‘So he says. It is his brother, Kit Lovell, who was Sir Jonathan’s friend.’
A smile lifted Nell’s face. ‘Oh, of course, Kit Lovell. I remember him. If I had not been so besotted with Giles, I could have fallen in love with Kit. He was half-French, I recall, with all the charm of Frenchman.’ She frowned. ‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’
‘I believe he was hanged a few years ago for some part in a plot to kill Cromwell.’
Nell nodded. ‘Oh yes, I remember Jon reading about it in a London newssheet. But what about this brother, Daniel?’
The child she held had grown heavy, her head lolling against Agnes’s shoulder. ‘I think someone is ready for bed,’ she said, handing the drowsy child to the nursemaid.
‘You too, Master Richard,’ the nursemaid said.
The boy stuck out his lower lip. ‘But I want to play wiv Charles,’ he said.
‘Charles is going to bed too. Kiss Mama,’ Nell said, rising to her feet. She stooped and the boy threw his arms around his mother’s neck, planting a large, sloppy kiss on her cheek.
Agnes’s heart broke just a little more.
‘They are such a joy for Kate and I,’ Nell said, a fond smile on her lips as the door to the bedchamber closed. ‘Come, Agnes. It is time for supper.’
As they left the room, Nell slipped her arm into Agnes’s. ‘Now tell me, Agnes. You and the handsome Daniel Lovell. Is it true, are you just friends?
‘Hardly even that,’ Agnes responded a little too quickly. ‘Is he handsome?’
Nell’s mouth quirked. ‘Oh yes, he has some of the look of his brother, but rather less … French. I warrant that out of the sick bed, he is a fine-looking man.’
Agnes swallowed. ‘I am no judge of these matters,’ she mumbled. ‘I know very little about him.’
Nell frowned. ‘So, how do you come to be in his company?”
How strange it would sound to this woman if Agnes were to even try to explain that her relationship to Daniel came only from a mutual acquaintance with a man they both hated!
‘As I told you last night, I was abandoned in London without the means to support myself and Daniel came to my aid.’
‘A knight errant,’ Nell held up her hand. ‘But I won’t ask anything more of you. I have learned that in this day and age it is best not to know too much.’
They had reached the door to the dining chamber and Nell pushed it open. The rest of the family was already seated. Agnes slipped into her now-familiar place at the Thornton table, and after answering Kate’s question about how Daniel fared that evening, she let the family gossip wash around her.
***
In a well-cushioned chair, a table beside him on which had been placed a jug of small ale and a plate with two late season apples, and a London newssheet lying unregarded on his lap, Daniel stared into the cheerful fire crackling on the hearth.
It occurred to him since meeting Agnes – since coming to this house – something in his universe had shifted and he could describe it in one single word: kindness.
The years of exile had been wasted years and had left him at the age of twenty-eight with only the prospect of a long and lonely life. There had been no room in his life in recent years for sentiment or charity. His had been a hand-to-mouth existence, lived among hard men with a brutal job. When he had sought relief from life aboard a privateer it had been in the arms of the whores of Fort Royal. When he had been stricken with the fever it had been the rough tending of his shipmates that had nursed him back to health.
He looked around the pleasant room, redolent with the scents of beeswax polish and lavender. A fitful late autumn sun spilled in through the diamond panes of the window, bringing back memories of happier times at Eveleigh, a house of a similar age and history to this one.
He wondered now how real those memories were. It seemed he had lived his whole life in the shadow of conflict, but there must have been a time before the war when they had lived as a family at Eveleigh. He recalled games of hide and seek with Kit – on the occasions Kit had been at home. Being ten years older, there had been school and Oxford and other distractions for a young man, but when he had been at Eveleigh there had always been time for romping with his younger brother and sister.
But it was more than just the kindness of the strangers who had taken him in. There was Agnes – that perplexing little woman who had sat beside him as he tossed in fever. He remembered more than she probably realised, but most particularly the touch of her hands as she had cooled his body. No one had touched him like that, with such … he struggled to find the word … intimacy? Yet it had not been about carnal desire. Her touch had come with – again, that word – kindness.
