The Rebel Captain's Royalist Bride (11 page)

‘I cannot promise you that John will not be wounded or even killed,’ she said, ‘but while I live you will always have a friend in me, Alice.’

‘Thank you,’ Alice said and embraced her. ‘John said you would be good for me and he was right. I shall not be afraid when my child comes now that you are here.’

Babette felt the sting of tears. It had cost her much to choose between her brother and his wife and Captain Colby. She would never have been able to live with herself if she had gone with him and then heard that Alice had gone into a decline.

‘We shall love and comfort each other,’ she said, kissing Alice’s cheek. ‘And now I shall make you a pleasant tisane that will make you feel much better. Perhaps tomorrow John and his friend will be here.’

Leaving Alice’s room, she went down to her mother’s still room. The shelves were packed with jars of cures she had made before she left so that Martin would have something if one of the servants fell sick. There were also bunches of dried herbs and jars with tight-fitting caps that contained other ingredients she used in her tisanes.

She sent a servant to fetch a pan of hot water and mixed her herbs, making a brew that would help Alice feel less sick in the mornings. When it was strong enough, she strained it and added honey to sweeten it, then poured it into a cup and carried it up to her sister-in-law’s chamber. She knew that it worked swiftly. By the time her husband returned, Alice should be feeling able to greet him with a smile.

Babette’s own heart was aching. She had parted from the man she loved and did not know whether she would ever see him again.

‘May God protect you and keep you safe,’ she prayed. ‘Please come back to me one day—and do not hate me.’

Chapter Seven

W
as he a fool to let her go so easily? James was thoughtful as he turned aside after seeing Babette ride over the drawbridge and into her home. He was certain she was wavering. Had he insisted, would she have thrown caution to the wind and come with him? He had come close to taking her on to his horse and riding away with her—he could have taken her to his home, closed the gates and forgot his duty...forsaking everything for her and love.

Was this feeling burning deep inside him love or merely physical desire? He knew that when she was near he could think only of bedding her, yet when she was in danger his first need had been to take her to safety.

Had he begun to love again? Not in the way he’d worshipped his gentle Jane, but as a man loved the woman who would be his equal, his partner through all the trials of life.

A part of him wanted to return, sweep her on to his horse and ride away!

No, that was foolish, a foolish thought for a weak man. He could never neglect his duty, and her brother would disown her if she wed a man he would name his enemy. She’d had no option but to return to her life and he to his.

It had taken strength to draw back and let her go. He had longed to ride off with her to his home, lock the door and forget there was a war. He wanted to keep her safe from all harm, to spend his life with her and think no more of politics or waging the fight against an unfair King. Yet he knew even as his thoughts rebelled that he could not do it. She must come to him of her own will and for preference with the goodwill of her brother.

James groaned, as he knew how hopeless a cause that might be. Lord Harvey was young and had chosen to fight for his King without giving the causes of the war enough thought. What Englishman in his right mind would condone the kind of taxes that had been forced upon them since Charles I had come to the throne? He thought with regret of the good days when Queen Bess had sat upon the English throne. He was, of course, not old enough to recall it, but his grandfather had revered Gloriana and hated the Scottish King who had taken her place. With his favourites and his petty weaknesses, King James had not served his people well—and his son was a tyrant who believed that he had a divine right to rule as he chose without due recourse to the law or to the people’s wishes.

Why did it have to happen in his lifetime? A country torn by civil strife—brother against brother and cousin against cousin. Drew Melbourne had been his friend until they quarrelled over James’s decision to stand with Parliament in this tussle. He regretted the breach, but not even for one second had he considered that Drew might be the enemy who had tried to kill him in such a cowardly way.

No, he could think only that it was Jane’s brother who hated him so deeply—but he could not think why or what had changed between them. Instead of being united in their grief, as he’d expected, his one-time friend had withdrawn, become distant and cold.

Did he blame him for Jane’s death?

Melchet must know that he had nothing to do with it. He had not even been there when she took ill, though he had hastened to her side.

James frowned. He had never understood how she caught such a terrible fever, but when he held her in his arms that fateful day it had seemed to him that all the life had gone out of her...that she had wanted to die.

No, that was nonsense! She was soon to be married and he knew she loved him for all her shyness and her hesitancy.

Something or someone had distressed her so much that...

James shook his head. He would not let Jane’s death torture him again. He had healed slowly, but it had taken a girl with bold eyes to bring him back from that cold place and teach him to live again.

