by Anne Herries
Mistress Babette thought he had an enemy and, when he considered, James could only agree. Someone had wanted him dead—but was it Jane’s brother?
He dismissed it from his thoughts, looking about him as they rode. They had been fortunate not to come up against a Royalist troop. The closer they got to Babette’s home and the Royalist stronghold, the more likely it became that they would meet an expeditionary force. He did not have enough men to fight so he would have to take avoiding measures. Much as that went against the grain, he would do it rather than risk Babette’s life.
His brow creased as he thought of the future. When they got close enough to her home, he must say farewell to her—and that would not be easy. Somehow the barriers between them had crumbled since she saved him from being left to bleed, perhaps to death. He did not doubt that Lady Graham might have tried to patch him up, but it was Babette’s skill that had undoubtedly saved him weeks of suffering. If the ball had been left in too long it might have led to putrid flesh and perhaps the loss of his arm. He had seen it often enough when a man had been neglected—or butchered by the surgeons with their infected knives that were used time and time again without cleansing.
He undoubtedly owed the fact that he was able to ride to Babette, even though his wound had begun to pain him. Frowning, he knew that he ought to have asked her to renew the bandage when they stopped. He would do so later, because it was becoming very painful and he did not wish to succumb to a fever now.
Yes, he would ask her to bind his wound again. The thought of her hands touching him made him breathe harder. He struggled to control the burning need that spread through him like wildfire. She was an innocent, and he could not despoil her—even though he wanted her more than he had ever wanted any other woman.
More than Jane? James faced the truth. He had never felt this way when he was with Jane. Yes, he loved her, but he had not felt this burning physical desire.
His thoughts were sombre. Was he betraying Jane in his thoughts? He must not! She was all he had loved and wanted—and yet a tiny corner of his mind was telling him that had they married she would not have welcomed James to her bed.
No! He was wicked to have such thoughts and must put them from his mind. The Royalist girl deserved his gratitude, but nothing more. He would forget her as soon as they were parted.
She had saved his life and he was grateful. He could not have done less than escort her home...but if that were all, why did he have this empty feeling inside at the thought of their parting?
* * *
The house they stayed at that night was a large, comfortable manor house. With long, gracious rooms panelled in oak and well furnished with carved stools, chairs, settles, court cupboards and stout tables with bulbous legs, it was an elegant home. Pictures and expensive ornate mirrors adorned the walls here and there—there were even some carpets on the floors.
In the castle the carpets were used to hang on the walls to keep out the chill off the thick stone, but here they added colour and brightness to the best parlour floor. Much of the silver that would normally have graced such a room had been put away or melted down for the cause, but there was plenty of burnished pewter, brass and ironwork. Also, some wonderful bowls fashioned of hard stone that Babette knew to be alabaster or perhaps jade and was a wonderful milky-white colour. Her father had one such precious bowl at home, which she knew had come from the Far East and had been brought back by some enterprising trader. During the reign of Elizabeth I the sea captains had become more and more daring, venturing to the trade routes of China, Arabia and the Indies, bringing back treasures that had seldom been seen in England, other than the few trinkets brought back by the conquering Crusaders. Now what had once been rare beyond price was becoming more often met with as the world opened up for the daring merchant-adventurers who risked their lives for spices, silks, gold, rich carpets and precious things from the East.
Sir Matthew’s house contained none of these luxuries. He would have frowned on such ostentation, but Babette appreciated the beauty she saw around her—and the kindness of the host and hostess who welcomed her to their home for Captain Colby’s sake.
‘It is a privilege for us to have the daughter of Lord Harvey stay,’ Sir Michael Hastings said, smiling at her after they had supped together. ‘I knew your father well when we were young men—and I have met your brother. John is serving with his Majesty. He and Drew Melbourne are important courtiers and highly thought of by the King.’
‘Thank you for your kind words,’ Babette said and looked puzzled. She had not expected to hear kind things of her brother here. ‘I knew my brother was serving his Majesty, but I did not know in what capacity...’ She hesitated, then, ‘But are you not for Parliament, sir?’
‘I fight for neither side, but I am in touch both with the King and with Lord Manchester, who is fighting against his Majesty. We and others would bring about a truce if we can and see an end to this war.’
Babette looked at Captain Colby. He did not look shocked and she realised that he must have known his friend was neutral; he had chosen to fight against the injustice of the harsh laws that had been made, some said by the King’s council rather than he himself, but retained his friendship for a man who seemed slightly more Royalist than rebel.
She caught a thoughtful look in Captain Colby’s eyes and wondered at it until she recalled what she’d said. He must have heard from her uncle that her brother had disappeared and she had just admitted to knowing her brother was in the King’s service.
Her cheeks warm, she turned away from the accusing look in his eyes and allowed her hostess to conduct her to her chamber. Lady Hastings was a plump, pretty lady of perhaps nine-and-twenty years. She liked to talk and chattered on about all manner of inconsequential things as she led the way.
