by Stella Riley
‘Hardly,’ shrugged the Major, following him out into the street. ‘You know Wat – the unofficial commissariat, always busy turning the odd coin on illicit supplies.’ He cast a slanting glance at Gabriel’s profile and said lightly, ‘Dare I ask why you don’t go and guard your wife’s door yourself?’
The dark brows soared.
‘Because after the hellish journey I’ve just had, I intend to become nasty and drunken myself as fast as possible. Why do you think?’
‘Oh.’ Eden walked along in silence for a moment, wondering how best to find out if the last few days had mended the rift between them. ‘Then perhaps you’d care to share some ale with me while I send someone to search out Wat?’
‘That,’ responded the Colonel, ‘is the best offer I’ve had all day.’
Throughout several flagons of beer, Gabriel kept to strictly neutral topics such as the state of the roads and the Parliament’s recent repeal of the Vote of No Addresses – with the result that Wat arrived to find him in the early stages of inebriation.
Fixing a deeply disapproving gaze in him, he said dourly, ‘Having a liquid supper, are you?’
‘You sound like somebody’s mother.’ Gabriel tossed some coins down on the table, waved a vague farewell to Eden and bore his henchman back out into the night. ‘Or so I imagine. I can’t speak from experience, of course.’
Mr Larkin’s habitual scowl turned imperceptibly into real anxiety.
‘What’s happened?’
‘Happened? Why, nothing very much. I rode to Brandon Lacey and came back again, that’s all.’ Gabriel continued his slightly weaving progress up the street. ‘Ah yes. I almost forgot. I brought my lovely wife – my faithful helpmeet, my pearl beyond price – back with me.’
‘You did what?’
‘You heard. She’s snug as a bug in her virtuous bed at the Rose and Crown. Or at least, I hope she is. It’s never wise to take these things for granted, is it?’
Wat caught hold of his arm and pulled him to a standstill against a water-butt. Staring grimly into the shuttered face, he said, ‘What’s she done?’
There was a small pause and finally Gabriel said remotely, ‘I’m not sure it’s what she’s done that matters.’
‘God’s teeth!’ muttered Wat. ‘All right. Have it your own way. What have you done?’
Another silence. Then, his nonchalant façade suddenly shattering, Gabriel said, ‘I’m not sure. I wish I was. But, on balance, I’d say I’ve made one catastrophic mistake on top of another. And I don’t know what I can do about it.’
*
After an extremely restless night, Venetia spent the bulk of the following day staring out of the window and wondering whether Gabriel was avoiding her on purpose or had simply forgotten she was there. In the end, she jettisoned her pride, summoned Mr Larkin and asked if the Colonel was likely to join her for dinner. Wat curbed an impulse to spit and told her – with perfect truth – that he hadn’t the least idea. Then he stamped back to the pile of wood-shavings he’d been methodically creating in the taproom.
Gabriel stayed away from Venetia all of that day and most of the next – by which time her deepening depression had become tinged with rising indignation. Then, just as she was rehearsing some of the things she’d like to say to her damnably elusive husband, Wat stuck his head around the door and announced that the Colonel would be grateful for five minutes of her time downstairs in the parlour.
Venetia considered informing Mr Larkin that, if the Colonel wanted to see her, he knew where she was. Then, deciding against it, she sailed downstairs with a fast-beating heart and a degree of well-simulated confidence.
Gabriel was sitting on the edge of the table, frowning down at his hat and idly swinging one booted foot. Venetia said abruptly, ‘Don’t tell me. You’re not staying.’
He rose and faced her unsmilingly. ‘I’m busy.’
‘So I’ve gathered. But you must eat some time?’
‘I do. Do you want a list of what and when?’
A chill invaded her bones.
‘No. I just want to talk.’
‘Do we have anything to say to each other?’
‘Yes. Unless you’re suggesting we – we just forget everything that’s happened?’
‘I will if you will,’ shrugged Gabriel. ‘But I haven’t time for this now. I merely came to say that we’re leaving here tomorrow morning with a hundred of my men and half a dozen prisoners of war. So it would be helpful if —’ He stopped in response to a knock at the door and bade whoever it was to come in. Then, looking with faint annoyance at Major Maxwell, he said curtly, ‘I hope this is important.’
