The night was dark on which they set forth, and they tracked many weary miles through country roads, making slow progress, but meeting, with no hindrance, till towards dawn, they halted at a large mansion near Chelmsford belonging to a Roman Catholic gentleman, where they halted and remained during the day—the coffin being removed from the hearse, and placed in a small private chapel, where tapers were lighted, and masses said as at Dagenham.
Here the day was passed.
On the second night, they proceeded to Cambridge—and on the third to a mansion near Saint Ives, in Huntingdonshire.
Thence they moved on to Peterborough.
In this manner they pursued the road towards Newcastle, journeying entirely by night, and halting during the day at some Roman Catholic mansion, where hospitality was afforded them, and where religious rites could be performed.
It was a long, long journey. But the countess did not find it wearisome. Rather she grieved to think it must soon be ended.
She derived great solace from the affectionate companionship of Dorothy Forster.
Seven nights had thus been passed in travel, and they were proceeding on the eighth night from Thirsk towards Darlington, when a horseman rode up to the carriage.
At first his appearance caused alarm, but fear quickly gave way to surprise when they found it was Charles Radclyffe. They knew he had escaped from prison, but supposed he was in France.
He entered into no explanation then, but contented himself with saying that he should accompany them to Dilston, and rode on with Newbiggin.