by Stella Riley
Kate turned away and pressed her clenched hands against the rough bark of a tree in an attempt to overlay one pain with another. It didn’t work. The hurt was too severe. For it wasn’t only Celia and Hugo and the mess they were making of Eden’s life; it was her own blind, searing need for Luciano … and the void it was making of her own.
* * *
Kate arrived home half an hour after Celia with no memory of having got there and spent the evening alone in her room nursing a very real headache. And on the following morning, still with no completely satisfactory plan of how to deal with Celia, she rose to the news that the King and Sir WilliamWaller had apparently spent the night facing each other across the River Cherwell, just outside Banbury.
A bubble of faint hysteria formed in Kate’s chest. Didn’t they say it never rained but it poured? She only hoped Captain Verney got court-martialled for dereliction of duty or whatever it was called. No. That was silly. What she ought to be hoping for was that Eden got no closer to His Majesty than the other bank of the river. Anything else didn’t bear thinking about.
The morning passed without news, rather as it had done on that fateful day the October before last when Edgehill had been fought. And then, at around noon, a tenant from one of the outlying farms arrived breathlessly at the gate to inform them that both armies were on the move again. Colonel Waller had left Banbury by the Southam road and was now on top of Bourton Hill … and the King had taken the Daventry road as far as Wardington.
‘Oh God,’ said Dorothy. ‘They must be within sight of each other – and have been all day.’
‘But still with the river between them,’ said Tabitha quickly. ‘It’ll be all right. If they were going to fight, they’d have done it by now, wouldn’t they?’
‘Not,’ said Kate remotely, ‘without a bridge to cross. And where’s the bridge nearest to both armies right now?’
Tabitha thought about it and then turned rather pale.
‘Cropredy?’ she said feebly.
‘Cropredy,’ agreed Kate. And said nothing more. There was, after all, no need … for the village of Cropredy lay less than four miles down the lane from Thorne Ash.
They heard it begin an hour later – first with indistinct shouting and then with volley upon volley of musket-fire. Along with the rest of the household, Kate stood silently above the gatehouse and listened, without knowing quite what she expected the distant noise to tell her. Celia, she noticed coldly, looked as tense as any of them. Kate wondered if she finally realised that Eden was out there fighting for his life … but came to the conclusion that she was more likely to be worrying about Hugo Verney.
Only let this day pass safely, Kate told herself grimly, and I swear I’ll cook her goose for her if it’s the last thing I do.
It was then that she realised that Dorothy was missing – and why. Leaving the others to their vigil, Kate walked slowly to the chapel to sit at her mother’s side and hold her hand through the long afternoon.
They spoke only once.
Dorothy said, ‘When it’s over, Eden will come home, won’t he?’
‘If it’s possible,’ replied Kate steadily, ‘I’m sure he will. But it may not be straight away.’
And then they fell silent till the guns at Cropredy stopped.
* * *
Eden did not come that night – but he did send Tom Tripp with a message that he was safe and would come if and when he could. Dorothy shed a few thankful tears and then told Goodwife Flossing to see that a hot meal would be ready to serve at a moment’s notice. Celia remained cool to the point of indifference and only smiled when Tom gruffly admitted that the victory at Cropredy Bridge had gone to the King. Their own army, he said, had lost colours, light artillery and men – though as yet no one knew exactly how many.
Since the two armies spent Sunday staring each other out and indulging in sporadic sniping between Bourton and Cropredy, Kate decided that it wasn’t the best time to tackle Celia on the thorny question of adultery. Then, at around four in the afternoon, while she was helping her mother repair some of Jude’s clothes, Dorothy gave a tiny shiver and said oddly, ‘Is there a draught in here?’
‘No,’ said Kate. ‘You’re just on edge and won’t be comfortable until you’ve seen Eden with your own eyes.’
‘No. No, I won’t. I just wish he’d hurry up and --’ She stopped and sat up very straight, her eyes brightening. ‘And get here. There’s a horse in the yard.’
‘So there is.’
And then they were both skimming out into the hall.
