by Stella Riley
The snow eventually ceased, leaving the whole country smothered under a blanket of white and the Scots army marooned at Berwick. Nothing moved on the roads and when Eden stepped outside the front door into the nicely-timed avalanche delivered by Robin and Jessica Maynard from above, he began to feel his sense of humour deserting him.
‘I’ll murder those two,’ he said shortly to Gabriel later.
‘No you won’t,’ came the arid reply. ‘You won’t be here.’
Eden stared at him. ‘How do you work that out?’
‘Because Sir William wants some letters and despatches sent to London – and I’ve arranged for you to take them. You’ll have to wait for the thaw, of course. But, with the weather as it is, no one will be particularly surprised if the round trip takes a bit longer than usual. Or even quite a lot longer, I should imagine.’
‘You’re saying,’ said Eden slowly, ‘that I can go home?’
‘No,’ sighed Gabriel. ‘I’m not. I’m just pointing out that, once you’re away from here, what you do is your own business. Provided, that is, that you use some common sense.’ He paused, a glimmer of amusement lighting his dark grey eyes. ‘Ah yes. And while you’re about it, you might deliver my other sword to a fellow named Jack Morrell in Shoreditch. The hilt needs some repair-work.’
‘Mr Morrell is an armourer?’
‘The best,’ said Gabriel. And then, almost as an after-thought, ‘He’s also my foster-brother.’
* * *
With only Tom Tripp for company, Eden made it from Farnham to London in three days – which, considering the quagmire of slush that lay between, wasn’t at all bad. Discharging his errand in Westminster took a further three, during the course of which he visited Amy, Toby and the major’s foster-family, avoided Luciano del Santi and learned something about his father that he hadn’t expected to hear. Then, with the Parliament’s replies to Sir William tucked safely in his pocket, he set off north towards Thorne Ash before the rapidly expanding flood-water could make his passage impossible.
He arrived, mud-spattered and monumentally weary, just as the family was rising from supper. For a moment there was stunned silence and then, as always, his mother reached him first.
‘Eden!’ Dorothy embraced him, half-laughing and half-crying; then, her fingers tracing the thin, pale pink line on his cheek, ‘But your poor face. How --? No. That’s silly. I should just be thanking God you’re alive.’
‘Scars,’ remarked Kate unsteadily, ‘are often held to lend distinction. Ralph is probably quite jealous. Unless he’s got one too?’
‘Not where it shows,’ responded Eden.
And then they were all on him; all, that is, save one.
Presently, when the worst of the tumult was over, he said painfully, ‘Celia?’
‘Safe and well,’ Dorothy assured him quickly. And then, smiling, ‘Go up. There is someone you should meet.’
‘The – the baby?’
‘Yes. Born a month ago and doing beautifully. You’ve nothing to worry about, you see. So go – before your father breaks all the rules and tells you whether you’ve a son or a daughter. And then, when you’re ready, there will be food waiting for you.’
Somewhere between the parlour and his wife’s door, Eden found time to discard his sword and buff-coat. Then, drawing a slightly unsteady breath, he rapped lightly on the dark panels and set his hand to the latch.
Celia sat by the hearth. Her hair was loose and she was wearing a wide-sleeved chamber-robe that glimmered dully in the firelight. She looked stunning … but it was not that which stopped Eden’s breath. The baby lay in her lap. It was a picture he’d never seen before. And then, in the time it took for his heart to resume its usual pattern, she rose and said sharply, ‘My God. How did you get here?’
It wasn’t quite the welcome he had hoped for … but it was necessary, he realised, to allow for shock.
‘With extreme difficulty,’ he smiled, moving towards her. ‘But surely you’ve been expecting me? My letters must have told you that much at least.’
Pulling herself together, Celia grasped the easy option without even thinking. She said, ‘Oh yes. But you’re a little late, don’t you think?’ And then, before he could answer her, ‘However, now that you’re finally here, I suppose you’d better meet Viola Mary.’
‘Viola Mary?’ queried Eden, cautiously. He came to rest in front of her, his eyes on the sleeping infant in her arms.
