Her Rebel Heart: A romance of the English Civil War

by Alison Stuart

“Not a decision made lightly, Charles,” he responded. “But I couldn't in all conscience go on serving under you. Not after what you did at Byton.”

  “They were rebels. We needed to set an example.” He swept his hand around the assembled garrison. “So these bastards knew what to expect.”

  “There are some rules to war, Farrington,” Luke said. “And what you did will see you hanged. You are my prisoner and I intend to see you stand trial for the coldblooded murder of the Byton garrison.”

  He gestured to Sergeant Hale and another of his men. “Lock him up.”

  “I'll see you all hang first,” Farrington shouted over his shoulder as he was led away, spittle flying from his mouth. “Wait till my father gets word of this impudence.”

  “Jack!” Penitence emerged from the door of the gatehouse and ran through the crowd to reach her lover. He swung her into his arms and another roar of approval went up from the garrison.

  Luke shook his head. Young lovers were more trouble than they were worth. Love was more trouble… but perhaps it was worth it.

  He held Deliverance closer. “You need to get some rest,” he whispered.

  She nodded. “Later but first tell me how did the men get into the ditch without being seen?”

  Ned grinned. “Can't you guess?”

  Deliverance put a hand to her nose. “You came through the south ditch?”

  Ned nodded. “Oddly Farrington didn't seem to pay the south ditch much attention, but I think we would all be grateful if the water and soap could be spared to allow us the dignity of a good wash.”

  Deliverance nodded. “Immediately,” she said.

  “Capn' Sir!” One of the men on the curtain called down. “Come and see.”

  Luke released Deliverance and bounded up the stairs to join the man on the wall.

  “Look!”

  “What's happening?” Deliverance stood at his side.

  “They're pulling out,” Luke said as he scanned the distant movement of men and wagons.

  “Is it over?” Deliverance asked, her voice cracked with emotion.

  “It will be by tonight.”

  She looked up at him, all exhaustion banished. “We did it! Oh, Luke, we did it!”

  Her arms circled his neck and all modesty and decorum abandoned, they kissed to an accompaniment of whoops and catcalls.

  Luke looked down at the courtyard. “That's enough cheek from you lot. They've not gone yet, so to your posts all of you and you, my lady, need to go and get some rest before you fall over. Go!”

  He watched as she descended back into the courtyard and crossed over to the residence, a small, defiant figure. She had caused him to take the biggest risk of his life and he would do it again, and gladly.

  A clean and perfumed Ned found Luke in the library where Toby had brought him a tray of something unidentifiable that the cook had described as ‘dinner’.

  Ned sat down with a heartfelt sigh. “I think you owe me an explanation.”

  “I do,” Luke agreed. “What do you suppose this is?” He held up a piece of unidentifiable matter.

  “A turnip?” Ned suggested.

  Luke wrinkled his nose and pushed the plate to one side. Tonight they would eat properly. “What do you want to know?”

  “Jack Farrington?”

  “That night we took Jack Farrington prisoner I had a long talk to him. He was wavering in his loyalty to his brother so I just let him talk. By the end he had convinced himself to turn his cloak. I didn’t do anything.”

  “And you didn't think to tell me?” Ned looked aggrieved.

  “In fairness, Ned, events rather got ahead of us.”

  Ned sat back with his hands behind his head and looked up at the ceiling. “Not an easy decision for Jack. It wasn't just about Penitence then?”

  Luke shook his head. “A man can be ruled by the contents of his breeches but I think he was genuinely appalled by his brother's handiwork at Byton. Jack Farrington is a man of conscience and honor, and while it is not an easy matter to turn against your own family, Charles' own actions forced him to it.”

  “I suppose you would know,” Ned observed.

  The old pain turned like a knife in Luke’s heart as he thought about his own brother, Nick, but Nick was no Charles Farrington. In that talk with Jack, he deemed it prudent to confide his own family story as a way of drawing Jack to the decision to turncoat. He had no doubt that Jack would be incapable of keeping the story from Penitence and Penitence in her turn would tell Deliverance.

