Dimly, through the exhaustion and pain Lucy was suffering, she wondered why Gavin and Peter had not arrived at the inn. Jem must have reached them the previous evening at the very latest, and she knew they would not hesitate in coming to her. Perhaps they had been away for the whole night. Or, Lucy wondered helplessly – had Jem forsaken and betrayed her? Faintly, at intervals, she pondered this problem. Once it occurred to her that they might have arrived but been apprehended and prevented from reaching her, but she hastily thrust this thought away, her tired mind refusing to accept the possibility.
It was late in the afternoon, and she came out of her semi-stupor when the sound of a coach was heard in the inn yard. A faint ray of hope shone, but it was soon extinguished when ten minutes later there was a knock on the door and Agnes showed another woman into the room.
'Welcome, Mistress Phillips,' Hopkins said, turning briefly from his questioning of Lucy. 'I am happy to see you arrived safely.'
'Aye. Though 'twas no pleasant journey, with the sun so fierce. So this is what you have unearthed here?'
She considered Lucy sneeringly, and Lucy stared dully back at her. She saw a large, plump middle-aged woman with small beady eyes and a thin cruel mouth. Mistress Phillips looked at her coldly for a moment, and then nodded.
'You wish me to start on her?' she asked.
'Not immediately,' Hopkins replied. 'We will have supper first, but she is proving obdurate, and will not take the opportunity to confess. After supper we will change our methods.'
Mistress Phillips nodded and left the room. Hopkins immediately resumed his questioning of Lucy, but despite her weariness, her thirst and hunger, and the raging headache that almost blinded her, she steadfastly refused to give the answers that he tried to put into her mouth.
*
Chapter 12
Eventually they were called to supper, and the nature of Lucy's torture changed again. Instead of the insistent questioning she had her surly gaoler who dragged, half carried her round the room in his determination not to let her snatch a moment's respite in unconsciousness.
An hour later Hopkins and his two assistants returned. He looked at Lucy closely, then nodded, satisfied.
'She'll not give us trouble. You go and eat now.'
The constable, dour as ever, nodded and went out. Lucy collapsed onto a chair, but was roughly ordered to stand up. Painfully, scarce knowing how she achieved it, she dragged herself to her feet.
'The table will do,' said Mistress Phillips, having looked contemptuously round at the bare furnishings. 'Mr Stearne, if you please?'
John Stearne advanced towards Lucy and she instinctively tried to retreat, but he was on her before her dazed body could move far, and putting his arms round her, swung her easily off her feet and laid her down none too gently on the table. She tried to sit up, but Mistress Phillips pushed her shoulders.
'Stay where you're put.'
She looked up to see Mistress Phillips' face suspended above her on one side, and John Stearne's lascivious grin to the other. Then Mistress Phillips looked across at the man.
'It would give you pleasure to do the stripping, no doubt?'
He grinned but did not answer. He stretched out his hands, and Lucy felt him begin to unlace her dress. At that moment Matthew Hokins spoke. Lucy did not catch his words, but Mistress Phillips turned away to answer him.
Summoning up her last reserves of strength, Lucy wriggled and rolled off the table away from John Stearne. She stumbled and collapsed onto the floor as, with an oath, he moved round the table to her. Roughly he pulled her to her feet. Pitifully weak, she attempted to hold him off, while with one strong arm round her pinioning both of her arms, he used his other hand to tear her dress. It tore from neck to hem, and he pulled it off easily, for her struggles were very feeble. Then he took her shift and tore that, and Lucy was left cowering before them in the centre of the room, while Stearne stepped back, looking her over with satisfaction. Even Matthew Hopkins gave a little gasp as he saw the perfection revealed in a exquisitely proportioned, unblemished creamy white body.
John Stearne, smiling, took a step towards Lucy, and she backed away from him, as they all became aware of noises outside in the passage. Mistress Phillips looked enquiringly at Hopkins, but he was moving towards the door, drawing the short dagger that was at his belt. John Stearne turned round just as the door burst open. Lucy, barely conscious, backed into the corner of the room, saw Gavin standing with his sword drawn, and glimpsed Peter and Jem behind him.
*
Gavin took in the situation immediately.
