By The Sword

by Alison Stuart

  The moment she had sent the letter to Sir Francis Thornton, accepting his invitation, she had regretted the decision. Like her son, she had travelled little in her life, and the thought of making the long journey to Worcestershire filled her with dread. Using her sister's confinement as an excuse, she had delayed the journey as long as she could, but Suzanne had been safely delivered of another girl, the weather had improved and the promised visit could wait no longer.

  She turned back to face her son. Tom turned a pale, worried face up towards his mother as Ellen, who had travelled with them, dragged a brush through his obstinate locks.

  "Will they like me?” he asked anxiously.

  "How can they not?” Kate smiled at him with a conviction she did not feel.

  She planted a kiss on his forehead, and he cringed away from her.

  "Please don't do that, Mother,” he protested, and despite herself she laughed.

  At the door to the parlour where they had been led by the elderly steward, they hesitated. Thomas slipped his hand into his mother's and Kate squeezed it reassuringly.

  A young woman sat perched on the broad windowsill of the long, low window intent upon some intricate embroidery. She set this down as Kate and her son entered and rose to her feet. Tom looked up anxiously at his mother who released his hand and dropped a dutiful curtsy.

  Before she could rise, the young woman had crossed the floor and embraced her.

  "Mistress Ashley, I'm so pleased you have come!"

  She released Kate, who, unbalanced by the effusive welcome, took a step backwards to recover her composure. The woman turned to Tom, who bowed stiffly.

  "And you must be Thomas. I am your cousin Eleanor,” the woman said and returned his bow with a polite curtsy.

  She looked at Kate, a warm smile lighting the pretty, heart-shaped face.

  "Lady Eleanor Longley, but please call me Nell. We are kin after all. May I call you Katherine?"

  Kate blinked. “Kate,” she stuttered, “I'm always Kate."

  "Now, let me look at you, Tom,” Nell said and, placing her hands on Tom's shoulders, appeared to study him intently. “I do declare you are the image of my brother, Jonathan, at the same age. See there behind you, Kate, is a small portrait of my brothers done when Ned was about fifteen and Jonathan twelve or thirteen. I can't recall exactly, although I do remember Jonathan got into terrible trouble for turning up late."

  Kate turned to look at a charming head and shoulders study of two boys. The older one, she assumed to be ‘Ned', shared his sister's golden hair and wide, sunny smile. The younger one, dark-haired Jonathan, glowered sulkily from the canvas. Even allowing for the sullen expression the resemblance to Tom was, as Nell had observed, striking.

  "Nell, please forgive me. I'm afraid I know nothing of my husband's family,” Kate said. “Will I have the pleasure of meeting your brothers?"

  Nell's mouth drooped. “Of course. I took it for granted that you would know of whom I spoke. Dear Ned we lost at Edgehill, the first battle of the war, my father at Naseby and Jonathan ... of course...” She waved her hand, dismissing Jonathan's fate. “We are a very sad family as you will come to see. My own dear husband, Giles, is an exile in France and our home, Longley Abbey, is sequestered. If it were not for the generosity of my grandfather, my daughter and I would be quite homeless."

  "I'm sorry,” Kate said. The words seemed inadequate to cover the extent of this woman's loss. “You have a daughter?"

  Nell smiled. “Ann. You will meet her later."

  "Where's Sir Francis?” Tom asked and looked anxiously around the room as if he expected his great-grandfather to jump out from behind a chest.

  "Grandfather is not in the best of health, but he will join us for supper tonight. He is very much looking forward to meeting you, Tom. Now would you like to see the house? It would be my greatest pleasure to show it to you."

  Kate guessed that Seven Ways had never been a grand house, but in its shabby gentility, it gave the sense of having always been a much-loved home. The war had left physical scars: broken wainscoting where axes had torn looking for hidden silver and bare walls where once fine pictures or tapestries had hung. The furniture was ordinary, workaday stuff and Nell told her much of the better furniture had gone as plunder when the forces of Parliament had occupied the house at the end of the war.

