The Painter's Apprentice (36 page)

‘As for you,’ Sir George said to the twins, ‘you had better return to Salisbury.’

‘I suppose so,’ said Samuel doubtfully.

‘At least until it’s clear on which side of the fence we prefer to sit.’

The twins and Sir George left the room. Beth was forgotten.

What should she do? What
could
she do? One thing was clear: the Princess must be warned and there was little time to lose. Suddenly spurred into action,
she ran up the stairs as fast as her skirts would allow.

Hastily, she packed a bag, sweeping the items off the dressing table in one go and stuffing her clothes on top.

She found Lady Arabella in her bedchamber, surrounded by piles of petticoats, gloves and gowns, while her maid ran back and
forth weeping all the while.

Barely turning to look at her, Lady Arabella merely said, ‘We are returning to Windsor and you must go home.’

Beth lost no time. Luck was with her when she reached the landing stage and she hailed a boat heading for the city almost
at once. Willing the boatman to row faster, she gripped the bag upon her knees so tightly that her knuckles were white, while
thoughts whirled around in her head. How could she possibly accomplish what she had to do?

At last she made a plan. She scrambled off the boat at Whitehall
stairs and hurried into the nearby New Exchange, where she bought a pretty box tied with a blue satin ribbon and filled with
candied plums in paper cases. Scrabbling in her bag, she found a sketchbook and a stick of charcoal. She wrote a brief note
and then, without hesitating, slipped off the Princess’s sapphire ring. Wrapping the ring inside the note, she folded it as
small as she could and slipped it into one of the paper cases before retying the ribbon around the box.

She hurried through the streets until she came to the rambling collection of buildings that made up Whitehall Palace. Unsure
where to go, she asked one of the guards, who directed her through the gatehouse to the fourth door along. She found herself
in a central courtyard garden with trees and rows of statues A cold wind snatched at her hair and she hugged her cloak closely
around herself as she hurried to what she hoped would be the right place.

Taking a deep breath she knocked on the door. Two long minutes passed before the door opened to reveal a smartly dressed maid
with frosty blue eyes.

‘I am servant to Lady Sarah Churchill,’ said Beth, holding up the box of candied fruits, ‘and bring a small token of her esteem
for the Princess of Denmark.’

The maid frowned. ‘I don’t know you.’

Beth smiled uneasily. ‘I’m Lady Sarah’s new maid and I was worried I’d come to the wrong door.’ She spoke in a confidential
tone. ‘And I don’t think I want to suffer the sharp side of my lady’s tongue.’

The maid laughed and her expression softened. ‘I hear she doesn’t suffer fools gladly. She’s lodging with her brother-in-law,
the Earl of Tyrconnel, isn’t she? When is she coming back here then?’

Beth shrugged. ‘Maybe this evening. You know how it is; the mistress never tells you anything.’ Beth glanced along the side
of the building. ‘There are so many doors and I don’t know how I’ll ever find my way out again.’

‘You should have gone to the servants’ entrance, which is the next door along,’ said the maid. She held out her hands. ‘But
I’ll take your package and make sure it’s given to the Princess of Denmark, if you like?’

Beth clutched the beribboned box to her chest. ‘I’d rather hand it to her myself.’

The maid laughed. ‘The Princess doesn’t receive
maids!
’ She looked at Beth’s crestfallen face. ‘Don’t worry! I’ll deliver it. I’m Mary Forest, by the way.’

‘And I’m … Kate Smith.’ There was nothing else for Beth to do but hand her the box of sugar plums.

By the time Beth had waited her turn for a boat at the public stairs, darkness had fallen. It was damply cold and eerily black
on the river, with only the sound of the creaking rowlocks as the oars slipped in and out of the brackish-smelling water.
A screech owl calling to its mate on the bank made her jump and the boatman laughed.

‘What’s a young maid like you a-doing out on your own in the dark?’

‘My father is waiting for me,’ she lied, suddenly anxious.

‘Then I’d best deliver you safely, hadn’t I?’ He hawked and spat into the water before turning his attention back to his rowing.

There was a lantern on the landing stage at Fulham which she snatched up to guide her to the palace but she had gone no more
than a few yards when the light flickered and died. She waited until her eyes adjusted to the darkness, then fumbled her way
through the grounds. An icy wind rattled the branches of the trees and a fox slunk out of the bushes and streaked across the
grass on its way to the chicken yard.

