A Splendid Defiance

by Stella Riley

  Justin looked at her and was conscious of overwhelming relief. To cover it, he said abruptly, ‘I’ve brought you here under false pretences. I can’t stay long. Christ knows why, but Lord Northampton had Will Tirwhitt discharged from duty this morning and I’m needed. It happened after I saw Sam or I wouldn’t have …’ He stopped and spreading his hands, added, ‘I’m sorry.’

  Disappointment cut her like a knife but she kept it out of both face and voice.

  ‘What is it? Another convoy?’

  ‘No. An enemy patrol. They have a talent for appearing at inopportune moments.’ He paused and, taking her hands, looked searchingly into her face. ‘Why didn’t you come last week? I was worried.’

  ‘Were you? Really?’

  ‘Yes, really. Why are you so surprised?’ He waited and when she merely shook her head, said, ‘Did you stay away because you were angry with me – or because you don’t trust me any more?’

  ‘Neither. It just seemed … it seemed better not to come. I didn’t mean to come today, either.’

  ‘Ah. So why did you?’ The silver-grey eyes watched her intently.

  ‘Because I couldn’t just leave you here to wait.’

  There was a space. Then, ‘No. I suppose you couldn’t. Anyone else – but not you.’

  She tensed with sudden doubt but, before she could ask what he meant, he said, ‘I’m glad you’re all right. I was afraid you might not be. And now I have to go. Dare I ask you to come again next week?’

  The anxiety vanished and her mouth widened into a smile of singular charm.

  ‘You already have, haven’t you? And, what’s more, I’ve a distinct feeling that you’d be astounded if I said no.’

  ‘In other words, you think me both egotistical and selfish.’ He grinned, untethering his horse. ‘And you’re mostly right. I admit it. Are you saying no?’

  ‘Not this time,’ she replied. Not when it must be the last. ‘But if I’m not here on time it will be because I can’t get away – so don’t wait.’

  *

  On Saturday October 4th, the Castle’s titular commander, Lord Northampton, arrived to hold a council of war and the garrison was swamped by a flood of speculative excitement. It was well known that Sir William and his brother the Earl existed in a state of almost perpetual discord and the quarrel that followed the passing-over of Hugh Vaughan in favour of Charles Walrond had been vitriolic in the extreme. Now his lordship had over-ruled Will again by dismissing Captain Tirwhitt – so it was small wonder that the officers gathered in the expectation of seeing the fur fly.

  For a while, it looked as if they were to be disappointed. The Earl was his usual calm, pedantic self and Sir William presented a façade of icy formality. The year’s work since the great siege was reviewed in a series of detailed reports – monies raised by taxation, goods seized from passing rebel convoys, the present state of the Castle defences and levels of powder, match and shot in the arsenal. But when his lordship had finished apportioning praise and criticism in equal measure, he said mildly, ‘And now we come to the case of Captain Tirwhitt.’

  Will Compton sat up a little straighter and Justin and Hugh exchanged glances.

  ‘As you are all aware, Captain Tirwhitt was relieved of his duties last Tuesday on my orders and is now, as I understand it, no longer resident in the Castle.’

  ‘No, he isn’t,’ supplied Will, swiftly. ‘He’s in Oxford, lodging an appeal against his dismissal – on my advice, I may add.’

  Lord Northampton eyed his younger brother with chilly placidity.

  ‘Then you might have spared yourself and him the trouble. My reasons for removing him from his post admit no possibility of redress. The Captain has neglected his duty by frequent spells of absence and also allowed his company to fall under strength.’

  Will’s temper began to show. He said, ‘We all know that Tirwhitt is occasionally a touch unreliable but he’s a good officer. And if running a company of less than regulation numbers is a dismissible offence, you’d better sack every officer in the army. So what else has he done?’

  Angry colour touched his lordship’s cheeks but he kept his voice even.

  ‘He has demeaned me both in word and deed and shown a mutinous and seditious attitude.’

  Will looked blank. ‘How?’

  ‘I see no need to elaborate that point.’

  ‘Well, I do. He’s under my command, after all.’

