glistened around the gateway.

Dad is up to something but I dont know what it is and I havent been allowed in the study since he came back from Rumford last week. I tried to peek in there on Wednesday but got a very sore bottom from Sarahs wooden spoon for my trouble. She was quite angry that I might spoil some surprise or other. Remembering her mental state, I smiled and apologised. It worked. Thats what dad always does - even when he is right - and it had worked for me. Sarah was her old self again, just as if I had clicked my fingers.

As we passed through the gateway and were hidden from the house, Billy grabbed my arms and swung me around. Before I could turn in that narrow passageway, his lips had found mine. Those butterflies turned into bats as I relaxed in his arms.

It was a mistake. In a flash, his hand was creeping inside my cape. My left is fair, but my right is better and he sat down heavily on the lawn, holding his jaw. I wiped my mouth and then offered him the hand I had hit him with. He took it and stood up, still shaking his head.

Billy, I said pleadingly, I like you very much but please do not do that again - I dont like it. If we cannot be friends without you wanting to grope me all the time, then go home now.

Would you believe it? He tried to kiss me again. He held onto my hands this time, trapping me against the stone gateway. I was about to place my knee where little Jimmy Pierce had suffered, when Sarah called from the veranda. Billy drew back and it was my left that got him this time. He stood glowering at me while I straightened my clothes and got my breath back. Sarah called again.

Coming, Mum. I shouted. And then to Billy through my clenched teeth, Dont you ever do that again.

He looked as if he couldnt believe his ears. Perhaps no girl had ever spoken to him like that before.

Turning on my heel, I walked back towards the house and Billy followed. I hung my cloak under the stairs and took Billys coat from him. He was looking at me rather oddly and I found myself checking that all my buttons were done up, that my skirts were pulled down. It frightens me a little. What is he planning?

Carrie, Dad suddenly called from the study door. Come here, I have a surprise for you.

I looked at Sarah, who smiled broadly at me and then went towards daddys outstretched hand as he led me into the study. In front of the window was a box almost as big as me and along the front was a set of white ivory pieces. I touched one and music came out of the box. I pressed another and a different note came. Sitting on the stool, I put both hands on the keys. Lots of notes. High notes at one end and low notes at the other. Enquiringly, I turned to look at Dad.

It is called a spinet, he informed me. Invented by an Italian gentleman called Giovanni Spinetti.

He mimicked the Italian accent and Sarah and I laughed. I looked at Billy who was clearly still figuring something out in his mind. Should I be worried? I decided to forget it, and him too. I was too happy with my instrument and my dad. My fingers touched the notes but I was not very good and would have to learn to play properly before we all became very bored.

Soon, it was bedtime and I said goodnight to Dad and Sarah. Billy was not around so he must have already retired though I didnt see him go. Perhaps in the morning, he would be better tempered.

Closing my bedroom door, I softly drew back the bedclothes. Opening the curtains a little so that I wouldnt have to light a candle, I noticed it was snowing outside and I watched the flakes as they fell slowly past my window. Then, reaching behind my head, I undid the bow at my neck and slipped my dress over my head and lay it over the back of the chair. Stepping out of my underskirt, I hung it on the doorknob of my cupboard and went over to the bed. I would sleep well tonight.

Suddenly, a shape grabbed me, trapping my arms and I fell backwards onto the bed. I tried to scream but his big hand covered my mouth. I was panicking and I struggled but Billy was far stronger than I was. Was this what it had been like for Sarah? I shook my head vigorously as he frantically pulled at my underclothing.

Please dont, Billy, I sobbed as far as I was able. Ill do anything, but please dont hurt me like this.

When it became clear to him that I was adamant, he stopped. He lay there a long time, looking at my virtually naked body and, eventually, he let go and turned away. Youre probably no good anyway. I used to think you were pretty but you are ugly and skinny. Ill go and find someone who loves me.

He pulled up his breeches and went out, slamming the door as he went. In a flash, Dad and Sarah were there and Dad looked down at me as I just lay there, shaking and sobbing. He came over to me, wrapped the sheet round me and held me close as Sarah turned and quietly went out.

Its all right, Dad, I finally managed to say. He didnt actually do anything. Dont hurt him, please. Just send him away, I dont want to see him again.

Do you love him? he asked.

Yes, I think I do. I just dont like him touching me.

At that moment, a scream broke out which ended with a gurgle and my heart stopped dead. Dad looked round and we both ran into the back room. We found Sarah standing over Billys body, his blood running down her sword. His head was almost cut right off and his blood was everywhere - on the bed, all over the floor, on Sarahs nightdress.

Dad stepped a pace into the room and Sarah whirled round at him, her sword raised to strike.

Sarah, he said softly. Give me the sword.

She looked at him wild-eyed, the sword above her head as I stepped forward and clutched Dads arm. After what seemed to be hours, she lowered her arms. She saw what she had done to Billy and fainted. Dad was quick and he caught her before she hit the floor and carried her to her own bed and lay her down, covering her with a blanket.

He opened his mouth to speak but no words came as I dropped to my knees in front of him. He shook his head speechlessly as I stared at the peacefully-sleeping Sarah. She had acted instinctively as a mother defending her young chick but few would understand the reasons why.

Lord Ramsden

We didnt need a doctor to know that Billy was dead - no one could have survived such a wound.

Oh Billy, I cried; Why did you have to do it? Why couldnt you leave well alone? I wanted to be your friend, I really did. But now its too late.

I left him and sat with Sarah while Dad went for Parson Philips. Fetching a bowl and some water, I gently washed the blood from her face and hands as she lay looking up at me.

I had to do it, Carrie, she whispered eventually. I couldnt bear the thought of him touching you.

Now did not seem to be the best time to inform her that he had never actually made contact. Certainly it had been his intention, but when it had come to the point of rape, he had been unable to carry out the act and I would remember him for that if for nothing else. Parson Philips arrived with Dad at around midnight.

What faith is he? he asked father. Billy deserved to be buried as a Christian no matter what he had done.

Dad looked at me and I shook my head. It was something we had never discussed.

Do his parents know?

Dad shook his head.

I suddenly realised that I didnt even know where Billy lived and we had no way of contacting his parents. Actually, I knew very little about him. I knew that his mother was a cripple and made bric-a-brac which his father sold it at market. Other than that, I knew nothing. They came regularly to Maldon Market so they couldnt live too far away. But perhaps not in Dengy.

Billy was expected to have stayed for the weekend so he would not be missed until Monday - two days from now - so Dad and Parson Philips laid Billy out as best they could and wrapped him in a blanket. The justices would need to be informed, but that would wait until morning.

THE next day, we carried Billy as carefully as we could into the back of our wagon and departed for Maldon. Our arrival caused quite a stir. Sarah and I sat in the front office while Dad assisted two court constables with the body.

The justice questioned all of us about the events of the previous evening. I told of Billys earlier attempts as well as full details of the episode in my bedroom. He looked at me cynically as if he thought I had egged Billy on in some way. He also found it difficult to accept that Sarah had been the one to strike the blow which had killed him. To him, it was not the action of a lady. But then, Sarah never pretended to be a lady.

After they had questioned me in depth, I was allowed to go, so Dad stayed with Sarah whilst I went outside for air. The snow which had fallen during the night had turned to slush in the morning sunshine and it was difficult to walk along the narrow streets of the little market town without getting my skirts splashed by horses and wheels as they passed me by. Eventually, I found myself in the market area and came upon the blind beggar who always stood at the entrance, even when there was no market, like today.

I lay my hand on his arm. Hello, Joseph.

He placed his hand upon mine and smiled a genuine smile which seemed to reach even his sightless eyes. Good day, Miss Carrie. Are you well?

Im fine thank you, Joseph. I dropped a coin into his box. Joseph. Do you know where Billy Clarke and his parents live?

I dont know where exactly, Miss Carrie. But I do know it be Woodham way. I heard they have a little cottage there someplace.

I knew I had to try and find Billys father. He deserved to know as soon as possible. Thank you, Joseph.

He must have recognised something odd in my voice for his hand tightened on mine. Is Billy all right, Miss Carrie?

No, Joseph. Im....Im afraid he is not. He has... died.

He was such a wild boy, Miss Carrie. It had to happen one day.

I frowned. How would he know, he was blind? But I guess you hear a lot when you cant see. What do you know of Billy, Joseph?

I dont know as I should say, Miss. His parents such being such good church people and Billy... He struggled to find the right words. I do hear that he had a bad reputation with... with girls. Im sorry, Miss Carrie.

Now he tells me! Billy had looked so clean cut and innocent with his big, blue eyes. Thank you for your help, Joseph. I must go and find his father now.

I got directions for Woodham from an innkeeper at the top of Market Hill and headed southwards in the direction I had been shown. Reaching the top of the rise, I looked out across the estuary. What a magnificent view! I could see all the Blackwater laid out below me as if on a map and the winter sun was glinting off the water as it sparkled like magic. Northey and Osey Islands looked dark against the water and, in the far distance, the trees of Ramsey bordered the salt marshes.

I took in the view with pleasure, though the wind was no longer warm and I shivered, pulling my shawl tightly around my shoulders, and turned to continue my search. Not much snow was left now, but I guess it will fall again before spring.

After about a mile, I heard the clip-clop of a horses hooves behind me and looked around. Was I foolish to be alone on the moor after what had happened last night? I had nothing with which to defend myself if this was to be another attack.

The horse drew alongside and stopped. A well-dressed gentleman with kindly eyes looked down at me. Can I offer you a ride, young miss? My horse is strong enough for two.

I hesitated. Should I be talking to strangers? Even elderly ones? No, I thought. But my feet were killing me and this man looked very kind.

Thank you, kind sir, I said.

He slipped his foot from his stirrup and offered me his arm. Hitching up my skirts, I put my foot in the stirrup and swung my other leg over behind him. My arms felt redundant and, as his horse started forward, I had to put my arms around his waist to avoid falling off.

And what is your name, young lady? he asked over his shoulder as we trotted along.

Carrie Louise Bosvile, sir.

Well, Carrie Louise, where are you off to this fine sunny morning?

I dont rightly know, sir. What should I tell him? My friend has been hurt, sir. I must find his parents and tell them else theyll worry.

Thats a kind thought, Carrie. Where do they live?

Im not sure, sir. I only know they have a cottage at Woodham. I was kind of hoping I might see someone to ask.

You are in luck, Carrie Louise. I am going through Woodham to get to my home. Youll be able to talk to me all the way and keep me company.

I guessed he was probably a bit older than my Dad. He had the bearing of a real gentleman and spoke very kindly to me. How badly is your friend hurt, Carrie?

He...hes dead, sir.

The horse stopped and he half turned in the saddle towards me. Tears were in my eyes as he said, Im so sorry, Carrie. I shouldnt have asked.

You had a right to know, sir, for your kindness to me.

I understand your need to find his parents. I will not leave you until we have found them. He turned and urged his horse forward again. Was he a close friend, Carrie?

I used to think so, sir. He wasnt all bad.

I sense something unhappy in your voice so I will ask no more.

It was just...that he wanted more than I could give.

Why couldnt all men be understanding and kind like my Dad and this fine gentleman?

We stopped at the next farm to ask the way and the gentleman got down from his horse and spoke to the farmer who shook his head and pointed.

My gentleman thanked him and came back to the horse. He doesnt know your friend but he says there is a farmer just up the road who knows everyone, so he might be able to help us.

I dont want to be any trouble, sir.

Its no trouble. He smiled and then swung his leg over the horses head and dropped to the ground. You ride, Ill walk for a bit.

I felt so proud. Here I was on a gentlemans horse while he walked and got his boots all muddy. We went for about a mile and there was another farm set back from the road. He led the horse and I into the farmyard and knocked at the door. At this farm they knew of Billy. I couldnt help overhearing the conversation and not only did they know him, they seemed to know him well.

Just then, a girl of about my own age came out of the house carrying a baby. Shes young to have a baby, I thought to myself as I jumped down from the horse. I went over to her and touched the babys face and the girl instinctively pulled her baby away, thinking I wished it harm. It had blue eyes and a mop of straw coloured hair and it was at that moment, I put two and two together and realised that I was not Billys first victim.

Billys dead, I said softly.

Her free hand went to her face and she let out a little cry.

Her father turned round and came over to us and spoke to his daughter. I done told you he were no good. I knew this would happen. I told you. Then to me, How did he die, young miss?

My mother killed him, I said sadly.

Oh, my child, said the gentleman. This good farmer has been telling me about his daughter and Billys reputation. With you, did he...?

I looked straight at him. No, sir. He didnt...finish what hed...hed intended.

Huh! said the farmer. I wish that had been true with my Debbie. You can see he didnt stop when he was with her.

Suddenly, I felt sorry for them both. How could Billy have deceived me, and probably these other people, too?

I need to tell his father, I said to them all. To let them know what has happened. Can you tell us where he lives?

The farmer leant towards me. Ill do better than that, young lady. Ill take you there myself. He strode over to the barn and came out with a big brown horse which he mounted.

I looked round at my gentleman who placed his hand on my arm. Dont worry, Carrie Louise. Ill stay with you.

He helped me back up onto the horse and then climbed on behind me, his reins in one hand and his other arm tightly around my waist. We followed the farmer down the lane for a while then onto a narrow track leading to an isolated cottage with wood smoke spiralling upward from its single chimney. Billys father came out of the front door as we approached, a look of apprehension on his face. I had come this far to find him but suddenly realised I had no idea what I was going to say to him.

Well, Donald, said the farmer loudly. Your boy got his cum-uppance at last.

I panicked. No! This wasnt the way it was to be. They deserved to be told in a kinder way than this. I suddenly felt sorry for him and slipped from the horse and put my hand on his arm. Im so sorry, Mr Clarke. Im afraid something has indeed happened to Billy.

I told you it would happen, persevered the farmer. I said last year; “you mark my words, that Billy will be done for if he keeps on this way. Somebodys going to give him what he deserves.

Billys father looked back to me. Where is he?

Hes at Maldon, sir. At the justices office.

How did it happen? he asked as if he already knew.

He died at our house, Mr Clarke.

His eyes flicked to mine. Did he hurt you, my child?

I shook my head, but tears were in my eyes.

He tried though, didnt he?

I nodded, looking down at the ground.

And your father...?

I shook my head. My mother. It was she who found me.

He drew back his shoulders. I must go to her immediately.

The farmer started again. I turned on him then. No, sir. This is not the time. Its over. Let it be.

He sneered and opened his mouth to speak again. My gentleman went over to him. Sir. We know of your daughters problems and are sorry but these good people must now be allowed to grieve for their son. There had to have been some good in him. We are grateful to you for showing us the way but we will now let you get back to your farm.

The farmer opened his mouth again.

Now! said the gentleman.

The farmer glared at him and then wheeled his horse around and galloped away.

I thought about the gentlemans words. Yes, there had been some good in Billy. Certainly, he had started to assault me, but had stopped. A minute later and I would have been violated. I would have been hurt, physically and emotionally. Later, I may have been with child like the farmers daughter, Debbie, had been. I had something to be grateful for.

Billys father went to put his pony into the trap as I went over to my gentleman. I would like to thank you for your kindness, sir. I am very grateful.

Nonsense, girl. It was the least I could do. He paused. There is one thing you can do for me in exchange. He pulled out a scrap of card from his waistcoat. Will you write to me and tell me what the outcome is?

Of course, sir, I replied. Sir, may I visit you?

You may, my child. And if you ever need me again, send a message here. He tapped his card, handed it to me and gave me a little bow. I am at your service, my dear Carrie Louise.

I suppose I should have curtsied but, instead, I stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. He didnt seem too upset as he raised his hat to me and strode towards his horse.

It was late afternoon before we got back to Maldon and, as we arrived at the office of the Justice, Dad stood up and came towards us. Carrie, weve been so worried.

I couldnt bear to think of Billys father not knowing, so I looked for him. It all seemed quite logical to me.

Billys father shook Dads hand solemnly. Im sorry, Jack.

Youre sorry? It is I who should be sorry, not you.

But I know how it happened. I shouldnt have let him come, knowing what he was like. But I thought hed changed. Hes been so good lately.

We didnt go home that night. The hearing had been scheduled for Monday at Chelmers Ford so we stayed at Maldon Saturday night. I lay on the bed at the inn with Sarah, smoothing the hair from her face. It was not till that moment that I realised just how much I loved her.

THE trial was not a long one. It had already been agreed by the court that murder was not to be the charge. However, a life had been taken and justice was to be seen to be done so the charge of manslaughter was pronounced and the evidence was heard. In the end, judgement was reached - ten years imprisonment and Dad stood as if made of marble as sentence was passed.

We were not even allowed to see Sarah after she had been taken away and we rode home in silence. We had left Rachel with David and Rebekkah and it was too late to collect her now so we sat together alone in our big house at Moor Hill.

Dad sat for an hour as the candle burned down in the scullery, cold with the fire not lit. Suddenly, he stood up and collected his sword, Sarahs sword and the flintlock pistol and laid them on the table.

No, Dad, I said. Dont make it worse, not yet. We must appeal. We can do that, cant we?

It will do no good, child. No one is on our side.

Thats not true. I know someone who will help us. He promised.

And who might that be? he asked cynically.

A fine gentleman who helped me today and gave me his card. I pulled it out of my belt and gave it to him. He said he would help us if we needed it.

Taking it, Dad read it carefully. And what would this “gentleman expect in return?

He would do it for me without payment, I said, my nose in the air.

He touched my hand. Carrie, remember my words well. No one does something for nothing.

My anger flared at this. Yes they do. You do. Youve helped all sorts of people and you dont want things in return.

I didnt know why I was sticking up for my gentleman, but it seemed to be important. I wasnt going to take sides against my dad, I loved him too much for that, but it seemed inconceivable that my gentleman would have an ulterior motive for helping me.

Very well, Carrie, my father relented. If you feel that strongly, we shall go to see him tomorrow.

No Dad, please. You try to visit Sarah tomorrow. Ill come with you part of the way then Ill go and see him myself. I held his hand in mine across the table. I promise to be very careful.

THE next day, we left early. Dad rode his horse while I took the pony and trap as I couldnt possibly ride a horse with my best dress and cape on, could I? We rode together to Latchingdon and said our goodbyes as Dad galloped off towards Maldon while I took the left fork to Rettendon Hall.

It was a marvellous house, big, with lots of windows and a long drive through tall iron gates and, as I rode up to the big front door, a uniformed servant came out to meet me. He held my hand as I stepped down from the trap.

My name is Carrie Louise Bosvile. I have come to see Lord Ramsden.

He bowed respectfully. Very well, Miss Bosvile. Come this way, please.

He showed me into the library and my mouth fell open. I had never seen so many books in all my life. There were hundreds of them and they covered almost all the walls in this very big room. How could one person read all this lot in a single lifetime?

Slipping the hood from my dark hair, I examined one or two big leather ones with my eyes and touched the fine binding with the tips of my fingers.

Do you read, Carrie Louise? said the voice behind me.

I snatched back my hand, feeling guilty. Yes, sir. My Aunt Elizabeth taught me reading, writing and reckoning.

My gentleman indicated the book I had taken a fancy to. Thats Shakespeare, he said as he came over to me, took my hand and kissed it.

Tea, Jenkins, he said to his butler. You do take tea, Carrie Louise?

Yes, My Lord, I said, curtsying low with head bowed. Thank you.

Now then, he said. Sit beside me and tell me all the news.

I slipped off my cape and sat upright on the settee next to him as I told him all about the trial and the outcome. As tea was poured, I went on to tell him about Billys earlier advances, about Sarahs experiences and why she felt so strongly.

He nodded in full understanding. When is the appeal to be? he asked when all had been told.

Next Friday, sir. At Chelmers Ford.

Then never fear, I will be there. I dont know what I can do, but believe me, I will do everything within my power to help you.

I felt better already. You are so kind, My Lord. I would do anything to save my mother from prison.

He slowly put down his cup on the polished mahogany table and turned to face me. Anything?

I swallowed and looked him straight in the eyes. Anything. Anything at all. I mean it.

The old gentleman took my hands in his and looked at me for a long time before he stood up and paced the floor. You must be careful how you go about offering your everything, Carrie Louise. If I were a younger man, I might be inclined to take advantage of this situation but I am not, and so I wont. One day, I may have need of your anything but, right now, it is your mother we must think of. You will make an old man happy and stay to lunch?

I smiled. I would like that very much, My Lord.

Ive never had oysters before, nor paté, and it was wonderful. Dark rye bread, still warm from the oven, with fresh butter and five different cheeses.

He and I dined alone. Me in my best blue frock and he in his red silk dressing gown. This was the life. After lunch, I allowed him to escort me around the garden which ran right down to the river and, as the afternoon wore on and I had seen all that Rettendon had to offer, I felt a little happier with life.

I was sorry to leave, but if I left it too late, Dad would be angry as well as worried. It got dark very early in December so I had to leave for home by mid-afternoon. Lord Ramsden walked me to the trap and held my hand as I climbed aboard and then smiled and gave his little bow as I left for the journey home.

THE appeal hearing was a short one. It was not necessary to hear all the evidence again, just the mitigating circumstances. More of Sarahs background was revealed and Lord Ramsden gave a character reference concerning the family and our obvious Christian principles. However, a crime had been committed and a show of justice must be given.

The verdict “Manslaughter whilst the balance of the mind was disturbed was reached and Sarah was committed to the asylum pending observation. I suppose it had been too much to expect that she would be released completely but, in some ways, the asylum would be better than prison. If the doctor in charge could be persuaded that she was sane, that is.

I thanked Lord Ramsden very much for his help.

He was disappointed that release had not been granted. Will I see you again, Carrie Louise?

Of course, I replied. And I thank you very much for your kindness.

Im sure Sarah would not have survived long in prison. At least in hospital, she would get attention.

Dad and I visited Sarah at the asylum a week later and she was in the visiting room with a couple of other really weird people. Dad asked her what the doctor had said.

Sarah seemed surprised. Doctor? Theres no doctor here, Jack.

Father was dumfounded. He went in search of a doctor and, as Sarah had said, there werent any. I was staggered to see the depreciation which had already taken place in Sarahs mentality. She was returning to her childhood amongst these retarded people. As we spoke to her, she became confused and kept losing her train of thought. We must get her out of here, I thought, else all that we have accomplished will be gone.

Dad spoke to the man in charge who was not particularly interested in her welfare. He was paid to provide food and water, so food and water is what they would get - nothing else, he wasnt qualified. Dad was furious but there was nothing we could do. It was like talking to a brick wall.

Asylum

My father and I rode to Moor Hill in silence but, as soon as we got home, Dad collected the swords and pistol and pulled me by the arm out into the orchard.

Now well do it my way, he said. He gave me the flintlock pistol, butt first. Hold that!

Dad... I began.

We tried it your way and it didnt work, he snapped. Now just do as I say.

I argued no more. I had never seen him so angry before and I was very frightened. Later when he had calmed down, then I would suggest my plan to him.

Hold it upright, he said.

I held the pistol with the barrel upwards.

