The Song of the Siren

“We could hardly go there.”

“I have a plan. Leave it to me.”

The men joined us for breakfast in the inn parlour, and as we were partaking of hot bread and bacon, Harriet said: “I have a friend who lives nearby. I should so like to see her.”

“Could you not do so?” asked Gregory, always ready to indulge her.

“It seems odd to call after so many years without warning her. I could find her place.

I visited it long ago, I remember, when she married. But I should like to look her up ... and surprise her.”

Gregory said: “Let us look in then. It is far out of our way?”

Harriet said it would be a good idea. Then it occurred to her that perhaps it would not be fair for us all to descend upon her. Why should she and I not go alone? We could take one of the grooms with us if they were going to protest, and she knew they would.

“Let us spend another night at the Black Boar. And Carlotta and I can go and do our little visiting. You have always said, Gregory, that you like this countryside. Now is the chance for you to explore it.”

Harriet had a gift for making people believe that what she suggested for them was exactly what they wanted for themselves, and the outcome was that later that morning she and I, with a groom in attendance, were riding out along that road which I had been taken on that memorable night.

The smell of the sea was strong that morning. There was a faint breeze which ruffled the waves and set a frothy frill on them where they rose and fell on the sand.

I saw the roof of the house and I was overcome for a moment by the power of my emotions.

“Perhaps there’s no one there,” I said.

“Let’s go and see.”

We rode down the slight incline to the house.

There was a woman in the garden.

“Good day to you,” she said. She had a basket full of roses. She looked so much at home, and when I thought of arriving at that mysteriously empty house which at the same time showed obvious signs of recent habitation, I marvelled.

She obviously though we had lost our way and were asking for instructions.

“We have come from the Black Boar,” said Harriet.

She smiled. “And you are not sure of the road. Where do you want to go?”

I said: “Could I have a word with you?” She changed colour slightly. “You must come in,” she said.

We tethered our horses by the mounting block and followed her into the hall which I remembered so well.

“I will send for refreshment,” she said. “I am sure you would like to rest awhile before you continue your journey.” A servant appeared from behind the screens and she said, “Bring wine and cakes, Emily. To the winter parlour.”

And so within ten minutes, during which we had made conversation mainly about the weather and the state of the roads, wine was brought with wine cakes. Then the door was firmly shut and she was looking at us expectantly.

“You have brought a message for me?” she said.

Harriet was looking at me and I said: “No, there is no message. I was wondering if you could give me some information. I am a friend of Lord Hessenfield.”

She looked alarmed. “All is not well?” she asked.

“I believe nothing to have gone wrong,” I said.

“What we want to know”-Harriet could not stop coming forward, for what she hated was to play what she called a standby role-“is, did he reach his destination safely?”

“You mean ... when he left here?”

“Yes,” I said. “That is what we mean.”

“But that is weeks ago. They had a rough crossing but made it in safety.”

“And they are now with the King?”

She nodded. “You must tell me who you are,” she said.

“Friends of Lord Hessenfield,” said Harriet firmly, and I could see that we had been accepted as workers in the Jacobite cause.

“I was with them when they brought the General here,” I said. “What we should have done without your house I cannot think.”

“It was a small thing to do,” she said. “We ran no risks. We just went away with the servants for a week. That was all.”

“It was our salvation,” I said. “But we must not stay. I just wanted to meet you.”

She filled up the wine and we drank to the King, which meant James the Second, not William the Third. Then we told her we were going back to the Black Boar.

She walked with us to our horses, and as we rode away Harriet said: “Well done, my little Jacobite. I am sure the good lady thinks there is some significance in our visit. As good Jacobites we should have known that Hessenfield is safe at St. Germain-en-Laye.

The lady was a little puzzled, methinks.”

“You certainly think up the wildest things to do. You’re a lady of intrigue.”

“Well, what was that? Just a little exercise in deception of the mildest kind. I wonder how many Jacobites there are in this country, all waiting for the moment, eh? At least we know Hessenfield and his merry men made it safely. They are now at St. Germain planning fresh moves, I’ll warrant.”

I felt a great relief because he was safe.

Preparing for the birth of a baby was a new and enthralling experience.