‘It is.’ Eden accorded Venetia a swift bow and an apologetic smile before turning back to the Colonel. ‘I hear you’re leaving for London tomorrow.’
‘Well? What about it?’
‘I want to come with you,’ came the tense reply. ‘In short, I’ll go to Thorne Ash and attend Tabitha’s wedding – if you’ll come as well to dilute the inevitable sentimentality of it all. With Mistress Venetia, naturally.’
‘Naturally,’ agreed Gabriel dryly. And with a brief, hard laugh, ‘Why not? If you don’t mind turning up with a hundred motley ruffians at your back, who am I to quibble? And if there’s one thing my lady-wife and I excel at, it’s stifling the merest hint of sentiment.’ The dark eyes swept over Venetia and then returned to the Major. ‘Very well. We’ll come. And now, if you don’t mind …?’
‘Consider me gone,’ said Eden briskly. And went.
Scarcely waiting for the door to close behind him, Venetia said flatly, ‘I don’t know what all that was about – but I do know one thing. Wild horses won’t drag me to any wedding at Thorne Ash.’
He regarded her impassively.
‘You haven’t a thing to wear? Don’t worry. I’m sure the mere fact of your presence will outweigh any sartorial considerations. And now … I was about to say that you should be ready to leave by ten o’clock and that I’ve arranged for the wife of one of my sergeants to ride with you in order to preserve you from impertinence. Not,’ he finished, picking up his hat, ‘that I think you’ll be subjected to any.’
And with a small, perfunctory bow, he walked calmly out of the room – leaving Venetia staring speechlessly after him.
*
With abundant time in which to get to Banbury, Gabriel ordered a leisurely march as far as Warwick and spent most of it riding beside the Duke of Hamilton – that unfailingly polite gentleman who had been an unqualified disaster both as a soldier and as a diplomat and who, according to the satirists, had such an ingeniously subtle brain that he couldn’t follow its workings himself. Gabriel found him pleasant but ponderous company and was glad when Warwick came into view. Then, as soon as his prisoners and his wife were suitably bestowed, he decided to exchange a few private words with the gentleman calling himself Colonel Ambrose.
Making sure that both Wat and Eden were occupied elsewhere, he had the Cavalier brought to his quarters and, as soon as they were alone, said bluntly, ‘I suppose I should thank you for your discretion.’
Colonel Ambrose lifted one cool eyebrow.
‘Unnecessary. Your personal life is no one’s affair but your own.’
Gabriel eyed his guest thoughtfully. The austere, severely-sculpted face gave nothing away but the buff coat had plainly seen a lot of wear and the tattered blue sash was flamboyantly tied. He said, ‘Who are you?’
‘Ah.’ A sudden, gleaming grin appeared. ‘Everybody’s favourite question.’ And then, sweeping the floor with the bedraggled plume of his hat, ‘Justin Ambrose. A humble soldier of fortune.’
Experiencing an odd tug of liking, Gabriel waved him into a chair and poured two cups of wine.
‘Humble? I wouldn’t say that. They tell me you are a Colonel.’
‘Oh – that.’ Justin accepted the wine with a tiny nod of thanks. ‘I wouldn’t set too much store by that, if I were you. I fought all the way through the first war with one eye on promoti
on and ended it a mere Captain. I present myself for service at the beginning of the second and suddenly I’m a Colonel. It’s called desperation.’
Gabriel didn’t think so. If what they said about Pontefract was true, the fellow was good. He said, ‘If you fought under Langdale, why didn’t you leave with him?’
‘Quitting the country isn’t an option for me. Also, having respect for Hamilton’s personal courage, I had some idea of trying to mend his luck. My mistake, obviously.’ The tone was suddenly bitter and acutely restless. ‘Why did you send for me? You didn’t need to.’
‘Unfortunately, I did,’ replied Gabriel. ‘There are at least three people in this convoy who would like to know precisely what my half-brother said that night in Preston.’
‘Your half-brother?’ The light gaze sharpened. Then, with a small, mirthless laugh, ‘Well, well. In that case, you may be absolutely assured of my silence.’ Justin drained his cup and stood up. ‘Do you mind if I ask why we’re travelling so slowly? Not, of course, that I’m in any particular hurry to reach London.’
