Her Rebel Heart: A romance of the English Civil War

by Alison Stuart

  She thought of those long, hard fingers and their gentle touch on her skin, and for a moment her knees went weak. Luke, her would-be lover, her wooer was not this man. Luke Collyer, the soldier, sat at the table and that was how she had to deal with him.

  She dropped the key on the table in front of him. He looked at it without moving.

  “Keep it,” he said. “I don't have time to be your sister's jailer. It would be better for you to take care of her.”

  “How long to do you intend to keep her locked up?” Deliverance enquired.

  Luke looked up. The steel had gone from his eyes and in that brief unguarded moment she saw the difficult position Penitence’s selfish actions had put him in. Condemning a man to death had to be the hardest decision he would ever have to make, particularly a man whose only real crime was loyalty to his mistress..

  “For as long as is necessary.”

  “You don't really think that she was passing intelligence to Jack, do you?”

  “I don't know what to think, Deliverance. She may not have been aware she was doing it. A wrong word, a whispered confidence could have been all it took.”

  “What about Truscott?”

  His face instantly hardened. “There is no excusing Truscott. This is war, Deliverance. No quarter was given to the garrison at Byton remember. Is that what you want for Kinton Lacey?”

  She lowered her eyes and shook her head.

  He pushed the goblet away and ran a hand over his eyes. “Deliverance, Farrington knows everything that is going on within these walls. Someone is passing him that information. Whether it was Penitence or something she may have said to Jack without thought, lives will be lost and Truscott is as much a party to those deaths as if he had been the one who had handed over the information himself. An example has to be set.”

  “I see,” Deliverance said with a heavy heart.

  He looked up at her. “You're not going to argue with me?”

  She shook her head. “No, because as awful as it sounds, you are right, Luke. Now excuse me, I am going to bed.”

  She left him alone in the Great Hall and crawled alone into the big bed. She had become used to sharing it with Penitence.

  She lay awake thinking of her sister and her love for Jack Farrington, and felt nothing but pity. A way had to be found of making this right.

  Chapter 17

  Luke stood back and let Hale unbolt the door of the room in the Jewel Tower where they had incarcerated Jack Farrington. He had given the prisoner six hours to consider his fate and to judge by his red-rimmed eyes and hollow cheeks, they must have been very long hours indeed.

  Farrington sprang to his feet. “Is Penitence all right? What have you done to her?”

  “She's fine,” Luke said. “Just trimmed her wings a little. Sit down, Farrington, we need to talk.”

  Jack subsided on to the stool and buried his head in his hands.

  “She's innocent,” he mumbled. “We both are.”

  Luke surveyed the wretched specimen of manhood. He was almost on the point of believing the pair's protestations. They were probably guilty of nothing more than stupidity but lesser men had been hanged for that crime.

  “What am I to do with you?” Luke said, with a heavy sigh. “The last thing I need at the moment is a prisoner. We barely have enough to feed the garrison.” He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. “If I am to believe that you and Penitence are not the traitors, who does your brother have working for him in the Castle?”

  Jack looked up, genuine surprise on his face. “I've no idea. Charles keeps his own counsel on these matters. “

  So would I, thought Luke. This man seemed incapable of dissembling and Luke admitted to himself that he had to accept Jack told the truth.

  “So your meetings with Penitence Felton were nothing more than lover's trysts?”

  “You have my word on it,” Jack said, misery written on his face and in the way his shoulders slumped.

  Luke studied the younger man for a full minute without speaking. He considered the value of interrogating Jack at greater length about his brother's plans, if Jack was privy to them, which he doubted.

  Jack's main worth to him was as a hostage. Even if Charles Farrington was incapable of feeling anything for anyone Charles would still have to answer to his father, and mother, about his brother’s fate and that made him useful.

  He wondered about Jack's relationship with his brother and it made him think of his own brother, Nicholas, whose face he dreaded seeing on a battlefield. Every time he had taken the field, he had scanned the faces of the men he faced wondering if would he even recognise Nick before it was too late.

