by Louise Clark
“And so you think that they would have left me alone while the rest of the neighborhood was thoroughly searched.” Philip’s expression was sardonic. “I see you have a very poor opinion of the care taken by the Lord Protector’s servants.”
“Roundheads are given preferential treatment in the Lord Protector’s realm,” Alysa burst out. Her lovely blue eyes were marked with the evidence of too much worry and not enough sleep, but like her parents she was impressively garbed in a gown of violet with a petticoat of ice blue. “With your family connections it is most likely that you would be safe.” She paused for a fraction of a second before adding deliberately, “Unless they identified you as the unknown champion who deprived them of their pray last night.”
Philip looked at her sharply, his expression at first surprised, then guarded.
There was an uneasy silence until Abigail said, “Do sit down, Sir Philip. Would you like some refreshments?”
Philip sat, but he declined the refreshments.
Lord Strathern considered Philip a moment before he said heavily, “I do not think it is wise to speak of last night any more than is necessary, but I must ask, Sir Philip, why were you there? To my knowledge you were not invited. As well, I wish to know how you discovered the time and date of the meeting.”
The blank expression Alysa had seen several times before fell over Philip’s features as he considered his reply. “If I may, I’ll answer your second question first, Lord Strathern. I learned that Thomas Leighton would be visiting England and the date of his arrival from a conversation overheard in the village. Two ladies talking. Loudly, I might add.”
Strathern nodded morosely. “I was afraid of that. I suspect that is how the Protectorate learned of it too.”
“As to my reason for being there.” Philip shrugged. “I guessed that if I had overheard, others might too. Through hard experience I have learned that it is always best to expect the worst. I thought, rightly it turned out, that you just might need the assistance of the unexpected.”
Lord Strathern’s eyes bored into Philip’s. At last Strathern spoke, apparently satisfied with what he saw. “I thank you for your assistance, Sir Philip. Without it I fear that the situation might have ended differently. Now tell me about your visit from the infernal Roundhead, Weston.”
“The man made threats. Dangerous threats.” Philip glanced deliberately at the ladies.
Strathern frowned once more. “You have been out of the country, Sir Philip. No doubt exile has little to recommend it, but I promise you, living under the tyranny of Cromwell’s dictatorship has less.”
“Papa!”
He waved Alysa’s instinctive protest aside, and although he answered her, his eyes were fixed probingly on Philip’s face. “My dear, there comes a time when a man must speak out, no matter what the consequences. I gather Sir Philip has seen for the first time how the Lord Protector’s troops treat England’s citizens. I’ll wager it was something of a shock, was it not, Hampton?”
Philip looked at him ruefully. “More than a shock, Strathern, a revelation.” A faint smile curled his lips. “I fear I reacted not as a cowed civilian might, but as an officer with an insubordinate trooper would.”
Strathern raised his brows in cool question, although amusement warmed his eyes.
“I threatened to horsewhip Weston and do certain, er, other things to his person that he would not like. He left my property in a great hurry.”
“That may not have been wise, Sir Philip,” Abigail said kindly. “The military has been allowed to do pretty well what it pleases since Cromwell took power. Your officer will not like being dressed down, especially by a Royalist landowner.”
With surprising fierceness, Philip said, “With all due respect, ma’am, whether the lieutenant liked it or not, he deserved the snub I gave him.” He turned to Lord Strathern. “If we stand together, Strathern, we can defeat this riffraff.”
“Yes, we could,” Strathern said softly. His eyes were watchful, but approval glowed within their depths. “You have seen firsthand what we have borne these last ten years, Sir Philip, but you must understand what you are suggesting.”
Philip raised his brows questioningly. “And what is that?”
“Rebellion.”
“Papa,” Alysa said again, softly, pleadingly.
Strathern indicated her with a nod of his head. “You see what happens when that word is used, Hampton. Our women cringe, even as daring a soul as my daughter here. We have seen enough of the results of rebellion here in England.”
