Chapter Three
Chapter Four D uring her first days at Saxton Court, Catherine’s strong young body recovered from the journey from The Hague. The recovery of her spirits and acceptance of her situation would take longer. She was calm, doing her best to fight her way back to reality, the reality of the loss of her home and Harry—both of which no longer existed in her world. Yet common sense and a hard-headed practicality came to her aid. For better or for worse Marcus Reresby was her husband, Saxton Court her home, and she was the mistress of a vast estate where she would have many duties and social obligations to perform. Without realising it she slipped into the daily rhythm of her new life, and it wasn’t long before the servants began to hold her in the same affection and respect as they did her husband. Saxton Court stood in an isolated corner of Somerset, lying between the Quantock and Blackdown Hills. It was a fertile area of small fields, rich pastures, grazing sheep and cattle and cider orchard
Chapter Four
Chapter Five A fter saying goodnight to their guests, when Marcus went to speak to Mr Fenton about an estate matter, Catherine escaped to her chamber. In a state of jarring tension, with a feeling of dread she waited for the inevitable moment when Marcus would seek her out. She didn’t have long to wait. He entered without knocking and closed the door behind him with an ominous thud. She turned, seeing the explosion of her husband in her room. The room, which had been calm, with Catherine seated at her dressing table brushing out her hair, and Alice and a young maid turning down the bed, was suddenly alive with Marcus’s handsome, virile presence. ‘Perhaps I am mistaken, Marcus, but I did not hear you knock,’ Catherine rebuked with a hard note in her clear voice. Her tone suggested he had committed a grave error. His mouth tightened. ‘Possibly because I didn’t knock.’ ‘Your visit is inconvenient. I am tired and wish to prepare for bed.’ ‘Then don’t let me stop you,’ he said shortly. He g
Chapter Five
Chapter Six C atherine emerged from the wood into a small clearing. The open ground was filled with silent people, men, women and children milling in panic. The faces were stamped with expressions ranging from fear and shock to outright anger. She paused for a moment, assessing the event. A chill raced down her spine. The wretched figure of a man was being dragged moaning and stumbling towards the trunk of a stout tree. His hands had been forced behind his back and tied. Fiercely excited, yapping hounds circled him, and the gaping wounds on his legs told Catherine that they had already had their taste of blood. ‘Mercy! Don’t kill me!’ the man cried out, his eyes darting about in terror. A woman ran out from the crowd and threw herself at Fenton’s feet in desperation. ‘Let him go! He is my father. For the love of God, let him go!’ she pleaded tearfully. Fenton’s eyes were merciless as he watched one of his henchmen, a brutal-faced man with a whip in his hand, roughly push her aside. Los
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven L eaving the half dozen men he had with him to partake of rest and what refreshment Saxton Court had to offer, Marcus set off for Burton Grange for an audience with George Stanhope. As deputy Lieutenant of the county’s militia, if Fenton had been actively involved in aiding Monmouth and was guilty of gross misconduct towards the workers at Saxton Court, George would know about it. ‘We’ve had our eyes on Fenton for a while, Marcus,’ George informed him gravely. ‘I tend to agree with Elizabeth, that coming into your father’s service was a guise that helped to lead suspicion away from him. I have evidence that he has been assisting John Trenchard in drawing a large number of West Country men into Monmouth’s faction for some time. He hasn’t taken up arms himself—whether he will or not remains to be seen, but I will tell you now that he is a marked man.’ ‘I understand that Trenchard left the country before Monmouth landed.’ ‘He did. Like yourself, Marcus, I have known John Tre
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight M onmouth’s army of ill-assorted troops was worryingly short of experienced soldiers. At Bridgwater, ten miles north of Taunton, he was received even more enthusiastically than at Taunton, and by the time his troops left, they were boasting that, within a week, King James would have been ousted and James Scott, Duke of Monmouth, would be enthroned. They could afford to boast for now. So far they had only been tested by county militia of doubtful allegiance, but the regular army, arriving in the western counties in significant numbers, was drawing closer each day, outnumbering the rebels. There was no organisation in the rebel army, and the weapons and armour Monmouth had brought from Holland were never distributed. Also, there were hardly any officers. Lord John Churchill, originally the commander of the King’s forces sent to combat Monmouth’s rebellion, had been superseded in command by the Earl of Feversham. With twenty-five years of loyal service behind him, the King t
