“Then we must leave here without delay.”
“That would be unsafe. Essex’s army is even now firmly entrenched about us.”
“Can he really be such a brute? Does he not know that I have not yet risen from child-bed?”
“He knows well and doubtless thinks it is a good time to force his will on you.”
“Bring me pen and paper. I will write to him asking for safe conduct. If he has any compassion at all he will give it.”
Henry obeyed and I wrote a letter to the Earl of Essex asking him to allow me to go unmolested to Bath or Bristol—a favor I greatly resented having to ask.
When his reply came back I was furious. The request was denied. I should have known better than to make it. Essex, however, stated that it was his intention to escort me to London where my presence was required to answer to Parliament for having levied war in England.
That was tantamount to a threat. I knew then that I had to get away before they captured me.
How could I travel with an infant only a few days old? I was distraught. I did not know which way to turn. I believed that the fiendish Essex had contrived this because his main object was to capture me. How I loathed and despised the man. He should have been with us. He had turned against his own upbringing and his own people. I could more readily forgive that traitor Oliver Cromwell, whose name was being mentioned more and more and who seemed to be responsible for the greater success which the Roundheads were having now. Yes, I could forgive him. He was a man of the people—but when men like Essex turned against their own, that was unforgivable.
But it was no use wasting time in expressing my fury against Essex. I had to think how I was going to escape, for escape I must. If they captured me and took me to London it would be the ultimate disaster. Charles would promise anything to free me.
I had to escape, and as I could not take my newborn daughter with me, I must, perforce, leave her behind.
I sent for Sir John Berkeley, who was the Governor of the city of Exeter and a tenant of Bedford House where I was living. I already had Lady Dalkeith with me, a woman of great integrity who, Charles and I had agreed, must be the one to look after our daughter. In this we proved right. I shall never forget what I owe to that woman.
Briefly I explained that for the King’s cause I had no alternative but to escape. The Roundheads were almost at our gates and their object was to capture me and take me to London, there to accuse me of treachery to the crown.
“This as you know would be such a blow to the King that he would do anything to save me, jeopardizing his own throne and losing it if need be. There is only one course open to me. I know you understand that.”
Sir John said he did indeed and would do anything I asked of him. Lady Dalkeith joined her loyal expressions to his and told me that she would defend my child with her life if need be.
I took her into my arms and we wept together. Sir John raised my hand to his lips and kissed it.
So fifteen days after the birth of my little Henriette I left her, desolate and heartbroken as I was, for I knew it was the only course to take.
I waited until night fell and then dressed as a servant and, with only two of my attendants and a confessor, I escaped from Bedford House.
We had arranged that others of my household who were determined to accompany us should leave the house at various times in disguises so that they should not be recognized. My faithful dwarf, Geoffrey Hudson, who had stepped out of a pie to comfort me in no small degree, had begged to be of the party and I could not refuse him. He knew of a wood near Plymouth in which there was an old hut, and he suggested that we should make this our meeting place and all make our way to it by different routes.
When dawn came we were only three miles from Exeter and it was clearly too dangerous to walk about in daylight, for there were so many soldiers about. We found a hut. It was tumbledown and filled with straw and litter and we hastened to take refuge in this when we heard the sound of horses’ hoofs. It was fortunate that we did for the horses belonged to a group of Roundhead soldiers who were on their way to join the forces who were gathering on the outskirts of Exeter.
Our dismay was great when we realized that the soldiers were coming straight to the hut and we were thankful for the litter underneath which we were able to hide ourselves.
When I heard the soldiers right outside, my heart seemed as if it would suffocate me and I had rarely been so frightened as when I heard the door creak. We all held our breath as a soldier stepped inside the hut and kicked some of the rubbish aside.
I prayed—something incoherent and silent—and on that occasion my prayers were answered for I heard the man shout: “Nothing in here but a load of rubbish.” Then the door creaked again and the soldier was no longer inside the hut.
We waited breathlessly, listening. The man must have been leaning against the wall of the hut. He was talking to another.
He said: “There is a reward of fifty thousand crowns for her head.”
I knew they were talking of mine.
“I’d like to be the one to carry that to London.”
“Who wouldn’t? Fifty thousand crowns, eh? A goodly sum and ridding the country of the Papist whore at the same time.”
It was difficult to curb my anger. I wanted to go out to them, to denounce them for the traitors they were. Traitors, liars, defamers of virtue and my religion. I restrained myself, thinking of Charles. I would endure anything for him, discomfort, insults, pain, hardship…anything for Charles.
It was some time before they passed on, but we did not emerge from the hut until darkness fell; then we sped on our way. We were fortunate after that and reached our rendezvous in the woodland cabin in safety. There I was rejoined by many of my faithful friends including Geoffrey Hudson, who had brought Mitte and another of my dogs with him, for he was certain that I should be unhappy without them.
How the good friends made up for the treacherous ones!
At Pendennis Castle Henry Jermyn was waiting for me with a suitable guard and when he saw how ill I was he immediately gave orders that I was to be carried on a litter for the rest of the journey to Falmouth. How thankful I was for his thoughtfulness! And what a relief it was to see a fleet of friendly Dutch vessels in the bay.
Before I went on board I wrote to Charles explaining why I had left the child behind. It was for his sake for if I had been captured by our enemies, as I was sure I should have been had I remained in Exeter, that would have been a great blow to our cause.
“I am hazarding my life that I may not incommode your affairs. Adieu, dear Heart. If I die believe that you will lose a person who has never been other than entirely yours and who, by her affection, has deserved that you should not forget her.”
I stood on deck, exhausted almost beyond endurance, but determined to remain there until I could no longer see the land where he was…as desolate and unhappy by this parting as I was.
MURDER IN WHITEHALL
Once again the sea proved that it was always my enemy. No sooner had I returned to my cabin for a much needed rest than I heard cries of alarm and Henry Jermyn came dashing in looking distraught.
“Pray don’t be alarmed,” he said, “but we have sighted three ships which are obviously pursuing us.”
“Enemies?” I asked.
“I fear so,” replied Henry. “I should stay here. We are equipped to fight them.”
“If we stop to fight we shall never escape,” I cried. “We must be free of English waters as soon as possible.”
“If we do not fight they could take us.”
“They shall not take me,” I cried vehemently. “I will die first. To take me would be disaster to the King’s cause…far greater than my death would be.”