The Black Madonna (Roundheads & Cavaliers Book 1)

by Stella Riley

‘No. But I watched its creation many years ago by – by a man who once taught me. And it’s the only example of his work I possess.’

  The air evaporated in Kate’s lungs. His father. He was talking about his father … and he was giving her the only souvenir he had of him. Tears stung her eyes but, before she could speak, Luciano said abruptly, ‘Sit down, Caterina. You’ve understood rather more than I intended – but that’s where it must stop. And there are other, more pressing things to be said.’

  A trifle shakily, Kate took the stool beside the fire and watched him settle gracefully on the rug at her feet. Then, frowning a little, he said, ‘There’s no diplomatic way to put this – so I’ll come straight to the point. I’m not staying.’

  The words took a long time to sink in. But finally she said, ‘You mean you’re going back to London tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes.’ A pause. ‘I also mean that I’m not going to sleep with you tonight.’

  A strange and not very pleasant plummeting sensation took place behind her ribs. She said, ‘If – if that’s a joke, it’s not very funny.’

  ‘You think I don’t know that?’ Holding every nerve and muscle under rigid control, he looked sombrely up at her. ‘But this isn’t a matter of choice – it’s a necessity. I don’t know how long I’ll be away this time … and I never take the same risk twice. In short, I’m making sure I don’t leave you pregnant.’

  ‘Does that matter so very much?’ she asked wistfully.

  ‘Yes.’ The possibility that this night’s work might place Caterina in danger was already more than he could bear even without other complications. ‘Yes. It matters a great deal.’

  ‘I see.’ She thought about it and then, striving for lightness, said, ‘Well, that’s very chivalrous of you. But aren’t we supposed to consummate our marriage?’

  ‘We did that three months ago,’ came the flat reply. ‘Please try to understand. It’s not that I don’t want to stay --’

  ‘Then stay.’ Continuing to hold his gaze and resolutely squashing her pride, Kate said, ‘We – we needn’t make love if you’d rather not. But, if you’re to be away for months on end, at least we could be together for this one night.’

  ‘Caterina – no.’ Without thinking what he was doing, he reached out to grasp her hands and pull her down beside him. ‘It’s not possible. Can’t you see?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I’m not a bloody machine!’ snapped Luciano. And, powerless to resist the impulse this time, drew her hard against his chest and kissed her.

  Kate’s mouth opened under his and her arms slid round his neck, pulling him even closer. Heat instantly flared between them and was intensified by frustrated desperation. Luciano made no attempt to hide his ravening hunger and Kate answered it with an equally blatant offer. He kissed her eyelids, her jaw, her throat and then possessed her mouth again, his hands re-learning the curves of her body and moulding it to his own. Kate gave a tiny sobbing moan and tangled her fingers in his hair. He hadn’t truly meant to leave. He couldn’t have done.

  Aeons later – or perhaps it was only minutes – Luciano slowly released her to look into her eyes. His breathing was as disturbed at hers and he knew that if he didn’t go now, he was lost. Letting his hands slide quietly from her, he said, ‘Now do you see? No self-discipline whatsoever. And that’s why I have to go. Will you forgive me … and perhaps also be patient?’

  She watched him get to his feet and discovered that she was shaking.

  ‘You know – you know you need not ask. But you must promise me that you’ll take care. I am afraid for you.’

  ‘Don’t be.’ He smiled at her and hoped it was reassuring. ‘Or if you must worry, let it be because I promise I’ll live to plague you. That ought to be enough to put the fear of God into anyone.’

  And, stooping to deliver one last, lingering kiss, he was gone.

  ~ * * ~ * * ~

  FIVE

  Luciano left for London taking Toby with him and Thorne Ash seemed suddenly very empty. The loss of Richard was still an open wound and the absence of Eden, Gianetta and Toby was not calculated to make matters any better. Tabitha bemoaned the eternal quiet; Dorothy tried to fill her days with the rearing of Eden’s children; and Kate, shouldering the burden of estate-management with increasing ease, wondered how long she must wait for the man she had married to allow her to be his wife.