It wasn’t Eden. It was Toby. Dorothy and Kate stopped dead and stared at him.
‘Don’t blame me,’ said Toby bitterly. ‘Father’s orders, apparently. It seems that, with him chasing off God-knows-where and Sir still not back, I’m not to be trusted with nobody but Giacomo to keep me out of trouble. And no – I didn’t travel here alone. I rode with a couple of merchants on their way to Birmingham. They’ve gone on.’
Kate shut her mouth and waited for Dorothy to give her brother a hug. Then she said, ‘Did you say Father has gone off somewhere?’
‘Yes,’ he snapped. ‘He went off to see somebody or other and said he’d be back in a few days. He’s been seeing a lot of Mr Holles, so it’s probably something to do with the House. But why it means I had to come home, I don’t know. I’m seventeen – not a child.’
‘You’ll have to forgive us for not always remembering,’ murmured Dorothy. And then, smiling, ‘Ah well. I suppose you’re hungry?’
‘Starving,’ he agreed, rather more cheerfully. ‘I could eat an ox whole.’
‘We’re saving it for Eden,’ said Kate. ‘But I imagine we might find you a crust or two. And while we look, you can explain how you managed to get here past two armies. Unless the signor left you his passes?’
* * *
Neither that evening nor the following morning brought any sign of Eden and, when they heard that the King’s army was moving away towards Aynho, Dorothy’s nerves began to show distinct signs of wear. Kate, as usual, combated anxiety with activity and spent the early part of the afternoon weeding the garden and dead-heading the roses. And that was why it was past three o’clock before she learned from Tabitha that Celia had taken her horse and gone out.
‘Did she say where she was going?’ asked Kate sharply.
‘No. But I expect she’s at Far Flamstead.’ Tabitha eyed her sister with puzzled enquiry. ‘You look very odd. What’s the matter?’
‘I – nothing. I just can’t believe she’d go off like this, knowing Eden could be here at any moment.’
‘Well, he didn’t come yesterday and there’s no guarantee he’ll come today. Besides, it’s Monday. She always goes to the house on Mondays. And if Colonel Waller’s decided to follow the King, Eden may not get here at all.’
‘Which only goes to prove how wrong you can be.’ Kate’s gaze was fixed on some point beyond Tabitha, through the open window. ‘He’s here now. Look.’
Tabitha looked and then was running in the direction of the stairs. Kate followed more slowly, an unpleasant sinking sensation taking place somewhere behind her ribs.
By the time they got downstairs, Dorothy already had Eden in her arms and was bubbling over with questions. Then, seeing Toby and his sisters, Eden set her gently aside and said tonelessly, ‘I think we should all go into the parlour. I have something to tell you.’
Kate stared at him. His face was like carved ivory. A terrible fear that had nothing to do with her worries about Celia invaded her body but she quelled it and wordlessly drew Toby and Tabitha through the parlour door. Behind them, she heard her mother saying, ‘Eden … what is it? You look so ill.’ And was aware that Eden did not answer.
Once in the parlour, however, he settled his mother in a chair and, still holding her hands, dropped to his knees in front of her. Then, as if the effort of speaking was almost beyond him, he said, ‘You must be brave. There is no easy way to say this – so I’ll be quick. It’s Father. He’
s dead.’
The world turned dark and there was no air.
Tabitha made a tiny mewing sound and then stifled it with her fingers. Toby turned perfectly white and Kate sat like a stone. For a long moment, no one spoke. Then, in a voice of thread-like courtesy, Dorothy said, ‘It isn’t possible. You’re mistaken.’
‘No.’ Eden’s hands tightened their grip and his chest heaved. ‘I’m afraid not. I only wish I was.’
‘What happened?’ It was Kate who spoke, dry-eyed and shaking. ‘Did he … was it the battle?’
‘The day after. Yesterday.’ Still watching his mother, Eden assembled his words with care. ‘I don’t know how it came about – but he seems to have arrived in the King’s camp yesterday morning. There was still some skirmishing going on, so perhaps … but I can’t be sure. Indeed, had it not been for Ralph, I probably wouldn’t have --’ He stopped abruptly and then said unsteadily, ‘Mother, you have to believe me. I – I’ve seen him.’
