Will You Love Me in September

"I feel better," I replied, "and inclined to talk, but I cannot tell you what you want me to simply because I do not know it.”

"You are a good spy," he said, almost admiringly, "but you will weaken in the end.”

"How long will you keep me here?”

He lifted his shoulders. "It depends on so much.”

I was sitting on the bed; he took the chair and studied me intently. "When were you born?" he asked.

"February, 1702.”

"I was born in November, 1701, so I am quite a bit older than you are.”

"I make it three months.”

"Three months can be a long time. I am your jailer now, until the men come back.”

"Come back ... from where?”

My heart had begun to beat faster. Everything seemed brighter since this handsome youth had come into the attic. "Did you hear the commotion in the night?”

"No.”

"No, I suppose you wouldn't, up here. They have all left in a hurry. It will soon be over now. The loyal Highlanders are marching into England. The call came for all here to join the triumphant army of Highlanders. They are marching toward Preston.”

"Do you mean to say they have invaded England? Is there a war, then?”

"It will all be over soon. The English are falling back before the brave Highlanders.

James will soon be here to claim his throne.”

"You are a staunch Jacobite.”

"Of course. And you have been brought up in error. I know about you. They told me some of it and I gathered the rest. They didn't know what to do with you. Some of them wanted to kill you.”

"Kill me! They must be mad.”

"They said my uncle was mad to let you live.”

"Who is your uncle?”

"Sir Thomas Frenshaw.”

"Oh! So you are his nephew.”

He nodded. "I live with him here. He brought me up. Of course I see very little of him. He is a brave, good man.”

"He has scarcely been good to me. As for his bravery-to bully an innocent girl does not show much evidence of that quality.”

"You have a sharp tongue.”

"Sharp tongues are often good weapons. Not quite as effective as swords, but they have their uses.”

"You are a most unusual girl. You seem much older than you say you are.”

"That may seem so to you because you are young for your age.”

"I am not. I can outride many of the grooms, and my fencing master says I could fight a duel with success tomorrow.”

"Great achievements," I mocked. "You can also act as jailer to a girl who is not even in a position to attack you ... except with her sharp tongue.”

He laughed. "You are different from anyone I have ever known before," he said.

"Of course I am. I'm a spy.”

"You admit it, then," he said quickly.

"You are very young," I said loftily. "You don't even know when that tongue of mine is mocking you.”

"Remember, you are my prisoner. Until the men come back I have sole charge of you.”

"Then beware ... I might escape.”

"You can't. There are servants here. They all know that you have to be kept prisoner.

My uncle and his friends will soon be back.”

"Then if they are victorious and poor George is sent packing to Hanover and James the Saint is crowned, then my little sins won't amount to much.”

He considered this. "It's true," he said. "That might be your salvation. So you hope for James to be triumphant?”

"Nay!" I cried. "George forever.”

"That's treason.”

"On the other hand, you are the one who is guilty of treason.”

"You are a spy.”

I laughed at him derisively. Odd as it seemed, I was beginning to enjoy this. I was a captive, it was true, but my jailer was only a boy and I believed I could outwit him.

He was angry with me. He picked up the tray and went out, carefully locking the door behind him. I had been foolish. I should have played along with him. I should have found out more about the arrangements of the house. I might now be planning a way of escape.

I sat on the bed. In a few moments I heard the footsteps again. He had returned and he had a scared little maid with him.

"This is Janet," he said. "She will take you where you can wash and see to your toilette.

I shall be on the alert, so do not attempt to escape.”

I was grateful. I followed Janet out of the attic and down the stairs. There was a small place where I could wash and make myself generally comfortable. I saw cans of hot water standing there with an ewer and basin. She went out, shutting the door behind her, after she had indicated that she would be waiting for me.

In due course I emerged and was conducted to where my young jailer was waiting for me. We went back to our attic, and I sensed that he was still annoyed with me, as he said nothing. However, I thanked him. "It was very thoughtful of you," I said. "Not the sort of treatment a spy would expect.”

"We are not savages," he said, and went out, locking the door after him.

I felt better now. In fact, I was aware of a certain elation creeping over me. I was a prisoner in this house; my captors had hurried away to join in the victory they were expecting and my jailer was a boy more or less my own age. It did not seem such a desperate situation as it had when they had first brought me here.