Читать книгу The Rebel Captain's Royalist Bride - Anne Herries - Страница 9

Chapter One

Babette was in the orchard, pulling ripe plums, when she caught sight of a small party of horsemen riding towards her uncle’s house. Calling to her cousin, Angelina, and their servant, Jonas, to follow, she picked up her basket and walked hastily through the orchard to the kitchen gardens of the modest manor house. She’d seen the figures outlined against the ridge of the hill some distance away and was not sure whether the soldiers were Royalist or Parliament men.

‘Aunt Minnie,’ she cried, ‘there is a party of horsemen riding fast towards us. I do not know whether they be Cavaliers or rebels. Where is my uncle?’

‘Sir Matthew has gone down to the long field. They are cutting the wheat today. Had you forgot?’

In her haste to return and warn her family, Babette had completely forgotten that her uncle had decided to set the men to cutting his wheat. Because Sir Matthew Graham had not chosen to fight when King Charles set up his standard, some of his neighbours suspected him of being for Parliament and the Royalists amongst them eyed the family suspiciously when they attended church.

It was everywhere the same in a country torn by civil war. The quarrel betwixt King Charles and his Parliament had blown up suddenly the previous year, seemingly out of nowhere, except that Aunt Minnie’s second cousin, Henry Crawford—who was close to his Majesty—said that the trouble had been brewing beneath the surface for a long time. When the King tried to arrest five members of Parliament only to discover the men he considered traitors had been warned and fled, he decided that only a war could bring these unruly men to heel.

‘Whatever shall we do?’ Babette’s aunt asked, looking flustered. She wiped her hands on her apron. ‘Should we lock the doors against them or welcome them as friends?’

‘It depends who they are and what they want,’ Babette said, though in truth she was not sure which side her uncle would choose if forced to take sides. Babette knew her own heart, but for the moment she kept her silence. ‘I think Jonas should go to my uncle with all speed and tell him that visitors are on their way.’

Aunt Minnie agreed and Jonas was told to saddle the old grey cob, which was the only horse not already in use in the fields, and ride to alert his master.

‘Will they kill us all, Mama?’ Angelina asked, looking frightened.

‘God have mercy, child! I hope not,’ Lady Graham replied, but her face was pale, and she looked at her only daughter anxiously. ‘We must lock all the doors, Babette. Maria! Alert the other servants. Close all the doors and windows. We shall not open them until Sir Matthew comes home to tell us what to do.’

Babette hurriedly locked and barred the kitchen door. Three ladies alone in the house, apart from a few female servants, could not be too careful and all the men were in the fields.

Her heart was beating rapidly as she went through the house, checking windows and doors. For herself Babette hoped that the visitors would be Cavaliers and be able to give them news of how the war went for King Charles. She had no doubts where her loyalty lay. Her beloved father would have offered his sword to the King had he not died of a virulent fever the previous winter.

Lord Harvey had been failing since his beloved wife’s death three years previously, followed a year later by the disappearance of his son, John. John, who was now Lord Harvey—unless already dead—had left the house in a rage, having quarrelled with his father over a young woman.

Since the young woman in question had also disappeared that same night it was presumed that they had run off together. John did not know of his father’s death because no one had any idea of his whereabouts to let him know the sad news.

Babette had cried herself to sleep on many nights, wondering if the brother she’d adored still lived. Alone in the castle, she’d written tearfully to her mother’s sister and been invited to come and stay with her aunt and uncle for as long as she wished.

They were a kindly couple, though Babette thought her uncle rather sombre at times. Aunt Minnie seemed a little in awe of him, always reluctant to speak on any subject unless Sir Matthew had made his feelings known. They had one son, Robert, who was presently away at college.

Robert was studying with a view to entering the church. His father had a living in his gift and would bestow it on his son when the present incumbent retired in a year or so, once Robert had taken his vows. Angelina was but fourteen, three years and some months younger than Babette.

The castle of Haverston was currently being held for the King by the Earl of Carlton, a distant cousin of Babette’s father. His Majesty had appointed him custodian of Lord Harvey’s estate and Babette’s own fortune, until she came of age and it was established whether John was alive or dead.

Babette had come to her aunt because she was lonely, but glancing down into the courtyard as a party of some fifteen or twenty men rode in, her heart caught. In that moment she almost wished she was safe in the castle, but then scolded herself for being a coward. They were but men after all, even though she thought, from their dress, they were too sober to be Cavaliers. A man in a dark coat and grey breeches seemed to be at their head, but he was wearing a hat with a wide brim and she was unable to see his face.

