The Rebel Captain's Royalist Bride

‘Yes, thank you.’ Babette could scarcely conceal her flush, for she had taken enough to feed two hungry men. Aunt Minnie was certain to wonder at how much cheese and bread had gone from her shelves, though perhaps she would think it had been given to the soldiers in the barn.

Babette had been up at first light to begin the baking, and several loaves were already in the oven, waiting for her aunt to take them out. She had also made pies and tarts, which would take their turn in the oven when the bread was done. Even her uncle could not accuse her of shirking her work.

Before she began the baking, she had prepared a pot of salve and linen bandages. Besides the food, she had a sack of ale as well as a pewter bowl so that she could dip the cloth in cooling water; she would carry the water from the stream if John’s friend was still in pain and needed her attentions.

She walked quickly towards the hut in the woods, Jonas following a few steps behind. Stopping every now and then to pick something she saw in the bushes, she looked back to see if she was followed. At the stream she filled the flask she’d slung from her chatelaine. Once she heard a twig crack and waited, but then a shy deer emerged from the thicket, looked at her, sniffed the air and bounded away. Babette smiled. The red deer here were safe enough, for though they belonged to the common forest and were no one man’s property—not even in this case the King’s, as were most of the deer in the country—they were seldom hunted at this time of year. Only in the winter did the landowners kill venison for their table and they usually agreed to take only a certain number so that the stocks would flourish. Poachers were not encouraged, though occasionally Sir Matthew would complain that it was happening and sometimes an example would be made, the poacher caught and punished by hanging.

When they approached the hut, Babette looked back again, making quite certain that she had not been followed. Telling her servant to wait for her and to keep a sharp lookout, she ran towards the hut. Jonas had raised his brows at her, but he had not questioned her. Reaching the woodsman’s hut, she knocked softly and called out, then pushed open the door and entered. At once she saw that John was kneeling by the side of his friend, who was clearly ill. He cried out in his fever and threw out his arms, tears upon his face, as he called to someone called Beth.

Babette knelt beside him, placing a cool hand on his brow. He was burning hot and, as she looked at his shoulder, she saw the reason. John had removed his friend’s shirt, and his shoulder was open to the air. Where the flesh had been laid open by a sword blade the wound was red and angry, a thick yellow pus oozing from the deep gash.

‘How long has he been this way?’ she asked as she poured water into her bowl from the flask she had filled at the stream. She took linen and began to bathe the inflamed flesh, gently probing and squeezing to make the pus come away from under the hard crust that had begun to form. Her patient screamed out in agony as she did so, making John look at her.

‘Have a care, Babs. You are hurting him.’

‘I know, but the wound must be cleansed,’ she said patiently. ‘I know because I’ve seen Mama do it when one of the men sliced into his leg with a scythe. I must wash away the pus and dirt and then apply salves. I wish I had something for his fever, but I had nothing to make the mixture with. I shall gather the herbs and leaves today and tomorrow I will bring him a drink that will ease him.’

‘If he lasts the night,’ John said. ‘Lord Melbourne will be sorely distressed if his heir dies of a fever. He did not wish Drew to join the King, but there was no stopping him.’

‘He is Drew Melbourne?’ Babette looked at the man’s flushed face again and frowned. In his feverish countenance she had not recognised the young man who had once visited her home—and to whom her father had intended she be betrothed. His hair was damp and straggling, his chin unshaven and there was a scar on his left cheek. He looked much older than the man she remembered, yet he might be even more attractive if he were well. It was the heat of the fever that had given him such a high colour and his unkempt appearance that had deceived her eyes into thinking him a stranger.

‘You know of Drew?’

‘He came to the castle once when we were younger, do you recall? It was the year after Mama died and before you left.’

‘Yes, I remember, but I did not think you would, for you hardly spoke to him. He and I were out hunting most of the time and you were in mourning, shut away with your sewing most of the day.’

Babette acknowledged it was true, yet she had noticed their handsome guest and he had made her heart leap when he smiled at her once. Apart from that he had scarcely noticed her so it had come as a shock to her when Lord Harvey told her that he intended to seek a betrothal between them. She was not certain what would have happened had her father lived. He had told her that Drew’s father was a great friend of his and the betrothal had been spoken of many years ago when she was born.

‘Lady Melbourne and your mama put their heads together and planned that you two should marry, but nothing was promised. I have been lax in not arranging something before, Babette, but with your mama’s loss—and then your brother...’ Lord Harvey had sighed deeply. ‘If the young man is in agreement, I see no reason why you should not be betrothed almost at once and wed at Christ’s Mass.’

Unhappily, her father had taken ill and died long before anything was settled. Left alone at the castle until the King appointed a custodian, she had wept and waited, but Drew had not come to claim her. He did not even write to her, and Babette accepted that he did not wish to wed her. However, in her mind she had continued to think of him as the man she might have wed had her father lived long enough to arrange it—which was, of course, ridiculous.

Her patient had ceased to cry out in pain. The cooling water and the herbal mixture she had applied to his wound was easing the pain, though his fever continued to run high.

‘Beth...thank you, sweetheart,’ he murmured, a smile touching his lips. ‘I love you...’

Babette’s heart caught as she heard the words plainly. Now she understood why he had not come to claim her at the castle. He loved a girl called Beth, might even be betrothed to her. She felt a little pain about her heart, but it was soon gone for she had known that he did not wish to wed her and there was only a mild interest on her side. Had Drew wanted the match, he would have come to her after her father’s death. It did not matter, though she must eventually marry. For though her brother needed her at the castle to comfort his wife while he was away fighting, his wife would in time wish to be the mistress of her own home. It had been a pleasant dream to be the wife of the handsome Cavalier, but one she must put away from her.

