Georgette Heyer by Royal Escape Page B

When he collapsed, saying that he cared nothing for his fate if only he might lie still, Richard coaxed him to his feet with assurances that they had only a few hundred yards still to cover: when he commanded Richard to leave him, Richard rated him for folly, and laughed to scorn his despair of ever making his way to France. The preservation of the King's person was to Richard a matter of such para mount importance that he was unable to comprehend the crushing sense of defeat which made Charles think himself better dead than wearing out his life in exile. Dimly he could perceive that a deeper agony than the pain of lacerated feet had the King in its grip: but since he could not comfort a grief he did not understand, all that was left for him to do was to care for the King's body.
      It was midnight when at last they reached Madeley, and came in sight of Mr Wolfe's house, an old mansion standing beside the road through the town, and surrounded on three sides by fields, and great timber barns.
      The King, who had limped the last mile in silence, roused himself upon Richard's informing him that they had reached their goal, and bade Richard leave him in the field where they now stood, and go on alone to the house. Richard looked rather doubtfully at him, but Charles sat down in the lee of a hedge, saying wearily: 'You must discover first whether he is willing to receive so dangerous a guest in his house. Ask him if he will give shelter to a distressed Cavalier, a fugitive from Worcester. I will await you here.'
      It seemed incredible to Richard that any loyal Englishman could be unwilling to shelter his King, but he had discovered by this time that there was a streak of obstinacy in Charles, so he did not argue the matter, but went off obediently to rouse the house hold.
      All was in darkness, but the door was opened pres ently, in answer to his repeated knocking, by a thin woman with a cap tied under her chin, and a shawl huddled over her night-gown. She looked frightened, and her weak, kind eyes started at Richard in the light of the guttering candle she held in her hand.
      He asked her respectfully to rouse Mr Wolfe, and to inform him that an honest servant of the King was wishful to see him.
      The candle shook in her hold. She said in a whisper: 'I am his daughter. Oh, do you bring news of my brother?'
      'Nay, I know naught of him, mistress. I mun see Mr Wolfe.'
      She said rather helplessly: 'He is abed.'
      'I mun see him,' Richard repeated.
      She let him come into the house, and softly closed the door behind him. 'I will rouse him. It is not ill news?'
      'Nay.'
      'Stay here,' she told him, and went away up the stairs like a troubled ghost.
      In a few minutes, Richard saw a wavering light approaching down the stairs. An old gentleman with silvered locks came down, and held his candle up the better to scrutinize Richard.
      'Who are you, fellow?' he demanded in a shrill whisper. 'I don't know you. Why do you come to this house at such an hour?'
      'I be wishful to know whether your honour will give shelter to a distressed Cavalier,' replied Richard, painstakingly reciting his lesson. 'It's a gentleman as is escaping from Worcester fight,' he added.
      Mr Wolfe gave a start that sent some of the wax from his candle spilling on to the floor. 'No!' he said sharply. 'Do you not know that I have a son even now clapped up in Shrewsbury prison? Take him to some other house!'
      'There bain't no other house, master,' said Richard stolidly.
      'It's nothing to me! It's too dangerous a matter to harbour anybody that's known. I'll venture my neck for no one unless it be the King himself!'
      Richard looked at him, a bovine expression in his eyes, but with his brain slowly working behind them. 'Well, it is the King,' he said at last.
      For a moment Wolfe stared at him, then he said: 'You lie, fellow!'
      Richard shook his head.
      Wolfe clutched at the baluster with one thin hand.