Having ensured that all the windows and doors were shut, Babette ran quickly down the stairs as someone knocked at the door. The knocking was loud and insistent, reverberating through the house. The servants had huddled together looking scared, and Aunt Minnie was holding Angelina’s hand. Babette saw that her cousin was crying and went to her, putting an arm about her shoulder.

‘They will not harm you,’ she whispered. ‘I dare say they have come for food and supplies.’

‘Open this door in the name of Parliament,’ a stern voice said. ‘I had not expected this from Sir Matthew Graham. We come to ask for help, not as an enemy.’

Aunt Minnie’s brow creased, a puzzled look in her eyes. ‘I think I know that voice,’ she said doubtfully. ‘It may be your uncle’s second cousin on his mother’s side...Sir James Colby...’

‘Should I ask him what he wants of us?’

Babette’s aunt hesitated, but Babette did not wait. Going to the door, she called out in a loud voice, asking their visitor to give his name and state his business.

‘We barred our doors, for we did not know who you were, sir,’ she said. ‘We are a house of women and dare not admit strangers in such fearful times.’

‘Is that Lady Graham?’

‘No, her niece, Mistress Harvey.’

‘I am second cousin to Sir Matthew—and I come in friendship. My name is James Colby.’

‘Open the door,’ Aunt Minnie said, looking relieved. ‘Sir James may enter, but his men must remain outside until my husband returns.’

Babette lifted the bar cautiously, peeping round the door. Her first glimpse was of a tall, commanding figure. The stranger had removed his hat, and she could see that he was dark-haired with eyes of grey, a firm hard chin and a mouth that at this moment looked stern and angry.

‘My aunt says she will admit you, sir, but your men must remain outside until my uncle returns.’

‘They are tired and weary from the road, lady,’ Sir James said with a sigh, his eyes narrowed and his manner harsh. ‘It seems that this is Royalist territory, but I thought we would receive a better welcome from my cousin’s house.’

Babette pushed a lock of pale hair back beneath the modest cap she was wearing. Despite his expression, she decided that the stranger looked more weary than dangerous and stood back to allow him to enter. Sympathy was in her voice as she said, ‘If your men would care to go inside the barn and rest, I am sure we could send food and refreshments to them, sir.’

‘Thank you, mistress,’ Sir James said. His gaze focused on her for the first time and he made a jerky movement with his hand; for a moment the expression in his eyes made her fear, for it was such a strange, intense look he gave her, a flame deep in his eyes—but then he smiled. When he smiled it was as if he were a different man, his eyes almost silver and lit from within.

Babette’s heart caught oddly, because his smile was most pleasant, even though he had confessed himself for Parliament and was therefore her enemy. He turned and directed his men towards the barn, and they dismounted leading their horses towards the shelter it offered.

‘Sir James, forgive us,’ Aunt Minnie said, coming forward. ‘Sir Matthew has gone down to the long field to cut the wheat and most of the servants are with him. We were afraid of so large a party of men coming to the house and locked our doors. Will you not step into the parlour, sir? We shall give you food and drink, and my husband will be here shortly to speak with you himself.’

‘Yes, thank you kindly, Lady Graham.’ He had taken off his hat now, and Babette saw that his hair was longer than the style adopted by many of those who had joined the ranks of Parliament and were known as Puritans, because of their strict views on religion and private life. His clothes were of a sober hue, dark grey with a sash of yellow across his chest, a leather belt, which held a plain scabbard and his sword, gloves of buff leather and long black boots. His collar was white linen with a small edging of embroidery. Most men of the Puritan persuasion allowed themselves no ornament of any kind, perhaps to set themselves aside from the Cavaliers who delighted in finery and the latest fal-lals.

Hurrying to the kitchen, Babette spoke to Maria, arranging for food and drink to be carried to the men outside. She poured ale into a pewter jug, set fresh bread, a small crock of butter, cheese, a cold chop of pig meat and a bowl of her aunt’s best pickles upon a tray, adding a slice of apple pie with cinnamon she’d made earlier that morning. Carrying it into the parlour where her aunt was still speaking with Sir Matthew’s cousin, she set it down on the table.

His gaze went appreciatively over the food offered. ‘You have been most generous, mistress. I thank you for your kindness. My men will be grateful for whatever you have. We have ridden for several days, finding food where we could. Since we encountered the enemy in a skirmish some days ago, we have been without some of our baggage. Some householders have been kind enough, but others made it clear we were not welcome.’

