Royalist on the Run

by Helen Dickson

  On occasion he would insist she accompany him to a supper or to some other event held at one or another of his friends’ places of residence—he liked to parade her among his friends. The people she met at these events were so very different from the kind of exiles she had become acquainted with on her arrival in Paris. John’s associates, she observed derisively, existed in a world of languid self-indulgence and careless gaiety deserving of contempt.

  John had always been a gambler, believing gambling to be an effortless way of making money. He also drank heavily as the nights he gambled wore on, the liquor increasing his readiness to take risks, but he was lucky and the money steadily piled up in front of him, allowing them luxuries other exiles could ill afford.

  She heard nothing of Edward and the longer she went without word, the more her heart ached for him. Thankfully John was not at home when Stephen called on her. She was so overwhelmed to see her brother’s familiar, beloved face at last that she cried tears of absolute joy and relief at having someone to talk to after the excruciating days of living with John.

  ‘Oh, Stephen!’ Vulnerable and aching to be close to him, she moved into his outstretched arms and placed her cheek against his chest, his hard, strong, reliable chest, while his arms enfolded her. ‘I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you. Are you fully recovered? When I left Bircot Hall you were very ill.’

  ‘As you see, Arabella, I am quite well.’ He grinned. ‘I had an excellent nurse.’

  She laughed lightly, which was something she had not done in a long time. ‘I think you mean Margaret. I know how close the two of you became. I imagine she is missing you dreadfully.’

  ‘As I am missing her,’ he replied softly. ‘I have promised to write to her when I am settled, and who knows...’

  ‘Who indeed,’ Arabella murmured, happy for her brother. She was extremely fond of Margaret. She would like to have her for a sister-in-law. ‘And Alice and the children? How are they? I miss them so much.’

  ‘Alice works hard, but they are all well.’ He glanced around the room, as if expecting Arabella’s husband to appear out of the shadows at any moment. ‘Where is he?’

  Her face fell. ‘John? He is out just now. I don’t know where he goes, only that he’s gambling heavily—and drinking.’

  ‘Gambling?’

  She nodded. ‘It’s nothing new—which you must remember, having known him a good deal longer than me. He has an obsession for it. In the past he used to win a little, but more often than not lose heavily. Now his luck seems to have changed. He believes gambling to be an effortless way of making money. At least it means we are able to live well.’

  ‘It must have come as a shock to you when you realised he was still alive. I lost track of him after the two of you wed. Edward has told me how he feigned his death—although why he should is a mystery to me. Is he treating you well?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes—I am alone for most of the time, but I am not complaining. Have—have you seen Edward?’

  ‘Of course I have,’ he replied, his expression grave. ‘He’s furious that you chose to return to John. He won’t admit it, but I know he misses you. What on earth possessed you to go back to him, after the way he deceived you?’

  He turned from her in frustration. On seeing her cloak flung over a chair he picked it up and draped it over her shoulders. ‘Come, let us get out of here and go somewhere we can talk—where there’s no danger of your husband coming home and overhearing. The last thing I want at this moment is to confront him until I know what’s going on.’

  * * *

  Neither of them spoke until they reached the small park where Arabella sometimes walked when she felt the need to be away from the rooms she lived in. Even though John left her alone his presence was like some evil spectre always looking over her shoulder. It had rained heavily the day before, but today the skies were clear and the park smelt fresh and fragrant. There were few people about. Taking her arm and hooking it through his own, Stephen strolled at a leisurely pace, deeply concerned for his sister and meaning to get to the bottom of it.

  ‘Now tell me, Arabella. All of it. Has John some kind of hold over you? Is that it? Are you afraid of him?’

  Arabella stopped suddenly and faced him. The strain and the tension she had been under since returning to live with John was sapping her strength and she began to tremble. Seeing her distress, Stephen gathered her to him, stroking her head gently.

  ‘Tell me. Surely it cannot be that bad.’

  ‘But it is,’ she whispered, and she began to spill out her tale, relieved to unburden her heart, but omitting to tell him about the child she was carrying and John’s terrible affliction. But she was afraid of the consequences when John found out that she had betrayed him.

  ‘So you see, if I were to disobey him, John has sworn to me that he will kidnap Dickon and have him sent to England—to Malcolm Lister.’

  Stephen held her at arm’s length and looked at her stricken face in horror. ‘Edward’s brother-in-law?’

  She nodded. ‘The same.’

  ‘But I seem to recall Edward telling me he wants to seize Dickon to make him his heir.’

  ‘Yes. When he captured Edward in Bristol, he hoped he would be executed for his support of the King. That would have left the way clear for him to take Dickon and raise him as he would had he been his own son.’

  ‘So that is why you went back to John.’

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered wretchedly. ‘To keep Dickon safe. John will not forgive me for telling you. I have learned to my cost not to cross him. He is evil and manipulative and I know he will carry out his threat if I leave him. What will you do, Stephen? Will you tell Edward?’

  ‘How can I not? Edward has a right to know, to do everything within his power to ensure Dickon’s safety.’

