Hugh Boscawen rejoiced greatly over my dear wife's good fortune, and I have since been given to understand that it was through him Peter Trevisa had uttered no word concerning his secret, and that he was using all his influence with the King in order to persuade him to seek to use means whereby my Nancy might be able to rightfully claim her name and fortune. Concerning this, however, he would never speak to me, although I asked him many times.
Not long after our marriage, however, serious matters disturbed the country, and Hugh Boscawen became much perturbed. Charles the Pretender succeeded in landing in Scotland with a very few followers, and immediately he was joined by a large number of Highlanders. Concerning his fortunes there is of course no need to speak. All the country rang with the news of his victories, and finally of his defeat. Few, however, seem to realize that, had he landed in Cornwall months before, his fortunes might have been different. Some there are who say that there was never a danger of his coming to a part of the country where his chances would have been so poor, and many more say that the army of brave-hearted Cornishmen were gathered together by Boscawen without reason. But what I have set down shows that the man whom the world calls Lord Falmouth, and whom I always love to think of as Hugh Boscawen, although not a great leader of armies, was still wise in his times, and a true lover of his king and country.
Otho Killigrew became a follower of the Pretender in Scotland, and had Charles Stuart been successful in his enterprises, he would doubtless have given Otho as high a place as that which Tom Killigrew occupied at the court of Charles II., perhaps higher, for he was cunning beyond most men; but at the battle of Culloden Moor, which the Duke of Cumberland won, and when the Pretender's forces were utterly routed, Otho was killed. Thus it was that Endellion as well as Restormel came to Nancy, for none of the Killigrews who fled to France dared to come back and claim their old home. It was not of much value to us, however, for both house and lands were mortgaged for all they were worth.
I live at Trevanion still, for, although Restormel is a fine and larger house, it is not home to me, neither is it to Nancy for that matter, and we shall never think of leaving the spot endeared by long association and obtained through the favour of the King. Besides, we could not be as happy anywhere else. All the servants know us and love us, and old Daniel, although he grows weak and feeble now, thinks no one can serve us as well as he. Amelia Lanteglos, or rather Amelia Daddo, is no longer maid to Nancy, for she hath married her one-time lover, who now hath a farm on the Trevanion estate; but Jennifer Lanteglos is with us, and no more faithful servant can be found anywhere.
Our eldest son, Roger Molesworth, is true to the name he bears, for he hath inherited all his mother's beauty, and looks forward to the time when he will inherit Restormel and live on the estate; but our second son, Benet, cares for none of these things. He is big and daring and strong like the man after whom he is named, and cares for nothing so much as the wild free life of the country. I tell Nancy that he resembles Benet in many ways, and she, with the mother's love shining from her eyes, says that he possesses all Benet Killigrew's virtues but none of his vices.
I have but little to tell now, and that little shall be told quickly.
About a year after the final defeat of the Pretender, and when the country had settled down into peace, Jennifer Lanteglos came into the room where my Nancy and I sat alone together, save for the presence of Molesworth, who crowed mightily as he lay in his cradle.
"Please, sur, an old man is at the door asking if he may come in and tell tales."
"Let him come in, Jennifer," I said.