Her gown was of the best silk and a pale blue in colour. It rustled and swayed as she walked, the full panniers holding out the wide skirts which swept the ground as she made her stately progress along the upper hall. Babette felt dowdy in her simple gown of grey and wished she had one of her own silk gowns to wear.
‘This will be your room, Mistress Babette,’ she said, stopping in front of a door. ‘I hope you will be comfortable here.’
Babette looked about her. The bed was a half-tester with carved oak posts hung with green-velvet curtains caught back with ropes of twisted gold thread. The coverlet was a patchwork of green, red, gold, cream and yellow, and the pillows were feather-filled and piled high, the sheets of the finest linen, to be seen where the coverlet had been turned back invitingly. At each side of the bed was a small side table upon which stood iron candelabra. There was a large cupboard with space underneath to store a trunk and shelves above to lay her gowns. Also a chair with legs that curved in an X-shape, a coffer on legs set with silver trinkets and an embroidered cloth, and at the end of the bed a long stool with a padded, embroidered seat in colours of rose and gold. This was luxury indeed, for her room at home was smaller, though as comfortable because she had her needlework stands, her lyre, harp and other personal belongings—things that she had not chosen to take with her to her uncle’s house.
‘This is beautiful,’ she said with honesty. ‘No one could fail to be comfortable here, ma’am.’
Lady Hastings looked pleased. ‘It is our third-best guest chamber,’ she admitted. ‘Captain Colby is a good friend of our family and we could not do less for a lady he brings to visit us. The best guest chamber is reserved for his Majesty. It is the State Room and much grander, but I think less comfortable.’
‘Has the King stayed here?’
‘Oh, yes, many times in the past.’ Lady Hastings frowned. ‘You think it strange that we respect the King, yet welcome his enemies here? We have many friends, Mistress Babette. I should hate to quarrel with any of them and if the time comes when we must choose it will be very hard.’
‘Yes...’ Babette bit her
lip. She had wondered at it, for though her uncle professed to be neutral he had made no secret that he was for the rebels when it came to it. In this house she sensed that the owners were truly neutral and wished only for a peaceful solution to the discord that was tearing the country apart. ‘Captain Colby says he is for Parliament, but he is not like the men who rant and preach against all pleasure.’
‘Puritans!’ The lady curled her lip in disgust. ‘If I thought that they would win the day, I should take up a sword and fight for the King myself. James is no Puritan, mistress. He is a generous, charming man who loves the finer things of life, as we do, and wants only to live in an England where all men have rights and none are unjustly punished. My uncle was condemned and tried by the Star Chamber, though all he did was complain about the tax of Ship Money and refuse to pay it. Because he urged others to do the same they arrested him and tried him—he was tortured to make him confess his treason to the Crown. When he would not break, they threw him in the Tower and he died there of a fever.’
‘Oh, how cruel,’ Babette cried, horrified. ‘I did not know King Charles allowed such wickedness in his name.’
‘Lord Hastings believes it is the Catholics in his council who do these things. He should renounce them and recall Parliament—and then there would be no need for this foolish war.’
‘Yes, he should,’ Babette said. ‘I did not know what the Star Chamber did—and I think it should be disbanded. Such cruel ways are not fitting in this England. My father did not approve of the Pope or the Catholic faith—and I think you feel the same, ma’am?’
‘No wonder James likes you,’ Lady Hastings cried and kissed her cheek. ‘You think as we do, my dear. I am so glad to have met you—and you must call me Suzette. We shall be friends when you wed James, of course. He is of the Protestant persuasion, as we are. I know nothing is settled and forgive me if I speak out of turn, but I saw the way he looked at you—and I know you would not have consented to his escort if there was nothing between you, for it would not be proper.’
Babette turned away, her cheeks flaming. Her hostess had spoken so openly and, of course, what she said was true—it was most improper for her to travel with only a male escort that was not family, unless there was an understanding between them. Her eyes went towards the open door and she saw Captain Colby standing there. She knew at once that he had heard his hostess, and her mouth quivered as she put a hand to her face. How embarrassing that he should have heard every word!
She hoped he would just walk away, pretend that he had not heard, but instead he came into the room, smiling at her and then at Lady Hastings.
‘I am hoping that Mistress Babette will give me her heart and her hand,’ he said in a clear firm voice. ‘However, as you know, Suzette, her brother is for his Majesty while I fight for the rebels...as he would name us. Not everyone is as tolerant as you and Michael. Our arrangement has to remain a secret until I can speak to Lord Harvey and that may be some time...perhaps not until the war ends. If I were to ask too soon, he might refuse us, for unfortunately we are as enemies.’
Lady Hastings made a distressed clucking sound in her throat and shook her head. ‘How awkward for you both. I understand completely and shall keep your secret—but I can see that you care for each other and I shall pray that in time you may be together and happy.’
‘I pray for such good fortune,’ Captain Colby said. ‘Forgive me for intruding on your privacy, ladies. I came only to say that Babette’s trunk has caught up with us if there is anything she needs from it?’