God, how he wished she was here. He toyed with the idea of going back to the castle, of demanding that her brother listen to him. He should never have let her go.

The sound of a pistol shot brought him from his reverie. If he were not mistaken, that sound came from where his men waited for him.

Spurring his horse onwards, he rode towards the sounds of firing and saw that his men were being attacked by a force of perhaps seven Royalist soldiers. Drawing his sword, he let out a fearsome battle cry and rode straight at them. Whether they thought he was but one of another troop he did not know, but at the sight of him they looked at one another, turned tail and fled towards the woods.

His men fired after them, but the skirmish had been short and ended abruptly due to his timely arrival.

‘Thank goodness you came,’ his friend Simeon greeted him with a cheerful grin. ‘For a moment there I thought they had the better of us.’

‘What? There were but seven of them and five of you,’ James said and laughed. ‘However, I do not think we will stay around to discover if they return with more of their friends. On this occasion I think that discretion is the better part of valour.’

* * *

Hearing shots exchanged, John reined in and motioned Drew to do the same. His friend was bent almost double over his horse, so weary that he could not go much farther. John cursed the delay, for he knew that they must reach the castle and the safety of its walls before Drew collapsed. He wished that he had brought a wagon rather than allowing his proud friend to ride, as he’d insisted on doing. Looking at his strained face, he could see that he was at the end of his strength.

As they drew back into the trees, John saw a party of men he knew by their dress were Royalist soldiers—a private troop if he guessed right, undisciplined and led by their lord, who had no idea how to fight. If the fool had spotted a troop of rebels, he should have sent for reinforcements and surrounded them rather than attack with too few men.

Watching them scatter as they rode in what looked to him like a panic, John’s mouth twisted. If they were an indication of what to expect from the men loyal to his Majesty, the rebels would win the war. His opinion was confirmed when he saw a smaller band of Parliament soldiers follow and then turn in a different direction.

He frowned as he thought he recognised one or two of them. They were wearing buff coats and wore a yellow band across their chests. He was certain now that they were some of the men he’d seen near his uncle’s house. What had brought them this far south? Parliament’s strongholds were mostly in the north...unless things had changed while he’d been away.

He waited until they disappeared from view, then, glancing anxiously at his friend, reached over and took hold of the leading rein. Drew had not wanted it, but it had helped several times when he’d been in danger of losing his grip on the reins.

‘Not far to go now, Drew,’ he said. ‘It’s a comfortable bed for you this night—you’ll be safe when we reach the castle.’

John wished that he’d told his sister to come with them. He’d told her to stay with their uncle because he thought it might be too dangerous for her to accompany them, but he could have done with her skills on the journey. Drew’s wound had opened again and he’d had the devil of a job stopping it. The man had lost so much blood it was a wonder he could stay upright.

Thank God the castle was no more than a mile away. John would be glad to be home and to see Alice again. He hoped she would be feeling better than she had when he left her. She’d wept and clung to him then, making him feel bad about leaving her. The sooner he could bring his sister back the better.

* * *

Babette had left Alice to rest while she went to her chamber to change her gown, which was creased and stained from the journey. She would feel much better when she’d had a chance to eat something and a cup of wine would be pleasing—the sweet French wine her father had bought specially for her.

It was as she went down to the Great Hall once more that she heard the commotion and then several men entered at once. They were shouting and calling for wine and she realised that they were some of the Earl’s men. It seemed they’d had a skirmish with some rebels and were talking of the fight with relish.

‘We should have had them had their reinforcements not arrived,’ said one man with a loud voice. He was laughing as he turned and saw Babette and his eyes narrowed. He swept off his hat and bowed to her. ‘If it isn’t Mistress Babette... Welcome home, my lady.’

Babette did not smile. Captain Richards was not a man she cared for, because she did not like the way his eyes seemed to strip her of her clothes. He had made several advances towards her in the past, which she had rejected as politely as she could. He was in truth one of the reasons that she had written to her aunt and begged to be allowed to stay.

‘Thank you, Captain,’ she said. ‘Did you say you had an encounter with the enemy?’ Her heart was beating wildly for she knew it was likely that it had been Captain Colby and his men.

‘Aye, that we did. We had them surrounded and would have made short work of them, had a large reinforcement not arrived and charged us. We rode away, for we were not prepared for a large battle.’

Were there other rebel forces in the district? Babette thought there must be, for there had been only six of them and she had counted seven men in the hall.