Or was there more than that?
He’d never been in love. Even with Jennet Pritchard, who had made no secret of her feelings for him. He had liked Jennet enough to have contemplated a life with her but love … ? No, not love. If he had married Jennet it would have been for one reason only – an escape from servitude. She knew that, she understood. She had told him love could come later.
But it had been death that took her away and plunged him into Hell.
A rap on the door startled him out of his reverie and he straightened in his chair as Sir Jonathan entered the room, ducking his head to avoid one of the low beams of the ceiling. He had aged in the years since Worcester, the dark hair now streaked with silver and lines etched around his mouth and eyes.
‘Good to see you up,’ Thornton said. ‘May I join you?’
‘Of course,’ Daniel waved a hand at a second chair.
Thornton sat down and stretched out his long legs, crossing his feet at the ankles. ‘Agnes says you have a letter for me, from Giles.’
Daniel rose unsteadily to his feet and retrieved the letter from his bag. As he resumed his seat, Jonathan broke the seal and scanned the contents, his face grave. He crumpled it in one hand and tossed it on the fire where it sparked and glowed before bursting into bright flame.’
Thank you for bringing me news from the court,’ he said. ‘England balances on a fine wire at the moment.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The restoration of the King seems inevitable, but yet there is still so much to do to accomplish it. Foolish ventures such as that which saw Agnes’s brother in law lose his head do not help.’ He glanced at the fire as the letter dissolved in ashes and fell into the hearth. ‘The time for the sword is past. Old soldiers like Giles and I can be of little use in the months to come. We must put our trust in politicians.’
Sir Jonathan lifted his right hand to smooth back the hair from his forehead, the cuff of his shirt falling away to reveal a circlet of whitened scars around his wrist. Daniel caught his breath. The marks were unmistakable. He had seen them too many times before. He bore them on his own wrists.
‘Manacles,’ Daniel said aloud.
Jonathan rubbed his wrists as if he still felt the weight of the irons. ‘You are quite right. I barely survived incarceration in the Tower of London in the months after Worcester.’ He sighed. ‘I’ve seen the scars you bear, Lovell. Do you wish to tell me about it?’
Daniel shook his head and looked away. ‘The man who did it is dead.’
‘Did you kill him?’
‘No. I would have done, without hesitation, but I heard that they hanged him in Holetown for his crimes. Justice was served.’
Thornton studied him with a knowing gaze.
‘As you say,’ Thornton said at length. ‘Justice was served. Now, tell me about your time at the exiled court. What did they ask of you?’
Daniel looked up. ‘What do you mean?’
‘When you went to the court in Bruges, they would have asked something of you, I am sure.’
Daniel shook his head. ‘I made it clear that I have no interest in their games. I have given eight years of my life for the decision to follow Kit into battle that day, Sir Jonathan. I have nothing more to give.’ He paused. ‘Did Lord Longley say something in his letter to you?’<
br />
Thornton stood up and walked across to the window. He stood for a long time in silence, his hands behind his back, before turning to face Daniel again.
‘They want money.’ Thornton huffed a humourless laugh. ‘Giles knows full well they’ll get nothing from me. It is as much as Kate and I can do to hold this estate together and provide for our family and our tenants from year to year.’ He returned to his chair, leaning forward and gazing into the fire, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped. ‘The fines levied on us have been crippling, Lovell, but we have managed and now it begins again. I have nothing to spare for the King’s coffers and nothing to give of myself.’ He looked across at Daniel. ‘Even if it were wanted, I gave my oath as a gentleman never to raise my sword against the Commonwealth. Much as that decision galled me, I gave it gladly. It ensured me home and hearth and contentment.’
Daniel frowned. ‘And that is enough?’
