Royalist On The Run

Edward had paled, the flesh drawn tight over his cheekbones. Her words created an agony inside him. He wanted to comfort her, to hold her, to say her name, for the thought of her suffering made him wish he hadn’t acted so foolishly over Anne and left her so brutally. ‘I would not have done that.’

‘How can you know how you would have behaved?’ she cried, the pain in her unconcealed. ‘Men make fools of themselves over beautiful women all the time. Anne Lister could not bear not being the centre of attention. Every man had to look at her. All she had to do was cast her eyes at you and you were ensnared.’

He shook his head. ‘Arabella, listen to me.’ Reaching out, he gripped her shoulders and stared down into her face before he went on. ‘With every beat of my heart I regret what I did. I know that you’ve had double your share of troubles for your years. But believe me, I would never wish you harm. Sometimes I can’t help wishing I could go back and do things differently—but then I wouldn’t have Dickon. We cannot change the past.’

She shook his hands from her shoulders and took a step back. ‘I know.’

‘I hurt you. I see that.’

‘I cannot pretend that I wasn’t hurt. I was—very much,’ she said, a sliver of remembered pain spearing her.

‘When I arrived at Bircot Hall and saw you, I was taken aback by how much you have changed. I know I have changed, but I hadn’t expected you to change, too.’

What he said was true. He still had the face of a man in his prime, but the careless good humour had gone from his eyes. They were wary now, with a certain hardness and seriousness in their depths. The change was brought about by all he had seen and done in the long years of war.

‘But I have, in many ways,’ Arabella said. ‘When you left me I thought I would not recover. But I did. I was well and alive. I was determined to put it behind me—I thought of myself as a phoenix, risen from the ashes. Then I was lucky—at least, that was how I thought it was at the time. I met John and I had a child, only to lose them both.’

Tentatively Edward moved a little closer to her, but she stepped back, determined to keep her distance. He could almost feel the tension of her body. Her stillness was a positive force, like that of an animal poised for flight. One false move and he would lose her. He could read nothing on her closed face. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed, but apart from this she was watchful and utterly still.

‘I realise I might have caused you trouble coming here. Believe me, I would not have done so had there been an alternative. When I heard my property was to be confiscated, concerned about my son and despite the risk of capture, I went to London. I found Dickon alone in the house with the servants.’

‘You told me your estate in Oxfordshire has been confiscated.’

He nodded. ‘No doubt the house in London will have been seized by now. All activists have had their estates confiscated. As you know, since Parliament came to power, all lands granted by the King to landlords are now illegal and the laws set by King William have been removed.’

‘And what is to happen to the land that has been taken?’

‘It will be returned to the people. That is what the Commonwealth means—a common wealth for all. Everything of value that I owned went to fund the Royalist cause. This war has made a pauper of me.’

‘This war has made paupers of us all,’ Arabella uttered bitterly.

‘It will be returned when the King comes into his own.’

‘If the King comes into his own. I am not optimistic about that. From what we have heard, few are prepared to join the royal standard. The King, after all, is at the head of a band of Presbyterians. If anything, the patriotic revulsion of the English against the Scots has increased.’

‘You are right, Arabella. But it is a cause I will die fighting for if necessary.’

‘So, with nowhere else to turn, you thought you would bring your son here.’

‘Anne’s brother was in London. It was only a matter of time before he came and seized the child. Before he fled London, knowing my situation, your brother suggested I bring him here, to you. I understand your reluctance to agree to look after Dickon for me, but there is nowhere else I can take him. Will you do it?’ He saw the indecision on her face before she turned to gaze down into the fire.

She turned from him, but not before he had seen a flicker of pain in the depths of her lovely eyes before she looked away. ‘You ask too much of me, Edward. It is too much responsibility.’

‘Come, Arabella. You have just held him in your arms. How can you refuse me this?’ he persisted. ‘Have the courage to help me—or else you are not the woman—’

Spinning round, her face was set stubbornly, the light in her eyes fierce. ‘Your meaning does not escape me. You were about to say I am not the woman you thought I was. If I refuse to do as you ask—which is a perfectly natural thing considering your betrayal—you will think ill of me.’ She shrugged. ‘If you do, why should I care? For too long I have known you do not see me in an attractive light.’

‘That is not true. You are one of the finest people I know. You know my decision to renounce our betrothal was because of my foolish infatuation with Anne, rather than anything to do with you.’ His hand came up to touch her tumbled hair, then he drew a caressing finger down her cheek. Feeling her flinch from his touch, he dropped his arm. ‘I wronged you. At the time I was too stubborn to admit my error. I am asking for your forgiveness, for I know well that you must hate me and in all fairness I cannot blame you. I blame myself—more than you or anybody else possibly could. I’ll never stop blaming myself until the day I die. Which is why, perhaps, it’s so important to me that you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I have grief enough, Arabella. I am saying that I hold you in the highest regard and that my feelings for you may surprise you. Laugh if you will and that will be my punishment. But it is true.’