  * * *

  Before Stephen left Arabella, he promised to meet her in the park the following day. He had tried to persuade her to leave John and return to Verity, but she had adamantly refused, which led him to believe there might be more behind the hold John had over her than she was admitting.

  Deeply concerned by what Arabella had told him, he lost no time in seeking Edward out at St Germain. As he had expected, on learning the truth, a fury the like of which he had never felt before erupted inside his friend. In a few seconds Edward’s face expressed first stupefaction, then fury, then a look of implacable hatred which transformed his features.

  Fairburn! Edward had seen Fairburn just once. For his part he did not merely dislike him, he regarded him with active hatred and a corroding resentment.

  ‘So, he will take my son! He will make him part of his evil scheme to keep his wife! Arabella will leave him. She cannot stay with him now. The devil help Fairburn when I get my hands on him. I shall see he is made to pay in every possible sense of the word. Beginning with the gambling he is so fond of. He can’t go on winning for ever. I intend to destroy him.’

  * * *

  Wrapped in her warm woollen cloak against the day’s chill, the wide hood drawn over her head so that only her face was exposed, Arabella walked the short distance to the park to meet Stephen. The afternoon was pale and cool, the sun visible but remote. Overhead, birds wheeled before they dipped and vanished among the treetops. A cloaked figure stood some distance ahead, his plumed hat shading his face. With the cool air caressing her cheeks she moved towards him.

  Not until she drew closer did the man remove his hat—and she recognised Edward. In her delight at seeing him again, she forgot everything else and was drawn to him irresistibly. When he saw her he strode towards her. Their eyes locked for a moment and time stood still. She saw a faint tremor pass over his hard, handsome face and she smiled at him with all the concentrated warmth and radiance of the love she bore him. His glance met hers. For only a moment his eyes were not contemptuous or cold. The blue depths held a
warmth of feeling such as Arabella had despaired of finding. But suddenly the precious moment was gone and his face became hard, suspicious, his eyes cold and accusing.

  They stood facing each other. There was something intangible between them which had developed when John had appeared and caused so much antagonism. She had wanted to see Edward so much, longed to be alone with him, that now the moment had arrived she was suddenly shy of him and didn’t know what to say. She stood gazing up at him with eyes shining with an unearthly brilliance. She slipped the hood from her head, her magnificent mane of hair tumbling about her shoulders.

  Edward reached out and tilted her face a little further up to his, scrutinising her features as if she had changed somehow during their parting.

  ‘How are you?’ he asked suddenly, the question abrupt, although he was concerned to see that the lustre had gone from her eyes. Her face was like a delicate piece of carved ivory, so pale, but he thought it only served to emphasise the purity of its lines.

  She gave him a faltering little smile. ‘I am well.’

  ‘You are very lovely, Arabella, and you have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. You are also exceedingly desirable—worthy of someone who is not a cheat and a liar—which your husband has proved to be,’ he added bitterly. As he said this his face hardened and a fierceness entered his eyes.

  Arabella’s power of speech returned and with it her courage. ‘Perhaps you are right. Who am I to say? Stephen has told you my reason for returning to John? Is that why you have come instead of my brother?’

  ‘How could I not? Did you expect me to ignore it when someone threatens to harm my son?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘How could you keep it from me? Why did you not tell me this when last we met—when you had decided to go back to him?’

  Confronted with his wrath, Arabella lowered her eyes with regret and remorse that she had allowed John to manipulate her so easily. ‘Listen to me, Edward, and do not condemn me without hearing me first. You have no idea how I felt on that dreadful day when John came back from the dead. I went back to him because I was afraid—afraid that he would carry out his threat. I, too, love Dickon as if he were my very own. I could not bear to think of anything harmful happening to him.’

  ‘I made a grave mistake in letting you go back to that man. I should have stopped you.’

  ‘There was nothing you could have done. I am John’s wife. He had right on his side. Please don’t confront him with this, Edward. You don’t know him—what he’s like. He will kill you.’

  Edward observed her with a faint, crooked smile. ‘What a poor creature you must think me if you think I will let this pass, or that I am so weak that I will let him overpower me. Your husband is in much greater danger from me, for I will do everything in my power to kill him. How dare he threaten my son! And you, Arabella. You intended to keep this from me!’

  Arabella stood there, stunned and uncomprehending, as his bitterness engulfed her. She stared at him in disbelief, numbed at the unexpected reaction, at the unfairness of his failure to understand all that she had been through. Despite her intentions of keeping her temper, she found herself provoked almost beyond endurance.

  ‘Please have the good sense to consider what I have done and why I did it. Can you not see that it has all been for you and Dickon, that I have risked everything for you? That everything I have done I have agonised over? Do you think it was easy for me? Do you understand nothing at all?’

  ‘I understand very well. Bearing in mind that you have returned to your husband, how do you expect me to feel? Ever since you went back to him I have died a thousand deaths imagining you with him—of him touching you. I thought I was stronger than that and I hate myself for my weakness.’