'Deal with him and the woman,' he said curtly, indicating Hopkins.
Peter, sword in hand, leapt towards Hopkins who retreated, fear in his eyes, his puny dagger held before him. With a quick flick of his wrist, Peter knocked it away, and the point of his sword tore across Hopkins' face as the man cowered back. With a scream of agony he fell to the ground, and Peter swiftly secured his ankles and wrists with cords he had ready in his pocket. Peter looked at the wound which was long but not deep, and smiled grimly.
'It will mark you for the rest of your miserable life,' he said, 'but 'tis nought to puke about!'
Jem seized Mistress Phillips' ample form, but was having difficulty in holding her firmly. She wriggled and struggled in his grasp so that, strong as he was, he could not immobilise her. He carried a cudgel which he had not used, but which hampered his movements. Exasperated, he finally managed to twist her arms up behind her back, then gasped as she kicked viciously back at his shins. Holding both her wrists in one of his large hands, he raised the cudgel and hit her on the side of the head. She went limp in his grasp, and with a sigh of satisfaction he lowered her to the floor. Peter was ready with more cords, and she was soon secured.
Gavin advanced towards Sterne who was standing a couple of paces in front of Lucy, holding a long slim dagger.
'Drop that!' Gavin ordered, but Stearne laughed harshly and with a quick movement hurled the dagger at Gavin, who sidestepped swiftly, feeling the wind of the dagger as it whistled past his ear.
Gavin approached, his sword extended.
'What, would you, a Cavalier, an honourable Cavalier, attack an unarmed man?' taunted Stearne, and Gavin smiled at him grimly and lowered his sword.
'I would take no unfair advantage of even such scum as you,' he said. 'Just as you take no unfair advantage of your victims. Be not afeard. I do not intend to cut you to pieces. You deserve a worse fate than that.'
So saying, he threw the sword into a corner of the room, then leapt forward and smashed his fist between Stearne's eyes. Gasping, the man retreated and tried to protect himself, but in vain. Gavin, his arms flashing, rained punch upon damaging punch all over Stearne's body and face, within seconds having the man pleading for mercy. Then Gavin sent him flying to the ground, and Stearne made no effort to rise. Gavin stood, breathing deeply, looking down upon him.
'Have you had enough?'
The man did not answer, but lay groaning in agony, and with a short laugh Gavin turned away.
'Tie him up.' He looked across at Hopkins. 'I would mete out the same treatment to you, if you were younger. Be warned, if I hear aught more of such activities you will not escape.'
Hopkins went white, and began to bluster that he was only doing his duty.
'Get them out of here,' Gavin ordered. 'Put them in the coach this woman came in, and Jem, will you escort them? When you are within sight of Chelmsford, release the woman so that she can untie the others, then let them go. They will not trouble Brookley again, I'll warrant.'
'Aye.' Jem summoned help from the crowd of villagers and servants who were crowding in the passageway, and organised the removal of the three witch hunters.
Gavin, having given orders, turned to Lucy, and with a cry she had held out her arms to him. He knelt beside her where she half crouched, half lay on the floor, and gathered her into his arms.
'My love, 'tis all over. You are safe now, my dear,' he whispered to h
er. He looked up as Peter approached, holding a cloak. Smiling his thanks, Gavin wrapped Lucy in this.
'My father,' she managed to whisper hoarsely. 'In another room.'
Gavin looked at Peter. 'That I did not know. Will you investigate?'
'Leave that to me.'
By now the room was empty, and Gavin stood up, lifting Lucy gently in his arms.
'I am taking you home, my dear,' he whispered to her. 'Peter will bring Humphrey.'
*
Relaxing, knowing she was now safe from the horrors of the past days, Lucy felt herself slipping from consciousness, and by the time Gavin had carried her out past the curious crowd in the inn and into the stable yard she was asleep in his arms. He called for his horse, and the ostler came running, staring curiously at Lucy.
'We've only just unsaddled your horse, Mr Anstey,' the man said, somewhat aggrieved.
'Then just saddle him again. I go to the Manor.'
The man did as he was told, and Gavin gave Lucy to him while he mounted, then gently he received her back into his arms, and settled her in front of him.