She found her way into the quadrangle and knocked on the porter’s lodge.

‘You’re late, Miss. Shouldn’t be out here all alone in the dark.’

‘I need to speak to the Bishop. Is he here?’

‘He arrived but ten minutes since.’ The porter unhooked a ring of keys from the hook and made his way with measured steps
across the courtyard to unlock the great entrance door to the palace.

Slipping into the hall, Beth raced along the passage to the library, wasting no time before knocking.

The Bishop opened the door wide. ‘Miss Ambrose?’

‘I came at once,’ she said, ‘I didn’t know what else to do.’

‘Tell me.’ Henry Compton’s voice was gentle.

‘It’s the Princess. She’s going to be arrested.’

‘How did you hear this?’ He narrowed his eyes.

‘I lodge with my step-grandmother, whose husband is Sir George Vernon.’

‘Secretary to the Earl of Salisbury?’

Beth nodded. ‘My uncles have been with the army on Salisbury Plain. They came this evening to tell Sir George of the desertion
of the Prince of Denmark and Brigadier-General Churchill to the Prince of Orange’s cause.’

‘So soon? I wasn’t expecting …’

‘I heard that the King is even now travelling to London but has sent orders for the arrest of Princess Anne and Lady Sarah
tonight or tomorrow morning. I went straight to Whitehall to speak to her but the maid wouldn’t let me in.’

‘You did well to come and tell me.’

‘I sent a message to the Princess. I said that she was to pretend to go to bed early and that you would come for her tonight.’

‘Did you, by God!’ He gave a shout of laughter.

‘I was so frightened that harm might come to her.’ Beth shivered and blew on her hands, still aching with cold from the river
trip. ‘Of course, she may not find the message. But I do know she can’t resist sugared plums.’

The Bishop gave her a quizzical glance and then paced across the floor to stir the ashes of the fire into a blaze with the
toe of his boot.

‘What else did your uncles tell you, Miss Ambrose?’

Beth related the tales of confusion and disorder on Salisbury Plain and how the King suffered from debilitating nosebleeds.

‘Since there have been so many desertions already, the Prince of Denmark and Lord Churchill must have decided to act even
sooner than planned,’ said Bishop Compton. ‘But that leaves us with the difficulty of removing the Princess and Lady Sarah
to a place of safety. I thought we had several days yet.’

‘I came as soon as I could.’

Bishop Compton squeezed her shoulder. ‘You did the right thing.’ His kindly eyes bored into her. ‘But I believe I have to
ask you for further help before I can convey the princess to Nottingham.’

‘Anything!’

‘Good girl!’ I am known in Whitehall and if I go to fetch the Princess at this late hour, His Majesty’s servants will be suspicious.
I cannot risk precipitating her arrest.’

‘What can I do?’

‘A maidservant may pass unnoticed in Whitehall Palace.’

‘And you wish me to fetch the Princess to you?’

Bishop Compton smiled. ‘I always knew you were quick. Will you do this?’

‘Of course but we must hurry!’

‘I will send George London with you but the coach will have to remain out of sight of the palace. Lady Sarah will be in her
apartment …’

‘No, she is not. I believe her to be with the Earl of Tyrconnel at present.’

‘Then I will warn Lady Sarah and join you later at Whitehall. Lady Sarah’s children have already been sent to the country.’

‘How will I find the Princess? I should have asked her to meet us outside Whitehall.’

The Bishop shook his head. ‘The King’s servants spy on her and anything out of the ordinary will be immediately reported to
the Queen. No, you did the right thing because now we know she will
be in her bedchamber with a maid on a truckle bed outside her door.’

‘Then how will I reach her?’

‘Earlier this year, when the Prince was born, I suggested to the Princess and Lady Sarah that we make provision for an event
such as this. And my instinct has proved right. There is now a secret staircase between the closet in the Princess’s bedchamber
and that of Lady Sarah’s apartment below.’

‘No one knows of this?’

‘Only the Princess, Lady Sarah and myself. And, of course, the carpenter who has now gone to join the Prince of Orange’s men
at Axminster.’

