by Stella Riley
‘We are talking, I take it, about the situation created by Sir Robert’s will?’
‘What else?’ She was silent for a moment and then, with an effort that could be seen, said clinically, ‘I have received word from my brother that, for reasons we need not go into, he will not be returning to England at this time. Or quite possibly ever.’
‘I see.’ The dry lips pursed thoughtfully. ‘That is unfortunate.’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘Have you thought what you will do?’
‘I’ve thought of little else. But unless Colonel Brandon is obliging enough to drop dead between now and Christmas, I don’t seem to have too many options. And that, of course, brings me to what I wanted to ask you. Has he been in touch with you at all?’
Mr Crisp strove to disregard what he personally considered to be Mistress Clifford’s unladylike turn of phrase and said merely, ‘No. He has not.’
‘Oh.’ She swallowed and kept her hands clasped tightly together. ‘So you’ve no idea what his intentions may be with regard to – to myself?’
‘None.’ The girl’s imperfectly veiled discomfiture repaid Isaiah in some small part for the way she had spoken to him at the will-reading. ‘But I should have thought that – on such a delicate matter – the Colonel would naturally be courteous enough to inform you of his decision first-hand.’
‘If the Colonel was a gentleman, I’d agree with you. Since he undoubtedly isn’t, I suspect it will not cross his mind,’ remarked Venetia. And then, ‘He doesn’t seem very eager to claim his windfall, does he? But perhaps that’s because I’m tied up with it.’
Mr Crisp thought that this was all too likely. Venetia Clifford was an undeniably beautiful woman but no one’s idea of a comfortable wife; and, after the way she’d behaved at the will-reading, one couldn’t blame the Colonel if he’d taken a dislike to her.
He said tactfully, ‘Doubtless he has affairs of his own to take care of.’
‘Yes. I can imagine what sort, too. But since we’re all aware that resigning from the Army is unlikely to be his problem – and men of his sort don’t commonly let their trollops stand in their way – I can’t quite see why he’s so slow to take possession of his fortune.’
‘Fortune?’ echoed the lawyer. And then, ‘Ah.’
‘What’s wrong? Have I offended your sense of decorum again? Or no.’ The amethyst gaze sharpened. ‘It’s something else, isn’t it? Something you’re not telling me.’
Looking faintly stricken, Mr Crisp tried to retrieve his error.
‘You are mistaken.’
‘I think not.’ For a long, unpleasant moment she continued to stare at him without speaking. Then, leaning back in her chair, she said gently, ‘Well? You can hardly tell me it’s none of my affair, can you? The rest of my life is at stake here – not to mention that of my family. And, in case you’ve forgotten, you were as much my father’s man-of-law as you were Sir Robert’s.’
Mr Crisp thought about it and came to the reluctant conclusion that, since what he knew might well influence the situation, she probably had a point.
‘Very well. I will tell you what I have already told Mistress Brandon. There is, in fact, very little money.’
‘What?’ Venetia sat up again rather sharply. ‘But that can’t be right. Sir Robert was a rich man.’
‘Yes, Mistress Clifford. He was a rich man. Unfortunately, however, over the last two years very few of his investments have prospered. And the cost of fortifying and garrisoning Brandon Lacey throughout the war was by no means inconsiderable. Then there were the sums he occasionally paid to Lord Fairfax for the maintenance of the northern army – and, of course, the substantial debts incurred by Mr Ellis before he left England. The result is that, by the time his affairs were settled, Sir Robert’s capital amounted to little more than five hundred pounds.’
Venetia stopped wasting time trying to believe it. It sounded all too likely. Instead, she set her mind to grasping the implications and, at last, said abruptly, ‘Does Colonel Brandon know?’
‘Not yet. Having had no communication from him, I am unsure of precisely where he is to be found.’
Putney, she thought instantly; but had the sense not to say it.
‘You realise what this means, don’t you?’
‘I believe so. It is possible that, when the Colonel discovers the precise nature of his inheritance, he may feel it wise to keep hold of Ford Edge. In short, he may decide that marriage with you is not in his best interests.’