'Prepare the horses for Sir Humphrey and Mr Francis. They will be down shortly.'
He rode out of the inn yard and turned towards the Manor, riding slowly and carefully with his burden. Arriving there he carried Lucy up to her room, and laid her in her bed while the anxious housekeeper fussed around, and indignantly shooed him away when he would have removed the cloak from about Lucy's naked form.
'Indeed, Mr Gavin!' the good woman protested. 'You must leave us. I can do all that is necessary for the poor lass.'
Smiling, he left, knowing Lucy was in good hands, and asked to be called the moment she awoke.
Peter and Sir Humphrey arrived soon afterwards, and Gavin joined them to hear from Sir Humphrey what had happened, and tell him about his own intervention.
When Lucy awoke, refreshed and largely recovered from her ordeal, very late the following morning, Gavin went in to her. She was sitting in bed propped up by pillows, wearing a delicate lace-trimmed nightgown. She had discarded the lace cap, and it lay beside her while her hair streamed down over her shoulders. She was drinking a thickened broth the housekeeper had concocted for her, and she handed the mug to Mistress Hemming and smiled at Gavin as he walked into the room.
'I thank you for your rescue of me,' she said, smiling at him.
'I regret we were so long delayed before coming to you.'
'You must not tire Mistress Lucy,' Mistress Hemming admonished, bringing Lucy a plate with tasty chicken morsels.
'I will not do that,' he smiled at her. 'I but wish to know how you feel, Lucy.'
'I am well enough,' she answered. 'I thank you for coming to me. How is my father?'
'He is well, though he was exceedingly worried for you. He did not suffer the ill treatment you underwent.'
'Poor father,' she murmured. 'He was imprisoned for two whole days, not knowing what had happened to me.'
'But able to guess,' Gavin said shortly. 'It was fortunate it was no worse, but I regret we were delayed so.'
'What happened?'
'Jem did not reach us until late on Wednesday afternoon.'
Lucy frowned. 'But 'twas Tuesday morning, early, that I spoke with him.'
'Aye, but he was unable to leave the inn. Agnes had overheard him talking to you, and guessed what was toward. By some pretext she got him into the cellar and locked him in.
Lucy laughed. 'She has a passion for imprisoning people.'
'Aye, and it was only because a servant unwittingly found him and released him on Wednesday that he was able to come to us.'
'So he did keep his promise to me. I feared he had not.'
'He is heartily sorry for his part in the affair. He came to ask how you did this morning, and begged me to give you his apologies. He wants to make them himself as soon as you are well enough to see him. Poor fellow, he is overcome with remorse. Will you forgive him, Lucy?'
'Forgive him? For having a mother like Agnes? 'Tis commiseration he needs, not forgiveness! Of course! I bear no grudge against him, he was hard pressed. What of – of those other devils?'
'They have been sent on their way, with threats that if they cause further trouble they will have me to deal with.'
'They are not like to return?' asked Lucy, a slight tremor in her voice.
'I doubt it, but I am not taking any risk by leaving you alone again.'
'Now, Mr Gavin, you have been here long enough. Mistress Lucy must rest,' the housekeeper interrupted, and Gavin nodded.
'Oh, but I am getting up.'
'No, indeed, the very thought on't!'
'But I must see my father, see how he is.'
'Sir Humphrey can come to you. You must rest.'
'I feel well enough, truly.'
'Mistress Hemming is right,' Gavin put in, picking up Lucy's hand and pressing it. He smiled into her eyes. 'It will not hurt you to sleep for longer. Humphrey will come to you, and if you are fit you may get up for supper.'
'Very well.' Lucy smiled at him and lay back, ceasing her protests. He left her, and Mistress Hemming firmly closed the door after him.
'Now drink this milk, dearie,' she said coaxingly, and Lucy complied. Shortly afterwards her father came into the room, and told her how he had become worried at her absence, and had sent servants in various directions, until one of them had returned with the news that she had been seen carried into the inn.
'That wretch Hopkins and his assistants are well out of the way by now, and we will ensure that they do not return. Agnes I will deal with later. But you must promise me, Lucy, not to leave the house unless someone accompanies you.'