  ‘No. He is under mine – as are you. And I have decided that he is to be cashiered and his company immediately redistributed.’

  ‘Damn it to hell!’ Will rammed his hands against the table-edge and erupted to his feet. ‘You can’t. I won’t permit it.’

  There was an unpleasant pause and then the Earl said blightingly, ‘You forget yourself, sir. If you cannot conduct yourself appropriately, we will be better served by your absence.’

  This time the silence was catastrophic. Walrond shifted slightly in his seat, Ned drew a long, soundless breath and Justin and Hugh stared at the bright Turkey rug covering the table. The others remained in a state of glorious anticipation.

  Finally, Will resumed his seat, folded his arms and said sardonically, ‘Very well, sir. By all means let’s play by the rules. And since the rules state that no officer may be cashiered in his absence, this hearing must be postponed.’

  ‘Check,’ thought Justin, looking up at last.

  But Lord Northampton was not to be beaten.

  ‘Normally, no. But the circumstances are unusual and I have no time to wait on Captain Tirwhitt’s pleasure. It is a pity you sent him to Oxford for I intend to proceed today – and will require all your signatures on the charge-sheet.’

  ‘Well, you won’t get mine,’ snapped Will. ‘It’s iniquitous.’

  ‘I see.’ The Earl looked round. ‘Do we have any other objections, gentlemen – or may I count on your loyalty and recognition of duty?’

  It was a tug at the leash and every man there knew it. A ripple of acquiescence ran round the table as far as Captain Vaughan … and after a moment’s grim-faced hesitation, he complied with a brief nod and Ned Frost uneasily followed suit.

  Justin removed his gaze from Will Compton’s stormy face to the Earl’s implacable one. Then, rising from his seat, he said clearly, ‘I fear, my lord, that you will have to excuse me. I can’t subscribe to something that condemns a man unheard – and, if that constitutes disloyalty, I can only say that I find it regrettable.’

  Lord Northampton considered him with growing distaste.

  ‘Be very careful, Captain. If, as I suspect, that remark was intended as a criticism not only of myself but also the King’s dismissal of Prince Rupert, you may possibly find yourself treading the same path as Captain Tirwhitt.’

  The grey eyes gleamed mockingly. ‘On what charge, my lord?’

  The Earl discovered that he had no suitable answer and therefore said coldly, ‘I think that you would be wise to remove yourself from this meeting.’

  Justin saluted smartly.

  ‘I think so too, my lord.’ And he went.

  *

  By the time the following Tuesday came round, Cromwell had taken Winchester and was marching on the Cavalier stronghold of Basing House with its large population of Royalist refugees.

  ‘I wish to God,’ said Justin grimly to Abigail, ‘that some of the eternal optimism would give way to plain common-sense. If Montrose still had an army, we’d have heard of it by now and no fortress in this land is impregnable. Yet everyone seems determined to believe that Montrose will sweep south in a blaze of glory and that Basing House is no more than a means of wasting Cromwell’s time. It’s crass stupidity. We’ve achieved nothing all year – so what hope do we have now His Majesty has embittered half the army with his treatment of Rupert?’

  ‘Have you heard from the Prince?’ asked Abigail, snatching at the flying edge of her cloak.

  It was a chilly day of grey, windy skies and, since it was too cold to sit down anywhere, Justin had taken
her up before him on his horse and was cantering along Cherwell Edge. Her shoulder was against his chest, his arm lay around her waist and every moment of such proximity was a bitter-sweet torment.

  ‘No. As far as I know, he’s still kicking his heels in Oxford.’ He bent a satirical brow on her. ‘And how is that other popular hero, Lilburne? I hear he’s been let out again.’

  ‘He has and he’s already written a new pamphlet. It’s called England’s Birthright.’

  ‘And you’ve already seen a copy.’ It was not a question.

  ‘Yes. It says the Merchant Adventurers are a vile, illegal monopoly and an offence against the free-born subject. I don’t think Jonas is going to be impressed. He used to deal with them quite a lot before the war because they control the buying and selling of cloth in London.’ She smiled wryly. ‘His connection with them used to be his second greatest source of pride.’