Thornton returned his gaze to the fire and a rueful smile lifted his countenance. ‘Between us, Lovell, there are days when the beat of the drums echoes in my blood, but the only thing of value I have left is my honour and I will not break my oath and take up arms again.’ He straightened. ‘I can tell you, Lovell, because I know you understand. I for one have no desire to return to the Tower of London. In the meantime I have plenty to occupy me in keeping this estate running and ensuring my tenants are fed, housed, and clothed, let alone my own family. My stepson, Thomas Ashley, will inherit the estate when he is twenty-one and I wish to ensure he has something worth inheriting; not the rundown, impoverished estate I found when I returned home.’
‘Why would your stepson inherit it?’ Daniel asked.
Jonathan shot him a quick sidelong glance. ‘A decision of my grandfather, forced on him by my own recklessness. On his death, were I to have inherited, the estate would have been immediately forfeit. This way it stayed intact.’
‘But if the King returns … ’
Thornton waved a hand. ‘Thomas is nearly eighteen, and he has his own father’s lands in Yorkshire. I would hope he will allow Kate and I to live out our lives here, but that is something we will discuss in the future. What about you?’
Daniel stared into the fire for a long moment.
‘I went to Bruges seeking news of my brother,’ he said at last. ‘To be honest I had not thought he survived Worcester, but Lord Longley said he had been hanged for his involvement in a plot to kill Cromwell.’ He looked up. ‘Do you know anything about it?’
Thornton straightened slightly and shook his head. ‘I know only what I read in the London newssheets. What I can tell you is that Kit was badly wounded at Worcester. I saw him fall. He had taken a pistol ball in his leg but you know how it was that day … ’ He trailed off and both men stared at the fire, reliving the horror of 3 September 1651. ‘He wouldn’t have escaped unaided and I can only assume he was taken prisoner. But it seems, unlike you, he did get away and lived long enough to get himself embroiled in the foolish plots of ‘54. By all accounts they hanged him in the Tower of London.’
Daniel sensed an unspoken “but” in Thornton’s words. He narrowed his eyes. ‘You heard otherwise?’
Thornton shrugged. ‘No … yes … foolish, unsubstantiated rumours that I give no credence to. But you knew your brother better than I.’
Daniel shook his head. ‘I’m not sure I did. They intimated that Kit had turned coat. That he was a traitor, a spy set by the Commonwealth and that the plot was betrayed by him.’ The knife twisted in Daniel’s heart. ‘If that is true I don’t understand why he would have turned traitor. Kit would never … ’
Thornton looked up sharply. ‘Don’t be so swift to judge, Lovell. Someone betrayed the plotters. Three good men died on the gibbet as well as Kit. The traitor in their midst may have been Kit or anyone else.’
Daniel swallowed. ‘But Kit? Kit was a king’s man to the bone.’
Thornton cleared his throat. ‘There was a man, Cromwell’s Secretary of State, John Thurloe. He had organised a system of spies and agents that Queen Bess’s Walsingham could only have dreamed of. I would wager a bag of gold that half the men surrounding Charles are in the pay of the government. Nothing happens in the exiled court without Thurloe, or whoever it is who has replaced him, knowing about it. If Thurloe had an interest in your brother, he could be very persuasive.’
Something in the man’s tone made Daniel look up. ‘You met him?’
‘Oh yes.’ Thornton held up his hands, allowing the cuffs to fall away from his scarred wrists. ‘I carry these as a permanent reminder of Master Thurloe. He thought to turn me to his employ.’
‘But you didn’t turn.’
Jonathan shook his head. ‘No, but between us, it would have been very easy to have agreed to whatever he had to offer. Freedom for the price of court gossip? Don’t think too poorly of your brother, if indeed he fell into Thurloe’s hands. The choice, when it was offered to him, may not have been a choice.’
Daniel’s fingers tightened on the arms of the chair. ‘If he was responsible for the deaths of those three men, Sir Jonathan, I am not sure I could forgive him that, whatever the reasons.’
Jonathan’s level gaze met his and held it for a long moment before he said, ‘You are swift to judge, Daniel, but you may never know. Kit is dead, God rest him.’ He smiled fondly. ‘He was always trouble. What of the rest of your family?’
‘I don’t know. I left my mother and sister at Eveleigh. My grandfather was old and ailing when I left home, so I imagine he is long gone. With Kit dead, I am probably Lord Midhurst.’
