Garland of Straw (Roundheads & Cavaliers Book 2)

by Stella Riley

  Something that was almost a smile surfaced on the weatherbeaten face.

  ‘I wouldn’t mind giving it a go, Colonel - and that’s a fact.’

  ‘I need more than that. I’m relying on you to make it work. Our looms will have to be kept busy with wool through the spring and summer and with linen for the rest of the year – otherwise we’re more likely to lose money than make it. So if you don’t think we can grow flax successfully, you’d better tell me now.’

  ‘We can grow it, right enough. Land’s in good heart and soil’s right for it hereabouts. But as to how much we can grow … well, I’d have to think on that’n.’

  ‘It seems to me,’ remarked Venetia to no one in particular, ‘that the biggest problem would be with the retting.’

  The grey eyes encompassed her immediately.

  ‘Retting? You’re talking about soaking the plants so the fibres can be removed? Why might that be a problem?’

  ‘Because as the plants rot, they taint the water and start to swell – so it’s illegal to place them in running streams. There’s a retting-pool in Stavely – but, so far as I’m aware, no one hereabouts has grown flax since before the war, so it may be unusable by now.’ She gave him a bright, indulgent smile. ‘But I’m sure you won’t let a little thing like that stand in your way.’

  ‘Not if I can help it, no.’ Gabriel rose and faced the bailiff. ‘How long will you need in which to come up with the necessary facts and figures regarding our flax capacity?’

  ‘Not long. Two or three days, happen.’

  ‘Make it two. And, in the meantime, I don’t want any word of this leaking out around the estate. Clear?’

  ‘Clear, Colonel.’

  ‘Good. Then I think that’s all for now. I’ll see you again the day after tomorrow and, as always, I thank you for your patience.’

  He waited until Mr Carter had left the room and then, turning to Venetia, said, ‘You may now speak your mind. Am I to assume that none of this has your approval?’

  ‘Do you care either way?’

  ‘Not especially – though I should have thought the estate had enough problems without you and me working against each other.’ He folded his arms and eyed her caustically. ‘So what’s bothering you? Is it the thought of Brandon Lacey becoming involved in trade? Or just the usual simple mistrust of my motives?’

  ‘Both.’ Even if she’d been convinced that there was no more to his plans than met the eye, nothing would have induced her admit the flair and originality of them. Not after the way he’d spoken to her in front of Dick Carter. She said sweetly, ‘As yet, however, I don’t know whether I approve or disapprove. Only time will tell. All I can say with any certainty is that, although many gentlemen have commercial interests, they don’t situate them in their own back yards. There’s something rather vulgar about it. But I daresay you wouldn’t understand that.’

  ‘No,’ agreed Gabriel blandly. ‘So perhaps it’s just as well I’m only a nasty, common soldier. For if I were a gentleman, you’d be free to wipe your boots on me without fear of reprisal, wouldn’t you? And the tenants would be left to starve in genteel, time-honoured fashion.’

  *

  Two days later, while the Colonel was busy with Mr Carter, Venetia’s maid handed her a small, sealed missive containing just six words written in a hand she didn’t recognise.

  The old mill at Ferrensby. Noon.

  Venetia contemplated it thoughtfully and felt a faint lifting of her spirits. Captain Peverell, of course. Who else? And if he’d risked writing to her rather than wait for her to resume her weekly pilgrimage to Mary Jessop, it could only mean one thing. He had work for her.

  The Ferrensby mill was almost completely derelict and had been for years. Venetia eyed it from the back of her mare for several minutes before slipping to the ground by means of a convenient boulder. Then, leaving Dulcie tied beneath a tree, she plodded through the melting snow to peer in at the gaping doorway. The time, so far as she was able to guess it, must be just a little past midday.

  Inside the ruin, shadows jostled with patches of greenish light and pigeons cooed gently from somewhere overhead. Venetia stepped cautiously under the lintel and said softly, ‘Is anyone there?’

  No reply. Not even an echo. Clutching her cloak around her, she advanced to the centre of the rubble-strewn floor. And then a voice, disembodied in the gloom said, ‘You came. How utterly delightful. Bienvenue, chérie.’