‘It’s her name,’ came the impatient response. ‘You chose Jude – so I felt it was my turn. And how was I to know how long it would be before you found the time to visit us? So I decided on Mary for Her Majesty the Queen; and Viola because she was born on Twelfth Night. It’s from Shakespeare, you know.’
Eden, whose acquaintance with Shakespeare was no better now than it had ever been, didn’t know. But intent only on avoiding the challenge in her voice, he said merely, ‘I see. It’s charming … and so, as far as I can tell, is she. Can I hold her?’
‘If you like,’ began Celia ungraciously. And then as, turning to receive the baby, his left cheek came for the first time within reach of the light, ‘Merciful heaven! Where did you come by that?’
‘At Roundway Down,’ he replied, settling Viola Mary competently on his arm. ‘I’m sorry. I suppose I ought to have warned you.’
‘Yes. Well … it certainly doesn’t do much for your looks, does it?’ she retorted carelessly. Then, with a small brittle laugh, ‘Roundway Down. Wasn’t that the battle everybody calls Runaway Hill?’
‘The Cavaliers call it that,’ he said quietly. ‘It would be nice, however, if my wife felt able to be a bit more tactful. Celia … why are you so angry?’
‘Angry? I’m not especially. I just don’t feel inclined to fall on your neck, that’s all. You should try remembering that I’ve only laid eyes on you once in the last eighteen months and that I disagree with everything you’re doing. So if we’ve become strangers, you’ve only yourself to blame.’
An all-too-familiar pain gathered around Eden’s heart. Frowning a little, he said, ‘To an extent, I suppose that’s true. But a little effort on both our parts could overcome that, surely? And I love you no less than I have ever done. I … I don’t ask you to meet me half-way. But couldn’t you at least be patient a little longer and – and accept what I bring you in the brief time we can be together?’
‘And what, exactly, is that?’ she asked, coolly deciding that now was as good a time as any to come to the point. ‘You rushed here last year and went off again without a backward glance, leaving me pregnant. Were you thinking of doing the same again? Because you’ll have to pardon me if I say that’s not what I want. Nor, I am afraid, what I will have.’
The pain grew. Eden stared down at the small, puckered face in his arms and said wearily, ‘You’re saying you don’t want me in your bed?’
‘Precisely. What did you expect?’
‘Some discussion, perhaps. Will you have your woman take the baby to the nursery so that we can talk?’
‘No,’ said Celia. ‘I don’t think I will. We can talk tomorrow if you wish, but right now I’m tired. So why don’t you take Viola to the nursery? That way you can also look in on Jude – and I can get some rest.’
The hazel eyes rose slowly to encompass her face and it was a long time before Eden spoke. Then he said tonelessly, ‘It rather seems, does it not, that you no longer love me?’
‘Probably not,’ returned Celia, with sudden deadly bitterness. ‘But what difference does that make? We’re married, aren’t we?’
* * *
It was hard to go downstairs with a smile on his face and enthuse about his baby daughter as though his wife had not said what she had just said. It was even harder to appear to do justice to the food his mother put before him whilst answering Father’s and Kate’s questions about the war and Tabitha’s light-hearted ones about Ralph. But he did it and gradually his mind recovered some of its tone so that he was eventually able to look noncommittally at
Richard and say, ‘I hear that you’ve quit your seat. Why?’
‘Because I preferred not to take the oath that would have let me keep it.’
‘The Covenant?’ Eden looked vaguely surprised. He and Ralph and Gabriel and the others had taken it in a somewhat jaundiced vein and, being rather busy at the time, without overmuch thought. ‘I agree that the Scots are overstepping themselves by insisting on it – but there’s no real harm, is there?’
‘Perhaps not. But I was reluctant to pander to them any further. After all, their divines now sit in the Westminster Assembly, Archbishop Laud’s impeachment has been resumed and we’re all supposed to be strenuously removing anything decorative from our churches. We’re even denied Christmas. It seems to me that ought to be enough.’
