Voices in a Haunted Room

I turned away.

“I am going out,” he said. “Come with me.”

“I have so much to do here.”

“Nonsense. One of the servants can do it. Do you remember that lovely day we had in London? The time of the royal wedding?”

“It is not very long ago.”

“And they say our Princess is fruitful. I am glad for the Prince’s sake. Poor fellow.

It was hard on him to have to do his duty.”

“I think he is able to take care of himself.”

“Like the rest of us he needs the solace of congenial feminine cornpany. Listen to me, Claudine, I want to go out ... just to mingle with the crowd and watch. Come with me.”

“Is it people like Leon Blanchard and Alberic you are looking for?”

He came closer to me and looked at me intently. “You’re caught up in this, Claudine,”

he said. “I’d rather you weren’t, but you are. From the moment you saw Alberic and recognized the man he was meeting, you became involved.”

“Yes, I see that.”

“It will be easier for me if I am escorting a lady. I want to look like an ordinary sightseer-looking at the guys which are being paraded through the streets. I want to see what is going on. You can help me, Claudine.” An excitement was gripping me. I told myself it was because of the nature of the exercise rather than because I should be with him.

“Oh come on,” he said. “You are not doing anything important, are you? No business with your husband. A little jaunt can do no harm and I’ll be perfectly harmless on the streets, won’t I? What tricks could I get up to there?”

“I’ll come,” I said.

“Brave lady!” he said ironically. “Go and get your cloak. I’ll be here. I shall just slip up and tell Millicent that I have to go out.”

“Tell her that I shall be with you,” I said.

He smiled at me slyly and said nothing.

There was excitement in the streets of London-and not only because I was with Jonathan.

“The best time is at night,” he said, “when the bonfires are lighted. We must come out tonight.”

“Do you think the others would want to?”

“David ... perhaps ... Millicent ... perhaps too. It would be more fun if you and I were alone.”

I said: “Look at that extraordinary guy. What is it supposed to be?”

“I could not begin to guess. Perhaps just Master Fawkes himself.”

Six ragged little boys carried the straw-packed figure, singing as they went: Guy, guy, guy, stick him up in high, Hang him on the lamp post and there let him die.

Jonathan slipped a coin into their proffered hands which set them grinning with delight.

“Who is your guy?” he asked.

“It’s the Pope, mister,” said the tallest of the urchins. “How stupid of me not to recognize him,” replied Jonathan lightly. “The likeness is remarkable.”

The boys gaped at him and we passed on, laughing.

“Most of them don’t know what it’s about,” said Jonathan. “Something to do with Catholics, that’s all. Let’s hope they don’t start insulting people of that faith. It can happen when they get rowdy later on.”

We saw many guys-grotesque figures made of straw and old rags which would burn well on the bonfires which would be lighted that evening.

The words were chanted through the streets and I found myself singing with them.

Remember, remember, the fifth of November, Gunpowder treason and plot.

We see no reason, the gunpowder treason Should ever be forgot Jonathan took me where I might see the parade of the butchers who came from all the markets to join in the procession, clapping marrow bones together.

A stick and a stake for King George’s sake A stick and a stump for Guy Fawkes’ rump Holler boys, holler boys, make the bells ring. Holler boys, holler boys, God save the King.

I watched with amusement and I said: “How different from the mob at the opening of Parliament”

“The mob is here already,” he answered seriously. “It’s ready to emerge at the appropriate moment. On occasions like this it is lurking.”

“And you are watchful.”

He said: “We should all be watchful. The King was very lucky the other day. Shall we go to a coffee house? Would you like coffee or chocolate? We’ll hear some amusing talk, I daresay. We might learn something. I know of a good one close to the river. Jimmy Borrows’ Riverside Inn. You can watch the boats from the windows while you drink.”

“I should like that,” I told him.

He took my arm and I could not help it if I was happy, as I had been on that other occasion when we were out together.

It was a short step to the river. Jimmy Borrows evidently knew Jonathan.

He gave him a wink and nod as we entered and after I was seated Jonathan went over to him to have a word. They were in earnest conversation for some moments.

I knew enough now to understand that the tavern men were supplying information to Jonathan. I was beginning to learn a little about this secret business. Men like Jonathan and his father had contacts everywhere. It was for this reason that Dickon had been able to find the help he needed when he brought my mother safely out of France against such tremendous odds.

Jonathan returned to me, and hot chocolate was brought to us.