‘You don’t understand, Jane. Kit and I were married after he rescued me from Bedlam. We were to take ship to Barbados when the soldiers came. There was no escape. An hour later and we would have been gone!’
She looked up and saw the sympathy and confusion in her sister’s eyes.
‘Why didn’t you tell me that you were married?’ Jane asked.
Thamsine shook her head. ‘It didn’t seem important. What mattered was his hand.’
Jane took her sister’s hands in her frail grasp. ‘What will become of him?’
‘He … ’ Thamsine faltered, ‘ … he may hang.’
‘Your Captain is a good man, Thamsine. He pretends not to be, but in his heart he is a good man. I told him he should marry you and he did. You are free of Ambrose Morton now, and that is what matters … ’
Thamsine smiled. ‘No, Jane, you don’t understand. I didn’t marry Kit for that reason. I married him because I love him. I have loved him from the day we met.’
Her sister studied her face. ‘Then we must speak to Roger, get him the very best lawyer we can.’
She broke off, struggling for breath, her frail body wracked with coughing. Thamsine held her, holding a cloth to her lips, wiping away the bright blood. Gently, she laid her sister back on the bolsters.
‘Thamsine, I’m very tired … let me sleep a little. When I wake we can talk some more.’ Jane’s voice struggled with her breath.
Thamsine stood up and straightened the bolsters behind her sister’s head. As Jane sank back into them and closed her eyes, Thamsine sat down beside the bed, taking Jane’s hand in hers, overwhelmed by the depth of her emotions. Perhaps some of her strength would pass to Jane and she would recover.
Despite the years they had been apart, she could not imagine a life without her sister. How cruel to lose Jane just as she had found her again. Tears pricked her eyes and she choked them back, kissing her sister gently on the head.
The day slipped away and night had fallen before Jane woke. Thamsine stood at the window, her arms crossed in front of her body, staring out at the gloom. After the clear day, the stars burned brilliantly in the country air.
‘Thamsine?’ Jane’s voice made her turn. ‘Are you still here?’
Thamsine turned and gave her sister a weak smile. ‘I’m not going anywhere, Jane. My place is by your side for the moment. There is little I can do for Kit. You, on the other hand, need me.’
Jane tried to pull herself up in the bed. Thamsine was by her side, straightening the bolsters and assisting her. The door opened and Roger stood in the doorway, in his shirtsleeves, a candle in his hand.
‘How are you, my dear?’
‘I have slept a little,’ Jane replied. Her hand tightened on Thamsine’s. ‘Having Thamsine with me has eased the pain.’
‘Mary is coming with a little supper for you, my dear,’ Roger said. ‘Thamsine, would you care to join me in the parlour?’
Thamsine nodded. She felt tired, desperately tired, as the events of the long day caught up with her. She bent and kissed her sister.
‘I shall return after supper, Jane. Roger, I would like a cot made up in the closet so I can be near my sister should she need me at night.’
Roger nodded and stood aside as Thamsine passed him.
The table in the parlour had been set for two. Thamsine sank into a chair as Roger intoned a quick grace.
‘Where are the children?’ she asked.
‘They are with my mother in Colchester.’
‘Bring them home, Roger.’
‘Do you think that is wise?’
‘They should be with their mother. She needs them and they her.’
He nodded. ‘I will send for them in the morning and you, Thamsine, will you return to London?’
She shook her head and looked down at the frayed cuff of her old gown. She had almost forgotten that she was a wealthy woman and the wife of the heir to Viscount Midhurst. She was not going to be afraid anymore.
‘No, I shall stay here. I am tired of wearing rags and living my life in shadows, Roger. I am not going to run or hide anymore. Tomorrow you are to find the best lawyer my money can buy for my husband, and I shall find a tailor.’
~ * ~
Kit woke to the sound of the key turning in the lock. He sat up too fast, his right hand striking the wall behind him and his barely healed ribs pulling painfully. He subsided with a curse against the wall as a lantern shone in his eyes.
‘Is this him?’ he heard the turnkey ask.
‘This is him. Leave us.’
‘Thurloe!’ Kit recognised the voice. ‘Pleased with your work?’