‘So I must go into Lady Sarah’s apartment and reach the Princess by the secret stairs?’ She pushed away the terrifying thought
of what might happen to her if she was caught.

‘Precisely!’

It wasn’t until later, when Beth was hanging on to the straps as the coach shuddered and jolted its way through the dark on
the road to Whitehall, that she wondered how she was to gain access to Lady Sarah’s apartment. Lady Sarah wouldn’t be there
and the door would be locked. Perhaps she could throw stones up at the Princess’s window and she would come down the secret
stair and let herself out? But how would she know the right window?

These uneasy thoughts rolled around in her head as she fought back nausea while the carriage bounced along the rutted road
at break-neck speed.

After some time the coach slowed and lights were to be glimpsed outside. Beth rubbed away her frozen breath from the window
and peered into the dark.

At last they came to a halt with only a creaking sound to be heard as the swaying coach settled on its leather straps. Then
it rocked violently as George London jumped down from his perch on top and wrenched open the door.

Beth released her fierce grip on the hanging strap and climbed unsteadily down to the ground. ‘My bones are nearly rattled
to pieces,’ she said.

A number of carriages bowled past and three men, arm in arm and singing a bawdy ditty, emerged from a nearby tavern. Two ladies
of the night called to them from the shadows.

‘Charing Cross,’ said George London, his breath clouding the icy air. ‘I daren’t take the coach any closer. The Bishop will
be here soon with Lady Sarah. Will you be all right?’

Beth nodded, feeling far from all right.

George London led her across the road. ‘You need to cut across there, between those two trees, and you’ll come to Whitehall.
Go through a small archway and you’ll find a garden with statues.’

‘I know it,’ said Beth, through teeth chattering with cold and apprehension.

‘We’ll be waiting for you.’

Keeping to the shadows, she set off, her palms suddenly damp with fear. She hurried between the two trees to find the Palace
of Whitehall in front of her, its white stonework gleaming in the pale moonlight. Ranks of doors and windows punctuated the
front face of the building and she hesitated, wondering which way to turn. Turning left, she walked swiftly along until she
reached the corner. She had approached from the other side earlier in the day and didn’t recognise anything. Where was the
archway?

She retraced her steps, taking it more slowly, until she found it. She turned the iron handle, making it squeak loudly into
the night. Glancing over her shoulder, she paused only long enough to see that she was unobserved, then entered the garden.

A group of men chatted together, not far from where she stood; she hesitated but they were arguing a point with good-natured
laughter and no thought for anyone but themselves.

Taking a deep breath, she skirted close to the edge of the building, walking purposefully with her head down, just as if she
had
every right to be there. Once she had reached the opposite side of the courtyard, she counted the doors until she reached
the fifth one.

She tried the handle with shaking hands and barely suppressed a gasp as it opened. Standing motionless in the pool of dim
light which spilled from the doorway, her heart thumping in her chest, she fought down an almost irresistible desire to run
away, to return to Merryfields and never leave the safety of its walls again.

Footsteps clipped along the path and Beth glanced wildly around to see a cloaked man striding towards her. Without any other
thought than to escape, she jumped over the step and closed the door behind her. She leaned against it, the pulse in her throat
nearly choking her.

Outside, the footsteps marched past and faded into the distance and she breathed again. A long passage stretched out ahead
of her, dimly lit by candle ends set on sconces at intervals along the walls. Green doors lined the passage on each side.
Panic almost overwhelmed her. How could she possibly know which one led to Lady Sarah’s apartment?

She tiptoed to the first door and listened. A mumble of voices came from behind it, followed by a shout of laughter. Not that
one; Lady Sarah was away so the apartment would be empty. The sound of a viol came from the next door but the one after that
was silent and no light came from underneath it. Stealthily, she turned the handle.

‘Oh, it’s you!’

Beth let go of the handle as if it were a red-hot coal and spun around, her knees quivering like junket.

The maid she had met earlier in the day stood there with a pile of folded laundry in her arms. ‘What are you doing?’ A frown
wrinkled her forehead.

Beth took a deep breath. ‘Oh Mary! It is Mary, isn’t it?’ she gabbled. ‘I’m so pleased to see you. Lady Sarah asked me to
come on ahead and prepare for her arrival but I have no idea which is the right door.’

