by Stella Riley
An hour later, he was in the courtyard wrestling with the corroded mechanism of Thorne Ash’s ancient saker whilst trying to think of some way to mend his rapidly disintegrating marriage. Despite everything, he still ached with love for Celia … but was increasingly aware both of her rising discontent and the crippling knowledge that nothing he did could please her. Well, not quite nothing. She still welcomed, even demanded, his attentions in bed – but even there all was not perfect. Celia wanted the pleasure without risking another pregnancy; and the result was a state of affairs that Eden, at least, found both unsatisfying and somewhat demeaning. Outside the bedroom, of course, things were even worse because she rarely stopped carping; and there were days now when Eden found hiding his anxiety and misery from the rest of the family almost beyond him.
He tugged viciously at the firing-pin again – and again it frustrated him. Then, from behind him a voice he had no expectation of hearing said jovially, ‘I might have known. Anything involving moving parts and a tub of grease.’
‘Ralph?’ Eden swung round to stare incredulously at his friend. ‘My God … Ralph!’
Mr Cochrane grinned down on him and extended one large, calloused hand.
‘How are you, my midget?’
‘Astounded,’ said Eden, gripping the hand in his own. ‘And less of the insults. Can I help it if you’ve grown?’
‘Or I if you’ve shrunk? It seems I’ve surprised you.’
‘Don’t you always? And what have you done with your horse?’
‘I met that fellow of yours – Tripp, is it? He said you were out here and offered to stable my nag so I could check your reflexes. Not very good, are they? But,’ waving a dismissive hand, ‘we’ll let that pass. I don’t suppose it’s your fault you’ve grown slack. And I’d sooner catch up on your news.’
‘And I yours,’ laughed Eden. ‘But let’s see. I’m married to Francis’s sister, Celia, and we have a son. Father’s in the Commons helping to set up the Committee for Defence; Amy’s married and living in the City; Toby is apprenticed to an Italian goldsmith - whose sister you’ll find in the house; and Kate … Kate spent six months at Court and came back more or less betrothed.’ He stopped to draw breath. ‘How’s that?’
‘It’ll do for a start. Though to tell you the truth, I’m still reeling from the notion of you as a father,’ retorted Ralph. Then, ‘What exactly are you trying to do to that cannon?’
‘Give it a new lease of life. I doubt it’s ever been fired in earnest but you don’t know what you’ll need these days, do you? The problem is that I can’t release the damned pin.’
‘Stand aside, my boy. This job requires the brute force of a professional.’ Ralph shrugged off his coat and bent over the saker. ‘I assume that – though you’re readying this piece for action – you don’t intend to stay and man it personally?’
‘No. John Fiennes seems eager to have me help garrison Banbury Castle. But if I’m going to fight, I’d sooner do it in the field.’
‘What do you mean – if?’ demanded Ralph, heaving at the recalcitrant pin. ‘You’re a trained man, for God’s sake! I’d have thought you’d already be raising levies.’
‘I am. And eventually I’ll take them to join a larger force – Lord Essex, probably. But I can’t just go charging off into the blue, Ralph. I’ve other responsibilities.’
‘You mean your son?’
‘He’s part of it. Also the estate and the family and so on.’ Eden hesitated before saying lightly, ‘And there’s Celia.’
The pause was not lost on Ralph and he shot a hard, searching glance at his friend’s face. Then, addressing himself once more to the saker, ‘Ah yes. Celia. Thinks like Francis, does she?’
‘More or less. So living here is difficult for her.’
‘Difficult for all of you, I should think. Hallelujah! I believe this thing’s moving at last. Well … you’ll do what you must, I suppose. Pity though. I’d hoped we might go together.’
‘Go where?’
‘To war, you idiot!’ He gave one last tremendous tug and sat back with a bump as the pin came free. ‘There you are – all yours to play with to your heart’s content. The mercenaries are homing in from all over Europe for the fray. The fellow I fought under in Germany is one of ’em – another nasty, common soldier like myself. Matter of fact, I’m meeting him in London next week and we’re off to join somebody called Waller.’
‘Sir William Waller? The member for Andover?’