A convulsive shudder passed through Dorothy’s frame and her eyes grew wide and dark. She felt numb from head to foot; and behind the numbness lay horror.
Eden turned his head to look helplessly at Kate. He said, ‘What shall I do?’
‘Tell her the rest quickly. None of us can stand much more of this.’
Tabitha was already sobbing silently in Toby’s arms and Kate looked as though she wanted to be sick. Turning back to Dorothy, Eden said rapidly, ‘Ralph was taken prisoner during the battle and exchanged along with some others this afternoon. He – he told me he’d seen Father’s body. So between us, we managed to arrange for the Cavaliers to release it to us … and Ralph and Tom will be bringing him home in a short while.’
Cruel, excoriating silence stretched into every corner of the room. And finally Dorothy used every ounce of her strength to say painfully, ‘How? How did he die?’
Eden swallowed hard. ‘He was shot. Through the heart.’
It had been necessary. He knew it had been necessary … but he found he could no longer bear the sight of his mother slowly disintegrating before his eyes. He dropped his head upon his hands and hers; and then the storm broke … and Kate was there to bear it with him.
* * *
Later, while Dorothy was being put to bed and dosed with the strongest opiate Kate could find, Eden was left alone with the twins. Tabitha continued to cry as if her heart would break; but Toby, though still the colour of parchment, clung grimly to his self-control.
Eden said, ‘I thank God you’re here, Toby. Mother’s going to need you.’
A peculiar tremor touched the boy’s face and, when he spoke, his voice was raw. He said, ‘I can’t believe this is happening. Why was he with the King? Why?’
‘I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense. But it will do no good to think of that now. We – we have to make ready to receive his body. And I must tell Celia. Where is she?’
‘At Far Flamstead,’ replied Toby. And then, with suppressed violence, ‘Do you think she’ll care?’
Every bone in Eden’s body ached as if it had been savagely clubbed and he was too weary to argue. He said, ‘I don’t know. I hope so. Either way, she still has to know. I’d better to and fetch her.’
‘Fetch who?’ asked Kate from the doorway.
Eden turned to face her. ‘Celia.’
‘There’s no need. She’ll come herself presently.’
‘And arrive at the same time as – as Father? I can’t let that happen.’
Why not? thought Kate bitterly.
There had been no time, as yet, for her own emotions and still wasn’t – on top of which she had somehow to stop Eden going to Far Flamstead. To be subtle as well was more than she could manage.
She said harshly, ‘What difference does it make? And you’ve other duties which require your presence here.’
‘I know. And so the sooner I go, the sooner I’ll be back.’
He was already moving towards her. Kate blocked the doorway and said explosively, ‘All right. God in heaven – all right! If you’re so set on it – let me go. Or Toby.’
‘No. You should be with Mother – and telling Celia is my job, not Toby’s.’ Eden stared down at his sister out of frowning, intolerant eyes. ‘Stand aside, Kate.’
She shook her head and watched the fuse of tension ignite.
‘Then you leave me no choice,’ he said. And, grasping her shoulders in a bruising grip, he moved her from his path and strode out.
Short of screaming out the truth before the twins, there was no way of holding him. Kate leant weakly against the wall, her arms clamped tight about the pain that was beginning to rip her apart.
Please God, she prayed, silent and despairing. Don’t let it happen. Not today. Or how shall we bear it?
* * *
Eden rode to Far Flamstead as fast as he dared. Like Kate before him, he found two horses already tethered under the trees outside … but, unlike Kate, he recognised only Celia’s bay. Preoccupied and grey with strain, he ran up the shallow steps and, opening the door, walked once more into his wife’s old home.
There was no time for memories. The elegant, impersonal hall was chilly and lightly mantled with dust, its few pieces of furniture shrouded beneath sheets. Eden took a deep preparatory breath and harnessed his dwindling resources.
‘Celia?’
