The Smallest Man

by Frances Quinn

  Henry was ready to marry; on nights when we’d both taken too much ale, he’d often told me that when the war was over, he wanted to settle down and have a family. He wasn’t in love with Arabella, but he’d always seen her as a challenge, and Henry liked a challenge. It wouldn’t be difficult to put the idea into his head.

  * * *

  My chance came when the queen held a ball at Merton College, where we were staying. Henry and I were sharing a room, and as we got dressed for the evening, I said I had something to ask him.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked, bending down to adjust the buckle on his boot.

  ‘Will you ask Arabella to dance with you?’

  He looked up, laughing.

  ‘And get my head snapped off? Why would I do that?’

  ‘She asked me if I thought you would. It seemed to me she wanted you to.’

  ‘Are you sure you didn’t dream this, Nat? Arabella thinks I’m an idiot who can’t tell tripe from treacle. You may recall she said as much the other day.’

  It was true, she’d said exactly that, after Henry had ventured to suggest book learning was overrated, and parents would do better to let their sons spend more time hunting and riding. But that was just Arabella; she was like that with everyone, and if she was more so with Henry, that must be to cover up the fact that she was sweet on him.

  ‘Perhaps I’ve got it wrong,’ I said. ‘Forget I mentioned it.’

  ‘But did it seem as though she wanted me to ask?’

  ‘I thought so, yes. But I probably shouldn’t have said. Don’t mention it to her, will you?’

  * * *

  Of course it worked. As soon as we entered the room, Henry scanned the crowd, looking for her. But I saw her first. She had her back to us and someone had done something clever with her hair, twisting it up at the back of her head so it looked as though it was long again. There were pearls threaded through it and she was wearing a dress of pale cream satin. She must have borrowed it from Susan, who was about her height but plumper; the neckline was a bit loose and it hung down a little, exposing the pure white skin at the top of her back. When she turned and saw us, I realised I’d been holding my breath.

  Henry was clever. He didn’t try to flirt, the way he usually would with a woman he was interested in. He knew that wouldn’t get him anywhere with her. But he was attentive – he fetched her drinks, pointed out foods she might like on the table, opened a window when she said she was too warm. She made a face at me then, as if to ask what he was up to, but I looked away.

  When he asked her to dance, she shook her head and said she was a bad dancer. But he took her hand and she let him lead her onto the floor. I didn’t want to see, but I couldn’t look away.

  At first she was awkward, biting her lip as she concentrated on the steps. But Henry was one of the best dancers at Whitehall and he hadn’t lost his skills; with him guiding her she began to find her confidence, and by the end of the dance she was laughing with pleasure, her cheeks flushed and her eyes shining. They danced three times more, and by the third, I’d seen enough. I was sitting by myself in an anteroom, working my way through a jug of claret, when she came and flopped down beside me.

  ‘There you are,’ she said. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’

  I ignored the way my heart flipped over when she said that. It doesn’t mean what you want it to mean.

  ‘I thought you were dancing,’ I said.

  ‘Was I terrible?’ she asked.

  ‘No. Not at all.’

  ‘I had no idea it could be so much fun. At home, the men were such clodhoppers. But it’s different when your partner knows what they’re doing – it feels like flying.’

  ‘You dance very well together, you and Henry.’

  ‘Well, Henry dances well – I just followed as best I could.’ She nudged me and smiled. ‘Don’t tell him I said that though, he’s conceited enough already.’

  I poured myself another cup of claret and took a deep gulp to give myself a reason not to answer. It was starting to go to my head, but I didn’t care.

  ‘Are you all right, Nat?’ she said. ‘You’re very quiet.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Do you… I mean, it can’t be very nice, watching everyone else dance and not being able to join in.’

  She was sorry for me. If I’d been miserable watching Arabella and Henry together, it was nothing to hearing those words. I wanted her to love me, not pity me.

  I slammed down the cup and stood. The room reeled around me.

  ‘Who says I can’t join in?’

  I marched into the hall and looked around. In the far corner, Bonbon was perched on a cushion. Making sure people saw me, I stalked across, bowed deeply, and said:

  ‘Would you allow me this dance?’

  There were giggles behind me as I picked her up. She gave an irritable growl but let me carry her onto the floor. I joined onto the end of the row of dancers; they were all watching now, some looking puzzled, others already laughing. Holding Bonbon under her front paws, I skipped up the line, whirled her round and skipped back again, holding my head high and keeping a straight face, to make people laugh all the more. By the time the dance finished and I placed my partner on the floor and bowed to her, the entire room was looking on and laughing.

  ‘Bravo, Nathaniel,’ said the queen, wiping tears from her eyes. ‘And Bonbon, where did you learn to dance so well?’

  As I left the room, people were saying how comical I was and how I used to make the court laugh back in the Whitehall days. But Arabella wasn’t laughing; she looked at me as though she’d never seen me before. I’d wanted to make her see she needn’t feel sorry for me, but all I’d done was show her I was a little clown, there to entertain like any other freak.