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine I ntending to go and see Harry Stapleton, and in no mood to be charitable or accommodating, Marcus paused on the terrace, putting off the moment, and stared into the darkness beyond, deeply affected by his conversation with his wife. The thought of having to deny her was becoming a growing torment. He knew that for her sake he must try to do what he could to save Stapleton’s life, for there would never be any happiness between them if he refused her this. A familiar ache appeared to strike at his heart. He didn’t want to lose Catherine, so what was to be done? Maybe she was right. He had inadvertently destroyed Harry Stapleton’s future and perhaps it was time to make amends for the wrongs he had done. His lips twisted in a cynical smile. Amends! Hadn’t that something to do with a repentant conscience—a conscience which was becoming a great deal more inconvenient than he would ever have thought possible? The shadowy outline of a tall man clad in a long cloak and standing, f
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten I n no mood for company, Marcus was about to turn away as the heavy coach lumbered up the drive. However, when it came to a halt, he was pleasantly surprised when Roger emerged. ‘Roger! I thought you were still in London. Is Elizabeth with you?’ ‘No. She’s content to remain in London while all this upheaval is going on.’ ‘You’re right, it’s the best place for her at this time. She is well, I hope?’ ‘Aye, she is, and the children. I’m relieved that you survived Sedgemoor, Marcus. We heard about it in London—dreadful business.’ Marcus nodded. ‘Sadly Dickon didn’t make it.’ ‘Then I’m sorry to hear it,’ Roger said with sympathy. ‘Fine young man. Gave you loyal service.’ Putting on a bright smile, Catherine faced Roger, prepared to play the congenial hostess with guileless warmth despite her inner torment. ‘It’s good to see you, Roger. You will share a meal with us?’ Affecting a fine, courtly bow, Roger took her hand and bent over it. ‘Thank you, my dear, I accept gladly.’ He st
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven W hen Marcus went out to meet with friends, after saying goodnight to Elizabeth and her offspring, Catherine retired early that night. She felt tired, which Alice told her was to do with her pregnancy—and wasn’t it high time she informed his lordship that he was going to be a father? she remarked crossly. Catherine sighed and, closing her eyes, relaxed against the pillows. ‘I will, Alice, tomorrow, so don’t nag. I want to tell him when Harry is safely on his way to France, so that he can truly savour the idea of being a father. At this moment all I want to do is sleep.’ But sleep did not come easily to her that night. It was way after midnight when, with a jolt, she started to wake, ill at ease. She could not stop thinking about her visit to Westminster and Harry. There was something in that house that had instilled fear in her. What was it? She had seen something. It nagged at her mind, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember what it was. Getting out of bed, she p
Chapter Eleven
Table of Contents
Chapter One I t was the year 1684 at the King’s Head Tavern in Fleet Street that two men sat over a game of cards. Not an unusual occurrence, one might think, but not so for these two men. This was no ordinary game of cards. Alone in a small room, they sat opposite each other at a liquor-soaked table, the flickering flames of the candles
playing on chiselled features. The atmosphere was thick and tense as each man sat with bated breath, waiting for the turn of a card—a card that would decide the fate of one of them. The older man, Henry Barrington, who sat so still he was like a figure carved in stone, had gambled and lost almost everything he owned to the other man, who watched him closely, quietly confident, and who had remained cool and perfectly calm throughout the two hours they had been playing. Marcus Reresby had at last caught up with Henry Barrington at this tavern, which was used as a rendezvous, a rallying point for the political Green Ribbon Club, republicans and exclusioni
Chapter One
Chapter Two ‘W here is my wife?’ Marcus demanded of Alice on his arrival at Riverside House. He had been in London when he had learned of the death of Henry Barrington, and he was quite astonished by how unmoved he felt. No feeling of guilt or remorse assailed him, and no ghost would rise up from the grave to haunt him. However, the bitterness Marcus had felt over the manner of his father’s death eighteen months ago was as deep and strong in his blood as it had been at the time, and he would not rest until he had found the man who had conspired with Barrington to kill him. At his first opportunity he had left London. Catherine would have matured into a woman now. She’d had plenty of time to come to terms with the idea of being his wife and resign herself to her responsibilities. Marcus rose to his full six feet three inches. At first he was incredulous when Mistress Parks told him Catherine had left, and then his dark complexion turned darker. ‘What manner of nonsense is this? If my wi
