Civil Conflict

by Oliver, Marina

'Mary?' He looked surprised. 'Mary who?'

  'Mary Ambrose. Tom said you were like to be betrothed to her, and it did seem probable. Also there was – ' She stopped.

  'There was what?'

  'In the barn at Naseby, when you were delirious, you kept calling for Mary. You kept saying you loved her, and – and other things like that.'

  He looked puzzled for a minute, then smiled. 'That would be my sister Mary. She died when we were but children. There is nought between Mary Ambrose and myself, save friendship, the friendship of a long acquaintance.'

  Lysbeth looked up at him in wonder. 'And I thought you did not like me.' She sat up, and this time he did not prevent her. She saw, with no undue surprise, that they were again in a barn. He had obviously carried her to the nearest shelter after her fall. She smiled back at him.

  'I thought you felt I was a nuisance, and a child. Why, James, did you truly say those things to me?'

  He laughed gently and pulled her to him, cradling her head on his chest.

  'I took you for a child when we first met,' he said, 'but after Naseby I realised only too well you were far from a child. I began to care for you very much then.'

  'You did not show it,' she said, puzzled.

  'How could I, when we were in such a precarious situation? I had to guard your reputation as well as my feelings. 'Twas a difficult task to control myself in those days we spent together. Many times I wanted to take you in my arms and tell you how delightful you were, how much I loved you. Did you never realise?'

  She shook her head, and he smiled.

  'I must be a better dissembler than I thought. Do you not know how beautiful you are, how attractive, and how desirable? However much you protested, I would never have allowed you to take the risk of meeting other such men as those who attacked you. Did you not realise it was because of your feminine charms, not because of your youth, that I insisted on accompanying you? You are too attractive to let me risk your travelling alone!'

  He laughed suddenly.

  'What is it?' Lysbeth asked.

  'I was thinking of that heaven-sent opportunity I had to kiss you,' he said, grinning down at her, and she smiled with him.

  'When we were going to the cottage? And you apologised for it!'

  'I shall never apologise again,' he warned her, and she had only time to assure him that he never need do so, before she was wrapped in a close embrace, and was experiencing a kiss very different from any of the ones that had gone before. Breathless, they at last broke apart, and he stared down at her as she lay in his arms. She looked up at him.

  'I can scarce believe 'tis true,' she whispered. 'Oh, my dear beloved!'

  'Do you feel well enough to move? Your horse was not badly hurt, and he is tethered outside. Can you ride?'

  'I feel light as air,' she assured him. 'My head does not ache.' Then her face clouded over. 'But what of the King? James, did you – '

  'Do not worry. The King will take all care. I have assured him that what you said was most likely to be the situation, and I made arrangements for the Scots to be apprehended and Tom warned off. Be not concerned, the King will come to no harm, and Tom will be able to make his escape. I thought then he was your betrothed.'

  'I would still feel badly if I had betrayed him. I think he will take care not to become involved in such plots again. Thank you, James. I know not what I should do without you. You are always assisting me.'

  'As I mean to all my life,' he said, lifting her to her feet. 'There, can you stand?' She nodded, but still he held her in his arms.'There is but one thing that worries me.'

  She looked at him enquiringly.

  'Could you bear to become the wife of a soldier, one who follows a cause that seems to be lost? I cannot offer you security in the present state of the King's cause. Heaven only knows what will come.'

  She looked at him, her eyes shining. 'What matters it, my dearest, if we are together? Come with me now to Witney, and see my aunt and uncle.'

  'Think you they will approve of me?'

  'They could not do aught else,' she answered firmly, and they kissed again for a long time.

  Eventually they made their way out of the barn and over the icy ground to where the horses were standing, where James had hastily tethered them to the overhanging branch of a tree when he had found Lysbeth. Carefully, James lifted Lysbeth on to the saddle and mounted himself, and riding close beside her ready to steady her or catch her should her horse stumble again, they set off slowly over the frozen ground together.

  THE END

  ###

  Marina Oliver has written over 60 novels, and is converting many of them to Ebooks. Others have been or are being published as Ebooks by other publishers. Details of these on my web site are being added to all the time.

  For the latest information please see Marina's web site:

  http://www.marina-oliver.net

  Another of my Civil War novels is now available as an Ebook:

  HIGHLAND DESTINY

  BY MARINA OLIVER

  Chapter 1

  Blanche walked briskly down the hillside despite the fierce heat of the noon sun, swinging her basket and aglow with pleasure at having performed a task well. Smiling, she compared the praises of old Lizzie Smith, from whose tiny cottage she had just come, with the charges of hoydenish behaviour that her governess too often levelled at her. Old Lizzie, once a servant at the Manor, had greatly appreciated her visit, and Blanche, impatient to be thought fully grown, was aware that by encouraging her to perform more of such tasks her mother was recognising her maturity. Lady Emrey had issued many warnings, though, about not straying from the track and returning home immediately, for one never knew when one might be surprised by troops of soldiers, and Blanche had seen enough of the war to realize her mother's fears were not unfounded. In these troubled times it was but common sense to take precautions.

  The track twisted down between high banks, and as Blanche turned the last sharp corner the long, low stone house that was her home appeared before her, basking in the sunshine. Beside the doorway she saw several men surrounding a litter from which someone was being lifted gently and then carried into the house. Fear clutched at Blanche's heart, and after a moment's horrified pause when she recalled in all its vivid detail a similar scene one year earlier, in 1644, when her dead father had been carried home from Marston Moor, she was racing down the last slope, her skirts held high, all thoughts of her new dignity forgotten.