  The suddenness of his departure was a source of piercing disappointment and his absence a steadily growing ache. People said you didn’t miss what you’d never had … but Kate knew it for a lie. She’d never had Luciano’s company on a daily basis but she missed him at every step – from the second she awoke each morning to the time she lay sleepless on her pillow at night. And no matter how busy she kept herself, nothing seemed to mend it.

  Then, five days after Luciano’s departure, half the sheep in the upper pasture fell violently sick and died within twenty-four hours. It was Kate’s first farming crisis and she dealt with it as best she could, spending almost the whole night out in the byre helping Jacob Bennet and John and James Carter dose the dying beasts. Then, chilled to the bone and thoroughly depressed, she went in to break the news to her mother.

  ‘I don’t know what happened. The rest of the flock is down in Meadow Bottom, apparently perfectly healthy – so it doesn’t look like something contagious or more of them would be coming down with it. And if it’s something they ate – which is what I first thought – how come only half of them were affected: It doesn’t make sense.’ She took a cautious sip of the hot posset Dorothy had placed in her hands and then frowned irritably. ‘And I thought I’d got everything so nicely under control, too. Serves me right, doesn’t it?’

  ‘You can’t blame yourself, Kate. These things happen from time to time. All farms have the occasional disaster. It’s part of life.’

  Two weeks later, one of the outlying barns caught fire, illuminating the countryside for miles around and reducing two hundred bales of hay to ashes before anyone could do more than fill a few buckets.

  More bad luck? thought Kate, staring moodily at the smoking debris in the cold dawn light. Or a sudden plague of carelessness? And if Flossie’s right and these things always come in threes, what misfortune will befall us next? Flood? Pestilence? Or will we be lucky and just get the frogs?

  But as the days became weeks and no fresh catastrophe struck, it began to seem that she’d panicked too soon. Life slid back into its usual rhythm and they were all able to take more of an interest in outside affairs – such as the Scots finally taking Newcastle while, behind them, Montrose and his Irish tore their way through Aberdeen. Closer to home and slightly less amusing was the arrival on October 25th of a Royalist relief-force which put a summary end to the Castle garrison’s fourteen-week ordeal – just in time, so rumour said, to prevent the last two horses being turned into collops. And not amusing at all, because Eden had presumably been there, was a second big battle in Newbury in which the Cavaliers managed to hold their own against the combined might of Waller, Essex, Manchester and Cromwell. Mercurius Britannicus reported a huge parliamentary victory; Mercurius Aulicus preferred to dwell on Lord Manchester’s increasing disenchantment with the war in general – and Oliver Cromwell in particular.

  November brought a lonely old man back to the public eye when the Commons decided to encourage its Scots allies by hauling Archbishop Laud from his cell in the Tower and putting him on trial. And while the Committee of Both Kingdoms sat down to consider reorganising the army, a new peace delegation was sent to the King – only to return with the inevitable flea in its ear.

  Throughout all this, word came neither from Eden nor Luciano and Kate did not know which of the silences annoyed or worried her more. If anything had happened to Eden, they would doubtless have heard by now; and, if not, she felt he might at least have a care for their mother’s peace of mind and send some message. As for Luciano, she spoke of her fears to no one and only gave way to them when she was alone in her roo
m at night. She wrote endless letters to him … only to cram them out of sight in a drawer.

  The month slid by on leaden feet and the weather began to turn seasonally murky. Cromwell accused Manchester of failing to prosecute the war with due diligence; Manchester called Cromwell a dangerous radical. And at Thorne Ash, the first week of December brought a recurrence of small accidents.

  Wheels fell off carts, depositing produce in the mud; gaps appeared in fences allowing livestock to wander; milk curdled and the hens stopped laying. Kate started to dread the sight of Jacob Bennet appearing grim-faced on the doorstep and Dorothy, with the words ‘damage and disruption’ ringing unpleasantly in her ears, found herself becoming more than a little frightened.

  It was not, however, until Jude went missing that she finally screamed her fears into Kate and Tabitha’s at first uncomprehending ears.

  ‘He’ll be hiding,’ said Kate. ‘I’ll go and alert the servants. We’ll soon find him.’

