She took the seat he indicated as the maid scuttled away for glasses and a bottle of the house's best Rhennish.
"Take that look off your face, Kate.” Jonathan lowered his voice. “I assure you I'm quite real enough."
"How did you come to be here?” Kate found her voice at last.
He shrugged nonchalantly. “I'm travelling in the same direction as you."
"Then how is it we have not seen you on the road?” Kate challenged.
"I passed you when Tom's horse cast a shoe this morning and you were at the blacksmith's. I thought of stopping then but I had to see someone this afternoon. Judging by the state of the roads I hazarded a guess that this would be your stopping place for the night."
"So who is John Miller?” Kate settled back with the welcome glass of wine in her hand.
"John Miller is a bookseller from London, travelling to York to purchase a rare volume of Spenser."
"He's obviously an old friend,” Kate observed.
"A very old friend.” Jonathan smiled. “Ah, I see the landlord with dinner. Come and dine, Kate, you must be famished."
They sat in silence as their supper was served.
"I have a favour to ask of you,” Jonathan said as soon as they were alone again.
Kate paused in cutting her meat and looked up at him suspiciously. “A favour?"
"As you may have noticed the roads are busy with troops."
Kate nodded. They had been passed several times by red-coated soldiers heading northwards.
"A man travelling alone is instantly suspect, no matter how good his papers. A man travelling with a woman and child excites less interest. Would you object to my riding with you as far as York?"
Kate looked up at him. Obviously mistaking her hesitancy for reluctance, he caught her hand.
"I wouldn't ask if I thought it would bring danger to you. I assure you my papers are quite in order and my reasons for my journey quite plausible."
Kate looked down, feeling the warmth of his hand on hers and wondering why it stirred something deep within her, a forgotten memory of a man's touch on her skin. Propriety demanded she resist his entreaty but curiosity about this man overcame her scruples. If she were honest with herself, the thought of his company for the few days they had left on their journey intrigued her. She withdrew her hand, looked up at him and smiled.
"I've no objection, and Tom would relish your company. He has had enough of mine for the last few days!"
"Good!” Jonathan sat back. “It's settled. Your cousin, John Miller, will join you tomorrow.” He frowned. “Can your servants be trusted? They both know who I am."
Kate stiffened. “Ellen and Dickon are absolutely trustworthy,” she said. “Ellen has been with me since I was a girl. Dickon's her nephew.” A moment of doubt nagged at her. “How much is your head worth?"
"Enough to keep the likes of Dickon in comfort for a year or too,” Jonathan said.
"Well, if you want to travel with us, you will have no choice but to trust them,” Kate observed.
"I know.” Jonathan sat back and looked into his wine glass. “So, home to Barton, Mistress Ashley, home to peace and quiet, away from the Thorntons and their terrible impositions.” His eyes laughed at her across the top of his glass.
"For the moment anyway,” Kate said, conscious that his words reflected much of her own thoughts over the last few days.
The further she travelled from Seven Ways, the angrier and more resentful she became. How dare Sir Francis think to impose this burden on her shoulders at a time when the Thornton fortunes were at their lowest. In the good times there had been no generosity of spirit to his abandoned daughter and her family to warrant any magnanimity on her part. She could, she had reflected several times, snap her fingers at the whole shipload of Thorntons and leave them to drown in the tempest of their own choosing.
She could—if it were not for one thing. She liked them.
Sir Francis’ days were numbered but what would happen to the tenantry and to Nell and little Ann if she, Kate, were to desert them? Could she, in all conscience, drive them from the lovely, rose-coloured house to face an uncertain future dependent on the charity of friends and relatives even worse off than they?
"What will I do, Jonathan?” She looked up at him as if expecting him to have read her thoughts.
For a moment their eyes met and she knew he understood exactly what she had been thinking.
He shook his head. “Oh, my dear Kate Ashley, I can't answer that question. Pray that Grandfather decides not to die or...” His voice was grim. “...that The King will prevail in the coming conflict."
