We met in the grand drawing room, a strange little group: Mrs Morgan always elegant, Mrs Mills short and preoccupied. Grace stood by the fireplace and Mr Mills, also small and busy, paced the room filling and emptying his pipe. These were my co-conspirators, as yet innocent of the shocking things I would ask them to do.
I spoke to them at last. ‘My dear friends, thank you for being here with me. Without your help over the last two months, I think I would have turned my face to the wall and given up hope. But today, I’m going to ask you to do a most courageous thing for me. It will be the last.’
It was as if everyone had stopped breathing. ‘I will do everything I can to make sure you come to no harm and that your identities are protected,’ I continued. ‘We must leave soon for the Tower of London.’
I turned to Mrs Morgan, ‘Please wait in here for a few minutes with Grace while I check that we have everything we need. Grace has some clothes for you to change into. Mr Mills, I’m afraid I had the audacity to ready the coach. Could you ask the coachman to bring it around to the front of the house and wait there with Mrs Mills?’
My trusting friends asked no questions as the coach pitched and rolled through the dirty, rutted streets to the Tower. The driver had been instructed to make great haste and we struggled to maintain our balance. I chattered nervously, distracting them with nonsense about the weather and the number of beggars and whether the new king would do anything to make London a safer city. Mrs Morgan, in her extra petticoats and cloak, began to look hot, her cheeks burning with fiery pink patches and I worried she might faint. I passed her my handkerchief which had been dipped in lavender water. I saw Mr and Mrs Mills exchange a quick glance, as if they thought they might have become involved in the desperate antics of a woman driven mad by grief. I think only Grace’s calm smile prevented Mr Mills from asking the coachman to turn around for home.
The coach stopped at the first gate to the Tower, and Grace put a hand on Mr Mills’ arm to prevent him from stepping down from the coach with his wife and Mrs Morgan, who were to accompany me on foot. Grace said that she needed him to continue alone with her but he protested, anxious for the safety of his wife.
My tone forbade any further argument. ‘It will just be like an ordinary visit to my husband. I will keep her safe. You must go with Grace to secure a lodging for William and myself. Only a man can do this. You will return here very soon.’ Mr Mills settled back into his seat, his expression forlorn.
Grace climbed down from the carriage and hugged me. ‘Be brave and take great care,’ she whispered before shaking Mrs Mills and Mrs Morgan by the hand. ‘Listen to Winifred,’ she instructed. ‘Do exactly as she says.’
At each gate, we were received with sympathy as news of the king’s prevarication had already reached the wardens. Like me, they had guessed that William would not be one of those reprieved and they allowed me the wife’s privilege of access to a prisoner facing execution. My explanation that my women friends, their heads lowered and eyes masked by handkerchiefs, had come to support me in my farewell to William, was accepted with kindness and I was nodded through. I was lucky that grief is an embarrassment and no one wished to look too closely.
At the Lieutenant’s Lodge I asked Mrs Mills to wait downstairs. She looked afraid, as if she had finally grasped that she was to enter this place of imprisonment and execution. I was fearful she might choose to run.
I pressed my cheek to hers and growled. ‘I will come down for you soon, I promise. If anyone asks, you are waiting to say farewell to the Earl of Nithsdale. Keep your face down and covered.’
I turned to Mrs Morgan. ‘Upstairs I will call you Mrs Catherine. You must stand tall but cover your face.’ She nodded and I saw her swallow. Her face was pale and dappled with sweat. ‘Follow me now.’
In the chamber, the guards sat around the fire but the mood was quiet and solemn out of respect for the condemned man. As I had hoped, there were only a few women. Women notice details.
‘I’ve brought some friends to say goodbye to my husband,’ I addressed them as a group, speaking over their heads. ‘We won’t stay long. I have to go to the House of Lords. There’s to be another petition tonight. My servant will call for me when the carriage is below. Will one of you let me know when she arrives?’ I tried to swallow but I had no saliva. I felt Mrs Morgan as a shadow at my shoulder.
The head warder, Marian’s husband Tom, pushed himself out of his chair and came towards us, tucking his shirt over his belly and into his trews. ‘The women all got a bit drunk last night,’ he folded his arms and smiled, then looked down at the floorboards. ‘They’re a bit poorly today.’ He walked in front of us to William’s door and pushed the guard’s halberd away. ‘Let Lady Nithsdale and her friend in. Where’s your manners?’
