Deliverance opened the door to the pleasant room that served her father as a library, when he was at home. In his absence she had taken it over, and it had become her sanctuary from the world. The familiar scent of dust, beeswax polish and musty books greeted her.
The papers she had dislodged in her haste to get to the walls, still littered the floor and the large table in the centre of the room could not be seen beneath the piles of books which were stacked haphazardly around a drawing of the castle and its surrounds. She had spent hours preparing this plan for the defence of her home.
Captain Collyer picked up a much-thumbed copy of The Exercise of Armes from one of the piles on the desk, and she caught the quick glance he exchanged with his colleague.
Heat rose in Deliverance’s face. “I am afraid all my learning is from my father’s books.”
She didn't add that those books she had not found in her father's collection had been secretly ordered from her longsuffering book seller in Ludlow.
“Well, it's an excellent book,” Luke Collyer said, setting it back on the table. The quirk of his lips into a quickly suppressed smile did not escape her notice. Her skin prickled at the condescension in his tone.
She pulled the plan of the castle from beneath the tomes.
“I've had ample time in the last two weeks to consider the defence of the castle.” She flattened the creases from the paper. “Now, I think if we put a redoubt in here...” She stabbed at the paper with her forefinger. “And a defensive ditch, along here.”
When her remarks were met with silence, she looked up. Both men stared at her as if she had walked into the room stark naked.
“Is there a problem?”
Luke cleared his throat. “With respect, madam, but your father… Sir John Felton… has placed me in command of this garrison and I—”
“Do you not think me capable of having an opinion on how to defend my own home?” She fixed him with a well-practiced stare which would make a weaker man quail.
Luke Collyer returned the gaze without blinking. “I respect your opinion, madam, and if... when... I need your advice I shall ask for it.”
How dare this man speak to me in that condescending manner. She took a steadying breath and squared her shoulders. She was Deliverance Felton, chatelaine of this castle and this Collyer a mere…a mere…
“And what experience do you have, captain?”
The man’s gaze held hers and he too straightened, resting his hand on The Exercise of Armes. “I have been a soldier since I was nineteen, madam. I have fought on the continent and in the Scottish wars. Your father chose me for this task with every confidence in my abilities. You can trust me with the protection of this castle, and you can return to more appropriate concerns.”
“More appropriate concerns?” Deliverance bridled. “What is more appropriate than the safety of Kinton Lacey?”
Luke Collyer’s eyes narrowed. The unusual light grey eyes, at odds with the dark brown hair that framed his lean, tanned face were fixed on her had lost all trace of humour. She saw a hard, uncompromising soldier. “Forgive me, madam, but military matters are not for gently-bred women. All I am saying is that you are free to return to—”
“My embroidery, perhaps?” she said in a tone that dripped ice. “I assure you, Captain Collyer that the defence of my home is of far greater importance to me than its decoration. I have read all these books,” she gestured at the table, “and I warrant I know as much of matters military as you, Captain Collyer.”
“And I have had years of practical experience, madam,” he responded in a tone that matched hers for frigidity.
Melchior cleared his throat. “I think, madam, this is a discussion for the morning. These two gentlemen have ridden from Gloucester and fought a battle, vanquishing our foes. Sirs, you must be tired and hungry. Let me show you to your quarters and see you are fed. In the morning we will all be in a better position to discuss defensive works.”
Deliverance shot her steward a quick, angry glance. She did not need or want Melchior's intervention but it had the desired effect, the tension in the room dissipating as if he had opened the window and let in the breeze.
She tossed the paper back on to the table and sniffed. “Very well. If you need me, I shall be in my chamber hard at work... at my embroidery.”
“Insufferable man.” Deliverance ranted to her sister as she concluded her summation of the discussion with Captain Collyer.
Penitence looked up from her needlework. “He is a man, Liv. Of course he is going to want to take command. What does Father say?”
Deliverance pulled out their father's letter and began to read.
“Dearest daughter, I trust this letter finds you and your sister in good health. Reports of Sir Richard Farrington's increasing movements in the area of Kinton Lacey has caused me some concern, so I am sending one of my best men to you to reinforce the garrison and command the defences in the event of an attack by the King's men. I trust you to defer to Captain Collyer in all matters military. I feel more certain in my mind knowing you and my beloved Kinton Lacey are in a man's hands.”
“There you are,” Penitence commented. “Father is quite explicit. Your Captain Collyer is here to take command.”
Deliverance sniffed and continued, her eyes widening as she silently read the next sentence.
“Deliverance, daughter, I must warn you that Captain Collyer has something of a reputation and an eye for a pretty face, so I trust you to see to the protection of your sister's honor and to report to me should any indiscretion occur. Yr loving father JF.”
Deliverance set the letter down, wounded by the tone of the letter, particularly her father's last words. Beautiful, gentle and serene Penitence would always be considered the one worthy of protecting, never her.
“What's the matter?” Penitence, always intuitive to her sister's moods, looked up, her brow creased with concern. “What else did Father say?”
Deliverance forced a smile. “Nothing. Just sent us his love.” She ran a hand across her forehead. “It has been rather a trying day.”