‘True,’ sighed Eden. ‘But the devil of it is that we need them.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Richard. ‘But if the cost of their help is turning England Presbyterian, I doubt if I’ll be the only one asking if it’s worth it.’ He paused and then said abruptly, ‘Do you know how many members are left in the Commons? Two hundred out of six. And as for the Lords, I doubt if they can raise a total strength of more than twenty. The King has called Parliament a remnant of rebels but it’s worse than that. It’s a farce. And now Pym is dead it will fall into the hands of that young fanatic Harry Vane and Solicitor-General St John – who’s nothing but a mouthpiece for Oliver Cromwell and his sectarian friends. Leave matters up to such as him and you could find your next order is to get yourself baptised again. Probably,’ finished Richard, with a sudden grin, ‘under a name like Repent-and-be-Saved.’
Tabitha giggled.
‘Nathan says one of his Banbury friends has called his son Jerusalem. He thinks it most suitable. In fact, he was rather hoping that Celia might be persuaded to have poor little Viola christened Purity – only of course she wouldn’t.’
‘And who shall blame her?’ remarked Dorothy, wondering if the shadow in Eden’s eyes was to do with Celia’s choice of name or something much worse. Since she couldn’t ask, however, she merely said, ‘You look appallingly tired, my dear. How long can you stay?’
‘Not long. I’m not really supposed to be here at all,’ he replied wryly. ‘Fortunately, I’ve a sympathetic major. But in order not to try credulity too far, I’d better be off again the day after tomorrow.’
Kate’s brows rose.
‘It’s to be hoped, then, that you won’t mind swimming.’
‘Needs must,’ he shrugged. ‘I’ve got to return via London to pick up Gabriel’s sword – and then it’s back to the hell-born brats.’
‘Gabriel?’ asked Kate.
And, ‘Hell-born brats?’ echoed Tabitha.
Eden managed a grin and stood up stretching.
‘Gabriel is my sympathetic major; and the brats – by name Robin and Jessica – are the unholy offspring of the Royalist gentleman whose house we are currently occupying. It’s their mission in life to remind us daily of our intrusion.’
‘Well, you can’t blame them for that,’ said Tabitha. ‘In their position, I’d be doing the same thing myself.’
‘I know you would,’ replied Eden, yawning. ‘And I’m just thankful that, dreadful as they are, they don’t quite aspire to your levels of inventiveness. Yet.’
* * *
On the following morning, Kate noticed two things. The first was that Tom Tripp had managed to find his way into the nursery at a time when Meg was absent from it and was sitting on the floor, playing a game of building bricks with Jude and Eve. Kate crossed her fingers and whisked herself past the open doorway before he should see her. If reconciliation was in the air, she had no mind to spoil it. And that was why, when she met her brother coming out of the room which adjoined the one he shared with Celia, she grabbed his hand and bundled him back inside.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Eden, a shade irritably. He had spent the last hour trying to recreate some kind of rapport with Celia, only to find that every turn brought him back to where he had been last night. ‘I was going to the nursery.’
‘Yes. But now isn’t a good time,’ she grinned. ‘Tom’s in there.’
‘So?’
‘So if he’s taking an interest in Eve, it may be because he still cares for Eve’s mother.’
‘He does,’ said Eden flatly. ‘But I doubt it will come to anything. She betrayed him with another man, Kate – and has a child to show for it. You can’t just forget a thing like that.’
Kate sighed. ‘Perhaps not. But Eve’s two now and the image of Meg – so I hoped that Tom might have got over his hurt. It seems a shame to let one piece of foolishness blight your whole life. Meanwhile, Eve’s being brought up as if she was Jude and Viola’s sister – but she’s not and everyone knows it. What will become of her?’
‘That’s not Tom’s problem. And even if it was, he’d have to be sixpence short of the shilling to marry Meg before the war ends.’
‘I realise that. But it doesn’t alter the fact that he’s sitting on the nursery floor with Eve at his knee. Do you have to be so discouraging?’ asked Kate. And then was struck by her second discovery of the morning. Eden looked even more fatigued than he had last night … and the unmade truckle-bed in the corner explained why. She drew a long breath and said cautiously, ‘You look terrible. Do you want to talk about it?’
