CHAPTER I.

SHOWING HOW THE HUNTING-LODGE WAS BUILT BY THE LORD OF CHILLINGTON, AND HOW IT ACQUIRED ITS NAME.

Towards the latter part of Elizabeth's reign, when those who professed the tenets of the Church of Rome were prevented by heavy penalties from performing the rites of their religion, while such as refused to take the oath of supremacy were held guilty of high treason, John Giffard, eleventh Lord of Chillington, in Staffordshire, himself a strict Roman Catholic, and a great sufferer from the oppressive measures referred to, determined to provide a safe asylum for recusants in a secluded part of his domains; and with this view he built a hunting-lodge in the depths of Brewood Forest, which then belonged to him, and contrived within the lonesome structure several secret hiding-places.

The situation was remarkably well chosen. Buried in a wood, where it was hardly likely to be discovered, the hunting-lodge was placed on the exact boundary line between Shropshire and Staffordshire, so that it was difficult to say in which county it stood. The whole surrounding district was covered with woods and commons--the nearest habitations being the ruined monasteries of White Ladies and Black Ladies. Several large trees had been removed to make way for the lodge and the outbuildings connected with it, but it was screened by majestic oaks, which grew within a few yards of the gates. Through these trees enchanting views could be obtained of the sylvan scenery beyond, of vale and upland, and purple heath, until the vast prospect was terminated by the picturesque Clee Hills and the blue outline of the Wrekin.

Nothing, however, save forest timber could be discerned in the immediate vicinity of the lodge, and from this circumstance it obtained its designation. On the completion of the building, the Squire of Chillington invited some of his friends to the house-warming. Among them was Sir Basil Brooke, then newly returned from Rome.

"How shall I name the place?" asked John Giffard.

"I will give you a charming and appropriate name for it," replied Sir Basil. "Call it Boscobel--from the Italian Bosco bello--Fair Wood."

The suggestion was adopted, and BOSCOBEL it became.

The solitary forest lodge answered its double purpose well. Its real object was not suspected, nor were its hiding-places discovered, though often resorted to by recusants during the reigns of Elizabeth and James I. Hunting and hawking-parties were sometimes assembled at the lodge by the Squire of Chillington to keep up appearances, but on such occasions due precautions were always taken for the security of those hidden within the house. No servants were employed except those on whose fidelity entire reliance could be placed--and who were themselves Romanists. Of the numbers of persecuted priests harboured at Boscobel none were ever betrayed. Nor during the Civil Wars was a fugitive Cavalier ever refused shelter.

A staunch Royalist as well as zealous Romanist, Peter Giffard, grandson of the builder of Boscobel, suffered severely for his adherence to the cause of the unfortunate Charles I. His noble ancestral domains were confiscated, and he himself was imprisoned at Stafford. Not till the Restoration did the loyal family recover their estates.

At the time of our history Chillington was almost entirely abandoned. In this magnificent mansion Queen Elizabeth had been entertained in princely style during one of her progresses by John Giffard; and the house, from its size and situation, had been once under consideration as a suitable place of confinement for Mary, Queen of Scots. Its hospitalities were now at an end--its halls desolate. When the unfortunate Peter Giffard was deprived of his abode, Chillington was converted into a garrison by Sir William Brereton, and great damage done to it by the Parliamentary soldiers. Luckily, they could not destroy the beautiful avenue and the park, though they despoiled the house and laid waste the splendid old gardens.

Boscobel, though only two miles distant from the hall, escaped injury at this perilous juncture. William Penderel, who had been placed in charge of the lodge by the Squire of Chillington, was not disturbed, and was consequently able to afford shelter to many a Royalist. The rest of the brothers were equally lucky. George was allowed to remain at White Ladies, and the others pursued their quiet avocations in the forest. No doubt they enjoyed this immunity solely because they did not excite Sir William Brereton's suspicions.

