The Painter's Apprentice (37 page)

‘Ready?’ she said.

‘Wait!’ The Princess turned back to her chest and lifted out her jewel case. She scooped out handfuls of glittering necklaces,
bracelets and rings, stuffed them into a small cloth bag and thrust the whole into her pocket.

Barely able to contain her impatience, Beth led the two women down the staircase into Lady Sarah’s apartment. ‘Stay here while
I look outside.’ Very carefully, Beth opened the door to the service corridor just a crack. She heard footsteps and hastily
closed it again.

The footsteps died away.

Beth edged the door open again and listened. Hearing nothing, she peered through the crack. The corridor was deserted. ‘Now!’
she said.

They slipped into the corridor and hastened towards the outside door. Beth’s mouth was dry, her hands clammy with fear. Every
footstep resounded in her head and her back crawled as she imagined a thousand eyes watching her. She drew the door bolts
with shaking hands, glancing fearfully over her shoulder to see if the grating of the metal had alerted the servants. The
cold night air had never been so welcome. The courtyard garden was deserted but Beth fought down her longing to run hell for
leather straight across it and instead guided her charges around the perimeter in the darkest shadows. She could hear Princess
Anne’s breath coming in shallow pants.

At last they reached the gate in the wall and then they were running, running across the frosted grass, through the trees
towards Charing Cross as if the hounds of hell were behind them.

Two men materialised out of the darkness and came purposefully towards them. One caught at Beth’s arm and she yelped and gave
him a sharp kick to his shin before she was able to shake him free. He swore under his breath and snatched hold of Lady Sarah.

The Princess shrieked and struggled in the arms of the other man.

‘Let her go!’ Beth rained blows on to the head and shoulders of Princess’s attacker. She was damned if she was going to assist
the Princess in escaping from the King’s men only to allow her to be ravished by a common felon.

The assailant let go of the Princess and turned his attentions to Beth, imprisoning her arms in her cloak and holding her
close to his chest in a grip of iron.

‘Run!’ Beth screamed to the Princess, increasing her struggles to free herself.

‘Be still, you little hellcat!’

Beth kicked and squirmed. The assailant’s mouth was close to her ear, his breath on her cheek. ‘Stop it and I’ll let you go.
It’s me, George London.’

Beth became still. ‘How could you!’ she spat. ‘You scared us half to death!’

George London turned her to face the other man. ‘There’s no time to waste.’

‘The Princess has a fine defender in you, Miss Ambrose,’ said Bishop Compton.

The Princess leaned on one of his arms and Lady Sarah on the other.

‘Please, let us leave at once.’ Lady Sarah’s voice trembled.

Beth’s heart still raced but her knees had turned to jelly and she was grateful for George London’s support as he and the
Bishop escorted them to the waiting coach.

Lady Sarah, half swooning, was carried into the coach by George London and the Princess settled opposite her.

Beth stood back as George climbed up on to the top of the coach.

Bishop Compton took Beth’s shaking hand. ‘You have been fearless tonight, Miss Ambrose.’

‘On the contrary,’ she said, ‘I have never been so terrified in all my life.’

The Bishop raised her hand to his lips. ‘The mark of true courage is to do what you believe to be right, no matter what the
consequences and no matter how frightened you are. I salute you.’

Unable to speak for fear of tears, Beth only nodded.

‘Now hurry up and climb into the coach,’ said the Bishop. We’re going to Nottingham. You didn’t think I would abandon you
in the middle of the night on the wicked streets of London, did you?’

In the moonlight Beth caught a glimpse of his teeth as he smiled.

‘Though I fear for any footpad who meets
you
in the dark,’ he added, rubbing his bruised shin.

The coach began to roll away even before the door banged shut.
Beth looked out of the window to see the Bishop mount his horse, Lucifer, his sword glinting against his thigh. Really, she
thought as they careered off into the night, Bishop Compton was much more of a soldier than a man of God.

December 1688

A few days before Christmas, two horsemen clattered up the lane and set up a great hullabaloo until Joseph ran to unlock the
gate.

‘It’s the twins!’ said Cecily, peering out of the solar window.

Joshua and Samuel blew into Merryfields like a whirlwind, bringing in great draughts of cold air with them and dropping clumps
of mud from their boots all over the floors.

‘We’re off to join the Prince of Orange’s men at Nottingham,’ said Joshua.

‘Changing horses?’ asked William, with an ironic lift of his eyebrow.

