Escapes! by Laura Scandiffio

her hand. Then she turned to Mrs. Mills. Winifred knew she was loyal to the Stuart cause. But would that be enough?
    Their landlady was dumbstruck, clearly astonished. Winifred bit her tongue as she waited for her answer. Had she been right to spring the idea at the last minute like this? She had hoped that the surprise and urgency would keep the women from considering the danger. At last Mrs. Mills nodded mutely.
    They would need one more helper. Who else could they trust? Evans quickly sent for her friend Miss Hilton, and Winifred’s dramatic pleas won her over as well.
    Her accomplices in hand, Winifred moved fast. She ushered the three women outside and into a waiting coach, which she had arranged beforehand. Throughout the ride she kept chatting — that way no one would have a chance for second thoughts.
    Her scheme sounded complicated, but it was based on a very simple idea: to confuse the guards with women coming and going from the prisoner’s room.
    â€œFor days before an execution, all men visiting the Tower are stopped and challenged to identify themselves,” she explained. “But not the women! And what coldhearted guard would stop a grieving lady, crying as she said farewell to a prisoner for the last time?”
    As the speeding coach lurched and bumped over the stone roads, Winifred reminded each lady of the part she would play. Mrs. Mills was a large, tall woman, and a few months pregnant. Lady Nithsdale had noticed that with her pregnant belly she was just about the same size and shape as her dear William! It was as “Mrs. Mills” that William would make his walk to freedom.
    Miss Hilton, on the other hand, was tall and thin, and could easily wear two riding cloaks, one over the other, without looking suspiciously bulky. Winifred cast a critical eye over the lady and was satisfied that no one would guess she was smuggling in a disguise.
    The sun was low in the sky as the coach pulled up alongside the Tower’s arched entrance. Weaving through the stream of Tower workers still coming and going, the women headed for William’s prison house.
    â€œPrisoners are allowed only two visitors at a time,” Winifred told them. Leaving Evans and Mrs. Mills at the foot of the stairs, she guided Miss Hilton up to William’s cell.
    The warder before William’s door straightened and stepped forward as the two women approached. Winifred knew that for their plan to work, she would have to break the Tower rules — on the night before an execution, the prisoner’s wife could visit only if she stayed with him until morning. That would ruin everything! She linked arms with Miss Hilton and strode forward, praying that the tip she had given the guard the day before had done the trick.
    On cue, Miss Hilton began to sniffle and sigh, but Winifred, in a loud voice, told her not to fear. “At this very moment the king is considering my petition for a pardon. All will be well, Mrs. Catharine!” she said, adding the lady’s first name for everyone to hear.
    Turning to the warder, she added, “I am afraid I must leave after seeing my husband tonight. I have an audience with His Majesty.”
    The warder’s face softened, and he nodded slightly as he opened the door. The other guards exchanged glances, then looked down. Her hopefulness was touching, but they knew there wasn’t much chance of a pardon.
    As soon as the door closed behind them, Miss Hilton slipped off her top riding cloak, and William tucked it out of sight. The two women waited anxiously for a few moments, and then walked out together.
    In a worried voice, Winifred called for her maid. There was no answer. She called again, and the guards turned their heads toward Winifred. As they listened to her shouts they scarcely noticed the quiet Miss Hilton slipping past and down the stairs.
    Winifred continued to cause a scene. “Pray send up my maid at once to help me dress — it is nearly time to