by Stella Riley
‘What, exactly?’
‘Truthfully? A place full of shadows and evil memories.’ Another pause and then, apologetically, ‘Basically, I can’t stand the thought of living in it. And selling it will not only get rid of Bernard and Jenny but also hopefully raise most of what we need. There must be some jumped-up colonel of Cromwell’s or a merchant who’s made a killing during the war who’d like to add ‘of Trent House’ to his name. It’ll mean that you and I are living in a cottage on the estate while I learn to be a farmer and we won’t be much better off than we are now – but it’s the best I can do. Will you mind?’
‘Yes.’ Abigail drew away to fix him with a troubled gaze. ‘I’ll mind very much if you’re doing this just for me. If it was as simple as you make it sound, you’d have told me about it two months ago instead of – of —’
‘Of putting us both through hell? Yes, I know. I’ve been a fool.’
‘No. But you must take me for one. It’s the oaths, isn’t it?’ she said broodingly. ‘You, as I know only too well, believe in keeping your promises. So you don’t want to take the oaths because you know you’ll be lying. And that’s why you decided to let the estate go.’
‘That was last October, before I had a reason for claiming it.’ He held her gaze with his own. ‘I can’t take you abroad, Abby and I’ve already explained all the reasons why.’ He took her hands and smiled at her. ‘Few things come absolutely free, you know. And since I love you too much to lose you, I’ll put my tongue in my cheek and swear their damned oaths. It’s no sacrifice, believe me. And even if it was, I’d still do it because I can’t bear to be alone again. Not now.’
It was the simple truth, prosaically stated and it brought Abigail back against his shoulder. ‘There is no question of that. You know I will go anywhere. And a cottage where we can be alone together sounds perfect.’
‘Good. Then you’ll come with me to Trent.’ He fell silent for a moment, savouring her closeness. Then, with a hint of laughter, ‘Do you realise I’ve been worried sick about having to tell you all this?’
‘That was silly of you.’ She coiled a strand of walnut hair about her fingers. ‘But perhaps you should consider a little. About marrying me, I mean.’
Justin was suddenly very still. ‘Why?’
‘Because Lady Templeton shouldn’t be a shopkeeper’s sister.’
There was a long pause. Then he tipped her head back with an ungentle hand and said flatly, ‘If you ever say such a thing to me again, I swear to God, I’ll … I’ll …’ He stopped to kiss her long and hard. ‘I’ll do something seriously unpleasant, the nature of which escapes me at the moment.’
Presently and with difficulty, Abigail said, ‘Are you sure? Are you sure about going to Trent?’
‘Yes. It’s all arranged.’ His tongue investigated the hollow beneath her left ear. ‘Getting rid of the house will be a relief. It’s a pity I can’t get rid of the bloody title as easily.’
‘Is it?’
‘Yes. Why must you go on about it?’
‘To make you think what you’re doing.’
‘I have thought. I’m tired of thinking. What’s more, I’m tired of having you think.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Breathless under the enticing drift of his hands, she managed one final flicker of provocation. ‘What’s all arranged?’
‘Passes … Ned and Lucy … everything. Are you going to talk all night?’
‘No.’ Her mouth quivered against his throat. ‘No. I hope not.’
~ * ~
TWENTY-SEVEN
On the following day, the last one before they were due to leave, Justin and the other officers completed the task of collecting and cataloguing everything that was to be left behind. Pistols and muskets were packed and loaded on carts ready for removal on the morrow; all the other tools of their trade - powder and shot, pikes, armour and cannon - lay neatly stored to await the arrival of Colonel Whalley’s besieging force. And, once their work was done, everyone from Sir William down to the humblest trooper set about the serious business of cleaning and polishing every accoutrement and item of clothing they would be wearing when the final moment came.
At the top of the south-east turret, meanwhile, Abigail did a little packing, washed her hair and sat down on the hearth to give Rex a thorough brushing while it dried. Justin came up shortly after five, his sleeves rolled up, his shirt sweat-stained and filthy and his hands ingrained with grease.
Abigail looked him over and shook her head in mock-disapproval.