  Shock paralysed every nerve and muscle and, for a long eviscerating moment, Venetia was incapable of anything except simply keeping herself upright. But finally she managed to say raggedly, ‘You’re a bit late.’

  ‘Sadly, yes. But don’t they say better late than never?’

  ‘Some people may. I, however, am not one of them.’

  Perfectly assured and exquisitely-dressed beneath a trailing black cloak, Sir Ellis Brandon detached himself from the shadows and advanced on her, smiling.

  ‘You’re not very welcoming, sweetheart.’

  ‘Did you expect me to fall on your neck?’

  ‘Let us say that I hoped.’

  ‘A forlorn hope, then – just as mine was when I hoped you’d come back,’ replied Venetia stonily. Then, as numbness gave way to anger so sudden and intense it made her shake, ‘Where the hell have you been till now? I needed you here two months ago and you knew it – but you stayed away and couldn’t even be bothered to write. My God! What kind of welcome do you think you deserve?’

  ‘A smile – a kind word – a kiss?’ he shrugged.

  ‘Then seek them elsewhere for you deserve none of them from me.’ He was close enough now for her to see the jewel winking in his ear and smell the faint, familiar perfume of his clothes. The burnished chestnut hair was the same … and the bold, brown gaze; but a neat replica of the King’s beard had joined the moustache. Between the two, his mouth looked somehow thinner than she had remembered it. ‘At the moment I feel more inclined to hit you.’

  ‘So do it.’

  ‘Don’t tempt me.’

  Ellis sighed and reflected that he should have known better than to hope that the surprise of seeing him would make her forget to be angry. The only thing one could ever count on with Venetia was her obstinacy. He therefore gave up trying to make her smile and said, ‘Very well. What do you want me to say?’

  She drew a long, uneven breath.

  ‘An apology might be a good place to start. And then an explanation.’

  ‘My dear … do you really need to hear me say I’m sorry? Don’t you know that I’ve been in torment ever since Peverell brought me your letter?’

  ‘No. Since you declined to write, how could I?’

  ‘That wasn’t entirely my fault, you know. Her Majesty commanded my presence at a series of meetings concerning a scheme to rescue the Duke of York. You wouldn’t have wanted me to put my own affairs before the safety of a boy left alone in the hands of his father’s enemies, would you?’ He took her hands and held them against his chest. ‘And, even if I had – what good would it have done? I couldn’t have overset my father’s damned will. With Brandon Lacey lost and Ford Edge doomed to go the same way if I interfered, my being here would only have made everything harder than it already was. Can’t you see that?’

  Venetia dragged her hands free and turned away, hurt squeezing her chest.

  ‘Just now, all I can see is that you left me to sink or swim as if the five years of our betrothal - not to mention all the years before it - had never been. If you cared for me at all, you would have been here when I needed you.’

  ‘My heart, I’ve already explained —’

  ‘No. You haven’t. All you’ve done so far is give me excuses and shower me with meaningless endearments.’ She swung abruptly back to rake his face with lightless eyes. ‘I’m still waiting to hear whether I ever meant anything at all to you, Ellis – and whether you give a tinker’s curse that I’ve been forced to marry your bastard brother.’

  He stood still and allowed her
words to lap the edges of the mill. Then, with a faint sigh, he said, ‘You think I like it any better than you?’

  ‘If I knew that, I wouldn’t be asking.’

  ‘In that case, you’re the one who has forgotten – not just our betrothal – but the relationship we once had.’ He paused. ‘You’re busy blaming me … but could I not just as easily blame you? After all, you were the one who put Ford Edge above everything else. And, in the light of my father’s insane will, would you have acted any differently even if I had been here?’

  There was an element of justice in what Ellis said. But then, he was persuasive. He’d always been persuasive – even as a child. He was the one who’d talked Kit and Harry both into and out of trouble; then, when something arose that neither charm nor cajolery could mend, he’d developed a habit of simply disappearing. And, as far as Venetia could see, he was still doing it.