Arabella’s look was scornful. ‘Please do not make any declarations of devotion that do not exist. It would be an embarrassment to us both, so pray do not continue with this jest. Considering what has gone before, I consider it to be in bad taste.’

‘It is no jest. A thousand times or more I have cursed myself for a fool for ending our betrothal,’ he said softly, his eyes holding hers, full of contrition. ‘Don’t hold it against me. I can’t change what I did and, if it’s any satisfaction to you, I’m paying the price for it. What I did was impetuous and cruel.’

She stared at him, her eyes telling him that she was unable to believe what he was saying. Surely she could hear the truth of his words in his voice? But he could see she refused to be moved by his words. Forgiveness did not come easily to her and in truth he could not blame her. She stepped away from him.

‘Yes, it was, but I have no wish to revisit the past. Do you forget why you are here? You came here to ask me to take care of your son.’

‘And what have you decided?’ Edward tried to keep calm as he waited for her answer, yet the vein in his right temple beat hard against his skin. Arabella had captured his senses without even trying. His interest she had already stirred, but interest turned to intrigue with startling ease. For the first time in months—perhaps years—a feeling other than anger at the war preoccupied him. It was strong, alive and it touched him in a primeval way. He never swayed from winning his desire. Where women were concerned he was patient and the most determined. He deeply regretted the years they had been apart and felt a need to be with her.

‘Very well.’ She sighed, surrendering unconditionally. ‘I will do it.’

Relief washed over him. ‘Thank you. I cannot tell you how grateful I am—what it means to me knowing he will be safe.’

‘I think I can imagine.’ She looked at him, hardening herself. ‘But I still don’t understand why you feel you have to risk life and limb to continue fighting for a cause which by all reports is lost. Why, Edward? Is it that you enjoy the fighting so much that you leave your son with strangers instead of taking him to France to keep him safe? What if anything should happen to you? If I need to take Dickon to your sister in France, how will I know where to find her?’

Reaching inside his jacket, he produced a sealed letter and handed it to her, preferring to leave her questions unanswered. ‘I have written everything down. It is my hope there will be no more fighting and I shall return, in which case I shall take him away with me.’

‘And Joan? Is she to remain with him?’

‘Dickon is attached to Joan, but it is only fair to tell you that she came with me unwillingly. She has family in Bath. Do not be surprised if she leaves to go to them.’

‘I see. That is entirely up to her, but I hope she doesn’t. I would be glad of her help.’ She looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘The hour is late. It is after eleven. It has been a long day. I must go to bed.’ She walked to the door. He followed her.

‘Goodnight, Arabella. I trust you will have a restful night.’

For some reason he could not fathom, he reached for her hand and pressed a kiss on her fingers. A subtle gasp, barely a whisper, passed her lips and he smiled into her eyes.

* * *

Arabella turned and left him then. He was watching her go, this she knew. His eyes were so very compelling that she wanted to turn and look back at him, but she forced herself to carry on walking. His fingers, firm and warm, had squeezed her hand gently, as if for comfort. Suddenly she had been intensely aware of him, his body, his warmth, the scent of him. Something had flooded through her—desire, she thought, quickening her breath, heating her blood.

A terrible, unfamiliar heaviness rested in her heart as she returned to her chamber. She undressed and climbed into bed and, because she was so weary, she managed to sleep a few hours, but, on waking, she could not stop turning over in her mind the events of the previous night and the changes Edward’s arrival had brought to her life. How could she have agreed to take care of his son? But when he had asked her, when he had waited for her to answer, there had been a challenge in his voice, in his eyes as well.

Nor could she deny that the sensations that had stirred within as he pressed his lips to her fingers had been alarming indeed. When he had entered the room and caught her holding his son, she had tried to ignore the nearness of him, the smell of him, the feelings and emotions that had been overwhelming despite all her efforts to stem them.

When she was young, she had been in awe of the man her parents had told her she would marry. She had also been almost afraid of the force and sheer power in him. Everything about him had been larger than life and she had thought marrying him would be the equivalent of riding into battle on a spirited, powerful horse.

She had been deeply hurt and humiliated when he had discarded her and made up her mind to forget him. But he was not an easy man to forget. When he had entered the house with that enormous pride, and thrust himself back into her life, she’d known that same sense of reckless excitement she’d experienced all those years ago.

By coming to Bircot Hall he had brought disruption to her life. She was resolute in her determination that not until she had been reassured of his benevolence would she grant him her friendship.

* * *

The morning was bright with sunshine, the sky a cloudless blue, the rain clouds that had been present the night before having disappeared with the dawn. The land was still wet and glistened in the bright light, and the trees were thick with dark-green leaves.

After eating a hasty breakfast and eager to be on their way, Stephen and Edward would take their leave of Alice and Arabella in the courtyard. The two gentlemen who accompanied them were already mounted, their horses restless. Edward had not yet appeared, for he was saying farewell to his son.

‘God go with you,’ Arabella said tenderly as she kissed her brother. ‘I beg you take care.’ She could not dismiss the fear in her heart, or her sense of dark foreboding that she might never see him again. ‘Where exactly are you bound?’