‘Can’t you stay clean for five minutes?’
‘Apparently not. There are so many nice things to play with – and I may never have the chance again. Don’t be cross.’ He advanced towards her, grinning. ‘Give me a kiss.’
She backed away.
‘Don’t you dare! You said there was to be a formal dinner tonight and, in case you haven’t noticed, I’ve already got changed.’ It had, in fact, taken the best part of an hour to get last night’s creases out of the apricot silk. ‘Give me your shirt.’
He pulled it off and tossed it to her. Then, hopefully, ‘Anything else?’
‘Every stitch you’re wearing, I imagine. No – don’t come near me! That wasn’t an invitation.’
‘How disappointing. Why not?’
‘Because you’ve only half an hour to make yourself presentable – and I’m taking this down to the laundry.’
By the time she came back he was washed, shaved and had changed into a clean shirt beneath the claret coat. He saluted smartly and said, ‘Madam. Will I pass muster?’
He looked incredibly attractive. Abigail swallowed and said, ‘Just about, I should think.’
She had forgotten how fast he could move when he chose and, without any warning, one arm was about her waist and his other hand was lifting her chin.
‘Just about? Is that the best you can do?’
‘No. But if I said what I really think, we might not get downstairs.’
‘Ah. Yes. Well, that gives me something to contemplate through dinner, doesn’t it?’ He gave her a slow, seductive kiss and then offered her his arm. ‘And it’s not the common-room tonight. Since it’s the last time we’re all going to be together, we’re dining in the Governor’s quarters.’
Sir William had pulled out all the stops and the room looked much as it had done on the night he’d entertained Princes Rupert and Maurice. Candlelight flickered on silver cutlery and white damask, the air was filled with the scent of roasted meat … and every officer in the garrison had turned up, dressed in their best. Lucy, in deference to her condition, had been awarded the large, carved chair normally occupied by Sir William; Abigail found herself seated between Captains Vaughan and Frost with Justin facing her across the table. Everyone else fitted in wherever there was an empty place.
When they were all assembled and glasses had been filled, Sir William rose and said, ‘Ladies and gentlemen … a toast, if you please, to His Majesty the King.’ Then, when everyone was seated again, ‘This may be a last supper but I hope you will all feel free to enjoy yourselves. We have done our duty to the best of our ability and have nothing with which to reproach ourselves. So when we march out tomorrow, we march out with pride.’
Inevitably, at first, much of the talk was concerned with the terms of the surrender.
‘The colours were an issue,’ admitted Will. ‘I did my best to persuade him to allow us to at least keep the Royal Standard, tattered though it now is – but he wouldn’t budge. Not to be wondered at, really – but disappointing all the same.’
‘To be fair, Whalley’s been extremely reasonable,’ remarked Hugh. ‘If it had been Rainsborough, now – the story might have been rather different. I doubt that man’s got a reasonable bone in his entire body.’
‘You’re thinking of Prior’s Hill Fort at Bristol,’ said Justin. ‘But he couldn’t do that here. They didn’t surrender.’
‘Couldn’t do what?’ asked Lieutenant Pulteney.
Justin caught the
Governor’s eye and, shrugging, declined to answer.
‘Put everyone inside to the sword,’ supplied Major Walrond.
‘Thank you, Charles. I’m sure the ladies wanted to know that,’ said Will gently. Then, ‘Hugh is right, of course. Colonel Whalley has been reasonable. In certain respects, one might even say generous.’ He looked again at Justin. ‘He’s amended your pass, by the way and has agreed to a little flexibility on time in the morning – should we need it.’
Lucy smiled and bent her head over her plate. Ned turned a laugh into a cough and Hugh communed silently with the ceiling.
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Justin, face and voice completely expressionless.
‘Why should we need extra time?’ asked Major Walrond.
‘Just a precaution,’ replied Will vaguely. ‘You know how it is, Charles. There’s always some little thing that crops up at the last minute. Pass the salt, would you?’
‘Did Colonel Whalley say anything about what’s happening in Oxford?’ asked Ned.