His voice echoed hollowly on the still air. Then, nothing. Eden set his foot on the ornately carved staircase and started to climb. At the top, he opened his mouth to call again and then closed it as a small sound reached him; the sound of low, husky laughter. A little ahead and to his right, a door stood slightly ajar. Eden started instinctively towards it.
Nothing warned him to turn back. And, because the normal processes of thought had deserted him, he did not even check his pace. He simply arrived at the door and pushed it wide.
A fire burned low in the grate and on a small table before it were the remains of a simple meal. Reposing neatly on a chair, a scarlet riding-dress contrasted oddly with the impatient tangle of other clothing that was strewn across the floor. And in the velvet-hung bed, frozen into stunned immobility, Celia lay entangled in Hugo Verney’s arms.
It was like a moment trapped in time. Eden did not know how long he stood there, vacantly observing every tiny detail of the scene in front of him … or how long he waited for the desert inside him to be imprinted with thought. But eventually it came; irritation at his own stupidity for not being able to understand and react to the significance of what he was seeing and standing, instead, like some doltish half-wit in the doorway. Then the tableau dissolved and the spell shattered.
Celia sat up, clutching the sheet over her breasts – an instinct which Eden dimly recognised as being cripplingly ironic; and Captain Verney shot out of the far side of the bed, dragging the coverlet with him. In a play, it might have been funny. In one’s own life and on this of all days, it was cataclysmic.
Petrified by something in his face, Celia stammered, ‘Eden – d-don’t do anything silly! You – you’ve got to listen.’
‘Listen? To what? To you trying to convince me it isn’t as it seems?’ he asked gratingly. ‘But there again – why not? It will pass the time while your lover dresses.’
White-faced and decidedly disadvantaged, Hugo stepped round to the foot of the bed. He said quietly, ‘I’ll fight, of course. But I think you should know that --’
‘Keep your mouth shut or I won’t wait.’ A pulse hammered in Eden’s jaw and his fingers were already lingering on the hilt of his sword. Though not yet at their peak, the pain and anger within him needed to be exorcised; and since the means was to hand, he did not even try to resist it. He said, ‘Just put your clothes on. You, too.’
Unable to believe he meant it, Celia stared at him and opened her mouth on a word of protest.
‘Do it.’ The words cracked like a pistol shot. ‘I haven’t much time. But you don’t know about that yet, do you?’
‘Kn-know what?’ she asked. She had struggled
into her shift and her teeth were chattering with fright.
‘About Father.’ Eden let the pause build while he watched her tying her petticoats and searching for her stockings. His eyes were cold and hard and at no time did he allow them to stray to Hugo Verney. Then he said baldly, ‘He’s dead.’
Hugo froze in the act of fastening his shirt and stared at Celia’s husband, recognising that his own death-sentence lay in those words. His skin prickled and he wondered, distantly, how good Maxwell was with a sword. Very good probably … whereas he himself was no more than mediocre. But then he hadn’t spent the best part of two years at Angers. Stiffly, his fingers resumed their task. Then, not bothering to put on his coat, he reached for his sword and said expressionlessly, ‘I am at your disposal. Where do you want to settle this?’
‘Downstairs in the hall,’ replied Eden briefly. And to Celia, still struggling awkwardly with the laces of her riding-dress, ‘If you want to watch, you’ll have to hurry. I’d like to be at home when they bring back Father’s body.’
He turned through the door and, as he did so, Celia flung herself at Hugo crying, ‘Don’t go! Tell him you won’t fight. He won’t kill you in cold blood.’
‘Not normally, perhaps.’ Hugo held her briefly, then stepped back with a small twisted smile. ‘But today he might. And I don’t think he could be blamed for it.’ And, dropping a swift, hard kiss on her lips, he strode off in Eden’s wake.
Except in battle, most fights begin cautiously while you test your opponent’s skill. This one opened with a furious onslaught that jarred the bones in Hugo’s wrist and drove him back across almost the entire width of the hall. His heart was in his mouth and his only hope was that Eden’s haste and fury might make him careless. Without knowing how he did it, he managed to halt his retreat and engage the ferocious blade in a couple of moves that were not purely defensive. His nerves settled a fraction.