  She averted her eyes and a small sigh escaped her lips. ‘I’m sorry, Edward. At the time I did what I thought was right—the only thing I could do. Everything Stephen has told you is true. John threatened to kidnap Dickon and take him to Malcolm Lister if I did not go back to him. He—he has many friends who would be willing to help him. It wouldn’t have been difficult for him to carry out his threat. Once Dickon arrived in England—with the threat of arrest and execution hanging over you—he knew there was nothing you could do. If you don’t believe me, then there is nothing more I can say to convince you.’

  ‘Then tell me this. Why did you decide to disclose this now? Forgive me, Arabella, but that is what I can’t understand. Has he had a change of heart?’

  ‘No. I have. I was not expecting Stephen to call. He found me at a weak moment. I did wrong not telling you why I went back to John. I do know that. But—I—I didn’t know what else to do. My concern was not just for Dickon—but for you also.’

  She moved closer and he was enveloped in the sweet fragrance of her perfume. Despite his anger towards her there was still an affinity between them which Arabella felt with every fibre of her being. Whatever Edward would say to what she was about to disclose, she had to let him know how she felt. Very softly and with a slight hesitation, she said, ‘You see—I love you, Edward—and I knew that if anything should happen to your son, it would break your heart.’

  As soon as she had uttered the words she felt surprisingly at ease and carefree. Edward merely stared at her. He didn’t protest or contradict her, he merely stepped back.

  At length, he said, ‘Do you forget that you have a husband—a husband who is so ruthless he would harm a child to make you stay with him? He has created a chasm between us which cannot be overcome and which I would not cross without feeling repugnance and shame if I let my need and desire for you triumph over my will.’

  ‘I do not lie. I do love you, Edward—very much. I think I have loved you since I was a mere girl and I thought you would be my—’

  ‘Stop it, Arabella,’ he uttered fiercely. ‘Don’t do this.’

  ‘I have to. I have to let you know how I feel. When I gave myself to you I did so gladly—without shame or remorse. I wanted you from the bottom of my heart.’

  ‘And I will assume you have said the same words to the man you are living with—the man whose bed you share. How many times have you given yourself to him since you went back to him? How many times, Arabella?’

  She glared at him, her temper rising. To have her declaration of love thrown back at her in so flippant a manner was intolerable. ‘How dare you say that to me? You know nothing about what happens between—between—me and...’ Unable to go on, with tears of misery almost blinding her, she bit her lip to keep it from trembling and turned from him.

  Hearing the catch in her voice and seeing her obvious distress, Edward was irresistibly drawn to her. Her delicate scent proved potent and had him remembering how it had felt to hold her in his arms.

  Standing close behind her, on a softer note he said, ‘Tell me, Arabella. Does he hurt you? Is that what you are trying to say?’

  Without turning, she swallowed audibly and nodded. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘But be assured that he—has not touched me since I went back to him.’

  Not having expected her to say that, he looked at her carefully for a moment before saying, ‘What proof do I have that you are speaking the truth?’

  ‘Because he—he can’t.’

  Edward studied the back of her head closely. ‘Can’t? What are you saying?’

  ‘He—he was wounded at St Fagans—very badly as a matter of fact. He—he is in constant pain. As a result of his injury he—he is impotent,’ she told him quietly.

  Edward stared at the back of her head. Whatever she had been about to say he had not expected that. His self-control cracked and at almost the same moment Arabella turned round to face him, her lovely eyes moist with tears. Suddenly they were alone in the world. Edward drew her to him and wrapped his arms round her, burying his face in her wealth of sweet scented hair.

  ‘Thank God,’
he murmured hoarsely, his voice holding so much anguish that Arabella’s tears overflowed. ‘I have been tortured by images of you with him...’

  Taking her face between his strong hands and wiping away her tears with his thumbs, he looked into her eyes with such intensity that she trembled beneath it. The hunger and the need that had been consuming him, unappeased for the time they had been apart, came to the fore. His mouth descended on hers, greedily devouring the soft, moist, inviting lips greedily. His arms were so tight around her that Arabella, almost swooning with joy, could feel his heart beating wildly against her. His kiss was fierce and hungry.

  As the passion within them was rekindled and deepened, Edward tore his mouth from hers and, with his lips close to her cheek, he whispered, in a hoarse, almost inaudible voice, passionate endearments, only stopping to cover her eyes, her cheeks and her lips with kisses.

  When the wave of passion lessened, remembering where they were, Arabella pulled back in his arms and gazed up at him, her eyes wide and soft, her lips swollen and rosy pink from his kiss.

  ‘Night and day I have relived that day we spent together,’ he murmured, his eyes warm with love.

  ‘I have thought of it, too,’ she murmured. Thinking back to that wonderful day when they had laid down on the forest floor, the smell and the sound of the rustling leaves mingled with the taste of Edward and the sound and feel of her own pleasure, looking up at the treetops afterwards, thinking she had never been so happy. She looked at Edward now, met his eyes and knew he was reliving it, too.

  When he would have kissed her again, she placed two fingers on his lips and shook her head slowly.

  ‘Please, Edward, stop now. There is something else I have to tell you and if you continue to kiss me I will be so weakened I will not be able to.’