  Justin laughed. ‘And the first?’

  ‘His good name. If something damaged that, I think he’d go completely insane.’

  They breasted the rise overlooking the small stone and thatch village of Chacombe and Justin reined in, suggesting that they walk a little. Abigail nodded and let him help her down, relief warring with regret at being released from the terrible delight of his nearness.

  For a while they walked on in silence and then, attempting to escape her thoughts, Abigail asked about CaptainTirwhitt.

  Justin’s face hardened.

  ‘He went to Oxford to appeal and was cashiered in his absence. Will’s foaming at the mouth over it.’

  ‘Oh.’ Silence fell again, until finally she said abruptly, ‘When the war is over – what will you do?’

  ‘Go abroad – to France or Germany. Wherever the best prospects appear to be.’

  The dark eyes grew bleak. ‘It must be a strange life.’

  ‘Strange?’ He considered it. ‘I suppose you would think so. It’s certainly no life for the man who is fond of his hearthstone. But if you’ve a reasonable amount of ambition and no desire for the ties of permanent relationships, it’s probably as good a life as any. The rewards may be variable but the company can be amusing. At any rate, it suits me.’ He grinned suddenly, ‘But then, as you’ve observed for yourself, I’m selfish.’

  She stopped and, turning away from him a little, gazed out over the scattering of cottages below her.

  ‘You speak as if you never intend to marry.’

  ‘I probably won’t. Firstly because I value my freedom and can’t offer a woman either a home or even security; and secondly because mercenaries wives inevitably fall into one of two categories. They weep and wail and cling – or they seek consolation in some other fellow’s bed. And I couldn’t tolerate either.’

  ‘I see.’ There was a certain implied contradiction in his words but she did not trouble to point it out. ‘You have a fairly low opinion of women, don’t you?’

  ‘Of a good many of them, yes.’ Irony deepened in his voice. ‘I learned it early and it’s saved me many a disappointment. You should understand that, at least – for your own expectations are pretty low, aren’t they?’

  Startled, she said, ‘Yes. But that’s different.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘You know it is. Girls have so few alternatives. My future will be decided by Jonas and it will either be that of a merchant’s wife or a useful spinster aunt. Neither is an appealing prospect but I won’t even be allowed to choose between them.’

  He eyed her meditatively.

  ‘And if you were free? What then?’

  ‘I don’t know. The only thing I’m sure of is that I don’t want to marry someone like Jonas.’

  ‘Now there’s an appalling thought,’ commented Justin with a flippancy he did not actually feel. ‘But you don’t dislike the idea of marriage in itself?’

  ‘No.’ A hint of colour touched her cheeks. ‘Not if it was with someone I loved and who loved me. But that’s not very likely.’

  Her tone seared something inside him and he said bracingly, ‘I don’t see why not. You’re young yet. You’ve plenty of time to meet a man you’ll care for. And as long as you don’t choose a confirmed bachelor like myself, I think you’ll find that man won’t have any difficulty in loving you in return.’

  This was too close for comfort and she did not even attempt a reply. Instead, she said, ‘I think we should go back. Jonas comes home earlier now the evenings are drawing in.’

  He looked at her, watching the wind whip the tiny curls that edged her face.

  ‘What have I said to send you into retreat? You surely don’t think I was warning you off?’

  ‘Warning me off what?’ she asked blankly.

  ‘Me,’ came the laconic reply.

  She drew a ragged breath. ‘No. Were you?’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’ He smiled with sudden, ridiculous charm. ‘I think you’re the only female I ever met who had neither schemes nor artifice and who has never made demands of me. You have no idea how pleasant it is. Do you really want to go back?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Abigail. Preferably to a point before this conversation took place. ‘But before we do … I think this is the last time we can meet like this. So I wanted to say goodbye to you here, in private, rather than at Bridge Bar where there’s always a chance we might be seen.’

  Her words produced an unexpected jolt. ‘Goodbye?’

  ‘Yes. It has to be, don’t you think? I can’t come to the Castle, you can’t come to the shop and these meetings can’t continue. Also, if you are right and the war is all but over, your time here will be done and you’ll leave.’ She paused and forced the words past the ache in her throat, ‘After today, it’s unlikely we’ll see each other again.’