‘It’s chaos in London. Not at all safe to be out in the streets. Riots and burnings everywhere,’ said Samuel. ‘All the Catholic
churches are being pulled down by the rabble. It shows a great lack of judgment to be a papist at this time. Even Mama agrees
it’s time to change sides.’

‘The Queen and the Prince of Wales escaped to France last week,’ said Joshua. ‘She disguised herself as a washerwoman and
the baby Prince as a bundle of laundry, would you believe? The King
has flown the nest and thrown the Great Seal into the Thames. Lord Salisbury’s house has been sacked and …’

‘The King has gone?’ asked William.

‘Flown like a bird!’ said Joshua. ‘Once his nosebleeds stopped he travelled back to London to find that the Princess of Denmark
and Lady Sarah Churchill had escaped to join the Prince of Orange at Nottingham.’ He struck a pose with his hand to his brow.
‘The King fell into a fit and cried out, “God help me, my own children have forsaken me!”’

‘That was his turning point; the moment when he knew all was lost,’ said Samuel.

William glanced at Beth.

‘The stuffing was quite knocked out of him,’ continued Joshua. ‘It quickly became apparent that he was in no fit mental state
to be king any more. Convinced that he’d be beheaded like his father!’

‘And what of the Prince of Orange?’ asked Beth.

‘He’s made no claim to the throne. There’s been little bloodshed. But the nation hasn’t a king.’ Samuel shrugged. ‘Or a parliament.
Someone
needs to take control.’

‘And what’s the point in supporting King James if he isn’t here? By fleeing, isn’t that tantamount to an abdication?’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Cecily.

‘It means,’ said Samuel kindly, ‘that since King James, the
former
King James, has gone, together with the young Prince of Wales, Princess Mary is heir to the throne again.’

‘And of course, as her husband and in the line of succession in his own right, who knows but if the Prince of Orange will
share the throne with her?’

The twins stayed for the night and prepared to leave in the morning for Nottingham with their saddlebags stuffed with bread,
apples and half a ham.

The family gathered in the frosty courtyard to say goodbye to them.

‘There was something I meant to tell you, Beth,’ said Samuel. ‘I’ve had news of Harry de Montford.’

A shiver, which had nothing to do with the cold weather, passed down Beth’s back.

‘He’s gone. Married a Catholic heiress. Her father couldn’t wait to get her out of the city and to safety.’

‘Safety! With Harry?’

‘They sailed to Virginia last week.’ Joshua gave Beth one of his irrepressible smiles. ‘She’s a shrew with a sharp tongue
by all accounts.

‘Then I have no compunction in hoping she causes him to suffer a lifetime of scoldings!’

The twins waved their hats in the air and galloped away.

Susannah closed her eyes and sighed. ‘I tried my best with them,’ she said, ‘but they clearly owe much to their mother.’

William drew Beth to his side as they walked back into the house. She leaned against him, happy at their new-found closeness
since Bishop Compton had sent for him and he had travelled to Nottingham to bring her safely home.

‘How does it feel to know that your swift and brave action in helping the Princess to escape has changed the destiny of the
nation?’ he asked.

Beth thought for a moment. ‘It might never have happened, of course, if the Princess hadn’t found my note.’ She smiled. ‘I
knew her sweet tooth would lead her to it hidden in the box of sugar plums.’

Further excitement ensued that afternoon when a cart rolled into the courtyard bearing a number of large crates. The carter
was insistent that the consignment was to be given only to Miss Beth Ambrose.

‘This is for you, miss,’ he said, pulling a small packet from his mud-spattered cape.

Curious, Beth turned the packet over in her hand to see a great red seal fastening it.

‘What is it? Who sent it, Beth?’ Cecily jumped up and down in excitement.

Carefully, Beth broke the seal and took out a letter.

Beth drew in her breath sharply and glanced at William before turning back to the letter.

Beth handed the letter to William to read and then tipped out the contents of the packet. A stream of blue ice tumbled into
her palm.

Cecily gasped and Susannah’s eyes widened.

As Beth lifted up the necklace blue fire sparked from the sapphire droplets in the winter sunshine.

Speechless, she turned to her mother.

Taking the necklace, Susannah fastened it around Beth’s slender neck. ‘A perfect match for your beautiful eyes, my dear.’

William caught Beth up into a silent bear hug, his face crumpled with emotion and quite unable to speak. ‘You have saved us
all!’ he whispered at last. He reached out for Susannah’s hand. ‘The Princess is to support us financially in our work at
Merryfields.’

Susannah gasped and fell into William’s arms and her children were delighted and embarrassed when he returned her kisses with
particular attention.

