In the midst of all these real trials, she discusses with great interest a point of Court etiquette: the mighty question of the tabouret; and it is with as intense gratification that the Countess hears finally that the tabouret has been accorded to her niece on her marriage, as it had once been given to herself.

Another domestic incident of a disagreeable nature took place about this time, in the marriage of the heir of the Stanleys, Edward Lord Strange, with a Mademoiselle de Rupa, a German lady of neither position nor fortune. His parents never forgave this offence, and, to crown all, Lord Strange entertained some dreams of compounding with Parliament, fearing that hope for the Royalists was utterly gone, and that they would all be left at last to starve.

Truly trouble was heavy on the friends of the murdered King’s son, who was now wandering in Scotland, after the execution of Montrose. Bradshaw’s hatred against the Earl of Derby was intense, and, with the ingenuity bred of spite and cruelty, he attacked him in the part most sensitive in such a man, through his children. For two years the two daughters, Catherine and Amelia, had been left in peace at Knowsley. “Now,” writes Lady Derby, 8th June 1650, “one Birch, governor of a little town called Liverpool, has taken them prisoners, and carried them there, where they are under guard.”

The Countess attributes this treatment to the pressure Parliament intends putting upon the Earl. “That is all, dear sister, which I can tell you of this pitiable story,” she concludes. “I pray God to protect them, and do not fear that He will do so. It is said that they endure bravely. I am less troubled for the elder, but my child Amelia is delicate and timid, and was under treatment from M. de Mayerne

“But these barbarians think of nothing but pursuing their damnable plans; one might think that if all the demons of hell had devised them, they could not have been worse.”

The sufferings of these two innocent girls increased. They had not bread enough to eat, and must have starved but for the charity of the poor Royalists and the fidelity of their attendants, who went begging for them from house to house. They complained at last to Fairfax, who wrote thereupon to the Earl: “If his lordship would place the Isle of Man at Parliament’s good pleasure, his children should be liberated, and enjoy half of his revenues.” The Earl replied that he was deeply afflicted at the sufferings of his children. It was not the custom of noble minds to punish innocent children for their parents’ faults. He begged Sir Thomas Fairfax to give them back to him, or to let them pass free to France or to Holland; but if this were not possible, they must trust in the mercy of the Most High, for he could never deliver them by an act of treachery.

The contest between King and Parliament, or, more truly, between King and Cromwell, was raging in Scotland. Of that country Charles II. was now crowned King. He should be crowned King of England too, while a Royalist lived. That was the Royalist determination, and Cromwell’s sudden illness favoured hope, in addition to the prevailing disaffection in the opposite camp; for betwixt Covenanter and Presbyterian and Independent, and all the myriad political and religious sectaries, little love was lost. Cromwell, however, recovered, and attacked Perth. Charles announced his intention of going to England. The Duke of Argyle sought to dissuade him from this, and withdrew his aid. Cromwell followed the King to Carlisle in pursuit. Charles immediately summoned Lord Derby, and the Countess writes, 1st September 1651:—

“We are still here (Isle of Man), by the goodness of God, who has safely guided my husband to the King his sovereign.... I learn that the King has received him with great joy and proofs of affection, and I await special details with impatience; though I fear they cannot reach me quickly, because of the vessels of the enemy, which are all round our shores.”

Charles informed Lord Derby, in a letter in his own hand, that the Presbyterians of Lancashire were ready to join under his leadership. This Lord Derby found to be true only cum grano salis, and that no small grain. He had brought with him three hundred gentlemen, for the most part Roman Catholics, from the Isle of Man; these, the Covenanting partisans of the King insisted, were to be sent back again, before they joined issue in the struggle. This equally Lord Derby refused. He demanded for these gentlemen the same latitude and liberty the Lancashire Presbyterians required for themselves; and if they could not accord it, though he despaired of success without their aid, he had no voice but to dispense with it; and, mounting his horse, the Earl rode away with his little band of Royalists to encounter Colonel Robert Liburne, close by Wigan, a town which had always remained true to the Royal cause. A hand-to-hand struggle ensued. Two horses were killed beneath the Earl, and were replaced at the peril of his own life by a faithful French servant. Finally, in the confusion Lord Derby escaped into the town, finding refuge in a poor woman’s cottage. She drew the door bolts, and maintained such a stout defence of her little domain, that the Earl had time to escape by the back of the house, and rejoined his friends; but he was fearfully wounded, and scarcely able to sit his horse for weakness.

As soon as he could stir, he made his way in disguise to Worcester, where the King’s forces were mustered, and on 3rd September 1651, in the battle of Worcester, which ended in the routing of the Royalists, Lord Derby, with Lord Cleveland and Colonel Wogan, protected their royal master, when all was over, through the enemy’s ranks with their own swords and bodies, and then conducted him to Whiteladies, safe with the loyal Giffards and Pendrells. Thence, followed by some of his friends, he found his way to the coast, and escaped to France.