Her Rebel Heart: A romance of the English Civil War

by Alison Stuart

  A wave of nausea enveloped Deliverance. There were worse things than death for a woman caught in the middle of a war. Although she hoped that even Charles Farrington would not resort to public rape and humiliation, she would not put it past him.

  Charles flung her back at Lovedie. “Shut her up again. We'll give Collyer time to realise his precious Deliverance is missing and then surprise him.”

  Luke woke at first light with a thudding headache. He lay still for a long time trying to recall the events of the previous day. Deliverance. That damned woman. There'd been some argument and then...nothing. He frowned and put a hand to his head, feeling his way around the bandage until he reached a recognisable lump of padding. He gingerly pressed it producing lightning bolts of pain.

  Penitence appeared in the doorway with a tray of breakfast.

  “Oh, good. You're awake,” she said, setting the tray down on the table.

  Luke grunted a response and was about to swing his bare feet on to the floor when he realised he was naked. He pulled the sheet up to his chest.

  “Pass me my breeches.” He pointed to the chair where his clothes had been hung.

  Penitence put her hands on her hips and regarded him. “You shouldn't be out of bed. You need to rest...”

  “Bloody nonsense,” Luke swore. “Breeches, woman.”

  With a snort, Penitence threw the garments at him, and he managed to pull them on beneath the bedclothes.

  He rose gingerly, and the room tilted and swum alarmingly for a moment or two before righting itself. Penitence helped him with the rest of his clothes and he swallowed down most of the meagre breakfast, hoping he would manage to keep it down. He needed his strength to deal with Deliverance.

  Penitence sat across from him as he ate, her hands folded in her lap. He looked at her, frowning as shreds of memory started to come back into his fuzzy mind.

  “What are you doing here? Didn't I have you locked up?”

  Penitence flushed and lowered her eyes. “I gave Deliverance my parole,” she said.

  Deliverance. Trust her to countermand his orders. No doubt that man, Truscott, had been reprieved as well. The list of matters he needed to discuss with her was growing by the minute.

  “Where is Deliverance?” he demanded. “I have to talk to her.”

  Penitence's lips tightened and she swallowed. “I don't know. She disappeared in the night without leaving a note or any sign as to where she has gone. Ned is searching the castle.”

  Penitence’s hands twisted in her lap. “There’s more... Lovedie's gone as well, and Jack Farrington.”

  Luke's hand flew to his neck. The key to Farrington's cell was missing. He rose to his feet as Ned flung the door open and stood in the doorway, flushed with the exertion of running.

  “Collyer, thank God you're up. The man we put on the sally port last night—he's dead.”

  That news came as no surprise. The sally port may as well have been High Holborn with all the people coming and going through it. Luke went to run his hand through his hair and then remembered his injury.

  “How?”

  “Knife through the ribs. Neat job.”

  And easy for an attractive woman, Luke thought, seeing the plot unfold. Lovedie had taken the key, released Jack and made their escape. A cold tremor of fear ran through him.

  What about Deliverance?

  He leaned on the table to gather his thoughts. “I think we can assume that our enemy agent was Lovedie Brown. She’s made good her escape with Farrington and,” he paused, hardly daring to voice the thought, “and possibly Deliverance.”

  Penitence gave a sharp intake of breath, her hand rising to her throat. “If Farrington has her…”

  Luke turned his gaze on her. “One thing at a time, Penitence. We don’t know that. Ned, bring me the Brown boy. I'll be in the Great Hall.”

  Two burly soldiers, accompanied by Sergeant Hale and Melchior Blakelocke, escorted the boy into the hall, depositing Toby at Luke’s feet where the boy huddled, close to tears.

  Luke looked down at the boy with little sympathy. “Your sister's gone taking Jack Farrington with her. What do you know about your traitorous sister’s activities, Toby?”

  Toby looked back at him with large, frightened eyes. “Lovedie? What’s she done?”

  Luke crossed to him and grasped him by the front of his shirt, pulling him to his feet. “Where's your sister?”