“And so you lie down like dogs and wait to be kicked?”
“Sir Philip!” Abigail said, shocked.
“Shame!” cried Alysa, jumping to her feet. She went to stand in front of Philip, who had stood as soon as she had. She looked up into his eyes, her own glittering fiercely. “There are none who would like to see the Protector overthrown more than the people of West Easton. We have been loyal to the monarchy since the war began and the Protector and his barbarians have not hesitated to try to show us the error of our ways. But we have not broken! No, no matter what was done to us, we have kept our secrets. And we will continue to do so. So do not think that we are submitting to the tyranny of the current regime, for we are not. What we are doing is appearing to submit and you will find, Sir Philip, that there is a vast difference between the two!”
Philip drew a deep breath. His features were taut with unexpressed emotion. “I beg your pardon, Lord Strathern. I will relieve you of my company.” He bowed politely. “I came today merely to warn you that troops are in the area and are seeking your son. You may rest assured that I gave them no information.”
As he was about to leave, Strathern said coldly, “A moment, Hampton.”
Philip turned slowly. He looked from Strathern, straight and formidable, to Alysa, still stiff with her defiance, her lovely face glowing with spirit.
“Yes?”
“Did Lieutenant Weston mention that the man they sought was my son?”
A faint smile curled Philip’s lips. “No, Lord Strathern, he did not. To my knowledge the troops do not know the name of the man they are seeking, or else they would have taken you into custody before now. I learned the identity of the Royalist emissary four days ago, along with the date and time of his arrival, in a shop in the village, as I mentioned earlier.” A grim amusement colored his voice. “If you plan to indulge in this sort of conspiracy in the future, I suggest you strive for a degree of confidentiality when you make your plans, sir.” With that parting shot, he bowed again and turned once more to leave.
“How dare you!” Alysa flared at his retreating back.
Philip didn’t acknowledge her passionate outburst, but at the doorway he paused. “I dare, Mistress Leighton, because I care.”
He was gone before anyone in the family could think of a reply.
Chapter 7
There was complete silence in the shabby parlor after Philip walked out.
“Well, well,” Lord Strathern said at last, his voice thoughtful. “What do you make of that?”
His question was addressed to both his wife and daughter. It was Abigail who answered first. “I would not have thought that a man used to being at court would speak so—bluntly.”
“Perhaps not, but an honest man, angry at an injustice he does not expect, would.” Strathern nodded his head. “I like the way Hampton handles himself. He has a care for his tenants, he is decisive, but not imperious, and he acts without asking how he will be rewarded. Most of all,” Strathern shot a serious look at Alysa, “I think he is a match for my headstrong daughter.”
“Papa,” Alysa said, a little breathlessly. “I hardly know the man! Indeed, you asked me to find out what I could about him, and I have learned nothing! Oh, he speaks of what is inconsequential, but he does not discuss the important things.”
“Such as what? Think carefully, Alysa! If the man is not what he purports to be I must warn the people of West Easton of his duplicity. The townspeople will
not be kind to Sir Philip. He will find his life at Ainslie to be a lonely one.” Strathern paused, then added heavily, “If you are wrong in your assessment, you will be condemning an innocent man.”
Alysa bit her lip. She thought of Philip Hampton, risking his freedom, perhaps his very life, to save her from the Roundhead trooper the night before, of the way his eyes sparkled with an inner amusement while his lips remained serious, of the way he looked at her, with a masculine appreciation that was both frank and respectful. Then she thought of those moments of careful blankness when she had caught him off guard, and the way he spoke smooth nothings when asked about his life on the Continent or of his political beliefs.
Was he the Royalist brother or the Roundhead?
Should she condemn him to be ostracized by the people of West Easton because she wondered why his expression would hide his thoughts at some moments? Was that enough reason to denounce a man? But with Thomas in England, and in danger, could she afford to give Sir Philip Hampton the benefit of the doubt?