She refolded her father’s letter and tucked it into her skirts.
“Deliverance?” her sister prompted.
“I should be grateful to Captain Collyer for relieving me of the terrible responsibility of the castle's defence. Grateful? This is my home, my castle…”
As Deliverance paced the floor, Penitence bent her head to her embroidery. Deliverance heard her sister murmur as she stabbed the needle through the cloth. “Poor man.”
Chapter 2
This is quite good,” Ned remarked as he bent over the plan of the defences that Deliverance had shown them the night before.
Luke spun the paper to face him. “Hmmph,” he agreed grudgingly. “They would be fine if we had unlimited men, supplies and time, but as we lack all three, a little more practicality is called for. Pass me that pen.”
“You better not let Deliverance catch you tampering with her plans.”
At the sound of a woman's voice, both men looked up. Penitence stood in the doorway, a smile playing at the corner of her luscious lips. Luke cast his friend a quick sidelong glance. Ned’s mouth had fallen open as he stared at the lovely Mistress Felton.
“Ned,” he said in a low voice. “Remember our conversation with Sir John.”
Ned's mouth clamped shut.
Luke glanced up at the portrait above the fireplace. The man glared down at him with such severity that he shivered. What Sir John lacked in height he made up for in force of character, and Luke could still feel the painful clench of the supposedly friendly hand the man had lain on his shoulder.
“Collyer, Barrett,” he had said, his tone exuding calm and bonhomie. “I know your reputations. If so much as a whisper reaches my ear that either of my daughters has in any way been compromised by your attentions to them, it will be my personal pleasure to firstly detach you from a certain part of your anatomy with a blunt knife and then hang you from the nearest tree. Do I
make myself quite clear?”
Looking into the man's eyes, Luke knew that Sir John meant every word and gave his solemn oath on the spot.
He shuddered at the memory and bowed respectfully to Sir John's youngest daughter.
“Good morning, Mistress Felton.”
Penitence responded with a graceful curtsey and an inclination of her head. “I trust you slept well? I am afraid accommodation within the castle is a little short.”
As they had been assigned Sir John's own bedchamber, neither man had any complaint about the accommodation.
“Oh, there you are, Pen,” Deliverance Felton appeared at the door beside her sister. She looked into the room and scowled. “Good morning, gentlemen,” she said, her voice cold.
Luke acknowledged her unenthusiastic greeting with a deep bow.
“And a good morning to you, Mistress Felton. We were just looking at your plans for the defence of the castle.” Feeling he may have got off on a bad footing with the formidable Mistress Felton the previous night, he tried to make amends. “Your work is commendable.”
Deliverance Felton's face brightened. “So do we start this morning?”
An awkward silence fell on the room as Luke and Deliverance met each other’s gaze.
“Collyer…” Ned prompted him.
“Yes, of course, we will start this morning,” Luke said at last, trying to keep his tone light and pleasant. “However, there will need to be some modifications to your excellent plan.”
Deliverance crossed to the table and looked down at the paper, now covered in crossing out, and notes written in Luke's impetuous hand. Her back stiffened and she rounded on him, her eyes hot with anger.
“What have you done? Do you know how long it took me to prepare that plan?”
“And a fine plan it is, Mistress Felton.” Luke sounded condescending even to his own ears. “But, in the circumstances we find ourselves, impractical.”
Deliverance picked up one of the books and waved it at him. For a moment Luke wondered if she planned to throw it at him. He tensed in anticipation.
“I followed the principles of defence to the letter,” she said.
“And as an academic exercise it cannot be faulted, but I'm sorry, we do not have the men or the resources to do anything more than excavate the ditches on the west wall and put palisades against the north wall. The east wall is well protected by the river. I don’t see that as a problem”
“But what about the south wall?”
Luke heard Ned draw a quick breath.
What about the south wall? They had debated that point over breakfast after a quick inspection of the castle in daylight.
The woman really did know what she was talking about.
“Mistress Felton, please do not presume to teach me my business,” Luke responded. “I've made an assessment of the castle and its surrounds this morning, and I see the major threat being to the east and north walls.”
Deliverance drew herself up, and he could see from the cast of her mouth and the determination in her chin that she was not going to meekly walk out of the room and return to her preserves…or embroidery…or whatever she should have been doing.
“Deliverance, please let's not argue among ourselves,” her sister said. “That is not what father wants.”
Deliverance cast Penitence a quick glance. “Of course, Captain Collyer. You may do as you wish. I would not presume to interfere with the command of your men.”
Something about the acquiescent smile and the sudden demure way Deliverance clasped her hands in front of her skirt, filled Luke with a cold premonition of dread.
“Thank you, Mistress Felton. I am glad you agree,” he said.
“You have made the position quite clear, Captain Collyer.” As she turned to leave the room, she stopped and without turning back, she added. “Of course, my men will continue to answer to me.”
Luke clenched his jaw shut and cast an appealing glance at Penitence who merely smiled and shrugged before gliding from the room in her sister’s wake.
Deliverance moved the food around her plate with her knife, conscious of the awkward silence around the table. Ned Barrett and Penitence had been chatting brightly but their forced cheerfulness only emphasised the brooding atmosphere between Luke Collyer and herself. Now Penitence and Ned had fallen silent.