William Penderel had now been two-and-twenty years at Boscobel. The office of under-steward was conferred upon him at the time of his marriage, so that he obtained a most comfortable residence for himself and his wife--the only drawback being that the tenure of the post was somewhat insecure, and when the Chillington estates were sequestered, he fully expected to be turned off. However, he was at Boscobel still. William had four children--two sons and two daughters--but they were now from home.

In Dame Joan, his wife, he possessed a capital helpmate. She could not boast of much personal attraction, but she had many excellent qualities. A model of prudence, she could be safely trusted on all emergencies, and she was as good-tempered as discreet. Tall and strong, Dame Joan was not masculine either in look or manner, and her features, though plain and homely, had a kindly expression, that did not belie her nature. She had a thoroughly honest look, and the tidiness of her apparel proclaimed an excellent housewife. Such was the opinion formed by Charles of this worthy woman, as he beheld her for the first time, when crossing the threshold of Boscobel House.

After making him an obeisance, not devoid of a certain rustic grace, Joan drew back respectfully, and ushered his majesty and Careless into a parlour on the ground floor, and then made another obeisance.

"Oddsfish! my good dame," said Charles, smiling. "You understand matters of ceremony so well, that you must e'en come to court--supposing I should ever have a court."

"Boscobel was greatly honoured when the Earl of Derby sought shelter here," replied Joan. "But it is now far more highly honoured since your majesty has set foot within the house. My husband and myself are not fitting persons to receive your majesty, but we will do our best, and you may depend upon it we will watch over you most carefully."

This was the finest speech Joan had ever delivered, but she deemed it necessary to the occasion. Charles thanked her graciously, but said, "Mark me, my good dame. All ceremony must be laid aside. Any observance of it might endanger my safety. When I put on this garb I became one of yourselves. Address me only as Will Jackson."

"I can never bring myself to address your majesty by such a name as that!" said Joan.

"Wife! wife!" cried William Penderel from behind. "You must do whatever his majesty bids you, without a word."

"Why, you are committing a similar error, William," laughed the king. "But if you desire to oblige me, my good dame, you will go and prepare breakfast."

"Master William Jackson shall have the best the house can furnish--and quickly," replied Joan, departing.

The apartment into which the king had been shown was tolerably large, though the ceiling was low, and it was lighted by a bay-window at the further end, and by a lattice-window at the side, commanding the entrance to the house, and looking out upon the wood. A very pleasant room, wainscoted with black oak, and furnished with an ample dining-table, and chairs of the same material. In the days of old John Giffard many a festive party had gathered round that board after a day's hunting or hawking in the forest, but it was long, long since there had been revelry of any kind at the lodge. Over the carved oak mantel-piece hung a picture that caught Charles's attention. It was the portrait of a grave-looking personage in a velvet doublet and ruff, with eyes so life-like that they seemed to return the king's glances.

"The old gentleman above the fireplace appears to bid me welcome," observed Charles. "He has a fine face."

"It is the portrait of Squire John Giffard of Chillington, who built this house, my liege," said William Penderel. "It has always been accounted a good likeness. Ah! if the worthy squire could but have foreseen who would come here for shelter! Some good saint must have inspired him, when he contrived the hiding-places."

"Of a truth, I ought to feel much beholden to him for providing me with such a place of refuge," remarked Charles.

While examining the room, the king noticed a door on the left, and found on investigation that it opened on a small closet, with a lattice-window looking upon a retired part of the garden. There was no furniture in the closet except a desk, which might be used for prayer.

"Is this one of the hiding-places?" asked Charles.

"No, my liege," replied William Penderel, who had followed him. "This is an oratory. We are Roman Catholics, as your majesty is aware."

"I see no altar," observed Charles.

William Penderel opened a recess in the wall, so contrived that it had quite escaped the king's attention, and disclosed a small altar, with a cross above it.

"Here we pay our devotions in private," he said.

"And here I will pay mine," rejoined Charles. "I must return thanks to the Great Power that has hitherto preserved me. Leave me."

Careless and William Penderel at once retired, and closed the door of the oratory.

Left alone, Charles knelt down before the altar, and was for some time occupied in fervent prayer.