A Captive Heart

by Patricia Scott

  ‘As if you would ever let me forget it, Martha!’

  Tamsin, feeling aggrieved and despondent, sat down by her dressing chest. Martha, reflected in the mirror behind her, held out a warming posset and stood by to watch while Tamsin drank it down.

  ‘I think that you will need to give Lady Phoebe as much care and attention as you would give your own dear mother were she still here with us. I trust that you will do so,’ her nurse commented firmly as she took the empty cup from Tamsin. ‘She needs you as much as you do her. If not more, Tamsin. She is a very lonely woman.’ So Martha had overheard the few sharp words that had passed between them earlier in the parlour. ‘There is much that needs to be done here to help your aunt. If the Ironsides make it their business to come here, we shall need to be well prepared for them.’

  Martha left the room quietly. But her words stayed with Tamsin.

  ‘Prepared for them’ now echoed in her mind. Will I be prepared for Adam if I ever see him again? What should I do then? How could I ever learn to trust him?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Tamsin was woken up suddenly from her night slumber by noises from outside the house in the gardens below. Could it be the Roundheads come already by stealth to take Treganna from them?

  She sat up, rubbed her eyes, listened, frowned and then smiled. She was being foolish, nothing could harm her here. She was amongst friends and family. If it had been on Tresco it could be a noisy sentry that disturbed her. Here it could be anything from to the bats that nested in the old stone folly to the owls from the outlying barns.

  She heard movement again and was sure it was something more though than birds that had alerted her. She drew back the curtains, clambered out of the four poster bed and ran over to the polished wooden flooring to the windows to look out on the moonlit garden. She saw several dark shadowy figures hurrying across the lawns and disappearing into the trees where the faint silvery gleam of moonlight on water filtered through. They were going towards the small jetty where the boat was kept on the river.

  Edward Whittle was in charge of the household and he would not allow anything to take place there or in the house that could harm the family. It puzzled her. What was going on here? She thought of calling Martha but decided against it. Martha was tired - she had taken on so much of late - and it was best to let her rest.

  Should she slip downstairs to see for herself? She decided against it and waited instead on the cushioned window seat resting her head against the small cool glass paned window. Her patience was eventually rewarded just after the clock downstairs in the hallway chimed melodiously and cleared the midnight hour and she saw one, two, three, four dark figures crossing the moonlit lawns carrying round barrels and large covered packages on their shoulders.

  One of them, pushing a barrel in a large wheelbarrow, she recognised to be Margriam, and the youngest gardener, Ned Penganner, after him, carried another barrel, and there was Reuben and Edward Whittle too.

  Edward was speaking to a thin balding capped man. She caught the French words exchanged between them; it was Captain Jacques and all suddenly became clear to her. She chuckled. Of course she should have realised she had been watching the time old occupation of smuggling that had long been carried out there. They had been meeting the smuggler’s ship in Helford passage. She knew Uncle Bevil kept a cellar of good wine and brandy and no doubt any silks lace or satin Aunt Phoebe might acquire from France would be used to make up her proposed new wardrobe of fashionable gowns. Wool from their sheep’s backs from the farms was often used in exchange in the deal as well as gold.

  If she heard anything at all in her adjoining bedchamber, Martha would simply have ignored it. Aunt Phoebe likewise was leaving Edward Whittle to oversee it through safely. This was another pursuit that the pious Roundheads would forbid and stop immediately. There were so many things they cherished in their community that would have to cease if their enemies had their way.

  A half an hour or so later and the movement and activity in the gardens below had ceased. Peace and quiet held sway there once again.

  Tamsin clambered back into bed. Once again her thoughts turned back to Adam, no longer lying in the cave with the recurring splash of the waves outside for a lullaby. Where was he resting that night? Did he think of her at all?

  Then she thought of her father. Was he furious with her for what she had done? Would he ever forgive her? She prayed that he would and she knew she did not regret the part she had played. She could never have forgiven herself if she had told the soldiers to take Adam prisoner.

  She could not get back to sleep and began to shed fresh tears into her pillow. A gentle knock came on her door, and a soft call from Martha. ‘What is wrong with you, child?’