  “She'll have gone back to Farrington,” the boy blurted out. “I told her he was no good.”

  Luke stared at him. “Gone back to Farrington? What do you mean?”

  “She was with him at Byton but I thought when I saw her here that she had...” the boy's brow creased and tears filled his eyes.”Oh sir, I don't know what I thought.”

  “Did you know your sister was the traitor in these walls?” Luke demanded.

  The boy shook his head, his eyes large with fear and disbelief, and this time Luke believed him. Toby crumpled to the ground at his feet.

  “I'm your man, Cap’n Collyer. I’d no part in her wicked ways.” Toby snivelled.

  Luke looked at the faces of his officers. No further explanation was necessary.

  “Do you think she’s taken Deliverance?” Penitence ventured.

  “I'm sure of it,” Luke replied. “But just to be sure, I want another search of the castle...”

  He got no further as one of the men came charging into the hall. “Captain Collyer. Come quickly, you're wanted on the wall.”

  “It can wait.” Luke rounded on the man.

  “It's Colonel Farrington and he's got Mistress Felton with him,” the man said, his breath coming in short gasps from his haste.

  Deliverance…in the hands of a man who had murdered a garrison in cold blood.

  Ignoring the pain that rapid movement caused to his throbbing head, he ran out into the courtyard and up the steps to the curtain wall beside the gatehouse.

  Farrington stood just out of range of the muskets, surrounded by his own men. His left hand held Deliverance’s upper arm and his right hand a pistol, its muzzle resting just above her right ear.

  He scanned Deliverance’s face looking for signs of violence. Even at the distance, she looked dishevelled but otherwise unhurt.

  “Collyer,” Farrington shouted, his voice carrying well in the still air. “I think the time has come to discuss surrender.”

  “What are your terms?” Luke responded.

  Farrington laughed. “I don't think we need to discuss terms do we? The terms are simple, your unconditional surrender for the life of this girl.”

  Surrender or Deliverance dies? What choice did he have?

  “What are you going to do?” Ned asked, tight-lipped. “He wouldn't really kill her would he?”

  “You saw what he did at Byton? He's capable of anything, Ned. He may not kill her but by all that is infernal, there are other things he can do.”

  Ned paled beneath his freckles. “God help us all.”

  Luke turned back and looked down at Farrington.

  “I will give you an answer in an hour, Colonel,” he said.

  “An hour? It would seem to me that your answer is fairly clear, Collyer.”

  “I must consult with the lady's family,” Luke said.

  “Very well. An hour, Collyer.”

  “Who is there to consult?” Ned said in a low voice.

  Luke looked at Penitence. “Well?”

  Penitence turned despairing eyes on him. “Save her!”

  Luke turned his eyes heavenwards. “We need a distraction.”

  Chapter 20

  Deliverance sat on a stool in the corner of the clergyman's parlour, sunk in despondency. An hour glass stood on the table in front of Charles Farrington and he leaned back in his chair watching the sand trickle through it. Lovedie had draped herself across the back of his chair and was occupied in curling his hair in her fingers.

  “What will you do to the garrison?” Deliverance ventured.

  Charles tor
e his gaze away from the glass and looked at her. “What do you think I will do?”

  “Byton?” She spat the name out.

  He stared at the ceiling. “Probably not all the garrison. Father would not like that and it wouldn't be necessary. Collyer and the other officers will suffice. I think I will hang them from the gatehouse. That will serve as a pleasant warning.”

  Deliverance suppressed the sob that rose to her throat.

  “Oh, look at her,” Lovedie said. “She's sweet on Collyer, you know?”

  Charles caught Lovedie’s hand and kissed it. “Is she indeed? So, Deliverance Felton, it will pain you to watch Collyer die?”

  Deliverance did not respond.

  “I will think of something drawn out and gruesome for your lover,” Charles said with a smirk. “And I will make you and the whole of the Kinton Lacey garrison watch him die in agony.”

  “Charles,” Jack protested.

  “Oh, don't be so soft, brother. These rebels need to be taught a lesson.”

