REBEL HEART
BY
MARINA OLIVER
Elinor is bored with her quiet life in Norfolk with her aunt and uncle, waiting until she can marry Francis, a captain in George I's army.
Though she looks forward to the marriage she worries about the probable disapproval of her brother Kit.
If, that is, he is still alive. He has been fighting for the Jacobites, now defeated and driven from the country. Kit, however, has not been heard of and could be dead, perished on the battlefield. Either that or he is now a fugitive.
When a mysterious stranger arrives claiming he carries messages from Kit she dare not believe him, especially as he says Kit wants her to go with him to France.
Saying he has promised Kit to bring her, Sir Talbot Carr carries her off, and they find the journey far from easy.
Rebel Heart
By Marina Oliver
Copyright © 2016 Marina Oliver
The moral right of the author has been asserted
Cover Design by Debbie Oliver
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any form, including digital and electronic or mechanical, without the prior written consent of the Publisher, except for brief quotes for use in reviews.
Print edition first published 1985 by Robert Hale
See details of other books by Marina Oliver at
http:/www.marina-oliver.net
AUTHOR NOTE
After any battle when an army is scattered, there are many fugitives trying to evade capture by the victorious enemy. They will be attempting to return to their homes, or to rejoin the retreating remnants of the defeated army. Some may be injured, and they cannot trust anyone.
REBEL HEART
BY MARINA OLIVER
Chapter 1
Elinor ran swiftly across the village green, past the children playing near the pond. The westerly sun still shone brightly in a cloudless sky though the heat of the day had partly abated. Aunt Theodora would scold her if she were late for supper.
At the thought Elinor cast an apprehensive look at her bundle. Aunt Theodora would disapprove of the bright salmon pink satin she had chosen for her new gown, even though it was such a pretty shade and would suit her to perfection. Bright colours set off her dusky curls and vivid blue eyes better than did the browns and greys her aunt favoured, and she wanted to look her best when Francis visited them tomorrow. From the heavily jocular hints Uncle Edward had let fall it was clear that an offer of marriage would be forthcoming, and her aunt and uncle approved.
She turned into the yard of the Red Bull. There was no one about. If the stable lads were at their supper it was even later than she had supposed. She entered the stables and paused, unable for a moment to see her way in the gloomy interior. Then a giggle followed by a deeper voice made Elinor flush angrily. Rosa was too aggravating, flirting indiscriminatingly with stable lads, farm hands and soldiers.
'Rosa!' she called sharply. 'Have the ponies been saddled ?'
There was a scuffle, and as Elinor's eyes became accustomed to the dim light she saw the maidservant emerge from a loose box at the end of the row, adjusting the neck of her gown, then brushing wisps of hay from her skirts.
'Aye, Mistress Elinor, long since,' she said pertly, leading two ponies past her mistress. Elinor followed her into the yard, then looked back to see a tall, dark man, broad shouldered and with long, shapely legs, lounging against the doorpost. With a slight shock she realised that the luxuriant dark locks, carefully tied back, and the sword visible under the flared skirts of his coat, did not belong to a man of the lower orders. She frowned. Rosa was foolhardy to become entangled with such a man. Unlike her rustic swains a gentleman could not be forced to marry her when, as seemed inevitable, the results of her dalliance became obvious.
He was handsome, Elinor admitted, with deep-set eyes under well-shaped brows, a firm straight nose, determined chin, and full lips that were parted now in a smile of amusement. He was presumably some traveller who had decided he would be unable to reach Norwich that day.
Elinor glanced at him contemptuously and swung on her heel. She took the reins of Trusty, her own pony, and was leading him across to the mounting block when a deep, musical voice spoke at her side.
'Permit me, Mistress,' the stranger said, and as she turned to deliver a curt snub Elinor found herself swept into his arms, clasped tightly to his chest for a few moments until, with a laugh, he swung her into the saddle.
'How dare you!' Elinor stormed, glaring at him, her cheeks flushed and her heart pounding at the sudden close contact.