‘But Lady Sarah arrived an hour or two since.’

Beth stared at her in dismay. The Bishop must not have reached Lady Sarah in time to warn her.

Beth had to think fast. ‘Then I’m in a great deal of trouble, aren’t I?’ she wailed. She clasped her hands to her breast.
‘Mary, what am I to do? I don’t know London at all, I come from a little village in the country, and I became so lost. And
a most disrespectful man jumped out of an alley and made an improper suggestion to me and I ran away and couldn’t find my
way back. What if my lady turns me off without a reference?’ Tears of genuine fright rolled down her face.

‘Here!’ Mary thrust a clean handkerchief at her from the pile of laundry she carried. ‘She might not be too angry. But you’d
better catch up with your duties sharpish. Follow me!’

Still sniffing, Beth followed Mary’s neat figure along the passageway until she stopped outside a door. ‘There’s no light
inside. Perhaps you’re lucky and Lady Sarah is upstairs with the Princess of Denmark. She might not even have missed you.’
Mary held out her hand. ‘Key?’

A scarlet tide rose up Beth’s face as she struggled to find a plausible explanation for its absence. She bent her head and
fumbled for her pocket, drawing it out through the placket in her skirt. Pulling the drawstring open, she whispered, ‘It’s
gone!’

‘Are you surprised?’ Mary’s mouth was disapproving. ‘Look at the size of that hole in your pocket! You’re going to have to
change your ways, my girl, if you’re to work for a fine lady like Lady Sarah! What was she thinking of to employ such a country
bumpkin? Wait here!’ She bustled off down the corridor.

Beth tucked her pocket away again with shaking hands, thanking the Lord that she’d been too lazy to repair it.

Another serving maid came along and glanced at Beth curiously.

Dry-mouthed, Beth smiled to cover her anxiety and watched with relief as the maid entered another door.

Mary was a long time returning.

Sick with nerves, Beth tried the handle of the service door to Lady Sarah’s apartment, wondering if she could put her shoulder
to it and break it down. But, even if she had the strength, the noise would bring everyone running. In desperation, she knocked
quietly at the door but no one answered.

Then she heard Mary’s soft-soled shoes coming along the passage.

‘I borrowed this but I must take it back straight away,’ Mary said, putting the key in the lock.

It turned with a satisfying
clunk
and Beth sent up a silent prayer of thanks as Mary pushed open the door. Beth glanced into the darkness, suddenly afraid
again.

‘For goodness’ sake!’ Mary snatched up a candlestick from a nearby shelf and pushed it into Beth’s hands. ‘Now go!’

‘Thank you. I don’t know how I’d have managed without you.’

‘Neither do I.’ Mary’s smile softened the tartness of her words.

Quaking from the top of her head to the tip of her toes, Beth slipped into the apartment and closed the door behind her.

She stood in the darkness, every muscle tense, listening. Somewhere outside a dog barked but inside the apartment the air
was heavy with silence. There was faint smell of decaying vegetation. Slowly, she lifted her guttering candle and looked around.

Furniture loomed up from the shadows, a large cabinet, a day bed and a round table on which rested a vase of dead flowers.
Suddenly a hint of movement caught her eye and she froze. A woman stood on the other side of the room, watching her. Beth
exhaled in a shuddering gasp and lifted the candlestick higher, as did the other woman. A mirror. Her reflected self clutched
a hand to her breast.

Moonlight fell from the window and painted a pale lozenge on the floor. Beth took a step forward, skirting around it. A door.
Slowly, slowly, she lifted the latch but the scraping sound of it echoed all around her and she remained motionless, ears
straining into the darkness, but there was nothing but silence.

The rug under her feet was thick and luxurious and the room she
entered carried the expensive bouquet of orris root, attar of roses and face powder. A lady’s bedchamber. Her heart thudded
wildly in her breast and she breathed so shallowly that a feather a few inches before her face would not have stirred. She
pressed her back against the wall, gathering the courage to leave its safety and venture across the floor. The bulky shape
of the bed emerged in the flickering candlelight and Beth ran her fingers down the heavy damask drapes, crusted with embroidery.