Venetia stood up and found that she felt rather sick.
‘It’s worse than that, isn’t it? The quickest way of improving his finances is by selling land. And, unless I’m married to him, he’ll be fully entitled to sell ours.’ She drew a long, painful breath and stared down at Mr Crisp out of eyes that were no longer discreetly blank. ‘I can’t let him do that.’
The lawyer looked back and made three interesting discoveries. A long-delayed inkling of what all this really meant to her; a subterranean feeling of pity; and the knowledge that here, in his dingy little office, he was witnessing Mistress Clifford’s decision.
He said, ‘You are saying that you’ll marry him?’
‘If he asks me, I’ll have to,’ came the bleak reply. ‘What else can I do?’ And all the time her mind was saying, I am in a cage. And I’m afraid. Then, breaking free of the treadmill, she said stiffly, ‘I don’t like to ask … but I will need your help. If the Colonel knows there is no money, he almost certainly won’t contemplate marriage. And so I – I’d be grateful if you’d delay telling him.’
Mr Crisp considered this. Then he said primly, ‘I have my duty to perform. If Colonel Brandon asks how matters stand, I must, of course, tell him.’ A small, dry smile touched his mouth. ‘But then again, he may not ask.’
It was cold comfort. It was also all she was likely to get.
Venetia thanked him and left.
~ ~ ~
SEVEN
Unaware of Venetia’s discoveries, Gabriel Brandon was indeed at Putney and grappling with several problems at once. The arrival of two more Scottish gentlemen to talk with the King at Hampton Court had provoked a clutch of rumours that a Scots invasion was imminent and a corresponding surge of activity amongst the followers of John Lilburne – who now, thanks to a remark of Cromwell’s, were known to all and sundry as Levellers. But more immediately worrying than either of these incidents was the darkening cloud hanging over the Lieutenant-General.
The truth was that, after bending backwards to please the King, both Cromwell and Ireton had been left high and dry by the Parliament’s refusal to accept the Heads of the Proposals. They couldn’t reinstate themselves in the jaundiced eye of the Army by making good their promises of a speedy settlement … and nor could they suddenly abandon their much-publicised support for the King without appearing totally unstable. And therein lay the cause of all their present troubles.
To Gabriel’s certain knowledge, Cromwell had suspended his own visits to Hampton Court – along with those of his wife and daughter. He was also reputedly shifting his quarters every third or fourth day because he feared assassination. But with Harry Marten and the Republicans telling the Commons that Honest Noll had the King’s promise to make him an Earl and also demanding his impeachment for continuing to speak against the abolition of the monarchy, things were showing scant sign of settling down. And the resulting uncertainty, as Gabriel observed acidly to his Major, was lying throughout the Army like an unlit fuse.
Eden Maxwell looked up from the pistol he was servicing.
‘They won’t touch Cromwell. Our boys may call him a Grandee and misdoubt his motives once in a while – but, if the Scots invade, who else do you think they’ll want leading them? Then again, with the radicals screaming that no one should have more than two thousand pounds a year, every landowner in the country is going to be scared witless about what will happen if they allow the King to be disposed of. And what price Republicanism then?’
&nbs
p; Gabriel prowled to the window and stared through it. He was in an uncharacteristically edgy mood and had been for the last week – the reason being that it was now nearly the end of October and there was still no sign of Wat.
‘I know – I know. But it’s what’s happening now that concerns me. Tomorrow morning, the Army Council is going to sit down and spend countless hours discussing the latest Leveller document when what we really ought to be doing is putting our heads together with Parliament and the King to find some kind of mutually acceptable compromise. And universally desirable though a good many of Lilburne’s notions may be, they’re too far-reaching to be even remotely practical at this stage. So I really don’t see The Agreement of the People providing a solution.’
‘My God.’ Eden grinned. ‘If the rest of the Council feels as you do, it’s going to be a merry meeting.’
‘I don’t know how they feel. Since I’m likely to find out in excruciating detail over the next few days, I haven’t troubled to —’ He broke off on a sharp breath. ‘Hell’s teeth! If that’s who I think it is, I’ll drop him down the nearest well.’ And was off through the door without stopping to explain himself.