'I'm always ready to assist a beautiful armful,' he replied, chuckling.
His eyes were level with her own, and Elinor was unable to tear her gaze away from his penetrating look. His lips smiled, but his eyes were cool and calculating, and she suddenly shivered.
'You are impertinent!' she managed, kicking Trusty and jerking on the reins as she finally turned away from that disconcerting scrutiny. Elinor urged Trusty into a canter and Rosa followed her home, casting apprehensive glances at her mistress and scuttling away as soon as old Jake took the ponies from them.
Elinor, still ruffled, entered the parlour to make her excuses for being so late. To her surprise Aunt Theodora did not scold, but smiled understandingly.
'Of course, and you doubtless wished to have the gown for tomorrow. Come, eat now, and you shall show it to me later.'
Her affability was somewhat shaken when Elinor took the brightly coloured gown from its wrappings.
'Great heavens, child, you'll look like a peacock!' she exclaimed. 'What will Francis think?'
'He wears rich clothing himself sometimes,' Elinor said quickly. 'He's no Quaker even if his uncle did go to America with William Penn!'
For a moment she thought she had gone too far. Aunt Theodora pressed her lips tightly together and frowned. Mistress Dakers, although less extreme than the Quakers, fully approved of the abolition of what she called 'frills and flummeries' from the services in the village church, and the anti-papist views of the minister's long and tedious sermons.
Then she contrived a bleak smile. 'Many people cling to the old ways, not realising that sobriety in dress assists sobriety of behaviour. But you are both young, and I must confess the colour looks well on you,' she added grudgingly as Elinor held the gown in front of her. 'It would not do for a fairer girl. But put it away now and get out your sewing. You must finish hemming the sheets if you are to be ready soon to set up a home of your own.'
*
Elinor carried the gown up to her room, and frowned as she thought of the endless hems awaiting her. If only her aunt would permit her to embroider gaily patterned chair seats as her mother had. She blinked back sudden tears. Her parents had died of fever six years ago, and she was approaching her eighteenth birthday, but any recollection of them and the happy home they had given her and her brother still had the power to agitate her. The lack of news about Kit, who had left to join the Jacobites just before that fatal battle at Preston a year and a half earlier, had kept the wound of her loss open.
No one knew whether Kit was alive. For weeks after the battle Elinor had waited for news. King James, for so she thought of him despite her uncle's insistence that England no longer recognised the Stuarts, had escaped from Scotland into France, and Elinor prayed daily Kit had been equally fortunate. But if he had reached safety he had never sent word of it and after so long she was beginning to lose hope.
Deliberately she forced herself to think instead of Francis. The son of a neighbour, he had been particularly attentive during the past year, visiting them regularly whenever he was on leave from his duties as a soldier. Handsome, tall and dark with wide shoulders and powerful muscles, at five and twenty it was high time he took
a wife. His mother had been dropping hints to Aunt Theodora for some months now that his choice had fallen on Elinor.
She smiled as she bent over her hemming. It would be pleasant to have a home of her own. Francis spent most of his time in London and she was determined to persuade him to take her there rather than leave her in his mother's household. That would be worse than remaining with her aunt, for Mistress Merton had even stricter views than Aunt Theodora on the proper behaviour to be expected from a well-conducted young lady. Francis was less stern than his parents, and she was content to become his wife provided they could live away from Norfolk.
She was up early on the following morning. While Rosa helped her with the new gown Elinor scolded her for her behaviour the previous day.
'You behave too wantonly with men,' she warned.
Rosa giggled. 'I can take care o' they,' she boasted. 'Besides, we weren't doing nothin' wrong. Couldn't, expectin' you back any time,' she added regretfully.
'Then why hide away so? One day, Rosa, you'll regret being so free with your favours.'
'He were only askin' questions,' Rosa protested.
'Questions? What about?'
'People here'bouts. Said he were lookin' for an old friend but had lost the directions. Not anyone I knew of.'
'A ploy to engage your attention,' Elinor said scornfully. 'There, that will do. I've a ribbon the same colour, I'll tie my hair back with that.'