  ‘Martha, come in.’

  ‘You’re still awake. What troubles you?’

  She sat up in bed. ‘I was woken up by something... I thought I heard someone out there. Horses hooves... And I so I wished it was Father coming home to us. Do you think Father will forgive me, Martha? Will he?’

  ‘You were dreaming.’ Martha smoothed back Tamsin’s hair gently. ‘He can scarce be angry for long. He has a very dear daughter who cares for him so much. A daughter who doesn’t like to hurt anyone. Friend or foe.’

  ‘You really think this, Martha? I could not bear it if he treated me like Adam’s father has treated him.’

  Martha shook her head. ‘A father cannot be so hard to a son or a daughter. Remember the prodigal son? Love is strong. It can overcome almost anything.’

  ‘Even betrayal, Martha?’

  ‘Even betrayal, Tamsin. Go to sleep. That young man will surely survive to live another day.’

  ‘I shall never, never see him again, Martha.’ She sobbed. ‘He could be killed and I would never know his fate.’

  Martha laughed. ‘The devil takes care of his own, my girl. He is not ready for that yet.’

  Tamsin knew that she had to be satisfied with that and said no more. Martha was no doubt right. Adam had managed to take care of himself so far.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Adam had thoughts of Tamsin constantly with him on his long walk across the moonlit cliff top and down the cobbled street into the small town of Illogan. His heart lifted at every fresh step he took nearer to his friends at The Rovers Return. There he would find welcome too from his horse Rufus who had been awaiting his return for four long weeks.

  His welcome in the stables came from the boy who was grooming the big black horse: ‘Adam! You are here at last. Molly said she knew you would come back safely.’ He said turning to throw his arms around Adam.

  ‘You had my message then, lad.’

  ‘Aye, we sent the news on to those up country like you told us. And we got a reply back yesterday. Received. Bonny brought it to us safely.’

  ‘Adam! We thought it must be you.’

  ‘Molly you’re a good sight to see,’ Adam said with a laugh as the pretty dark haired girl threw her arms around him and kissed him twice on his cheek and then held up her candle lit lantern high to take a good look at him.

  ‘You look thin and peaked. You’ve been hurt, Adam.’

  He grinned. ‘A shot in my left shoulder.’

  ‘I knew that something was wrong when we didn’t hear or see you back here again after that last message reached us.’

  He smiled as her blue eyes studied him carefully from head to toe.

  ‘I feel all the better for seeing you now, young woman.’ he said, as he placed her curly head against his chest. ‘And young John there.’ He patted Rufus who whinnied and neighed a loud welcome. ‘I have much to thank you for - you can’t know how glad I am to be back here with you all. But I cannot stay for long, there is much more that I have to do.’ He sighed. ‘Cromwell will be calling on me before long.’

  ‘So who looked after you, someone must have done. Your shoulder pains you still?’

  He laughed and nodded. She hadn’t missed the look of pain in his eyes when she’d touched his sho
ulder while greeting him so enthusiastically. ‘It does a little but it’s nothing. It’ll not stop me from doing what I have to in the next few days.’

  But as he uttered this he knew the pain he was experiencing in his heart meant much more to him than this. In the last few dark hours on his journey he thought of nothing else after he had said his last goodbye to the one person he could not bear to be parted from. He did not know when he would see her again. Tamsin had made it pretty obvious when they had parted company that she did not trust him or believe him when he said that he had no wish to harm her or her father. But he was equally determined that he could not let their short acquaintance end like that. She meant so much to him that he knew he would defend and protect her till the day he died.

  ‘You must let me take a look at it, Adam, a night’s sleep in a bed upstairs and a good meal inside you would not go amiss. You need a good woman to take care of you. When are you going to let someone into that stubborn heart of yours?’

  Adam smiled.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The next day some unexpected visitors on horseback arrived at Treganna House. Tamsin, whilst helping her aunt pick flowers for the dining table, watched the three men riding leisurely up the long leafy driveway to the house. Their garb, even at a distance, showed them plainly to be Royalists, and the friendly reception they were given by the footman told Tamsin that they were apparently well known to her aunt. Their weary mounts looked as if they had travelled some considerable distance already that day.