‘That’s him. Gabriel says he’s good – and, more to the point, experienced. A quality which is going to be in short supply.’ Rising, Ralph dusted himself off and reached for his coat. ‘Speaking of which, they say Rupert’s coming in for the King.’
‘I know.’ It was a source of regret to Eden that fate had decreed he would never fight beside the legendary Prince who was just four months younger than himself. ‘Rumour has it that he’s collecting arms and experts in Holland.’
‘Quite. So it’s going to be interesting, isn’t it? Because if a tithe of what’s said of him is true, we’re going to need all the help we can get.’ Ralph stopped and grinned. ‘And now – before I start boring the arse off you with war stories – perhaps I’d better go and make my bow to your lady mother. Do you think she’ll give me a billet for a few days?’
‘For as long as you like,’ replied Eden. And then, his eyes gleaming, ‘Provided, of course, that you refrain from being nasty and common.’
* * *
With the inevitable exception of Celia, the entire household was pleased to welcome Ralph, and the faint air of tension which had begun to invade Thorne Ash fled before his bluff good cheer and wholly uncomplicated nature. He told a stream of hilarious and frequently suspect tales of his antics abroad to Dorothy and the girls, whilst reserving for Eden alone the grim realities and military details. He declared himself alarmed by Kate’s metamorphosis, teased Gianetta about her jewels but restored himself to grace with his readiness to play with Jude and allowed Celia to snipe at him almost continuously without ever being provoked into anything more than a discreetly contemptuous glance.
In the end, however, it was to fifteen-year-old Tabitha that he found himself saying grimly, ‘That girl is the most beautiful shrew I’ve ever met. How on earth do you all put up with her?’
‘With difficulty,’ came the candid reply. ‘But it’s for Eden, you see.’
‘No. I don’t see. It seems to me high time someone stopped her in her tracks with a few home truths.’
‘I daresay. But the trouble is, it only makes her worse – and then Eden suffers for it. Do you think Kate hasn’t already tried? And Francis too, I suspect – before he and Eden got rolling drunk together. She couldn’t understand that at all, of course.’ Tabitha bit off her thread and shook out the shirt she’d been mending. ‘There you are. Good as new.’
‘Thank you. And you did understand it, I suppose?’
‘Yes.’ She caught the grin in his eye and responded to it. ‘They’ve been friends for years and that doesn’t just vanish overnight, does it? I imagine it was a sort of goodbye before Francis went back to the King. Eden’s very conscious of us all being on the verge of what he calls “a war without an enemy”.’
‘Eden,’ said Ralph flatly, ‘is letting Celia influence him. And it’s making him indecisive.’
Tabitha’s brows rose.
‘If you think that,’ she said, ‘you can’t know him nearly as well as you think. The truth is that he’s itching to go because it’s what he’s good at. You’ve seen him with that troop of his. Would he be going to all that trouble if he planned to stay out of it? Of course he wouldn’t! And when the time’s right, he’ll go. It’s true that he loves Celia very much. But have you ever known anyone make him do anything he didn’t want to do – or didn’t believe to be right?’ She paused and finished a trifle breathlessly, ‘Really, Ralph – I’m surprised at you.’
For a long moment, he simply looked at her; at the faint tinge of pink in the
clear skin, at softly-curling hair the colour of dark honey … and most of all, at the mixture of concern and disapproval in the clear, grey eyes. Something entirely unexpected stirred inside his chest, causing him to remind himself how young she actually was. Then, putting it sensibly aside, he said humorously, ‘I take it I’m having my knuckles rapped.’
‘Yes. And you deserved it, too.’
‘Did I? Yes – I probably did. No tact, you see.’
Tabitha got up and fixed him with a stern gaze.
‘What’s tact got to do with it? The general idea was that you should understand.’
* * *
Proof – if proof were needed – that what Tabitha had said of Eden was true, arrived on the following morning. Ralph was helping put a score of motley individuals turned cavalry unit through their paces when a messenger galloped up in a cloud of dust. And two minutes later, Eden was saying cheerfully, ‘Time to put our skills to the test, boys. Lord Brooke requires some assistance - a matter, I believe, of preserving some artillery from the marauding hands of Lord Northampton. How fortunate we’re mounted and ready. So fall in, gentlemen – and try to remember what you’ve been taught. Coming, Ralph?’
