Philippa Carr: The love child

“God help us!” cried Leigh. “It is this monster, Titus Oates.”

“What are we going to do?” asked Christabel.

“We’ve got to help him of course,” replied Leigh.

“How?” asked Edwin.

“Give him food for one thing and find him a hiding place for another.”

“You can’t keep him hidden long in the shrubbery,” I pointed out.

“No,” replied Edwin, “but this madness is going to be over sooner or later. Oates is beginning to show up in his true colours. People will turn against him in time, I’m sure of it.”

“It could be a year … two years,” said Christabel.

“Nevertheless,” said Leigh, who had always been the man of action, “the first thing to do is to get him to a place of safety.”

“There is the secret compartment in the library where my father hid our treasures during the war and saved them from the Roundheads,” I said.

Edwin was thoughtful. “If he were discovered that would bring the family into it.”

“My father hates the Papists,” I said.

“There you have it,” replied Edwin. “The country is being divided. That is what happens when there is an affair like this. Before Oates reared his ugly head people did not greatly care how others worshiped. It is because of this anxiety about the succession and rumours about the King’s brother’s religion …”

“I know, I know,” interrupted Leigh impatiently, “but in the meantime we have to do something about Jocelyn Frinton. If he is caught it will be the end of him. Where can we put him?”

“We shall have to be careful,” I cautioned. “We have a fanatic in Jasper. He would soon discover him if he remained in the shrubbery and there is no doubt what his reaction would be. He thinks Catholics are agents of the devil and talks often of the Whore of Babylon. He is a bigoted old man and a dangerous one.”

“Then it can’t be the garden and it can’t be the house,” said Leigh.

“I know a place!” I cried. “It would do for a while anyway. Your father was there, Edwin, when he came to England during the Commonwealth. I remember my mother’s showing it to me. She came with your father. It was just before he was murdered.”

“All right. All right,” said Leigh. “Where is this place?”

“It’s White Cliff Cave on a lonely part of the shore. Few people ever go there. It would be a good hiding place.”

“It’s the best suggestion so far,” said Leigh approvingly. “Now we have to get to work quickly.”

He was silent suddenly, putting his finger to his lips. He was clearly listening. Then he went quietly to the door and opened it suddenly. Carl almost fell into the room.

He grinned at us. “There’s a beef pie in the larder,” he said. “I’ll get a great hunk of that for him. And some ale, too. I’ll take it from the back and they won’t know it’s gone.”

We were all astounded and realized how careless we had been. It might have been one of the servants—perhaps Jasper—instead of Carl.

Leigh gave him an affectionate push.

“Do you know what happens to people who listen at doors?” he asked.

“Yes,” retorted Carl, “they come in and join in the fun.”

It was not difficult to get Jocelyn Frinton to the cave. Leigh and Edwin rode off with him that night after the household was asleep. If it was discovered that they had been out, the servants would shrug their shoulders and would believe that they had been in pursuit of those adventures which were characteristic of men in a lax society. Jasper would shake his head and prophesy hell fire, but no one else would take much notice.

Carl had been useful prowling round the kitchen; he was known to have a voracious appetite and if he were caught making off with food no one would have been very surprised. Christabel and I gathered up some blankets which they had taken with them.

A seriousness had settled on us all, for we knew—even Carl—that this was an adventure which could result in death.

It was midnight when Edwin and Leigh returned, for it was about three miles to White Cliff Cave. Christabel and I were waiting up and had been watching from my bedroom window. We had prevailed on Carl to go to bed, promising him that when Edwin and Leigh came up, we would let him know if he were still awake.

“Of course I’ll be awake,” he said; but I had looked in on him at about eleven o’clock and he was fast asleep.

He was very excited about the adventure and could be useful, but I would rather he had not been concerned in it.

“My father, who is quite tolerant about some matters, is fiercely against Catholics,” I told Christabel. “He dislikes the Duke of York. More than that he feels it would be a disaster if he ever came to the throne. He says the people won’t allow it and there’ll be a revolution. He is all for putting Monmouth up as the heir.”

“What would he have done if he had found Jocelyn Frinton in the grounds?”

“I don’t know. He knew his father and he must have been aware that they were a Catholic family. But a little while ago no one thought very much about that. It is only since Titus Oates came along with his Popish Plot that people started to worry. I know that if there was a conflict my father would be on the side of Monmouth rather than that of the King’s brother. But that’s politics. I know religion comes into it, but my father is not a religious man.”

“No,” said Christabel, “that seems to be clear at any rate.”

“I don’t know whether he would give him up, but I don’t think he would help him or want us to. What Edwin does is his own affair because Edwin is a man and my father is not his father. What my mother would think I don’t know. She would be alarmed because we might be putting ourselves in danger. But there’s Carl, you see. My father dotes on Carl and Carl has insisted on becoming involved.”

“He enjoys it. It’s a wonderful adventure to him and I notice that he likes to be in everything.”

“I should imagine my father must have been just like that when he was young.”

“You could be sure of that.” There was a touch of asperity in her voice, reminding me of the Christabel I had known before the coming of Edwin and Leigh, which had worked such a subtle change in her.

“Listen,” I said, “they’ve come back, I think.”

I was right. We stood tense at the window, and in a short time we saw Leigh and Edwin come into the house. We waylaid them and they came into my bedroom.

“All is well,” whispered Leigh. “A very good spot. Full marks, Priscilla, for thinking of it.”

I glowed with pleasure.

“He has food for tomorrow and he’ll be all right provided no one decides to picnic there.”

“Picnic in November in that bleak spot!”

“Bleak’s the word,” said Edwin. “But the blankets will keep him warm.”

“How long can he stay there?” asked Christabel.

“Not indefinitely, of course,” replied Edwin. “We’ll have to try and think of something before the winter gets really cold.”

“He’d freeze,” I said.

“Priscilla is worried about Carl’s being involved,” Christabel told them.

“Yes, so am I,” said Edwin.

“He’s a good fellow,” added Leigh. “It would be his extra exuberance which might give it away.”

“I’ll speak to him in the morning,” said Edwin. “Where is he now? In bed, I suppose.”

“Fast asleep. He wanted to stay awake to see how it went but I told him he should go to bed as normal. He did and was soon asleep.”

“We ought to try to get Frinton away somewhere before your father returns,” said Edwin to me.

I agreed with that.

Leigh said: “Well, it is late. We mustn’t stop chattering here. Who knows, we might be spied on. I don’t think anyone saw us, but we must all understand that this is no game and it’s no use treating it as such. It’s deadly serious. It could mean death for that young man and serious trouble for us. So … take care. Act as normal. We’ve done all we can for tonight. He’s safe temporarily. Tomorrow we’ll get some more food to him. We’ll ride out as usual … but we must take care.”