‘Only that Fairfax has thrown a ring round it and is presumably waiting for capitulation. I don’t imagine he’ll have to wait long. The place is so hopelessly overcrowded, they’ll run out of provisions in no time. And though the troops may be prepared to eat horses and rats rather than surrender, the lords and ladies of the court won’t. Also, Rupert’s still there – and his approach is nothing if not practical.’
The talk flowed on. Justin found himself watching Abigail eat a meal without merely picking at it. He felt a wave of satisfaction that went some way towards dispelling the knot of apprehension that had been growing all day at the prospect of taking her out into an uncertain future with a lot less coin in his pocket than he would have liked. He pushed a platter of salted green beans towards her, saying, ‘These appear to have escaped your attention.’
She took some of them. ‘So they have. Thank you.’
He continued to look into her eyes, his own overflowing with love … and saw her answering smile. Then, unintentionally, his expression changed to something rather different and his gaze dropped to her mouth. Abigail’s fingers tightened on her knife; her colour rose and her breathing shortened.
From her place further down the table, Lucy looked from one to the other of them and, fanning herself with her hand, murmured, ‘Oh my!’
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Ned, rising quickly to go to her. ‘Do you feel unwell?’
‘No.’ She jerked her chin in Justin’s direction and whispered, ‘Just a little hot.’
Ned looked and grinned. ‘Nothing subtle about that, is there?’
It wasn’t until Abigail shifted in her seat, fidgeting a little, that Justin fully realised what he’d been doing and sought refuge in his wine-glass in order to stop doing it. Abigail drew a long, faintly unsteady breath and returned, without much interest, to her dinner.
It was another hour or so before Sir William rose saying, ‘It’s an early start in the morning, gentlemen – so I won’t keep you from your beds. Everything needs to be in train by nine o’clock and I’d like us to make a gallant showing. But in case there is no opportunity tomorrow, may I say now that it’s been a very great privilege serving with you all and that I wish every one of you the best of fortune.’
During the inevitable hand-shaking and back-thumping that followed, Lucy beckoned to Abigail and said, ‘I’ve put a travelling cloak aside for you. No – don’t argue. You’ll need it. Ask Justin to come and get it in the morning.’ She smiled naughtily. ‘I’d say tonight – except that I suspect he has other things on his mind.’
Abigail blushed afresh and lost herself in a tangle of half-sentences.
On the other side of the room, Captain Frost was pushing a purse into Justin’s hand.
‘It’s not a great deal,’ he said bluntly, ‘but it may help. No – listen. Lucy and I will be home in less than three hours and won’t need money at all. So just take it, there’s a good fellow.’
It was a moment before Justin had sufficient command of his voice to answer. Then he said, ‘That’s exceptionally good of you, Ned. I won’t deny that I’ve … I’ve been a little worried about how we’ll manage just at first. So thank you. It’s a loan, of course.’
‘No it’s not, you idiot. Call it a wedding present. And don’t bloody argue.’
*
Alone at last in their room, Justin put his arms about Abigail and held her close for a long moment. Finally, he said, ‘We should get married. Soon.’
‘Mm.’ Her face was against his throat and the fingers of one hand tangled in his hair.
‘You’re not listening, are you? You’re …’ He sought for a word that didn’t sound utterly ludicrous and, failing, said, ‘You’re … inhaling me.’
A quiver of laughter rippled through her. ‘I can do both.’
Silence fell again. Then Justin said, ‘You know … when I was first sent here, I hated it with a passion. I was angry and resentful and bitter. And now … now I’m sorry to leave.’ He paused. ‘If I could have found a way for you to see your mother before —’
‘I know. But it’s not possible. On the other hand, I imagine half the town will turn out to see us go, so perhaps…’
‘Yes. Perhaps.’ He dropped a light kiss on her hair and sighed. ‘Will was right. We’re going to have to be up at first light and it will be a long day thereafter. We ought to sleep.’
Abigail tilted her head to examine his expression.
‘So why were you looking at me that way across the table earlier?’
‘Looking at you what way?’