Pour in some powder, he said. More. Thats enough. Now ram it down tight.

I rammed it tight and dropped in the ball and pushed it in hard.

Check the flint and flashpan.

It seemed all right to me. I had seen dad load it before and it looked the same as when he did it.

Cock it.

With some difficulty, I pulled the hammer back with my thumbs.

He pointed to a tree about ten paces away. Now hit that.

The pistol was very heavy and I needed both hands to lift it as it wobbled about all over the place. When it went off, I thought both my arms were broken. Dad walked over to the tree and, as I suspected, there was not a mark on it.

Load it again.

I loaded it and cocked it.

Now raise it higher and bring it down slowly. As you reach the right height, hold your breath and pull the trigger slowly. Dont jerk it.

He was still standing by the tree. How could I shoot? I might hit him.

I cant. I said.

This tree is a man who is attacking me. Shoot him now.

I still hesitated.

Do it! he shouted at me.

I held my breath and the pain shot up my arms again as I closed my eyes. When I opened them, dad was smiling.

Carrie, he said. You just saved my life.

He raised his hand to the tree and pointed to the hole, dead centre. He made me do it over and over again until my arms couldnt raise the weight of the pistol any more. I had fired about twenty shots and all of the last ten had hit the tree. Dad came over and took the pistol from me without a word. He gave me Sarahs sword.

Now attack me, he commanded.

I remembered how good he was and that whatever I did, I was unlikely to penetrate his defence so I swung the sword over my head and brought it down as hard as I could. I might not hit him but it would relieve some of my frustrations. When I had swung a few strokes at him which he easily parried, I felt a sudden sharp pain and looked down. The top button had vanished from my dress and there was blood just below my neckline. I was horrified as I felt the warm trickle between my breasts. I looked up at him with open mouth. My dad had stabbed me.

Lesson number one, he said harshly. Remember that your opponent also has a sword.

Tears of frustration poured from me as I hacked away at him without getting past his blade. Suddenly, I felt another stinging pain and sat down heavily. The wind was cold around my shoulders as I noticed that another button had vanished into the undergrowth. My Dad is trying to kill me, I thought. Ten minutes later, I had a very cold chest and three more holes in me and I just sat and cried and cried.

Dad came over to me and took my arm gently. I staggered to my feet and he picked me up and carried me into the house where he carefully sat me down on the chair by the table and then soaked a flannel in cold water. He came back to me, opened the lapels of my dress and placed the cold compress where it hurt and then went out. The cold flannel was very soothing. After a while, I tentatively lifted the edge and observed my wounds. They could hardly be seen. In a few days, there would not be a mark to show where the pain had been. It wasnt so much my chest that was damaged, it was my pride. My Dad had cut me. How could he do it?

Soon, Dad came back in carrying the swords and pistol and he put them away in the cupboard and then knelt behind me and held me tight. This was the Dad I knew and loved, not the other, warrior father. He started to speak but I didnt want his apologies, it would be embarrassing for him.

Instead, I said; Dad. I have a plan.

He got up and sat next to me, holding my hands.

Sarah and I must trade places. They wont be able to tell us apart. I will convince them that I, that is Sarah, is fit and well.

He started to object.

Its the only way, I said.

He thought about it. Yes, it could work. But I cant let you stay in that place.

And I cant bear to see my mother deteriorate any further. If we dont do something soon, there will be no mind left to save so please let me do it, I owe it to her. She acted for me so I must be the one to save her.

So we agreed on the plan which went into action the next visiting day. I wore my long cape to the asylum as dad drove up in our pony and trap and parked it outside. I went in with him, arm in arm with my hood up.

We found Sarah straight away as she sat in the corner, looking out of the window. Other visitors were in and we sat for a while and talked to her. There was little response. She was going fast.

As the last visitor left, the man in charge went towards the main door to see them out and I acted like lightning. I took off my cape while Dad removed Sarahs hospital gown. I had worn only my shift under the cape and had near frozen to death on the journey. I slipped her gown over my head as Dad tied up my cape round Sarahs neck. When the man returned, I was sitting, looking out of the window as Sarah had done and dad spoke to me as he had to Sarah. He then rose to go, helping Sarah to her feet. This was the difficult part. He had to get Sarah out of the building as if she were me.

He said goodbye to me but the man was looking at Sarah. Did he suspect? I started moaning and banging on the window and he ran across to me and tried to hold me down. When I looked round, dad and Sarah had gone so I relaxed and let the man lead me to my room where I was bedded with five other girls and women who were all totally barmy. No wonder Sarah had become retarded.

I hardly slept at all that night. The others wandered around all the time and kept me awake. It was dreadful. This was not a place where people were cured at all. People were locked away here so that “normal people would not be embarrassed by their presence. Sarah would never have been released, ever.

I lay on my cot and looked around that dreadful room. It was barely large enough for six beds and, other than the beds, there was no other furniture. There wasnt room.

The only window was set high up so that no-one could see out and even that was barred. The stone walls were covered in writing and drawings, some of them quite fantastic, others very frightening. I had to get out of that room for a while.

In the hallway outside, the roof was very high internally and was supported by a series of heavy wooden beams. While I was exploring, I saw the rope. It was strung over the central beam and tied to a nail in the wall by the door. Surely they didnt hang people here? I looked closely. No, the loop in the end which hung down in the centre of the room was far too small for any neck. I walked around for a while and eventually became tired enough to sleep.

The next morning, we were fed some dreadful gruel but I could not eat it. I stood up and took it back and demanded some real food. By the time I was ready to leave this place, these people would be glad to see the back of me because, in the meantime, I was going to make myself a nuisance until we got something edible to eat.

I was given more gruel so I tipped it over his head. The other inmates laughed hysterically and it took three men to hold me down while I squirmed. They struggled but eventually got me back to my room. I had imagined being locked up, beaten perhaps, but what I was not prepared for and intensely horrified by was the way they took advantage of me. They only used their hands and it only lasted a few minutes but, in that short time, they certainly got their own back on me. Eventually satisfied, they left me, naked and sweating, upon my cot.

Did this happen to all the women here? Had it happened to Sarah? Did they all have to put up with this indecent kind of treatment? I suppose the others were not in a position to object but I certainly was. Those men would suffer because of the way they had treated me.

THE next day, we were being fed hot soup and the server leered at me as he remembered the pleasure he had gained from me. I went close to him as if I was over friendly and, as he reached out to grab me, I knocked the bowl of piping hot soup all over his front. He screamed in agony as he clutched at his scalded stomach and crotch and I mingled with the others and joined them in their glee while the other men came and took him off to be treated.

THAT weekend, it was Christmas and dad had arranged that he would visit to see if progress had been made in establishing Sarahs sanity.

How are they treating you? he asked when we were alone.

Dont dare ask! I said vehemently.

He was taken aback by the ferocity of my remark.

If I still have my virginity intact by next week, I shall be very surprised. These men are evil.

With eyes and mouth wide open, dad sat and listened as I quietly explained that there were no doctors at all. No one came to check if we were well. We were simply locked here till we faded away. Did the justices know this was happening? Did they sincerely believe people could be healed in places like this?

We must get you out of here immediately, Dad eventually said.

Not yet, I said, concerned about possible repercussions if I suddenly disappeared. Tomorrow. Nothing will happen before tomorrow.

How wrong I was.

Dad arranged to come for me the next evening at six. As a precaution, he slipped me the pistol in with some fruit and I carried it back to my room when he had gone. Checking that it was loaded, I placed it under my bed.

That night after dinner, I talked to some of the other inmates in the common room and some of them were not as insane as one might think. Many of them probably came in here as Sarah had - victims of circumstances. The girls all talked about their continued harassment. It seemed that no-one had actually been raped, I supposed they darent risk someone becoming pregnant. However, it was probably only a matter of time before they tried it on with someone, if their desire grew strong enough. The way those men had looked at me today suggested that soon, I could easily end up as guinea-pig.

I couldnt sleep that night. It was bitterly cold and the other women moaned in sleeplessness so I got up to walk around to keep warm. I opened the door to the dormitory and they were there - the one who had been scalded and his two mates. One of the men had a belt with a thing like a butchers hook fixed to it and another of them caught me before I could turn. It was then that I found out what the rope hanging from the roof was for.

The belt was strapped tightly around my wrists and I was lifted up bodily until the hook in the belt slipped through the loop in the rope. Suddenly, there I was, suspended from the rope with my toes not quite touching the ground.

My arms ached as I swung round and round, their hands all over me. Eventually, two of them grabbed my ankles and pulled my legs wide apart. I didnt know precisely what it was they were going to do to me but my imagination went rife and I am ashamed to say I was so terrified that I wet myself.

It broke the spell. They let go and left me hanging there with warm liquid trickling down my legs and onto the floor.

Now look what youve done, one of them said. Now well have to clean you up.

They laughed as they went and I felt thoroughly ashamed. What was going to happen now?

I didnt have to wait long to find out. It felt as if I had been hit by an avalanche as a bucket full of ice-cold water was thrown over me. Then another and another. I was completely drenched and even my shift and hair had been soaked with freezing water which dribbled down me. One of them climbed up and opened wide the hall windows and they went down the stairs and left open the door to the outer passageway. Suddenly, it was silent except for the ice-cold wind howling through the open window.

The feeling went out of my hands first then, after a few minutes, my arms were dead in the cold night air. Soon, my whole body was shivering violently, causing me to jerk about uncontrollably at the end of the rope. Soon, other inmates were there, male and female, and they touched me and poked me as if I were an exhibit on display. I hardly felt them, I was almost totally numb by now and I think I must have passed out.

When I came round again, hands were all over me again but, soon, I realised that they were different hands, kind hands, helping hands. I was lifted down and carried into the dormitory and they all gave me their blankets but I still shivered.

Hours later, I looked around and saw it was just beginning to get light. I must have hung in that hallway for hours. However, in time, the other inmates had helped me. I thought about their situation and realised that they had more humanity than the guards. Who were the mentally sick, I asked myself? These poor souls locked in here? Or the supposed sane ones? It it hadnt been for these “friends I would certainly have frozen to death. In the morning, the guards would probably have thrown me out into the snow and then claimed I had tried to run away but had died in the attempt.

I lay in bed all the next morning and ached as my blood was slowly beginning to circulate again, causing excruciating agony. If I tried to move, I was overcome with so much pain that I felt my head swim.

The sun passed midday and I remembered that dad was coming for me soon. Before then, I had a job to do. I forced myself upright, fighting pain and nausea then pulled a blanket round my shoulders and stood up.

It was a very silly thing to do. I fell onto the floor and lay there, dying in agony, when I saw it. Under the bed was my pistol. With a smile, I reached out at took it, checked it, and found it still loaded. The flint was in place so I cocked it and nearly put it to my own head to stop the pain but I was determined as to what should be done. Rolling onto my back, I got my breath and, with the aid of the iron bedstead, sat up. Pulling myself onto my knees, I lay my head on the bed whilst the nausea passed.

Later that day, I unpicked some thread from the lining of the curtains in the common room and no-one noticed as I appeared to be staring out of the window. Carefully, I wrapped the thread around my wrist and pulled down my sleeve. At five oclock, I crept out of my room to the top of the stairs, unwrapped the thread and made a loop between the top two balustrades of the stone stairs. Then, I crept along the corridor as one of the guards came along.

He looked both ways and then came up to me at the top of the stairs. I leaned on one of the banisters in the half light and forced myself to smile, raising my head as if to let him kiss me. As I did, I moved so that his back was to the stairs.

It didnt take much of a push. Frantically, he tried to step back to retain his balance but the thread caught his heel and he fell backwards down the stone stairway. Before he reached the bottom, I was back in my dormitory.

There was quite a commotion. It wasnt until later that I found out he had died of a fractured skull. I could not feel sorry for him. How many of the female patients here had he abused? He would certainly do it no more.

I went out onto the landing and looked out of the window. It was already dark and dad would be here soon so I pulled the blanket round myself and forced myself to walk out of the room and down that long flight of stairs. Every step was indescribable agony but I held my head high. As I reached the bottom step, one of the men came along the passageway and saw me.

I swayed a little from the exertion as I fought back another dizzy spell until my eyes and mind became clear again and I watched him coming towards me, evil intent clearly marked on his face. When he got about three yards away, I raised my arms together and the blanket fell away. There was a loud report from the pistol, and his brains were spread all over the office wall.

Everything went quiet as I stepped over his body and continued towards the office as the other man, still limping from his burns, stuck his head out of the doorway. The pistol barrel caught him in the face and he fell back, spitting blood and broken teeth from his mouth. He reached for a dagger so my arms came up again and the barrel caught him in the throat. His hands went to his neck as he started to choke. The ferocity of my blow had ruptured his windpipe and he slowly started to turn blue as he fell to his knees and then prone. He lay there, his jerking and choking getting less and less, till he lay still.

Suddenly, bedlam broke out. Inmates from all the rooms came out and began to chatter. My head was beginning to spin so I sat on the floor and saw the dead guards head near to me. He was so young. Why were so many men corrupt like this? Did they only ever think of sex? I was beginning to hate the whole idea. No man was ever going to touch me again. Ever.

All at once, my Dad was there. He picked me up carefully and wrapped the blanket around me as we walked out into the snow and he cocooned me in the pony trap till I was warm and we trotted away into the night.

George Merry

We had ridden perhaps a mile when I recognised the iron gates.

Dad, stop. This is where Lord Ramsden lives. I didnt realise it was so close.

Surely you dont want to stop now, he reasoned. Well probably all end up in prison, or worse.

No, Dad. Hes not like that. Please, I must tell him about what is happening to the poor people in the asylum. He may be able to do something for them.

Dad looked at me then turned the pony into the big, iron gates and we pulled up outside the Hall as the butler came out, peering into the darkness. I jumped down from the trap and ran for the front door. I dont know what he thought, seeing me there, in my shift and barefoot, wrapped in a blanket.

Jenkins, thank goodness. Is his Lordship at home?

His old eyes went wide with amazement at the sight of a scantily-clad maiden running about in the snow. Miss Bosvile! Come in at once, you must be frozen.

He ushered me into the library, Dad following, then rushed off to find Lord Ramsden. It was a very short time before my gentleman came, dressed in his best fineries.

My child. What had happened?

He looked from me to Dad, insistent on a full explanation and Dad started with the exchange and I finished with the abuse and attempted murder. He waited patiently until we had finished then got up and began to pace the floor. He eventually faced my father. Do you have anywhere where you can go to for a while? Somewhere where you cant be found?

Dad nodded.

It will be best to lie low for a bit until things blow over. However, I will put steps into action immediately to try to rectify the situation at the asylum. The sheriff is here tonight, dining with me, so I will make sure that they are cared for. In the meantime, to save a very embarrassing time for you, Carrie, it is best that you disappear for a while. Will you do that?

Yes, of course, My Lord. Ill do whatever you think is best.

Go quickly, my child. He looked at Dad. When it is the right time to come home I will let you know. Where will I find you?

Dad hesitated.

Its all right, Dad, I said. You can trust him.

Dad gave him the address. I had heard the name of the place somewhere before, but it took me a while to remember where.

WE left Moor Hill in the morning, Dad taking Sarah in the market wagon with all we needed piled high and Rachel riding behind in the trap with me.

It was a miserable journey and, as we got further northward, the snow got worse. What a time of year to travel. But we had no choice. It might take many months, even years to get everything sorted out and only Dad seemed to know where he was going as we bravely fought our way northwards in the wind and snow, all of us bitterly cold all of the time.

The trip took almost three days and it wasnt until we got to the dark woods that Sarah became frightened. Black Head Ponds were frozen over and looked treacherous and, in the clearing, the big old house looked desolate. Part of the roof needed repair and the stone steps at the front were broken and lopsided. Several windows were broken. I looked at the sign over the door. “wigmoor Hall it proudly announced. What had happened to the “T?

Jumping to the ground, I went to the front door while Dad tried to persuade Sarah to come down off the wagon. It was then that I remembered and realised the reason for her reluctance. Dad must be very desperate indeed to bring her to this place. It was fifteen years since she had been here before, but the sort of memories that she would have would remain with her forever.

It was in this house that she had been imprisoned and repeatedly raped and beaten, almost to death, by the Plot gang. It looked as if the house had stood empty through all the intervening years but I suppose it had become common knowledge what had happened here and I doubted that many people would dare venture near this forbidding place. I suddenly wondered if it was haunted.

I took a deep breath. There was only one way to find out. Stepping onto the porchway, I pushed at the big front door. It was stiff and Rachel helped as it opened wide enough to allow me to slip inside and find that it was very dark. Outside, it was not particularly light, the overclouded sky threatening snow again.

Inside, it was damp and cold and black as I felt my way carefully along the hallway, littered with rubbish and fallen plaster. At the end was another door which opened with a creak and I was obviously in the scullery lit by faint light from the broken window. I reached over to the lamp on the table to see if it had any oil left in and something touched my arm. I screamed as I fell to the floor, the thing seeming to clutch at me and smother me with its flailing limbs. Dad came rushing in, sword in hand, as I pushed it back from myself. Dad lit the lamp and we saw that my attacker was a skeleton which had no head. I looked and, on the other side of the table, sat another skeleton. By the door to the stairs was another with its head at a strange angle.

A sound in the passage made Dad whirl round on the defensive but it was Sarah who stood in the open doorway. Looking at the skeletons, she laughed horribly and I shuddered. But these were the bodies of the men who had attacked and abused her and if anyone had the right to laugh, she did.

I went to her and held her tight as Dad and Rachel searched for wood to start a fire and, soon, we were all sitting round the old fireplace, drinking hot soup. Dad put the horses in the underground stables while Sarah and I tidied the scullery and put boards over the broken window. The rats that had taken all that had been left of the food has also stripped the skeletons so the place soon began to smell better as the dampness gradually dispersed.

We slept in the scullery that night, it was the only warm place and, in the morning, sorted out another couple of rooms and lit fires to try and dry the house out. The rear bedrooms were full of snow where part of the roof had fallen in so we shared the two front bedrooms.

By the end of the week, part of the house was habitable. The rest would have to wait, at least until spring.

I couldnt help but notice that Dad had taken some wood and nails and boarded up a door leading to yet another floor - the attic. Was this where Sarah had lost her mind? I shuddered at the thought of what lay at the head of those narrow stairs and what would happen to Sarah if ever she was allowed to climb them and catch a glimpse of what had become for her a torture chamber of mixed horrors.

ON Saturday, we all climbed aboard the wagon and went to the nearby town of Ashby where, at the market, we bought food and other necessities. On leaving the market, I was surprised that Dad didnt head back to Twigmoor. Instead, he took us westward to the little village of Yaddlethorpe. He answered our queries with only a sly smile but, eventually, stopped outside a house in the middle of the village and helped us down from the wagon. He stood for a while, looking at the house, and then tapped upon the small oaken door. An elderly lady answered his knock.

Father removed his tall hat. Is Doctor Merry still living here?

Yes, sir, said the grey-haired woman. But hes retired now. Youll have to go to Doctor Marsh at Frodingham.

Its not a doctor I need, Mrs Merry. I need to see your husband on a personal matter.

The old lady hesitated for a moment but then stood aside to let him enter and I found she was staring at me.

Dont I know you? she asked quietly.

I put my head on one side and then curtsied quickly. No, Mistress Merry. I have never been here before.

She again looked at Dad and realisation returned. Jack Bosvile!

Dad nodded and she looked at me again. Is this...? No, it cant be.

Dad smiled, shook his head, turned, held out his hand to Sarah who took it and stepped forward into the doorway, slipping the hood from her head of raven hair.

Oh, my goodness, Mrs Merry said, and sat down, tears flowing from her eyes.

Janet, who is it? said a voice from the parlour.

Mrs Merry made to rise but Dad put his finger to his lips and his hand on her shoulder. Then, pulling out his knife, he cut off a little of Sarahs hair, much to her amusement, and went into the parlour.

Doctor, he said into the tidy room. Its me, Jack Bosvile.

Through the open doorway, I saw the doctor sit up and grasp Dads hands. What a kindly man.

I have a surprise for you. Or rather, four surprises.

Surprise number one, he said. I once promised you a lock of Sarahs hair if she recovered.

The doctor held the black scrap tightly in his hand. Is she...?

Surprise number two, Dad said.

He held out his hand to Sarah and her head went on one side, queryingly, but she took his hand and followed him into the parlour. He looked at the doctor. This is Sarah.

Mother went in and knelt by his settee as the doctor put his hands to her face. Oh. Sarah. Im so, so happy.

He was crying and I had never seen a man cry before and it was touching somehow. As I walked into the room, the doctor looked up at me and his mouth fell open.

Carrie Louise Bosvile at your service, sir, I said and he looked confused.

My daughter. said Sarah. Now it is I who have a surprise.

She held out her hand and Rachel came into the room.

Carrie would have been just a child when you last saw me but Rachel has been born to us since my...my illness.

A miracle, said George Merry through his tears. Please, I insist you stay to tea. We have a lot of catching up to do.

Sarah hadnt remembered much about the first time she had been at this house, but when Dad had brought her in, she had caught on fast.

Her recovery since leaving the asylum was amazing. Why was the world full of men whos only aim in life seemed to be the abuse and harassment of women and young girls? In my relatively short life I had met few who were different. Dad certainly was different.

When I think of the opportunities where he could have taken Sarah when she was younger. And when they were in France, he had kept from her because he was married to Elizabeth. And since he had married mother, he had had eyes for no-one else. Except me, of course, but that doesnt count.

Also, there was Lord Ramsden. I had offered him my everything and would willingly have given it, too, if it had meant saving Sarahs life. But he had not taken advantage of me when he had the opportunity. This doctor also seemed like someone who could be trusted. Sarahs life had been in his hands and he had worked day and night to save her life and had asked nothing in return save a lock of her hair. It was so confusing, this not knowing quite who you could or could not trust. I had trusted Billy and I was nearly carrying his baby. You would have thought that supervisors at an asylum could be trusted, but they had taken advantage of me in a most disgusting manner. Still, they were dead now, and I wasnt sorry at all.

Dad recounted all the events of the intervening years while George and Janet Merry listened attentively and Sarah filled in some of the details. Together, they told of the journey to France: Sarahs gradual recovery; the house they built at a place they had called La Planque; the friends they had made with both Catholics and Huguenots before they were driven from their home. They spoke of the long journey through the heart of France, how they had been captured by extremists and Sarah had been sentenced to be publicly burnt alive as a spy. They also told of how father had gained the help of the least likely person, the Cardinal, and they had rescued Sarah at the last possible second and had gone into hiding. Lastly, they recounted how they had been smuggled northwards and into England where they had returned home to find Elizabeth married to Simon and myself now a big girl of eight years.

Sarah must feel a very great love for Dad. I watched her now as she looked at him while he was speaking and there was deep love and respect in her eyes and face. I certainly doubt I shall ever meet someone as wonderful.

The Merrys insisted that we stay the night at Yaddlethorpe and, soon, Rachel and I were tucked up in a big, feather bed and Dad and Mum were in the room above. In the darkness, I lay listening to the creaking of the bed and, by the sound of it, Rachel and I would have a new brother or sister if they kept that up for much longer.