  The time had come. He needed to get to Deliverance first.

  “Mercifully my brother is an honourable man,” Luke said. “He would never do what Charles did at Byton.”

  “But how did you know Jack would turn the pistol on his brother?” Ned enquired.

  “I didn't. I just had to trust him to rise to the occasion.”

  “If he hadn't?”

  “Then you would have had to carry through the attack and hope they were startled enough, or repelled by your smell, to let us get away without too many casualties.”

  Ned shook his head. “You took a gamble.”

  “A huge gamble,” Luke agreed. He gestured at the window with its broken glass, beyond which they could hear the sound of the departing royalists. “But it paid off. My guess is they are heading back to Ludlow to report to Sir Richard and lick their wounds.”

  “The older Farrington will be back though.”

  Luke shook his head. “Not while I'm holding his son.” He drew a deep breath. “We need to get Charles Farrington to Gloucester for trial.”

  “A problem for the morning.” Ned rose to his feet and clapped his friend on the shoulder. “But for the time being, I think a celebration is called for.”

  Luke nodded. “We'll kill some of the cattle and send out a patrol to see what our besiegers have left. I think there is still a cask of Sir John's wine that is unbroached.”

  “Leave it to me.” Ned saluted and left the room.

  Luke, suddenly exhausted, leaned back in Sir John's chair and studied the severe face that glared down at him from the wall.

  “Well, Sir John,” he said aloud. “I think you can be proud of your daughter.”

  Chapter 21

  Deliverance woke to someone shaking her shoulder. She buried her face deeper into the bolster.

  “Wake up,” Luke's voice whispered in her ear. “I think you might want to see this.”

  “Go away,” she mumbled.

  A finger lightly traced a line down the back of her neck. Lips followed lightly touching the nape of her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

  Deliverance rolled over and looked up blearily into Luke's smiling face.

  “See what?”

  He gave a low-throated growl. “You look lovely when you are only half-awake.”

  “So do you,” she murmured, remembering the words spoken aloud while he was under the influence of Lovedie's sleeping draught.

  He put his arms either side of her, pinning her to the bed. His lips curled and his eyes gleamed with mischief.

  “Why did you wake me?” she asked as he lifted his right hand and tugged at the lace of her chemise.

  “Hmm, now you mention it there’s no hurry,” he murmured as he slid the garment away from her shoulders.

  He kissed the soft spot at the base of her throat and drew back, touching the place where Lovedie’s knife had drawn blood.

  “Oh, Deliverance,” he said with a shake of his head. He pulled her chemise back into place and stood. “Time for that later. Get dressed. I want to show you something.”

  She pulled herself up on one elbow, running the other hand through her hair. The soft golden glow of late afternoon wove its way in to the room around the roughly-nailed boards. After the drama of the morning, she had barely made it to her bed, falling asleep in her clothes. Someone, Penitence probably had taken off her boots and loosened her bodice. She must look a fright.

  “What time is it?”

  “Ab
out five in the afternoon,” he said.

  “I've been asleep for hours.”

  “You needed the rest. Now up, my lady, and come with me.”

  He pulled her toward him and kissed her first on the forehead, then the nose and finally the mouth. When they stopped to draw breath, he spoke in a hoarse tone. “You are a terrible distraction.”

  Releasing her, he waited outside the room while Meg helped her dress.

  “I would love to have a wash,” she grumbled as she joined him.

  “Plenty of time for that.” He took her hand, pulling her toward the stairs. “Hurry.”

  For a moment she had to stop and think what was different. Light from the lowering sun flooded through the open gates into the courtyard and the garrison and household were streaming out across the bridge.

  She squeezed the hand that held hers and he answered her unspoken question.

  “They've gone but they left us a present.”

  They followed the crowd across the empty area between the castle and the village to the abandoned fortifications. Deliverance stopped in her tracks and gasped.

  “They left the Thunderer!”