  And taking hold of her daughter’s shoulders in a biting grip, Dorothy had shouted back. ‘We won’t! Someone’s taken him – can’t you see? It’s all of a piece with everything else that’s happened since you married that thrice-damned Italian!’

  Suddenly very still, Kate stared at her.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Sabotage,’ came the uneven reply. ‘Sadistic games, he called it. And now we’ve become a target, too. But we’re wasting time. The important thing is to find Jude. He was in the yard with Meg and Eve – only then Eve fell over and Meg brought her in to Flossie and, when she went out again, Jude had vanished.’

  ‘And you think someone’s taken him?’ said Tabitha, still without really believing it.

  ‘Yes! How many more times? Get everyone you can find and look for him. It’s been barely twenty minutes so he can’t be far away yet. Move!’

  With the aid of all the servants and every tenant Kate could reach, they combed the house and garden and outbuildings, the orchard, the lanes and every cottage within a three-mile radius – all without finding a trace of Eden’s small son.

  ‘It will be dark in a couple of hours,’ said Kate numbly to Adam Woodley. And then, with agonised violence, ‘He’s only three years old! How could anyone do such a thing?’

  ‘Don’t know, Miss Kate,’ came the flat reply. ‘But if I get my hands on the evil bugger, I’ll break his bloody neck. Meantime, we’ll look a bit further afield. As far as the main road, maybe. I’ll get Jack and Mr Bennet.’

  Another hour wore by. Kate made her mother return to the house before she dropped with fatigue and anxiety, and then set out again herself on horseback with one-eyed John Carter to search the woods for the second time. The light started to fade and her voice grew hoarse with calling – yet still they found nothing.

  ‘Better go on back, Mistress,’ said Carter. ‘We can’t do nothing in the dark.’

  ‘We can,’ snapped Kate. ‘We can get torches and search all night if necessary. And if food and rest mean more to you than the life of a little boy, you can seek employment elsewhere.’ And without further ado, she led the way smartly back in the direction of the house with Mr Carter trailing sullenly behind.

  Then, as they rejoined the lane, Kate saw four horsemen approaching through the dusk. Three she recognised as the Woodley brothers and Jacob Bennet … and the fourth, with his cloak wrapped securely about the drowsy form of her small nephew, became gradually and surprisingly identifiable as Ralph Cochrane.

  With an odd little choking sound, Kate slid recklessly from the saddle to hurl herself at Ralph’s horse.

  ‘Thank God – oh, thank God! Where did you find him?’

  ‘On the Southam road,’ replied Ralph grimly. ‘Damned nearly ran over him, poor little chap. He was frightened to death and half frozen. Then I met your fellows here and they told me you suspect somebody of making off with him. Is that true?’

  ‘Yes.’ She reached up to touch Jude’s cheek. ‘But that can wait. Right now he needs to be got into the house before he catches his death. I – I don’t know how to thank you, Ralph. Mother will be so relieved.’

  Mere relief in no way described Dorothy’s feelings – which, for one second, threatened to completely overset her. Then, summoning Meg and Goodwife Flossing, she became suddenly and intensely practical and Jude was whisked away to hot milk and a warm bed without even opening his eyes.

  It was an hour or more before Dorothy reappeared, by which time Kate had called off the various searches and Tabitha had installed Mr Cochrane in the best spare bedchamber with a tankard of mulled ale and a jug of hot water for washing. Then, when they were all assembled in the parlour, Dorothy said baldly, ‘I was right. Jude says a man took him for a ride on his horse to see the baby foxes and then left him.’

  ‘Who?’ asked Kate. ‘Someone he knew?’

  ‘Yes – though not by name,’ came the bitter reply. ‘A man with a funny hand, he said. In short, James Carter.’

  ‘Carter?’ echoed Tabitha. ‘But why?’

  ‘Presumably because he was paid.’ Kate rose. ‘Excuse me. I’m just going to part Adam Woodley from his supper and give him the chance he’s been praying for.’

  ‘Wait,’ said Ralph. ‘I don’t know what’s going on, but it seems some answers are needed before Mr Woodley pulverises the fellow - so it might be as well if I went along too.’