Thurloe set the lantern down on the table. ‘For what it’s worth, Lovell, this was not my doing. One of your comrades suggested you may be found at The Ship Inn, and an enterprising young officer decided to see if, by any chance, you were foolish enough still to be in residence. The first I knew of it was when your wife arrived at my door.’
‘A few hours, Thurloe, and I would have been gone. Fate is a fickle mistress,’ Kit said bitterly.
‘It is,’ Thurloe agreed.
‘Have you come to take me out of here?’ Kit asked without hope.
‘There is nothing I can do,’ Thurloe replied. ‘Justice must now take its course.’
‘Justice?’ Kit spat the word. ‘You and I both know there’s no justice here!’
‘There will be a trial. We will constitute a special court to deal with the traitors.’
‘Not so much a case of justice being done, but of being seen to be done?’ Kit snarled.
‘It’s not as if any of you are innocent of the charges. I’ve seen the evidence. To a man, you are all quite guilty.’
Kit coughed and groaned, pressing his injured hand to his chest.
‘Do you need a doctor? I will send my personal physician to see to you.’ Thurloe actually looked concerned.
‘Don’t bother,’ Kit snorted contemptuously. ‘If I am seen to have your personal attentions it will arouse greater suspicion, will it not?’
‘Probably,’ Thurloe conceded, ‘but I want you to know that I wish there could have been some other way.’
‘You have a conscience, Thurloe? How touching. So I am to be tried?’
‘Yes. There is too much evidence against you. Your friends dig a deeper hole for you by the day.’
Kit looked away.
‘You have, of course, yet to be interrogated,’ Thurloe said.
‘I can hardly wait.’
‘It will go better for you if you admit your involvement.’
Kit looked up at Thurloe and gave a grim smile. ‘Will it, Thurloe? How will it go better for me?’
‘It may mean the difference between the noose, or … ’
‘Transportation to some godforsaken place as a slave, like my brother? A lifetime of a thousand deaths? How is that better? All I want is my freedom, Thurloe. God help me, I earned it.’
Thurloe’s cold eyes rested on his face. ‘You’re a card player, Lovell. There are no certainties in life except death.’ Thurloe replaced his hat on his head and turned to go.
Kit looked at his back.
‘Thurloe, if nothing else, will you see that my brother is released?’
‘I will even have him returned to England.’
‘Thank you.’
Thurloe stopped in the doorway and, without looking around, said quietly. ‘Admit your involvement, Lovell.’
‘And?’
‘I will not make any promises, but deny the charges and you will certainly hang.’
~ * ~
The cold grey walls of the Tower of London loomed above the foetid moat. Trying hard to control her trembling hands, Thamsine raised her head and tightened her grip on the bundle she carried. This time she would be admitted, of that she was certain.
She demanded to see Barkstead. The guards looked her up and down and, as she had anticipated, she was admitted to his presence without argument. Barkstead rose to his feet and bowed. Be
neath her black velvet mask, Thamsine smiled. His demeanour to a lady of rank bore a startling contrast to his treatment of Mistress Granville, the failed assassin of the Lord Protector.
‘I’m here to see my husband.’ She made it a demand, not a question.
‘And you are?’
‘Mistress Lovell. My husband is Captain Christopher Lovell.’
Barkstead’s mouth opened and his eyes narrowed. ‘Do I know you, Mistress Lovell?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Thamsine replied.
‘Your husband … ’
‘My husband was brought here seven days ago. Is he being well treated?’
‘I … ’ Barkstead shuffled some papers.
Thamsine laid a purse on the table. The clink made Barkstead’s eyes widen. ‘I want my husband placed in good accommodation with decent food,’ she said. ‘Treat him well and I will see you well rewarded.’
Barkstead blinked, ducking his head like a goose. ‘Of course, Mistress Lovell. I will personally ensure his every need is catered to.’
‘Good. Now I wish to see him.’
‘What is in the bundle?’ Barkstead indicated the bundle she carried. ‘It’s just I need to know … ’ he added, almost apologetically.
‘Clean clothes,’ she said, ‘A few books, nothing more. See for yourself.’
