by Anne Herries
‘My wife apologises for not being down to bid you farewell, but she does not rise for another hour or more.’ He took the hand Babette offered and raised it his lips. ‘I have enjoyed meeting you, though I could have wished for a longer stay—but perhaps James will bring you here again one day.’
‘Perhaps...yes, I should like that very much,’ Babette said with a faint flush. She could do no other though she was conscious of Captain Colby’s eyes on her. She did not wish him to think she expected him to keep his word to ask for her. He was under no such obligation and had spoken only to save her face in front of Lady Hastings. ‘May God keep you and your family, sir—and I pray for peace and a just settlement, as you do.’
With these words and more of their like they parted from their host and went outside. The horses were waiting. Babette walked to hers, then turned and gave her hand to Captain Colby. He smiled at her.
‘Do not look so awkward. I said what I said last night because it was needful—but if you mislike it so much I can find an excuse to explain to my friends one day.’
‘I do not understand...’ Babette faltered. ‘I did not think you meant...you spoke only to save my modesty, I think?’
‘I spoke to save the reputation of a woman I greatly admire—a woman I should ask for if things were otherwise.’ His eyes seemed to burn into her. ‘You must know that I have come to care for and respect you. If I were free, I would court you, as your rank deserves, but the war has swept all chance of that away. I would have you as my wife with the permission of your brother, if I knew how that might be got. If you care to wait for the end of the war...’
Babette did not know how to answer him at once, for he had taken her breath away. ‘You honour me, sir. I thank you for the compliment...but we hardly know one another. I would not have you feel obliged when there is no need.’
‘I think I know you, Babs,’ he said, his gaze narrowing. ‘I wondered who you met that night and in the woods, but now I think I know. Your brother came to you for help in secret, I believe?’
She hesitated, then inclined her head. ‘Yes, that is so, sir. He is, as you know, a Royalist, but I did nothing that would harm anyone. All I sought to do was help someone in trouble.’
‘As you did me when I was wounded. I am aware that I owe you my life, Babs. Yet it is not for that reason that I offer you my hand. We may not know each other well, but I find myself attracted to you and I think we might deal well together. I do not speak only from obligation—though I would not have you suffer loss of reputation.’
‘Lady Hastings will forget me. You may explain to her one day, if you wish.’
‘You do not think we might suit?’
‘Yes, I think perhaps we should,’ she replied honestly, raising her eyes to his. Her heart raced and, for one moment, she was tempted to say that she would go away with him, forget her duty to her family, forget the war—but then reality took hold and she knew it was impossible. ‘Yet at this time it would not be right or proper in me to marry a man who is the enemy of my family.’
‘I am not your enemy,’ he said softly, ‘but I respect your feelings and I shall wait until the time is right to ask again.’
He would ask her again! For a moment she could not breathe.
Babette’s throat tightened and she wished that she could throw caution to the winds, tell him that she liked him more than any man she had ever met and go with him. Yet if she did she might never see her brother again, for he would think that she had betrayed him and his cause. The pain about her heart was intense, but she turned her head aside so that Captain Colby should not see her pain and indecision.
He took hold of her, both hands about her waist, tossing her up on her horse’s back and giving her the reins. She felt as if her body were on fire and wanted to cling to him, to let him kiss her until she forgot all else—but common sense made her hold back. She could not love an enemy.
Babette had to fight her tears as he walked away from her, but she raised her head and controlled her wilful need. She was the daughter and sister of a lord of the realm and both her father and brother had always been loyal to the King—as she must be. To marry a man who had taken up arms against his King would betray all she had been taught to believe in...and yet her heart cried out that this man was the one man in all the world who could make her happy.
Captain Colby had given the order to move off. Babette gripped her reins and followed, her eyes blinded by the tears she could not quite control. She was denying her heart to do what she believed was right—and she must not weaken, even if her heart felt as if it would break in two.
* * *
They travelled all that day, stopping only once to eat food their host had sent with them from his kitchens. Captain Colby was courteous, polite, but a little reserved. Babette suspected that she might have hurt his pride by dismissing his offer out of hand.
She prayed that she had not hurt him, because she cared for his good opinion and liked him well. She dare not attribute a deeper meaning to her feelings towards him, for if she once admitted her love she would lose the strength to resist—and resist she must.
* * *
It was approaching dusk when they saw the castle outlined against the darkening sky. Captain Colby halted his men a short distance from the village. He turned his horse and came back to her, his eyes intent on her face as he said, ‘I shall ride the last mile alone with you, mistress. My men will stay here, for if we approached the castle it might be mistaken as a hostile attack.’
‘I would not have harm come to you or your men,’ she said, blinking back the betraying tears. ‘I am close to home and none would harm me here. I am well known and liked, I think. Leave me now, sir, and go on your way. I have taken enough of your time.’
‘I shall ride with you until you are within sight of the walls,’ he insisted. ‘My men will wait here until I return—for an hour at least. If I should not return, they would then go on without me.’