  “What are you going to do with me?” Jack ventured, rousing Luke from his reverie.

  Luke straightened and turned for the door. “Nothing for the moment. Enjoy the rest but I warn you the neighbours can be a little rowdy.”

  As his hand touched the latch, Jack's voice came from behind him.

  “Collyer.”

  Luke turned his head to look at the young man. Jack looked up at the narrow window embrasure and sighed. “Collyer, there is something I need to talk to you about.”

  Luke turned back into the room and stood looking down at the younger man. “I'm listening.”

  An hour later, Luke left the room, shutting and locking the door behind him. He tossed the key in his hand. He couldn't spare a man to guard the room and with a Farrington agent on the loose he trusted the key to no one but himself. Back in his bedchamber he found a leather thong and hung the key around his neck.

  Coming downstairs in the morning, Deliverance found herself confronted by a deputation of Kinton Lacey men. She had known them all her life and she knew why they had come. She listened to them plead the case for Truscott and promised she would do what she could to ensure he did not hang at noon.

  After they had left she sat in the large chair at the long table and looked up at the portraits of her Felton forebears. What did you do when you could see both sides of an argument? She didn't think Truscott deserved to hang for being complicit in a lovers' tryst but on the other hand they had four hundred men at their gates intent on their destruction. As Luke would say, this was war, in all its brutality, and it was about setting an example. Putting her personal feelings to one side she understood that they could not afford to risk such a breach of discipline or there would be deaths, more deaths than just the life of one man. However pure his motives, Truscott had to be punished.

  Her fingers tapped the table. Maybe a good flogging might have the desired effect? She had never seen a man flogged. Her guts clenched at the thought but surely it had to be better than hanging.

  She rose and went in search of Luke. From the top of the stairs leading to the residence she saw him striding across the courtyard towards the Hawk Tower. She caught up with him as he entered the staircase.

  “Luke.”

  “Good morning, Mistress Felton,” he said without breaking stride.

  “I have to talk to you about Truscott,” she said.

  “You talked to me about Truscott last night. There is nothing more to be said.”

  His pace and her skirts made the climb up the narrow circular staircase difficult, and she was panting with the exertion, which made pleading a cause extremely difficult.

  As she puffed behind him, he continued to ignore her, taking the stairs two at a time.

  A light breeze fluttered the Felton pennant at the top of Hawk Tower, and Deliverance leaned against the doorway catching her breath while Luke crossed to the wall. He laid a hand on one of the weathered hawks and gazed out across the besieging forces.

  Deliverance took up a place beside him. She considered going down on her knees like a true supplicant but that thought galled her and she decided to leave that measure to the last.

  “Luke, please. I am asking you to show clemency for Truscott.”

  “Tell me again why I should do that?” he said, his gaze not moving from the enemy encampment.


  “What he did was wrong but you have to understand he has known Penitence since she was born. He...any of my men...would do anything for her.”

  “Just because a pretty woman asks you to do something you know is wrong is no excuse, Deliverance.”

  “I know this is a war and I know Jack Farrington is our enemy but before that he was our friend and betrothed to Penitence. This is a civil war, Luke. It's not as if the Farringtons are foreign enemy. Jack has been coming to Kinton Lacey since he was a boy.”

  “Someone within this castle is prepared to sell all our lives to the enemy, Deliverance. I know it's not Truscott but an example has to be set.”

  “Surely some lesser punishment?” She swallowed. “A flogging?”

  Luke straightened.

  “Luke—”

  “This is not the time for discussion. Get down!” Luke turned, leaping at Deliverance and taking her to the ground as the Thunderer let off a mighty roar. The world exploded around them.

  Deliverance hit the stonework with such force it knocked the breath from her. Instinctively she put her arms over her head as showers of dust and pieces of stone rained down around her. She knew what had happened. Hawk Tower had taken a direct hit from the Thunderer.