Where was the secret stair? She hadn’t thought, until now when it was too late, to ask the Bishop how to find it. The bedchamber
appeared perfectly square with no possible place for a hidden staircase. Fear fluttered under her bodice. She could not return
without the Princess and Lady Sarah.

She tiptoed all around the bedchamber as cautiously as a cat, feeling for a jib door in the panelling but without success.
Her nerves stretched to breaking point, she began to press and pull frantically at the mouldings, searching for a hidden catch.
It was no good. Her breath came fast as she fought down the rising panic. How long would it be before the King’s men arrived?
If she didn’t find the stair the Princess and Lady Sarah could not avoid arrest. Lady Sarah would certainly be taken to the
Tower and beheaded. Even the Princess would not be immune from the King’s anger. And Beth Ambrose would be to blame.

Taking a deep breath, she stopped scrabbling at the panelling. The marble of the chimney piece was cold under her hands as
she clung to it for support. Studying the bedchamber again, she suddenly remembered Noah’s drawings of the house he wanted
to build in Virginia. There had been alcoves on either side of the carved chimneypiece. There were no recesses beside this
fireplace, only a flat wall hung with tapestries. That was it!

She pulled aside the tapestry to the left of the chimneypiece and found the door straight away. Almost sobbing in relief,
she opened it and stared in disbelief at the small chamber, empty save for a
broken chair and a chest. No staircase. She backed out of the room and went to the right of the chimneypiece to snatch aside
the other tapestry. Yes! Another door. She wrenched it open, whimpering in relief when her candle illuminated a narrow, winding
staircase.

The treads were treacherously steep and there was no handrail. Holding her skirts bunched up in one hand and the candle in
the other, she climbed the stairs, stopping at the top before another door. Slowly, she lifted the latch and pushed the door
against the heavy tapestry that covered it.

Another dark room, lit only by coals glowing in the grate. She’d expected to find Princess Anne waiting for her. Holding the
candle high, she surveyed the bedchamber. The bedlinen was thrown back as if the Princess had risen in haste and a chair was
overset on the floor. A picture hung askew and a glass lay on its side on the dressing table. Milk still dripped over the
edge on to the rug.

Dread rose in Beth’s throat. Had the Princess already been snatched from this place and transported to the Tower? Then a tiny
noise, a mere whisper of sound, made her head jerk up as she strained to listen. There it was again! She crept across the
carpet and lifted a corner of the tapestry which hung on the wall to the left of the chimneypiece. She ran her fingers over
the wall seeking, and finding, a recessed handle to the jib door. As she pulled the door open, there came a muffled sob.

Princess Anne, terror upon her face, and a weeping Lady Sarah huddled together on the floor in the corner of the closet.

Relief flooded over Beth.

Princess Anne sobbed again and held out her arms. ‘Beth, thank God it’s you! We thought they’d come for us.’

Beth helped the two women to their feet. ‘We must go quickly.’

‘Prince George and Lord Churchill left us behind,’ said the Princess, gripping Beth’s hand so hard that she winced. ‘They
went to join the Prince of Orange sooner than expected and they left us behind!’

Beth heard the rising edge of hysteria in her voice and spoke as calmly as she was able. ‘Bishop Compton is waiting for you
but we must leave quietly now.

‘What if the King’s men find us?’ Lady Sarah trembled so violently that her teeth chattered. ‘I don’t care if my husband’s
estates are forfeit but my children are in the country. The guard came to the Earl of Tyrconnel’s house and placed me under
house arrest this afternoon.’

‘Lady Sarah slipped away to warn me,’ whispered the Princess.

Convulsed by another fit of weeping Lady Sarah clasped her hands over her belly. ‘If they take me to the Tower what will happen
to my children? Will they behead me even before this babe is born?’

‘We must be very quiet and not let the soldiers catch us,’ said Beth in as brave a voice as she could manage. ‘Any of us.’
The prospect of being left to rot in the Tower or being taken to the scaffold herself made it hard to breathe. ‘Come!’ She
held out her hands to them.

‘Where are we going? I have nothing with me,’ said the Princess.

‘There’s no time!’ Fear made Beth speak sharply. ‘Fetch your plainest cloak and then we must hurry. The King returns to London
so we must outpace him.’

The Princess and Lady Sarah put on their cloaks, standing still like obedient children while Beth pulled up their hoods.