  “Evidently decided it was too cumbersome to bother with. Sir Richard will rue the loss of this beast even more than that of his sons,” Luke said.

  As they neared the great gun. Sergeant Hale, bared to the waist, jumped up on the steps behind the gun that enabled the gun crew to light the fuse. He carried a massive mallet and he held this aloft to the cheers of the crowd.

  In his other hand he raised a long, iron spike. With deliberate theatricality he placed the spike over the firing hole in the gun and crowd began to chant.

  “Spike! Spike!”

  He raised the mallet and brought it down with a mighty crash against the head of the spike driving it into the hole. He repeated this only two more times before the spike went home and the Thunderer would fire no more.

  A mighty cheer went up to see the great gun that had brought them so much misery over the last few weeks reduced to an impotent lump of iron.

  The sisters squabbled about who would wear the red dress to the celebration. To have such a petty, normal quarrel after all the weeks of tension made them both stop and fall on the bed laughing. In the end Penitence insisted Deliverance should wear it and Penitence, who would look like a princess in sack cloth and ashes had to content herself with her blue satin.

  “You might have told me about Luke,” Penitence grumbled as she attempted, not with any great success, to coax Deliverance's straight hair into more fashionable curls.

  “I still don’t believe it myself. What does a man like Luke Collyer see in me?”

  “Men are strange creatures,” Penitence, woman of the world, mused.

  Deliverance caught her sister's hand and kissed it. “Well, your Jack certainly surprised me. I never thought he had it in him. Luke and I both owe him our lives.”

  Penitence returned to Deliverance's hair. “Surely, Father can have no objection to our marriage now?”

  “Even if Jack is cut off by his father?”

  “I would live in a hovel with him,' Penitence said, her face serious.”And I think you need to ask your Luke about divided families.”

  Deliverance swivelled on the stool and looked up at her sister. “What do you know about Luke's family?”

  When Penitence didn't reply, Deliverance continued. “He told me his family has taken the King's part.”

  “Yes but he hasn't told you who his family is, has he?”

  Deliverance shook her head, sending a shower of pins to the floor.

  “I give up.” Penitence threw her hands in the air. “He'll just have to take you as you are.”

  She combed out the freshly washed hair so it fell in dark, straight, silken sheets across Deliverance's shoulders. “Love has made you truly beautiful, Liv,” she said, dropping a kiss on her sister's head.

  “And you, Pen.” Deliverance looked up at her sister and smiled.

  Penitence straightened and looked at the door. She turned back to her sister, her eyes shining. “I can hear music, shall we go down?”

  She took Deliverance by the hand and like a pair of young girls, they ran down the stairs, stopping at the screen door to make their entrance.

  Deliverance had rarely seen the Great Hall so crowded. As well as the garrison and the household, some of the local men had retrieved their families. Trestles lined both sides of the hall and every available surface had been decorated with greenery and summer flowers. A makeshift group of musicians had installed themselves in one corner and a fiddler, Deliverance recognised as one of Luke's men, played a cheerful jig. Sergeant Hale standing near the door, saw the two women first.

  “Silence!” he bellowed and all eyes turned to the door. “Mistress Deliverance Felton and Mistress Penitence Felton.”

  A roar went up and a round of applause that nearly lifted the much-patched roof off the hall. The crowd parted as the two women entered, allowing them their first glimpse of the officers of the garrison: Luke, Ned, Melchior Blakelocke and Jack Farrington. A high table had been set across the end to form a U and they stood beside it, applauding, all clean, and shaved, and wearing whatever passed for their best clothes.

  Deliverance had eyes only for Luke. He wore the mulberry-coloured jacket and like the others sported a barbered chin. His hair stuck up on one side where he had been struck by the rock and washing and combing would have been painful but otherwise she had never seen him looking so handsome. Her insides turned to water. Whatever would happen from now, they would have tonight.

  He held out his hand and she took it. He bowed and she curtsied, and the crowd went wild, whooping and thumping the tables. Luke's shoulders shook as he laughed, pulling her in beside him.