  She lay for a long time, her eyes tightly closed, fighting for breath, incapable of moving. She drew a shaky breath and tentatively moved her fingers and toes. She felt no pain but there appeared to be a heavy weight lying across body and she couldn’t move her arms or legs. She opened her eyes blinking at the brightness of the sky. Luke lay sprawled across her, pinning her to the ground.

  He lay quite still with his face turned away from her and she realised he must have thrown himself across her as the cannon ball hit.

  “Luke?”

  When he didn’t respond, she freed her pinioned arms and pushed at him but he didn't move. Dear God, he couldn’t be dead…could he?

  “Luke?” She touched his head and hastily removed her hand when she felt something warm and wet. She looked at her fingers, sticky with Luke's blood. The breath stopped in her throat.

  No, he can’t be dead…

  With difficulty, she wriggled out from underneath him. Her heart hammering she knelt beside his senseless body, her hands fluttering uselessly over him. Blood matted his dark hair just above his right ear, dripping down his face and transforming the familiar features into a bloody mask.

  A musket ball zinged past her ear and she looked up, seeing the place where she and Luke had been standing arguing about Truscott only moments before, was now a gaping hole as if some giant had taken a bite out of the tower. Bits of rock and dust lay scattered across the full width of the remaining platform of the tower. Nothing stood between her and a long fall to the ground and she was completely exposed to the enemy lines. Musketeers lined the nearest earthwork, intent on only one thing.

  Her death.

  She stood up and seizing Luke by the collar, dragged him towards the stairwell. She had no idea an unconscious man could weigh so much and without help she’d never get him down to safety. Another musket ball whistled over her head, crashing into the wall behind her.

  In the shelter of the doorway, she crouched down. At least they were now out of sight of the musketeers and she could see to Luke.

  She gathered herself together and forced herself to look down at his slack, blood spattered face.

  “You’re not dead,” she told him. “You can’t be dead.”

  She tugged at his collar and her shaking fingers searched for and found the pulse in his neck, beating slow and steady. She realised she had been holding her breath and let out a sigh of relief. Having established he was still alive she turned her attention to the wound in his hairline. It had bled profusely but on close inspection did not look like much more than a deep cut.

  “Luke, wake up!” She patted his cheek with some force.

  He stirred and moaned but did not open his eyes.

  Hearing footsteps on the stairs she looked up as Ned and two men appeared around the corner. Ned's eyes travelled from the gaping hole in the tower to Luke's unconscious face.

  “He's alive,” Deliverance said in answer to the unspoken question on Ned's face.

  Relief flooded Ned’s face. “And you? Are you all right?”

  Deliverance nodded concealing her shaking hands in the folds of her skirt. Now she started to think about it, her legs had begun to feel most peculiar too. She sat back against the wall.

  “Just a little wobbly.”

  Luke...she wanted to say Luke had saved her life but couldn't find the words.

  Ned knelt down beside his friend and slapped his face with considerably more force than Deliverance had used. The action provoked a groan from Luke and his eyes flickered open.

  “What...? Ouch.” He closed his eyes again with a grimace.

  “You've had a knock on the head, Collyer. Lots of blood but I doubt there's any real damage. You were always blessed with a thick skull.”

  “Go away… my head hurts,” Luke mumbled.

  Ned stood up dusting his breeches and gestured to the two soldiers waiting in the stairwell. “Get him to his chamber. I'll see to Mistress Felton.”

  After the two soldiers had none-too-gently hefted Luke by his shoulders and legs and begun the tortuous descent down the narrow winding stairs, Ned put his hand out for Deliverance. She rose up on shaking legs and did not demur at the strong male arm that circled her shoulders, helping her down the stairs and across the courtyard to the sanctuary of her own bedchamber and the care of her women.

  Deliverance sat on the stool in her bed chamber looking down at the blood on her hands. Luke's blood. At the thought of how close they had both come to death and how he had saved her life, she began to cry. What if he had died? What would she do without him?