‘I thank you, no,’ Babette said. ‘All I need for the night is in my bundle. If you will make my servant comfortable for the night, ma’am, I shall be grateful.’
‘Of course. He may sleep in the kitchens with the others,’ the lady said, ‘and I shall personally see to it that he has all he needs. I will leave you to settle in. James, have you all you require in your chamber?’
‘Yes, thank you, Suzette,’ he said and smiled at her, offering his arm.
Babette closed the door, watching as they walked away down the hall together. He turned his head to look at her, his eyes conveying some kind of message she did not quite understand. After closing the door, she considered what had happened and realised what his message must mean: he had been obliged to tell his hostess that there was an understanding between them to save her reputation. Naturally, it meant nothing and he wanted her to understand that it was simply an excuse to save her face.
How she wished that it were the truth!
She swallowed hard, knowing that she wished with all her heart that the situation were as he had described. To leave him when they reached her village and know they would not meet again was very hard.
Babette was conscious of an odd ache in her chest. The rebel captain had come to mean far more to her than was good for her.
* * *
James had gone to Babette’s room in the hope of asking her to rebind his shoulder, but having overheard Lady Hastings he could do nothing but claim that he intended to wed Babette. By bringing her here he had exposed her to conjecture and a possible loss of reputation. She had travelled with him and his men all day with no female companion. In his haste to remove her from her uncle’s house, he had not thought of what his friends might think. Now he knew that he had placed her in a difficult position. There was only one way to make amends—and that was to offer for her.
He could not approach her brother while they were at war, but if Lady Hastings believed they were to marry she would not think of Babette as wanton or careless of her reputation. So he had spoken out—and, strange as it was, in speaking of a marriage between them, James had seen that it would suit him very well.
Babette was beautiful, but she was also all that any reasonable man could require in a wife. She had skills that would benefit his household, knowledge of herbs and cures that were often needed in a large house where someone was always requiring some attention. Her pies and pastry were far better than her aunt’s—and...at last he admitted what he had been fighting for days. He wanted her as a man wants a woman in his bed.
James had been celibate too long. He had not touched a woman since he had last kissed Jane. He had thought of going to the whores with his men on a couple of occasions, for like any other man he had needs, but something had held him back. Perhaps he feared to besmirch Jane’s memory—or perhaps he was merely too fastidious.
Babette’s smell was clean and fresh, a delicate perfume hanging about her that seemed to hint at roses and lavender without being overpowering. He had been tempted on several occasions by her—and he knew that there was fire in her. Besides, there were hidden depths in her—a mystery he wished to solve. He knew with his heart and soul that there was more to his feelings for her than his mind would allow.
His mind told him that he must continue to mourn Jane, but his heart and body cried out that he had grieved long enough—and that Babette was the woman who had healed him. She had brought him kicking and screaming back to life, though he’d clung to his grief—but she had made him aware how sweet life could be once more.
Why then should he look elsewhere for a wife? He must marry in time, for he did not wish to spend his life alone. He would always regret Jane’s death, though a voice in his head told him that his gentle love would not have enjoyed the marriage bed...she was too ethereal, too good for this world. Perhaps that was why God had seen fit to take her?
Babette Harvey was all woman, passion and fire and voluptuous flesh. She was the kind of woman who could match him—who would give him children and warm his bed for years to come. It would be no sacrifice to wed her.
Besides, he hardly had a choice, for he was too much the gentleman to ruin her reputation and then ride away and leave her to face the consequences. No, he would offer her an honourable marriage. It was the best solution for them both.
* * *
After
a night of lying restless in her bed for hours, Babette was brought a cup of ale, rolls and honey to her room just before it was light the next morning. The maid then went away, leaving her to break her fast and returning with a jug of warm water some minutes later.
‘The rolls and honey were delicious, as was the ale,’ she said. ‘You are spoiling me. I could have risen had you told me at what hour you break your fast here.’
‘Captain Colby asked that you be woken and served early before the master and mistress generally rise,’ the young servant said with a blush of pleasure. ‘He wishes you to go down as soon as you are ready for he must continue his journey by first light.’
Babette hid her sigh of disappointment. She had hoped they might stay here a little longer, for she liked this house and the people who lived here. The sooner they left, the sooner she must part from her escort and that thought caused an ache in her breast.
However, she knew that Captain Colby was a busy man and she must not take up more of his time than she was forced to, because he had important work waiting. He would have to explain himself to his superiors, for they would wonder why he had gone out of his way to help an enemy. Yet he was risking more than just his reputation by bringing her home; he and his men could be set upon by a roving force of Royalist soldiers and might lose their lives because of her.
Sobered by this thought, she went down as soon as she had put on her cloak. Captain Colby was in the hall saying goodbye to their host. He turned and looked at her with approval as she reached the bottom stair.
‘Good morrow, mistress. You are in good time.’
‘An example to us all,’ her host said, smiling.
‘Thank you for a kindly welcome, sir,’ she said, addressing Lord Hastings. ‘I slept most comfortably.’ Not true, for her thoughts had disturbed her rest too often.