IT was over a year later that a beautiful coach, pulled by six horses, drew up outside Twigmoor Hall and a young coachman in liveried uniform climbed down from the top and spoke to father who was working in the garden. Wondering what it was all about, Rachel and I peeked from behind the curtains in the front room at him.

Sarah was in the scullery, feeding the baby (I told you it would happen, didnt I? At nineteen, I know about these things).

Dad came into the room as Rachel and I sat on the settee all innocent-like, and Dad came over to me and gave me a letter.

I gaped. For me? A letter?

Dad nodded and I took it from his hand. It was on fine paper with a coat of arms at the top. I broke the seal and read the letter carefully despite my shaking hands.

It read:

My Dearest Carrie Louise

I know you once offered me anything my heart desired. At that time, I wanted nothing but now I have a deep need of your help. If you can find it in your heart to help an old man please return at once with my coachman.

It is quite safe now for you to come back and this could be to your advantage as well as mine. If however your circumstances make it impossible I will understand.

Your faithful servant,

Henry Ramsden

Your faithful servant, I re-read. A Lord had called himself that? To me? I showed Dad and then looked at him in expectation.

He shrugged.

I stood up. I must leave at once.

Henriette Marie

Lord Ramsdens coach and six covered the return journey to Essex far quicker than the three days it had taken to get to Twigmoor in the first place. After thundering along old Roman roads and negotiating the unevenly-rutted cart tracks England likes to call highways, I felt numb from head to foot and more than a little shaky as I stepped down to solid ground outside Rettendon Hall. I was met by Jenkins, as usual, who came the nearest I had ever seen to smiling as he took my few things inside ahead of me.

Given no time at all to recover or rest, I was shown straight into his Lordships presence. He was not alone. As Jenkins announced me and I stepped over the threshold of the main reception room, I saw that my gentleman was sitting in his usual chair but he had with him a younger man whose good looks and athletic stature, I am forced to admit, made my pulse quicken inexplicably.

My word, Henry, the well-dressed adonis said with one raised eyebrow as he jumped to his feet. Your judgement does you credit.

My feelings were mixed - excitement, pride and, most of all, confusion as Lord Ramsden said, Come in, Carrie Louise. I have someone here who has made a point of staying behind especially to meet you.

Jenkins took the cape from my shoulders as I walked nervously towards the two men. The young man took my hand in his and raised it to his lips with a great flair.

Lord Ramsden got painfully to his feet. Allow me to present the Kings nephew, Prince Rupert.

My heart went ninety-to-the-dozen as the Prince hung onto my hand and my knees tried to wobble their way through a decent curtsy.

The Prince smiled. Rise, girl. You will meet my uncle later and that will be the time to bow and scrape.

I nearly choked. His uncle? The King? I was to meet the King?

Eventually, he let go of my hand and spoke to Lord Ramsden. I will leave you to your very pleasant duty, Henry. He turned to me and clicked his heels as he bowed. Adieu, my dear.

Staggered by such unforeseen attention, I waited patiently beside the fire until Lord Ramsden had seen the Prince on his way.

He smiled as he returned and I kissed his cheek. Well, my dear. Did you have a good journey?

I smiled in return. Yes, thank you, My Lord, your coachman is a very safe driver. Safe, yes, but it would be days before the feeling returned to my bottom.

He bade me sit in the armchair opposite him. I will not prolong your agony any longer, my Carrie Louise. You are tired and I am sure will want to go to bed. However, you have come a long way and may prefer to hear me out tonight rather than wait until morning.

He looked at me enquiringly and I nodded.

He drew in his breath. The doctor called to see me last week and I am afraid I do not have long to live.

I sat forward in my chair and took his hand. Oh, My Lord. What can I say?

He looked me in the eyes. What I am about to ask, you have every right to refuse so I will ask you but once and, if you assent, I will be more than delighted. However, if you find that you cannot agree, I will be just as happy to have seen you again before I die. He hesitated. The doctor said I may yet live for two, three more years or I could go within a few months. He could not be certain.

There was nothing I could say to change that so I said nothing.

I have neither wife nor child, so when I die, this place will be sold to pay death duties or, more likely, be taken over by other Lords like Robert Deveraux. If, on the other hand, I were to have wife or, even better, a son, then the property would remain in my family. He hesitated again. I am about to ask the impossible of you.

I looked him straight in the eyes. The answer is yes, My Lord. Now what is the question?

WE were married in Westminster a month later but, at the time of my saying “yes to him, I had not the slightest idea just what was involved. I only knew that, apart from my Dad, he was the nicest, kindest person I had ever met and there was just no way I could possibly say “no. The thought of riches or prestige had never entered my head.

That night, we stayed in London and I was amazed. Do you know, he actually asked my permission to make love to me? I could not believe my ears. This was a real gentleman in every sense of the word. I was apprehensive as I lay in the bed, waiting for him to come to me, but I was worrying for nothing - he was so gentle and kind. There was no force or lust involved as he made love to me quietly and painlessly and, at the shared climax, I felt a real woman.

Memories of the past abuses dissipated that night as a warm glow enveloped me. This is how love should always be shown. I longed for the act to have gone on forever but he was soon spent by the exertion and I vowed to myself that what was lacking in stamina must be made up for by frequency. No wonder dad and Sarah did this so often. It was wonderful when done properly with someone you love.

The following evening, there was a grand reception held at the Palace by the King. I had lounged about all day in total ecstasy and I couldnt stop cuddling Lord Henry. He looked so happy, too.

The Royal Banqueting Hall was full before we went downstairs. There must have been a hundred carpeted steps on that stairway and every single person in London seemed to be looking up at me all the way down to the bottom as I nervously hung onto Henrys arm and smiled as I had never smiled before.

Lord Henry and Lady Caroline Ramsden, called out the Major Domo and I nearly giggled out loud with my nervousness. I hadnt been called “Caroline in years, and never “Lady in all my life.

Faces were a blur as I was introduced to so many people that I couldnt possibly remember all the names. But then, suddenly, the Prince was there and he took my hand as I curtsied low.

He smiled broadly with his gleaming white teeth. Come, Carrie. You must meet my uncle. He has been asking after you all day.

I felt so proud as I was led across the centre of that polished floor while simply everyone watched. My heart was doing a thousand beats a minute as I was taken by the Prince to the King.

Lady Caroline, Sire, announced the Prince and I curtsied low with head bowed.

King Charles leant forwards. Dont hide your face, child. Let us look at you.

I looked up at the King of all England and he was smiling at me. Henry has chosen well, hasnt he, my dear?

I turned to look at his companion.

My aunt, prompted the Prince. Queen Henriette Marie, daughter of the King of France.

Before me, I was surprised to see a girl no more than my own age with beautiful dark hair and flawless skin. I curtsied again with head bowed. Enchanté, Votre Altesse.

The Queen smiled pleasantly. Alors. Vous parlez le Français?

I nodded quickly. Oui, Ma Reine. Je-parle bien le Français.

Then we must speak again later, my dear Caroline. Henry, where did you find such a charming girl?

Henry coughed. You could say that I stumbled on her by accident, Your Majesty. Carrie Louise is famous throughout Essex for her good works and kindnesses.

I didnt think “famous was quite the right word, “infamous more like, but I was certainly not going to contradict my new husband publicly. I looked at him and he winked.

Dinner is served, announced the voice.

Henry and I stood aside as King Charles and Queen Henriette Marie rose and went to the head of the grand table. They sat and we moved in.

The Prince appeared at my side as if out of nowhere. Lady Caroline, I would be honoured for you to sit beside me.

I curtsied and he took my hand and guided to me to my seat. I hadnt realised that sitting beside the Prince also meant sitting next to the King. The Queen smiled at me and Henry sat next to her, opposite to me.

As a matter of course, Henry had carefully schooled me in the etiquette of being a Lady at a Royal Banquet. However, that evening my memory went totally blank and I had to watch everyone else very carefully to remember what came next. The dinner was superb and seemed to go on for hours and I had a stiff neck by the end of the meal from turning from King to Prince.

I had to admit, the King was a bit full of his own importance. But then, I suppose, thats why he is King. The Prince was full of charm and his eyes were upon me constantly. I smiled back at him but was stirred deep inside by a growing terror. I had seen eyes like these before. They were not the eyes of love but eyes of lust and I had grown to recognise the two extremes as I had suffered in mind and body from not being able to tell the difference in the past. I would have to be very careful indeed, never to be found alone with these eyes.

After the meal, I was left sitting with the Queen. You speak French very well, Carrie. How did you learn?

It was my mother, Your Highness. She taught me as a child.

She frowned. Is your mother French?

No, Your Highness. But she spent many years in France with my father.

I would very much like to meet these parents of yours. Are they here tonight?

Yes, Your Highness. I looked around and caught dads eye across the room and he led Sarah across the floor to the Queen. This is my father, Jack Bosvile.

Dad bowed to the Queen.

And my mother, Sarah.

The Queen looked carefully at Sarah and then back to me. Your mother? You jest, child. Speak truth to a poor French girl and lets not have any more jokes at my expense.

I blushed and bowed low. Your Majesty. I would not jest on an occasion like this. This really is my mother.

For a long time, no-one spoke until; Then it is I who must apologise to you, my dear. She still looked at Sarah. I only hope and pray that I look half as beautiful when I have a daughter who is old enough to be married.

Henriette Marie laughed and held out her hands to Sarah who took them and curtsied. Mother looked radiant. Since giving birth to Andrew earlier in the year, the years seemed to have fallen off her.

The Queen turned to my father. Tell me about your time in France, Jack? Where did you live?

We had a house which we called La Planque, Your Highness.

The hideaway? How quaint. Was the name appropriate?

Yes, Your Highness. Sarah had been...unwell, and Doctor Merry at Yaddlethorpe recommended your country as a place where Sarah could get sun to help her to heal.

The name La Planque rings a bell somewhere. Is it in the south?

Yes, Your Highness. Near Le Vigan.

La Vallette! The Queen sat bolt upright and looked accusingly from Sarah to Dad. You were the ones at La Vallette.

I wondered what she was going to say next. People around us stopped talking at her exclamation and waited to hear her next words. I trembled inside. What had my parents been up to that could be so well known to the daughter of the King of France?

The Queen suddenly smiled mischievously and the tension evaporated as suddenly as it had appeared. The Cardinal once told me of an English couple who tried to unite the people in the valleys, and who succeeded at La Vallette. She looked at Sarah. You must be very brave.

Brave, Your Highness?

Yes. The Cardinal told me stories in my childhood of the English girl who was sentenced to be tortured to death at Avignon and how she didnt squirm or scream when red hot irons were be used on her. He also told me about how she was rescued and I suspect, somehow, that he was involved in the escape.

Yes, Your Highness, said Dad. The Cardinal took a chance with his own life that day and if it hadnt been for him, Sarah would have died very slowly and painfully. He held Sarahs hand tightly as she tried not to remember.

The Queen leant forward and whispered, But what I cannot understand is why he would do it as it is most out of character. What had you done to deserve his clemency?

It was Sarah who spoke. You wont get my husband to tell you, Your Highness. My Jack is far too modest. He had executed the traitors who had tried to kill the Kings father during the Plot. He also saved the Cardinals life when he was arrested for murder.

The Cardinal? Arrested for murder?

It was not murder, Your Highness, said dad. The man who was killed was a Captain in the Militia who was stealing the Kings money and he deserved to die. But it was not the Cardinal who did it.

The Queens lips curled sightly. You seem very sure, Jack.

I was there, Your Highness. I suppose that, in a way, I was responsible for the traitors death.

How intriguing, she said with a broad smile that showed more than a casual interest. And how else have you served the realm?

My mother came to the rescue. He has done more than most, Your Highness. But modesty will never let him reveal all. Come, Jack. Before you start blushing. Sarah bowed to the Queen. You will excuse us, Your Majesty?

The Queen bowed her head to Sarah in return as dad bowed and kissed her hand. My husband the King must hear of your bravery, Jack.

She looked at him for a long time before she let him go and turned to me. Well, Carrie Louise. I did get that right, didnt I?

I nodded and smiled at her use of the pet name Henry still used.

She smiled back as if nothing had happened. If we are to become friends, you must visit me often, and I you.

LIFE at Rettendon Hall settled to a routine as, each month, we held a reception for nobility. I felt most out of place at first, but soon fell into a pattern. Henry was wonderful and treated me with the utmost kindness. It was such a shame to see his health deteriorating slowly. The staff and I cared for him as best we could but his age was against him.

It was in the summer that I gave him my good news and he held me tight and smiled a lot. In commemoration, he declared a banquet at the end of the month. I was worried in case he over-exerted himself and he was worried that I might do too much and miscarry so I promised I would take it easy. The birth was to be as important to me as it would be to him.

The King and Queen came to our banquet in their Royal carriage with its beautiful horses. Prince Rupert was with them and I tried very hard to be pleasant. It was most embarrassing. I was in my own home and he was trying very hard to get me alone as I tried equally hard to avoid the possibility.

Eventually, I was sought out by the Queen who patted her belly gently. Well, Carrie Louise. It seems we have something in common.

I grasped her hands, forgetting who she was, and kissed her. Suddenly, I fell back, dropping her hands in horror. Your Highness, what can I say? I dont know what came over me.

The Queen reached out and took my hands again and laughed. Its the sort of spontaneous response I like, Carrie. Your reaction has made me happier than all todays formal announcements in London.

I bowed. I am here to serve you, Your Highness.

Not at all, Carrie. We two are friends. Tell me, will your father be here tonight?

Yes, Your Highness. He arrived from Yorkshire last night. He cannot make up his mind whether to live at Twigmoor Hall or at Moor Hill, in Essex. both are like home to him.

I will say no more right now, but make sure that he stays here tonight. He must sit by me at dinner. Im growing to like him very much.

I frowned. What was this girl after my father for?

I was to find out later and was ashamed of the impure motives I had attributed to her in my ignorance.

Sir John

That evening, I played my spinet. Dad had had it brought over from Moor Hill last autumn and I had spent many a cold, winter evening practising. I was by no means good but my audience clapped politely at the end and Henry then read excerpts from some of the books in his library.

Everyone looked at ease, except the Queen who looked as if she was up to something. I hoped this something did not involve bad for my Dad.

The Prince seemed to spend the entire evening ogling me and I spent the whole time avoiding him. The way he kept looking at me suggested that, given half the chance, he would bed me in a flash, claiming the use of my body as some sort of royal right. My worst fears came to a head a little later when the Queen suggested a display of swordsmanship and she chose Dad and the Prince as “competitors.

A space was cleared and, at a sign from the King, “battle commenced. Although it was a “friendly fight, fine swordsmanship was displayed on both sides. I knew dad was good and so I did not worry at all. The Prince was equally good in spite of his youth and inexperience. What I was deeply concerned about was the outcome if the Prince did not win.

In the end, neither of them won. Dads strength and experience balanced Ruperts youth and vitality perfectly. They shook hands finally and everyone clapped. I was concerned to notice that the Queen had not been watching the fight but studying me closely. She had shown so much interest in my father that I would have thought he would have been the centre of her attention. What was she up to, I wondered?

Squire Bosvile, called the Prince as they put away their swords. You and I would make a good team. Come, the King wishes to speak with you.

The room was hushed as Dad walked to the King and kneeled in front of him.

May I see your sword, Jack? said the King.

Dad handed him his long sword, hilt first over his left arm.

The King took it slowly and felt the balance. In the right hands, this is a devastating weapon, Jack. But is it in the right hands?

I do not understand, Your Majesty.

Are you loyal to the Crown, Jack?

Fathers back straightened. Sire, I am loyal to England.

The King laughed. That is not always the same thing. What of the future of England, then, Jack?

Dad held his head high as he began to say far more than was probably prudent at that time and in such hallowed company. But every word he spoke was truth.

Sire, we have a great nation. In the past, Britain has been invaded by Roman, English, Viking and Norman. We are a mixed people, and that mixture has made us what we are. Queen Elizabeth took this miserable country and put it on the map and, through her courage and determination, Britain rules the seas and we now have colonies all over the world - India, Africa and the Americas.

You speak truthful words, Jack.

Dad nodded. Through the efforts of your father, King James, we are united with Scotland, and you, Sire, have forged the union with Ireland. We are a united kingdom at last, one which cannot be defeated or invaded again. Unless... He paused. Unless... we become disunited. United, we stand, divided, we fall.

The King weighed the words carefully and did not speak. You could have heard a pin drop.

Sire, we must remain united. I have fought long and hard for this, and not just with sword. In France and in England, I have worked for unity and I shall continue to work for this, Sire. It is our only hope if we are ever to retain our true peace and prosperity.

You speak bravely and with feeling, Jack. But where do your personal loyalties lie?

With England, Sire.

Would you seek to advise me in my actions?

Certainly not, Sire. I am not a politician but a farmer and do not begin to understand all the reasons and implications of recent actions in Parliament. It would certainly not be my place to fight against you. He looked straight at the King. Or for you, for that matter.

You have been outspoken tonight, said King Charles; And England has need for men of courage instead of fops who hang on a Kings arm for favours.

I did not know if the King had anyone specific in mind when he used those words, but there were one or two embarrassed faces in that room.

The King stood up and laid Dads sword on his bowed shoulder. I pray your courage will not be misdirected. Arise Sir John Bosvile.

I was dumbstruck. My father, a knight. Although elated, I couldnt help wondering about the motives. There was something afoot and my Dad was the object of this “something. Was the King up to this something? Or the Prince? Had he manoeuvred these events? Did he think I was going to be very grateful and that now he was entitled to have the daughter, me, whenever he liked? Or was it the Queen? I couldnt help thinking that something was definitely going on.

Dad came over to us and bowed to Lord Henry and I stood up and kissed him warmly. In spite of my reservations as to motives, I was very proud of my Dad. He certainly deserved the honour in my eyes.

Sarah also came over and put her hand on dads arm and curtsied to Lord Henry. Would you be most offended if I retired, my Lord? I am very tired and there is the child to feed.

Henry smiled with understanding. Of course not, my dear Sarah. Do run along.

Dad was going to escort her but I suggested he stayed and I went with her instead. They were sleeping in the south wing and our footsteps clattered emptily down the long corridor where, at the end, was a huge Venetian mirror in an ornate gold-leaf frame. As we stood together, hand in hand, looking at our reflection, we looked even more like sisters in the dim light.

It was then that something happened which I will cherish for the rest of my life. Sarah turned and kissed me. She had never been one to show much emotion to any of us children although there was no doubt at all that she loved us. She just rarely showed it in this way. She looked at me for a long time then led me into her chamber. The maid looked up as we entered and she smiled. Sarah thanked her and the maid curtsied and left. The baby was still asleep so I helped Sarah out of her gown.

I never cease to be amazed how she keeps so young. Her still-youthful body had not a wrinkle and the marks from her previous experiences had all but vanished with the years. As I looked at her in the candlelight, I couldnt help thinking that I was now bigger than she was. Not in height, but in girth. Im not fat, you understand. Its just that I am beginning to stick out just a little at the front.

I brushed her long, black hair as she sat and fed Andrew. There is something beautiful about a bare baby suckling at its mothers breast - something natural and soothing.

My own breasts swelled with anticipation and I became aroused at the sight. Henry and I had continued with our gentle love-making until a month ago, when it had become awkward for him in his state of health. I had come to realise that I needed him often, and not just for his kindness.

I had to go. It was doing me no good watching that motherly act and I was getting myself all worked up for nothing so I kissed her gently, smoothed the hair from her forehead, and left the room, frustrated with desire. Closing the door softly, I danced down the corridor as if I was sixteen again.

He was waiting for me in the alcove by the french windows and the moonlight shone through the open curtains onto his young face.

Your Highness, I said and curtsied.

His hands were on my arms, helping me upright from my curtsy as I forced myself to smile at him. What a situation. My heart was going full bore and I was here, alone, with the very person I had spent the whole evening trying to avoid.

I should have called out but I said nothing as he pulled me gently into an open doorway and the door closed softly. I shook my head as his hands slipped the neckline of my dress from my shoulders and then closed my eyes as it fell open. His lips touched mine as his hands gently caressed the soft, smooth skin and my pent-up desire started to get the better of me. My mind fought bravely against my body. This was wrong! I was married to Henry and, moreover, didnt even like the Prince.

My mind lost the battle. Logic vanished as my dress slipped to the floor. Loyalty to my husband disappeared as the frustration of weeks allowed him to lead me to the bed.

I had never experienced so much power in a mans desire before even though I knew that we were risking my unborn child. It was that memory that brought me to my senses and sobered my desire. What was I doing here like this?

No! I cried. No more, Your Highness, please. This is wrong!

My words fell on deaf ears. There was no stopping him at this stage so I forced myself to relax until, finally, he had finished using me. I could not describe it any other way. It was not love, it was pure lust. Do you know? He was so grateful that he just went and left me lying there, naked and sweating.

I did not move for a long time after he had deserted me in search of a better source of entertainment. I still lay on the end of the bed as the shadow of clouds passed over the moon and it began to grow cold. I put my hand between my legs in an attempt to soothe the soreness resulting from the ferocity of his violation and then looked at it in the poor light. It was covered with blood.

I screamed!

John Henry

It was the maid who arrived first. She burst in, lantern in hand, and her other hand went to her face as she saw me lying there. Immediately, she called out for assistance and another girl came. Between them, they hauled me bodily onto the bed properly and covered me with blankets. One held my hand tightly while the other went for help and, in a flash, Sarah was beside me. She lifted the blankets and paled at what she saw.

Quickly, she instructed. Get hot water, clean sheets and lots of pillows.

The maid hesitated.

MOVE IT!

The maid scurried away.

Who did this? she demanded to know when we were alone.

I...I fell, I said.

With horror, I realised that this was the first time in my life I had ever lied to my mother, but I didnt fool her one little bit. However, I found that I couldnt tell her. I was afraid of what might happen, not to me, but to her. I could see her now, attacking the Prince with her sword, and then being led to the Tower for execution. I couldnt let that happen.

Did you fall? she asked sarcastically. Or were you pushed?

I didnt understand her.

Dont try to fool me, young lady, Ive been through too much not to recognise rape when I see it.

She was nearly right. However, it was not quite rape. I could have shouted out, screamed, but my own foolish desire had closed my mouth. Certainly, I had hated his violent abuse of me but, if I am honest, I had not tried too hard, at first, to resist the Princes Royal Right.

Dont worry, she said. I will see that everything is done to save your baby. I know what its like to lose one.

I was terrified at the idea of losing my child, not for my own sake but for Henrys. He was now too ill to attempt conception again so this was his one and only chance to have a child. I must not fail him now.

I will ask no questions now, Carrie, she said severely. But if this baby dies, someone else will die too, I swear it.

A sharp intake of breath came from the open doorway.

Come in, girl, shouted Sarah impatiently. Dont stand there gawping.

A small voice said, Im sorry, and we both looked towards the darkened doorway.