‘What do you think?’ responded Ralph, turning his horse’s head. ‘Where are these guns supposed to be going?’
‘Warwick. They’ve been in Banbury, awaiting collection.’
‘And the odds?’
‘Not, I gather, in Lord Brooke’s favour – which is why he’s asking for help,’ came the crisp reply. ‘Are you going to talk all day – or do you think we might get on?’
Ralph opened his mouth on a pithy retort and then thought better of it. Setting spurs to his horse, he drew abreast of Eden once more and said casually, ‘Are we expecting a fight?’
Eden awarded him an amused, sideways glance.
‘Why don’t you say what you mean?’
‘All right. Are you prepared to fight?’
‘Yes – but only if necessary. Our sole objective is to prevent those pieces of ordnance from changing hands. So we only break heads if we have to. Clear?’
‘Christ!’ said Ralph with mingled laughter and irritation. ‘Who do you think you’re talking to? Some damned tyro?’
‘Not at all. But my respect for your superior experience is tempered by my awareness of your besetting sin.’
‘Which is what?’
‘Thinking with your stomach,’ grinned Eden. ‘And don’t tell me you’ve grown out of it. If you had, you wouldn’t need to ask if I’m prepared to fight, would you?’
~ * * ~ * * ~
TWO
With the disputed cannon successfully rescued, Ralph packed his bags and departed for his rendezvous in London. Eden saw him off with faint but well-concealed envy, Celia with a waspish expression of relief and Tabitha with untouched equanimity.
Four days later, Richard arrived.
He waited until the natural excitement of welcome was over and he found himself alone with his wife and two eldest children; then he said flatly, ‘I think we must finally abandon all hope of a peaceful settlement. Some of the other members and myself have been doing our best but neither Pym nor the King is prepared to give an inch.’
Dorothy said, ‘God help us all then.’
‘Amen to that.’
She took his hand in hers. ‘What will you do?’
‘Continue to occupy my seat in the hope that there may be some way of minimising the damage. So you needn’t worry yet. Just tell me how matters stand here. Are we ready?’
‘As well as we can be. We’re stocked up with salt and flour and everything else that will keep. Kate’s been preserving fruit and devising ways of storing the vegetables; Tabitha’s got the dairy under full production with hard cheese – which tastes a bit like soap but keeps better than the soft kind; and I’ve been making vast quantities of various salves and cordials which I hope I’ll never need to use. As to the rest … we’re almost ready to start harvesting, aren’t we Eden?’
‘Within the week,’ he nodded. ‘In the meantime, Jacob’s repairing roofs and fences where necessary and I’ve had Adam fit a new locking-bar to the main gate. The saker in the courtyard is now operational but we’ve precious few balls to put in it; there are six muskets and four pistols in the hall chest; and I’ve laid in a barrel of powder along with as much shot as I could get hold of.’ He paused and smiled wryly. ‘All of which sounds very fine till you add the fact that this house could be taken by a dozen men inside two hours.’
‘Quite,’ said Richard grimly. ‘What men are you leaving?’
‘Jacob, of course – and old Silas and the Woodley brothers. And there’s Nathan.’
‘Nathan,’ asserted Kate, ‘is likely to be as much use as a stale custard. He can’t even load a pistol – much less fire one. So if anyone attacks us, the best we can hope for is that he’ll talk them to death.’
‘That’s a fairly accurate assessment,’ Eden acknowledged ruefully. ‘Unfortunately, he’s all we’ve got.’
‘He’s not.’ Kate eyed him squarely. ‘There’s me. All you have to do is tell me what to expect and teach me a basic plan of defence. I can shoot – quite well, as it happens. And I couldn’t do worse than Nathan. No one could.’
‘That,’ admitted her father, ‘is probably true.’
‘Thank you.’ She looked at Eden. ‘Well?’
He thought about it for a moment and then shrugged.