  She said remotely, ‘We’ll never know, will we? And it’s unfair of you to try turning the tables. The truth is that you and Harry left me with very little choice. Someone had to think of the family … and I had Mother constantly at my elbow.’ She moved somewhat irresolutely back to the light of the doorway. ‘I’m very tired of being the one who’s left to cope with life’s nasty realities.’

  Ellis followed her and, swift to recognise the subtle shift in her mood, permitted himself a moment in which to enjoy the cameo-like purity of her profile. She had always been a beauty and she still was. It was just a pity she was also strong-willed, shrewd and alarmingly capable.

  On a note of carefully-judged compassion, he said, ‘Is it very bad, your marriage?’

  ‘In itself, probably not,’ she said wearily. ‘There’s an automatic hostility between us. But he doesn’t force his presence on me or disgust me with his manners or even attempt to control my life. So in those ways, I suppose it could be worse. No. The thing that hurts beyond bearing is the – the finality of it. The knowledge that this is it; unchangeable and fixed in lead forever.’

  Once more, Ellis closed the space between them.

  ‘There’s very little in life that can’t be changed, sweetheart. For example, the bastard may hold Brandon Lacey for the present – but he’ll not have it for long. Similarly, now that Ford Edge is yours, there’s nothing to stop you leaving him.’

  He felt rather than saw the tremor that afflicted her.

  ‘With you?’ she asked remotely.

  Ellis hesitated and then risked it.

  ‘If you don’t mind sharing poverty and exile – yes.’

  Seconds ticked by in silence. But finally, rigid with strain, she said, ‘And turn myself into another Celia Maxwell? I don’t think so.’

  A faint smile touched his mouth and then was gone.

  ‘I take your point. But it leaves us with only one option that I can see. Do you want me to kill him for you?’

  This time she wheeled to face him so quickly he barely had time to guard his expression and was faintly taken aback by the raw anguish he saw in hers.

  ‘Stop it! Don’t you know, even now, that this isn’t a game?’

  ‘I wasn’t treating it as such.’

  ‘Yes you were! It’s what you do – what you always do. Dear God!’ Suddenly, without quite knowing how it had come about, she was crying. ‘Why do you say things you know you don’t mean? Why? Is honesty and a little ordinary comfort beyond you?’

  ‘Of course not.’ His arms closed about her. ‘I just wasn’t sure how it would be received if I offered it.’

  A thousand memories of the closeness that had existed in years gone by came racing back, causing her to cling briefly. Then, brushing the tears impatiently from her face, she stepped back, saying, ‘I don’t know the answer to that myself.’

  ‘Then perhaps we should find out.’ Ellis smiled, tracing the line of her cheek with light, confident fingers.

  His intention was clear and, for a moment, Venetia simply froze. Other memories - this time, ones she’d tried to suppress – flooded over her like an icy deluge, reminding her that she had made this mistake before and lived to regret it.

  ‘No! Under the circumstances, that’s probably the very last thing we should do,’ she replied, removing herself from his arms and into the unrelenting drizzle outside. ‘I’m sorry, Ellis. I realise there are things we should discuss and questions you’ll want to ask about Brandon Lacey but I don’t think I can handle them today. Later, perhaps – but not yet.’

  It was by no means what Ellis had hoped for but, since pressing her now would only make things more difficult, he merely shook his head sadly.

  ‘Is this what it’s come to? You haven’t asked how I got here or what my plans are – or even what news there is from France. Has my reappearance really been such an unpleasant shock?’

  ‘A shock certainly – and one I need time to come to terms with.’ She continued walking steadily back towards her horse. ‘You said something about trying to get the Duke of York out of the country. Are you leaving for London immediately?’

  ‘Not quite. I’ve a few things to do here first. But since I can’t have my presence in the district too widely known, I was rather hoping to engage your assistance.’

  ‘Ah … I see.’ Despite everything, Venetia found she was still unprepared for the new wave of hurt that swept over her. ‘I suppose I ought to have realised that you must have had a reason for wanting to see me.’

  ‘Christ! You really are determined to think the worst, aren’t you?’ Catching hold of her elbows, he jerked her to a standstill in front of him and gave her a little shake. ‘What does it take to convince you? This?’ He pulled her against him, his intention obvious. ‘Do you think I’ve forgotten that week in Oxford? Do you?’