  ‘Go,’ invited Dorothy. ‘You’ll find Adam in the kitchen.’ And, when the door had closed behind him, ‘It’s a pity Eden can’t be bothered to come himself – but we can thank God for Ralph. I suppose he’s come with a message?’

  ‘I haven’t asked.’ Kate remained on her feet, staring tensely at her mother. ‘Now Jude is safe, all I care about is hearing why you feel our problems are somehow Luciano’s fault. What, for example, is all this about sadistic games?’

  Dorothy closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them.

  ‘He’s apparently been suffering something of the sort himself. The trouble is that he doesn’t know who’s behind them – only that it’s the man he’s looking for in connection with his father’s death.’ She paused, then added wearily, ‘I wasn’t supposed to tell you. He’s afraid any knowledge you acquire – or just the mere fact of your marriage, should it become known – may put you in danger. And it seems he’s right.’

  Kate sat down on the nearest stool, her mind working furiously. Finally, she said acidly, ‘And of course it occurred to neither of you that forewarned is forearmed? Or that it was just possible – if I’d known all this – that I might conceivably have been a little more cautious about employing casual labour? Do neither of you think I’ve got a brain, damn it?’ She stopped, forcing back the sudden burst of temper. Then, ‘However. You may as well tell me the rest. What sort of disasters has Luciano been facing?’

  ‘He didn’t say. My goodness, Kate – you know what he’s like. He’d rather have bled to death than tell me the little he did.’

  ‘But somehow you persuaded him.’

  ‘Not exactly. I simply made it plain that, if he expected to marry you, he didn’t have any choice. And frankly, if I’d known what was going to come of it, I’d have refused my consent and told him to come back when he’d put his house in order. You should never have married him, Kate – and I don’t know what he was thinking of when he asked you.’

  Chin on hands and eyes wide with interest, Tabitha said, ‘I wish somebody would tell me why this man’s making trouble for Luciano – and us.’

  ‘Because he appears to have arranged the death of Luciano’s father and knows that Luciano is looking for him,’ said Dorothy, her gaze still fixed on her eldest daughter. ‘And now – forget that you know anything about it. Both of you.’

  Kate’s brows rose. ‘Rather a tall order when the person at the centre of all this happens to be my husband,’ she began. And then broke off as the door opened again on Ralph.

  Frowning, he moved forward under three pairs of eyes and said tersely, ‘We were too late.
The fellow’s already dead.’

  Kate swallowed. ‘How?’

  ‘Murdered by the other one, at a guess – since that one-eyed brother of his is nowhere to be found.’ Ralph considered the matter and then added, ‘If you really want to know, his skull was split like an apple. I’ve left Adam and Jack Woodley digging a hole to bury him in.’

  Dorothy looked faintly sick.

  ‘Can we do that?’

  ‘Only thing to do, in my opinion,’ came the prosaic reply. ‘It will save a lot of explanations. And you can’t deny that the bas– - that the fellow deserved it.’

  ‘Quite.’ Kate rose and went to pour wine for Ralph. ‘But what I can’t understand is why John killed him. Surely they must have been in it together?’

  ‘Looks like it.’ Ralph took the glass she offered and sat down. ‘But the dead one proved unreliable and had to go. Or that’s how I view it, anyway. You see, I don’t think Jude was supposed to be found.’

  There was a long, chilling silence. Then Tabitha said chokingly, ‘That’s horrible!’

  ‘Yes. Yes, it is,’ agreed Kate weakly, her eyes locked with her mother’s. ‘And so we’d all better make sure that nothing like it can happen again.’

  Ralph looked from one to the other of them.

  ‘I don’t suppose anybody would like to tell me about it?’

  ‘There’s nothing to tell,’ said Kate quickly. ‘I should never have taken the Carters on in the first place when I knew nothing about them.’

  ‘But a little earlier you spoke of them being paid by someone to do what they did.’

  ‘Did I?’ Kate’s brow creased in a fair assumption of perplexity. ‘But that was just a guess, you know. And James’ death puts a whole different complexion on things. No. We’ve nothing to worry about now and are just overwhelmingly grateful to you for all you’ve done.’

  ‘Think nothing of it.’ He didn’t believe a word but knew he was being told not to press the matter. ‘I was just in the right place at the right time.’