Sarah fell to her knees as the Queen came slowly to my bedside and took my hand. Im so sorry, Carrie.

Tears were rolling down her soft cheeks as she looked down at me.

Sarah made to leave.

Dont go, Henriette Marie said. You have the right to hear this, too.

The Queen patiently waited whilst the maid returned. She looked away very pale as Sarah cleaned me up and then pushed pillows under my legs to raise the lower half of my body.

How far are you?' asked Sarah.

Five to six months, I replied.

Then it is too soon to induce a premature birth so we must fight to keep the baby inside you for a while. Every day you keep it increases the chances of its survival. Do you understand what I am saying?

Yes, mother.

What are the chances of saving the baby? asked the Queen.

Carrie is very strong and well nourished so if she is careful and does as she is told and, she looked at me like only a mother does; Doesnt try any stupid tricks like tonight again, then she has a fifty-fifty chance of keeping the baby.

I am grateful for your honesty, Sarah, she said. Carrie, will you accept the apology of a very silly Queen?

Apology? I asked, confused. For what?

Because, she sat down on the bed and took my hand in hers, Because I am responsible for what has happened.

I blinked. You? How?

It was Rupert, wasnt it?

I hesitated, glanced at my mother, and then nodded.

We planned it together, you see, she admitted. Not all of it, I honestly hadnt dreamed it would end like this. I need to tell you it all so you can understand and, I hope, forgive me.

She hesitated for a moment.

My husband has one serious flaw. Everyone knows it but few dare admit it openly. You see, my husband is totally incapable of making any kind of a decision.

I was shocked. But, Your Highness. The King seems so positive.

Yes. On the surface, he appears strong and firm but really he is a pushover for anyone with strength of character. Over the last few years, some of his Lords he has trusted have used this to their advantage.

His own Lords?

She nodded. Certainly. Up to last year, the Duke of Buckingham was his chief advisor but he got nearly everything wrong.

But surely there is someone who can help.

Perhaps. But Charles had been taught by his father that the King of England has the right from God to do whatever he pleases. So if Parliament chose to disagree, then it was actually fighting against God. His advisors saw profit in this and used it to gain power and riches for themselves. Even when I married him, I found out later that he hadnt even made that decision totally for himself. I was disgusted and felt betrayed.

I can understand that.

However, last year, the Duke was assassinated and the Kings other advisors are being slowly silenced by threats from Parliament. Suddenly, for the first time in his life, he stands alone. I feel sorry for him and am trying to help him. But, it seems, I am not an advisor and cannot help him much.

She looked sad and I suddenly felt very sorry for her.

What he needs... she continued; ...is a man at his side who is fearless, who will be loyal no matter what. When I heard about your father, I knew he could be that man.

But why?

Because your father has battled against all odds for a principle he felt strongly about. You, Sarah, have repeatedly risked life and limb to support him and that is a rare quality today, one I can recognise and appreciate. You, Carrie, went on a one-way journey into a lunatic asylum to save your mother from a fate worse than death and I have heard about what happened and am in awe of your courage and fortitude.

I only did what I had to do.

Yes. But in my eyes, you appeared to be the ideal family to support us. You were not royalty, so would be seen by Parliament as unbiased. Your Jack is brave and strong. He would not give in, even in the very face of death. So I...I started to manoeuvre events in the only way that I could see.

Im sorry. I dont understand.

Well. If I could get your father knighted, he might have felt a moral obligation to the Crown. I also know that Henry is dying and will not last much longer. If I could persuade the Prince to flatter you, to befriend you, perhaps even to court you when your husband was gone, then a marriage could result that would reinforce the bond completely.

She paused to say something which was obviously difficult for her. I had no idea he would go so far, please believe me. It is all my fault. If I knew he would do this...I...I. Tears poured from her eyes. Carrie, if your baby dies, I must die, too.

I found that my hand was on her head, stroking her hair, and gradually the tears subsided. Sarah stood in the shadows. What was she thinking? How would she react?

Slowly, she came over and gently put her hand on the Queens arm and helped her to her feet. I think Carrie will best be helped by sleep now. I will stay with her, night and day, until she is well. Please be assured that everything will be done that can be done. I want to thank you for coming.

Sarah led the Queen out of the room. At the door she paused and, taking her own handkerchief out, wiped the Queens eyes and face.

Now smile, my mother commanded the Queen of England.

IT was two days before Sarah would let anyone in to see me. Dad and Henry came in together.

Well, Carrie, said my father. How are you recovering from your fall?

Sarah had not yet let me sit up so I simply waved. Im all right, dad, and Im very pleased to see you. You too, my Lord. How are you?

Not well, my child. But I will not burden you with my problems, you seem to have enough of your own.

I took his hand. Will you promise me something, my Lord?

Yes, Carrie Louise. Anything.

Please dont...dont...go...till youve held your son.

He laughed. How do you know it will be a son?

It will be, I promise. I feel it in my bones. Something good has to happen soon.

Then I will promise you, Carrie Louise. I will hold my son before I die. You have my word on it.

We all laughed at that.

I was never to get up from that bed until the baby was born and, even with all Sarahs precautions, it came a month early - full of energy and I named the child “John Henry after both his father and grandfather.

Sarah and I then had the most furious argument. She ordered me to stay in bed but I blatantly disobeyed her and got out of bed immediately after the birth and walked out of that room, along the corridor, up the long flight of stairs and into the master bedroom where I carefully placed my son into the arms of his father. I had not noticed the pain, nor the effort Id put into that long walk, nor the trail of blood that Id left behind me. I saw my son safely into the arms of his father and then passed blissfully into unconsciousness.

When I came round, I was in my own bed.

Sarah lay beside me and was breast-feeding my baby. As I awoke, she took the baby from her own breast and opened the front of my shift and placed my baby inside.

I cannot describe that beautiful feeling. That tiny little scrap warm and close to me, frantically sucking at my breast.

Sarah got up and picked something up from the floor. It was a length of rope. And if you so much as try to get up again, young lady, I promise that I will tie you to the bed myself.

Grandmothers!

Discoveries

I saw very little of Queen Henriette during that last six months Henry and I had together. There were at least two possible reasons. Firstly, a month after I had given birth to John Henry, the Queen gave birth herself to a son who was named Charles after his father. Secondly, I think everyone realised that this period was very special to us. It is also possible that there may have been a certain amount of embarrassment on her part and I vowed to rectify that situation as soon as appropriate.

What had started as a marriage of convenience for Henry in the eyes of many, was becoming regarded highly. Even the pessimists saw how close we were and their laughs died in their throats. It was a period of time I shall never forget as long as I live.

I stood at the graveside in silence, holding my son tightly in my arms. Well-intentioned attenders had suggested that a funeral was not the place for a young child but I ignored them. He was too young to take in the mourning, too innocent to see the sad faces grouped around us that cool spring morning, and too ignorant to realise the implications of his fathers death.

I promised myself that my son would not suffer from his lack of father in spite of the fact that, at twenty-one years of age, I was going to have to be both father and mother to him. I had asked that few come to the graveside although the church had been packed with friends and colleagues from all over the kingdom.

Henry had been the last of the old school. Along with Lord Fairfax of Cameron, he had been one of the moderating factors in the House of Lords and was respected as such by both sides of Parliament but, now, the division would widen. Charles had taken his supposed Divine Right as King to the limit and opposition to that was inevitable.

Having been confronted by Sir John Eliot, John Pym and Thomas Wentworth, he had been forced to sign the Petition of Right which restricted his powers of arrest and the raising of taxes.

The country had been in bad financial straits since the days of Queen Elizabeth. She had made Britain a mighty nation, but at what cost? Britain was plunged deep into the red by the financing of explorations and conquerings world wide.

Since then, the Kings father had done little to rectify matters and now Charless squandering ways had plunged the country close to bankruptcy. The raising of taxes had been the safety valve but, instead of cutting back, economising, Charles simply spent the extra money gained, and there was a limit to how much the taxes could be raised. The Petition of Right was designed to force the King to economise in his misuse of public funds. He desperately needed a strong ally.

Against all logic, he found it in Thomas Wentworth. A supporter of Parliament for some time, he suddenly changed sides and was appointed Lord Lieutenant of Ireland by the King. This caused no little stir in Parliament. It was as if no-one could be trusted and anyone could be bought. It did nothing to ease the tension that was developing.

My Dad had kept well out of it. The King had tried to persuade him to go to London to take charge of his bodyguard, but Dad had wanted no part in the side-taking and side-swapping that was going on and still wanted to stay neutral. He hadnt a cat in hells chance of doing so, but he was determined at this stage.

He wanted to work at preventing Civil War, not to promote it.

JOHN Henry and I settled into a routine of our own. Rettendon Hall was big and empty without Lord Ramsden although Jenkins agreed to stay on as butler, Gresham stayed as coachman-cum-groom and Annie as cook-cum-housekeeper. The others either left or I paid off although Annie had help from the village when she needed it for cleaning and catering.

One summer morning, I decided to explore. It seems strange to look back on it, that I had lived at Rettendon for nearly two years and had not yet seen all the house.

Annie was on her day off and Jenkins and Gresham had gone to the market at Chelmers Ford and it was the first time I had been alone in that big old house. I strolled along the long corridor beside the french windows with John Henry waddling behind. He was not yet a year old but was walking after a fashion and beginning to form simple words. He was my very life and soul during those summer months.

I was already getting a tan. I had cleared the balcony to the south bedroom and, on warm days, I could slide a small cot out onto it and John Henry and I would soak up the sun all over. If Sarah could do it at her home, I didnt see why I could not do it in mine.

There was one room which had never been opened again over the last year and I had not seen the Prince since that terrible evening. I believe the Queen used her influence to restrain his visits and activities. I stood outside that door now and John Henry, in his ignorance of what had taken place, leant on the door and banged with his tiny fists. Steeling myself, I reached out and opened the door.

The room was dark as I went across and drew the curtains to allow light to flood into the room which had been left as it was after the baby had been born.

I looked around at the doorway, where I had been accosted, at the floor where my clothes had been dumped, at the bed where John Henry had nearly never come to be. I fought the stirring in my bones but I told myself that it had been a terrible experience, that I had been forcibly taken by someone I did not even like. I thought of the pain, the humiliation. Unfortunately, I wasnt very convincing. Its bad enough having an argument with yourself. Whats worse, is losing it.

I did miss Henry so; his love and kindness, his humour and understanding. Wed had but a few months together and now, there was a hole in my life. I must fill it somehow or I will become self-centred and conceited.

Closing the door firmly, ghosts now laid to rest, I carried John Henry to the end of the corridor. We stood looking in that big Venetian mirror together, as Sarah and I had done that night. John Henry pointed at himself and giggled. I waved and he waved back. It was silly, but havent you ever done it?

I put my head into the room where Dad and Sarah had stayed and my memory pictured Sarah there with her baby, both of them naked in the candlelight. Suddenly, I had one of those crazy ideas we all have from time-to-time so I put John Henry on the bed and slipped off his gown and then, reaching down for the hem, I pulled my thin, summer dress over my head. We stood again in front of the mirror and this was much better. We looked just like Sarah and my baby brother, Andrew.

Without music, we danced together there in that wide corridor with the sun beaming through the french windows. What a pair we were, laughing and giggling together as we swung round and round, naked as the day we were born. The sun passed briefly behind a cloud and a chill ran through the house. I must be daft. If Jenkins were to return now, hed have a heart attack. If Gresham came, hed blush for a week and I would never be able to look him in the face again.

With regret, I put my dress back on and John Henrys gown, and slipped barefoot up the east staircase. I had never been up there before and all the rooms were in darkness. Heavy curtains prevented the light from penetrating and fading the furniture. Dust sheets covered all. Very boring.

The last door was not a room at all but a narrow wooden staircase so I clutched my baby tightly to me and crept softly up to the loft. My head gingerly cleared the top step and my eyes opened wide. There were things everywhere, open chests full of cloths and materials of all sorts. There was enough light for me to see the huge frames of covered paintings.

I looked at all the paintings. These should be on display, not covered with rags up here. There was one of Henry when he was about twenty. How handsome he looked in his blue uniform, his sword in his hand. This one must go up in the main entrance hall to remind me forever of his presence. I started looking through a large trunk on the floor and found a jewel handled dagger with a long, sharp blade and slipped in into the cloth belt of my dress. Also, I found a beautiful sapphire brooch which I pinned to my dress. It was probably worth a fortune and looked most out of place on my simple summer dress.

High up in the roof was an attic window which I could not reach so I pulled over a chest to stand on and found that, if I stood on tiptoe, I could just see out across the countryside. I lifted John Henry up for a look but he was not terribly impressed.

It was then that I saw something familiar. There was a building between the trees about a mile away that I had seen before and the memory brought a chill which ran up my spine as I nearly fell from the chest. I should have realised from earlier memory, just how close the asylum had been as Dad and I had come here the night I had escaped.

It was suddenly very cold indeed in that loft and I nearly fell down the stairs in my haste to get out of that room. I lay panting on my bed, John Henry on top of me, until my breathing got back to somewhere near normal. My heart however, had a different idea. In spite of my relaxing, it beat at double-speed at the memory of the cruel treatment dealt to me in that forbidding place.

Just then, the sound of carriage wheels reached my ears and I suddenly made up my mind. I left my sleeping baby on the bed and ran down the main staircase just as Jenkins and Gresham were entering the front door.

Gresham, my horse, I instructed. Im going to the asylum.

You should have seen the look on their faces. Here was their revered employer, a lady, running (running, I ask you) barefoot about the house and demanding to be taken to a lunatic asylum. Was she mad?

No, My Lady, Jenkins said.

I stopped. What?

If the master were alive, he would forbid it. I respectfully decline to allow you to go to such a place.

Jenkins, I said, going close to him and smiling cheekily. Im going.

His eyes eventually dropped as he relented. But, My Lady, if you are determined, please do not go alone.

Very well. I turned to the coachman. Gresham, we will take the coach.

I ran upstairs to change while Gresham smiled to himself and unloaded the produce while Jenkins stood and shook his head. Choosing my best going-out dress, I put my riding boots on underneath. If I was going to put my foot down, it was not my feet which were going to get hurt.

As I folded my summer dress, the jewelled dagger fell from the belt and, as I was feeling dangerous, I slipped it into the top of my right boot. I lifted the hem of my dress and stomped down the stairs, much to Greshams amusement. He had never seen a lady in a posh dress and riding boots before. I gave him a devastating look and marched, head high, out of the front door to the waiting coach.

THE asylum had not changed a bit and, in spite of the bright sunlight, it still looked dark and depressing. Gresham held my hand as I descended from the coach trying desperately to look like a lady.

I glanced at him in passing and said, Stay!

The Manager came to the door and opened it for me as I pushed past him. Lady Ramsden. This is indeed a pleasant surprise.

I have come on an inspection, I informed him politely but firmly. I wish to see...everything.

The little man ran after me. If I had known you were coming, My Lady, I would have got things ready for you.

Yes, I thought wickedly, and hidden some things, Ill bet. I pushed into the dining room and a hush fell on the room.

I looked at the disgusting gruel they had been fed. Do you like fruit?

They all looked at each other. Some nodded.

Then tomorrow, I shall bring you fruit from my fathers orchard.

There was uproar. It had been years since some of them had tasted anything but that foul slop.

I spent the next hour going round and speaking to several who had looked after me the night when the previous guards had attempted to freeze me to death.

It was as I was leaving that I passed the foot of the stairs and saw a new face. A girl of about twelve stood at the top in her brief shift, looking down at me. As I started up the stairs towards her, a man came out of a room and pushed her away so I went right past him and caught the girl by the shoulders. I dropped to my knees and faced her. What is your name, child?

She did not answer.

I smiled at her. Its okay. My name is Carrie. It is short for Caroline. Whats yours?

Still no response.

You wont get anything out of her, the man said. Shes dumb.

I glanced at him briefly and persevered. Ive come here to help you. Do you understand?

She looked at the man with fear in her eyes.

Its all right, I promised. I wont let him hurt you.

The little girl looked at me for a long time, trying to sum up whether she could trust me or not.

Did he hurt you? I asked gently.

She looked at him again then back to me and nodded.

Heart in my mouth, I asked How did he hurt you?

She didnt need a tongue to answer as her eyes involuntarily went upward to the rope hanging from the beam.

In a wild fury, I suddenly stood erect and lashed out. My riding crop caught the man full in the face and he fell back against the wall as I stood on tiptoe, my face inches from his. Youre fired!

You cant do that, he said stubbornly.

No? Just you watch me.

His hand fell on my shoulder as I turned to go down the stairs and he pulled me back and raised his hand to hit me. It was then that a strange look came over his face.

He was a man and, therefore, not in the habit of openly displaying fear or pain and I must say he tried very hard to keep a straight face with the muscles on his neck standing out like ropes. With a tremendous show of self-control, he held back his hands from going to the place where my knee had just connected. You see, like my mother, there are times when I am not much of a lady either.

If you are still here when I call tomorrow, I said through my teeth, my face almost touching his. I will have you put in the stocks at Wyke Ford and publicly flogged.

As I got to the doorway, Gresham stood back, smiling, and clapping silently.

I glared back at him and his face fell but, as I climbed into the coach, I stopped, smiled mischievously at him, and said; Thank you, Mark.

Ill bet he blushed all the way home.

Double Trouble

In fact, I didnt go straight home. I ordered the coachman to take me to Moor Hill. As the coach rolled into the farmyard amongst squawking chickens, Sarah ran out to see what all the commotion was about. She had just come in from the orchard with an apron full of apples and Rachel followed with a large basket of pears.

At nine, my sister was beginning to look quite a big girl. She put down her basket and ran to meet me as I stepped down from the coach. She threw herself at me, her arms wrapped tightly around my neck and her feet off the ground.

Steady, my chick, I protested. Else youll have us both over.

She looked over my shoulder at Gresham and grinned. Your coach driver is very good-looking, isnt he, Carrie?

I looked at her aghast. What are these nine-year-old girls coming to these days? Gresham sat on the coach looking straight ahead, his face a bright shade of scarlet as Sarah came up to me and we embraced warmly. Grabbing a mother and sister in each hand, I walked towards the house. As we got to the back door, I stopped and called to the coachman. Come on then.

He hesitated, then climbed down and followed at a distance until we all sat and drank cool cider in the scullery. I dont think Gresham had been in a real, lived-in home for a long time, if ever. I expect Henry felt sorry for him one day and gave him a job. That would have been just like him.

I put down my mug. Mother, I need your help.

I think it was the term by which I had addressed her that ensured I had her complete attention. Briefly, I explained what had happened at the asylum and what I planned to do about it. I am sure she joined Jenkins in wondering at my sanity in visiting the place again. However, she was in full agreement with my plans. Fruit was loaded into the coach until it was almost full to the roof and she insisted that I was not to pay, it was a gift. She had suffered as much as I had so she, too, had a score to settle.

The details of our plan were finalised, and I left as the sun touched the trees of Asheldham Woods. There was no room in the coach so I rode on top with Gresham. He was most upset. Whoever they are, nice young ladies do not ride on top with the coachman. It just isnt done.

THE next morning, Gresham had cleared enough of the inside of the coach for me to get inside. It was one thing for him to have me sit on top in the dark but quite another to be embarrassed by my presence beside him in broad daylight.

As we rolled to a stop in the courtyard beside the front door of the asylum, I stepped down and let my dress hem fall to the ground before anyone caught a glimpse of those forbidden riding boots. I went in the door as Gresham began to unload the baskets of fruit. The warder stood at the top of the stairs waiting for me so, without hesitation, I climbed them, my head held high. At the top, I faced him. He was alone, the others had heeded my warning and fled for their lives.

I looked him straight in the eyes. Why are you still here?

Because you cant make me go, he said with a sly grin. I like it here.

But you are no longer employed here. I sacked you.

You dont have the right.

Dont I? I said and, raising my riding crop, I brought it down at him.

However, it didnt connect this time. His big hand caught my wrist and twisted it behind me. The pain shot up my shoulder as I dropped the crop to the tiled floor. He didnt let go but then pulled me roughly to him, my arms trapped, remembering this time to keep his vulnerable parts well clear of my knees.

Not so brave now, are we, Your Ladyship? I think it is time you and I had a little fun together.

It was the sharp pain in the back of his neck which prevented him doing further harm. Slowly and carefully, he looked round, his gaze moving down the sword blade to the gloved hand and his eyes opened wide as he looked from one to the other of us. Sarah pushed a little and he let go my arm and finished up against the far wall. Unlike myself, she had on her cape and riding breeches.

Take your clothes off, she said.

He hesitated until Sarah prodded and drew a little blood. She was in no mood for niceties and would quite happily have pinned him to the wall if I hadnt previously begged her not to.

Hurriedly, he dropped his shirt to the floor and then, after a moment, he undid his belt and his breeches followed. Sarah then handed me the belt and hook she had taken from the office and I fastened it to his wrists.

The hook went into the loop and his hands were above his head although it took the both of us to pull on the rope to lift his feet clear of the floor. He hung there as I had done not so long ago.

At that moment, the young girl shuffled along the corridor and looked up, open mouthed, at him. I placed my arm around her shoulders and she turned to face me. Carefully, she reached into the top of her dress and took out a scrap of paper. In an almost-unintelligible scrawl, it simply read; “Julie.

I fought back the tears at this first sign of positive recognition and forced myself to stand before I burst out crying.

You cant do this, the man was screaming. Leave me alone, I tell you.

Sarah and I looked at each other and at the gathering crowd of women. Very well then. Come on, Julie. Lets go and have a cup of wine.

We started down the stairs and, with horror, he looked around him at the determined faces of the women he had abused as they advanced towards him.

No! he shouted to us. You cant leave me here.

He twisted wildly in an attempt to free himself. I had tried that but it didnt work. His own colleagues had designed that belt and hook so that it got tighter as you struggled and, as I had discovered personally, anyone hanging there was totally at the mercy of the attacker.

Wont they hurt him badly? Sarah asked as we entered the office.

I hope so, I said with a grin. I really do hope so.

We sat drinking wine in the kitchen, listening to the faint sound of his cries in the distance. At the first blood-curdling scream of agony, I had almost regretted our action. But then I looked down into Julies pained eyes and a sudden deaf spell came over me.

They wont kill him will they? Sarah asked, not too concernedly.

No, I said. This is an asylum and they arent even allowed cutlery in here. Hell be hurt, maybe badly, but I expect hell live. Not that it really matters very much. He deserves everything he gets.

After about half an hour, it became quiet so I took Julie outside and sat her in my coach then went back inside with Sarah. We went up the stairs together and found that the women had taken their revenge and had quietly gone back to their rooms.

The man was a pitiable sight and barely conscious. There was some blood to be seen as well as an awful lot of bruises and wheals all over him. But he would live.

Sarah drew her sword and slashed at the rope and he collapsed in a heap on the floor. Together, we took hold of the rope and dragged him, face down, across the floor, down that long flight of stone steps, along the corridor, down the outer steps, across the gravel drive and dumped him on the front lawn.

