Her Rebel Heart: A romance of the English Civil War

by Alison Stuart

  Deliverance scanned the disreputable ranks of unshaven men, still covered in dirt from their day's work on the defences.

  She cleared her throat and looked down at the nosegay, the scent of the meadow sweetening the air around her. A lump rose in her throat and she swallowed it down. Tears were not appropriate at this moment.

  With an effort she looked up and spoke, keeping her voice strong and clear. “Thank you, all of you. What I learned on our reconnaissance to Ludlow is that we will be faced with great adversity over the coming weeks, and there will be times when we will need all the strength God gave us. It heartens me to know that we have such loyal men beside us.”

  “Amen!” Sgt Hale declared. “Let us join together in prayer for the safe delivery of this castle from the hands of the foul fiends.”

  When the seemingly interminable prayer had ended, Luke stepped forward. “Enough. Back to work all of you.”

  The men dispersed and Deliverance looked down at the wilted flowers in her hand. “I didn't expect this,” she said in a small, quiet voice.

  “That is why it is important,” Luke said. “Those men will die for you now.”

  She looked back at the empty courtyard and sighed. “They shouldn't have to. They should be home with their own families, bringing in the harvest.”

  “That is the tragedy of war.”

  Luke took the flowers from her hand and handed them to one of the maids who had come out of the residence with a bucket of water.

  “Put these in Mistress Felton’s chamber, girl.” He crooked his elbow. “Now, Mistress Felton, about that walk.”

  As they strolled out of the castle, Luke glanced at his companion. He had ample opportunity to study her face on the long, fraught ride back from Ludlow. In the dark of the largely sleepless night that followed their safe return he had reached the conclusion that while she paled in the shadow of her classically-beautiful younger sister, there was strength of character in her strong jaw and determination and intelligence in her bright eyes and the curve of her mouth.

  For some reason, he had never had cause to consider before, he found those characteristics infinitely more attractive than Penitence's oval face, blue eyes and golden curls.

  “You seem remarkably well-armed for a pleasant stroll by the river,” Deliverance remarked.

  Luke rested his hand lightly on the hilt of his sword. “It would be pleasant not to take such precautions, but with Farrington practically on our doorstep, I would prefer not to take unnecessary risks.”

  He allowed her to lead the way and they took the gentle path that meandered down the side of the hill towards the river.

  Luke looked up at the east wall of the castle towering above them, searching out the one weakness in the wall, the sally port, the secret entrance to the castle. Deliverance followed his gaze.

  “What are you looking at?”

  “I was trying to see where the sally port is. It’s completely concealed from this angle.”

  “Well it wouldn't be a very good sally port if it was quite so obvious,” Deliverance smiled. “You see that large outcrop of rock,” she pointed. “It is behind there.”

  “So how do you get down that cliff? It's almost sheer.”

  Her generous mouth curved in a conspiratorial smile. “Oh there's quite a safe path if you know where to look but I don't think you need to worry about it, I can't see a force attacking up it.”

  “Maybe not, but I should set a guard on it. It is still a vulnerable place in the wall of the castle.”

  They reached the river, where a weir had been constructed to turn the castle mill, and struck out to the north along a narrow wooded path.

  “Where are you from, Captain Collyer?” Deliverance asked.

  “Warwickshire,” Luke replied in the clipped tone he reserved for occasions where he didn't wish to encourage any further conversation.

  He should have known better. Undeterred Deliverance continued, “And what of your family?”

  “What about them?”

  “Do they fight with you for parliament's cause?”

  Luke hesitated before replying, his silence giving the answer.

  Deliverance stopped and looked at him, her eyes wide. “They don’t! Your family is divided?”

  He swallowed. “My family was divided long before the war, Mistress Felton. My father and my brother fight for the King.”

  She narrowed her eyes and studied him. “So, is Collyer even your real name?”

  Luke looked up at the trees above him. “You ask a lot of questions. My family is not your concern.”

  Her cheeks coloured and she looked down at the ground. “Sorry. My mother always used to say my curiosity would get the better of me.”

  Luke quickened his stride. No one, except Ned, knew his antecedents and, in his opinion, that was already one person too many but he owed her his trust and he knew whatever confidence he shared with her would go no further.

  “I was christened Lucius,” he said.

  That was half the truth. He had been christened Lucius William Absalom Harcourt. His father, Viscount Harcourt, had been a close confidante of the King and when the irretrievable rift between himself and his family had occurred, he had deemed it prudent to adopt a new identity. He didn't need or want his father's name to play a part in this war.

  She stopped and stared at him, a smile curving her lips. When she smiled her eyes seemed to light up. He wished she smiled more often.

  “Lucius?”

  “Lucius.”

  She shook her head. “Oh, no. That doesn't suit you at all. Lucius demands a much grander surname than Collyer. You are not a Lucius.”

  How right, he thought. Lucius Harcourt was another person all together.

  They had reached a curve in the river where willows and elms reached down to a still, deep pool. The fisherman in Luke told him that some magnificent specimens would lurk in its dark recesses. In a more peaceful time there would be nothing he would like better than to drowse away an afternoon at such a spot with a rod and a good companion.