  Lady Phoebe who was picking the scented golden roses and white marguerites overseen by old Margriam came forward immediately and showed her great pleasure and surprise at seeing them, greeting them with obvious sincerity.

  ‘Gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to welcome you to Treganna House. Have you travelled far, sir?’

  ‘We have indeed, dear lady. We are grateful to be amongst true friends today.’

  Tamsin’s curiosity was more immediately aroused by the tall, handsome young man with the thick curling raven black locks. Dressed in a servants clothing, stout brown leather jerkin and country russets he alighted lithely from his grey and stood back from his older companions. He was not introduced immediately to her aunt.

  Tamsin caught her breath sharply, and her chest tightened as her eyes met the bold twinkle of amusement that danced in his dark eyes. He’d noticed her too standing well back in the shade of the old mulberry tree with her armful of colourful flowers. He gently inclined his head in greeting as she viewed him with curiosity. His bearing, she thought instantly, was not that of a servant. So who was he?

  ‘Come in. Come in, gentleman. Have you any good news for me of my husband?’ She looked for Tamsin and beckoned to her. ‘This is Tamsin, my niece, Richard Trevenian’s daughter. Lord Lambton and my Lord Ellison, Tamsin. My Lord Bevil’s good friends.’

  Tamsin curtseyed as she was introduced to them. ‘Trimble will show your man where the stables are.’ Lord Lambton nodded to the young man who smiled, and accompanied the footman and the horses round the back to the stables.

  Aunt Phoebe took their visitors into the parlour and offered them ale from the good October brewing and Trimble came in with some dishes of cold meats, bread and cheese. They sat down with sighs of pleasure and picked up the brimming mugs of the ale and drank them down appreciatively.

  Lady Phoebe leant forward to enquire eagerly: ‘What brings you, here, sir? This cannot be a casual visit. I hope that you have some good news to tell us. It has been some time since we have heard any news from up country.’

  ‘We are on our way to Pendennis castle shortly, and then we shall take passage to sail to the Scillies and if we may we would wish to stay here for a day or so, my lady,’ Lord Ellison said smiling broadly.

  ‘You are most welcome, gentlemen. I will see to it that your chambers are made ready for you immediately.’

  ‘We thank you, my lady. We have had a hard journey across country these last two days. If you could be so kind,’ Oliver Lambton said. ‘We shall only need to be under your safe roof here for a day or so.’ He smiled. ‘I trust that you have a loyal household here, Lady Phoebe, as I must impress on you that it is of the utmost importance that our visit does not become known to our enemies. Or to your good friends. We cannot encourage idle tongues here. Your silence is required and vital to our cause.’ He spoke out seriously and his companion nodded.

  Lady Phoebe looked worried. ‘Sir, all here in this household are loyal to our Royalist cause and our Royal family. I give my word that none here would seek to betray Prince Charles or his mother, the Queen.’

  ‘I am glad to hear so - we need your discretion and support, madam.’ Lambton studied the women’s faces as he spoke quietly and his companion nodded in agreement. ‘I trust that anything that is said here will not go out of this room, my lady.’

  ‘My niece I can assure you is trustworthy, gentlemen. She is the daughter of a Royalist officer and a Trevenian.’

  Lambton nodded. ‘I have to state this because so much depends on you all here. I have to inform you here and now that Cromwell has now offered an award of five thousand pounds for the capture of the Stuart heir to the throne alive or dead...’

  Lady Phoebe gasped and paled immediately. Her fan soon came into play. ‘God have mercy on him and us, my lord.’ Tamsin hurried quickly to her side. ‘Sirs, tell me this cannot be true. Cromwell wreaks vengeance this day on us all. This last wicked act goes beyond all boundaries between right and wrong. It cannot surely be borne.’

  Lambton shook his head. ‘I’m afraid it is, my lady. And because of this we would like to introduce you to someone shortly whose safety is most vitally important to us all.’

  ‘Pray do tell me more, sir…’ Lady Phoebe said wiping her tears from her face with a lace handkerchief, shaking with distress.