Babette wanted to deny him, but his face was set and she knew he would not desert her. He would insist on accompanying her to her home at the risk of his own safety. She thanked him, turning to lead the way. He brought his horse to walk by her side and, risking a glance at him, she saw a little nerve flicking at his temple. Words trembled on her tongue, but she did not speak them and they rode in silence until they were close to the castle that was her home.
‘Here I must leave you, Mistress Babette,’ he said, his eyes seeking hers. ‘If God spares me and I am able, I shall return to you. I pray you, remember me with kindness—and know that I think of you and am grateful for my life.’
‘Captain...I thank you,’ she whispered, her throat tight. ‘I...I shall not forget you.’ With that she spurred her horse forward, riding hard towards the castle and across the drawbridge into the outer bailey. She did not look back, even though she sensed that he watched her until she disappeared from his view. ‘God protect and keep you—and bring you back to me.’
He could not hear the words, but they were in her heart and would remain until they met again.
Tears caught in her throat and she longed to turn her horse about and ride back to him, but already men had gathered about her and began to exclaim.
‘My lady...’ Martin, her father’s faithful steward, had come rushing down to the courtyard. ‘When you were seen I could not believe that it was truly you come back to us. You sent no word?’
‘I could not,’ she said, lifting her head, all trace of tears gone as he helped her down, looking at her anxiously. ‘My uncle no longer felt able to offer me a home and the...kind friends who escorted me home could not wait. I would have had to journey alone had it not been for my friends. Jonas is bringing the wagon with my trunk, but will probably not arrive until the morning, for he knows the drawbridge is raised soon after dusk.’
‘Well, I am glad to have you here,’ th
e steward said. ‘Have you seen Lord Harvey? Do you know that his wife is here?’
‘Yes, I have seen him. I thought he might be here before me. His friend was ill and they intended to make their way here as swiftly as they were able...’ She faltered then, ‘Will you take me to Lady Alice, please?’
‘She is lying in her chamber, which is where she spends most of her time. I fear she is sickly and I do not know how to comfort her.’
‘Poor Martin,’ Babette said and laughed. ‘Had I known that my brother intended to bring his wife here I should not have deserted you. I shall go up to her and see if I can ease her.’
Suddenly, the burden of doubt had fallen from her shoulders and she was glad to be at home where she was welcome. Martin always sought her advice when any of the household were ill, as he had her mother before she died of a fever taken from nursing one of the villagers. Far from being feared or hated as a witch, the local people had both loved and revered Lady Harvey.
Despite the distress it had caused her to part from Captain Colby with so much left unfinished between them, she knew that she was glad to be safe at home.
Her brother might be angry when he discovered that she had not waited for him to send for her, but perhaps he would understand once she explained that she’d had no choice.
Pushing her doubts away, she went into the castle, feeling the cold strike into her bones. She had forgotten how cold it could be inside its thick stone walls and shivered, holding her cloak about her as she went up the winding steps to the solar she knew would house her brother’s wife. At the top, she paused outside and knocked.
‘Who is it?’ a plaintive voice asked. ‘Please go away. My head aches...’
‘Perhaps I can ease it,’ Babette said and peeped round the door. She saw a pretty, fair-haired woman lying propped up against a pile of feather pillows. Her skin had an unnatural pallor and she did indeed look ill.
Alice looked at her. ‘Who are you? Can it be...?’ She swung her legs over the bed, looking at Babette with new interest. ‘Are you Babette—are you my husband’s sister?’
‘Yes, indeed I am.’
‘Is he with you?’ Alice asked eagerly.
‘He will be here soon, perhaps tomorrow,’ Babette said. ‘I came on ahead because he said you needed my company. I can see you are feeling ill—will you tell me what is wrong? Sometimes I can make a cure that will help.’
‘I have been feeling so sick and now I have the headache.’ A faint colour stained Alice’s cheeks. ‘Did John tell you that I am with child?’
‘Yes, he did.’ Babette smiled at her. ‘I am so happy for you both—and to know that he is alive and well. I can make a mixture that will ease your sickness and then the headache should go away. Would you like me to do that for you?’
‘Yes, please,’ Alice said and there was a new animation in her. She smiled and Babette saw why her brother had defied their father to run away with her. ‘John said that you would know how to make me feel better.’
‘I make only simple cures. There is no mystery or witchcraft in what I do.’ Babs looked at her hesitantly and was relieved when she laughed.
‘Who would be foolish enough to think you a witch?’ she asked and held out her hand. ‘Come and sit with me for a moment, tell me where you have been and what made you come home. Was it just for my sake?’
‘My uncle is a man of odd but strong views,’ Babette said. ‘He took it into his head that I...was a bad influence on his daughter and asked me to leave. Some friends were coming this way and escorted me to within sight of the castle.’
‘You should have invited them to stay for the night.’
‘They had business elsewhere.’
Alice said. ‘I think your uncle is a fool, but I am grateful that he sent you home, for I am glad to have you here. I begin to feel better already.’