  Beside him Deliverance stopped, wrapping her arms around herself. Glancing down, he saw something glisten on her eyelash. A tear?

  “Drat these cursed midges!” Deliverance unsuccessfully tried to dash the tears from her eyes while pretending to swat midges. She probably hoped he didn't notice.

  His mother’s propensity to tears at the slightest provocation had inured him to a woman’s tears but in Deliverance, tears seemed so out of character.

  “Deliverance?” He laid a hand on her shoulder.

  She swallowed. “My brother died here. He came swimming on a warm, summer day like today and...and...he drowned.”

  Luke stared at her. He had not expected such a confidence. He looked across the still, deep pool, seeing the beautiful place through her eyes as a dark and foreboding place of grief and tragedy.

  “I'm sorry,” he said. “How old was he?”

  “Thirteen. He...he was my twin. My mother was grief-stricken. She never recovered and died the next winter. Father was away so much with parliament and county duties. It all fell to me...” She trailed off, fresh tears catching at the corners of her eyes.

  He slid his hand from her shoulder around the back of her neck, drawing her in to him. She rested her head against his chest and they stood together looking out over the still water, as a brightly coloured kingfisher dived into the water coming up with a wriggling fish in its bill.

  Deliverance stiffened, extricating herself from his arm. Once again, the woman she wanted the world to know. She turned to stride along the path ahead of him, her head bowed.

  Luke stood for a moment watching her. At fourteen, Deliverance Felton had found herself mother to her younger sister and mistress of this rambling castle. No, he thought, life had not dealt fairly with her.

  He caught up with her and they walked side by side in silence to a place where the tree line broke and a green expanse of grass and wild flowers ran down to the river bank. Deli
verance sat down and drew her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. Luke sprawled beside her, plucking at the long grass stems and chewing their ends, a childhood habit.

  Deliverance leaned her head on her knees and looked at him.

  “I suppose you must think that I cannot bear to go anywhere near the pool,” she said.

  He looked up at her; a frown puckered her forehead. “I love going there. I go when I need to think.” She stopped and looked away. “You'll laugh...”

  “I won't,” Luke promised.

  “If I have a problem I go there to talk to James.”

  “He was your brother and your twin. It’s natural that you still feel the connection with him.”

  She tore at the grass around her shoe, a slight colour staining her pale cheeks. “It calms me. I can always see the solution to my problems when I’ve sat with James.” She looked up, scanning his face. “I've never told anyone about that before, not even Pen.”

  “I am honoured,” he said. “Accept my assurance that your confidence will go no further.”

  “Thank you for understanding.”

  The heat rose to Luke’s face and he coughed to cover his embarrassment. Any other woman and he probably would have laughed and ribbed her about her fancies but not Deliverance. She had told him something about herself that she had not even told her closest confidante. He appreciated the value of the trust she had placed in him. It was to be treasured.

  Deliverance stretched and lay down in the grass beside him. “It all seems so peaceful. This was a good idea, thank you, Luke...Captain Collyer.”

  He smiled. “Luke is fine. May I claim a similar familiarity?”

  She nodded. “That seems fair.”

  “Deliverance Felton. Deliverance...” He tried her name on his tongue and looked down at her, smiling. “What were your parents thinking when they named you and your sister?”

  Deliverance smiled. “My mother's choice, I think. She came from a very strict puritan family. My brother ended up with the perfectly acceptable name of James. My family calls me Liv. I…I wouldn’t mind if you did as well.”

  “Liv?” Luke tried the shortened name out. He twirled the feathery grass stem in his fingers and reached out and batted her on the nose with it. “No, I like Deliverance. The right to contract a person's name has to be earned, I think.”

  Deliverance swatted the grass away. “Stop that!”

  He rolled on to his back beside her with his ankles crossed. Above them, small, fluffy white clouds scudded across a sky the colour of Deliverance’s eyes, like lambs playing in a field.

  “So, what will become of the castle and estate when your father dies?” Luke asked

  “It's not entailed. I believe it will come to me...I hope it will come to me. I've tried to show father that I'm worthy.” She paused. “Sorry---that sounded grasping.”

  “And your sister?”

  “She has a respectable dowry.”

  “I'm surprised she's not had every eligible man in the county after her,” Luke observed.

  “She has, but only one she cared for,” Deliverance said. “Jack Farrington.”

  Luke sighed, contemplating that particular doomed relationship.

  “What about you, Deliverance?”

  “Me? What man would have me?”

  Luke looked up at the outline of the castle rising above the tree line, the soft grey stone of its walls, picturesque against the green. Any man who wanted a castle and substantial estates would have her, he thought cynically.

  “I think,” Deliverance continued, oblivious to his train of thought. “I think I may have been too preoccupied to notice if any man seriously paid me court.”

  “How old are you?” Luke asked.

  She stiffened. “Twenty-five.” She looked down at him. “I consider that an extremely personal question. How old are you, Captain Collyer?”

  He smiled. “Twenty-nine and I've been a soldier since I was eighteen.”

  “If I'd been a man I would have been a soldier...” Deliverance began but didn't continue.

