The Orange Autumn

By Judith Thomson

James ll is King of England and he is not popular. The situation is dangerously volatile. The Duke of Monmouth's rebellion has failed, with bloody consequences, but there are still many who desire to see James replaced with a Protestant monarch. Philip Devalle, who  has raised an army of supporters for Prince William of Orange, is one of them.

Philip has been James' open enemy in the past, and so has Philip's brother-in-law, Giles, who fought in Monmouth's doomed uprising. Neither will prosper under James' rule but they must both decide whether to risk all by taking part in the Glorious Revolution to put a Dutchman on the throne!

 

"So the question is, my friend, should I hazard everything upon the turn of this one card? My estate, my friendship with King Louis, my freedom and perhaps my life?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Matador
• Release date: Feb 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215890370

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the orange autumn

judith thomson

Copyright © 2017 Judith Thomson

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Brought up in Lincolnshire, Judith Thomson studied Art in Leicester before moving to Sussex where she still lives. She is passionate about the seventeenth century and has gained much inspiration from visits to Paris and Versailles. In her spare time she enjoys painting, scuba diving and boating. She is the author of three previous Philip Devalle novels:- ‘Designs of a Gentleman: The Early Years’, ‘Designs of Gentleman: The Darker Years’ and ‘High Heatherton’.

Follow her on:-

Judiththomsonsite.wordpress.com

Judiththomsonblog.wordpress.com

and on Twitter @JudithThomson14

1685

ONE

The heat was shimmering over the dry Sussex landscape as Giles watched a small boy trudge along the dusty track that ran alongside the flint walls bordering High Heatherton, the estate of the Earl of Southwick.

It was hot and airless, the kind of day which usually heralded a storm, but there were no clouds to be seen in the blue August sky. The boy plucked a large leaf from the chestnut tree that overhung the wall and fanned himself with it as he sat down under its shade.

Giles decided that this was the best opportunity he was likely to get.

He emerged from the long grass that bordered the wheat field on the opposite side of the track and the boy leapt to his feet, his eyes wide with fright.

The sight of soldiers had become common enough, even on lonely country lanes, since the Duke of Monmouth had been defeated at Sedgemoor the previous month and King James had begun hunting down the rebels, but Giles knew he looked nothing like a soldier, dressed, as he was, in rough clothes.

Do not run away, he said to him, in a soft voice. I mean you no harm.

The lad stood stock still. Giles guessed he could not have run if he had wanted to, for fear seemed to have fixed him to the spot. He could hardly blame him. He knew he must look alarming, for he was filthy dirty and unshaven and he had a bloodstain on his sleeve. Besides that, Giles bore a scar which ran down the left side of his face, from his temple to his jaw. It was not a recent injury, but he knew it was no less ugly for all that.

What do you want with me, sir? the boy said timidly.

Only for you to do me a small service. Giles took a coin from his pocket. You can earn this sixpence if you do it right.

Sixpence? The boy looked at it hopefully. For me?

Yes, yes, all for you. Do you know the Earl of Southwick’s servant, Thomas Sullivan?

Thomas? That I do, sir.

I want you to bring him here to me right away.

Suppose he won’t come?

I think he will, if you give him this. Giles slipped a twisted silver ring from his finger and held it out to the boy with the coin. Be quick now, and speak to no-one but Thomas. Do you understand?

Perfectly, sir.

Giles watched him running down the lane towards the gates of the estate and then he lay down in the field, amongst the tall wheat. He kept alert. There was always the possibility that the boy would betray him and that he might have to make a dash for it. Weary as he was, he knew he would not get far.

High Heatherton’s gates were locked, for, in these uncertain times, it was wise to take precautions.

I’ve got to see Thomas, the boy said importantly to the farm manager’s son, who unlocked them for him.

He found the Earl’s servant, Thomas, watering his horse at the trough in the stable yard. Thomas was a thin, wiry young man, agile as a cat and constantly alert. He glanced around at the sound of the footsteps approaching him, then laughed as the little village boy ran at him so fast he could scarcely stop.