I threw his clothes down beside him as he stirred and groaned in pain. Dont bother to come back.

Going back inside, I selected several of the women I knew were quite sane and appointed them in charge. I will come each day to make sure you have everything you need and, at the end of the week, I shall go to London to see the Queen to find out what can be done on a more permanent basis. In the meantime, we must care for ourselves, can we do it?

I was overwhelmed by the response. There were certainly some very strange people here that would need professional supervision and they were probably beyond anyones help. But how could I judge?

Look what had happened to my mother. She had been as good as dead at one stage and, even when recovered physically, she had been mad - to put it quite bluntly. Now she is as sane as you and I. Well, me, anyway. But, maybe, with some kind of medical and psychiatric help, some of these poor souls could regain their sanity.

Many of the others were not mad at all. Some were simply deaf, others dumb, like Julie, and not the slightest bit mad. What we needed was someone who was qualified to tell the difference between the mentally sick and the inconvenient.

When we got back outside, the warder had gone. I was sure we had seen the last of him.

Famous last words!

SARAH stayed on for a week, but without further incident. We had ensured that the inmates were safe and well cared for. Tomorrow, I was going to London to see the Queen.

It was very hot that night as I lay on my bed, covered in but a single sheet. John Henry lay under the bedcloth with me, his small body perched upon my bare belly, his mouth to my breast. The net curtains moved gently in the slight breeze as the bright moonlight cast a white beam across the room.

It was then that I saw him.

At first, he was just a shadow against the pale wall and I frantically started to look around for a something with which to defend myself, but my pistol was unprimed and in the drawer behind him. Slowly, he came over to the bed and the suddenly reached down and snatched my baby, taking the sheet with him.

Dont you dare make a sound, he whispered hoarsely.

I nodded and frantically tried to cover myself with my hands as he stared down at me, my body caught in the full glare from the window.

Well then, Your Ladyship. The boot is on the other foot now, isnt it?

My eyes roved desperately around the room, looking for something, anything, while he held John Henry with his big hand around the childs neck.

He grinned. Youve not got your big sister to defend you now, have you?

You wont get away with this. Ill have you put away for good.

Only if you survive, my dear. He stepped closer, holding John Henry in one hand as he tried to unfasten his belt with the other.

What are you going to do? I was stupid enough to ask.

He grinned. I am gonna going to hurt you so bad it will make you wish you had stayed well out of my life.

Please dont, I said quietly.

Too late, slut, he said as he dropped John Henry onto the bed. Lie back on the bed and put your hands above your head. If you lower them even for one moment, I will kill your baby, do you understand?

My baby was still within his reach so I nodded. I lay back across my bed, completely naked, and stretched my hands above my head in total subjection. As I did, my hand touched my boots at the other side of the bed.

I saw him smile in the faint light as he wrapped one end of the stout leather belt around his hand. I held my breath. I had first imagined he would rape me but I could see now that this was not his intention. I closed my eyes, waiting for him to thrash me. But where would the first blow come? In the face? Across my exposed breasts?

As I tensed myself, waiting for that first stinging blow, my hand felt something solid at the top of my right boot. Something long and thin.

I opened my eyes at the realisation of what I had found. As he raised his belt, I brought my hands back over my head with all my might and he grunted with pain and staggered back, blood pumping from the deep gash in his throat. I stood up and two-handedly plunged the blade into his stomach as he staggered backwards through the french windows and my hands rose and fell twice more before the back of his knees came up against the low parapet.

In spite of the wounds I had inflicted upon him, his eyes still stared back at me defiantly as his bloodied hands reached out and encircled my throat. His grip was strong and I could feel myself slipping almost immediately as he began to crush my windpipe. Instinctively, I moved and the knife went in under his ribs. I pushed upwards with all my pent-up anger and he was dead before he hit the patio below.

Wiping his blood from my hands onto his shirt, I picked up my baby and sheet and lay on the bed, trembling, for a long time before I finally fell into a sleep full of nightmares.

THERE was one almighty stir in the morning. By mid-morning, the news was all over the village. By noon, it had reached Chelmers Ford and, by evening, I was telling the Queen. I had gone in the coach to Greenwich on the off-chance and she had been very glad to see me. We had swapped babies for a while and compared notes.

Your Highness, I finally got around to asking her. How do I go about getting the law changed?

What do you mean, Carrie?

Well, because of the new Petition of Right, a person cannot now be jailed without due cause and a fair trial. But what can happen is that a person can, instead, be committed to an asylum pending examination.

Yes...?

But the problem is, there never is an examination. Lets say that a perfectly sane person kills someone in the heat of the moment. It was not premeditated and is, therefore, not murder. A court now has the ability to send a person to the asylum because he killed “while the balance of his or her mind was disturbed.

You mean like your mother was?

Exactly. Sarah is unusual at times, I admit that, but she is definitely not a mental case. The problem is, no evaluation of the patient takes place, then or later. At the asylum, there are some pretty weird people but there are also some perfectly sane ones. How does one tell the difference? I cant, I am not qualified.

I suppose you need a doctor. But where would we find one for every asylum we have in England?

What is needed, initially, is simply a very good judge of human nature and behaviour. He could make the initial diagnosis and a doctor could be then called in for the difficult cases.

Wouldnt we be risking having a load of potentially dangerous murderers let loose?

Thats a good point. We certainly wouldnt want that to happen. Each case would have to be judged on its own merit. You see, the man who died at our house last night was far more dangerous than any of the inmates at the asylum. He and his colleagues, to my knowledge, have repeatedly abused the women patients when they were not in a position to defend themselves. And then there is little Julie. She has been there less than a week and I fear that they might have started to abuse her, too. Tears rolled down my face. Your Highness, she is just turned twelve years old and she is pregnant.

The Queens arm was around my shoulders, comfortingly as I sobbed my heart out. You mustnt blame yourself, Carrie. You could not have done more for her and for the others.

After a while, I dried my eyes. I want to keep Julie with me at Rettendon, if you approve.

Of course. You will care for her better than anyone else mn the world. I have a feeling she will speak one day and if anyone can bring that about, you can.

In the meantime, I would like to have a formal examination made of all the patients and a report compiled. Can I do that?

Yes, Carrie. Do that. But be careful not to go too far. There are some who use the system to their advantage. Puritans who have found sin in the congregation. Churchmen who get the idea that a girl is a witch because she doesnt tow the line. Squires who can use the system for disposing of ungrateful virgins. None of these will take too kindly to your interfering.

You speak plainly, Your Highness, and I am grateful.

One more thing.

Yes, Your Highness.

If you call me “Your Highness once more when we are alone, you will not be welcome here as a friend. Reserve formal titles for public occasions. Privately, I am Henriette to you.

Yes, Henriette. Thank you, Henriette.

And Carrie.

Yes?

Bon Chance.

Merci, ma bonne amie.

Julie

A week later, I arrived at Yaddlethorpe and Gresham held my hand as I stepped carefully down from the coach. I must have looked apprehensive for he squeezed it reassuringly before he let go to assist Julie.

He and I had grown quite close of late as we seemed to understand each others moods and feelings. There was nothing “going on, you understand. Perish the thought. I believe Mark would have blushed for a week if he had even thought about it.

Yaddlethorpe was virtually one street with a few scattered cottages and had probably changed little since the Danes had established an outlying farm there, allied to Ashby.

Several people came out to gaze at the coach which had brightened up their day and given them something to gossip about for weeks. I smiled at them before bowing my head under the wistaria which had spread across the porch, straightening my dress, and knocking on the old wooden door.

George Merry opened the door himself and looked surprised. He peered at me. Sarah?

I smiled. No, doctor. Im Carrie, Sarahs daughter.

Carrie, what a pleasant surprise. How lovely to see you. Come in, come in.

As he closed the door behind me, I held the teenager in front of me. Doctor Merry, I would like you to meet Julie.

George shook Julies hand formally and looked at the smiling face, long fair hair and pretty new dress.

She cannot speak, I told him. She is dumb.

Poor child, he said as he sat down and took her by the shoulders.

Julie looked at me with sudden fear in her eyes but I smiled and reassured her so she relaxed as Doctor Merry examined her briefly.

Is Mrs Merry well, I havent seen her?

He looked down at the floor. Im afraid Janet passed away last month. Im alone now.

Oh, I am sorry, I replied with genuine sadness. Then I have no right to pose the question I came here to ask.

On the contrary, I may have retired as a Medical Practitioner but I am still interested in people, my dear.

Yes, you are very kind. Forgive me. I came because of a problem I have.

He finished with Julie and bade her sit beside him.

I am trying to get the law changed on admissions to lunatic asylums, I continued. Presently, people are admitted or sentenced to go there for a number of reasons, not all of them medical. They are often not examined by a qualified person and can remain there indefinitely, with no hope of release. I have obtained the Queens permission to conduct an experiment at the asylum near to us.

He frowned. What kind of an experiment?

To try to find out which ones are really ill and which are simply victims of circumstances. I need help in determining the mental condition of the new patients on admission and also those who have been there some time. That is where I hoped you would come in.

But my dear, there are plenty of new doctors around who have better modern knowledge of illnesses and medicine than I have. I am very out of date these days, especially since I retired.

What I am after is not a young whiz-kid, but a down-to-earth judge of human nature and behaviour. Some medical knowledge would be needed for the person who is making the decision to have credibility in court. I would like to think I am a fair judge of human nature when I say that I believe you are that man.

He looked sad. I dont know, Carrie. I am old now. I have been here all my life. My home. My friends.

I understand, doctor. It was wrong of me to ask. I paused. May I tell you about Julie before I leave?

He looked at the girl. Of course.

Last week, I took Julie to see my father. As you know, he had spent a lot of time with someone called Smith, who was deaf and dumb. Between them, they had developed excellent sign language communication. As a result, my dad was able to communicate with Julie for a whole day and his eyes were wet when he told me her story. I, myself, cried all night afterwards. I pray you will at least hear me out now.

He waited patiently for me to start.

Doctor, I said. Julie is just twelve years old. What you may not have noticed is the fact that she is pregnant.

The old healer looked aghast. He had looked at her throat, not her belly, so he now made her stand up and lift her dress while he examined her carefully. She looked frightened as he gently probed all over the abdomen and confirmed that this was no “phantom. Her dress fell back into place and the old man held her tight.

From as early as she can remember, she has been sexually abused by her father. It was a daily occurrence that, in the end, began to feel almost natural. Her mother had no idea, of course.

How was it done? How far did he go? Do you know?

I paced the floor, screwing my fingers together in an effort to keep my emotions from destroying my speech.

At first, her father was very careful but it could not be concealed for ever. Incidentally, Julie has not spoken since that day. She must have had a deep sense inside her which told her it was very wrong. However, she remained loyal to her father. In the end, her mother found out and she killed him with a kitchen knife and then threw herself off the roof. Julie was left on her own until, eventually, someone determined that because she was an orphan who could not speak, then the best place for her was an asylum.

How long had been there?

I cant be exactly sure, but I believe about a month.

Then you know what this means. I would say that her unborn child is well over two months old.

I sat down suddenly. Oh, my goodness.

You might well be concerned, Carrie. Her own father was almost certainly the father of the child she is now carrying.

That means...

Mental deformity, almost certainly. Doctor Marsh would probably recommend abortion.

Abortion?

Yes. Terminate the pregnancy. Take the baby away.

Julie let out a long scream. No! no! Dont let him take away my baby.

She spoke! Leaping from the doctors arms, she flung her arms round my neck. Please dont let them take my baby away, Carrie.

Julie, I said, desperate to reassure her. Look at me.

She pulled back a bit.

I promise, cross my heart and hope to die, that no-one, and I mean no-one, is going to take your baby away from you. Do you understand what I am saying?

She put her arms back round my neck and held me tight as I looked at the doctor with pleading eyes.

He stood up. Id better start packing.

IN fact, Julie and I stayed there for a week before we returned to Essex. George had strongly recommended that Julie stop her horse riding activities for the time being and she was sad but understood. Now that she had got her tongue back, there was no stopping her. She spent her time chattering endlessly to the doctor as she helped him to pack his things.

On the Tuesday, Mark and I rode over to Twigmoor. The Hall was still empty and it was difficult to say who actually owned it. Originally, it had been bought by Guido Fawkes as a hideout for the northern wing of the Plot gang. But he has been dead for over twenty years. It had been used by the remnants of the gang afterwards but they were now all dead, too, as dad had arranged their execution. It had stood empty for all that time until we had lived there as a family for a year or so.

Mark and I dismounted beside the big front of the house and I unlocked the door and entered. It was still dark inside and had returned to being just a hollow shell. When Dad and Sarah had returned to Moor Hill, they had taken most of their things with them.

We looked around the ground floor and I showed him the underground stables where he was fascinated with the ingenious design. His previous visit had been a short one when he had brought the letter from Lord Henry, and I had returned to Rettendon with him. How things had changed since that day. The snow was long gone, of course, from the back bedrooms but the hole had not been mended in the roof and birds were nesting in the room itself. We stood and watched a pair of tits feeding their young despite our presence and it was my turn to squeeze his hand.

Many of the locals believed the Hall to be haunted, but I had seen no ghosts. However, I can understand why they would think so. There was one ghost, however, that needed laying to rest so I persuaded Mark to break down the boards on the door to the attic and cautiously made my way up the stairs, my heart in my mouth. The room was empty except for an iron-framed bed and, attached to it were the thongs which had been cut.

What is this place? he asked from behind me. What happened here?

This, my dear friend, is where my mother lived for a year.

Here? he said, disbelievingly. In this tiny room?

Yes, in this room. You see those dark stains on the mattress? That is her blood.

I thought he was going to have a fit.

She was imprisoned here for a year with twelve men. Would you like to know what they did to her?

No, thank you, he said quietly. I can use my imagination.

I laughed at his sombre look. Your imagination couldnt cope with what happened here, Mark. You are far too innocent for your own good.

He looked at me then. My Lady. You cannot possibly conceive what my imagination does to me at times. When I lay in bed at night and think, I am tormented beyond belief.

Mark, you surprise me, I said, a little puzzled by his sudden honesty. Tell me. Where does your imagination lead you?

He looked down. I cannot tell you, you will laugh.

I promise not to laugh, I said and playfully put my arms around his neck.

He raised his eyes to mine. To you, my Lady.

My arms dropped from his neck and I stood back and fell onto the bed. Mark, I had no idea. How long has this been happening?

Right from the night when you rode with me on the top of the coach. Since then, I think of you in the day and dream of you at night. Im sorry, my Lady.

He dropped his head and held his cap in his hands. I stood up and faced him as, slowly and gently, he placed a hand on each of my arms. I closed my eyes as he gently kissed my forehead and was gone. As confused as I was relieved, I went slowly down the stairs and closed the attic door firmly. As I emerged into the bright sunlight, Mark handed me the reins of my horse and we mounted without another word being said.

A sudden compulsion came over me. I got up early and shook Gresham awake. Mark, get up. I want to go to Hellaby.

He tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes. Hellaby, My Lady? Where is that?

Its not far from here, in Yorkshire. Its where my father was born and I have relatives there. We have the time as George will not be ready to leave until at least Saturday.

Very well, he said, sitting up in bed. I will get the coach ready.

No, Mark. I want to ride.

But, My Lady...

The coach is all right when it is raining or cold but, today, the sun is shining already so I want to ride in the sunshine. I want to feel free - to have the wind in my hair. You do understand, dont you?

Yes, My Lady. All except the bit about the wind.

I ruffled his short cropped hair and laughed. Youll have to grow it long like the King.

Certainly not, he said seriously. I am a coachman, not a King. I know my place.

I smiled. Mark, I never doubted it for a moment.

Im going to have to stop this, people will talk. A lady shouldnt be in her coachmans room dressed only in her night-shift. I suspect that Mark wore even less so I dashed out of the room before the devil in me tried to peek.

George and Julie agreed to look after John Henry for me so we set off after breakfast. I only knew that Hellaby was south and west of Twigmoor. My Dad had told me that much.

The Trent at Stockwythe was sluggish and full of weeds while water birds chirped from the reeds and ducks swam from bank to bank. It was a beautiful day as we followed the course of the Idle as far as Bawtry and then headed due west across Spital Hill. We had lunch at Tickhill in sight of the old castle and ate fresh cheese that was available from the dairy and apples from the market. After that, we sat together on the grass and watched the children at play.

Mark, I said eventually. If I ask you a personal question, will you answer me honestly?

Of course, My Lady.

Please, Mark. Not “My Lady - anything but that. Carrie, Carrie Louise, even Caroline if you really must be formal. But no more of “My Lady when we are alone together.

He thought about it for a moment and then, May I compromise?

I smiled. If you must.

How about Lady Caroline?

I laughed. I suppose it is an improvement.

He blushed as I grasped his hand and held it briefly.

Tell me. What I am doing at the asylum. Does it make sense to you?

You are asking me, My....sorry, Lady Caroline? Oh - damn it - Carrie.

I looked aghast. Mark, you surprise me.

Like I did by telling you my dream?

Your dream is not an unnatural one. What I cant understand is why on earth it is me you fancy.

Because you are the most wonderful person in the whole wide world, thats why.

He stifled my interruption with his hand over my mouth. Not only that, youve got courage. You marry an old man, not for his money, but because he had need of a son and that took guts. He dies on you but you dont collapse into a shell: you take on the world; you go to the asylum and change peoples lives. Then you are publicly insulted by one of the warders and you kick him where it hurts. He attacks you and you practically rip his guts out. You dont act all high and mighty like the others that come to the Hall. You are normal. Not common, just normal. With me, you have been so kind. I tell you how I feel about you and, by rights, you should have kicked me out into the street but you have not done so, nor have you used my feelings for your own ends as many would have done. Thats why I love you so much.

I sat back. Goodness gracious, that was quite a mouthful.

You ask me about your work at the asylum. You, ask me, a poor coachman, for my opinion. Lady Caroline, as a loyal employee, I say “thank you very much, you are so kind. Carrie, as a friend, I say “please be very, very careful. One day, someone is going to take advantage of your kindness and honesty for their own gain. I have this horrible, terrifying feeling that you are going to get very hurt and, if that happens, I think I shall die.

I hesitated for a long time before saying, You are being very honest yourself today.

Carrie, I adore you. But I know that what I have desired for myself can never be. I will never put you in an embarrassing situation, I promise. You only have to speak and I will obey.

What if I wanted you physically? Just supposing?

Then I would have to leave you. It would not be in your long-term best interests to have such a complication in your life.

I appreciate your honesty, Mark. I will try very hard to respect your feelings. How can I help you to feel more relaxed?

Mark glanced down to where I had removed my riding boots to splash my feet in the stream and to where I had lifted my skirts almost to my knees.

He grinned like a hungry wolf. Keep your legs covered up. They drive me insane with desire.

I lay back and laughed hysterically. What on earth does he see in my legs? They are only the same as my mums.

Hellaby

We left Tickhill along Westgate. At the far end, as we started to climb the Limestone Hill, we passed the Priory with its steeply pitched stone roof and the Austin Friars waved as we rode by the gates.

I had not a care in the world. I had a fine home, a beautiful baby, adoring parents and good friends and what more could a woman ask for?

Only one cloud was in the sky - Marks words had worried me a little. Was I really that vulnerable? Could all I had worked for be washed away by unscrupulous men? I would have to be more careful in future to cover my back. If I were to fail, others would be hurt, too, and I couldnt afford to let that happen.

Our road skirted the Earl of Scarboroughs estate and I could just see the top of the chimneys of the house through the trees. Alongside the road, his ditches looked in need of clearance. One day, I would be cheeky and go up to him in the House of Lords and say “Incidentally, My Lord Scarborough, youve got dirty ditches.

After a hour, we came to a deep valley where a small hamlet with several little market stalls were grouped around a crossroads. This must be Maltby, I thought. Across the valley was a limestone hill covered with trees and, as we rode, the valley rose gradually to meet the road and we crossed a ford after a mile and started to climb the slight gradient. At the top of the hill was the tiny hamlet of Hellaby.

We paused to look. The land ran as far as the eye could see in every direction with a beautiful lake which circled the bottom of the hill from near to the ford. Hellaby Hall itself was down a short lane with the farm and stables alongside.

It was a big Tudor hall with a thatched roof and the garden was well-tended and many different bushes grew out of the sandy soil. From the Hall, you could see across the whole estate, lake and valley. I knew that my Uncle Thomas and his wife, Alice, lived near here somewhere and I would enquire at the Hall where I had been told the squire lived.

With some trepidation, we went up the short drive to the big house and Gresham dismounted from his horse and knocked at the big door. A butler came after a short delay.

I am looking for Mr Thomas Bosvile, I called to him. Does he live near here?

The man was short-sighted, so he came outside.

Who is it, Parker? called a voice from inside and well-dressed man of about thirty came out.

The butler turned to face him. Its some people looking for Master Thomas, sir.

The newcomer looked up at me, shielding his eyes against the bright morning sun. What do you want with Thomas Bosvile, young lady?

He seemed unnecessarily abrupt and I found myself blurting out, He is my relative, sir.

He frowned. What is your name, girl?

I am Carrie Louise Ramsden, sir. My father is Sir John Bosvile.

You are Jacks daughter? he asked incredulously.

Yes, sir.

His whole manner changed abruptly. Then you must come inside, please.

Mark held out his hand to me and I dismounted in a most unladylike fashion. I was shown into the hallway which led through to the scullery where the mans wife was.

Thomas is my farm manager and he will be here soon. You may come into the parlour and wait for him.

I followed him inside, dragging a reluctant Mark in with me as I needed the moral support.

The man turned and faced me. I am Ralph Fretwell and this is my wife, Margaret.

I shook hands with a sickly looking woman of about thirty who held a small baby in her arms as the maid prepared food.

I curtseyed out of habit. Pleased to meet you, Mistress Fretwell.

We dont have many visitors here, she said. Not of our kind, anyway.

I smiled to myself. Are you from round here?

Oh, yes. Im from a village just outside the city of Sheffield. My father is William Spencer of Attercliffe. She smiled in a rather pompous manner that grated a little. You will have heard of my father, of course?

I told her that I was from Essex and therefore had not. Margaret Fretwell looked most offended. Obviously, anyone who was anyone had heard of the local Puritan leader. However, Parker fiddled with cups in the ensuing silence and, eventually, we all had tea together, Gresham looking most uncomfortable at being included as an equal.

Are you Carries husband? Margaret suddenly asked him.

Mark shook his head firmly. No, maam. He stood to attention, his cap in his hand. Im just the coachman, maam.

Margaret Fretwell looked confused. She had tried to pull rank on me and Mark was about to put her firmly in her place.

Lady Carolines coachman, he added as another nail in her coffin.

“Lady Caroline? gasped Margaret almost dropping her baby in her surprise.

Yes, maam. From Rettendon Hall in Essex.

She looked at me then and curtsied quickly, thoroughly embarrassed at her faux-pas. My Lady, forgive me. Whatever are we thinking of?