Eden watched him go, faintly startled amusement marking his brows. Then, laying his pistol down on the table, he rose unhurriedly and followed him outside.
A group of some dozen or so troopers stood huddled at the end of the street in the biting wind that blew round the corner. And in the midst of them, his face vivid as ever and his arms full of pamphlets, Samuel Radford was holding forth with apparently eloquent conviction.
Colonel Brandon bore down like a tidal wave causing the men on the fringes of the group to melt discreetly away. The rest remained glued nervously to the spot while a pair of intensely irritable eyes swept comprehensively over them.
‘I regret that we’ve neglected to provide you with suitable employment, gentlemen,’ said Gabriel at length. ‘I’d be sorry to see you fall victim to any kind of infectious malady through standing idle on such a cold day.’
The troopers shifted uneasily and stared down at their feet. They knew exactly what he meant, of course. A man was entitled to his opinions so long as he never permitted them to interfere with his duty. Listening to impassioned speeches about how Cromwell was about to betray the common soldier in the same way he’d already betrayed John Lilburne, was another matter entirely.
Samuel Radford surveyed the Colonel with unimpaired composure.
‘You can’t keep the truth from them indefinitely, you know. They’re bound to hear it sooner or later.’
‘I’ll deal with you presently,’ came the curt reply. ‘Major Maxwell … you can find a use for these men?’
‘I could find several.’ Eden paused and then, looking at Mr Radford, ‘Don’t I know you?’
‘You’ve certainly seen me,’ agreed Sam. ‘At the sign of the Ragged Staff in Banbury some years ago. That whey-faced tutor of yours used to be a regular visitor.’
The hazel eyes widened.
‘You’re Jonas Radford’s brother.’
‘Guilty.’
Eden’s grin held a hint of malice.
‘Your views on liberty of conscience must be like a hair-shirt to him. Unless he’s no longer the fire-and-brimstone spitting Puritan he once was?’
‘I neither know nor care,’ shrugged Sam. ‘But I doubt if he’s changed. Granite doesn’t.’
Gabriel marked this exchange and made a mental note to find out what else the Major knew. But, when he was finally alone with Samuel, he merely said crisply, ‘I thought I’d made it plain that – though I’m not, in principle, utterly opposed to your views – I don’t welcome attempts to inflame my men to mutiny.’
Sam sighed. They had met three times now at the Morrells’ house in Shoreditch; but while Jack remained happily unaware that he was harbouring a Leveller, the Colonel had somehow found the opportunity to lecture Sam on staying away from the Army and being careful what ideas he planted in Mistress Bryony’s hitherto empty little head.
‘You did,’ he said. ‘But the present situation —’
‘I know precisely what the present situation is. Lilburne hoped Cromwell would get him out of the Tower by persuading the Commons to question the Lords’ right to put him there in the first place – but Cromwell has declined to set both Houses at each other’s throats in order to oblige him. So now Lilburne has decided to force his hand with an appeal to what I believe he has called ‘the hob-nailed and clouted shoes’ of the Army.’ Gabriel smiled grimly. ‘I, however, am here to inform you that now is not a good time for you to be assisting him in it.’
Considering black eyes met implacable grey ones.
‘Are you sure,’ asked Sam, ‘that you have the right to make me leave?’
‘No. But I’m absolutely sure I have the means.’
‘There is now no power executed in England but a power of force?’ Knowing perfectly well that Cromwell had recently disciplined an officer for saying something very similar, Sam quoted provocatively from Free-born John. ‘Ah well. Since you say you have the means to remove me, you’d better use them, hadn’t you?’
And he sat calmly down upon the cobbles.
*
It took two troopers to carry Mr Radford away and Gabriel was left with a feeling of having been made to look rather foolish. On the following morning, therefore, he entered the church of St Mary the Virgin for the opening of the Putney Debates in entirely the wrong frame of mind for a meeting whose aim was that of reconciliation.