Whoa there, young Will! What’s all this rushing about on such a hot day?

Will took a swig of water from the trough, for his throat was so dry from his exertions that he could barely speak. I have a message. There’s a stranger wants to see you right away.

Thomas frowned. A stranger?

Yes, and I think he’s hurt. He gave me sixpence to fetch you and he gave me this.

Thomas stared at the ring in Will’s hand. He took it, and then slipped a similarly shaped ring from his own finger. With a twist he joined the two together to make a single band. What did he look like? he said to the boy, who had watched him in amazement.

He was all dirty and he had some blood on his coat, and a great scar here. The boy drew an imaginary line down his own face.

Where is he? Thomas gripped him by the shoulders.

In the wheat field, opposite the chestnut tree.

Outside the gates of the estate Thomas looked about him. He could see the old chestnut tree but even when he drew near he could not see anybody in the field.

Giles? he said warily.

I’m here, Thomas. Relieved, Giles came out from amongst the wheat, where he had been hiding. I didn’t know if I could trust the boy to find you or whether he would bring others.

Thomas threw his arms around him. Giles was the brother of the Earl’s wife, Theresa, but he and Thomas had always been the best of friends. Giles, it truly is you! I have prayed that you were still alive. We’ve worried so much about you.

Giles was touched at his welcome. My dear Thomas, seeing you again almost makes everything I have endured worthwhile.

Giles knew his scar held no horror for such an old friend, but Thomas looked upset at the sight of the bloodstain on his right sleeve.

You are injured!

It’s not as bad as it looks. I’ve bound it up and I can still move my arm. I can even shoot with it, Giles said grimly. I shot a Royalist soldier yesterday when he guessed who I was.

Thomas shuddered. To think you were so nearly apprehended!

They sat down together in the field so as to be hidden from view. Thomas had thought to bring him some water and Giles gratefully drained the bottle. Oh, Thomas, I am so tired. He lay back in the long wheat. Tired of trudging these choking dirt tracks, tired of watching for my pursuers, tired of being dressed in stinking rags.

Thomas could not resist a smile at that for, although Giles had lost a lot of his vanity since the scar had spoiled his handsome looks, he had always been a dandy. I wish I could take you to the house but, in truth, I dare not, for the soldiers call upon us at any hour of day or night. Lord Southwick and your sister have been summoned to London to be questioned by the King and the rest of us are being closely watched. A reward of five hundred pounds is offered for your capture.

Giles smiled wanly. As much as that? It is good to know what one’s life is worth! As for Heatherton, it was never my intention to go there to beg for Philip’s help. Not after the way we parted.

Philip, the Earl of Southwick, had been his patron when Giles had first come to Court, but they had not seen one another since they had travelled together to the Netherlands to visit the Duke of Monmouth in Gouda earlier in the year. After a fruitless attempt to dissuade the Duke from his doomed Rebellion, Philip had returned to England, but Giles had decided to remain with Monmouth.

If only the Duke of Monmouth had heeded the master’s advice, Thomas said with a sigh. He might be alive now and you would not be in this state.

The advice came a little late, I fear, Giles said wryly. It was of no use by then to tell a man like Monmouth that he should abandon what he felt was his destiny. God knows he had precious little enthusiasm for it himself by the time we sailed, but I could no more have stopped him than I could have saved him from the executioner’s axe. I only wish he could have died at Sedgemoor so that he would never have realised the dreadful extent of his failure and the fate of his devoted followers.

What went wrong at Sedgemoor, Giles?

What did not? Giles said grimly. First of all, a shot was fired as we were creeping towards the Royalist troops, though strict orders had been given that none were to fire before the command, and it warned the soldiers of our approach. Then there was Lord Grey, for whom I have never had too much regard. He was at the head of the cavalry, but he was no match for Lord Churchill. If it had been Philip leading them it might have been a different story, for it needed a military commander of more skill and experience than Grey. The horses were untrained and the troops raw. In the darkness and the fog, he could not keep them in order. When the infantry saw the horses bolt they fell into disarray and nothing could be done with them. Half of them sneaked back to their villages. Monmouth fought bravely, of course, but we had insufficient ammunition. Some fought with scythes, or even the tools they use in the mines!