  Tamsin put her arm lovingly around the older woman. ‘Please don’t cry, Aunt.’

  Lady Phoebe’s head turned quickly as she was interrupted by a light knock on the parlour door. It opened to reveal Lord Lambton’s young handsome serving man, who came in closing the door quietly behind him.

  Lady Phoebe’s tearful blue eyes grew rounder with surprise as he came forward quickly to make a low courtly bow to both her and Tamsin.

  ‘My Lady Phoebe, Mistress Trevenian, it is indeed my pleasure to meet you both here today. I hope you will forgive me for arriving without invitation and so informally at Treganna house, my lady,’ he said with a smile on his dark handsome face.

  ‘Lord Laurence... Who - who is this young man? Should I know you, sir?’

  ‘This, Lady Phoebe, is Charles Stuart, our late King’s son. And our rightful heir to the English throne.’

  ‘Oh! Glory be! Prince Charles... Your Royal Highness! Sire!’

  Lady Phoebe dropped her fan and the Prince picked it up and handed it over to her with a low courtly bow.

  ‘My lady…’

  ‘Oh, pray, please do forgive me, your Royal Highness. Please forgive me.’ Lady Phoebe rose and bobbed a curtsey covered in pink confusion and joy - totally unprepared for this disclosure of her unexpected royal guest.

  Tamsin smiled. She knew now why he had seemed so familiar to her. She came forward and curtseyed. ‘Your Highness. On behalf of my Aunt Phoebe and everyone here we welcome you to Treganna house, sire.’

  Aunt Phoebe filled with excitement now, tossed her fair ringlets and fluttered her fan. ‘Your Royal Highness! My Lords! What can I say? Why have you come here? This is indeed a great honour. What do you want with us, gentlemen? Lord Lambton? Tell us and we shall do it forthwith.’

  ‘Dear lady, we only ask that you keep the Prince’s presence here secret under your roof here for a day or so. We shall be leaving here as soon as our stay at Pendennis castle is fully safely arranged.’

  ‘You have our sole discretion, my lord, your Royal Highness.’

  ‘We do not wish to bring attention to anyone here that has Cromwellian leanings. It would be best if hi
s Highness keeps his anonymity from everyone or anyone that might call on you here during the day.’

  ‘My servants are loyal and my maids have brothers and fathers fighting for the Royalist cause, your Highness,’ Aunt Phoebe said. ‘My steward Edward Whittle was wounded in battle. He shall see to it that you are kept safe and protected.’ She gasped, ‘Oh dear! Oh, my lord! I quite forgot! I have arranged for a dinner to be held here tonight.’ She shook her head. ‘I wished to introduce my niece Tamsin here to my friends. But I shall of course cancel it forthwith.’

  ‘Pray do not, my lady,’ Lord Lambton said. ‘This will only serve to draw attention to Treganna. It is best that everything should go on as normal for the next few days. No one should think that something has changed your present arrangements for the evening.’

  ‘Pray do not attempt to alter your plans on my account, Lady Phoebe,’ Prince Charles said smiling. ‘Alas, I must confess that I am weary after long days of travel and shall be glad of a good night’s rest in this beautiful house before I leave England for a foreign shore in France.’

  ‘I shall see to it instantly, sire,’ Lady Phoebe said.

  Charles said with a warm smile, ‘You have my immediate thanks, my ladies. We have been long on the road and I must admit that I am grossly saddle sore,’ he added with a rich chuckle.

  Aunt Phoebe pulled hard on the bell rope. ‘Please ask Mr Whittle to come and see me here at once, Trimble.’

  Minutes later Edward Whittle came in shutting the door behind him carefully; his grey eyes showing instant recognition and little surprise when he saw the young Charles Stuart standing at ease by the fireplace. He bowed. ‘Your Royal Highness, my lords. My lady Phoebe...’

  He was given a quick summing up of the situation by Lord Lambton. He said instantly, ‘Everything here will be directed and managed the same for your invited guests as it would normally. I will see to it his Highness has his good bedchamber, rest privacy and refreshment immediately.’