Alysa felt the weight of her father’s eyes watching her expression as she considered what she should say, but she did not rush into speech. Her decision was too important to be made lightly. “Papa, I deem Sir Philip to be a just and honorable man. I do not believe that he was the one who betrayed Thomas’s arrival to the troops, but I do not know him well enough to say whether you should admit him to your councils.”
Edward sighed and sat down beside his wife on the sofa. “I grow tired of this constant mistrust. It should be enough that a man is honorable and upright. Why must we always be questioning which side he is on?”
Abigail patted him on the hand. “I believe you have answered yourself, husband. A just man would not betray a friend. If you have decided Sir Philip is such a man, then you must, perforce, trust him.”
Her husband blew gustily through his lips. “My dear, an excellent point! I believe Sir Philip would be a valuable addition to our organization. He has qualities we need and he will bring a fresh viewpoint to our discussions.”
Alysa’s uneasiness continued. “Are you sure, Papa? With Thomas in England, is it not dangerous to admit a new member at this time?”
She waited nervously, half hoping her father would dismiss her remark as nothing more than silly female fears. When he did not answer right away, she felt her heart sink.
“You have a good point, my dear. Thomas is vulnerable. There is a traitor somewhere in West Easton, and as Sir Philip pointed out, to date our security has been lamentable. It could have been virtually anyone in the village or the surrounding area who alerted the authorities of Thomas’s arrival, including Sir Philip himself. But,” Strathern added emphatically, “I do not think it was Philip Hampton who did the foul deed. My sense of the man makes me believe that he would not have flown to our rescue last night or shown himself here today if he had betrayed us the night before.”
“Then you are decided,” Alysa said, relief flooding her.
“The king needs new supporters, Alysa, especially now. If he does decide to return we will require all the loyal men we can muster to follow him. As to the danger to Thomas, this is a good time, not a bad one, to involve a man of Sir Philip’s qualities. I would like his opinion on whether or not a rebellion would be successful, should we be able to raise the men and supplies. He will be able to add a great deal to our deliberations.”
“I suppose I need not encourage him any longer?” Disappointment colored Alysa’s voice.
Her father caught the sound and smiled. “Only if you choose not to.”
Alysa wandered over to a carved table set against the wall. There she fiddled with the wax tapers fixed in plain pewter candlesticks, straightening them when they needed no straightening. Her back was to her family as she considered what she should do. After a long minute she turned, her face set. “Cedric Ingram has come to believe that I am his for the asking. If I continue to invite Sir Philip’s attentions Cedric will assume I prefer our new neighbor to him. He will be jealous.”
“A little jealousy would not do Cedric Ingram any harm,” Abigail said calmly, glancing at Alysa with a small smile. “You are a lovely young lady, Alysa. I have always thought it a shame that there are so few gentlemen of quality in the neighborhood. You deserve to have men tilting with each other for your token. Master Ingram must realize that there is no legal tie between you and that he has no claim on you until there is.”
Alysa felt a pang of sympathy as she listened to her stepmother. Abigail had never had the opportunity she had just wished Alysa could have, and obviously she regretted it. She had been all of four and twenty when she had come from a tiny hamlet in the north to care for the son and daughter of her recently widowed cousin, Edward, Lord Strathern. Their marriage not long after had been a match of convenience that had grown into a close, loving bond. But Abigail had not had the opportunity to pick and choose from among many suitors. Evidently, no matter how happy her marriage was, that lingered in her mind as one of life’s cheats.
Strathern added his support to his wife’s. “If Ingram makes a fuss, leave him to me, my dear. Do what your heart tells you you must regarding Sir Philip. You have our support in whatever you decide.”
A sweet and very beautiful smile bloomed on Alysa’s face. “Thank you, both! Yes, I would like Sir Philip to continue his courtship. Perhaps nothing will come of it, but….” She laughed, a happy, free sound. “We will see what the future brings.”