He paused for a moment, reliving the disastrous battle. When he spoke again his tone was bitter. When all was plainly lost I pleaded with the Duke to accompany me to Sussex, but he would take Grey’s advice and head for the New Forest to try to take ship at Lymington. I went with them, as I know the Forest well. Giles was a native of Dorset. "I led them through the quiet villages and forest tracks to my father’s house, where I had hoped to get us a night’s rest, but when we arrived we saw that soldiers had been stationed around it. I knew then that all was hopeless. Even though we had turned our horses loose and exchanged our clothes for these tatters, I knew we had no chance whilst we stayed together. We separated at Ringwood.

I think they took Grey almost straightaway and the next day I heard that Monmouth was found asleep in a ditch. Perhaps if I had stayed with him he would not have been found."

Or you might have been found as well, Thomas said. Don’t blame yourself.

I was the last of his friends to see him alive, Giles said quietly. As we parted he thanked me for my friendship and the loyalty I had always shown him. We promised to spend Christmas together in Amsterdam, but in our hearts we both knew we would not meet again. Giles turned his head away. The memory was a poignant one and it would haunt him always. I’ve done with loyalty now, and the Protestant Cause. If I get out of this mess I vow I shall consider nothing but my own advancement in the world. Will you help me, Thomas, for there is no other I can trust?

Of course I will, Thomas said, unhesitatingly. I would do anything for you, Giles, absolutely anything at all. Food, money, a horse, only ask it of me.

Food I will accept from you and gratefully. Giles had a healthy appetite at the best of times. As for the rest, well, I have a little money and I would not get far upon a horse, I fear. I am too easily distinguishable with this. He touched his scar. I shall need a change of clothes and some form of transport, a covered cart, perhaps, in which I can travel unseen. You have only to get me as far as Shoreham. From there a boat will convey me to France.

Thomas shook his head. You will never find a boat prepared to take you, Giles.

I already have one waiting, Giles told him, a Dutch fishing boat. All was arranged before I ever left Holland.

Thomas stared at him. You made provision for your escape?

I took that precaution in case anything should go amiss. What is wrong with that? I never thought we had a chance, not from the first.

Yet you still sailed with him? Why, Giles?

He needed me, Giles said simply. I could not let him down. Will you do it?

Of course. I will tell Morgan you are here and return just as quickly as I can, Thomas said. Morgan was the Steward of the estate and, although he and Giles had not always seen eye to eye, Giles knew he could trust him. You could be in Shoreham tonight, if that is what you want, but what if your boat is not there?

It will be there, Giles assured him. I instructed the captain to be ready from the moment Monmouth’s defeat was announced.

Thomas glanced around worriedly. I really don’t like leaving you here alone.

Giles touched the pistol at his belt. He was an expert shot. I can still defend myself.

But you won’t fall asleep, will you? Remember that was how Monmouth was caught.

Giles did not fall asleep, although he was still lying in the same spot when Thomas returned, a half hour later, driving a covered farm wagon. Giles went to climb into the back and then stopped. The cart already had an occupant.

Bet?

Morgan’s wife, Bet, beckoned him into the cart. Come, up with you, she said briskly. We thought I should come along and see to your arm along the way.

Giles did as he was told. He was too weak to argue, especially with Bet, who ruled the household with an iron hand. Besides, although he had not admitted it to Thomas, his wound had begun to throb.

As Thomas set off at a steady pace, Bet tossed a bundle onto Giles’ lap. I thought you’d want the food first.

She was right, and Giles tore at the cold chicken and bread like an animal. He glanced up once to find her devouring him with her eyes almost as voraciously as he was devouring the fowl.

I’m not a pretty sight, am I?

You are a wonderful sight, she said, one I feared I would never see again. When I heard it took five blows before Jack Ketch had cut off Monmouth’s head I prayed he would sharpen up his axe before they caught you. Oh, Giles. Bet sank her head into her hands, suddenly overcome, but Giles gently pulled her hands from her face and kissed her damp cheek.