Youre enjoying yourself arent you, Mark? I thought to myself wickedly. He winked at me in the fluster to get out the best china and I had to laugh inside. It was then that Thomas Bosvile arrived and saved the day.

Sarah? he said, eyes open wide, as he walked in.

He looked then at Margaret who was trying to gain his attention and frantically shaking her head. He looked puzzled.

Lady Ramsden, corrected Margaret quickly.

Sarah is my mother, I informed Thomas with a smile. I liked him better. How is Aunt Alice? I asked, breaking the tension.

She is fine. He sat down suddenly. Good grief, you two are alike.

So Im told, Uncle Thomas.

Are you really Carrie, that little girl I once met in Chelmers Ford?

I smiled. Im afraid so.

And where is your mother these days?

With dad in Essex. They are married now, you know.

Married? What happened to that gorgeous blonde he was married to?

She ran off with a soldier, I over simplified. Elizabeth had made her choice and would now have to live with the drunken slob.

Great Heavens, they seemed so happy. Jack adored her.

He still does, the silly old fool.

Thats not a very nice way to talk of your father, Thomas said sternly. He was obviously not impressed by nobility and I liked him for it.

I love my father very much. I am jesting, Uncle Thomas.

I should think so, too. He suddenly smiled. Any other news?

I nodded. I have a brother and sister now. Rachel is nine and Andrew is four. Sarah is very happy.

Im so glad. When she left here, she was so sad. How did your father find her?

He traced her to Twigmoor Hall near Ashby where she had been made prisoner there by some very bad men. Dad rescued her and took her to France. In time, she got better and now they run the estate together in Essex.

Are they back at Cricksee?

No. Elizabeth and her new husband, Simon, are there now. Dad and Sarah are in Elizabeths mothers old house at Moor Hill.

And you say you are at Rettendon. Is it far?

About fifteen miles from Moor Hill. Not too far.

He stood up. Well, we must go to my place. Alice will be very pleased to see you.

We said our goodbyes to the Fretwells and I found myself beginning to feel sorry for Margaret. She had one small child and was clearly expecting another and she didnt look well at all. If she lived to be forty, I would be very surprised indeed.

Alice Bosvile was quite the opposite of Margaret Fretwell. She was around Dads age but still full of vitality. Her children were grown up and out at the moment so we sat on the lawn in the evening sun and talked until dark. They invited us to stay the night. I was in the spare bedroom but Mark insisted on sleeping in the stable. I didnt blame him. He must have felt most out of place.

I learned much of the Bosviles that evening. Originally, the name had been Beauzevile and they had come across with William the Conqueror from the town in France of the same name in Normandy. Settling in the North of England, Sir Marchant de Beauzevile, as he was known, became unpopular with the King because he insisted on treating the natives in a fair manner. Sent virtually into exile, he became associated with various rebels and his great-granddaughter, Lady Marianne de Bosvile, was reputed to have been friendly with some local hero named Robin of Loxley. Over the years, the family had settled upon the moors north of Sheffield where the family still owned considerable property around Penistone, Wharncliffe and Gunthwaite. Nevertheless, some of the family had come to South Yorkshire and now lived at Braythewell and Micklebring.

Alice had been a Fretwell before marrying Uncle Thomas. She was, in fact, the present squires aunt. There had been a close tie between the two families for a long time. Alices mother was also Thomass aunt. It was all very confusing to the uninitiated.

One piece of information was sticking in my mind as we rode back to collect Doctor Merry, Julie and John Henry from Yaddlethorpe. These two families had intermarried pretty closely, and as far as I could see, without any of the bad effects often seen from intermarriage. Perhaps there was hope for Julies baby yet.

THE next year was a busy one. George Merry had been installed as resident doctor at the asylum and I had officially been appointed as matron by the King. Six of the former inmates were now my assistants and a proper grading process was under way to determine who was really sick and who was well.

No-one could be released. The law still stood unless costly appeal proceedings could be commenced, but we had won the first battle. New admissions were screened carefully before they could be “corrupted by contact with mentally sick ones. As it turned out, over half of the admissions were sane and subsequently the appeals were immediate.

In that first year, twelve mentally sound people were sent back into society by means of these appeals. It had not been possible to attempt to start any form of cure for the sick ones yet however, simply with love and care, some were responding positively. Without the corrupting influence of the previous warders, their bodies remained whole, too.

Julies pregnancy had gone badly because her main problem was her physical size. She was now thirteen but still quite thin but her belly was simply enormous in comparison to the rest of her and, by the sixth month, she could no longer stand. By seven months, George and I decided that we would risk attempting to bring forward the birth by whatever means we could because, if we didnt, he was certain that within a month poor Julie would be dead.

I looked down at that little girl as she fought to keep herself and her baby alive and each time I saw her, I cried. If only we knew more about the human body. We tried every way we could to induce an early birth and, eventually, the muscular spasms began and the birth started around midnight.

Her entire body must have been racked with pain as her abdomen was being stretched beyond possibility and she struggled and fought against the intense agony. Eventually, at around daybreak, it was over. With a great effort, the baby came, alive and well, and I held the little girl tightly while George induced breathing. I wiped the baby clean and wrapped it in a blanket to keep the poor little thing warm and leant over to give her to her mother.

I was too late. Julie had given birth but her poor little life had drained away with it. George fought for hours to keep her alive until he collapsed himself. It was as if she had kept herself alive just long enough to bring that baby to life and, when the birth was over, she had smiled and just slipped quietly away.

I cried bitterly all day, not just with sadness about Julies death, but with anger and frustration. What a bloody waste! To be brought into the world, treated as she had been and then, when the good news was about to begin, to lose absolutely everything.

Civil War

I will not bore you with all the details of the next two years during which time it was as if everyone was sitting on the edge of their seats, waiting for the inevitable climax as the rift widened between King and Parliament.

That year, Queen Henriette Marie gave birth to her third child, James. Charles was already four and looking more like his father every day and they also had a sister, Mary, who was two years old. By the following year, the King had squandered so much money on himself and his Queen that he was compelled to raise taxes without consulting Parliament.

Sir John Eliot protested publicly about the Kings exercise of what he felt was his Godly Right and defended the right to free speech in the House of Commons. As he spoke, the Kings messenger stood outside, banging on the door and the King had him arrested and confined in prison until he fell sick and died.

John Hampden, a country gentleman, refused to pay one of the taxes and went to law against the King about it and he was punished by the very judges who had agreed with his stand because were frightened of the Kings wrath.

In 1639, Thomas Wentworth returned from holding a crushing hand on Ireland and became chief advisor to the King. He was a cruel, barbaric man who claimed to murder in the name of God and it was partly his advice to the King that propelled England onto the irreversibly steep, slippery slope to Civil War.

All over Essex, families were being pressured into taking one side or the other and it was difficult to stay neutral. It must have been true of most of England but events were now slipping by so swiftly that a complete picture was often not possible. Distorted pictures began to be painted by both sides and, although not a shot had yet been fired, England was already at war with itself.

News also came from Thomas and Alice that Margaret Fretwell had died. Her second birth to Hannah went well but her third child, Edward, was born just a short time before she finally passed away and Hellaby Hall was deteriorating for lack of attention. Dad and Sarah still struggle on with their farm at Moor Hill. Sarah is still looking very good and, although she is now forty-seven, she looks thirty. My sister, Rachel, is sixteen and very fetching indeed. She is also a considerable help to our parents around the farm. Andrew, at ten, is also full of energy.

I have not remarried. At twenty-nine, I am a career girl with my work cut out looking after Rettenden Hall, the asylum and my family. John Henry is now nine years old and Julies baby, whom I formally adopted as Mary Elizabeth Ramsden, is six.

Our initial fears concerning her mental health have proved largely unfounded. Apart from being just a little backward in reading and writing, she is very intelligent and what she lacks in academic ability, she easily makes up for in her outstanding beauty and deportment. Her long, golden hair is the envy of everyone, though her piercing blue eyes have cause a shiver to run up many a spine.

Many were shocked when I had taken her as my own but I felt that I had no alternative. I had a moral obligation to the child after her own mother had been first mentally then physically torn apart so painfully.

Julies death has hardened me considerably. My soft, easy-going ways have disappeared almost entirely. Jenkins retired last year and died shortly after and he has not been replaced. Gresham is all I need now except for Annie, the cook.

George Merry is now almost entirely retired and has assistants who make the observations and he is called in only as a consultant. He is very happy in his work and looks set for a new lease of life.

WITHIN a few months, the King resummoned Parliament. John Pym, a country gentleman and a lawyer, was a fluent and persuasive speaker and he first ventured to attack the King in the commons. He also did everything within his power to bring about the destruction of Thomas Wentworth, who had now been made Earl of Strafforth by the King in recognition of his bloodthirsty quelling of rebellion.

Pym was so persuasive in his verbal reasonings that the King sought to have him arrested. His soldiers were not allowed inside, so the King forced himself into the House of Commons, with his bodyguard, to have him and his supporters arrested. This infuriated Parliament so charges of treason were brought against Wentworth and he was arrested. The King then showed his true colours by washing his hands of the matter and Wentworth was executed on May 12th. Realising his betrayal, Wentworth called out in court a quotation from the Bible - Put not your trust in Princes.

The King now had no-one in London that he could trust and so it was, in 1642, that King Charles I rode out with his small army.

In truth, hardly anyone wanted a war. Sir Thomas Fairfax, son of Lord Fairfax of Cameron, even rode out from his home in York to see the King and petition him to return to London and save the day but the King was not in the mood for talk and almost rode Sir Thomas down in his attempt to evade the issue. Determined to do things only on his own terms, he moved south from Yorkshire and raised his Royal Standard in the City of Nottingham.

FOR a long time, it did not seriously effect our part of the country but when it did, it tore our family apart.

Robert Deveraux, Earl of Essex, had gathered all who could fight onto the side of Parliament and they were being trained for battle against the King. Gradually, reports reached our ears of battles in the West Country and, during October, the County of Essex became almost devoid of men as the Earl led his chosen army north-westward to Edge Hill.

A great deal of pressure had been exerted upon my father to support the Earl and when he declined, he was arrested and accused of being a supporter of the King. It was then that he was brought to trial and accused of treason. The matter was all very hurried due to everyones haste to get to Edge Hill and I heard of the trial only that same morning as Gresham drove me, poste-haste to Chelmers Ford.

I am Lady Caroline Ramsden, I told the chief warder upon arrival at the assizes. I have come about my father, Sir John Bosvile.

I fear, My Lady, that you are too late, he replied in an officious manner which alarmed me. The traitors have already been tried and sentenced.

What? Where is he now?

Taken for execution, My Lady, he replied casually.

I was thunderstruck. Execution? You are not serious.

Yes, My Lady. The court gave instructions that the sentences were to be carried out immediately because the Earl wants to get his troops to battle with the King as soon as possible.

Where is the execution to be carried out? I asked, feeling very sick at heart.

Im sorry, my Lady. The executions were carried out this morning. The bodies are being buried now.

What? I sat down heavily on the bench in front of his desk as he carried on with his paperwork. Eventually, I asked Where are the bodies?

Down by the market, My Lady. If you hurry, you may be able to see your fathers body.

I rushed from the room, pushing past a confused Gresham and ran to the market where an area had been cordoned off. A soldier prevented me from entering the space where a pile of bodies had been dumped unceremoniously, awaiting mass burial.

I want to see my fathers body, I demanded.

Not possible. I have orders to prevent all from entering this place.

Dont you know who I am? I asked threateningly.

No, maam.

I am Lady Caroline Ramsden of Rettendon and I demand to see my fathers body - Now!

This was the first time in my life I had pulled rank on anyone, but I was determined not to be put off by this measly soldier.

Im sorry, Lady Ramsden. I have my orders. It would be more than my lifes worth to disobey.

I was not in the mood for messing about. Where is your Commanding Officer?

Gone to supervise the first lot to be buried.

Lot? I was shocked. Is that all they are to you? A lot?

Maam, with respect. They were traitors.

Traitors? To whom? My father had done more for Puritanism than any other man in Essex. Years ago, he forced the local parson to read the English Bible against the tradition of the Church and he has united the people of Dengy into working together. He is no traitor - not to either side.

Angry, I tried to push inside but he physically prevented me, summoning assistance from two other soldiers and it took the three of them to drag me back to where Gresham waited with the coach.

The sergeant threatened to have me arrested as well if I didnt go home peacefully. I thought that I should have been sad. Instead, I found I was simply livid as I rode back to Moor Hill to inform Sarah and the other children. They had lost a brave man for nothing. One day, he was there. The next, he was simply gone.

SARAH and the children came back with me to Rettendon. The farm was gone, the land confiscated by Parliament and, the day after they left, the house at Moor Hill was burnt down by a fanatical mob. In desperation, I went across to Cricksee and found that Simon and Elizabeth had managed to get away somehow.

Our lives were suddenly changed and it had not been fair. It had not even been true. Dad had never supported the King. On the contrary, he had publicly declared his position - that of neutrality in favour of a united kingdom. However, he had failed and now he had disappeared without trace.

Upon arrival at Rettendon, Sarah and I turned in on ourselves and became totally inseparable. For three days, the children looked after themselves with Gresham and Annies help, as we stayed locked in my room. A great hole had been blasted right through both our lives. He had not just been father and husband to us, he had been our very lives themselves. We lay together on my bed and held each other tight as though daring anyone to separate us. We did not eat, we did not drink for those days; we became as one, body and soul, and not one word had been said between us - a sort of telepathy serving for communication. Perhaps the asylum had been built for people like us.

On the fourth day, we were ready. The door burst open and we ordered lunch. We bathed together, we dressed together, I in my best dress, Sarah in her riding gear. We ate in silence, the children watching us carefully and then, at the end of the meal, we smiled at them.

Right then, said Sarah. Whose for some action around here?

My Ladies. I am at your service, said Mark Gresham.

Count me in, mum, said Rachel.

When are you two going to get married? I asked Mark suddenly.

What? he said.

You and Rachel. I saw you over lunch. You couldnt keep your eyes and feet off each other.

Lady Caroline, I... he began, looking “found out.

Well, then. Go and get the parson. Lets have no further delay.

But I am ten years older than she is.

And?

Doesnt it matter to you?

I turned to my sister. Does it matter to you? You are quite old enough to decide for yourself.

Rachel looked at Mark and smiled. It doesnt matter to me.

Well then, you two, off you go. Get the parson, now.

They ran. They literally ran. Within the hour, they were back with the parson.

Marry them, I instructed him.

But the banns, the invitations.

Curse the banns and invitations. This is war, man. Theres no time for that. Do it!

Very well, My Lady.

In a few minutes, it was done.

Right, off you go, I said to the newliweds. The bedrooms that-a-way.

They looked embarrassed but were gone a very long time.

I turned to the others. Right then, boys and girls. What can we get you to do?

I can load a pistol, said Andrew.

I can learn, said John Henry.

Ill sharpen the swords, said young Mary Beth.

Well, then. Lets see what weve got, shall we?.

We scoured the house, attic and stables and emptied Sarahs wagon and found that we had Sarahs sword, my pistol, Dads pistol, Smiths old flintlocks, my dagger, Sarahs dagger, a blunderbuss, two muskets, several bags of powder and shot, and a group of very determined people indeed. Someone, somewhere, was going to pay very dearly for taking away my father.

Throughout that winter, I taught Mary Beth, Andrew and John Henry to shoot while Sarah taught Mark to use the sword. Rachel was already very good with both sword and pistol, having been trained by dad.

By the time the spring flowers had begun to push their heads through the soil at the front of the Hall, we were prepared. We would not stand a chance against a trained army, but fighting the sort of rabble who had taken their frustrations out on my father, we were invincible.

A week later, we were disturbed by horses arriving and Mark went to the door and let in the four visitors. I went to the smallest and held her tight.

I didnt know whether I would still be welcome, she said.

Henriette, you are always welcome in my home. Mark, take one of the gentlemen and hide the horses, quickly.

Very well, Carrie.

Isnt he the coachman? asked the Queen as Mark left.

Was, I said. He is my brother-in-law now. This is his wife, my sister, Rachel Gresham.

Rachel curtsied to the Queen.

My brother, Andrew.

Andrew bowed.

My mother, you know of course.

Henriette grasped her hands. Sarah. I was most distressed to hear about your Jack. I fear I was too late to prevent it.

So were we, Your Highness.

The Queen stopped in front of my son. And this must be the new Lord Ramsden.

Yes, Your Highness, John Henry replied respectfully. How are you?

Very well, my child. You would be too young to remember my Charles? She indicated a boy of thirteen who stepped forward. Already, he was taller than his mother and looked very grown-up.

Charles would rather be with his father, I fear, but the King has instructed him to stay beside me while I am back in England. I have left Mary and James with friends, they are too young to travel. She saw the golden-haired beauty for the first time. And who is this young one?

This is my adopted daughter, Mary Beth.

Pleased to meet you, Mary Beth. What happened to your real mummy?

She died, Maam.

Henrietta looked at me enquiringly.

Her mother was the young girl I told you about. She died in childbirth.

Oh, Carrie. I am sorry. After all your hard work trying to help her.

I shrugged and then watched Mary Beth as she respectfully shook hands with Prince Charles. The youth smiled as he looked down at the child and it was almost as if time stood still.

How on earth were any of supposed to know that this shy young slip of a girl would one day take on, almost single-handed, the great rulers of Europe and help to bring this boy to his rightful throne?

WE fed Henriette and gave her wine. Her two bodyguards were still suspicious but ate and drank with us. An hour later, we were disturbed by a further arrival. A group of six Parliamentary soldiers drew up outside and there was a heavy banging at the door.

I said, Quickly, John Henry, take the Queen and Prince to the attic.

Cant I stay and fight? argued Prince Charles.

I smiled. You will be much more useful guarding your mother.

The flattery won him over and they disappeared. I turned to Henriettes bodyguards. You are the butler so try to act like one. And you are the coachman. Okay?

The “butler opened the door.

We demand to see the Queen, the leader of the Roundheads said.

You can demand what you like, I said, walking toward them across the wide hallway.

We followed her from London, he said firmly. We know she is here.

How do you know? I asked severely.

Because we saw them arrive.

You come bursting into my home making wild accusations. I appeared livid. What other witnesses do you have?

He was a little taken aback. None, my lady.

I suddenly smiled and relaxed. If that is the case, then youd better come inside.

They all herded into the hall.

Rachel, I said with an indicating nod. Take Mary Beth and look after the gentlemens horses.

The girls left to their duty and the men looked perplexed.

As the door closed behind them, I turned on the men. If you are so certain and there are no other witnesses, then I am afraid I cannot allow you to leave this house.

You must be joking, said the leader, looking at the butler and I. You cant hold us here.

Just you watch me, I said slowly.

The click of two pistols being cocked was unusually loud in the hallway as Sarah stepped out of the alcove, both arms levelled and the “coachman poked a musket out of the kitchen doorway. Mark levelled his musket from the top of the stairs.

Take out your weapons and lay them on the floor, I commanded. Very slowly and carefully.

Ill give him his due, the leader of the Roundheads was a quick thinker. He had me by the arm and held in front of him as a shield before Id had time to think while his other hand grasped me by the hair, yanking my head back.

If you shoot, Her Ladyship gets it first, he challenged the others.

You could have heard a pin drop until I said quietly, I have to tell you, sir, that their instructions are to prevent you from leaving this house at any cost. What you are doing to me will alter nothing.

He hesitated and it was the last mistake he ever made. The heel of my riding boot is very hard and is no more than a inch in diameter and, when the total force of my right leg is brought down very hard, the force is concentrated onto a very small area. When that area is centred on someones instep, the pain can be excruciating. If the volume of his cry was anything to go by, it was.

He suddenly let go of me as I ducked away from him, my hand reaching for the top of my boot. Without hesitating, my dagger slashed backwards and upwards and his hand went to his throat as arterial blood pumped from between his fingers. Slowly, he dropped to his knees, the others looking at him amazed. This was their first exposure to the real horrors of war and they were appaled, but it wasnt their father who had just been murdered, was it?

Carefully, they laid down their arms as their leaders life went through its final spasms.

The cellar for the others, I think, Mark, I instructed. And Mark, be careful.

He nodded, holding his musket steady. Very well, Carrie.

The men were taken, still dazed, through the door to the cellar which was firmly bolted after them.

What will you do with them? asked the Queens bodyguard.

We will leave them there until tomorrow and then well decide. We may have to do away with them.

He nodded gravely.

The Queen returned shortly and looked pale at the news of what had happened. Carrie, I cannot stay here. I am endangering the lives of your whole family.

You are right, you cannot stay here. I thought for a moment. However, I do know somewhere where you will be quite safe. I stood up. Mark, the coach, please.

The body of the Roundhead captain was taken away and the floor cleaned. By the time it was finished, the coach was ready.

Come Henriette. I will show you where you will be safe any time you return to England.

A quarter of an hour later, my coach drew up outside the asylum and we stepped down and walked inside. I was greeted warmly by staff and patients alike as I clapped my hands for quiet.

My friends. I want you to meet someone who will be staying with you from time to time. She is a very good friend of mine and therefore must be treated kindly. Will you do that for me?

Heads nodded enthusiastically and I pulled Queen Henriette gently forward.

This is my friend. Her name is Hen...Marie. Her name is Marie. Say hello to Marie.

She was given a lot of smiles and hellos.

I held up my hands for silence. As you know, the bad men who were once here have now gone. However, they may come back.

Looks of fear abounded.

They will not come for you. They will come for my friend, Marie. Do you remember what they used to do to us?

Many did. Some still had the physical and mental scars.

Marie is very pretty isnt she?

Nods again.

I must tell you that if those men ever come here and find Marie, they will do much worse to her than they ever did to me and you.

Uproar. Their minds could not imagine treatment more depraved than that which they had been subjected to.

If they come, you must hide Marie. Do you understand? They must not, ever, find her. If they do find her and then hurt her, I shall be very, very sad. So sad that I shall have to go away from here forever. Would you like that?

They came and held me and touched me. They would not like that at all. It was not just regard for me. In their minds, I stood firmly between them and their terrible past.

We need a signal, I said to George when we were alone in the kitchen.

No problem, Carrie. We keep the fire in here lit permanently anyway and I have compounds that will produce smoke. I will make yellow smoke if the Queen arrives, red if there is danger.

I smiled wryly as I turned to face him. How did you know she was the Queen?

He gently put his hand on my shoulder. My dear Carrie, just trust an old mans intuition.

To and Fro

I visited the Queen the following day to ensure she was comfortable and found that George had put her on the top floor in a room where she could see right across to Wyke Ford and would have plenty of warning of approach by Parliamentary troops from London. A messenger had just been, redirected from the Hall, so Henriette brought me up-to-date on the news.

Prince Rupert is in Worcester with Sir John Byron and his cavalry have just defeated the advance Parliamentary force under Nathaniel Fiennes.

My heartbeat quickened. So Rupert is back in England?

He has been in Germany recently, fighting in the Rhine, but the war there is almost over now. Do you know, almost three quarters of the population of Germany has been killed so far, over the last twenty-four years. However, they say it cannot go on much longer. What a waste of people, fighting over religion.