  My head was spinning – the claret and the whirling around hadn’t been a good combination – and I had to squint one eye to see properly. Arabella called my name but I ignored her and made for the door. Outside, I took a deep breath of the cool night air to try to steady my head, but it was too late. I puked the evening’s drink onto the grass, splashing my boots with blackcurrant-coloured liquid.

  ‘Nat Davy, Honorary Captain of Horse,’ I said quietly. ‘Just look at you now.’

  * * *

  The next morning my head was throbbing, and to try and clear it, I went for a walk along the river. Sunlight glittered on the water and trees threw dappled shade across the path. The turquoise flash of a kingfisher skimmed the air, and I sat down to watch it catching its breakfast. I’d been trying to block out the memory of the night before, but as I sat there watching the river flow past, I couldn’t stop the thoughts any longer. I’d been an idiot. I’d set out to get Henry and Arabella together, but when I saw them, I lost control and acted like a fool. Because, in my heart, I hadn’t really accepted that to keep her, I had to lose her.

  Well, I told myself, it’s time to make up your mind: risk her disappearing from your life for ever, or get used to seeing her as another man’s wife. I tried to imagine life without her and what I saw was a long, dusty road, with no destination in sight and nothing to see along the way. A life without any colour in it.

  It would hurt to see her with Henry; I was in no doubt about that now. But I’d take that over the thought of never seeing her at all.

  Chapter Forty-one

  All that summer, it looked as though things were going to go the king’s way. The men and arms we’d brought with us injected new spirit into his forces, and shortly after we arrived, they took the city of Bristol, snatching the valuable port right out of the other side’s hands. Exeter, Bath and Dartmouth fell to our army too, and when I went to see Sam at his barracks, he told me they barely had room for all the new recruits who’d abandoned Parliament and come over to what looked like the winning side.

  ‘Looks like I swapped just in time,’ he said. ‘Everyone says the tide’s turning our way now.’

  ‘Let’s hope so.’

  ‘I reckon you’ll be back in Lon
don by Christmas,’ he said. ‘So if you stop dragging your feet and get things settled with that Arabella, you could be married in the spring. Give us a cousin for Lucy.’

  ‘I’ve told you before, she’s not interested in me. As a matter of fact, I think there’s a good chance she’ll marry Henry.’

  His eyes widened as I explained my plan.

  ‘You say I gave you this idea?’

  ‘Yes – you said you got work on the farm where Sarah was, so you could see her.’

  ‘But I didn’t try and get her to marry someone else, did I? I always thought you were the clever one, Nat, but that’s got to be the stupidest thing anyone’s ever done.’

  * * *

  I don’t know why I even told him; I should have known he wouldn’t understand. Arabella marrying Henry was the only way I could be sure of not losing her completely, so as the summer rolled on, I did everything I could to push them together. After the ball I continued to drop hints to Henry that Arabella was keen on him; a remark she’d made, a look I’d seen. He was intrigued, as I’d known he would be. Henry was used to women falling for him and making no secret of it. The idea that Arabella had been hiding her true feelings all along fascinated him, and he was determined to charm her into showing them. Then I started hinting that others were paying court to her. Henry loved a competition, and the prospect of a rival or two only increased his interest.

  And yet, if Arabella noticed, it didn’t show. She continued to tease him as she’d always done and snap at him if he said something stupid, and any attempts at compliments were dealt with just as they’d been when we were on the road, with a roll of her eyes and a sarcastic reply. I wasn’t looking forward to the day when she did show her feelings for him, but at the same time, I was puzzled. I’d always been sure she hid those feelings because she didn’t think they were returned, but couldn’t she see that now was her chance? If she didn’t give him some encouragement soon, Henry might get fed up and the whole plan would fall to pieces.

  In the end, I asked her. It had been a rainy week and we’d all been cooped up inside the college. When the sun finally came out one afternoon, she asked me to go with her to collect some fabric from the shops, and I made up my mind to do it then.

  Over the months, we’d had long conversations on all kinds of subjects, but this time, I struggled to get round to what I wanted to say. We talked about the war, about another ball the queen was planning, and about Arabella’s father and brothers, who she’d visited that morning – the hapless Ed had just become engaged to the sister of a fellow soldier, and though Arabella was pleased for him, the pleasure was bittersweet, because her mother wasn’t there to see it. But by the time we reached the shops, I still hadn’t found a subtle way to broach the subject of her and Henry. So I decided to do what she always did when she wanted to know something: just ask.

  ‘If Henry asked you to marry him, would you say yes?’ I said.

  ‘What?’

  She stopped and looked down at me.

  ‘Henry. Would you marry him?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I think Henry’s in love with you.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Nat. Henry flirts with everyone.’

  ‘I’m serious. You must have seen it.’

  She rolled her eyes, and sighed.

  ‘All right, yes, he’s been acting oddly lately. But that’s just because things are different here. You know, court manners or whatever they call it.’