‘He seems a little easier,’ her brother said. ‘You have brought us food—will you come again tomorrow?’

‘I am not sure I can get away again tomorrow,’ Babette said, knowing her aunt would think it odd if she wanted to go foraging again so soon. ‘Perhaps I could slip down to the orchard...either this evening or early in the morning.’

‘Come tonight. I shall be there when the church bells tolls the hour of nine. Did you come alone?’

‘Jonas came with me. I told him to keep a watchful eye.’

‘You can trust him,’ John said, ‘but do not tell him too much. Just say that I am alive and needed your help. The damned rebels would love to get their hands on Melbourne because he is important to the King’s cause. I cannot tell you more, but believe me, they would pay a purse of gold for what you know, Babs.’

‘I shall not betray you—either of you,’ she promised and reached up to kiss his cheek. ‘Be careful, John. Captain Colby’s men are everywhere searching for supplies. If they should discover you...’

‘I know. When Drew is able to ride we shall need a horse—but if the rebels have gone we shall come to the house and ask for help.’

‘I am not sure that is wise,’ Babette said. ‘My uncle has chosen not to fight, but I believe his persuasion to be for Parliament, though he speaks only of wanting peace.’

‘But you must return to the castle as soon as we leave. If you bring Jonas with you, you will be safe enough until we are with you. However, you must wait until Drew is better. It would not be safe for you to travel with just Jonas for company.’

‘I brought only Jonas and one other with me when I came here,’ she said. ‘Tomas Brown went off to join the King’s army. He told me what he meant to do and had my blessing—but Jonas is too old for campaigning, though he would fight if we were attacked at the castle, as all our people would.’

‘He loved my father well.’ John frowned. ‘I was sad to learn of his death. I hope our quarrel did not hasten it?’

‘Father died of a fever. He much regretted the breach and wished you home again.’

‘I offered my sword to a foreign prince to support Alice, but when the King’s nephew Prince Rupert decided to come and fight in England, I came with him.’

‘And I am glad of it, for I have been anxious for you, John. Why did you never write?’

‘I thought Father might forbid you my letters,’ he said, a little sheepish. ‘Forgive me. I dare say you were lonely—but you shall not be so, for Alice is already at the castle and waits for you impatiently.’

Babette nodded as she told her brother she longed to meet his wife and be of comfort to her. She would miss her aunt and cousin—her uncle, too, for he had been good to her in his way—but she would feel more comfortable in the castle now that Sir Matthew had invited a rebel to stay with them. She wished that she might have left immediately, but she knew she must wait until Drew was ready to travel; they needed her to bring them food and the healing cures her mother had taught her to make.

As she picked up her basket, an urgent whisper took her to the door. She opened it cautiously. Jonas stood there, looking anxious.

‘Is something wrong?’

‘I heard voices in the woods, mistress. We must go now—and tell your friends to be careful.’

‘Yes, thank you,’ she said. ‘It is John come home to fight with Prince Rupert, Jonas—and his friend is wounded.’

‘Praise the Lord my master’s son is safe, but we must leave now. If those damned rebels see us loitering here, they will wonder. We should go now—and you must pick more herbs or your lady aunt will wonder what you did here all day. I have added some fungi I saw, but I know not what it is.’

‘Thank you.’ She turned to John. ‘You heard Jonas—be prepared to defend yourself, but I shall try to draw them away if I can.’

‘Take care yourself, Sister.’

Babette nodded. She hurried away from the hut, which was sheltered by thick bushes and thorns and not easy to find unless you knew where it was situated. She moved quickly until they had put some distance behind them, then began to fill her basket with herbs, berries and the leaves she wanted to make her fever mixture. Seeing the mushroom that Jonas had added she recognised it as poisonous and was about to remove it and throw it away when a party of horsemen entered the small clearing. She recognised them at once and her heart jumped with fright. Had Jonas not heard them in time they might have happened upon him and been suspicious of why he loitered in the woods.

‘Mistress Harvey.’ Captain Colby looked down at her, his forehead creased. ‘What do you here?’

‘I have been foraging,’ Babette told him, lifting her chin. His eyes were suspicious as they centred on her, sending a thrill of fear through her—though her fear was for her brother and Drew rather than herself. ‘I was not aware that I had to ask for your permission to look for herbs in these woods.’

Captain Colby dismounted, a flash of annoyance in his face. He looked at her in such a way that she felt he suspected her of an illicit meeting of some sort. Babette raised her head proudly, challenging him with her eyes.

‘What have you in your basket?’ he asked. He blocked her path as she tried to step away. His eyes bored into her, making her heart jump. She felt his anger as cold as ice as he moved closer. She held the basket forward for him to see, and his mouth thinned.

‘What is this?’ he asked, pointing at the poisonous fungi with his finger. Now the suspicion was in his face. ‘Do not say it was picked in error, for you would not be foraging at all if you were not aware of such dangers.’ His gaze narrowed as she hesitated, seeming to become colder than ever. ‘Were you hoping to feed it to me at supper somehow? You know that one small taste makes the stomach wrench with pain and enough of this is certain death to the eater.’

Babette looked at it as she sought for an answer, but Jonas came to her rescue. ‘I picked it, thinking it good to eat. My mistress did not see me place it in the basket.’