Smiling, she gave the promise. 'Though I shall drive you distracted by demanding company,' she threatened.
'I will bear you company all the time, my dear,' he answered, a catch in his voice. 'I lost your mother, and now I have you, and know you, I could not bear to lose you. Now rest, and join us for supper. Young Peter Francis is still here.'
He left, and Mistress Hemming bustled around for some while longer. Lucy, to her surprise, felt drowsy and soon drifted off to sleep again.
*
Some hours later she woke feeling completely recovered, and rang the bell. Mistress Hemming appeared promptly.
'Why, Mistress Lucy, you look better. You have colour in your cheeks. I've sent the maids for water for your bath.'
The bedroom became a hive of activity with pails of hot water being emptied into the bath. Soon Lucy was relaxing in the hot soapy water and afterwards took time over dressing herself in one of her prettiest gowns, a pale blue taffeta dress with a deep lace collar and cuffs. It was trimmed with darker blue bows and ribbons, and a darker blue petticoat was displayed as the overdress was looped back.
They were merry at supper, and by mutual consent did not discuss the recent happenings. Gavin entertained them with stories of the Court, though he became serious when they considered the reverses the King had suffered in the war.
'But he is gathering a new army now,' Peter said enthusiastically. 'It will not be long before he wins back his position.'
'I trust not,' Gavin answered.
After supper they strolled out into the garden, and Gavin walked slowly with Lucy towards the rose garden. He paused beside a bush of brilliant deep red roses. Carefully selecting one, he broke it off, and looking down tenderly at Lucy tucked it into the lace of her dress. Shyly, her heart beating rapidly, she buried her nose into it and sniffed it fragrance.
'It is beautiful,' she murmured. 'Roses are the loveliest flowers.'
'And you are a rose, Lucy.'
She laughed a triflle unsteadily, her heart pounding at his nearness, but then Peter and Sir Humphrey came up to them and no more was said.
On the following morning Mistress Francis, accompanied by Sarah, arrived at the Manor. They had known of Lucy's capture, and Peter had dispatched a servant to tell them of her rescue on the previous day.
'I came to reassur
e myself you were safe and recovered, my child,' Mistress Francis informed her somewhat coolly, glancing suspiciously at Gavin as she spoke. After civilities had been exchanged, Sarah and Lucy were able to withdraw into a corner of the room where they could converse in low tones.
'Lucy! What a terrible thing to have happened to you!'
'It was unpleasant,' Lucy agreed, 'But 'tis over now, thanks to Gavin and Peter.'
Sarah nodded and smiled. 'Mother was insistent Peter accompany Gavin, but he was not loth, he would have come in any event, but she is encouraging him to pay attentions to you now. Have you not noticed?'
'I did wonder why she suggested Peter should take me out into the garden,' Lucy responded, laughing, for that had been mooted almost as soon as Mistress Francis arrived. 'Am I suddenly acceptable to her as Sir Humphrey's daughter?' Sarah smiled. 'But how of you? What has been happening of late?'
Sarah blushed, and Lucy looked at her intently.
'I have a new suitor,' Sarah said shyly.
'A new suitor?' Lucy asked, puzzled.
'Aye. A Mr Wetherby from Colchester.'
'I have not heard of him.'
'Oh, he is vastly rich,' Sarah said excitedly.
'Young and handsome too?' Lucy smiled.
'He is distinguished looking,' said Sarah slowly. 'Not precisely young. He is about five and thirty. And not precisely handsome, though he has good features.'
'How did you meet him?' asked Lucy, intrigued.
'Papa brought him home a few weeks since. I thought he was taken with me, and he keeps making new pretences to come to the house. I think he will soon ask Papa for my hand.'
'You will accept?'
'Oh, yes. I like him vastly, and he is rich. Mother is a little disappointed he is of merchant stock, but she realised he is a good match.'
'But what of Gavin? I thought – '
'I like Gavin well enough,' Sarah answered with an embarrassed laugh. 'But in truth he frightens me.'
'Gavin? Frightens you? In heaven's name, why?'
'He looks at me so intently,' said Sarah uncomfortably, 'as though he were about to laugh at me. He seems to know all my secrets!'
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