'You look lovely, Miss Elinor,' Rosa said. 'It's 'bout time Mr Merton made his offer.'
'Don't be impertinent!'
Rosa giggled again. 'Sorry, Miss, but us all think he's dallied long enough. If any other gentleman saw you Mr Merton'ld have to watch out!'
*
When Francis arrived the look in his eyes left Elinor in no doubt as to his admiration. He drank some wine and sampled the small honey cakes which, at her aunt's insistence, Elinor had made, before he begged permission to walk with her in the gardens.
'The roses are in full bloom,' Aunt Theodora said quickly. 'Take Francis to see them, my dear.'
Elinor, embarrassed, led Francis along a short flagged path edged with wallflowers and stocks and through an archway in a thick yew hedge. Beyond was an enclosed garden laid out in the Italian fashion where the scent of dozens of rose bushes lay heavily in the hot still air.
'Your aunt is tactful, permitting us to be alone,' Francis said, catching Elinor's hand in his.
'Yes, indeed,' she replied breathlessly. 'See this white rose, my uncle is very proud of it, it has bloomed excessively well this year!'
'It is lovely, but less so than you. Elinor, you must have guessed my purpose in coming today. It is high time I took a wife, a companion for me and a mother for my children. My father is old and dearly wishes for a grandson to carry on his name. And I have leisure now to pay you proper attention. I have your uncle's permission to ask you to be my wife. Dearest Elinor, will you accept me?'
She looked up into his eyes. There was a smile on his normally grave face as he returned her regard, and she thought how handsome he was when his expression relaxed.
'I – have great esteem for you, Francis,' she replied slowly.
'Then you accept?'
He took her hands in his and drew her towards him, an anxious expression on his face. She was unaccountably nervous.
'Yes, Francis. I will accept your offer, and I thank you for the honour you have done me.'
Francis smiled, a slow triumphant smile. He pulled Elinor towards him, and for a wild moment she wanted to struggle, recalling the closeness of the stranger at the Red Bull as he had lifted her onto her pony, then her fluttering heart calmed as Francis bent his head and kissed her briefly on the lips.
'You have made me the happiest of men,' he said softly. 'Shall we be wed before the summer is gone?'
'Do you return to London?'
'I must go next week for a month or so. Would that give you time to prepare your bride clothes and we could marry when I return?'
'Where shall we live?'
'In London when I am there. If I have to be absent naturally I would leave you in the care of my mother or your aunt, but I could not endure to be parted from you for too long!'
He kissed her again, a longer, more demanding kiss, and to her shame Elinor found herself wondering what the stranger's kisses were like and whether Rosa had experienced them. Firmly she dragged her errant thoughts back to Francis, and as they sat in the rose garden she questioned him eagerly about the life he led in London and his duties as an army captain.
'I've rooms near Bishop's Gate,' he told her. 'It is less noisy and dirty than much of the city, and on Sundays we can walk in the fields. Two fellow officers and their families live there also, their wives will be company for you. Later, if I leave the army, we could buy a small estate. I think you would like that? Now should we not inform your aunt and uncle of our happiness?'
Shyly she agreed, and while Uncle Edward bore Francis off to discuss settlements Aunt Theodora excitedly began to plan the wedding. She had no more time alone with Francis until just before he went, when Aunt Theodora made an excuse to leave the room for a moment.
'When shall I see you again?' she asked wistfully, aware of the many things not yet spoken of.
'Tomorrow I must ride to Norwich, but I will call on my return,' he promised.
Elinor smiled, thinking rapidly. Her aunt and uncle were planning to visit friends and would not be back until late. She could make an excuse not to go and at last would be able to ask the many questions there had yet been no time for.
*
By the time she retired to bed her head was reeling with all the tasks Aunt Theodora declared to be essential for a creditable bride. She had listened in dismay to the lists of the linen and clothing and cooking utensils she must prepare, and the receipts she must copy into her household book, a journal which until now she had maintained very perfunctorily. By the time Rosa was brushing her hair she was wishing passionately that she could marry Francis immediately and ride off to London without all this daunting preparation.