William jumped as we entered. He hadn’t expected me and certainly not Mrs Morgan, who he had never met. I put my fingers to my lips and William raised his eyebrows as I asked Mrs Morgan to strip off both of her outer cloaks and the extra petticoats. I kissed William on the cheek then steered my friend back through the door and past the guards, now dressed in only one layer of clothing.
‘Has my servant called to say the coach is ready?’ I called out to Tom. At my side, Mrs Morgan feigned great distress and covered her face.
He didn’t look up from his game of chess. ‘No, my lady, no one’s come for you.’
‘That’s ridiculous. I’m going to be late.’ I feigned irritation. ‘Come on, Mrs Catherine, I’ll take you downstairs.’
To my relief, Mrs Mills still waited for us, chewing on her glove and staring anxiously up at the staircase when she heard our footsteps.
‘Is it my turn?’ she whispered.
‘Cover your face and come up with me,’ I barked. ‘Don’t look at anyone. Pretend to be heartbroken but no obvious weeping or wailing.’
We hurried back through the wood-panelled guard’s chamber without more than a friendly nod from Marian’s husband. The guard on William’s door let us pass and I closed it behind us.
‘What next!’ William grumbled but I could see he was interested. ‘Why is Mrs Mills here?’ He remembered his manners and bowed to her.
I whispered to them both. ‘I need to create confusion about how many women there are and who’s gone in and who’s gone out. Luckily, they’re not paying much attention. Mrs Mills you must put on the clothes Mrs Morgan left behind. Hurry now!’
‘I thought those were for me.’ William interrupted, looking away as Mrs Mills stripped to her petticoats.
‘Just do as I say. Don’t argue. I’m going to take Mrs Mills down to wait with Mrs Morgan. You’ll be next.’ I pointed to the clothes Mrs Mills had dropped on the floor. ‘While I’m gone put these on.’ I glanced out of the window at the fading light. ‘Good, it’s almost dark. I want you out of here before they light the lamps.’
I turned and saw that Mrs Mills was crying. ‘It’s nearly over,’ I pressed her shoulder. ‘Your husband should be waiting at the gate with Grace. I’ll get you out of here now. This time, stand erect but cover your face.’
Rushing Mrs Mills through the chamber that was lit only by embers from the fire, I felt hopeful that the warders wouldn’t notice her trailing robes and petticoat. I walked behind her, complaining about my carriage and loudly begging Mrs Mills to try and find out what had happened.
Downstairs, I pushed Mrs Mills and Mrs Morgan outside the Lodge and we hurried past the guards to the gate where their coach would collect them. It was a cold evening and the guards barely lifted their heads from their glowing braziers to nod in greeting.
‘Wait here for Grace and Mr Mills,’ I commanded them. ‘If I’m not back in ten minutes with my husband, save yourselves. If your carriage doesn’t arrive, hire a hackney and get home. No one knows you were here.’ If I failed at least they would escape.
Back at the Lodge, the young lamplighter was starting his duties. I had but a few minutes of dusk to get William out. I ran up the stairs and walked briskly through the chamber. The guard dropped his halberd lazily and yawned. He didn’t look at me. Inside, William was dressed in Mrs Mills’ clothes. Since she was a plump woman, they fitted his girth but the petticoats were too short and showed his big, manly feet. There was nothing I could do. His cloak would have to hide the worst. I pushed William into a chair and tried to lighten his heavy brows with powder. It was useless.
There was a tap on the door. We looked at each other. My stomach turned to liquid. Was it over? Was I a prisoner too?
‘Lady Nithsdale, I’m told your carriage has arrived. It’s waiting outside. You must hurry.’
‘Just a minute,’ I called. ‘My friend is deeply upset.’
Our moment had come. William and I looked at each other and he pulled me towards him and whispered, ‘Win, you must be the bravest woman ever born.’
I pulled the hood of the cloak over his head and pushed a cloth into his hand. He covered his face and I coaxed my distressed woman friend through the chamber and down into the hallway, clasping her hunched shoulders. I felt as if my chest would burst but no one stopped us. No one called out.
I pushed open the heavy wooden doors to the outside and strode back through the gates, with William clinging to my arm. My tall and ungainly companion attracted no attention from the guards but I heard kindly greetings from those who noticed me pass, ‘God bless you, Lady Nithsdale.’
Grace waited in the fading light next to the Mills’ carriage, her pale face suspended in the dusk like a mask. The other two women were secure in a hackney carriage and Mr Mills sat next to his coachman. Walking after William to prevent his shoulders and feet being visible to the guards behind us, I heard Mr Mills swear. ‘Gadzooks, she’s done it!’
