The Rebel Captain's Royalist Bride

‘A custom I am unused to,’ he murmured softly. ‘In my house a gentleman stands for a lady.’

Babette smiled. ‘As in my father’s house, but we are all equal in the sight of the Lord—so my uncle says.’

‘Yes. While I agree, there are differences...’

In her heart Babette knew that her father and brother would agree with him, but here in this house they lived by Sir Matthew’s rules. She arched her brows at him as if to imply she disapproved of his sentiments, but knew she did it only because she had to protect herself from him. His chivalry and charm must not be allowed to breech her defences. No matter if she liked his smile, he was an enemy of all that she believed in. She must always be on her guard.

Now why did she feel she needed protection from him? He was a gentleman and a guest in her uncle’s house. She was certain he would not abuse Sir Matthew’s hospitality—so why did she feel she needed to keep a barrier between them?

* * *

Babette was relieved when at last her aunt signalled that they were to clear the dishes to the kitchen and leave the men to talk business over their ale. Babette carried a loaded tray to the door. Usually, she set it down on a small table, but before she could do so Captain Colby had opened the door for her, holding it as she and then Maria passed through. She gave him a small smile and a faint shake of her head, but his expression did not change and he continued to hold the door as her aunt followed with another loaded tray.

Babette was already at the sink, beginning to pour a kettle filled with hot water over the greasy plates. She added a liquid soap her aunt made herself and was about to start washing dishes when her aunt stopped her.

‘Let Maria do that, Babette. You do not want to make your hands red. Captain Colby might notice and he treats you as a lady, as I suppose you are.’ Aunt Minnie was looking faintly troubled. ‘When you came here your uncle expected you to live as we do, Babette—but your father was Lord Harvey and perhaps I was wrong to allow it.’

‘Do not be foolish, dearest Aunt,’ Babette said. ‘I like to help you. Pray ignore Captain Colby. His manners are good, but while I am in your home I do not consider myself above you or my uncle.’

‘Your uncle’s views are not shared by everyone,’ Aunt Minnie said. ‘You will leave the dishes to Maria, please, and return to the parlour. You may sit and sew and listen to the gentlemen talk.’

‘And leave all the work to you and Maria?’ Babette frowned. ‘No, certainly not. If I may not wash the dishes, I shall dry them and put them away. It is you who should be sitting in the parlour with my uncle and his guest.’

Aunt Minnie looked at her doubtfully. ‘Captain Colby...’ She sighed and shook her head. ‘I would not wish to spoil your chances of a good marriage, Babette. My sister looked much higher than I and found herself a rich lord. Matthew was enough for me, but I was never as beautiful as your mama, dearest.’

Babette acknowledged that her aunt was homely rather than beautiful, but she was a kind, gentle lady and she was angry that the rebel captain had put such doubts into her mind.

‘You need not concern yourself on my account, Aunt. I would never marry a rebel—and I do not care for Captain Colby. I find him arrogant and...’ Her words died on her lips as the door opened and she saw him standing there. He had carried Greta’s tray for her, perhaps considering it too heavy for the elderly servant.

While Babette’s cheeks burned, for he could not have failed to hear her comment, Lady Graham bustled forward, begging him to set down the tray and return to the parlour.

‘You should not, sir. It is not a gentleman’s place to carry for a servant.’

‘She is also a woman and elderly. She looked to be in need of help, so I offered. I beg you, do not scold Greta, ma’am.’

‘No, I shall not,’ she said and looked flustered. ‘But I beg you not to tarry. You must have more important things... Sir Matthew will want to discuss your business...’

‘I shall not keep him waiting a moment longer.’ Captain Colby glanced at Babette, his eyes so cold and icy that she knew he’d heard her and was angry. He inclined his head, his silence speaking volumes as he left them.

‘Do you think he heard what you said?’

Babette raised her head as she answered her aunt, ‘I care not what he heard. He means nothing to me nor ever could.’