Emmanuel and Joseph carried the crates into the kitchen and the guests and servants crowded around as John and Cecily ripped
open the first one. Cries of delight greeted the discovery of a haunch of venison.

Peg and Sara set to work opening the remaining crates to reveal a baron of beef, a dozen fine capons, a whole Nottinghamshire
ham, a large cask of ale, a smaller one of wine, a great fig pudding and last, but not least, a box of sugar plums for each
member of the household.

‘Oh my! Merryfields will never see another Christmas such as this!’ breathed Peg.

Beth woke early on Christmas morning with her heart as heavy as lead. The excitement of the previous day had waned and she
could no longer escape the fact that Noah would be sure to have married his Hannah by now. She imagined him looking at his
new wife with love in his eyes, or worse, kissing her with a passion that need not be
checked. He was lost to her for ever. Too miserable to cry, she lay staring at the cracks in the ceiling, remembering the
way his mouth turned up at the corners when he was trying not to laugh and how he had rocked her in his arms and kissed her
with such passion when he found her kneeling amongst the ruins of her paintings. Surely the tenderness he had shown her then
had not been false, even if he had afterwards made her false promises? But life had to go on, however painful.

She glanced at Cecily lying beside her, rosy with sleep. Beth stroked the tangled black hair off her brow, thankful that she
was no longer so dreadfully thin and waxy pale but restored to her former looks. Shocked out of her tempestuous ways by her
disastrous entanglement with Harry de Montford, her little sister was beginning to grow up at last. As she recovered, she
had amazed her family by the number of hours she spent amusing the guests and charming them out of the doldrums.

Sighing, Beth rose and dressed in one of the gowns that Princess Anne had given her. Unhappiness had made her thin; she had
to lace the sky blue bodice extra tightly. She clasped the exquisite sapphire necklace around her neck, feeling it cool and
heavy against her throat.

Hesitating only a moment, she pulled back the froth of exquisite lace at her wrist and slipped on Noah’s bracelet. Tears threatened
to engulf her again as she ran her fingers over the clasped hands and she had to breathe deeply until the threat had gone.
She was determined to put on a smile and not spoil Christmas day for the rest of the family.

Downstairs in the kitchen, preparations for the feast were already under way and Beth was cheered by the comforting aroma
of cinnamon and orange peel as the figgy pudding bubbled away on the fire.

Orpheus had stationed himself near the spit, his nose twitching at the mouth-watering scent of roasting venison.

Dr Latymer arrived in time to accompany the family to church where the familiar rituals of hymns and readings soothed Beth’s
wretchedness enough that she was able to greet old friends and neighbours with a smile.

Home again at Merryfields, Dr Latymer and William went to talk in the study, while Cecily disappeared into the garden to collect
greenery to decorate the festive table.

Beth and Susannah folded napkins and set little gifts of lavender-scented hand cream for the ladies, peppermint lozenges for
the menfolk and a box of the Princess’s sugar plums beside every place setting.

John and Old Silas carried in the yule log with a great deal of huffing and puffing, while Peg fussed around them clearing
up the scatterings of earth and twigs that followed in their wake.

At last the festive meal was ready and the guests and family filed into the great hall to take their places.

John linked his arm through Beth’s. ‘I w-w-wonder what Kit is doing today?’ he said. ‘Perhaps he’s having his Christmas dinner
with Noah?’

‘And Hannah,’ said Beth.

John flushed scarlet. ‘I’m sorry, Beth, I didn’t mean to upset you.’

William, Susannah and Dr Latymer took their places just as Clarence Smith, his crown, decorated with a sprig of holly, stood
up to say grace.

‘And may peace be with you all!’ he finished. ‘Let the feasting begin!’

Chairs scraped and lively conversation broke out as the guests and family fell upon the wondrous dishes set out before them.

‘I do hope Poor Joan won’t make herself sick with all those sugar plums,’ whispered Cecily.

Beth smiled a little at the blissful expression on Poor Joan’s face. After everyone had finished their figgy pudding William
stood up and tapped his glass with a knife until the chatter ceased. ‘Shall we
raise our glasses to the Princess of Denmark, who sent us a never-to-be-forgotten Christmas dinner and whose generosity will
always be remembered.’

The babble of voices rose up to the rafters until William tapped his knife on the glass again. ‘And now I have an announcement
to make.’ He turned to face Dr Latymer. ‘Dr Latymer has become known to you all over the past weeks and in the New Year he
will be taking up residence here at Merryfields to assist me in my work.’

A rousing cheer went up from the guests.

Then Old Silas took out his fiddle and Joseph joined in with his penny whistle.