I expect there is more to it than that, I said cynically. Usually, greed and power come into the picture somewhere. Religion usually just provides the spark.

I expect youre right, Carrie. It is never as simple as it seems, is it?

Im afraid not. I wonder how they are getting on at Edge Hill. Lord Essex has taken just about all the men from around here.

My husband the King has gone there himself, you know. Rupert has arranged to meet him there with Lord Wilmott and, if he wins, he will be able to retake the City of London.

Then he will have won, will he not? He should be back in London for Christmas.

Im not so sure. Though he is at Edge Hill himself, he has left the decisions to the Earl of Lindsey and the Earl of Forth. He is a poor strategist himself. In fact, hes a poor everything of late.

Dont cry, Henriette, I soothed. The King must be a good man at times. He fathered your two fine sons and two beautiful daughters, didnt he?

She looked at me through her tears. Did he?

THE Kings army did, in fact, win something at Edge Hill and, over the next few days, the news filtered through in dribs and drabs. The two armies had had over fourteen thousand men apiece and drew up for battle just after midday. The Parliamentary army was two miles south of Kineton and the Royalists were just north of Radway.

Prince Rupert and Lord Wilmott attacked the wings and threw back the Parliamentarians. The Prince was brave and, for once, his recklessness paid dividends. However, in the centre, the Earl of Forth was unable to advance and had been held firm. By nightfall, both armies had had enough and neither side had gained a complete victory, but Essex had been forced to withdraw and the road to London was now open for the King.

The Queen was delighted to hear the news and prepared to go to London to meet him. However, just before she was to leave, a message came which caused further uncertainty.

On the twelfth of November, Prince Rupert had attacked Denzil Holles's regiment under the cover of morning mist and it had been forced to retreat into Brentford. The attack was pressed forward and Denzil Holles's regiment as well as that of Lord Brooke was defeated and then Brentford fell to the King. However, the next day, Parliamentary regiments from London formed against him at Turnham Green and the King finally made a wise decision. His army was cold and weakened by hunger so he retreated to Reading and London was left to Parliament.

Battle also raged in Yorkshire. Lord Newcastle was fighting the poorly supplied Parliamentary army under Lord Fairfax and his son he and had defeated them at both Pierce Bridge and Tadcaster. However, Yorkshire was a Parliament stronghold. Could he hold onto what he had gained?

I wondered what was happening in Hellaby. Most of the people I knew there were Puritans and would probably take Parliaments side in the war. It was a shame. Through circumstances beyond our control, we were on opposite sides. But they had done nothing to harm us. Only a short time ago, I was there with them, discussing family matters. If the rest of the family were to take the Parliamentary side, the Bosvile family was now split right down the middle.

I tried to think of the reasons why we had made the decision we had. It was not love for the King because he had done little to help us. It was not just the Queen either as I would have helped her simply because of our friendship. The more I thought about it, the more I realised that it was simply because of what had happened to my Dad.

He had not deserved to die, he had tried to be neutral but both sides had counted him as traitor. One side had acted on their fears and I could never forgive them for that.

No more soldiers came in search of the Queen that year and we could not bring ourselves to kill the soldiers in the cellar. Of the five left, three were just boys and one was an old man. Only two of them had been committed to Parliament and one of them was dead. One day, Sarah and I discussed it then we released them from their prison.

Come up, all of you, Sarah called.

They came from the cellar, shielding their eyes from the light as Mark and Rachel kept their pistols nearby while we fed them in the kitchen. Not that we had refused to feed them before, of course, but now they could sit at a table and eat properly.

Why are you doing this for us? one asked suspiciously.

Because now the Queen is far away, you can do us no harm.

We could arrest you.

For what? You have no proof.

We can hold you on suspicion of treason.

Oh come on, I said. Only a few years back, your party fought tooth and nail to get a law passed to prohibit arrest and imprisonment without trial and evidence. Youre surely not going to tell me that you are going to break your own laws.

We are only doing our duty, My Lady.

Killing my father was not your duty, I said, suddenly angry again. He was a loyal Puritan but you executed him simply because he wouldnt come with you to Edge Hill.

Your father? He put down his fork and looked puzzled.

Yes, Sir John Bosvile from Moor Hill.

They looked at each other. But he was not killed.

What? said Sarah, her hand on her chest.

It...It was a trick. To persuade the menfolk to join with us. No-one actually died.

I dont believe you, I retorted. I saw the bodies being burned at Chelmers Ford.

They were not Royalists, he said, confused. They were plague victims. I swear that no-one from Dengy was executed.

But our house, the land?

Yes. He looked genuinely sorry. Im afraid that land was confiscated by order of Lord Essex and some houses did get burned down in the frenzy, but I swear to God that we executed no-one.

I sat down and looked at Sarah. Could I believe them? Was my father really alive? If so, where was he?

If we let you go, I said finally. What will you do?

We will rejoin our regiment, if we can find it.

Why do you fight on the side of Parliament?

Because our squire made us. He is a Puritan and he says that the Kings rule is corrupt.

I smiled. I dont entirely disagree with him, but is that a good reason for Civil War?

Probably not, My Lady. But what choice do we have?

Probably none. I looked at the leader. You may go.

Go? He looked around, still suspecting a trap.

Yes, go. Your horses are in the stables at the rear - they have been well cared for. I looked straight at him. It was a shame about the Captains... accident.

He smiled knowingly. Yes, My Lady. It was indeed a terrible shame.

Soon, they were gone.

I turned to my mother. Do you think I have done the right thing?

I dont know, Carrie. But I hope so.

Do you believe Dad is alive?

I wish I knew Carrie. I must go to bed, I dont feel at all well.

Mother, whats wrong?

Just a slight pain in my chest. I get it quite often but it is nothing to worry about.

Shall I get the doctor?

No, Ill feel better after a lie down. Its just that...

You think they were telling the truth?

I dont know. I hoped...just for a moment...

Rachel, I said quietly. Look after mother while I ensure that our guests have really gone.

She clutched my arm as I got up. Do you think dads alive, Carrie?

I looked down at my sister and smiled. Im not sure, Rachel. I only know that if he is, he must have a very good reason for not contacting us.

Model Army

Dad had been in Hellaby. Much later, he told me the story of what had befallen him and I hereby repeat what he said. Apparently, he had escaped from the soldiers taking him for execution and had ridden north to Twigmoor to avoid capture. He hid there in the old house and knew that if he attempted to return to Essex, not only he, but all our whole family, would be in danger.

After four months, he realised he was relatively safe and rode to Cousin Thomass in Hellaby. There were troops everywhere in the towns along his journey, so he avoided them and reached Hellaby by nightfall. He knocked softly on the door which was opened by Alice.

Cousin Jack, come in. What are you doing here?

Its a long story, Alice. Is Thomas at home?

He was. Jack, how good to see you. Thomas and Dad had embraced. Have you come up for the war?

Well, not exactly. Let me explain. He sat down. It all began last year. Lord Essex was gathering troops to fight against the King but I refused to join them. At first, it was thought that, because I had been knighted by the King and because of Carrie, I would support the Kings side. But I could not do that; I was a Puritan and had no particular love for the King. But neither did I feel strongly enough to fight against him.

In early October, the local justice had me arrested. There were ten of us altogether. One day, a trial was held in Chelmsford and we were sentenced to be executed. However, instead of being hung, we were taken away to Colchester in a closed wagon. The guard was minimal so I escaped and went to Moor Hill, but it had been burnt to the ground. I was sick with worry about Sarah and the children but I eventually managed to locate Sarahs father who told me they had gone to Rettendon Hall. I knew the troops would probably be searching for me and if I was to go there and be found, the family would suffer too. So I went to Twigmoor for a while and now I am here.

No-one has been here looking for you, Jack. It all seems very strange, doesnt it?

Where do your own loyalties lie, Thomas?

I will have no choice, Jack. Whatever the squire decides, we must follow. He is a Puritan but tries to remain neutral. His father-in-law, William Spencer is solidly for Parliament and so is most of Rotherham.

What about the rest of Yorkshire?

Well, news came in the other day that Sir Thomas Fairfax has captured Bradford, Leeds and Wakefield from Lord Newcastle. That means that most of Yorkshire is now in Parliamentary hands.

So it is quite peaceful here at the moment?

Yes, Jack. We are going into Rotherham this Sunday, do you want to come?

Do you know, I havent been there since I was a child. Is the Grammar School still there?

Yes, Jack. It has been extended recently, due to the number of pupils.

Id like to see it while we are there.

All right. Well go to the Parish Church in the morning, have lunch by the river and then go to see the school after lunch. Does that sound okay to you?

Father had smiled. It sounds just great, Thomas.

JOHN Shawe, Vicar of the Parish Church at Rotherham, had very strong views and the sermon he preached with my Dad, Cousin Thomas and Aunt Alice in attendance, was almost political in nature. He denounced the sins of the King, the Queen and almost every other royal person while Jack and Thomas listened to his condemnation of their sins and the fortifying of his congregation.

It was halfway through his sermon that noise outside had disturbed his speech and the door was flung open with a crash.

Royalists, a voice had cried. Hundreds of them.

Thomas and Dad looked at each other and bade Alice stay in the church, following the others outside. A battle was in progress at the crossroads of Wellgate and High Street and there must have been over six hundred Cavaliers and Dragoons fighting to get into the town centre. In places, small groups had already broken through.

A noise behind them made them turn. A group of Royalists had reached the church. Where is the Vicar? We have come with a warrant for his arrest.

Thomas shook his head and Dad had shrugged. They were neutrals and wanted no part of this fight. The Cavaliers burst into the church and, realising that Alice was inside, Thomas rushed forward, Dad following close behind. There was no sign of the Vicar. He had not come out, so he had to be hiding inside somewhere.

The Royalist leader grabbed the nearest person, who happened to be Alice. Where did he go, woman? Tell me or Ill slit your Puritan belly open.

Leave her alone. Thomass voice echoed around the church. He stood unarmed facing them. Leave my wife alone, she knows nothing.

Alice struggled to be free and the Cavalier holding her slapped her to the ground and, as she lay there moaning, Thomas leapt forward in a rage. Before he had even got close to his wife, two swords had cut him down and he lay in a pool of his own blood while Alice cried.

Dad had taken a step forward but then stopped. He was angry, but not stupid and could not possibly fight so many, so he stood there silent. The Cavaliers searched and found nothing and left, roughly pushing my Dad aside as they went.

Then, a fusillade of shots rang out. Dad had stood behind a pillar as balls flew by, ricocheting off the walls until it fell silent. He had then looked outside and the Royalists were all dead. He rushed to Thomas side. He was going fast. Alices face was badly bruised but she seemed hardly to notice and Thomas said not a word as he quietly slipped away.

Dad stood up. The Royalists would pay for todays work. He left Thomas where he lay, picked up a sword from a fallen Cavalier and headed for the battle which raged for another hour or so, adding his weight to the numbers who drove the retreating cavaliers up Doncaster Gate and out of the town. For the time being, the Puritans had won the day.

Dad wiped the blood from his sword and went back for Alice. Entering the church, he saw that the Vicar was there. Dad took Alice from him and the vicar promised to see that Thomas was given a worthy burial.

How had it all happened? They had gone to Rotherham as neutrals for a days pleasure and, suddenly, Thomas was dead, Alice was badly hurt and my father had taken sides because of it.

He had taken Alice home and had held her tight until she slept. In the morning, he informed Squire Fretwell, who was furious. He raised his men and declared his estate to be on the side of Parliament.

It was the fourth of May before Lord Newcastle returned to Rotherham for his revenge with eight thousand picked troops and he camped at Masborough. Rotherham didnt have a chance. Battle commenced at Rotherham Bridge and at least half of the defenders were women as well as thirty boys from the Grammar School.

It ended when the ammunition ran out and William Spencer was arrested. So were George and Henry Westby while Godfrey Bosvile, Dads uncle, escaped.

Dad had also managed to slip away with Vicar John Shawe and eventually, after weeks of hiding from troops, he found his way back to Hellaby and to his cousin.

You look tired, Jack.

Yes, Alice, I am very tired. Tired of the fighting, tired of running and tired of hiding. When will it all end?

What is the latest news, do you know?

I heard snippets in Sheffield today. Apparently, Lord Fairfax has been defeated at Adwalton Moor. He marched out of Bradford to engage Lord Newcastle in an attempt to preserve the town but had little in the way of troops left. They were just peasants really and had little more than scythes to fight with while Lord Newcastle had the money to buy four thousand Royalists and mercenaries. They didnt stand a chance and the Fairfaxes only got away by the skin of their teeth. I heard that Fairfax is now in Hull which has been betrayed and is currently under siege. Its the end, Alice. The King controls virtually all the north of England.

So it has all been a waste of time, she said sadly.

And lives. Just imagine how many have been killed. And for what? Nothing has been gained. The Kings still rules as before.

What will you do now?

I must return to Sarah. She thinks I am dead.

Alice looked at him in the candlelight. Stay a while, Jack. For me.

He reached out and took her cold hand. Alice, you are a wonderful person and I love you very much. But Sarah needs me. I must try to return, if it is safe.

She looked sad and a tear dripped from her chin and fell to the table. Go then, Jack. And God be with you.

IT had been a long journey south for Dad. He had stayed overnight at Newark and again at Peterborough and, by lunchtime on the third day, he was in Huntingdon. The leaves were just beginning to fall from the trees in the market place as he made his way towards to inn beside the church.

Suddenly, he was almost knocked over as arms were thrown around his neck and soft lips found his. He was taken aback until he saw the long golden tresses and smelt the lavender in her hair.

After many minutes, she pulled free. Jack, its so good to see you. What are you doing here? Have you come to join the army?

Army? No, Elizabeth, I was on my way home from Hellaby.

Hellaby? How are Tom and Alice?

Im afraid that Thomas is dead. He was killed by Royalists at Rotherham.

Oh, no. She sat down on the low churchyard wall with sadness in her eyes. Is Alice all right?

No. She is totally lost without him and it will be a long time before she is able to cope with life. But, her nephew is the squire there now and he is doing what he can to help her.

Elizabeth shook her head. Poor Alice. They were so close.

Tell me. Hows Simon doing?

He...hes all right. She tossed her head and her hair seemed to sparkle. Hes helping Oliver to train the new Model Army.

Oliver?

The local squire, Oliver Cromwell. Like many others, he is sick of the war already and is raising a private army of his own to pressure both sides into making peace.

It seems a good ideal, but will it work?

He seems to think so. If the army is professional enough, it will be undefeatable.

How did you get to find out about it?

Simon has known Oliver for some years. Apparently, Oliver was going to go to America when Simon returned a few years back, but the King had stopped him. Apparently, the King believed in Olivers integrity and thought he was the only honest man in the House of Commons. The King was most upset when he wouldnt join his side. Oliver wanted to remain neutral, you see.

Yes, he said sadly. Thomas and I tried that, but it didnt work.

She grasped my Dads hands and moved so that her knees touched his. Tell me, how are Sarah and Carrie?

I dont know. I was just heading for Rettendon to try to see them. They think I am dead.

Oh, poor Sarah. Are you going there now?

Yes. I must. Tell me, Beth. How is Simon...in himself?

He hasnt changed. She looked sad. He still has his... drinking problem. Oliver gets very angry at times, hes so strict about that sort of thing. But Simon has been trained as a soldier and Oliver needs men like him.

Is Michael with you? Hell be grown up by now.

Yes. Hes a fine boy and just like his father, mad on horses. Hes twenty-five now, you know.

Married?

Good heavens, no. He hasnt found a girl yet that looks like a horse and, if he ever does, he will marry her without hesitation.

Dad had smiled. My Rachel is twenty-one now and I guess shell marry soon. Unfortunately for Michael, she doesnt look a bit like a horse.

Elizabeths laugh was infectious. It always had been. Dad looked at her in the autumn sunshine and it took him back thirty years although she was still beautiful in spite of her worry lines. Why on earth had the stupid woman fallen for Simon? What pain she must have experienced over the intervening years.

Will you come and stay? she had asked.

Dad shook his head. I cant, I must find Sarah.

Thats becoming a lifes occupation for you, isnt it? He looked sad and she continued. Oh Jack, Im sorry. Have I said the wrong thing again? I seem to spend my life saying and doing stupid things, dont I?

Dad held her close as tears ran down her cheeks. If only things had been different. But then he would not have Sarah. If he ever had to choose again, what would he do?

He rose to go and Elizabeth gave him their address and begged him to stay if ever he was in the area again. Oliver would do anything for the chance to get someone like you into his army, Jack. He needs good men right now if he is to stop the bloodshed.

I promise I will call to see you again and will consider seriously what you have said. Anyway, he shrugged, If I cant find Sarah, yours will be the only home I will have.

Dad had laughed but Elizabeth had been deadly serious. Her hand fell on his arm and her eyes penetrated right to his soul. If...if things dont work out, my home is your home. You will be very welcome to stay as long as you like. It would make me very happy.

He had held her head in his hands and kissed her gently. I promise.

Secret Journey

At Rettenden, there were no repercussions following the release of the captive soldiers. Whether they felt guilty about accusing us after we had looked after them so well or whether they were simply fed up of fighting, Ill never know. Whichever it was, they didnt disturb us again.

The day Henriette returned from visiting her relatives in France to try to raise money for the Royalist cause, Sarah was cooking dinner. It was Annies day off and our family were alone together as Mark and Rachel had gone to Maldon for supplies. He was taking great care of her in her present condition because, by the New Year, she would have her arms full.

While my mother cooked, I sat in the armchair in the library, reading to Mary Beth. At eleven, she was still finding reading a little difficult though she had learned the French language from Sarah without any trouble. As she tried to master the difficult words, I saw in her the spitting image of another girl of about her own age - a young girl who never smiled, never had reason to smile. A girl who died while still a child because of disgusting men.

Carrie, Sarah called from the kitchen. Yellow smoke.

Okay, Ill go. Now then, Mary Beth. Will you look after grandma for me while I go across to the asylum?

Yes Mummy, she said. I kissed her forehead and smiled at the term she had used for me.

It was such a nice day that I decided to walk. Birds circled as they prepared to migrate south for the winter and leaves fell in the lane, covering the rutted track with a golden carpet while the trees cast long shadows onto the fields. No-one would dream that we were a country divided and at war as I skipped and hopped up the long drive to the asylum. I pulled down my woollen sleeves as a light breeze stirred the last of the leaves on the big oak in front of the old house. Feeling a little guilty, I thought that I should really have changed as I was coming to see the Queen and I felt disreputable, but it was too late now.

Without hesitating, I walked past the carriage and burst in the front door and found two men standing inside the hallway. One was tall and dark, the other small with a long, dark moustache. I smiled at them and they bowed to me.

Good afternoon, gentlemen, I said. Are you being seen to?

Oui, Mademoiselle, spoke the taller of the two men as he bowed slightly.

Carrie, spoke the Queen, emerging from the kitchen, a slice of rye bread in her hand. How good to see you. Have you met my cousin, Philippe?

No, Your Highness. I curtsied because of the company.

Henriette grinned wickedly. Philippe, this is my very good friend, Lady Caroline Ramsden, looking her usual fetching self.

I wiped my hands on my apron and pushed my hair back from my face. To be caught looking like a tramp today of all days.

My cousin, Prince Philippe des Puys.

He took my hand and bowed very low, sweeping his feathered hat across himself. Enchantée, Comtesse. Henriette has told me much about you but, in the words of the Queen of Sheba, I have not been told the half.

I blushed at his flattery. He was gorgeous and he held onto my hand as he kissed it. His eyes were my Dads eyes, Georges eyes, Henrys eyes. I felt I could trust them.

The Queen suddenly became business-like. Well, Carrie. What news of your father? have you heard definitely whether he is alive or not?

No, My Queen. Not a word. My mother is beside herself with worry.

She put her hand on my arm. I know the feeling.

Would you come to dinner at the Hall tonight, Your Highnesses?

Wed love to, Carrie. We have a few urgent messages to send first though. Shall we say seven oclock?

I smiled. Perfect. I will return to help Sarah prepare. I backed away, eager to take myself away and smarten up a bit. A bientt, mes amis.

I ran all the way home. I had a lot of scrubbing and dressing to do before seven. Blow the dinner, Sarah could manage that.

AT seven precisely, the coach drew up outside and Mark opened the door. I was petrified as I stood waiting in the hallway.

Her Majesty the Queen, announced Mark.

I curtsied low as the Queen and Prince entered, arm in arm, the little manservant following.

The Queen touched my head. You look magnificent, Carrie. How on earth did you manage such a transformation so quickly?

I blushed. Practice, Your Highness.

The Queen laughed. The Prince took my hand and kissed it again, staring into my eyes. My goodness, I feel all weak at the knees and I do not even have my riding boots on underneath. My feet curled at the toes as he took my arm to lead me into the dining room.

Hey, you two, called Henriette. Wakey, wakey.

I forced myself back to the present and introduced Sarah. She was looking so tired. Worry was ageing her fast. We must find out the truth soon.

In spite of that, she had excelled herself and dinner was superb. Rachel ate for two, as usual, and Mark tried hard not to look like an ex-coachman. After the first few minutes, formality disappeared completely and we were like old friends gathered together for a reunion. Philippe told us of changes in France and was very impressed with Sarahs knowledge of French and heard of her experiences with polite responses.

Carrie. We need to try and get to the King at Oxford, said Henrietta finally.

Well find a way to get you there, I said thoughtfully. Inspiration came. I know. How would you fancy being a ladys maid?

I dont know, Carrie. Ive never tried. She laughed at her own joke.

Then I will teach you. Tomorrow, Lady Caroline Ramsden and her family are going to Oxford with her nanny. I looked at Sarah who looked playfully offended.

With her coachman. I looked at Philippe and he shrugged.

And with her personal maid, Marie.

AT nine the next morning, we all set off in the coach. Philippe and his manservant sat on top and I sat inside with Sarah, Henriette and the children. Mark and Rachel decided to stay at the asylum due to the closeness of their childs birth.

I was later to find out that, a short time after we had all departed, a lone horseman rode up to the front door and knocked. Getting no reply, he went round the house, looking in at all the windows but Rettendon Hall was deserted. The rider then took a piece paper from his saddlebag and wrote upon it two words. He pushed the paper under the door and remounted his horse. After looking at the house for a long time, he rode off northwards.

IT was a long way to Oxford and, as we rode, our coach passed through towns which were strange to me. It was close to Hatfield that we were stopped by a huge detachment of Roundheads who encircled the coach and looked at us very suspiciously.

Where are you going? demanded their leader.

Henriette drew in her breath sharply. It is Sir Thomas Fairfax. He knows me well.

You had better speak to them, said Sarah to me. Philippes accent is a dead giveaway.

I nodded and quickly put my head out of the window. What do you men want?

Sir Thomas saw me and nudged his horse closer. When beside the coach, he raised his hat politely and I could not fail to be impressed by his gentlemanly manner. However, my heart beat faster. What was he doing here? Did he suspect? I barely heard the click as Sarah cocked her pistols beneath the skirts of her dress.