Barkstead cast a cursory glance at the contents and summoned a turnkey.
‘Mistress Lovell, it has been a pleasure. I shall make arrangements for your husband at once … ’
Thamsine bestowed a smile on him. ‘Thank you, Colonel. I hope on my next visit I will find everything to my satisfaction.’
As she had expected, Kit had been cast into one of the gloomy cells similar to the one she had occupied. Not the worst accommodation in the Tower, but far from comfortable. The heavy door swung open and Thamsine stepped through it, blinking as she allowed her eyes to grow accustomed to the gloom.
‘Thamsine?’ Kit, who had been lying on his back on the cot, pulled himself up, staring at her. ‘My God, Thamsine, I wouldn’t have recognised you.’
Thamsine undid her cloak, removed her hat and mask and smiled.
‘Neither did Barkstead,’ she said. ‘Amazing what a transformation a decent wardrobe can make.’
‘Not just good clothes, Tham,’ Kit said. ‘You look different.’
‘I’ve decided to take control of my life, Kit. I’m not leaving my future in the hands of stupid men like Roger Knott, nor will I allow myself to be terrorized by Ambrose Morton anymore. I am Thamsine Lovell, wife of the future Viscount Midhurst.’
Kit rose to his feet and took two steps towards her. He took her hand, looking her up and down.
‘I think this new Thamsine will take some getting used to.’
‘This new Thamsine is a creature of your invention, Kit.’ She slid her arms around his neck, looking into his unshaven face. ‘Now, are you going to kiss your wife?’
He bent his head and obliged. Thamsine laid her head on his shoulder and he kissed her hair.
‘Oh Thamsine, I’m so sorry!’ he murmured.
‘For what?’
‘For this mess, for marrying you, for … everything.’
‘Don’t be a fool, Kit.’ Thamsine broke away from him. ‘It’s all arranged. I have a lawyer. Roger says he is the best … ’
‘Save your money, Tham.’
‘Kit?’
‘No lawyer in the world can save me. My colleagues have dug the grave for me.’
‘No!’ Thamsine protested. ‘You’re not just going to go to the gallows without a fight.’
Kit raised his good hand. ‘Hear me out. I’ve seen Thurloe, and on his advice I’ve admitted my involvement in everything. I could hardly deny it. My comrades have betrayed me as surely as I did them.’
‘What will Thurloe do?’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t know but I have to trust him, Thamsine. He’s my only hope.’
‘He’s the spymaster, Lovell. You are expendable. Why should he help you?’
‘Whatever else he is, he’s a man of his word, Thamsine.’
‘And what exactly has he promised you, Kit?’
Kit’s silence gave her the answer she sought.
She turned away. ‘Nothing? Kit, you’ve given away your hope on a slim promise?’
His face was still. ‘I’m not scared of death, Thamsine. I faced my mortality every time I rode into battle, every time I ever took a wound, but now … now … ’ He cupped her face in his good hand, his thumb caressing the curve of her cheek. ‘For the first time, I have a reason to live, and I am looking down a dark passage with no escape. They have selected four of us to try: Gerard, Vowells, Fox and me. The choice is deliberate – our fate is to act as a deterrent to those who seek to plot.’
‘And how will Thurloe help you?’
He shook his head. ‘He can save me from the noose.’
‘For what? Imprisonment? Banishment?’
‘For life, Thamsine. The late King said “While I have life I have hope”.’
‘And look what happened to him!’ Thamsine could not disguise the bitterness in her voice.
‘I will go to trial, admit my guilt, show contrition, remorse … ’
‘And maybe, just maybe … you will end up on a slave plantation in Barbados with your brother!’
He dropped his hand. The cell was not large enough for him to walk away but he took a step back.
‘I have to believe that this is the right course of action, Thamsine.’
‘I have a lawyer. He can advise you.’ Thamsine could hear the note of desperation in her own voice.
‘For God’s sake, a lawyer is not going to save me! They have my confession, they have the testimony of a dozen witnesses. A lawyer will just as surely send me to my grave.’
Thamsine picked up her cloak and mask and took a deep, steadying breath.
‘If that is how you want it,’ she said in a flat voice.