Babette smiled and took her hand. Some of the colour was returning to Alice’s cheeks and she suspected that a large part of her sickness was due to the fact that she was alone in a strange place. The castle had few women servants; it was a place of men, a fortress rather than a comfortable home, and not truly the right home for a lady who looked to be perhaps three or four months gone with child.
‘I felt lonely here, too, after my father died. We did not know where John was and I went to visit my aunt for company. She was kind to me and I am fond of my cousin—but my uncle is too stern a man. I am glad to be home with you, Alice, but I should have thought John would take you to the manor house. It is small but pleasant and my mother liked it better than the castle. Though I suppose in these times of war it could not be so well defended.’
‘That is why John brought me here.’ Alice sighed. ‘He took me first to Brevington Manor, and I liked it there, but he said I could not stay there alone while he was away fighting. I suppose he is right.’ Her face lost its animation, her eyes looking large and scared in her pale face. ‘I do not know what would happen to me if he...’
Babette understood what troubled her. She was in love with her husband and she feared losing him. It could so easily happen. John might have been wounded instead of Drew—and if she had not been at her uncle’s house Drew could have died.
‘I cannot promise you that John will not be wounded or even killed,’ she said, ‘but while I live you will always have a friend in me, Alice.’
‘Thank you,’ Alice said and embraced her. ‘John said you would be good for me and he was right. I shall not be afraid when my child comes now that you are here.’
Babette felt the sting of tears. It had cost her much to choose between her brother and his wife and Captain Colby. She would never have been able to live with herself if she had gone with him and then heard that Alice had gone into a decline.
‘We shall love and comfort each other,’ she said, kissing Alice’s cheek. ‘And now I shall make you a pleasant tisane that will make you feel much better. Perhaps tomorrow John and his friend will be here.’
Leaving Alice’s room, she went down to her mother’s still room. The shelves were packed with jars of cures she had made before she left so that Martin would have something if one of the servants fell sick. There were also bunches of dried herbs and jars with tight-fitting caps that contained other ingredients she used in her tisanes.
She sent a servant to fetch a pan of hot water and mixed her herbs, making a brew that would help Alice feel less sick in the mornings. When it was strong enough, she strained it and added honey to sweeten it, then poured it into a cup and carried it up to her sister-in-law’s chamber. She knew that it worked swiftly. By the time her husband returned, Alice should be feeling able to greet him with a smile.
Babette’s own heart was aching. She had parted from the man she loved and did not know whether she would ever see him again.
‘May God protect you and keep you safe,’ she prayed. ‘Please come back to me one day—and do not hate me.’
Chapter Seven
Was he a fool to let her go so easily? James was thoughtful as he turned aside after seeing Babette ride over the drawbridge and into her home. He was certain she was wavering. Had he insisted, would she have thrown caution to the wind and come with him? He had come close to taking her on to his horse and riding away with her—he could have taken her to his home, closed the gates and forgot his duty...forsaking everything for her and love.
Was this feeling burning deep inside him love or merely physical desire? He knew that when she was near he could think only of bedding her, yet when she was in danger his first need had been to take her to safety.
Had he begun to love again? Not in the way he’d worshipped his gentle Jane, but as a man loved the woman who would be his equal, his partner through all the trials of life.
A part of him wanted to return, sweep her on to his horse and ride away!
No, that was foolish, a fool
ish thought for a weak man. He could never neglect his duty, and her brother would disown her if she wed a man he would name his enemy. She’d had no option but to return to her life and he to his.
It had taken strength to draw back and let her go. He had longed to ride off with her to his home, lock the door and forget there was a war. He wanted to keep her safe from all harm, to spend his life with her and think no more of politics or waging the fight against an unfair King. Yet he knew even as his thoughts rebelled that he could not do it. She must come to him of her own will and for preference with the goodwill of her brother.
James groaned, as he knew how hopeless a cause that might be. Lord Harvey was young and had chosen to fight for his King without giving the causes of the war enough thought. What Englishman in his right mind would condone the kind of taxes that had been forced upon them since Charles I had come to the throne? He thought with regret of the good days when Queen Bess had sat upon the English throne. He was, of course, not old enough to recall it, but his grandfather had revered Gloriana and hated the Scottish King who had taken her place. With his favourites and his petty weaknesses, King James had not served his people well—and his son was a tyrant who believed that he had a divine right to rule as he chose without due recourse to the law or to the people’s wishes.
Why did it have to happen in his lifetime? A country torn by civil strife—brother against brother and cousin against cousin. Drew Melbourne had been his friend until they quarrelled over James’s decision to stand with Parliament in this tussle. He regretted the breach, but not even for one second had he considered that Drew might be the enemy who had tried to kill him in such a cowardly way.
No, he could think only that it was Jane’s brother who hated him so deeply—but he could not think why or what had changed between them. Instead of being united in their grief, as he’d expected, his one-time friend had withdrawn, become distant and cold.
Did he blame him for Jane’s death?