I shouted to Grace, ‘Get him out of here, now!’ She pushed William into the Mills’ carriage and I turned to the others and flapped my arms, ‘Go now, all of you!’
The next bit was the worst. I trembled at the thought of returning to the Lodge, taking the risk of being present at the very moment William’s escape was discovered. But our success depended upon the deception being played out for longer and I had to gain more time. My instinct told me to run, to try to leave with my husband, but my friends were gone. I pulled my cloak around me and with my head bowed, reached the Lodge unchallenged and hurried up the stairs, breathless, towards William’s empty room.
‘Here again?’ His guard lowered his weapon. ‘You can’t stay away. I thought you were rushing to meet a carriage?’
‘Yes, you’re right but I must say one last farewell to my lord, alone.’ My genuine tears were those of terror, not grief, but he let me pass. Inside I paced and pushed chairs, as if we were moving around. I feigned a deep voice that I hoped sounded like William comforting me and then I fell silent. The horror of the empty room crept under my skin. I feared the sound of voices, of a key turning in the lock. I felt trapped. I couldn’t breathe. I could bear it no longer. I pulled my hood around my face and left, pretending to whisper a desperate farewell to William through the open door. Out of respect, the guard looked away.
I dropped the string of the viewing hatch over the top of the door, trapping it inside and keeping my head down, walked slowly back through the wardens. Their voices dropped to whispers, wary of my distress. On the stairs I met the boy lighting candles and stopped to speak to him. I pushed some coins into his hand.
‘My lord is praying. He’s not to be disturbed. He wishes to be left in darkness, for darkness is his future. Do not light his candles tonight.’
The boy nodded, his back to the wall, more afraid of me and imminent death than he was of the wardens. I knew that he would eventually light the candles as expected but perhaps he would wait awhile. I had to get away.
I ran through each gate as if demons snapped at my heels but was allowed to pass unhindered. These good men, who felt sadness and guilt at their necessary involvement in my husband’s incarceration, would feel duped and bitter in a matter of hours. I hated that I had abused their trust.
In my solitary journey from the Tower, shock at our extraordinary deception overwhelmed me and I allowed myself to wail, biting on my gloved hand. If Grace and William had been caught, when dawn came my husband would be hung and disembowelled. I would be imprisoned with Grace and perhaps my loyal friends. I felt no sense of triumph and trembled with fear, as if I were ill with fever.
At Duke Street, I was met with excitement and relief. Everyone was present apart from Grace but Mr Mills reassured me that within the last hour he had seen her at the safe house with William. Everyone wanted to talk at once. We felt cold, although the servants built up the fire until it roared like an inferno. We were exhausted but no one wanted to rest. It was only five o’clock but years might have passed since we met in the drawing room. Not even Mrs Morgan wanted to leave us to be with her husband. It seemed impossible that these were the same rooms, the same furniture. Soon, the cook would ask Mrs Mills to check on the dinner organised only that morning. These humdrum matters could not exist because we were utterly changed.
We had achieved something that was believed to be impossible and every detail, every fear, every minor triumph had to be turned over and inspected. Mr Mills quietly admitted that once he realised the nature of the plan and had no faith in its success, he had left Grace alone to try and seek refuge for William with her aunt. He had been desperate to return to the Tower, he breathlessly explained, to rescue his wife and had expected poor Grace to return to the Tower in a sedan chair. But once he had seen that Mrs Mills and Mrs Morgan were safe and when my husband had appeared with me, the ugliest woman in the kingdom wearing his wife’s dress, he had not hesitated to take Grace and William in his carriage to find a better safe house. This was where William lodged and where he now waited for me.
Mrs Mills pretty face crumpled when she remembered how she had feared for her life walking through the guards and Mrs Morgan admitted that she had been terrified waiting alone downstairs, risking discovery and capture. I cried out my own admission that I feared I had risked their lives for the sake of William and we might all have ended on the gallows.
This dark truth, that I had disregarded their safety and without their consent, silenced us. When our deed was discovered, we would not be safe. I was confident that my friends hadn’t been recognised but suspicion would certainly fall on them. They were loyal Jacobites and it was widely known where I had been staying. I had to leave at once, for their complicity would be certain if I remained. But the night wasn’t yet over; there were further trails I had to lay before I could be with my husband.