She sat in glum silence for a moment. “I will just have to pin my hopes on the King,” she said at last.
Jonathan shook his head. “I wish to God that I could,” he said quietly. “Kate?” He caught the yawn that Kate tried to stifle. “You're exhausted. Might I suggest you retire? We have another long, damp ride again tomorrow."
Kate pulled a face and reluctantly stood to leave.
"I will excuse myself,” she said. “Good night, John Miller."
Jonathan rose and his eyes smiled at her again as he inclined his head. “Good night, Mistress Ashley. Thank you for your company."
Thomas slept curled up in the bed with a beatific smile on his face. Ellen dozed by the fire, waiting for Kate. She started up when Kate closed the door and made Kate sit on the stood while she unpinned her hair.
"So, who was your mysterious Master Miller?” Ellen asked.
"Jonathan Thornton,” Kate replied.
Ellen's hand paused in the brushing. “Not that ‘un! Now what mischief is he playing at?"
"He'll be travelling with us to York, Ellen, in the guise of my cousin John Miller, a bookseller from London,” Kate said.
"Will he now?” Ellen's lips pursed.
"Don't give me that look.” Kate knew her maid well. “There is naught but the need for company and the need for secrecy."
Ellen finished brushing Kate's hair. “His secret's safe enough with Dickon and me,” she said. “You've my word on that, mistress. It's more a question of whether we'll be safe with ‘im. Seems to me that he's trouble, that lad."
"We'll be fine, Ellen. Anyway,” she added brightly, “it will be good to have a man travelling with us. Much safer."
"If you say so,” Ellen remarked.
* * * *
As Kate had predicted, Tom was delighted to see his cousin and thrilled with the subterfuge involved. As they gathered in the inn courtyard early the next morning, Jonathan cast a disapproving eye over the boy's pony.
"No wonder your progress is so slow,” he commented.
Kate stiffened. “Holly has done very well,” she said. “You forget Tom is only nine and I'm loath to let him have a larger horse."
Jonathan exchanged a deeply sympathetic look with his young cousin. His own grey mare, Amber, nudged him affectionately and he gave her a piece of carrot, before swinging easily into the saddle.
"Would booksellers normally ride quite so obvious a horse?” Kate inquired once they were on the road.
"They would if they liked horses,” Jonathan said and gave his handsome mare a pat on the flank.
"Where did you get her?” Kate asked.
He smiled at her. “I won her at cards if you really want to know."
"Is cards one of your vices?"
"Not generally. I lack Giles’ ability to cheat convincingly,” he replied. “My vices are love of good horses, good wine and attractive women."
"So I hear.” Kate recalled her conversations with Nell.
He gave her a sideways glance. “You shouldn't believe all you hear about me."
Kate turned her own level gaze on him. “I don't. I prefer to make my own judgments about people."
"And what have you concluded about me?” he asked teasingly.
She blushed slightly and fixed her gaze on the road ahead. “I don't think that you fit the description of the Jonathan Thornton of family l
egend. I don't see the scapegrace grandson in you."
"Maybe not. There are things about me even my family do not know,” he commented but did not elaborate. “And what about you, Mistress Ashley? What sort of person are you?"
"You tell me,” she challenged him.
He looked at her thoughtfully. “It seems to me that either there is a lot of Puritan in you or you have forgotten what it is to have fun. You have a tendency, Mistress Ashley, to view life far too seriously."
Kate laughed. “Maybe a little bit of both. My mother came from Puritan stock, and as I was left a widow with a son at the age of twenty with the responsibility of running an estate, it is most probable that I have forgotten what it is to have fun."
Before he could respond, Tom came barrelling up between them. He pointed up the road. “What's that?"
Kate paled, recognizing the silhouette against the grey sky. “A gibbet,” she said quietly.
As they drew abreast, they could see the decomposing remains of a man, swinging from the hastily constructed scaffold that stood at the crossroads. A crudely painted sign hung from the man's neck. Kate looked away, pressing her gloved hand to her nose while Tom stared with ghoulish fascination.