Thornton smiled. ‘Do I offer you my congratulations or my commiserations … my Lord?’
Daniel shook his head. ‘Neither. I can make no claim on the estate while I remain outside the law.’
At this the older man raised his eyebrows. ‘And are you outside the law?’
Daniel laughed. ‘Very much so. I escaped from my sentence in Barbados and I have had a profitable few years on a French privateer.’
Jonathan Thornton nodded, a smile touching his mouth. ‘You are indeed an outlaw, my friend. But what of your plans? Why come back to England now when you could have just sat quietly with the Court in Bruges and bided your time?’
Daniel hesitated for a long moment before he replied. ‘I have unfinished business of my own.’
Thornton shook his head. ‘We all have unfinished business, Lovell, but there comes a time when we have to let the past lie.’
Daniel turned his gaze to the fire, watching the flames catch a twig with a leaf, sending it flying up the chimney. ‘I witnessed my father murdered in cold blood. He had surrendered Eveleigh and yet Ashby ordered him shot on the steps of his own home.’
Thornton frowned. ‘Ashby? Is that the same Ashby Agnes told us about?’
Daniel nodded and Thornton shook his head. ‘So that’s what binds you and Mistress Fletcher. Does she know you are seeking revenge on this man?’
Daniel swallowed. ‘I’ve tried to be honest with Agnes. I’ve told her as much as she needs to know. Our interests align. If she wants the children returned to her keeping then only Ashby’s death will accomplish that.’
Thornton’s lips tightened and he frowned. ‘Revenge is a dangerous master, Lovell. If there is to be a reckoning, for both of you, the time is coming with the return of the King. You must be patient.’
Daniel shook his head. ‘No … the King is preaching forgiveness and I can never forgive Tobias Ashby. It’s all I have. It’s all that has driven me for the last few years. It’s what sent me to Worcester.’
‘And Agnes is your entry into Charvaley?’
Daniel nodded. ‘There is more to this than just my personal feelings, Sir Jonathan. You were right at the start, I do have a commission from the King – to find the gold James Ashby hid before he was taken.’
Thornton raised an eyebrow. ‘Gold?’
Daniel met the man’s eyes. ‘Gold Unites. Elmhurst waylaid it on the way north and it was intended to be used
to finance the uprisings of July that never happened. It’s hidden somewhere in Charvaley and only Elmhurst knew where.’
‘He told no one before he died?’
‘I don’t believe so. I am hazarding a guess that is why his cousin was so anxious to return the children to Charvaley. He too is looking for the gold.’
Thornton leaned forward, a frown puckering his forehead, but if he had been about to ask a question he got no further. They were interrupted by a hurried knock and Ellen bearing a lunch tray.
Rising to his feet, Thornton said, ‘Whatever your plans, Lovell, you are welcome to rest here and regain your strength. We will talk later.’
With that he turned and strode from the room, leaving Daniel to the mercy of Ellen.
Chapter 8
Seven Ways, Worcestershire
20 November 1659
The horse fidgeted, shaking its head with a jingle of bridle. Its rider sighed. He had been watching the red brick house for too long. He was cold and his horse sensed that a warm stable and food lay within its reach.
He had never been a coward, had always faced whatever life threw at him — even death — but now he felt fear clutching at his heart as it had never done before.
A hundred questions crowded his mind, deafening him from one big question. What if the note had been wrong?
The horse shifted its feet, its ears swivelling.
‘You’re right,’ the man said aloud. ‘If nothing else I get to see an old friend, although what in God’s name I am to say to him … ’
He straightened in the saddle and kicked the beast forward.
As he rode into the courtyard and looked up at the red walls and mullioned windows, he tried to recall if he had been here before. It seemed familiar, but those harum-scarum days of the war had begun to merge and blend.
Leaving the horse with a groom, he asked to see Sir Jonathan Thornton but refused to give his name. The elderly steward seemed to take this lack of courtesy in his stride and showed him into a room that may have once been a parlour, but the chill in the air indicated that it was now only be used for suspicious visitors.
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