‘That is how it has to be,’ he said gently. ‘Look at me, Tham.’
She raised her head and looked into his eyes. Green eyes, nice eyes.
‘Trust Thurloe,’ he said. ‘Trust me.’
‘I trusted you before and look where that got me.’ She smiled without humour. ‘It seems I have no choice.’
He smiled in return. ‘That’s better. Now, what’s in that bundle?’
‘Some clean linen.’ She looked around the cell. ‘Money buys favours. Barkstead will improve your accommodation. If he doesn’t, he will have me to answer to.’
Kit smiled. ‘I knew there was a good reason to marry a woman with money.’
‘I will also have a tailor attend you,’ she said. ‘You will need to look well for your trial. Is there a date set?’
He shook his head. ‘It will be a few weeks yet. They have to constitute a special court. They don’t dare try us in open court before a jury. Too much public sympathy.’
‘So much for justice.’ Thamsine gave a shudder and changed the subject. ‘How’s your hand?’
He looked down at the filthy bandage. ‘It took a couple of knocks on my way here, but it’s healing. Every day I get a little more movement back, but … ’ His voice tailed off.
Thamsine unwound the bandage and touched the crooked, still-splinted fingers. When she looked up, she saw the anguish in his eyes. He saw, as she did, that he would never use the hand again. Not for the things that mattered.
‘I brought you Francis Bacon and a couple of your other books,’ Thamsine said as she inexpertly rebound the hand with a fresh bandage, hiding the ruined fingers from sight.
She stood up and leaned her head against his shoulder and his good arm encircled her, drawing her close. His lips brushed her hair, and they stood wrapped in each other until the turnkey rapped on the door.
As they broke apart and stood looking at each other, hand in hand like children, Thamsine felt her self-control begin to crumble. She had never thought it possible to love anyone as much as she loved Kit Lovel
l. Their time together had been so short and yet so intense.
He lowered his head, his lips seeking out hers, his left hand meshing in her hair. They kissed as soulmates, drawing on each other’s strengths, each willing the other to survive no matter what.
Thamsine took the few steps to the door of the cell and looked back. Kit did not move.
His lips moved with the words ‘I love you’.
She smiled and nodded, mouthing ‘And I you,’ before the door closed behind her.
Chapter 21
‘We’ve a fine day for it!’ Lord Gerard looked surprisingly cheerful for a man was about to go on trial for his life.
The cart carrying Gerard, Vowells, Fox and Kit to Westminster lurched, throwing Kit against Gerard. The four of them were manacled hand and foot. Kit raised his head to look at the bright blue cloudless sky. The warm July sun did little except exacerbate the stinking refuse in the street.
Gerard clapped him on the shoulder, with a clank of his chains. ‘Come, Lovell. Don’t lose hope. From what I hear tell you’ve been well looked after. You’re fortunate to have a wife with means to ameliorate your condition. Has she paid for the services of a good lawyer, too?’
Kit ignored Gerard’s question. ‘What do you intend to do, Gerard?’ he asked.
‘Vowells and I intend to dispute the jurisdiction of the court,’ Lord Gerard answered.
Kit gave a snort of laughter. ‘Really? Somewhat presumptuous of you.’
‘It is a specially constituted court, Lovell. Cromwell knows if we go before a jury we will be acquitted.’
‘And if the trial proceeds?’
Gerard’s bearded chin jutted. ‘I’ll not admit involvement.’
‘Gerard, you’re a fool. The evidence is overwhelming.’
‘You mean you intend to admit guilt?’
Kit shrugged. ‘I am guilty.’ He looked at his fellow conspirators. Vowells and Fox sat in silence, their grim faces failing to reflect Gerard’s optimism. ‘And as all of you have willingly borne testimony to that fact, how can I deny it?’
Gerard regarded him for a moment.
‘You know there were whispers about your loyalty, Lovell. There were those who said you were Thurloe’s man.’
‘Did they?’
‘I denied it, of course, and then once Fitzjames was unmasked, that silenced the doubters. I have no doubt that it was Henshaw who betrayed us. But come, Lovell, I’ve known you, man and boy, and it is not in your character to admit defeat. Why?’
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