'The stranger be still at the Red Bull,' Rosa broke into her thoughts and Elinor frowned.
'Have you been flirting again?' she demanded, twisting round to look at the girl.
'I've been kept far too busy,' Rosa grumbled. 'Dan told us when he brought the fish. I wonder how long he's staying there?'
'Keep away from him,' Elinor warned. 'He's not the same as Ned and his friends, you wouldn't be able to have your own way as you appear to do with your local swains!'
'All men be the same without their – ' Rosa bit off her words, giggled, and went on hurriedly. 'Don't worry, Miss Elinor, you've more to think on, now.'
And that must be what kept her awake, Elinor thought after hours of restless tossing. It was the excitement of her betrothal, and yet whenever she tried to envisage Francis his features dissolved into those either of her brother or the arrogant stranger who had treated her so disrespectfully at the Red Bull. She could still feel his arms, firm and strong about her, and see his mocking face, his eyes glinting with something she could not name, but which had made her shiver at the time and still occupied her thoughts whenever she permitted herself to relax.
By morning, heavy eyed and racked by headache, there was no need for her to invent an excuse to remain at home. Sipping the tisane Aunt Theodora brought her she said that all she needed was sleep. After a few hours she woke again, better but with her dreams of the previous night still vivid in her mind.
Where was Kit, and why had he not sent a message if he had escaped? Others had, for many young men had gone to join the Stuarts, and were now living in exile in Holland or France. Uncle Edward was concerned for another reason, since Kit had sold all his lands before he left and no one knew where the money now was. If Kit were dead he wanted to claim the money on Elinor's behalf, to use as her dowry. Elinor suddenly realised she was about to wed one of Kit's enemies, and a faint stirring of doubt crept into her mind. He and Francis, al
though of an age, had never been especially close. Kit would not have approved of her choice. She sighed. He was no longer there and some day she would have to accept that he was dead.
She tried to think of Francis instead. She liked him, and looked forward to escaping from the irksome rule of her aunt, but did she love him? Aunt Theodora had once said love came after marriage, and surely Francis, young, brave and handsome, serious and thoughtful, and with a father who was comfortably off, if not so wealthy as her own father had been, was an excellent match.
Ashamed of mercenary thoughts she rose and dressed. Unable to settle to the eternal hemming she went out through the formal gardens and crossed the narrow bridge over the stream to wander in the cool shade of a coppice. Out of sight of the house she flung herself down on a mossy bank.
'Well met, Mistress,' a deep voice roused her from her reverie.
*
She sat up, startled, to find herself looking up at the stranger from the Red Bull.
'What – what are you doing here?' she demanded, rising to her feet and backing apprehensively away. He stood regarding her with a curious unfathomable expression in his dark eyes.
'I bring you a message, Mistress Dakers.'
'How do you know my name?'
He smiled reminiscently. 'Your maid is – shall I say persuadable?' he drawled. 'But do not blame her, I would have discovered it soon enough. I come from Kit,' he added abruptly.
'Kit! Then he lives! Where is he? Is he here in Norfolk? Oh, pray tell me!' she exclaimed, stepping towards him and holding out her hands, her eyes gleaming and her lips parted to show small white teeth.
'Softly,' he cautioned, approaching slowly and taking her hands in his, sending a shiver down her spine. 'He is in France. He dare not come to England, there is a price on his head.'
'France? But why has he sent no message before?'
'He did, but the man never returned. Before he could find another trustworthy man he had to go on various missions to Spain and Sweden, and was for some time incarcerated in a Spanish gaol.'
'Oh, poor Kit! Is he well?'
'He escaped at last, but is left with a recurring fever. I came on his behalf.'
'It is very good of you,' Elinor said breathlessly, suddenly aware of the fact that her hands were imprisoned in his, and he was looking down at her with a mixture of amusement and speculation in his dark, keen eyes. Hastily she tugged her hands free and stepped backwards.
Rebel Heart Page 1