We are searching for Royalists, madam, he continued. To where are you headed?

To my relatives at Aylesbury, I lied.

And who, may I ask, might you be?

I am Lady Caroline Ramsden and these are members of my family and my household servants.

He pushed aside the curtains of the coach with his sword, the point of which was within inches of Henriettes face. Fortunately, it was bowed as a good servants should be.

He looked back to me. My father tells me that your husband was a good man. He was most distressed to hear of his death. May I be permitted to add my own condolences for his loss?

Despite the circumstances, I found myself liking the man. Henry had certainly spoken with respect concerning Lord Fairfax.

I smiled. Thank you, Sir Thomas.

He looked around the open countryside. It is not safe here at the moment, My Lady, especially with darkness approaching. I must insist that you come with us to the nearest town.

I tried to protest that it was not necessary but he insisted and led the way westwards at a slow pace.

What are we going to do now? whispered Sarah.

I dont know, I said thoughtfully. For the time being, we will just have to do as he says.

At the old coaching inn on Watling Street, Henriette proved herself a very good actress. Despite the fact that she had never had to do very much for herself in the past, she played the part very well, fetching and carrying bags and looking after me. I felt uncomfortable at being waited upon by the Queen of England but we all knew there was no other option whilst we were being watched so closely. We had just settled into our rooms when a knock came at the door.

Who can it be? whispered Henriette.

I shook my head. Sarah, would you answer it?

She did and, outside the door stood the gallant young General Fairfax.

He looked straight past Sarah to me. I do hope that you ladies are well settled.

I stepped forward with a smile. Yes, thank you, Sir Thomas. You have been very kind to us. How can we thank you?

He grinned. By accompanying me to dinner this evening. I hear the landlord provides an excellent meal with good wine. He paused. ..If your Ladyship drinks wine....

I heard Henriette draw in her breath once more and prayed she would rather remain silent and not give us all away.

Glancing at Sarah and receiving the kind of knowing look only mothers seem capable of generating, I replied, I would love to. May I have time to get ready?

He bowed. Naturally. I will call at eight. He looked straight at Henriette. In the meantime, perhaps your maid would care for the other duties.

I nodded. How much did he know? My heart beat double speed as I closed the door and then leant on it with closed eyes.

What are you going to do? whispered Sarah.

I am going to have dinner with Sir Thomas. Who knows what I might learn that may just help the King?

SIR Thomas had been correct. Dinner was indeed delicious despite the fact that there was a war on and supplies were short due to repeated poor harvests.

How goes the war? I dared to ask when we were relatively alone - he in his smart uniform and sash, me in my best silk dress.

It does not go well for the King, Im afraid.

I frowned. You do not seem too pleased about that.

I am concerned about what might happen if Parliament win the day.

I was astonished. But you are fighting on behalf of Parliament. Surely, you are amongst its foremost supporters.

Not any more, My Lady. For over a month now, the New Model Army has become separated from direct control by Parliament.

But I dont understand.

He smiled pleasantly. Nor does most of England, Im afraid. For the first time, the fighting is left to professional soldiers rather than politicians.

That is better?

Of course. Up to now, both sides have had their fanatics, religious and political. Now, with the Army in the middle, things can be finished quickly.

Finished?

He nodded. I am pleased to say that, within the week, the war will be over.

Dare I ask? Who will win?

The Army, of course.

And Parliament?

Not necessarily. I dread what would happen if Parliament ruled the land.

My mouth dropped open. But I thought...

He laughed. My dear Lady Caroline, you are too innocent by half. Do you honestly think that this war is all about whether the country is ruled by the King or Parliament?

I nodded. I rather did think so.

Far from it. He leant towards me. There can only be one ruler of England.

Whom did he mean? Cromwell? Ireton? Himself, perhaps?

He whispered, The King must rule.

The K..King?

Of course. There is no-one else capable of commanding sufficient respect.

Then why are you trying to destroy him?

It was his turn to frown. Destroy him? Not so. Restrain him - yes. Destroy him - definitely not!

I did not expect to hear this from your lips, Sir Thomas.

You would hear an equal sentiment from any of the generals, My Lady. Including the ambitious Mr Cromwell.

He is back?

He nodded. At my request. I need a second-in-command I can trust. Someone who is not a fanatic but an able leader of men.

I see. Did I hell! I was more confused than ever. You are going to fight the King now?

Within the next few days. He has marched north from Oxford and we hope to confront him close to Northampton.

What if you lose?

Then Charles Stuart will remain King of England - on his own terms.

And if you win?

He may yet still be King, but on our terms.

Your terms?

He leant forward again. Better that than on Parliaments terms - if they have any. He smiled. At the present, they seem unable to agree upon anything.

Then the Army will rule.

No, the Army will control. It is not the same thing.

That will be good for the Army.

It will be good for England, he declared firmly. Your father was right when he told the King that it is England that counts, not who rules it. What happens next must be for the good of England, My Lady.

Other people turned to look at us as Sir Thomas raised his voice.

I placed my hand over his. Once, a very good friend of mine gave me some excellent advice. He told me that I was too nice by half and that I should be very careful else others will take advantage of my good nature. I say to you now, Sir Thomas. Your ideals are good and your principles are fine. Beware that what you may win on the battlefield you do not lose in the House.

He suddenly relaxed and then smiled. I will remember well you words, my dear Lady Caroline.

How many men do you have? I enquired innocently.

Upward of twenty-thousand, My Lady. Im afraid even the brave Prince Rupert cannot help the King now.

My heart leaped at the name and I tried frantically to suppress my mixed feelings on the subject. I changed the topic of conversation quickly. And where will the King be now, Sir Thomas? You say he has marched north from Oxford?

I fear so, My Lady. He seems to prefer a guerrilla type of war at the moment but we will catch up with him very soon. And when we do, it will all be over.

You seem very sure.

It has to be, for Englands sake. This war must end before the country destroys itself from within.

Together, we finished our meal and he took me for a short walk in the gardens and played the proper gentleman throughout. Despite our differences, I liked him. But could I trust him? I decided not to risk it.

Upon our promenade I was able to notice that only a few of the senior officers were staying at the inn. The common soldiers had been allocated various barns and stables around about, some even sleeping in the fields. Although the beginning of the month had been wet, it now seemed somewhat dryer and warmer. A perfect time for a decisive battle.

Eventually, Sir Thomas showed me back to my room where I breathed a sigh of relief.

How was it? demanded the others eagerly.

Im afraid The King is no longer at Oxford. I repeated to them everything the chivalrous gentleman had said and Henriette sat down on the bed and cried.

Sarah comforted her as my mind whirled. After a moment, I got up and left them. Tiptoeing down the stairs, I saw the landlord and tried to get his attention.

He eventually came over to me. My Lady?

Landlord, I whispered. Can I have a quiet word with you?

He bowed. Certainly, My Lady. How can I assist you?

I took him into a corner of the lounge and gave him some money. I wish to reward the brave soldiers in the stables for their concern for us. Please ensure that they get all the ale they need.

He looked amused. Some of these soldiers do drink a lot of ale, My Lady. Sometimes, I wonder who are the more holy - the Royalists or the Puritans.

I winked at him and whispered, I would like them all to become drunk; very drunk indeed.

He winked back. Leave it to me, Your Ladyship. Ive got some real strong stuff in the cellar.

I knew I could rely on you, I said, closing his hand gently over the gold coins in his palm.

IT was very dark as we all left the inn quietly and Philippe and the other man put the horses to the coach while the drunken soldiers slept.

Do you think we will get away safely, Carrie? whispered the Queen as we waited by the doorway.

I hope so, Henriette. I want to try to avoid any bloodshed, if possible. Too many good people have died already.

Carrie, Im scared.

I held her close for a moment and looked over at Philippe who watched us carefully, his eyes urging prompt departure. I nodded to him and Sarah started to climb into the coach to prepare it for the Queen while I went to open the gate.

I thought so, said a voice behind us as Sarah stood, one leg on the step of the coach. I was right. This is no maid, is it?

We all turned to face Sir Thomas Fairfax who stood alone in the doorway. No-one moved as he slowly walked over to Henriette and stood in front of her. What were we going to do? He only had to give the command and we would be caught like rats in a trap. As he looked at Philippe and his servant, my fingers slid carefully down until they touched the top of my boot. Why did he have to hear us go?

The handle was in my hand as I surreptitiously inched forward until I was just a yard or so behind him. Could I do it after he had been so nice to me?

As if sensing my presence, he slowly looked round at me and he opened his mouth. I was too far away to strike before he could shout but my whole body tensed, ready to spring forward and stifle his cry with six inches of razor-sharp steel.

He smiled to me, then suddenly turned back and bowed to the Queen. Your Majesty.

I stepped closer, my little dagger still in my hand behind me. You knew?

My dear Lady Caroline, credit me with some intelligence. He winked as he helped me into the coach. This will remain our little secret?

Of course, I said as he closed the door.

He bowed once more to Henriette. My respects to your husband the King.

WE got away safely and galloped at full speed into the night. I was still confused. Why did he help us? Was it a trap? Were we now being pursued by his men?

It was a nightmare ride as Philippe drove the horses hard over the rough ground expecting that at any moment we might be caught. If we were, there would be no getting away so easily again.

Watling Street was long and straight as we galloped north-westwards, hoping to head off the King before the battle position was established. It was as the new day dawned that we saw soldiers again close to Daventry.

Philippe drew to a halt a few paces from the barricade they had thrown across the road and several of the men came towards us, swords and muskets in their hands. The road was too narrow to turn and the soldiers too many to fight. We were caught and, this time, there would be no escape.

THOROUGHLY dejected, I put my head out of the window in an attempt to do what I could. Soldiers had surrounded the coach and, as the barriers were moved to let us be escorted past, a familiar figure rode up on horseback and stopped alongside. For a long time, neither of us spoke as our eyes remained fixed on each others.

Eventually, he looked away embarrassed. Is the Queen with you?

I nodded quickly. Yes, Your Highness.

Very well. He dismounted and strode towards the door. Prince Rupert bowed to his aunt. The King awaits you close by, Your Majesty.

Henriette let out a sigh of relief. Thank God. I must go to him at once.

The Prince looked at Philippe. Monsieur le Comte, you will please to follow me?

Philippe nodded, unsure as to what this was all about. Henriette held my hand for a moment. Thank you, Carrie, for everything.

I shrugged. We are friends, nest-ce-pas?

She smiled. I certainly hope so.

THE King met us after we had ridden about a mile and we all stepped down from the coach. He warmly welcomed his wife and son and then turned to Sarah and I. Ladies, however can I thank you for bringing my wife to me safely?

It was nothing, Your Majesty, I assured him.

Henriette smiled knowingly. She knew different and the King was shrewd enough to recognise his wifes expression.

Not so, Lady Caroline, he said. When this mess is over, you must serve at my court.

You are very kind, Sire, I said as I curtsied and noted that Rupert had thankfully disappeared.

Well, I hope you will forgive me but my Lords await me. A battle must be fought but I hope to see you again soon. Please have a safe journey home again.

So, the King was human after all. Perhaps the war had been good for him because gone was the pompous manner he had wielded on previous occasions and, instead, here before me was a man who had semingly learned humility the hard way and I respected him for that.

Henriette kissed my cheek and then quickly left before the tears flowed free. Suddenly, Sarah and I were left alone with Prince Philippe.

Your King is right, Carrie, he said. You should be at court. In fact, you should not be a Lady at all. He paused and looked me straight in the eyes. You should be a Princess.

Was this a proposal? Sarah pretended to see important things on the horizon as he reached out and took my hand. Kissing it gently, he peered into my eyes as my heart flew from cloud to cloud.

He smiled. I will stay with my cousin as long as she needs me and then see her safely back to France. When will I see you again?

You know where to find me, I said with a curtsy. I await your command.

Not a command, Princess. A plea from the heart.

La Planque

Andrew and John Henry took it in turns to drive us home. They were only teenagers but, inside, they were already men. Our journey was uneventful and, eventually, we drew up outside Rettendon Hall and Mark opened the door to us, a beaming smile on his face.

Well? said my mother as she opened the coach door.

Sarah, you have a granddaughter.

He held out his hand and helped her from the coach. How she had aged these last couple of weeks. Where was the mother I knew and loved? She walked inside and took off her cape her eyes dull with fatigue.

By the way, Carrie, said Mark. When we got back there was a note pushed under the door. I dont understand it.

He handed me the scrap of paper and it contained just two words in French. I read them but the full implication did not dawn on me. Was this some kind of a practical joke? I showed Sarah who looked over my shoulder and she gasped and went as white as a sheet.

Mother, w..what is it? I stammered as I held her to prevent her falling. Mark grabbed her other arm as her legs folded under her.

The doctor, quickly, I shouted to Andrew, who ran to the asylum.

Mark and I practically carried her to the library where we lay her on the settee, the note clasped tightly in her hand. She was having great difficulty in breathing.

What is the matter with her? asked Rachel. What did the note say?

It had those two French words on it, said Mark. La Planque. It must have meant something to Sarah.

Rachel undid her mothers neckline and gave her a drink of water but she could not swallow. Her eyes were wide and staring and she had gone deathly pale.

George Merry came urgently and looked after her but she remained in a very poorly state. Eventually, I got chance to ask what was wrong and whether anything further could be done.

It is her heart, he replied. It can take little more.

Is she seriously ill?

Not really ill as we know it. Her heart is just simply giving up the ghost.

But why?

Its a long story, Carrie, he said, sitting on the edge of my bed. When your father first brought her to me, thirty years ago, she was virtually dead.

But she would have been very young at the time.

Yes, But her heart had been under considerable stress for nearly two years. An unhappy marriage to James, divorce when it was not her fault, torture and rape at Twigmoor. Why she had not died, Ill never know.

Go on.

Your father saved her and took her to be healed in France, but she was not at all well. Her heart had taken more in those few years than most of us take in a lifetime. She had a weak heart right back then and your father knew that.

Then how has she lasted so long?

She has always had someone to help her. When she was in the asylum, you saved her life, did you know that?

I shook my head. Not really.

She would not have stood much of that treatment. Your father told me of the time when she was sentenced to be tortured to death in France. The spectators would have had very poor entertainment that day. At the very first touch of the branding iron, her heart would have stopped dead. Of that I am absolutely certain.

But why didnt this happen when she first heard that Dad had supposedly been killed?

He frowned. I dont know. She should have done by all rights. Tell me exactly what happened.

He was arrested so I collected her and brought her to Rettendon. She looked very bad.

Then what happened?

I cant remember. We went to bed, if I remember correctly.

How do you mean, you went to bed?

Just that. Sarah and I locked ourselves in my room, got into bed and lay in each others arms for three days. Very childish of us.

Childish or not, that prompt action saved your mothers life. The problem was shared, so it was halved. Your calmness and reassurance would have kept her from going over the top. Also, your body heat would have kept her circulation going. Your comforting relaxed her.

I see.

He grinned. Ill bet it was Sarah who got up first.

I nodded. How could you possibly know that?

By the fact that she lived afterwards.

What I cant understand is why is she so bad now? Why, when the message must have told her that Dad could actually be alive and well?

That is the whole point, Carrie. When she needed a baby, you, who was there?

Dad was.

When she ran away and was imprisoned at Twigmoor, who came for her?

Dad did.

When she was dying and needed medical care for four years, who provided that care?

Why, Dad did that, too.

Exactly. When she was arrested and stripped for the ordeal by fire, who arrived at the very last minute, mere seconds before her heart would have given out?

Dad and the Cardinal did.

When her heart was in turmoil upon their return to England, who took her and married her, gave her a home, children. Who loved her more than anyone in the world?

I looked down. Dad did.

Now do you see the point? Never once had your Dad needed her, until now. At the very one and only time in her life that he needed her, she was not there. She feels as though she has deserted him.

But it wasnt her fault that she was not there. Sarah hadnt planned it.

I know that, my child. But the fact remains that, to her mind, he had come for her and she had not been here. She felt she had totally betrayed him.

I think I begin to understand.

Carrie. Your mother suffers from something we could all do with more of. She has loved too hard and too long.

And now Dad has gone again.

Yes, my child. Im afraid so and this time, it might be for good.

How do you know?

Many died at Naseby, Carrie.

But I must know. More than ever now.

Then I will personally go to where the Model Army in based and try to find out news of him.

Thank you, George. I would feel much better if I knew.

I know you would. I will leave tomorrow, with your permission. You must look after yourself while Im away.

AFTER Sarah died, I was ordered to rest for six months. However, I had one unexpected pleasure. Rachel often let me hold her tiny new baby. Antoinette had blue eyes just like her father and auburn hair like her mother. She was a happy baby, with constant smiles from a very young age. Perhaps she was a symbol of the future.

Several more battles were fought during that time. Naseby has been a disaster for King Charles and he had been forced to retreat. The battle was not as decisive as Sir Thomas had hoped and minor skirmishes continued all over the country. Rupert was ordered by the King to hold Bristol but, after only three weeks, he gave in for the sake of the people. Apart from being short on supplies, plague had struck the city and only the Princes prompt surrender saved hundreds, maybe thousands of lives. Perhaps he was finally growing up.

Sir Thomas Fairfax, who was holding the siege, in an act of supreme grace, allowed the Prince to go free and return to his uncle at Oxford. The King, for his part, refused to understand Ruperts reasons for surrendering Bristol and removed from office his most able and faithful general. The end was now in sight.

Whilst many were trying desperately to moderate the situation into peace, two extremes were prolonging the confrontation. One of these was the changing attitude of Oliver Cromwell who was beginning to see his part in the matter as some kind of “Holy Crusade and also that of the King who now refused to give in to terms and conditions that were deemed to have been extremely reasonable.

If it had been possible to place the two men in one field, alone with their own weapons, many lives would have been spared over the next few months. However, Cromwell saw the need, not only to conquer but also to plunder and butcher both men and women in the name of Christ as he did at Basing House.

The King, in a similar mould proved that his word could not be relied upon and even the reasonable Sir Thomas Fairfax became disheartened by the way he continually proved to be untrustworthy. It was after the battle of Preston that The King was arrested and taken to London to stand trial for “crimes against the state.

In the meantime, Henriette had completely disappeared from the scene. Parliament searched high and low but hadnt known where to look.

THE Kings trial was to be held in Westminster Hall and I arranged to be there. It was on the sixth day of the trial that I arrived as the final evidence was heard, for and against.

What was now clear from the proceedings was that the King was at least partly in the right. Sir Thomas refused to be present as he viewed the whole matter as a travesty because Parliament constantly broke the law. What those supposedly godly men had gained in credibility, they were losing fast due to their repeated lies. It was the Earl of Essex who finally got to me.

And so, My Lords, you see what sort of King we have had.

And what sort of King do you wish to become? All eyes were upon me as I stood in the gallery.

Silence, My Lady, I am speaking.

You would dare to stifle free speech in the house, My Lord Essex? What was it you fought for all those years ago.

But, Lady Caroline, you are a woman.

I sighed audibly. So you finally noticed.

A titter ran round Westminster Hall. He was obviously embarrassed by my presence but I saw no reason to let him off the hook.

You are not allowed to speak, he murmured.

Then perhaps it is time we were allowed to speak. If the women of this country had a voice now, it would be unanimous. “Stop the war it would say. “Stop the bloodshed. We are all sick and fed up of losing our menfolk. And for what? A field here, a tree there. Its all so futile.

Futile or not, it is a fact of life, My Lady.

Then its time someone had the guts to stop it. You havent and neither has anyone else in this room. The one man who did have the guts to confront the King with his views, you had taken away from us.

And who might that be, I pray?

My own father. He is the best man that ever lived and was more of a man than the lot of you put together. When you took him away, you also killed my mother.

Your mother is dead?

Yes, My Lord. She is dead because of you and your stupid war. Stop it now before it is too late.

Thats odd, hes moving about. Theyre all moving about, going round and round. And whats that pain again in my chest? I cant breathe. Whats that voice that keeps calling me?

Carrie.

Its a long way away, down a long tunnel.

Carrie.

I know that voice, but it cant be here.

Carrie.

Its all faint and fuzzy. I must keep hold of these railings or I shall fall. Why is everyone looking at me?

Carrie.

I turned to look behind me. DAD. Darkness fell as I collapsed into his arms.

WHEN I awoke, the room was not moving anymore and was almost empty. I looked closely. It was a different room. A kindly man let go of my wrist, smiled and left as some other people came in.

And how is my favourite eldest daughter?

Dad!

He smiled and sat on the end of my bed. I looked at his companion. Why is Aunt Elizabeth here? And why on earth is she holding my Dads hand?

Carrie, we come to you for your approval and blessing, Elizabeth said.

My blessing?

Yes, my dear, said my father. You do know that no-one will ever replace Sarah, dont you?

I nodded, confused by it all.

She was the wife of my youth, my favourite, and Elizabeth knows that. However, neither of us are young any more.

I looked at the woman who had brought me up as a young child. But what about Uncle Simon?

My mothers best friend took my hand. Im afraid Simon is dead.

Dead?

She nodded sadly. He fought at Naseby. In the end, his bravery overcame his drinking problem and he was cut down when Prince Ruperts men charged.

And you, dad?

I didnt go to Naseby. Training men was one thing but I found I could not fight the King. Doctor Merry found me in Huntingdon and gave me the news about Sarahs death. At first, I was devastated but I found comfort in Elizabeths arms.

So, we hope to remarry, I heard Elizabeth say through my thoughts. If that is all right with you.

I sat for a moment, completely dazed, as Iooked from face to face. They looked so happy together, just like they had all those years ago. I couldnt spoil it for them. I hugged Elizabeth warmly. Of course it is. Where will you live?

We have made up our minds. Your father and I both have so many memories here, good and bad, that we have decided to go to America while we still can. I have found out that Simon left me some land in Philadelphia where he lived for a while and we are going there as soon as it is possible. Sir Thomas can cope on his own here now.

Elizabeth was almost young again. This was the old Elizabeth of my childhood. The happy, smiling Elizabeth Bosvile of Cricksee Hall.

I shall miss you both, I said with tears in my eyes.

Dad grinned. I doubt it. You have one more visitor.

He opened the door and Prince Philippe came in. I held out my hand to him and he took it and kissed it. He didnt let go. Bonjour, Princess.

That was my mothers name.

He frowned. Princess?

Sarah. It means “princess.

Oh. Then perhaps I should call you Sarah?

I laughed at the thought that too many people might be even more confused by that and he held my hand as I looked at his manly figure, his dark brown hair and fine clothes.

I dared to look in his eyes and thought of all the good people who had died. Uncle James because he had failed Sarah, Uncle Thomas by the hand of Cavaliers, King Charles because of his stubborn pride, Sarah because of the ruthlessness of man, little Julie because of a lust which literally ripped her poor little body apart. Will the world never learn?

I looked again into those kind eyes. Perhaps there are some good things left in life.

Philippe smiled and I knew from that moment that Mary Beth and I were going to have to brush up on our French.