  ‘Not necessarily.’ Justin was faintly shocked to discover that he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her yet. He had embarked on this road to weaken Jonas Radford’s stranglehold over Abby and hoped he had done so. But their Tuesdays had become a part of his life – a part he looked forward to – and he didn’t want them to end. He said, ‘If I could find some other way —’

  ‘You can’t. And, even if you did, the risks would be too great.’ She knew, as she suspected he did not, that if her perfidy were ever discovered, Jonas would do a great deal more than merely lock her in her room. Worse still, if she continued seeing him, Justin would eventually realise how she felt about him – and that couldn’t be allowed to happen. ‘I wish things were different. But they’re not.’

  Justin looked at her moodily, aware that she was right; aware also that it was unreasonable to be annoyed by the fact that, although uncharacteristically remote, she seemed so calm about it. It suddenly also occurred to him that he was no longer seeing her as a child. For while he had successfully taken for granted the sensitive mind, the compassionate warmth and the incredible sweetness, he found that he could neither ignore nor quite forget her unchildlike response to his mouth. It was bloody annoying because there was absolutely no reason why, out of a hundred kisses, he should be inconvenienced by the memory of this one. And now she was standing there serenely saying goodbye. He wondered if kissing her again might change that … but immediately dismissed it as a remarkably stupid idea. And anyway, he’d promised.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Abigail, puzzled by his expression. And then, when he didn’t answer, ‘Captain Ambrose?’

  ‘I thought,’ he said irritably, ‘that I’d asked you to call me Justin.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No? Why the devil not?’

  ‘No, you haven’t asked,’ she sighed. ‘And if you’re going to speak to me in that tone of voice, I’m more likely to call you sir.’

  His mouth relaxed.

  ‘I beg your pardon. Please, dear Abby, will you do me the honour of using my given name?’

  ‘If you wish – and think there’s any point. Is that all that was bothering you?’

  ‘Not quite. I was wondering how old you are.’

  ‘I’ll be twenty, next April. I suppose you tho
ught I was a precocious fourteen?’

  ‘Something like that,’ he agreed absently. ‘But don’t let it trouble you. You’ll be glad of it when you’re thirty and still passing for twenty-one.’

  ‘Will I?’ she asked with sudden irony. ‘What on earth for?’ Then, before he could answer, ‘We ought to start back. If we don’t, I’ll be late.’

  ‘And that would never do, would it?’ Justin took to the saddle, reached down to lift her up in front of him and set the horse in motion. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Of course I don’t want you to get in trouble. It’s just that I’ve never much cared for taking you back there – and today, less so than ever. Is there nowhere else you could go?’

  ‘Nowhere Jonas couldn’t drag me back from.’

  The rest of the ride was accomplished largely in silence and, seated once more in the circle of his arm, with her every nerve stretched and tingling, Abigail was glad of it. She had not known that physical attraction could be so strong and it alarmed her. Perhaps Jonas was right after all. Perhaps she was wanton.

  Inconspicuous against the shadowed curve of the bridge, Barbara Atkins watched their approach out of hard, blue eyes. He had lied to her, then. He had told her there was no one else when all the time he had been seeing that plain, mealy-mouthed Abby Radford. It was the worst insult he could have offered; even worse than the things he’d said. But she would teach him a lesson – him and that deceitful little cat he was hugging so close up there on his horse. Her fingers clenched tight on her cloak and, turning her back on the objects of her wrath, she walked swiftly away towards the town.

  Justin, meanwhile, had reined in and was about to lower Abigail from the saddle when she looked into his eyes and said, ‘I wanted to thank you.’

  He shook his head, noting that she looked much less composed now.

  ‘You have nothing to thank me for.’

  ‘I do. You’ve shown me something of the world beyond Shop Row; you’ve talked to me and listened; you’ve provided a few hours of escape and of freedom. All things I never had before.’ And you’ve taught me what love feels like … something else I doubt I’ll know again. ‘It – the time we’ve spent together has meant a great deal to me. More than I can explain.’