‘We are at war, sir, and not everyone is of your persuasion. Some would feel you are rebels—traitors.’ Babette had spoken without thinking and she saw the flash of fire in his eyes. She saw a nerve flick at his temple and his hands clenched. He was clearly angry, though he struggled to control it.

‘The King is the traitor to his country,’ he said harshly. ‘It was he that imposed the tax of ship money on us, he that imposed the iniquitous Star Chamber—and he that tried to arrest the five members.’

‘He tried to arrest them because they defied their King,’ she replied, angry in her turn. Her head went up, and, had she known it, her eyes flashed in temper. ‘If the King needs money for a war and the Parliament will not grant it, he must impose taxes whether they be popular or not...’ She faltered as she saw the leap of answering fury in his eyes, then, aware that she had pushed him too far, said more hesitantly, ‘That was my father’s opinion...’

‘Then he would be for the King,’ Sir James said. ‘I had thought this household for Parliament—am I wrong?’

‘Take no notice of Babette,’ Aunt Minnie said soothingly. ‘She is but a girl and talks of what she does not understand. Sir Matthew, like many others, does not take one side or the other, sir, but hopes only for peace—though he will tell you himself, for here he comes.’

She breathed a sigh of relief as her husband walked in and pushed Babette before her from the room. Only when in the kitchen did she speak to her niece.

‘You should be more careful, Niece. I know your father was a true Royalist and that may be your persuasion, as it may be mine, but we must keep silent, especially when there are men of another persuasion in the house, dearest.’

‘Yes, forgive me, Aunt. I should not have spoken so to a guest, even if I was angered by his views. It was rude and immodest of me.’

‘Your uncle might think it immodest and perhaps Sir James might find you impertinent, but I do not blame you—though I caution you not to speak so frankly before your uncle.’

‘Forgive me. I do not know what made me lose my temper.’

Yet she knew only too well. It was the man with the eyes of cold steel who looked at her so arrogantly that she had wanted to strike him and had spoken thoughtlessly.

‘You are entitled to your own views, Babette—but it is best not to speak them in Sir Matthew’s house.’

‘Is my uncle of their persuasion, Aunt?’

‘I would not say that he was for Parliament. Sir Matthew is against any war that sets brother against brother and father against son. He cares for his land and would see it prosper. War is dangerous, Babette. Tempers rise and terrible things are said and done. As yet we have lived quietly here—but for how long can it continue? This is the first time soldiers have come to our door and they came in peace—but others may demand where Sir James requests. I think it will not be long before the whole country is aflame and then we shall all have to choose one way or the other.’

‘Yes, I know, Aunt.’ Babette was thoughtful. Her uncle had said little about the outcome of the first battle of the war at Edge Hill. The matter of who had won depended on whose side you supported, for some declared that it was a victory for the King, while others thought the men of Parliament might have won a decisive victory had they held on a little longer. In the months since that first battle there had been only minor skirmishes, indecisive clashes that had no real significance, small troops of opposing forces that met and fought. It had mainly been a time of recouping on both sides, of drawing lines and discovering who was your friend and who your enemy. ‘I know the castle of Haverston still stands for the King, but some houses are not as well defended and have fallen to the rebels.’

‘You ought not to name them so,’ her aunt chided her gently. ‘It shows your loyalty and may make you enemies. Sir Matthew has been careful not to choose sides publicly, though I think perhaps he may be drawn more to the side of Parliament, for he says they are the voice of the people.’

‘Surely his Majesty speaks for the people?’ Babette was puzzled. ‘Does the King not rule by divine right?’

‘It is certainly the King’s opinion and that of his followers,’ her aunt replied, ‘but I am not sure. Your uncle is not against the King. Far from it—but he would have his Majesty rule by the consent of the people.’ Lady Graham sighed. ‘Yes, I know, dearest, it is a puzzle to me, too. I know not what to think.’

Babette made no reply. Her uncle was a studious man and he often lectured them about theology and, it seemed, the rights of kings—at least he had confided these views to his wife.

She could not know whether her uncle was right or wrong. Certainly, she agreed with him that war was unfortunate. She’d heard that in some parts of the country marauding soldiers of either persuasion had commandeered grain, cattle and horses, leaving the owners without payment and in fear of their lives. Some who had fought for their possessions were left wounded or dying; it was indeed a bitter conflict that turned families against one another and set neighbours at war with each other.