Chapter Two
Chapter Three T he inn was crowded and noisy. In every smoke-filled room men and women were eating or drinking, transacting business or discussing the news of the day. They were shown into a cosy bedchamber, in which a fire burned bright. A four-poster bed with a canopy and faced bedspread of scarlet and gold dominated the room. ‘Ah,’ Marcus said on seeing baggage other than his own stacked on the floor. ‘I see the Tippets have lost no time in having your things sent over.’ From where he stood in the doorway, seeing Catherine’s gaze sweep the room with unease, he said, ‘I can see that something disturbs you.’ ‘You might say that.’ She turned to look at him with contempt, not caring that her emotion showed plainly on her expressive face. ‘It’s the sleeping arrangements. Where are you to sleep?’ Closing the door, Marcus strode into the room and approached his wife in a misleadingly indolent manner. His dark eyes smiled, but his face gave nothing away of his thoughts. ‘With you. In this b
Chapter Three
Chapter Four D uring her first days at Saxton Court, Catherine’s strong young body recovered from the journey from The Hague. The recovery of her spirits and acceptance of her situation would take longer. She was calm, doing her best to fight her way back to reality, the reality of the loss of her home and Harry—both of which no longer existed in her world. Yet common sense and a hard-headed practicality came to her aid. For better or for worse Marcus Reresby was her husband, Saxton Court her home, and she was the mistress of a vast estate where she would have many duties and social obligations to perform. Without realising it she slipped into the daily rhythm of her new life, and it wasn’t long before the servants began to hold her in the same affection and respect as they did her husband. Saxton Court stood in an isolated corner of Somerset, lying between the Quantock and Blackdown Hills. It was a fertile area of small fields, rich pastures, grazing sheep and cattle and cider orchard
Chapter Four
Chapter Five A fter saying goodnight to their guests, when Marcus went to speak to Mr Fenton about an estate matter, Catherine escaped to her chamber. In a state of jarring tension, with a feeling of dread she waited for the inevitable moment when Marcus would seek her out. She didn’t have long to wait. He entered without knocking and closed the door behind him with an ominous thud. She turned, seeing the explosion of her husband in her room. The room, which had been calm, with Catherine seated at her dressing table brushing out her hair, and Alice and a young maid turning down the bed, was suddenly alive with Marcus’s handsome, virile presence. ‘Perhaps I am mistaken, Marcus, but I did not hear you knock,’ Catherine rebuked with a hard note in her clear voice. Her tone suggested he had committed a grave error. His mouth tightened. ‘Possibly because I didn’t knock.’ ‘Your visit is inconvenient. I am tired and wish to prepare for bed.’ ‘Then don’t let me stop you,’ he said shortly. He g
Chapter Five
Chapter Six C atherine emerged from the wood into a small clearing. The open ground was filled with silent people, men, women and children milling in panic. The faces were stamped with expressions ranging from fear and shock to outright anger. She paused for a moment, assessing the event. A chill raced down her spine. The wretched figure of a man was being dragged moaning and stumbling towards the trunk of a stout tree. His hands had been forced behind his back and tied. Fiercely excited, yapping hounds circled him, and the gaping wounds on his legs told Catherine that they had already had their taste of blood. ‘Mercy! Don’t kill me!’ the man cried out, his eyes darting about in terror. A woman ran out from the crowd and threw herself at Fenton’s feet in desperation. ‘Let him go! He is my father. For the love of God, let him go!’ she pleaded tearfully. Fenton’s eyes were merciless as he watched one of his henchmen, a brutal-faced man with a whip in his hand, roughly push her aside. Los