  ‘It isn’t that. I know him and—’

  ‘Well, I don’t think so, but anyway, no.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t marry Henry if he asked me. I’ve told you before, I’m not interested in him in that way.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  I hadn’t meant to say that; her reply just took me by surprise. As soon as the words came out of my mouth, her face told me it would have been better if they hadn’t.

  ‘Oh, you don’t?’ she said. ‘I suppose you think I should just accept any offer and be glad of it, in case I don’t get another one?’

  ‘No, of course not. But you could do a lot worse than Henry. And I thought… well, I’ve always thought you were keen on him.’

  ‘And I told you I wasn’t. I told you plain as day, ages ago, and I’ve just told you again. You might be the smallest man in England, Nat, but sometimes I think you’re the biggest idiot. Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll do my errands by myself.’

  She stalked into the shop, and slammed the door behind her.

  * * *

  After that, she started acting differently with Henry. Where once she’d have cut him off with a scathing remark if he told too many boring hunting stories, now she listened patiently. She laughed at his jokes, even the feeble ones, and complimented him when he wore a new pair of boots, instead of calling him vain like she used to. The conversation had done what I intended it to, and I supposed she really hadn’t believed Henry was doing more than flirting before. What I couldn’t understand was why she was so cross that I’d guessed her secret; she barely talked to me in the days after that conversation, and nothing I did made her laugh anymore. One day, she noticed me watching as she bent forward to pluck a piece of fluff from his coat, and gave a funny little shrug, as if to say, ‘So what? Now you know.’

  It wasn’t long before Henry confided in me that he was thinking about asking Arabella to marry him. The funny thing was that he’d become less infatuated with her since she’d begun responding to his advances – Henry always did enjoy the thrill of the chase – but instead, he’d come to see this new, strangely compliant Arabella as exactly what he wanted in a wife.

  ‘She was always a bit argumentative for my taste,’ he said. ‘But perhaps she’d just been overindulged at home – all that business with the lessons, and dressing up like a boy. I think she’s realised now, it’s not the way to carry on.’

  I didn’t think that at all. I didn’t believe she’d really changed; she was just playing a game, like other women did. It surprised me, but then, I knew as well as anyone, people did strange things for love.

  Chapter Forty-two

  For the king and queen, that would be the last golden summer. By autumn, the Parliamentarian army had a new leader, an East Anglian general called Cromwell, and while at first our side laughed at stories of his bluff way of speaking, and called him ‘potato face’, it was soon clear that under his leadership their forces had gained a backbone of steel. Through the winter, our strongholds around the country fell one after the other, and by spring, the mood at court was fearful. If the Parliamentarians marched on Oxford, it was by no means clear that our forces could keep them out, and if they got in, there would be no mercy – not for the king and queen, and not for anyone who’d been on their side.

  By then, the king and queen’s reunion had produced its natural result: she was expecting another child. This time the pregnancy was difficult, and made more so because she’d been ill for months, with terrible rheumatic pains in her arms and legs. So when the other side began to close in, the king insisted she had to leave Oxford, to keep herself and their baby safe. It went without saying that we’d go with her, and Henry decided to wait no longer.

  ‘I’m going to see Arabella’s father today,’ he told me at breakfast one morning. ‘If he gives permission, I’ll ask her tonight.’

  I spent that morning wandering round the city on my own. I couldn’t tell you what I saw or heard; I’m not sure I’d have noticed if the entire Parliamentarian army had marched in and seized the place. I kept squashing down a small and stupid hope that Arabella’s father would refuse his permission, though there was no reason for him to, and if he had, he’d have prevented the very thing I’d been scheming to bring about.

  Of course he didn’t refuse. He said the match was a good one but the decision was Arabella’s. Henry planned to ask her to walk in the college gardens after dinner, and I didn’t even let myself hope she’d say no. I left the hall as ear
ly as I could – Henry’s uncharacteristic nervousness was making me want to hit him – and went to my room.

  I’d been lying on my bed, listening to rats scratching in the roof, for about an hour, when there was a knock on the door. Henry, come to share his triumph. Pretending to be asleep would only put off the moment, so I sat up, but before I even got off the bed, there was another knock. It sounded tentative for Henry, who usually rapped on doors as though he was trying to make a hole in them. The thought – all right, the hope – flickered through my mind that perhaps she’d said no, and that was why he was less ebullient than usual. I got up to open the door.

  ‘Can I come in?’ said Arabella.

  I was so surprised that I couldn’t think of a word to say. She sat down on the bed and I stood in front of her, not really sure what else to do.

  ‘I wanted to talk to you,’ she said, not looking at me. She fiddled with her gloves for a bit, half taking one off, then putting it back on again, and then she looked up. ‘You know… I expect you know… Henry’s asked me to marry him?’

  ‘I knew that was his plan, yes.’

  She took both gloves off again, and folded them in her lap. It seemed to take her a long time to be satisfied that they were folded quite right.

  ‘This is very difficult,’ she said eventually. ‘I think I’d better start again. What I meant to say first was I’m sorry I haven’t been very nice to you lately. It was just… I don’t know, I think I might have misunderstood when you asked me if I’d marry Henry.’