  She wrenched herself free and pushed him away.

  ‘It’s of no consequence whether you have or not,’ she said jerkily. And thought, I only wish I could forget it. God knows, I’ve tried – but it doesn’t go away. Not ever. ‘I don’t want to speak of it.’

  His hands dropped away from her and his colour rose.

  ‘You’re not still thinking of that, are you? You must know I didn’t mean it.’

  ‘No. I don’t.’ Swallowing hard, Venetia said, ‘If you won’t let the subject drop, I’m leaving.’

  ‘But —’

  ‘No! It hardly matters now - and this is exactly what I wanted to avoid. What happened between us was improper but not wrong because we expected to marry. Only now I am married – and not to you. And that makes everything different.’

  There was a brief silence.

  ‘Does he know?’ asked Ellis.

  ‘No.’ A rare flush stained her skin. ‘There hasn’t been any occasion for him to find out.’

  The brown eyes widened.

  ‘You mean he’s never —’

  ‘No. Fortunately, he doesn’t like me very much – or, indeed, at all.’

  Tiny sparks of mischief danced in Ellis’s eyes and he laughed.

  ‘I hate to disillusion you, sweetheart – but liking doesn’t have very much to do with it. And, in the light of your manifold charms, it does tend to make one wonder a little about his preferences.’

  ‘They’re pretty mundane, I should think.’ Having spent years at Court, Venetia had no need to ask what he meant but was surprised by quite how offensive she found the insinuation. She untied Dulcie and waited pointedly until he helped her into the saddle. Then, ‘And, just now, he’s rather more interested in finding ways to make Brandon Lacey pay.’

  Ellis smiled invitingly up at her.

  ‘Short of money, is he? What a shame. Will you come again tomorrow and tell me all about it?’

  ‘Perhaps … or perhaps not. I don’t know.’ For the first time, she smiled back at him, but not without a sharp edge of mockery. ‘I’m afraid you’ll just have to wait and see. Unless, of course, you’re eager to meet your brother and prepared to come knocking at his gate?’

  *

  Since Dick Carter’s estimate of the amount of flax Br
andon Lacey could grow was more than encouraging, Gabriel devoted the rest of his day to a detailed discussion on the quickest and most efficient means of putting his ideas into practice. Then, over supper, he explained it all to Sophia.

  ‘It sounds promising,’ she said, when at length he paused for breath. ‘But won’t it be expensive to set up?’

  ‘Not especially.’ With a mental shrug, Gabriel stopped contemplating his wife’s unusually still face. ‘The Scar Croft cottages are in a reasonable state of repair; and, as for the spinning-wheels, looms, carding-combs, gears, hackles and so forth – Carter tells me I can probably buy most of what we’ll need from a widow at Boroughbridge who’s selling up to go and live with her daughter. I’ll ride over to see her tomorrow and then, if all goes well, I can begin sounding out the tenants.’

  ‘Do you think they’ll agree to work for you?’ asked Phoebe, transferring a collop from dish to platter.

  ‘I hope so. Carter and I have fixed what we feel is a fair daily rate – and this whole scheme is as much for their benefit as it is ours.’ He paused, his gaze returning to Venetia. ‘I also intend to go over to York next week to introduce myself to the Merchant Adventurers Company. And it occurred to me that, since Mistress Elizabeth’s wedding will soon be upon us, you might like to accompany me in order to visit your seamstress – or whatever it is that you deem necessary on these occasions.’

  Venetia continued pushing food around her plate and gave no sign of having heard him. Then, becoming vaguely aware of the silence, she said, ‘I’m sorry. You said something about going to Boroughbridge?’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ he agreed. And, in a tone of complete impassivity, repeated his invitation to York. ‘I should also add that I’m not suggesting that you and I go alone. Sophy may like to come too … and Phoebe, if she can spare the time from her quest.’

  ‘Of course I can!’ Phoebe’s face glowed with pleasure. ‘Heavens! We haven’t been to York for ages, have we Venetia? And though you wouldn’t have a new gown for your own wedding, you’ll certainly need one for Bess’s because Mother will have half the county there.’