  With one arm around her shoulders he raised his other hand calling for silence.

  “We are here to celebrate a victory,” he said. “In the great scheme of things it is a small victory but all of us here will remember how one little garrison held out against a mighty force.” This was met by another round of cheering. Luke continued. “However we should also remember our comrades who fell in the gallant defence of Kinton Lacey and give due thanks to God for our liberation. Sergeant Hale will lead us in prayers of thanksgiving.”

  Hale puffed out his bear like chest and began. As Deliverance had expected the prayers were fulsome and lengthy. When he eventually finished to a resounding amen, Luke raised his hand, indicating for the food to be brought in and the celebration to begin.

  The table groaned with roast beef and freshly baked bread. Deliverance breathed in the smell as Luke poured red wine from a jug into the Felton's best glassware.

  “Where did you find all this?” she asked Luke.

  Ned replied. “Farrington's men left the private stores.

  Charles liked to live well.”

  “And what is he eating tonight?” Penitence asked.

  Luke grinned. “Our leftover stew from yesterday washed down with water.”

  “What will you do with him?”

  “Get him to Gloucester to stand trial as soon as possible. I could try him here and trust me nothing would give me greater pleasure than to hang him but...” He cast a quick glance towards Jack. “I think it better that he meets his maker at the hands of someone else.” He curled a strand of Deliverance's hair and smiled. “Enough gloomy talk. Do you dance, Mistress Felton?”

  A lively country jig had struck up and the couples were taking to the floor between the tables. Even those members of the garrison without female partners were stomping around with each other. Luke stood up and with one hand correctly placed behind his back, he offered Deliverance his hand.

  Deliverance rose to her feet.

  “Do you know how to dance?” she enquired.

  Luke shot her an aggrieved glance. “I was not always a rough soldier,” he said. “My education covered all the rudiments of a gentleman's upbringing.”

  He led her out on to the floor wit
h a flourish. Luke's gentlemanly accomplishments put Deliverance to shame. She had never had much time for the finer things of a gentlewoman's upbringing and music and dancing had been left to Penitence.

  As Luke caught her by the waist, he bent to whisper in her ear. “My dear Deliverance, I fear you may entirely lack any sense of rhythm.”

  Heat rose to her cheeks. “You're right,” she mumbled as they parted to allow the lead couple to skip down the line of dancers.

  Despite Deliverance’s very evident lack of rhythm, they danced the next three sets. Out of the corner of her eye, Deliverance saw Toby sitting at the end of one of the benches, dejectedly poking his knife around the scraps of food remaining on his plate. Deliverance excused herself to Luke who had no shortage of partners. She subsided with an exhausted sigh on to the bench beside the boy.

  “I am not a very good dancer,” she said.

  “No, you're not,” Toby agreed. His eyes widened. “Oh mistress, I didn't mean that...”

  Deliverance laughed. “It's all right, Toby, I know my weaknesses.”

  “You're very good at other things,” Toby said. “You kept us all alive.”

  “Thank you,” Deliverance said.

  “What you did yesterday was so brave,” the boy continued.

  Deliverance looked away. “And you were brave too,” she said. “Coming out with the drum like that.”

  “I saw Lovedie with that man,” Toby said. “Is it true what everyone's saying, that she was a traitor?”

  Deliverance nodded. “I'm sorry, Toby. Did you really have no idea?”

  He shook his head. “Lovedie's looked after me all my life. When she left Byton, I thought she'd gone to get help. Didn't know she'd gone over to...to...him. She left me in that castle to die, Mistress Felton. I’ll never forget that.”

  The hurt and anger in his face was so acute, Deliverance put an arm around his stiff, proud, young shoulders.

  “I’m sure she had her own reasons, Toby.”

  “And they say she killed Tom Watts. Is that true?”

  “I think so.”

  “Tom was always good to me. He didn't deserve to die like that,” Toby said. “I'll never forgive her, Mistress Felton, never!”