Luke cleared his throat. “Perhaps, Mistress Felton, you could tell me a little more about Sir Richard Farrington?”
Penitence looked up, her brow furrowed with undisguised distress at the mention of the Farrington name. Deliverance sent her a warning glance and her sister returned her gaze to her plate.
“What do you wish to know?” Deliverance asked.
“What manner of man is he?”
“Sir Richard owns Brandon Hall, ten miles to our north. He and my father enjoyed relatively cordial relations before the war and indeed—”
She gave her sister’s bent head a quick glance. Luke Collyer did not need to know about Penitence's broken betrothal to Jack Farrington. “He has two sons who serve with him. The eldest, Charles, is a ...” she struggled to find the right words to describe Charles. “He is a bully. Even as a child he could be cruel.” She looked up at the high beams of the ceiling, remembering. “On one occasion I saw him kick a puppy to death.”
She returned her gaze to Luke and read the understanding in the grey depths of his eyes. She didn't really notice people's eyes, but Luke’s eyes were the colour of autumn smoke.
“I see,” Luke said “And his other son?”
“Jack is quite different,” Deliverance said, avoiding looking at Penitence. “He did not go willingly to war whereas Charles is probably thriving on it.”
“Thank you. It is always helpful to know who we are facing,” Luke said. “And Sir Richard, what resources does he bring to this affair?”
“Money and the King's ear,” Deliverance said with a trace of bitterness in her voice. “He would like to own Kinton Lacey. We have forestry rights and a tin mine that he covets.”
Luke raised an eyebrow. “Rich pickings indeed.”
Deliverance nodded. “So you see why we must hold our land?”
Luke shrugged. “He probably already has the mine.”
“And his men are making free use of the forest. I know this is the fate of war, Captain Collyer. Do you think he will leave us in peace now you are here?”
Luke laughed and took a swig of wine. He set the cup down and shook his head. “You're no fool, Mistress Felton. He can profess to seize your land and assets in the King's name but it is total possession he seeks, and to accomplish that end he must drive you out of Kinton Lacey.”
Deliverance looked down at her cold, congealing meal. Silly, girlish tears pricked her eyes. She sniffed them back and set her mouth in a determined line before she looked up again. “Then he takes it over my dead body.” Her gaze moved to Penitence. “But Penitence, if you want to go to father in Gloucester—”
Penitence's blue eyes blazed. “Never! As long as you are here, Liv, I will not leave.”
Luke Collyer looked at Penitence and his face softened. An old grievance clawed at her. What was it about Penitence that made the hardest man soft and pliable?
“Your sister is right, Mistress Felton. You may be safer in Gloucester,” he said, addressing Penitence.
“You use the word ‘may’, Captain Collyer. I doubt anywhere in England is safe and I am not going to be driven from my home by bullies like Sir Richard and Charles Farrington,” Penitence declared.
“Well said,” Ned raised his cup. “To the defence of Kinton Lacey.”
Luke flung his hat on to the table with such force that Ned had to spring to the aid of the ink stand before it toppled over, restoring it to an upright position. Luke scowled down at him.
“What’s the problem?” Ned asked.
“That...woman...” Luke said in a low growl.
Ned sat back and thoughtfully picked apart the quill feathers of his pen. “Of course,” he
mused. “What's she done now?”
“Every time I give an order, she countermands it and issues another order. Her men will only do what she tells them, and mine are so confused they don't know what to do.”
Luke strode over to the window and leaned on the sill looking down into the courtyard where his soldiers, under the redoubtable Sergeant Hale, were occupied in cutting staves of wood to use for the palisade.
“I wouldn't mind, but there are times when what she says makes perfect sense and I curse myself for not thinking of it myself,” he admitted.
“Well, she knows this castle well and, to be honest, she is certainly better read on the subject of defence than you.”
Luke turned to look at his friend. “You don't learn to be a soldier from a book, Ned. You know that.”
“Perhaps if you stop persisting in treating her like a woman, and started thinking of her as a colleague in arms, you may get further?” Ned ventured.
“What do you mean?”
“Luke, I've been your friend through thick and thin for at least six years,” Ned set the pen down, “and it is my observation that those women who don't fall at your feet in adoration, are, to your way of thinking, good for only washing your clothes and feeding you.”
“That's a little harsh,” Luke said indignantly. “I like women.”
“And mostly they like you. But I'm afraid in Deliverance Felton you have met a woman that will neither fall at your feet nor ensure you have clean linen and a full belly.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“Give her a role in the defence of this castle. Something which gives her a sense of purpose and keeps her out of our way.”
Luke's lips tightened and he glanced down to the courtyard where Deliverance was engaged in heated conversation with Sergeant Hale, which to judge from the gesticulating, involved the length of the staves his men were employed in cutting.
“Oh, dear Lord, now what's she up to?” Luke shuddered. The last three days she had driven him to distraction. Ned was right, he had to come up with a constructive solution to the dilemma.
Her Rebel Heart: A romance of the English Civil War Page 2