‘Why not? We’ll start tomorrow. But you’d better get used to taking orders or I’ll return you to the ranks and train Nathan instead.’
* * *
As luck would have it, the middle of August brought wet and blustery weather that turned the harvesting into a hurried and dismal affair. The King, they heard later, had also suffered from it – having raised his Standard at Nottingham, only to have it topple ignominiously into the mud.
Of the other news, all was fragmentary and none good. The Earl of Northampton, Eden was incensed to hear, had somehow managed to seize the cannon John Fiennes was supposed to have been holding; Prince Rupert had arrived and extorted five hundred pounds for the King from the people of Leicester; the Cavaliers kept Sir William Brereton out of Nantwich while, in Portsmouth, George Goring suddenly declared for the King; and the Irish rebellion grew daily more complex and showed no signs of abating.
Kate, meanwhile, took lessons from Eden in defence and siege-craft but still found time to go riding with her father in order to ask him a simple question in private.
‘Francis,’ she said, ‘was asking about Gianetta’s brother. He wanted to know why the signor was so interested in his second cousin Giles.’
‘Giles Langley?’ Richard’s brows rose a little. ‘He’s dead.’
‘I know. Since Celia was about seven. So why should Signor del Santi want to know about him?’
‘I haven’t the remotest idea,’ replied Richard untruthfully. ‘And neither, I have to say, do I much care. What I would like to discuss is this betrothal of yours.’
‘Oh.’ Kate bent down to adjust the folds of her skirt and kept her voice carefully blank. ‘Why?’
‘You know very well why. I like Kit Clifford – but the times are against him. And I’d be a very poor father indeed if I didn’t object to seeing you placed between two stools.’
‘That was my decision – not Kit’s. And I still don’t see what else I could have done.’
‘Don’t you? Surely the truth is that – if you truly loved him – the threat of war would make you marry him like a shot. But you don’t love him. And I can’t say I’m surprised because – pleasant and eligible as he is – he’s not up to your weight. So I can’t understand why you ever agreed to marry him in the first place – let alone why you haven’t terminated this silly half-and-half arrangement.’ He smiled at her. ‘Well? I’m listening.’
Oh hell, thought Kate. And said, ‘It’s not that simple … but I promise I’ll think about it.’
‘Do,’ said Richard cordially. �
�It would be nice to see you recover your common sense.’
The green eyes rose to meet his with an expression of bitter irony.
‘Personally, I think I’m displaying commendable good sense already. And so would you if you considered how much more unsuitable my choice might have been.’
‘Possibly. But then, of course, you might find my views on a suitable match something of a revelation,’ he retorted with an involuntary choke of laughter. ‘If, that is, I could be persuaded to tell you what they are.’
‘Then why don’t you?’
‘Because there’s no point while you’re tied to Mr Clifford. I will say one thing, though. Don’t grasp at straws and don’t settle for second best. You’re worth more than that, Kate. And, to be frank, I thought you already knew it.’
* * *
Richard returned to Westminster on the day his colleagues decided to shut down London’s playhouses; an act which annoyed him so much that he left the House early and went to Cheapside.
Giacomo admitted him with a pleasure that bordered on rapture and informed him that the signor would be most ’appy.
Richard halted mid-stride. ‘He’s back?’
‘Si. There is much work now.’
‘Is there? The last time I was here, Toby led me to believe that work was more or less non-existent.’
‘That was then,’ Giacomo shrugged. ‘Now is different. Every day people come. You go in the work-room and you see.’
‘I will. No – don’t trouble yourself. I know the way.’
The door to the work-room stood wide and, inside it, Luciano del Santi was sitting at his bench in minute examination of something he held in his hand while Toby and Gino appeared to be pouring molten gold into a mould. Richard stayed where he was until they had finished and then, walking forward, said, ‘Hell’s kitchen, I see. Are you too busy for visitors?’
‘Father!’ Beneath the dirt and sweat, Toby grinned broadly. ‘I thought you were still at home.’
‘Until yesterday, I was – and might as well have stayed there if today’s trivia is to continue … no, Toby. I believe I can wait to embrace you until you’ve washed. I’m quite fond of this coat.’