  "You cannot have failed to notice, Kate,” Nell said, her fingers twisting the gold chain around her neck, “that you find this house but a shadow of its former self. Our family has paid dearly for loyalty to the King."

  A fine chimney breast carved with the Thornton coat of arms—three golden leopards’ heads on a crimson field—dominated the Great Hall, a bright, well-proportioned room on the first floor. Unlike the bare walls of the other rooms, a large family portrait still hung on one of the walls and Kate stood back to study it in greater detail, puzzling at the identities of the stiffly formal group of people wearing the costume of thirty years earlier.

  "All gone save for I, Mistress Ashley."

  "Grandfather!” Nell said, “I thought you were resting?"

  Kate turned quickly and dropped a hasty curtsy. The frail, elderly man, stooped and leaning heavily on a cane, inclined his head.

  "Mistress Ashley, and unless I am gravely mistaken, this must be young Thomas?"

  Tom stood very straight and gave his great-grandfather the benefit of one of his most formal bows.

  "Sir,” he said stiffly, “it is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance."

  Kate hid a smile at the gravity of her son's demeanour.

  "And I yours, Master Ashley,” Sir Francis replied.

  The trace of a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. He indicated that the boy should come closer and reaching up, he tilted the boy's face towards him and frowned.

  "Nell, is he not like Jonathan at the same age? The resemblance is quite remarkable,” he said at last.

  "I said as much myself,” Nell said, adding, “Let us hope, for his sake, that is where the similarity ends!"

  "You were admiring the portrait, Mistress Ashley? That is my family ... in happier days.” Sir Frances turned back to Kate.

  Kate looked back at the family study. Sir Francis’ younger self dominated it, tall, upright and imposing. Only the eyes and the rather long nose, now emphasized by old age, gave the clue to the resemblance.

  Sir Francis pointed with his cane. “See there, my wife Anne, my son William and his wife Sarah and our beloved Ned as a baby.” The cane slowly lowered to the ground again. “And of course, Bess."

  Kate turned her eyes to the first likeness she had ever seen of her husband's mother. Elizabeth Thornton had been no classical beauty, but she had an arresting face and the hazel eyes, fixed forever on the father who had disowned her, revealed a determined and intelligent woman. She scanned the painted face, looking for some resemblance between this woman and her son. Perhaps there ... she could see something about the nose and mouth, or perhaps, Kate acknowledged bitterly, the memory of Richard had faded to a point where she could no longer recollect his features clearly.

  "See, Tom,” she said, “there is your grandmother."

  Tom cocked his head to one side. He turned away from the painting. “I'm pleased you have come, Mistress Ashley,” he said. “I trust my granddaughter has seen you comfortably settled."

  "Indeed, thank you, Sir Francis. I have a delightful chamber and we have been made most welcome."

  "The gatehouse was Elizabeth's chamber. I thought you would appreciate it,” he said and, blinking mildly, moved to a chair beside the hearth.

  He pointed his stick at chair opposite him, and as Kate sat, he said, “Tell me of the Ashleys. David Ashley never married again?"

  She met his eyes and read the need for reassurance in them.

  "No,” she said. “For David Ashley there was only ever one woman."

  He held her gaze then nodded slowly. “And Richard, your husband,” he paused, “...my grandson, he fought for Parliamen
t, I believe?"

  Kate nodded. “He was a captain under Sir Thomas Fairfax.” She indicated her son. “Thomas is named for him."

  Francis nodded thoughtfully. “I heard only good things of Fairfax. My grandson Jonathan had a great respect for him. Now, I think Jonathan and Richard were much of an age. Jonathan was born to soldiering. His father's attempts to turn him into a scholar were sadly wasted. What was Richard's inclination?"

  "Richard was a scholar not a soldier,” Kate said. “He hated the war."

  Kate remembered the pain in her husband's eyes as he told her of the deaths of the men under his command.

  The old man's gaze rested on her face. “Forgive me dredging up such painful memories, Mistress Ashley. I do not even know how he died."

  Kate felt the old, familiar pain clutch at her heart. It had been a great victory, the wounded told her as they had trickled into the village. Prince Rupert had been routed, the forces of the Parliament triumphant; but Kate cared nothing for Parliament or victory. The broken man beneath her hands commanded all her attention that night.