  The last grains of sand trickled through the glass and Charles jerked to his feet, dislodging Lovedie. He handed one of his pistols to Jack.

  “You bring Mistress Felton and if she makes one wrong move, kill her.”

  He laughed as he saw the look of horror on Jack's face. He picked up the second pistol, pointing it directly at Deliverance. “If you don't, I will.”

  Jack's fingers closed on Deliverance's arm as he pulled her to her feet. She searched his face for a spark of sympathy but saw only the cold gleam of utter commitment. Whatever Jack’s feelings for Penitence, his loyalty to his father and brother appeared to be absolute.

  She blinked in the bright daylight of a beautiful day. Jack pushed her before him and she saw the faces of Farrington's garrison, watching them with interest as they passed. A few made lewd gestures, indicating that rumours of Charles’ intended punishment had gone around the camp. Regardless of the castle’s surrender, she would not escape that fate, of that she was certain. Nausea rose in her throat and for a moment she thought she would cry.

  Gathering her courage she tilted her chin and straightened her shoulders. She was Deliverance Felton and she was damned if she would let these men see her snivelling like a feeble-minded child.

  They stopped just out of musket range of the castle defenders. Deliverance looked up at the castle walls and saw the faces of her garrison ranged across the curtain wall. She ran her eye along the wall, doing a mental count of heads until she reached Melchior Blakelocke's unmistakable figure and beside him, no doubt standing on the box that she had stood on, her fair hair blowing in the wind and wearing the same red dress Deliverance had worn to issue her defiance, Penitence.

  Jack's fingers tightened on Deliverance's arm. He had seen Penitence. She glanced around at him seeing for a brief moment the utter misery on his face.

  “Jack, it doesn't have to be—” she began but he pressed the pistol to her neck.

  “Not a word, Deliverance,” he said in a voice that sounded so unlike Jack that all she could do was nod.

  “Well, well, that milksop of a girl you were so keen on, Jack. Mistress Penitence Felton. I wouldn't have thought she had it in her,” Charles remarked. He raised his voice. “Mistress Felton? Do you have an answer for me?”

  Penitence's voice, clear in the still, soft air drifted across towards them.

  “You have my surrender,” she said.

  Deliverance's heart sank.

  No, Penitence, you don't know what you've done. It will be for nothing. You have condemned Luke to death and me. She glanced at Charles and shuddered.

  “Excellent,” Farrington responded, “Now send out Collyer, unarmed and I want to see the hands of every man on the wall.”

  It seemed a long moment before Penitence replied. “Very well.”

  As she spoke the gates opened wide and Luke walked through them, alone. Above him the men on the walls raised their hands above their heads.

  Luke wore his mulberry-coloured jacket and his hat with a curling feather that swept around the crown. He wore no baldric or sword and carried no weapon but he walked with a quiet confidence as if this were nothing more than a pleasant stroll.

  Deliverance's heart beat faster. She wanted to scream at him to go back but the words stuck in her throat.

  Farrington gave a snort of satisfaction as Luke stopped within twenty feet of Farrington. Farrington gestured to two of his men. “Secure him.”

  Luke didn't move as the two men stepped forward, one on each side, holding his arms in a secure vice. They brought him forward until Luke stood within a few feet of Farrington. He kept his eyes fixed on Farrington's face, not even glancing at Deliverance.

  A choked sob escaped her and for the first time, his gaze slid towards her.

  Charles Farrington seized Deliverance's arm, jerking her away from Jack and thrust her at Luke.

  “Say your goodbyes, Deliverance. By sundown your precious Captain will be dead.”

  Deliverance fell against Luke's chest. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest, not caring who saw or what they thought. His body felt hard and reassuring, the beat of his heart steady. If Charles Farrington were to have his way, by nightfall that good heart would be still.

  “I'm sorry,” she mumbled. “This is all my fault.”

  Luke, too securely held to touch her, bent his head and lips brushed her hair.

  “No it’s not. Just trust me, Deliverance,” he whispered too softly for the two thugs who held him to hear properly.

  She looked up at him and he smiled.

  “Jack, secure the Felton woman.”