‘He lives in a much bigger house than ours,’ Aunt Minnie said. ‘I believe his family to be wealthy—and they have been influential at court in the past. I must confess I was surprised to see that he was one of the...one of the Parliament men. I had thought he would offer his sword to the King.’

‘He says his Majesty is unjust and must come to terms with his Parliament and rule by consent of the people.’

‘Yes, in that I cannot fault him. But the King is...’ She shook her head and sighed. ‘We must not worry our heads over such things, my love. Your uncle knows what is best and we must abide by his wishes.’

Aunt Minnie was so submissive to her husband’s wishes, never venturing a contrary opinion, at least in Babette’s hearing. If every woman was expected to behave so meekly, perhaps Babette would do well to remain unwed.

She sighed inwardly as she finished stacking the dried dishes, then struck a tinder and lit a taper, holding it to her chamberstick.

‘I shall retire for the night, Aunt.’

‘It is early yet,’ Aunt Minnie said. ‘Why do you not sit in the parlour and listen to your uncle and his guest? Sir Matthew will expect it.’

‘Pray tell my uncle I have the headache and ask him to forgive me,’ Babette said. She kissed her aunt’s cheek and picked up her chamberstick, leaving the kitchen before Aunt Minnie could object.

* * *

Alone in her room, Babette went to sit on the deep windowsill and look out at the night. It was a clear, still night and over-warm, the room so stuffy that she opened the casement to catch a breath of air. As she did so, she caught sight of something in the bushes. Her room overlooked the kitchen gardens, and she was not sure whether she’d seen a man’s figure or not. Was it one of the servants—or perhaps one of Captain Colby’s men?

‘Babette—is that you?’

The sibilant whisper was just beneath her window. She leaned forward and saw the man hiding behind the water butt. Immediately, her heart caught with fright and then started thumping madly as she saw who it was.

‘John—is that you?’ she called. ‘Is it truly you come home?’

‘Shush,’ the voice said in a harsh whisper. ‘I’ve seen horses—they belong to the rebels we’ve been following. Are they in the house?’

‘Yes, their captain is,’ she said, leaning out of her window to look down at him. ‘His men are in the barn—nearly twenty of them. If you are for the King, you must be careful.’

‘Can you help us? We need food and water—and a horse. Drew’s was shot from under him and he has a wound himself.’

‘Do you recall when we stayed here once as children?’

‘Yes...’ John sounded hesitant, then, ‘The hut we played in, in the woods—is it still there?’

‘Take your friend there,’ Babette said. ‘I will go down as soon as the others have retired and bring you food and ale.’

‘Can you not come down now?’

‘I shall try,’ she said. ‘Hide in the shrubbery and I will see if I can find anything left from supper.’

Blowing out her chamberstick, Babette left her chamber and crept back down the stairs to the kitchen. She listened for a moment then, deciding it was quiet, went in. Aunt Minnie must have sent the servants to bed or perhaps on an errand, and she herself was probably in the parlour.

Seeing the remains of a loaf, a heel of cheese and the remainder of a quince tart she’d made, she gathered them into a muslin bag, then picked up a quartern pot of ale and approached the back door. She found it locked and was in the act of turning the key when the door opened and Greta entered.

‘Where be you going, Mistress Babette?’

‘I need a little air, my head aches...’ Babette saw her looking at the food. ‘I’m hungry. I couldn’t eat at table. Please do not tell my aunt.’

Greta smiled, revealing her toothless grin. She went to the table and picked up a slice of pie. ‘I shan’t tell if you don’t...’ she cackled and, tucking the pie into her apron pocket, she went back into the hall.

Babette smiled to herself as she left the house and began to walk towards the shrubbery. That was not the first time Greta had returned to the kitchen to steal an extra slice of pie when her mistress was otherwise engaged. Aunt Minnie knew she did it and laughed to Babette, for as she said she did not grudge her servants their food and the old woman might have asked for it, but preferred to raid the kitchen when others were in bed.

Reaching the spot where she’d seen her brother hide, Babette was about to call out when she felt herself caught from behind and a hand went over her mouth.