‘No, I imagine not.’ Gabriel shrugged. ‘As for our lack of haste … Major Maxwell has a wedding to attend near Banbury. And it’s my self-imposed duty to see he gets there.’
An extremely peculiar expression crossed Colonel Ambrose’s face and then he dissolved into sardonic laughter.
‘Oh God,’ he said breathlessly. ‘Banbury. That’s all I need. Get careless with me there, Colonel, and the Parliament could be saved the trouble of putting me on trial. But it’s an ill-wind, as they say. At least there’ll be plenty of people willing and eager to tell you who I am – not excluding Major Maxwell’s strong-minded sister.’
Gabriel’s eyes widened a little.
‘You know Kate?’
‘In a manner of speaking. I inherited the task of collecting Thorne Ash’s rents during the latter part of the war. Some of them, anyway. Mistress Kate cheated, you see – and prevented me from curtailing her little game by informing me that my predecessor had run off with her elder brother’s wife.’ He paused, meeting the suddenly frowning gaze. ‘The plot thickens, doesn’t it? But don’t worry. The Major’s secrets are as safe with me as yours are – and there’s no reason why he should even guess that I know.’
*
On the following afternoon, Gabriel stopped his cavalcade just short of Banbury and rode into the town to consult with the County Committee about suitable quartering for his men. Then he returned with what he personally considered an admirable solution, expounded it to Major Maxwell – and found he had conjured up a storm.
‘Far Flamstead?’ echoed Eden wildly. ‘You want to billet us all at Far Flamstead?’
‘That’s what I said. It’s under sequestration and close to —’
‘Do you know who it belongs to?’
‘The Viscount Wroxton – currently in exile,’ sighed Gabriel patiently. ‘Is he a friend of yours?’
‘He’s Celia’s father!’ Eden struggled to control his breathing. ‘And Far Flamstead was where she slept with Hugo Verney. So if you think I’m setting foot in the place, you can think again! It’s even worse than going to Thorne Ash.’
Gabriel could well understand this. But, because it did no good to sympathise, he said quietly, ‘Then, if you can face that, you can face anything. And, having come this far, it would be a pity to let the ghosts win now.’
~ ~ ~
FOUR
After six years of neglect and the visits of more than one looting party, Far Flamstead was no longer the elegant house it had once been. Eden entered it white-faced and silent … and started issuing orders in a tone which soon had a hundred men scurrying around like mice. Gabriel left him to get on with it and reluctantly turned his own attention to finding a suitably habitable room for his wife. He did not know that she, too, felt less than comfortable about invading Far Flamstead – and Venetia saw no point in telling him. She merely went where she was told and set about trying to remove the creases from her only silk gown in readiness for making an appearance at Thorne Ash.
With the prisoners secure in the charge of Lieutenant Billings and no further excuses remaining to him, Eden Maxwell left Far Flamstead on the following morning, accompanied by Colonel and Mistress Brandon, and reluctantly rode home for the first time in two years. Gabriel punctuated the journey with light talk to which Venetia contributed nothing; but Eden, less sure than ever why he had decided to come home, noticed neither. He only knew that, more than anything else, he was dreading the moment when he would have to greet four-year-old Viola Mary … who was more likely Hugo Verney’s daughter than his own.
Thorne Ash slid into view at the end of the lane, tranquil and unpretentious as ever and he felt a sharp tug of nostalgia. Then they were riding into the courtyard and his mother, closely followed by Tabitha and Kate, erupted from the house to congeal in a small huddle in front of it. Disconnected and paralysed, Eden remained ramrod-stiff in the saddle. It had been too long. He didn’t know what to say and he was afraid that the first unwary word might shatter him like glass. So he sat like a stone until Kate drew their mother gently forward saying acerbically, ‘It’s not enough just to show that you’re still alive, Eden. You have to speak as well.’
The spell dissolved and he dismounted slowly, his eyes fixed on Dorothy. The lovely dark red hair was lightly touched with silver and the tawny-green eyes were dilated with shock … but otherwise she looked exactly the same. Then a swift, heart-stopping smile lit her face and she held out her hands, drawing him into a warm, scented embrace.