His brows soared. ‘To you?’
‘Unless you’d rather worry Mother? But I take your point. Would you believe me if I promised not to snipe?’
Eden turned away to the window and leaned his hands on the ledge, staring out into the wintry garden. He said remotely, ‘Let’s put it to the test, shall we? Tell me – simply and without unnecessary elaboration – how Celia’s been since I was last here.’
‘Until about the middle of October, absolutely fine. Happy, even. Then the weather turned unpleasant and her condition made riding difficult so it seemed quite natural that she should be a little less cheerful.’ Kate gave it some thought and then said, ‘That’s probably what ails her now. She’s tired of being cooped up. So am I, come to that.’
‘And the baby … how has she been with her?’
‘A bit more interested, perhaps, than she was in Jude – though still not overly enthusiastic. I think we just have to accept that she’s not very maternal.’
‘My God!’ said Eden, swivelling caustically to face her. ‘If you struggle to be any fairer, you’ll do yourself a mischief.’
Kate stared back at him, temporarily silenced by the look in his eyes. Finally, she said quietly, ‘Eden … what has she said to you?’
‘What do you think?’ he retorted, gesturing to the state of the room. ‘I’m surprised that you’re bothering to ask.’
‘But it can’t just be that, surely? It – it’s still a little soon after the baby, isn’t it? And I should have thought you’d have understood that.’
‘Yes. I would have understood it – had that been how it was put to me.’ He paused briefly. ‘Would you say Celia has seemed angry with me for not being here when Viola was born?’
‘No. I don’t think so. Or not that I’ve noticed, anyway.’
Eden’s expression altered subtly and it was a long time before he spoke. Then, in a voice she did not recognise, he said, ‘I see. Well … that appears to cover all the possibilities, doesn’t it? And now – Tom or no Tom – I’m going to see my children.’
He devoted the afternoon to remedying the fact that his three-year-old son did not know him and divided the evening between reassuring his mother of his own well-being and discussing wider issues with his father. Throughout it all, he strove to treat Celia exactly as usual, avoided Kate’s eye and made sure no one asked any questions he wasn’t prepared to answer. Then, on the following morning, he said his goodbyes and rode off into the ghostly pre-dawn light, taking Tom Tripp with him.
Dorothy stood on the gatehouse with Richard, silently watching until he was out of sight. Then she said, ‘There’s trouble between him and Celia
.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Richard. ‘But that’s hardly new, is it? And I daresay it will blow over.’
‘It might – if he were here. Or then again, perhaps not. He still hasn’t learned, has he?’
‘Learned what?’
‘That the more he tries to please her, the worse she behaves.’
Richard looked down at her with a sort of rueful amusement.
‘What are you saying? That he should beat her?’
‘No. No, of course not. But I do wish he’d do something to shake her out of her goddamned complacency,’ she replied with a spurt of unusual violence. Then, sighing, ‘I’m sorry. It’s just that he struggled here through hell and high water – literally! – and his visit should have been a happy one. Only it wasn’t, was it?’
‘No.’ Richard folded her lightly in his arms. ‘No, I don’t think it was. But this isn’t something we can help him with – except perhaps by being here.’
‘I know. But it’s hard, sometimes, to shut your eyes and do nothing.’
‘Tell me something new,’ said Richard grimly. ‘You would like to sort out Eden’s marriage – and I, the bungled affairs of the nation. But neither would be welcome. And neither would work.’
* * *
Throughout the rest of February, people spoke mostly of the weather, the opening of the King’s Parliament in Oxford and the convening, in Westminster, of something called the Committee of Both Kingdoms which was to be composed of Scots and English and replace the old Council of War. It was this last which interested Richard most; and when he heard that Vane, St John and Cromwell had all been voted seats on it but that Denzil Holles had not, he was moved to a brief, sardonic laugh.
‘It’s funny?’ asked Dorothy.
‘Not if you happen to be the Earl of Essex,’ he replied. ‘Holles is the only friend he’s got. The rest of them are all committed to getting rid of him – probably in favour of Waller.’