‘I shall try to be careful, Aunt,’ she promised, ‘for I do not wish to bring trouble upon you and your family.’

‘I know that, dearest,’ Lady Graham said. ‘You have been a joy to me since you came here. Your cousin is still a young girl, though she does not like it to be said. I have found your company comforting, and you have helped me in so many ways. I should be loath to part from you—if your uncle decided that it was not suitable for you to remain here.’

It was the implication, the words left unsaid, that shocked her.

Would her uncle banish her to the castle? Babette’s heart sank. She much preferred life in this comfortable manor house to that in the bleak and often icy cold castle. The discomfort had never bothered her when her parents lived and her brother was at home, but without them it had become a lonely place indeed and she had no wish to return. Her days had been busy at the castle, but the nights were long and gave her too much time to remember and regret. She would take her aunt’s warning seriously and watch her tongue, especially when her uncle was near.

Babette wondered if the Parliament man would complain of her to his cousin. As she helped Aunt Minnie wash and preserve the plums she’d picked earlier in the huge iron pan of sugar syrup, she contemplated the idea of being banished to her home. She would miss her aunt and her cousin very much. Hearing the heavy tread of her uncle’s step, she tensed, fearing his anger. However, when he entered the kitchen he was smiling.

‘Ah, there you are, Babette,’ he said, ‘helping your aunt like the good girl you are. Would you take more ale to the parlour, please? I have invited Sir James to stay with us for a few days. His men are on a mission to purchase cattle and horses and I have told him that I will help him, though I will not have my neighbours robbed.’

‘Will they sell to Parliament forces?’ Babette said and wished she had not as she saw her uncle frown. ‘Forgive me, Uncle. It is not my place to question.’

‘It was a pertinent question, Niece,’ he said and sighed heavily. ‘Because of our relationship, Sir James is willing to bargain for what he wants—though I fear that others may not be so nice. Both sides are taking what they want, Babette. If we wish to survive and see our neighbours prosper as we do ourselves, we must tread carefully.’

‘Yes, sir. I understand that,’ she replied. Her uncle was sometimes stern and sombre, but she saw that he was a good man at heart. He had not chosen to fight and some might look askance at him for that, but she knew that all he wished for was a quiet life in which to nurture his land, care for his family and be on good terms with his neighbours—but for how long would he be allowed to live as he preferred?

Babette picked up a jug of ale and went back to the parlour, hearing her aunt and uncle begin to talk in low voices as she closed the door. She’d feared that their visitor might have complained of her, but it was obvious that he had not for her uncle was not cross with her. He was generous at times, but also superstitious and often stern. He would have no mistletoe or greenery in the house at Christmas for it was a pagan custom and, he said, a tool of the Devil, the custom of kissing beneath a bough immodest.

Sir James was standing by the window, looking out into the garden as she approached. His view was of a small courtyard garden set with flowers of all kinds: damask roses, daisies, the remains of the gillyflowers, lilies and sweet-scented stocks, which were fodder for the bees that lived in their hives and supplied them with wonderful honey.

‘Your ale, sir.’ Babette set down her tray and was about to move away when he turned and looked at her. For a moment she was shocked by the haunted expression in his eyes and once again her heart caught. He looked so grief-stricken and for a moment she saw a different man. What could have caused that look?

‘Who tends your garden, mistress?’

‘I do most of it, though Jonas helps me when I need some heavy digging.’

‘Your hives do well?’

‘Yes, sir. Very well.’ She poured some ale into his cup, noticing that he had eaten most of the food she’d brought for him. ‘Have you eaten sufficient?’

‘Quite sufficient, mistress. My compliments to your aunt—that apple pie was delicious.’

‘I made it...’ Babette said and then blushed, for he would think she was asking for praise. ‘My mother taught me. She was a wonderful cook—and my aunt likes me to make pies for her.’

‘I see...’ There was a faint smile in his eyes now. ‘Is your mother dead, mistress?’

‘Yes, sir, these three years past of a fever.’

‘And your father?’

‘He died last year. I came to live here with my aunt because it was lonely without them.’

‘Sir Matthew tells me that your brother is Lord Harvey—but none knows if he lives?’ Sir James looked at her curiously. ‘Is your uncle your guardian?’

‘Nay, sir. His Majesty appointed the Earl of Carlton the custodian of the castle and my portion. I suppose either he or the King himself would be my guardian until my brother can be traced.’