  "He died of the wounds he received at Marston Moor,” she said quietly. “His father brought him home after the battle. He took two days to die."

  Richard's grandfather shook his head. “I'm sorry, my dear,” he said, “I truly am. The war has dealt ill with this family. Nell and her little Nan, you and Thomas are really all that remains of this family and I am nearing the end of my allotted time on this earth, Mistress Ashley. It is long past time to put away the differences born only of a stubborn man and his equally stubborn daughter. Such a petty feud to cause all these years of division, and I regret every day that has passed. I hope, Mistress Ashley, Thomas, that your coming here is the start of a new chapter in the life of this family."

  Two

  Sir Francis sat in a chair by the window of his bedchamber overlooking the garden, well rugged up even though the day was warm and sunny. He looked up as Kate entered the room, placing the bowl of roses on the small table at her elbow. She saw amusement in the faded eyes and cursed the freckles that had appeared around her nose at the first touch of sun. Her hair fell in an ungovernable tangle from beneath her cap. She was certain that she must look like a common kitchen maid, not a proper wife of this man's grandson.

  His hand, long-fingered and almost skeletal, reached out to touch the blooms with a reverence that surprised her.

  "I've been watching you at work, Katherine. I fear the garden is something of a lost cause,” he said.

  "I don't like to be idle,” she said and pushed back a stray lock of hair to cover her embarrassment.

  Sir Francis nodded. “I approve. There is no room on this earth for idle people. It was one of the finest gardens in the county before several troops of Parliament horse trampled it in ‘45 looking for my scapegrace grandson. They cut down most of the orchard too.” His thin lips compressed. “Since then I've had not the time or the money to rectify the damage.” He looked at her sharply. “It pleases me that there is someone to care for it again."

  Kate looked down and touched the roses. The remains of a fine, sunken rose garden had become her focus; she spent the afternoons clearing the beds of weeds and pruning back the wilder branches and the roses, responding to the attention, bloomed in the warmth of early summer.

  "I have some of these same roses in my garden,” she said. “Richard told me his mother had planted them from stock she brought from Seven Ways. Every year David would place the first blooms on her grave.” She hesitated before adding self-consciously, “I made sure that I remembered to do the same this year."

  The old man looked into the past, some distant point over her shoulder. “Bess would have only lived to see them bloom once,” he said softly. “It is kind of you to remember."

  "David Ashley loved your daughter, Sir Francis. He never stopped loving her,” Kate said in a rush.

  He returned his gaze to her and nodded as if in approval. “Thank you, my dear. I know that. I have always known. Now, Nell tells me that you are returning home?"

  "In a few days,” she said. “I have my own responsibilities I must return to."

  The door opened and Nell entered.

  "Oh! Kate, I did not expect to find you here,” she said.

  Kate caught a flash of paper, hastily concealed in the folds of Nell's skirt.

  "Ah, Nell,” her grandfather greeted her. “I was just going to say to Kate that I will miss the boy. I enjoy our chats.” He smiled ruefully. “I do believe he's not scared of me. Have I lost the power to intimidate, do you think?"

  Nell smiled indulgently. “Grandfather, St. Peter himself will not dare refuse you entrance to heaven!” She looked at Kate. “I have some business with my grandfather, Kate. Would you excuse us?"

  Sir Francis smiled at Kate and gestured to the window. “I suggest you return to your Herculean task while the weather stays fine."

  Kate smiled and with a brisk curtsy swept out of the room to return to the roses.

  Later in the day Nell joined her, spreading a blanket beneath an oak tree while Nell's little daughter, Ann, pottered after Kate, picking daisies in the overgrown lawn. Nell watched them both, her ever-present embroidery in her hand.

  As the afternoon wore on, Kate abandoned her task, dropping down beside the younger woman. She wiped her face on her sleeve and surveyed the overgrown garden. Her poor efforts were a mere drop in a pond compared to the work the garden required, but it satisfied her need to be busy.