  Jack pulled her away from Luke as Charles turned once again to address the woman on the wall.

  “Now the garrison, Mistress Felton.”

  Deliverance looked up. All the men had gone from the castle walls. Only Penitence, resplendent in her red dress, her fair curls tossed lightly in the breeze remained a sole sentinel by the Gatehouse tower. She looked magnificent.

  From within the castle came the slow beat of a drum. Behind Farrington, the besiegers gathered to watch the humiliation of this stubborn little castle and Deliverance heard the murmuring, as if they held their collective breath.

  Thrmm...thrmm...

  A solitary figure appeared at the castle gate, holding the Felton standard and behind him the drummer. They walked forward slowly until they reached the end of the bridge.

  “Toby,” Deliverance said in a quiet voice.

  As if on cue, the beat of the drum suddenly changed. Deliverance had lived with soldiers long enough now to recognise the call to arms. Above the standard and the drummer, the wall bristled with the gleam of weapons and from the ditch came a bloodcurdling battle cry.

  “For Felton!”

  At that command, a line of men sprang from the ditch in front of the castle and charged toward the onlookers. Ned Barrett led the charge, bareheaded, looking like a wild warrior from stories of the Celts.

  Farrington's men had left their posts and their weapons to watch the tableau of the surrender and were not prepared for any attack, by however pathetic a force. Now shouted orders and the sound of general confusion enveloped her as the royalists scattered to their positions.

  A smattering of musket fire came from the royalist lines but the Kinton Lacey men came onwards unhindered. As they approached a nauseating stench of human and animal excrement wafted towards the royalist lines and Deliverance saw that the men were mired to the waist. She gagged.

  Farrington's eyes widened and he gestured to Deliverance. “Jack, kill her, kill her now...”

  Deliverance closed her eyes, steeling herself for the pistol ball. Instead the grip on her arm relaxed.

  “I don't think so, Charles,” Jack Farrington said in a quiet voice.

  Deliverance caught her breath and opened her eyes as Jack Farrington caught his brother’s neck in his arm and pressed the pistol that had been pressed to Deliverance's neck against his brother's
temple.

  “What are you doing?” Farrington's eyes bulged with surprise and rage.

  “I think I'm turning my cloak,” Jack replied calmly. “Get your men to lay down their weapons. Make no mistake, Charles, I will kill you for what you did at Byton.”

  The Kinton Lacey assault came to a halt and a line of muskets faced the royalist troops. A pathetically small number against the hundreds of men they faced.

  “Do what he says!” Farrington screamed. “Lay down your weapons.”

  A mutter ran through the lines of his men and one by one they complied.

  “Good. Now release Collyer,” Jack gestured to the two men holding Luke.

  They let him go, and Luke brushed his sleeve as if removing an annoying piece of lint.

  “Thank you, Jack,” he said and swept Deliverance a bow.

  “Mistress Felton, shall we return to Kinton Lacey? Captain Farrington, your prisoner will accompany us.”

  Holding Charles securely by one arm with his pistol still pressed to his brother's neck, Jack moved forward, Luke and Deliverance fell into line beside him and they walked abreast back towards the line of Kinton Lacey men who parted to allow them through and then turned and followed, making a dignified, if smelly, procession back inside the castle.

  Toby and the drummer, once again beating a slow march, followed and the gate shut on Kinton Lacey with all the defenders and their hostage safely within its walls.

  A cheer went up as the gate swung shut with a resounding thud. Relief flooded through Luke as the portcullis chain rattled. For a brief moment he thought his legs would give way, had it not been for Deliverance.

  She nestled beneath the curve of his arm, her own arm around his waist. She looked up at him. Dark rings of exhaustion circled her eyes. He bent his head and kissed her forehead as a whooping crowd of the delighted, and unharmed, garrison celebrated around them.

  Charles Farrington, his face purple with rage pushed himself free of his brother and turned to face him.

  “You bloody traitor. You'll hang for this,” he screamed at Jack, his eyes bulging with rage.

  Jack looked down at the pistol in his hand.