  'Oh God! Please God, let it not be John!' she prayed as she ran, thinking less of her own loss if her adored brother were hurt or killed, but of the devastating blow it would be to her mother, who had been so shocked and ill after the death of her father. If John were gone too her mother would be inconsolable.

  Breathless, Blanche tore under the stone gateway and along the short drive that led between neatly tended flowerbeds to the house. Heedless of the curious stares cast at her, she quickly scanned the faces of the men who stood around, but John was not amongst them. The litter had been removed and its occupant was inside the house. Blanche ran on towards the door, distraught, and the men moved aside to permit her to pass. Just as she reached the wide, low steps her brother appeared at the top, and gasping with relief Blanche flung herself towards him. He caught her to him, hugging her closely while she stammered out her fears.

  'Be calm, child!' he admonished, and turned to thank the men, saying that refreshments were being prepared for them in the kitchens. Nodding, they moved away round the house and John held Blanche away from him, looking down at her gently.

  'I was so terrified!' she explained. 'It was so like when – when father was brought home, and I feared for you!'

  'I am unscathed,' he answered sombrely, 'but there was a disastrous battle and many were hurt. A good friend of mine was sorely wounded and since he could travel no further on his way home to Scotland I brought him here. Now, will you show you are a soldier's daughter and help the maids feed my men? Can you do that after the fright you have received
? I must go to see if there is aught I can do to aid mother in settling Angus.'

  Blanche drew herself away, smiled at him a little tremulously, and nodded, then turned to go into the vast kitchen where two of the maids were hurriedly arranging pies, bread and cheese, and a huge sirloin of beef on the big centre table. Blanche went to collect mugs and set these out, then filled them with ale from a huge blackjack.

  The men, almost a dozen of them, came in and seated themselves, smiling and jesting with the girls although they eyed Blanche herself with some wariness. She was longing to discover what had occurred, and when they appeared to have satisfied their first pangs of hunger she began to ask questions.

  One of the oldest amongst them constituted himself their spokesman.

  ' 'Twere near Market Harborough, Missee,' he said heavily, 'a place called Naseby, I 'eard say. We was outnumbered, an' they devils surrounded us!' He paused, drained his mug, then wiped his hand over his lips. Sighing, he shook his head mournfully. 'It shouldn't ha' been! If only the Prince 'ad come back after the first charge! Or the King brought up the reserve instead o' riding away when they was needed!'

  'Is the King's army beaten utterly?' Blanche asked in dismay.

  ' 'Twould seem so. Aye, all's lost, and we need to save what we can for ourselves!'

  'But who is this man you have brought here?'

  'A Scot, a friend o' Sir John, Missee. 'E were wounded, bad, but 'e would ride northwards until 'e lost too much blood and Sir John persuaded 'im to come 'ere to be tended.'

  'I see. Were many wounded?' Blanche asked fearfully.

  'Too many! Or taken!' another, younger man, put in. 'The Ironsides, damn them to hell, put even the women following the army to the sword! An' the rest are fled. The King'll never get another army now!'

  Gloomily they discussed the disaster, and Blanche listened in growing dismay.

  The King was in dire trouble, it seemed, if his army really had been broken to pieces.

  They were not left long in fruitless discussion. John soon appeared and, with an approving glance at his sister, briskly thanked the men for their help and handed each of them a coin.

  'The King will no doubt be gathering his forces together. I look to seeing you all again soon, when we'll show these New Model men they're not the only ones that can fight!'

  They looked dubious, but with many expressions of thanks to Blanche and the maids, the soldiers gathered up their belongings and departed. John went to see them on their way, and then returned to the kitchen where Blanche was helping to clear away the remnants of the meal.

  'Leave that and come and talk with me,' he said to her. ' 'Tis months since I was home.'

  Eagerly plying him with questions, Blanche accompanied him to a small but sunny parlour.

  'Who is your friend? Should you not be with him?'

  'Mother is caring for him, and will do all that is possible. I fear, though, there is little she can do. He lost a great deal of blood from several wounds.'

  'Poor man,' Blanche said softly. 'He is your friend?'

  'Yes. He is Angus Macdonald, a Scot from the Western Highlands. He came to England with Prince Rupert, for they had fought together as boys in Germany. We have for some time been companions.'

  They remained silent for a time, then, making an effort to shake off his melancholy, John began asking Blanche questions about her own doings, and what had been happening at home during the months he had been away. Proudly she related all the work she had been doing, saying that now her mother relied on her a great deal. John smiled, thinking how lovely she looked when animated, her huge dark eyes sparkling and her black, unruly curls tumbling about her piquant face. Though only just fourteen Blanche was already a beauty, and as she matured she would be very desirable. But what would be her future in this uncertain world, he wondered bleakly. The man she had been promised to several years earlier had died shortly before their own father, and he, now her guardian, had been too preoccupied with the fighting to make any other arrangements for her. He must now consider it, he realised, and ask his mother whether she had any suitable man in mind.

  Blanche's pleasure in her brother's company was scarcely dimmed by the knowledge that a man lay upstairs desperately ill, for she was permitted no part in the nursing of him. For two days he clung to life but then, having recovered consciousness for a few hours, he quietly died. John had been with him for these last lucid hours, but when it was all over he came out of the bedroom carrying a heavy jewelled sword, and shut himself away in the room where his father had dealt with the business of the estate.

  *