  Nell laid down her embroidery hoop and picked up the flowers her daughter had brought her, weaving them into a chain. She placed the chain of flowers like a crown upon Ann's golden curls.

  "Look, Mama! I'm a queen,” Ann declared and turned around on her toes, letting her skirts billow out.

  "And a lovely queen too,” Nell agreed.

  "I'm going to show Tommy."

  Ann had caught sight of her cousin in the company of his newfound friend, young Peter Knowles, son of the tenant of Home Farm, coming out of the stables behind the house. The two women watched as the little figure hurtled across garden towards the boys.

  "Tom is very patient with her.” Nell sighed as they saw Tom stoop to pick up the flowery crown that had toppled from her head.

  "He's used to small cousins. My sister has six children and more to come.” Kate laughed.

  "You're so fortunate to be part of a large family,” Nell remarked wistfully. “Nan and I will miss you sorely. Must you go quite so soon?"

  A strange, unfamiliar feeling gripped Kate. In the month she had spent at Seven Ways she had come to like Nell very much and regretted that they lived so far apart.

  "We must. I'm sorry."

  "I'll miss you,” Nell said, picking up her frame again.

  Kate peered enviously at the fantastic beast that appeared as if magically beneath Nell's needle. “Why do you stitch with wool and not silks?” she asked.

  Nell did not look up. “I can't afford silks, Kate."

  Even after a month, Kate felt she knew as little about this woman as she had on the first day. Nell, although warm and happy to chatter endlessly about domestic matters, seemed very good at keeping the details of her life private.

  "Where is Longley Abbey, Nell?” Kate asked.

  Nell waved a slender hand in a northerly direction. “Two miles yonder, behind the woods. It is firmly in the possession of a poxy Roundhead Colonel by the name of Price.” She flushed. “I do beg your pardon, Kate, I keep forgetting..."

  "That I am a poxy Roundhead too?” Kate laughed. “Nell, I hold no candle for either side. Nell, how can you endure it?"

  Nell shrugged. “I don't allow myself to think of it,” she said. “I live in the misplaced hope that Giles may make his peace with Parliament and come home but as we are...” She stopped as if remembering herself. “He has his reasons not to,” she said quickly.

  "I thought it was hard for us in the north in the early years,” Kate said, “but I had no idea how much harder it must have
been for families like yours."

  Nell's lips tightened. “No,” she said simply. “I don't suppose you would. Now, there is something I have been meaning to say to you all day. You should take better care of your skin. You are going quite brown and freckly. Most unsuitable! I have some excellent cream you may care to try. I make it myself."

  Kate laughed. “Nell, I gave up on myself long ago,” she said. “I just have to look at the sun and I go a most unfashionable brown, and as for my hair ... it simply won't do what it's told. My sister has tried but I'm afraid I'm a disaster."

  "Well, you will never catch another man unless you take better care of yourself,” Nell remarked. “You're really very pretty. You shouldn't stay a widow forever."

  "I've no wish to catch another man!” Kate declared.

  "Why ever not? Has no other man shown an interest in you?"

  Kate felt the heat rise to her face. “I've had suitors,” she said.

  "Were I ever to lose Giles,” Nell said, “which God, in his mercy, will never let happen, I don't think I would stay a widow for long. Although with Giles so long gone, I sometimes wonder if being a widow wouldn't be preferable! At least I would have a chance to improve my lot."

  "Nell!"

  Nell smiled. “Don't sound so shocked, Kate! I adore my husband, but I cannot deny that Nan and I find ourselves in a parlous situation. When Sir Francis dies, who is to say what will happen to us?"

  Kate looked at the house, the red bricks glowing warmly in the afternoon sun.

  "What will happen to Seven Ways when Sir Francis dies?” she asked.

  Nell hesitated for a fraction of a moment. “Besides,” she continued, ignoring the question, “I think a woman needs a husband."

  "I don't need a husband,” Kate said. “Richard and his father left me quite well provided for. I have my sister and her family to keep me company. What more do I need?"

  Nell's mouth pinched in amusement. “Men do have their uses, Kate,” she said, a sudden colour rising to her cheeks.