  Meg put an arm around her mistress. “There, there, ma'am,” she said. “You've had a nasty fright. I'll go and fetch a nice posset for ye.”

  “I'd prefer brandy,” Deliverance said. She fumbled at her belt and handed her keys to the maid. “It's in the locked cupboard in my father's library and” she looked up at Meg, “can you release my sister and send her to me.”

  “Aye, mistress. Right away,” Meg said.

  As her maid reached the door, Deliverance added, “and give Lieutenant Barrett an order from me. I am reprieving Truscott's sentence of death.”

  Meg's eyes widened slightly but she bobbed a neat curtsey and left without comment.

  Alone, Deliverance wrapped her arms around herself, rocking back and forth as the tears poured down her dusty cheeks. She didn't even hear the door open, or her sister enter the room until she felt Penitence's arms around her.

  “Oh, Liv, thank the Lord you are safe,” Penitence said. “I heard the explosion. Meg says you and Collyer were on Hawk Tower when the round hit.”

  Deliverance sobbed into her sister's shoulder. “He saved my life, Pen.”

  “Who?”

  “Luke and now he's hurt. What if he dies?”

  Penitence hushed her as if she were a child as Meg reappeared with the brandy and water. Together the two women washed the worst of the dust and dirt from Deliverance’s face and hands but when they suggested she take to her bed to rest, she refused. Instead she took a hefty gulp of brandy and rose unsteadily to her feet.

  “I'm fine. Don’t fuss,” she lied.

  “Liv, you've had a nasty shock. I really think you should rest.”

  “I need to see if Luke is all right.”

  “I'll go,” Penitence offered.

  Deliverance shook her head. “No. I must see for myself.”

  At the door she stopped. “Pen, you must give me your word, you won't try and see Jack?”

  Penitence's mouth drooped and she nodded. “You have my parole. Just please don't lock me up again.”

  With Toby still incarcerated, Deliverance found his sister in attendance in Luke's bed chamber. Lovedie looked up from winding clean bandages as Deliverance entered. She
stood and dropped a curtsey.

  Deliverance waved a hand at the door.

  “You can leave.”

  Lovedie didn't move.

  “You should rest, Mistress Felton,” Lovedie said. “You've had a bad fright today.”

  “I'm fine. I'll sit with Captain Collyer for a little while. Please fetch me a little broth.”

  Lovedie's mouth compressed in a tight line and she gave Deliverance another small bob curtsey before leaving the room.

  Deliverance waited until the door shut behind the girl before moving across to the bed. She stood for a moment looking down into Luke's ashen face, made paler by the neat bandage tied around his head. A slight starring of crimson on the white linen marked where the wound had bled but it did not seem to be spreading

  Deliverance sat down on the end of Luke's bed, pulling her feet up beneath her. She wrapped her arms around her knees, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest as she remembered the argument that had preceded the missile thrown up by the Thunderer. If those had been the last words they had exchanged…

  He stirred and grimaced, life flooding back into his face. His eyes opened and he looked up at the panelled ceiling of Sir John Felton's best bed.

  “How do you feel?” Deliverance asked.

  He raised his head slightly to see where the voice had come from and fell back on the pillows with a curse. “I've got a headache to rival the worst excesses of drink,” he said closing his eyes. He beckoned her with his right hand, patting the bed next to him. “Move closer...can't see you down there.”

  Deliverance obliged, perching on the side of the bed next to him. He looked up at her and smiled.

  “How are you?”

  “I'm fine...thanks to you. You saved my life,” Deliverance said, her fingers closing over his hand that lay on the outside of the covers.

  “Anything to silence you.” He closed his eyes and grimaced. “What were we arguing about?”

  “Nothing of importance,” Deliverance said.

  Not now she had taken command and rescinded the execution order. Luke didn’t need to be bothered with such things right now.