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven L eaving the half dozen men he had with him to partake of rest and what refreshment Saxton Court had to offer, Marcus set off for Burton Grange for an audience with George Stanhope. As deputy Lieutenant of the county’s militia, if Fenton had been actively involved in aiding Monmouth and was guilty of gross misconduct towards the workers at Saxton Court, George would know about it. ‘We’ve had our eyes on Fenton for a while, Marcus,’ George informed him gravely. ‘I tend to agree with Elizabeth, that coming into your father’s service was a guise that helped to lead suspicion away from him. I have evidence that he has been assisting John Trenchard in drawing a large number of West Country men into Monmouth’s faction for some time. He hasn’t taken up arms himself—whether he will or not remains to be seen, but I will tell you now that he is a marked man.’ ‘I understand that Trenchard left the country before Monmouth landed.’ ‘He did. Like yourself, Marcus, I have known John Tre
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight M onmouth’s army of ill-assorted troops was worryingly short of experienced soldiers. At Bridgwater, ten miles north of Taunton, he was received even more enthusiastically than at Taunton, and by the time his troops left, they were boasting that, within a week, King James would have been ousted and James Scott, Duke of Monmouth, would be enthroned. They could afford to boast for now. So far they had only been tested by county militia of doubtful allegiance, but the regular army, arriving in the western counties in significant numbers, was drawing closer each day, outnumbering the rebels. There was no organisation in the rebel army, and the weapons and armour Monmouth had brought from Holland were never distributed. Also, there were hardly any officers. Lord John Churchill, originally the commander of the King’s forces sent to combat Monmouth’s rebellion, had been superseded in command by the Earl of Feversham. With twenty-five years of loyal service behind him, the King t
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine I ntending to go and see Harry Stapleton, and in no mood to be charitable or accommodating, Marcus paused on the terrace, putting off the moment, and stared into the darkness beyond, deeply affected by his conversation with his wife. The thought of having to deny her was becoming a growing torment. He knew that for her sake he must try to do what he could to save Stapleton’s life, for there would never be any happiness between them if he refused her this. A familiar ache appeared to strike at his heart. He didn’t want to lose Catherine, so what was to be done? Maybe she was right. He had inadvertently destroyed Harry Stapleton’s future and perhaps it was time to make amends for the wrongs he had done. His lips twisted in a cynical smile. Amends! Hadn’t that something to do with
a repentant conscience—a conscience which was becoming a great deal more inconvenient than he would ever have thought possible? The shadowy outline of a tall man clad in a long cloak and standing, f
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten I n no mood for company, Marcus was about to turn away as the heavy coach lumbered up the drive. However, when it came to a halt, he was pleasantly surprised when Roger emerged. ‘Roger! I thought you were still in London. Is Elizabeth with you?’ ‘No. She’s content to remain in London while all this upheaval is going on.’ ‘You’re right, it’s the best place for her at this time. She is well, I hope?’ ‘Aye, she is, and the children. I’m relieved that you survived Sedgemoor, Marcus. We heard about it in London—dreadful business.’ Marcus nodded. ‘Sadly Dickon didn’t make it.’ ‘Then I’m sorry to hear it,’ Roger said with sympathy. ‘Fine young man. Gave you loyal service.’ Putting on a bright smile, Catherine faced Roger, prepared to play the congenial hostess with guileless warmth despite her inner torment. ‘It’s good to see you, Roger. You will share a meal with us?’ Affecting a fine, courtly bow, Roger took her hand and bent over it. ‘Thank you, my dear, I accept gladly.’ He st
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven W hen Marcus went out to meet with friends, after saying goodnight to Elizabeth and her offspring, Catherine retired early that night. She felt tired, which Alice told her was to do with her pregnancy—and wasn’t it high time she informed his lordship that he was going to be a father? she remarked crossly. Catherine sighed and, closing her eyes, relaxed against the pillows. ‘I will, Alice, tomorrow, so don’t nag. I want to tell him when Harry is safely on his way to France, so that he can truly savour the idea of being a father. At this moment all I want to do is sleep.’ But sleep did not come easily to her that night. It was way after midnight when, with a jolt, she started to wake, ill at ease. She could not stop thinking about her visit to Westminster and Harry. There was something in that house that had instilled fear in her. What was it? She had seen something. It nagged at her mind, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember what it was. Getting out of bed, she p
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