  “If you'd been a man you would have set yourself to be the best rider, the best swordsman, the best at everything wouldn't you?”

  She flushed scarlet to the roots of her hair. “I'm good at all those things.” She pulled a face. “What I'm not good at is domestic duties.”

  “You are good at swords?” Luke asked.

  “Not good...but passable,” Deliverance said.

  Luke rose to his feet. “Show me.”

  Deliverance looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Show me how you wield a sword?”

  Deliverance spread her hands. “I've no sword with me.”

  “Wait here.”

  Luke walked into the glade, returning with two long stout sticks of even length and weight that he had cut.

  “This is foolish,” Deliverance said as he threw one to her.

  She caught it deftly in the hand of her uninjured arm.

  “On your guard, madam,” he said with a laugh.

  “You're serious?”

  He assumed the en garde position. “Very. I've never fenced with a woman before.”

  “You have something of an advantage over me,” Deliverance observed as she brought her stick up to rest against his. “To start with you are considerably taller than me, you have a longer reach and, sir, you are not wearing petticoats.”

  Luke moved to flick the hideous cap off her head and found himself parried. They circled gaining each other's measure and then with a lightning fast move, Deliverance lunged, the stick skimming his right sleeve.

  “Very good,” Luke said in genuine admiration, parrying her next lunge.

  He could have used his height and reach advantage but chose not to. Deliverance's own size and weight made her fast but the skirts were obviously a serious impediment, so they indulged in a bit of back and forth until the ghastly cap she wore fell from Deliverance's head and the shining dark hair tumbled around her face. She put up her weapon and pushed the hair back from her face. The exercise had brought colour to her cheeks and her eyes danced with laughter. Luke wondered how much opportunity she had in her life to laugh.

  She rubbed her sore arm. “Enough, Captain Collyer. I am just out of my sick bed, remember.”

  Her breast rose and fell from the exertion and, with her collar askew, for the first time he noticed that the plain gown hid a shapely figure. His eyes held hers, and he saw an answering longing in their blue depths.

  He let the stick fall and took a step towards her as she did likewise. She stood within arm’s reach of him, her gaze locked on his eyes. Her lips parted and her eyelids fluttered and as one they leaned in towards each other.

  A low growl of thunder rolled across the peaceful landscape, causing the birds to take flight. They flew upwards carolling alarm as Luke and Deliverance jumped apart.

  “Cannon?” Deliverance whispered, her eyes still locked on Luke’s wide and fearful.

  Luke nodded. “Byton. It has begun. We must get back to the castle, Deliverance.”

  Deliverance paused only to scoop up the linen cap and they both strode swiftly back towards the castle and their responsibilities.

  Chapter 7

  With Byton now under siege, Luke redoubled his efforts on Kinton Lacey's defences. Every able bodied person, man, woman or child bent their back to the ditches and fortifications. Even the weather turned against them with cold, sleeting rain turning the clay to mud and the task to one of Herculean proportions.

  As the men laboured in the ditches, up to their knees in cold, muddy water, everyone's spirits began to sag. Patrols of Farrington's men harried the troops Luke sent out to gather provisions and he had lost three good men in the ensuing skirmishes. He could ill afford to lose any more.

  Luke hunched down under his sodden cloak while the rain dripped off the brim of his hat. He looked down from the curtain wall at the toiling labourers below him. It had been Deliverance's idea to line the ditch with the an
tiquated weapons from the great hall. The old halberds and pikes were of little use in siege warfare but still quite serviceable and would make a nasty deterrent to anyone foolish enough to try to storm the weakest wall. The gate caused him no concern. Despite the stone bridge, replacing an earlier drawbridge, the double fortified gatehouse had two solid, working portcullis and it would take an enormous force to take the gatehouse.

  “Is there anything more we can do?” Ned asked.

  Luke shook his head. “Of course there is more we can do, but with the time we have left, we have done as much as we can. If Farrington wants this castle, he will have to work for it,”

  Without the siege gun Farrington would have to starve them out. Deliverance's careful provisioning of the garrison ensured they could hold out for months. The only thing that could, and probably would, break them would be the Thunderer and at the thought of that enormous weapon, he shuddered.

  He turned and looked down into the courtyard where Deliverance's slight, bedraggled figure stood in the centre of the mired yard, directing barrels of salted meat towards the cellars. He stood watching her for a few minutes, smiling when he saw her hair hanging unregarded in sodden rats’ tails down the back of her cloak. A lesser woman would have disappeared indoors at the first drop of rain, but not Deliverance. Until the job had been completed, she would be out there all day.

  He sighed and gathered himself together. Ever since that moment on the water meadow when he had nearly kissed her, being in her presence caused him acute embarrassment and he found himself going out of his way to avoid her. However, this time it couldn't be avoided and, dearly as he might have liked to escape through the Gatehouse, he had a matter he needed to discuss with her.

  As if aware she was being watched, she turned and looked up at him. He gestured for her to join him and she left her post, taking the slippery, unguarded steps to the walk at the top of the curtain wall with an ease born of familiarity.

  As she reached him, she pushed the matted hair back from her face.