‘Ah...’ He nodded, frowning again. ‘So that is where your Royalist persuasion came from. I thought it odd, for my cousin is surely of a different persuasion, even though he chooses not to take up arms.’

His eyes were cold as they went over her and yet a fire seemed to leap at their heart. Babette’s stomach clenched, for this man affected her more than she cared to admit. He was arrogant and an enemy, and this feeling in her stomach must be fear, though she was not usually so easily intimidated. Yet what else could cause her to tremble inwardly?

Babette set her lips primly. It was not for her to say why her uncle had not chosen for one side or the other. Her uncle’s views were his and he had no doubt made as much known to his cousin as he wished.

‘You are not betrothed?’ Sir James asked, bringing a betraying flush to her cheeks. ‘Your uncle said it had not yet been thought of.’

‘I see no reason why you should wish to know that,’ Babette said, raised to a quick anger by his impertinence. He had no right to question her on such a subject. ‘My father was to have arranged a betrothal just before he died—to Andrew Melbourne.’

‘Lord Melbourne’s son?’ His gaze narrowed. ‘Drew is my cousin once removed. I descended through the female line, but one of my ancestors was a Melbourne—her name was Catherine. Drew was once my good friend, but we have not spoken since before the Battle of Edge Hill. I regret the breach, for we were once good friends, but it was inevitable.’

‘Drew is for the King, of course.’ Babette’s head went up, her stance certain and proud.

‘Yes.’ Sir James looked at her, a brooding expression in his eyes. ‘Have you heard from him since your father died?’

‘No.’ Babette licked her lips nervously. It was one of the reasons she had cried herself to sleep each night before she came here. Although she had only met the handsome young man once, she had been excited by the thought of marrying him. She had thought he would come to the castle to claim her when he heard of her father’s death, but he had not. Indeed, she’d heard nothing of him since that date and supposed that he considered himself free to marry where he chose, since the betrothal had not actually happened.

‘I thought not,’ James said, a strange look in his eyes. She thought that he had more to say, but withheld it for some reason of his own. If he had news of Drew, in his arrogance he would not tell her. ‘Thank you for your ale, mistress. Your uncle has said that I may use the blue chamber while we stay here. I trust my presence in the house will not cause you sleepless nights?’

‘Should it?’ She frowned at him, annoyed that she had told him more than she’d intended of her life. He was an enemy and nothing to her, nor could he ever be. ‘I see no reason why your presence should make any difference to my life.’

‘Indeed, it should not,’ he replied, a smile playing across his mouth. She wondered why her eyes were drawn to his mouth. It was not as if he was likely to kiss her. Why had that thought entered her mind? Babette was horrified. She did not wish any man to kiss her unless he was her husband—and she certainly would not wish to marry a Puritan, though perhaps this man was more a soldier than a man of religious fervour.

This was ridiculous! Her heart was racing wildly and her cheeks burned as the foolish thoughts chased through her mind.

Babette withdrew her eyes hurriedly, collecting the empty plates and jug on to her tray. She picked it up and left before he could speak again. He had gone back to his contemplation of the garden and she sensed a heaviness in his mood that intrigued her.

Why should the contemplation of her garden make him sad? She was sure that he hid a secret sorrow behind that mask of indifference but could not imagine what it was—or why her garden should remind him.

* * *

James continued to gaze into the garden after the girl had left him. His mind was confused, for on first seeing her something had arrested his speech, suspending his thought for an instant that seemed like an aeon of time, and taking his breath. What it was about the young woman that should render him so he could not tell. He had believed he could never feel any true human emotion again, certainly not the softer feelings that he’d known when his sweet Jane was alive.

Surely he could not be attracted to a woman he had met only this day? No, it was foolish, ridiculous...a betrayal of Jane. And yet there had been something the moment he saw her, and, as he’d watched her working, his first feeling had not been reversed that here was a remarkable young woman.

A woman who might help him to live again, perhaps?

Even as the thought entered his mind, he crushed it ruthlessly, a wave of such intense grief sweeping through him that he gasped. What a rogue he was to contemplate caring for a woman when his beloved lay in her grave.

‘Forgive me, Jane,’ he whispered. ‘I shall never love any other woman, for you were my heart and my soul.’

In time he might marry, for a man could not live his life alone, but he would choose a widow who wanted only a home and comfort. He could not give more...even to the girl whose eyes had seemed to pierce the shield he had built to shut out his grief and despair.