‘You know very well. As if … as if you wanted to … right there and then.’
His smile was slow and a little wicked. ‘I did.’
‘Oh. Well, then.’
‘Well, then.’ He let his arms fall away from her and stepped back slightly. Then, reaching up to take the pins from her hair, he said, ‘Indulge me, will you?’
‘Yes. How?’
‘Let me undress you. Just that.’ Her hair tumbled down in a curling black cloud. He laid the hairpins on the table and took her mouth in an easy, lingering kiss. ‘But it may take some time.’
‘Oh,’ said Abigail again, as the first jolt of anticipation flickered through her. She swallowed. ‘And can I —?’
‘No. Or not yet.’ The grey eyes were curiously intent. ‘Turn round.’
Slowly, she did so and, assuming he was going to unlace her gown, moved to pull her hair out of the way. Justin batted her hand aside and said merely, ‘No.’
She felt him lift her hair and lay it gently over her shoulder. Then his lips feathered tiny kisses along the nape of her neck while his fingers dealt unhurriedly with her laces. The gown loosened around her but he made no immediate attempt to remove it. Instead, he slid his arms round her and nuzzled her ear. Abigail’s breath hitched and she leaned back against him. And finally, Justin let the apricot silk slither down her arms to the floor. Setting both hands on her waist, he lifted her out of it, picked up the gown and gave it a shake.
Abigail turned to look at him. He smiled in a way that made her pulse jump and said, ‘Don’t go away.’ Then, laying her dress across the carved chest, he stripped off his sash and coat and placed them with it. And, crossing back to her, ‘Now … where were we?’
‘I don’t know. Please will you —’
He laid one finger against her lips. ‘No. Not that word. Ask me, tell me, say whatever you wish. But not that word. Not until you can’t not say it. Or,’ he finished darkly, ‘until I can’t.’
‘I want …’ She stopped and then tried again. ‘Kiss me.’
He did so but, as before, kept it deliberately tantalising. Abigail sighed and clutched at his shirt, wanting more. Justin smiled again and began unlacing her stays.
Almost conversationally, he said, ‘This is a pleasure I’ve not had before.’
‘No. I don’t often … only when I have to …’
‘So I’ve gathered.’ One at a time and each with a ti
ny tug, he slid the laces from their holes and let the corset drop to the floor. His fingers skimmed her shoulders and on, fleetingly, over her breasts beneath the cambric chemise. A tremor ran through her and she gave a tiny, inarticulate moan. His hands came to rest on her waist, thumbs caressing the bottom of her rib-cage. He said, ‘What next?’
Abigail licked her lips and managed weakly, ‘Your shirt.’
‘It’s yours.’ He pulled it over his head and discarded it. She laid her hands against the warm skin of his chest and tried to move closer to him but he held her off, saying, ‘Not yet. Next, I think, the petticoats. There seem to be a great many of them.’
While he found and slowly untied four sets of tapes, his mouth brushed hers, parting her lips with the tip of his tongue before moving on to her cheek and jaw. Abigail clung to his shoulders, her bones melting and her veins on fire. It seemed to take an age before the petticoats dropped to the floor and his hands were free to drift lightly over her back, her waist, her hips. Desperate now to feel his body against hers, she pulled him towards her – and this time, he not only let her but allowed her one brief but undeniably demanding kiss. Everything inside her dissolved and she shuddered with the force of it.
Justin shifted her to sit on the edge of the bed and knelt before her, taking one stockinged foot in his hand. He looked up, his eyes hot and hungry. ‘Another new pleasure.’
Beyond speech, she simply gazed back at him.
Still entirely without haste, he pushed back her shift and untied her garter. Then, rolling the stocking down a little, he bent to place his mouth against the bare skin above it. Abigail gasped and her fingers clenched on the bed-cover. He drew the stocking slowly away, his fingers trailing down her inner thigh and placed another kiss on her toes. Then he turned his attention to her other leg. This time, the kiss on her thigh was rather more lingering and Abigail gave a sob of desire. The stocking followed its mate and, somewhat raggedly, Justin said, ‘What next?’