"What does the sign say, Jonathan?” Tom asked.
"Murder, rapine and brigandry,” Jonathan read. “I would say this man was a footpad."
Even though they had ridden past, the sickly smell of the decomposing remains seemed to cling to them.
"Well, I hope he serves as a warning to those who would follow,” Kate said with a cough.
Jonathan looked at her. “Sadly, the country is rife with such brigands. The legacy of war, Kate. Men with no homes to return to or men who think a better living is to be made on the roads.” He paused and dropped his voice so she alone could hear him. “In a way I'm only one step removed from them."
"At least you're not a danger to innocent travellers,” Kate replied.
He looked at her. “Who is to say I'm not? Believe me, Kate, if a man is hungry and desperate enough—” He left the sentence unfinished.
Kate looked at him in shock. She couldn't tell if he was teasing her or if Jonathan Thornton had, in fact, resorted to such methods for his own survival. He caught her eye, shrugged and smiled enigmatically.
* * * *
The following day the sun broke through the grey clouds and everyone's spirits lifted. Despite the state of the road, with good weather they would make York on the morrow. They had been on the road for barely an hour when the jink of harness and the sound of a large body of horsemen came from behind them.
Kate twisted in her saddle and saw to her horror a troop of soldiers riding hard towards them. She looked anxiously at the man who rode beside her.
"Jonathan!"
"There is nothing to fear, Kate. Just let them pass,” Jonathan said with calm confidence in his voice.
"Make way there,” the officer at the front shouted, and the travellers pressed back against the hedge to let the soldiers pass.
The officer reined in beside them. His eyes flicked across the small party. “Where are you bound?"
"York,” Jonathan said. “My cousin has been visiting with my mother, and as I've business in York I'm accompanying her."
"Papers?” The man demanded.
Obediently Kate produced her papers and Jonathan fished his out from inside his jacket. The officer scanned them quickly.
"There seems a great many soldiers travelling north,” Jonathan remarked as the officer returned the papers.
"Scotland,” the man replied. “Word is Charles Stuart has landed there."
"Really?” Jonathan raised an eyebrow and shook his head in mock horror. “So Fairfax is going to invade Scotland?"
"Nay, Fairfax would have no part of it. He's resigned command. Old Noll is now Commander-in-Chief,” the soldier replied.
Jonathan's face betrayed nothing. “Well, my friend,” he said, “God willing, you will deal swiftly with the scurvy Scots and their so-called King."
The man nodded and, with a quick bow to Kate, turned his horse's head and rode off to catch up with his men.
"Don't look like that, Kate,” Jonathan reproved. “You have a face like a book and if I'm to be betrayed it will be your doing not mine."
"How can you lie like that?” Kate breathed.
"Years of practice.” Jonathan sounded terse and she suspected he was cross with her.
They rode in silence for the rest of the morning and by lunchtime they reached the little town of Selby. It was market day and a fair of sorts had been set up on the outskirts of the town. The fairs Kate had known as a child had been filled with music and dancing, jugglers and cock fighting but these were all banned by the new regime.
However, the temptation to while away a couple of hours proved too great and Kate called an end to the day's travels. She gave Ellen some money and an order to watch Tom like a hawk and stood gazing fondly at the pair as the boy headed off into the crowd with Ellen scuttling behind him.
Jonathan turned to her and offered her his arm. “Mistress Ashley?"
"I'm sorry if I didn't play the game properly this morning,” she said as she took the proffered arm.
He smiled at her. “I suppose it must seem a game to you, Kate, but it's a very dangerous game with a hangman's noose at the end if I forget the rules. Contrary to what you might think, I gained considerable information from our encounter with the Roundhead. I now know the high command is divided. Scotland will be invaded and Cromwell is taking his best troops with him."
Kate shivered and looked up at the spire of the church.
"It will be a hard fight?"