She hesitated, wanting to ask if any had been killed in the skirmish, but just as she sought a way to frame her question, Martin came up to her, touching her arm discreetly.

‘Mistress Babette, your brother has arrived. His friend is ill and needs your services. Will you come now or later?’

‘I shall come now,’ Babette said. Her supper could wait until later and she did not wish for more of Captain Richard’s company. ‘Where is the Earl?’

‘He is away for a few days. He was called to the King and left the castle in the charge of Captain Richards—though now my lord is home things will change—for the better, I trust.’

Babette guessed from his expression that he cared no more for the Royalist captain than she did. She nodded her head and went with him, following him towards her brother’s private chambers. John would want Drew close until he was able to fend for himself again.

‘Does my brother know I am here?’

‘He was surprised at the news, but thanked God for it, as we all do who know and love you, mistress.’

Babette smiled at him and hurried in his footsteps. She must see what ailed Drew Melbourne before she went to her still room. John had told her he was on the mend, but it sounded as if the journey had exhausted him. What she hoped was that his wound had not opened again, for he had already lost too much blood.

* * *

‘Well?’ John asked as she bent over his friend. ‘What do you think, Babs—can you help him?’

‘Yes, I think so,’ she replied. ‘This wound has not healed as it ought. I fear it must be cauterised. It will hurt him and he may fight us—but you must hold him while I apply the iron.’

‘The iron is a fearful thing,’ John said. ‘Are you sure you can do it?’

‘If you and Martin hold him down,’ she said. ‘It needs a steady hand—and I would not be strong enough to keep him still when the iron burns. He will scream and rear up, but you must hold him while the heat does its work or he could bleed to death.’

‘Thank God you were here,’ her brother said fervently. ‘I wished for you on the journey, but thought it unsafe. Did you travel here with only Jonas for escort?’

‘No, I had an escort to protect me,’ she said. ‘I shall tell you later. I must concentrate on Drew now. This bleeding must be stopped.’

He nodded wordlessly. The red-hot iron was brought. He and Martin held Drew down to the bed, and Babette applied the iron. The stink of burning flesh, his screams and his pain almost unnerved her, but she held it to the putrid flesh for long enough to burn away the infection and stop the slow, persistent drip of blood and pus. When she withdrew it and passed it to the servant, who had turned aside while she did her work, her stomach was heaving and she felt faint and sick.

‘You are as white as a sheet,’ Martin said. ‘Sit down, my lady.’

‘I am merely faint from lack of food,’ she said with a weary smile. ‘I have had a long journey and I made a tisane for Alice before this... I must apply the healing salve to take away some of the pain and then I can eat and drink.’

‘I can do that, mistress,’ Martin said and took the pot from her. ‘Go down to the hall and ask for food.’

‘I shall go to my chamber.’ She turned to the servant, who had placed the cooling iron in the hearth. ‘Please ask Molly to bring food and wine to my chamber.’

He looked at her awkwardly. ‘Molly isn’t here, mistress. Shall I ask Maigret?’

‘Yes, please,’ she said, wondering what had happened to her favourite maidservant but too tired to ask.

‘Thank you,’ John said. ‘Rest now, Babs. I must go to Alice now—but I shall see you in the morning.’

Babette inclined her head, but did not look at him. She was so weary that she was not sure she had the strength to eat, except that her stomach was complaining and she felt faint from lack of food.

* * *

In the morning Babette felt much recovered. She rose and washed in the water Maigret had brought for her. The girl was helpful and clean in her habits, and Babette thanked her for her service. Just as she was turning away, she recalled that she’d wanted to know about Molly.

‘Where is Molly?’ she asked. ‘Has she gone home? I thought she was happy here?’

‘She be happy enough ’til...’ Maigret glanced over her shoulder nervously. ‘Best I do not say, mistress.’

‘You may tell me and no harm will come to you. Did someone upset her?’

‘’Twas more than upset...’ Maigret said and her cheeks went red. ‘She told me he forced her, mistress—had her in the shadows as she went about her business. When she threatened to complain to the Earl, he said he would kill her...and so she ran away.’

Her maidservant had been abused by a man and threatened with death to keep his secret! Babette was horrified. Who could have done such a thing? Her father had always been strict about the treatment of the maids and, had he been here, he would have punished the man severely.

‘Was it one of the servants?’ she asked, then, seeing the fear in the girl’s eyes, ‘I shall not tell anyone that you told me—but I must know in case it happens again.’