I never thought to see you, of all people, weeping over me. I have come to the conclusion that you and Thomas are a sentimental pair.

If you have done with that food I’d best begin to work on you, Bet said, when she was composed again. She took the cloth, which now contained only chicken bones and a few crumbs, and passed him, instead, a bottle of brandy.

Giles raised an eyebrow. Philip’s brandy? He would not like that!

But you may need it to dull the pain. She helped him out of his soiled clothes then carefully unwound the bandage he had made from a strip torn from the bottom of his shirt. The dried blood had caused it to adhere to the wound and he winced slightly. Bet pulled a face. It’s festering. Lie down. I’ll need to clean it.

Giles took a swig of the brandy. He was glad of it, for the sword cut was deep and Bet needed to remove the dirt that had got into it. He was no coward, however, and he did not make a sound as she dabbed at the wound with an ointment she had made herself from olive oil in which she had boiled a dead cat. Bet’s remedies were traditional ones and distasteful to the more fastidious!

Thomas had stopped the cart whilst she performed the delicate task and he took Giles’ old rags into a nearby wood and set fire to them, stamping firmly on the ashes so that no charred remains could alert suspicion.

By the time he returned Giles’ arm was wrapped in clean linen and he had washed and shaved, so that he was beginning to feel almost himself again. It is delightful to be fussed over, Bet, he said to her, as she combed the tangles from his auburn hair.

Women had always made a fuss of him, but ever since a sword blade had scarred his face three years before he had avoided their attentions as much as possible.

Bet surveyed her handiwork with pride. If you’re caught now then at least you’ll not disgrace your family, she said as she helped him dress in some clothes which belonged to Thomas, for they were similar in build.

Giles smiled. That will be a big consolation! But what if we are stopped? he said seriously. The soldiers will deal with you and Thomas little better than they do me.

Bet only tapped the side of her nose in a knowing sort of way then she unrolled a mattress and spread it over the floor of the cart.

Now what? Giles said, bemused, as she lay upon the mattress and patted the place beside her.

Now we go to bed!

She pulled a blanket over them both. The feather mattress felt soft and comfortable to Giles, who had slept upon the hard ground for more anxious nights then he cared to recall. He could easily have drifted off to sleep, but he knew he must remain alert. It was getting dark as they neared Shoreham and they could be stopped at any time. They would all need their wits about them.

They were only a mile away when Thomas reined in the horse. Ahead of him in the road were two soldiers on horseback, each with lanterns and with their pistols at the ready. One dismounted and approached him.

Where might you be going, young man?

If you please, sir, I go to Shoreham town, Thomas said, in a broad Sussex accent. He was a Londoner and his normal voice might have aroused their curiosity.

And why do you go there?

It’s my sister, sir, she’s very sick. I’m taking her to see the physician.

The soldier walked around to the rear of the vehicle and put his hand upon the canvas to draw it back. What ails your sister, fellow?

I don’t know, sir, but I fear it is the smallpox.

The smallpox? The soldier recoiled quickly.

He may be lying, the soldier’s companion said. You’d best check the cart.

You check it. I’m not about to risk catching the smallpox, not even for King James.

But why would you want to check my cart? Thomas said to the soldier.

Because, you country dolt, we’re searching for rebel scum that escaped justice. Have you heard of Captain Fairfield?

No, sir.

You’d know him if you saw him, he has a scar down the side of his pretty face. The King would make it worth your while if you turn him in. Every road to the coast is being watched for Fairfield and every vehicle inspected.

Then make your inspection quickly, sir, I beg you, for my sister may be dying.

Bet moaned to reinforce his words and Giles stayed motionless as, reluctantly, the soldier peeped in. By the lantern light he would have been able to discern that the occupant was, indeed, a woman, and tossing about as though in high fever.

Move along, he said to Thomas, and quickly, damn you. Get her out of here.

Thomas wasted no time in obeying that order and once they were safely upon their way Giles threw back the blanket. That was neatly done.

