The Forest - Edward Rutherfurd [209]
‘Whom are we going to see?’ Thomas asked.
‘Alice Lisle.’
‘At least she can see us,’ his mother declared as the old carriage rolled across the Forest. She had learned that Alice Lisle was at Albion House, so they had spent a night at Hale before setting off again at dawn. ‘She may have married Lisle, but she’s still an Albion. We used to know them,’ she had remarked plaintively.
By late morning they were at Lyndhurst and by noon they had passed Brockenhurst and were crossing the little ford from which the track led down towards the house in the woods.
As he looked at his two younger brothers and three sisters, Thomas thought of the conversation he had had with his mother the night before. ‘I think Mrs Lisle hates us, Mother,’ he had suggested.
‘Perhaps, but she’s a woman with children too,’ his mother had replied in her simple way. And then, with a sudden vexation he had seldom seen before: ‘Oh, these men! I don’t know. I really don’t.’
So they rolled in through the gateway to Albion House and the surprised servants told their mistress who was there; and after a short pause Alice Lisle gave orders that they might come in. They were escorted into the parlour.
Alice Lisle was dressed in black, with a plain white apron, a big linen collar and cuffs. Her reddish hair was tucked into a linen cap. She looked every inch a Puritan. Mrs Penruddock had dressed as simply as she could, although her lace collar showed plainly enough that she was the wife of a cavalier. What’s the use of pretending, she had thought?
Alice Lisle looked at Mrs Penruddock and her children. She was standing herself and she did not suggest they sit down. She had understood, of course, at once. The Penruddock woman had come to plead and was using her children. She didn’t blame her. She supposed she’d have done the same. She saw the other woman look round for her own children but she had already had them swiftly taken to another part of the house. She didn’t want the children to meet because it might suggest an intimacy that was impossible. She stood stiffly. She dared not show any weakness. ‘My husband is in London and will not return this month, I think,’ she said.
‘It was you I came to see.’ Mrs Penruddock had not prepared a speech because she didn’t really know how. ‘I remember your father very well. My grandfather and old Clement Albion were friends, you know,’ she blurted out.
‘That may be.’
‘Do you know what they’re doing to my husband? They’ve accused him of treason!’ Her voice went up at this last as though it were something outrageous.
Dear God, Alice could have cried out, if you put yourself at the head of four hundred men, capture the sheriff and declare war on the government, what do you expect? But she understood. She looked at the children, saw the eldest boy watching her intently, wanted to look at him with pity, but knew she must not. Instead, she looked stern. ‘What do you want with me?’ she asked.
‘It can’t be right’, the other said, indicating the six children, ‘to leave these without a father, whatever he did. I mean, it was he who stopped Wagstaff harming those men in Salisbury. He never hurt anyone. And if the Protector lets him live, I know he’d give him his word never to take up arms again, or even have any dealings with the king at all.’
‘Are you saying you wish me to write all this to my husband? You think he can persuade the Protector?’
‘Yes.’ A light of hope appeared in Mrs Penruddock’s face. ‘Would you do that?’
Alice stared at her. She could see the hope dawning and she knew she must crush it. She could not add to this family’s misery by awakening false optimism that would only be dashed. Her gaze fell upon Thomas again. The boy looked more sensible than his mother, she thought. ‘Mrs Penruddock.’ Putting on her sternest frown she addressed herself partly to the boy as well. ‘I must tell you that there is