*
The woods were very still on this dark, brooding night. Philip Hampton thought about the message he had received, which had been more of a command that he appear in the little copse at the top of the rise at midnight than a request for a meeting. The demand had saved him from contacting Osborne himself, for he wanted the London man to know that he would not put up with Lieutenant Weston terrorizing the people of West Easton.
As was his custom he arrived at the meeting place well ahead of time. The property was his, the woods were his and he had no intention of letting Osborne have the run of them because he couldn’t bestir himself to arrive early.
Heavy clouds covered the moon, almost obscuring the path to the top of the hill. Within the undergrowth there were few sounds. Philip reflected that the wild animals respected the portents of a storm to come and had retreated to the safety of their lairs. Only rash humans were abroad tonight, and few of them at that.
He waited in the shadows, absently stroking the nose of his horse while he listened for the sound of Osborne’s arrival. He was wearing the warm buff coat that branded him as a military man, the same coat he’d worn on the night of Thomas Leighton’s arrival. The leather was soft and well-worn. If Lord Strathern or his daughter had seen it close up, they would have questioned why a man who had spent the past few years at a courtin-exile would possess such an unfashionable, but obviously well-used garment. At midnight on a blustery spring night, Philip welcomed the insulating quality of the coat and didn’t care about what people might think.
Time passed and the scent of moisture in the air grew stronger. He judged they would be in for a storm soon and if Osborne didn’t hurry up they would both be caught in it.
Some twenty minutes after the time arranged Osborne did finally arrive. He was dressed in his usual black doublet and breeches. The garments helped him blend in with the shadows and gave him the appearance of a creature of the night. Beneath a broad-brimmed black hat, his face was a blur of pale, frowning features. “These damn woods are blacker than Hades itself! I lost my way a dozen times before I found the path! Damned country life. Next time we meet, we’ll do it in some more civilized place.”
“Such as at the inn where you are staying?” Philip suggested sardonically, his control a strong contrast to Osborne’s irritation. “That would be perfect. Then all of the area would hear that the Puritan from London is meeting with the foreigner who lives at Ainslie.”
Osborne stiffened and his voice grew cautious. “I’m not staying in West Easton.”
“I
know that,” Philip shot back. He was regretting his sarcasm, for Sir Edgar Osborne was an astute man, quick to pick up nuances other men would miss. “West Easton doesn’t have an inn to speak of. However, I know you must be within a short ride of the town or you would not be able to keep such a close watch on events.”
“Very true.” Osborne smiled, apparently satisfied that Philip didn’t know the location of his hideaway. One of the absurdities of this whole episode, in Philip’s mind, was Osborne’s insistence that his headquarters be a secret.
It wasn’t. Within a few days of arriving at Ainslie, Philip had decided that the more he knew about Sir Edgar Osborne, the safer he would be. So he had followed the Londoner back to his lair one evening. Osborne was staying at a decrepit inn a few miles outside of West Easton. Since the war the place had fallen on hard times, though it had never been a very prosperous or respectable inn.
Built in a sturdy post-and-beam construction, the inn had strong walls, but the foundation had shifted and the roof was in dire need of repair. Whitewash and paint had not been applied to the exterior in some time and here and there the protective coating had peeled away to expose the bare wood beneath. A ramshackle stable abutted one side of the building, which was longer than it was wide. This created a vague sort of a courtyard, where guests of the establishment would leave their horses or carriages and expect a servant to deal with them.
On the night that Philip had followed him, he had watched Osborne shout for a groom to tend to his horse, but the hour was late and whatever servants the place could afford had long since gone to bed. Philip had found it rather satisfying to see the imperious Osborne forced to tend to his own mount.
“Enough of this talk of inns,” Osborne continued firmly, unaware of Philip’s thoughts. “I want a report on what you’ve discovered so far. You missed a fine opportunity when you did not warn me that Thomas Leighton was arriving two nights ago.”