It was Thomas’ idea, Bet said modestly.

But it took a cool nerve to carry it out. I’ll not forget this, Bet.

I think I’d rather you did, she said with a laugh. Morgan might not be too pleased to learn that we were in bed together!

When the lights of Shoreham harbour came into view Giles bade Thomas stop the cart for him to alight. You and Bet have taken risks enough for me already. I only hope that you do not encounter the same soldiers upon your return.

I’ll have to tell them that my sister died and I am taking her body back, Thomas said matter-of-factly. But we can’t abandon you here, Giles. They may still discover you.

Giles indicated the calm, dark sea. Somewhere out there my vessel awaits me. The captain will send a skiff ashore at dawn to a spot not far from here and I shall meet it. You must both be safely home long before that.

But how can you be so sure the skiff will come, Giles?

Because I arranged for it to do so each morning until I appeared or until a certain amount of time had elapsed. I planned every detail. As your dear master would say, ’trust me’!

That was a common expression of Philip’s, and Giles said it exactly in his voice. They all laughed, but they became serious again as Giles wrapped himself in the long, black cloak which Thomas had brought him and pulled up the hood to hide the brightness of his auburn hair and the scar that would so easily identify him to the soldiers.

Thank you, Bet, for your help and comfort.

Take care of your arm. Bet, too full for any other words, could only hug him hard.

Let me stay with you, Thomas said. Bet can drive the horse home.

Don’t be a fool, Thomas. Giles smiled fondly at him. I thank God for such a friend as you. I will repay all this to you one day, I swear it.

He turned quickly and walked away from them, also affected by the parting.

*

Thomas watched him disappear into the darkness of the night before he climbed back into the driver’s seat. As he took up the reins again he noticed that he still wore both parts of the silver ring.

I never gave him his half back, Bet, he said sadly.

Give it to him the next time you meet.

"Will there be a next time?

Yes, of course there will. Bet pressed his hand. This was not the last we’ll see of Giles Fairfield, you may be certain of that!

TWO

It was late when Giles arrived at the Palais Royale, the Paris home of Monsieur, King Louis’ brother, but he was admitted without question, for he was known to be one of Monsieur’s close friends and had his own room at the palace. He looked with delight upon the fine clothes and the jewellery he had left there, for he had feared he would never see any of them again.

Giles was, above all, a materialistic person, but whatever possessions he might amass he could not alter his birth, for the simple and irksome fact was that Giles was the son of a country squire. All the same it was possible for one who had cultivated such an influential friend as Monsieur to achieve a great deal, for titles could always be purchased.

Giles thought about Thomas and Bet as he stripped off the clothes Thomas had given him and about how they had risked their own safety to help him escape. He would not forget them, but they were a part of the life he was leaving behind him. Giles was set upon his resolution to consider nothing from now on save his own advancement and he determined that he would one day acquire by cunning and wealth that which he had been denied by breeding.

He dressed in one of his own coats, made of rich, brown velvet and trimmed with cream lace, and he thought how good it was to be in elegant clothes again. The outfit suited his colouring excellently and as he regarded himself in the glass it was almost possible for him to forget the scar that would forever spoil his appearance – almost, but not quite.

Monsieur certainly appeared to find no fault with him when Giles presented himself in his bedchamber; indeed he embraced him so enthusiastically that Giles cried out in pain, for his arm was still tender.

You are wounded, Monsieur said, distressed. You poor, dear thing!

Handsome, frivolous and somewhat effeminate, Monsieur had always regarded Giles rather as a schoolgirl might regard a female friend, someone to gossip with and to confide the secrets of his heart. Giles had always dispensed sympathy, understanding and encouragement as required whilst Monsieur fell in and out of love or intrigued against those he hated.

There could be little doubt of the secure place Giles himself held in Monsieur’s affections, however. For a few minutes all Monsieur could do was cling to him and weep.

It was rumoured that you had been caught, he said when he had recovered sufficiently to talk again. "I didn’t get much sleep that night, I can tell you. You