The Love Child

“You would never be like that. You and I have been friends.” She turned away and I saw her lips move in that pathetic way which always upset me. In spite of her aloofness there was a closeness between us. After all, she knew a great deal more about me than anyone else in the house did.

There was a great scare that year and my mother was very anxious. Ever since the Popish Plot had been the great event of the time, showing us that our comfortable lives could be easily and tragically interrupted, an uneasiness had settled on her.

I knew it concerned my father.

He was a very forceful man and not inclined to keep his opinions to himself. He had grown firmly anti-Catholic, and as the heir to the throne was James, Duke of York and he made no secret of his leanings, she could see trouble ahead. My father was a great friend of the Duke of Monmouth and my mother always said that he was one who was born for trouble.

Monmouth, son of Charles the Second and Lucy Walter, was the most colourful man at Court … next to his father. He had good looks, which his father lacked, and he had a certain charm; he did not possess his father’s shrewdness and clever devious mind, though he was bold and reckless-brave enough, but careless of his own safety and that of others.

The King loved him dearly, and while Charles lived, Monmouth would be forgiven a hundred indiscretions. Yet those about him feared that he might go a little too far one day. And during that summer it seemed he had.

It was understandable that my mother should view with disquiet my father’s friendship with such as Monmouth. It was not so much that my father was devoted to the man; it was rather what he stood for. My father said he had not lived through the Commonwealth and upheld the Royalist cause for the sake of a Catholic bigot who before long would have the Inquisition installed in England.

He would grow very fierce when he talked of such matters and I noticed that my mother, who normally would have indulged in verbal battle with him, was unusually silent.

When we first heard about the Rye House Plot she became almost ill with anxiety.

It was a foolish plot, doomed to disaster. The plan was to assassinate the King and his brother as they rode back to London from the Newmarket races. The road led past a lonely farmhouse, near Hoddesdon in Hertfordshire, known as Rye House, and from this the plot took its name. It was owned by a man named Rumbold, who was one of the chief instigators.

Two events worked against them. There was a fire in the house in Newmarket where the King and Duke were staying, and they decided that rather than bother finding another lodging they would return to London. Thus they travelled along the road past Rye House Farm before the conspirators expected them.

Meanwhile a letter was found addressed to Lord Dartmouth in which the plan was set out.

Having just emerged from the excitement of the Popish Plot, which had now petered out like a dampened fire, the people were eager to give their attention to another plot. The Rye House Plot was discussed with animation throughout the country. A proclamation was issued for the apprehending of suspects and there was a reward of a hundred pounds to any who succeeded in bringing any of the conspirators to justice.

This was when my mother began to grow uneasy. She was terrified that my father might be involved and that for the large sum of one hundred pounds someone might be tempted to betray him.

I heard them discussing it together.

“I tell you,” he said, “I was not involved. I had no part in it. It was a foolish venture, in any case … doomed to failure. Besides, do you think I would agree to a plot to assassinate Charles?”

“I know of your affection for him… and his for you …”

“And you think I am in the habit of plotting against those for whom I have affection?”

“I know your strong feelings for Monmouth and your desire to see him on the throne.”

“Oh, Bella, you surprise me. I want Monmouth on the throne only if there is a question of James taking it. What I want is what is best for the country … for you … for me … for every one of us … and that is that Charles shall stay where he is for the next ten or twenty years.”

“I could not believe that you would want to harm him.”

They walked together in the gardens arm in arm-not hiding their tenderness for each other on this occasion.

Being so absorbed in my child and my constant thought being how we could be together, I had little time to brood on plots. As long as I knew that my father was not involved I could forget it. There had been an attempt on the life of the King; guilty men had been brought to justice; and that was an end to it.