Roger Willoughby: A Story of the Times of Benbow

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“Indeed, he is anxious to save you, I am sure of it, else he would not have had you placed in this room,” said Alice, “though he wisely would not commit himself further. He knew that I brought you your clothing, and he would willingly run any risk for the sake of saving you from the clutches of Judge Jeffreys, who is expected every day at Dorchester to commence the assize, and all who know him say that it will be a fearful one.”

“I must endure whatever I am called on to suffer,” answered Stephen. “The Colonel and our father will be made responsible were Andrew and I to escape. Were you to be suspected of assisting us, they would not even spare you, Alice.”

“But were I betrothed to you I would urge that as my plea,” said Alice, in a trembling voice. “I know what were your intentions, and if you will even now ask me to marry you, I will consent, and I shall then have a right to plead that I acted according to the dictates of duty, or should you not after all escape, I should be able to exert myself as I best can to obtain your pardon.”

A fearful struggle took place in Stephen’s heart. He had long loved the girl who pleaded with him, and that love prompted him to endeavour to save her from dangers to which she might be exposed; but hope triumphed. Without further hesitation he pledged his troth to her; still he could not bring himself to desert his companions and to compromise the Colonel and his family, which he knew he should do were he and his brother to make their escape from the house. Andrew had been sleeping soundly all this time. He awoke him and told him of the arrangements that had been made to enable them once more to get free from the clutches of their foes. Two spare horses, Alice told them, would be in waiting outside the grounds at midnight, with a guide to conduct them northward. They would be many miles away before their flight would be discovered. By remaining concealed during the following day they might, by riding all night, get beyond the counties where the rebellion had existed. Andrew, according to his custom, considered the matter calmly over.

“I agree with you, Stephen,” he said; “we must not attempt it.” And he used the same arguments which his brother had already done. “Let us remain and brave the consequences; we are deeply grateful to Mrs Tufnell.”

Both spoke so lightly that Alice, though she bitterly mourned their decision, was won over to agree that the course to be pursued was the right one. That they would have succeeded was doubtful, and before she left the room the sound of the sergeant’s voice as he roused up his men to change the guard reached their ears, and she had barely time to escape from the room when the heavy tread of the soldiers’ feet was heard coming along the passage. The guard at the door started up, not so completely overcome as might have been expected. The sergeant looked into the room, to find both his prisoners sleeping apparently in their beds; he then went to the other room, where he found all secure, but his suspicions must have been aroused from some cause or other, for he placed a double guard at the door, and retired highly satisfied with his own vigilance. Poor Alice went back to her room to weep, agitated by various emotions. Though disappointed that Stephen had not escaped at once, she felt that, now she was betrothed to him, she had a right to exert herself in his favour. She determined bravely to do so at all costs. She wished that Roger had been at home, as he would be able to assist her in whatever she might undertake; but there was not the slightest chance, she feared, of his returning for some time to come.

Next morning the family at the manor-house were early on foot. The sergeant was evidently so well satisfied with the way he and his companions had been treated, that he had no wish to move forward. For the sake of the young Battiscombes, the Colonel was not in a great hurry to get rid of them, as he otherwise would have been. In order to have an excuse for remaining longer, the sergeant sent off one of his men to Lyme to learn whether he was to take his prisoners to that place, or to convey them to Dorchester, where, as the assize was soon to commence, they would have a speedy trial. Alice was in hopes that they would be detained another night, and Stephen and Andrew might then be persuaded to make their escape. Having dressed herself as much as possible like a waiting-maid, she took the opportunity of visiting them during the dinner-hour, under the pretence of carrying in their food. Stephen, to her disappointment, was firm as before; the same reasons weighed with him. It grieved him to say so, but he was sure that he was acting rightly. She had not long left the room when Mr Willoughby returned. He looked fatigued and out of spirits as he passed along the passage to the Colonel’s private room, for it could not be justly called a study. Some time passed, when Madam Pauline, who was eager to hear what had happened, went in, accompanied by Alice. Mr Willoughby, who in the meantime had had a long conversation with the Colonel, now told Madam Pauline his first visit was to the abode of Farmer Stubbs, which to his dismay he found empty. Mrs Stubbs had gone no one could tell whither, possibly carried off by the soldiers in revenge for the escape of Stephen and Andrew, although he was not aware of that at the time. The farm itself had not been pillaged, except of portable provisions. This was probably owing to its distance from the camp, or it would have fared but ill. Unable to hear what had become of his young friends, Mr Willoughby had gone on to Bridgewater, and had run a great risk of being seized as a suspected adherent of the Duke of Monmouth, and it was only by asserting that he was brother-in-law to Colonel Tregellen, a well-known Royalist, that he had escaped. He had done his most to gain information of his young friends, of course in vain. It would have been folly to try and get access to any of the leaders for the purpose of purchasing their pardon till he could learn where they were. He said that he was sick at heart at the sight of the heads of the hapless rebels which were seen at the entrance of every village, while gibbets in great numbers lined the roads in the neighbourhood of Bridgewater. Mr Willoughby had several narrow escapes, when he encountered an old acquaintance, who was no other than Cornet Bryce. He had to look at him hard, for he little expected to see him in military guise. The Cornet looked much cast down. Mr Willoughby learned from him the cause of his depression, the escape, namely, of two prisoners. He fully expected to be placed under arrest and severely punished, should it be discovered by the General that they had got off. Mr Willoughby was not long in ascertaining that the two missing prisoners were the sons of his friend. He kept his counsel as to his object in coming to Bridgewater, and returned home as soon as he could. Alice was glad to see him arrive, as she thought he might possibly try to induce Stephen and Andrew to escape. He saw clearly the danger to which the Colonel would be exposed, and declined in any way committing himself, though he promised, should they be delivered over to the officers of the law, to use every exertion to obtain their pardon or liberation.

As the sergeant had not ordered the man he sent to Lyme to make any haste, it was late in the day before he returned with orders to carry his prisoners to Dorchester. “I suppose, Colonel, that you do not insist on our setting out this afternoon?” said the sergeant. “It is a long day’s march to Dorchester. We should make it better by starting fresh in the morning.”

The Colonel assured the sergeant that he was welcome to remain. He knew that in the meantime Mr Battiscombe was exerting himself, through certain friends, with those in authority to obtain the pardon of his sons. Every day he gained was of consequence. He also hoped leave might be obtained to enable them to perform the journey on horseback. In the evening he came over to see his two sons. The parting was an affecting one. Though he had been exerting himself to obtain their pardon, he knew too well that his efforts might prove fruitless. He remained that night at the manor-house, that he might be with them as long as possible. When he asked leave of the sergeant to allow his sons to ride on horseback, the request was refused, on the ground that he could not grant them a favour which was denied to the other prisoners, and that as he and his men would have to march on foot, they must be content to proceed in the same manner.

A sad procession set forth from Eversden Manor on the early dawn of a bright autumn morning. Each prisoner was conducted by two guards with loaded muskets. Farewells had been spoken, and the order to march was given.