Jonathan nodded. “And Cromwell is taking it to us. My only consolation is that Scotland is such a God-forsaken place, his English troops may well tire of it, before the Scots capitulate."
"Let's not talk of war anymore!” Kate forced a lightness she didn't feel into her voice.
They strolled amongst the stalls until Kate's eye was drawn to one selling bolts of material. She turned over the cloth with the expert eye of a clothier's daughter. The quality was good and she needed a new gown. She hesitated between a grey and a russet.
Behind her Jonathan sighed. “No, Kate. Those colours make you look like a Puritan goodwife. Why not this? It will suit you much better."
He drew a bolt of sky blue cloth from the table.
"Now have you any lawn?” he asked of the merchant before Kate could protest.
The merchant produced a small bolt of the fine, white linen and Kate meekly concluded the transaction.
Her new purchases parcelled up and handed over to Jonathan for carriage, Kate felt slightly peeved. She could not decide if it was because she resented his interference or because he was right—she did look like a Puritan goodwife.
Jonathan stopped at a stall selling lace and with the deliberation of a cook selecting the finest apples, pulled a pretty, narrow needlepoint from the pile.
"This will do for edging the collar and cuffs,” he said.
Recognizing defeat, Kate reached for her coins, but he laid a hand over hers.
"No, this will be my present for you,” he said. “A gift for allowing me the pleasure of your company over the last two days."
"You can't afford it,” she blurted out, without thinking.
He dismissed her protests with a wave of his hand and handed her the parcel with a mock bow.
Kate thanked him graciously, aware of the sacrifice the present entailed. It would probably mean an enormous difference to his lodgings in Scotland, unless of course he turned to a little highway robbery on his way north to supplement his income.
"I think it's time to find Tom,” she said, looking around the crowded market.
"I think I see him over yonder. He's admiring pigs,” Jonathan said.
Kate turned in the direction he indicated and in doing so collided with another woman, causing them both to drop their parcels. She apologized profusely and stooped to retrieve the p
ackages. As she stood she found herself looking into the face of Lady Anne Fairfax, wife of the now retired General, whose home at Nun Appleton was only a few miles from Selby.
"Oh, my lady,” she said sinking into a curtsy, “I do apologize. I didn't recognize you."
Lady Anne Fairfax smiled. She had a square, plain face but surprisingly lovely eyes, inherited by her daughter Mary, an awkward girl of about fourteen who accompanied her mother.
"Katherine Ashley, isn't it?” Lady Fairfax said.
"You remember me, my lady? It was many years ago."
"Of course I remember you, Mistress Ashley. Your little boy must be quite grown now."
Kate cast a glance in Tom's direction. He still seemed enamoured of the pigs.
"The General and I were sorry to hear of the recent death of David Ashley. He was a good man. Thomas thought highly of him, and your husband of course."
Kate thanked her but the gaze of the other woman's gaze had moved to the tall figure standing behind Kate. Kate took a breath, forced a smile and introduced Jonathan as her cousin John Miller from London.
Jonathan bowed. “My lady,” he said, bestowing a charming smile on the General's wife. “I have long admired your husband."
Lady Anne beamed. The subject of her husband apparently brought her a great deal of pleasure.
"Thank you, Master Miller,” she said. “Now he has retired from service I shall look forward to somewhat more of his company than I have been used to in the past years. Certainly the roses will benefit from his attention."
The two women chatted politely about gardens and the price of cloth before excusing themselves.
Away from earshot Jonathan remarked, “You seemed on remarkably familiar terms?"
Kate smiled. “I told you, Lady Fairfax once passed a few nights at Barton. She followed the troops for the first few years of the war."
"A formidable lady! Little wonder it is rumoured that she wears the breeches."
Kate shrugged. “She is a woman with strong opinions and I have no doubt that Sir Thomas would think it prudent to listen to her counsel when the occasion warrants it!"
Jonathan smiled at her. “Well, Mistress Ashley, as I would like to be in York by tomorrow night, perhaps we should retrieve your son from the pigs and be away."
By The Sword Page 6