He wasn’t the only one.
Edward Sexby who, together with civilian John Wildman, had drafted The Agreement of the People, launched the first quarrel of the day.
‘We sought,’ he said, ‘to satisfy all men but, in going to it, we have dissatisfied all men. We have laboured to please the King but I think, unless we all go and cut our throats, we shall not please him; and we have supported a House which consists of a company of rotten members.’ He paused. ‘Lieutenant-General Cromwell and Commissary-General Ireton have attempted to settle the Kingdom on the foundations of King and Parliament – but I hope they will do no more in that direction. I hope that, henceforth, any settlement that is made will rely on the Army.’
This was more than Henry Ireton was prepared to stomach. Surging to his feet, he said flatly, ‘I have neither purpose nor desire to set up the King – and I think I have demonstrated this. But I do not seek and would not seek the destruction of either Parliament or King. Neither will I concur with those who will not attempt to preserve both – and make good use of both – for the Kingdom.’
Gabriel sighed, stared up at the timber-trussed roof and waited to hear precise details of the document they were supposed to be discussing.
These, as it turned out, were contained in four surprisingly brief articles – three of which bore certain similarities to the Heads of the Proposals. But the last clause maintained that the ‘power of this and all future Representatives of this nation is inferior only to theirs who choose them’ and that the people’s consent was the only foundation of just government.
A jumble of dissenting voices filled the church and Colonel Brandon sank down in his pew, chin on chest. He couldn’t help feeling that the Leveller programme had a certain amount of right on its side. Unfortunately, however, he couldn’t see it being anything more than a charming pipe-dream during his lifetime – or, quite possibly, for a long time after it. And if anyone tried to implement it now, it was also likely to prove a sure road to chaos.
Cromwell apparently thought to, too, but was minded to be diplomatic.
‘This paper contains in it very great alterations to the government of the Kingdom,’ he said carefully. ‘And wise and godly men ought to consider what the consequences of such an alteration would be. If we could leap out of one condition into another, I suppose there would not be much dispute. But what if – whilst we are disputing these things – another company of men shall gather together and put out a paper as plausible as this?
Would not the result of that be confusion? So give me leave to say this. There will be very great mountains in the way of this … and it is not enough to propose things that are good in the end. It is our duty as Christians and men to consider the consequences.’
Despite this well-reasoned appeal, the afternoon wore on in heated argument. Ireton wanted nothing to do with the Agreement and pointed out that, having vowed its adherence to the Heads of the Proposals, the Army could not change tack just because the said Proposals no longer pleased them; Cromwell continued trying to achieve some degree of unity between the factions before the debate began in earnest; and Wildman and his fellow-Levellers wanted a quick decision before Parliament put the King in such a position that he could simply choose who to hang first.
The result was that they eventually agreed to begin the following day’s agenda with a prayer meeting. Gabriel left the church convinced that, thus far, the proceedings had been a waste of time – and was therefore not disposed to be tactful when Hugh Peter blocked his path to remark that his lack of spiritual ardour was setting a poor example to his regiment.
Gabriel did not like Hugh Peter. Neither was he prepared to be told how to do his job by a rabble-rousing preacher who dabbled in espionage and politics. Raising openly derisive brows, he said so.
Peter flushed angrily.
‘You are arrogant, sir!’
‘And you’re not, I suppose?’
‘I am merely tending the souls in my care and establishing the Rule of the Saints for the greater glory of God.’
‘Are you?’ said Gabriel. ‘My mistake, then, I thought it was for the greater glory of Hugh Peter.’ And he strode away without waiting for a reply.
*
It was fortunate for the state of Colonel Brandon’s temper that, once the prayers were over, the second day of the debates opened with a constructive decision to consider each Article of the Agreement separately. For a brief, exhilarating moment, Gabriel had visions of them making some progress. But as soon as Article One was read out with its requirement that constituencies be proportioned according to the number of inhabitants, Henry Ireton immediately rose up and asked whether this implied that there was to be universal suffrage. Gabriel leaned back, crossed his ankles and prepared for another long day.