‘Oh my dear,’ she finally said unsteadily. ‘I’m so glad you decided to come. Thank you.’ And released him, with reluctance, to Tabitha’s bubbling exuberance and Kate’s merciful astringence.
Eden wasn’t sure what either he or they said. He was just glad that he had a distraction to hand. As soon as he was free to do so, he turned with a small gesture which encompassed both Gabriel and Venetia and said baldly, ‘As you can see, I’ve brought some friends. Mistress Venetia needs no introduction to any of you, of course. But I believe that her husband – Colonel Brandon – is known only to Kate. And since it’s he who is largely responsible for … for my presence here, I thought you might like the opportunity of congratulating him.’
It worked, of course. He had known it would. And despite both the air of barely-concealed tension between Kate and Venetia and the fact that he himself was stiffening his resolve for what presumably lay ahead in the house, they were all swept inside on a tide of pleasure and excitement.
The hall and parlour were just as he remembered them – and mercifully empty. Eden looked around him and said casually, ‘Where is everyone?’
‘Making themselves scarce,’ grinned Tabitha. ‘I saw you coming and Kate thought you might find it easier to deal with us in instalments. So Ralph’s taken Geoffrey and Luciano out riding, Toby got the job of coaxing the children back to the nursery and Amy is changing her gown.’
Eden smiled faintly and looked at Kate.
‘I thought Luciano was prohibited from leaving Genoa by his uncle’s ill-health?’
‘And so he was.’ Exquisitely clad in costly bronze watered silk, Kate finished pouring wine and moved amongst them handing out glasses. ‘Sadly, Vittorio died two months ago … and that rather changed things.’
‘Oh. I see.’ He paused and then, less tactfully than he meant, added, ‘So Luciano is now his own master.’
‘Luciano has always been his own master,’ came the characteristic reply. ‘I thought you knew that.’
No longer able to read her son accurately, Dorothy said quickly, ‘Venetia, my dear – I don’t know where you’ve sprung from but I sincerely hope that, having brought Eden to us, you and the Colonel are going to accept our hospitality until after the wedding.’
Venetia smiled. ‘That’s kind of you. But I’m afraid it will depend on whether Gabriel can leave his prisoners.’
‘Prisoners?’ Tabitha turned an awed gaze on the Colonel. �
�Are they Scots from the battle at Preston?’
‘Five are,’ responded Gabriel. ‘The fifth is a Cavalier Colonel who was once attached to the Banbury garrison. He says his name is Ambrose.’
‘Justin Ambrose?’ asked Kate sharply. And, when Gabriel nodded, ‘I know him. He used to collect our taxes.’
‘He’s also,’ added Tabitha, ‘the gentleman who seduced Abigail Radford. Or so they say.’
Venetia’s eyes widened but she said nothing.
Gabriel looked at Eden and said, ‘Radford as in Samuel Radford?’
‘His sister.’ Eden gave a short laugh. ‘My God! Are you going to ask Ambrose if it’s true?’
‘Why should I? It’s no affair of mine.’
‘Well said,’ nodded Tabitha cheerfully. ‘So where is he now?’
There was a small, awkward pause and then, in as few words as possible, Gabriel told her. Dorothy stared speechlessly at her son, plainly horrified and Tabitha narrowly avoided choking on her wine. Kate, on the other hand, fixed Gabriel with a jewel-bright stare and steered the conversation clear of catastrophe. ‘I assume you’re taking Colonel Ambrose to London. Is there a particular reason for that?’
Gabriel shrugged. ‘It’s not my decision. But my superiors apparently think they have sufficient cause. Why do you ask?’
‘Because, despite his mission here, I didn’t dislike him,’ came the direct response. ‘And, after what happened at Colchester, one can’t help but feel a certain concern.’
Gabriel and Eden exchanged quick glances and Venetia said sharply, ‘Why? What did happen at Colchester?’
‘Haven’t you heard? It surrendered four days ago – having eaten all the horses and most of the dogs and cats,’ replied Kate. ‘And twenty-four hours later, Sir Charles Lucas and Sir George Lisle were put against a wall and shot.’
Some of the colour drained from Venetia’s skin but she kept her face carefully blank, not realising that the two people who knew her best were watching her hands.