Arden's Act

by Elizabeth Thomas

  “Oh, Arden!” he exclaimed softly.

  Arden couldn't keep her spirits from lifting as his eyes widened, but she pressed on. “I don't expect this declaration to change anything. I know I've lost my best chance for happiness.”

  “You've lost nothing, my love,” said Robert, rising and moving to her. He pulled her from her seat and into his arms. He nuzzled her neck, traced across her throat and up to her mouth. He kissed her slowly, thoroughly, and Arden reveled in the familiar warmth of it. The letter dropped from her hand, unheeded.

  After a natural interval, however, he stopped. He took her hands and looked into her eyes. “I don't want to make haste while Helena and Bonnie are away,” he told her. “But neither do I want to wait until our wedding night—”

  “Wedding night?” interrupted Arden, incredulous. That he still wanted to love her caused joy unhoped for. That he still wanted to marry her, she could barely comprehend.

  “Perhaps I presume too much,” he said, smiling. Going down on one knee before her, he added, “I do not mind doing this again. Arden, my love, will you marry me?”

  “I can't,” she whispered.

  Courtenay rose quickly, pain, disbelief, and a small touch of exasperation in his expression. “What do you mean, you can't? Why not? You say I have your heart—”

  “Of course you have my heart,” Arden answered, her eyes growing moist. “That you even make the offer fills me with such amazement! I felt joy enough that you want to come back and love me for the moment, let alone still want me to be your wife!” She reached up and caressed his face, fighting the impulse to throw herself back into his arms. “But I can't do that to you, Robert. Bad enough you were going to humble yourself for an actress―oh, the damage I've already done to you! Is it really too late? Can you not go to your father, tell him you've changed your mind, and get your birthright back?”

  “And ruin my younger brother's life?” asked Robert, calmer now but arching an eyebrow. “Assuming I had any intention of giving you up.”

  “You don't have to give me up,” said Arden. “But to marry me? The cast-off, near-treasonous mistress of the King?”

  “From what I understand, you cast him off,” replied Robert. “And we won't even discuss Castlemaine's husband.”

  “Castlemaine wasn't an actress, and was born into the nobility,” Arden protested.

  “Pity it didn't rub off on her,” said Robert. “Besides, you are a heroine of the realm, not to mention the mother of my daughter.”

  “I am also infamous,” said Arden. “I can't let you do that to yourself. But we can be lovers,” she added, finally sliding back into his arms. “As long as you like.”

  Robert held her tightly, and Arden felt his sigh as well as heard it. “Well, I shall convince you, eventually,” he said. “Perhaps I shall start tonight.” Then, to Arden's surprise, he laughed and stepped back from her, again seeking her eyes with his dark ones.

  “What? What amuses you so?” she demanded.

  Courtenay's eyes shone with merriment. “I just don't know if your solution will be good enough for Bonnie,” he told her.

  “Bonnie? What has Bonnie to do with anything?”

  “Sam has asked her to marry him,” said Robert simply, as though he had actually explained something.

  “He has? That's wonderful!” cried Arden. “If she'll have him.”

  “Ah, but that's just it,” Courtenay returned. “According to Sam, Bonnie won't leave you. And she knows you don't have enough money to employ Sam as well. That's why she gave Sam your letter, to give to me.”

  “Bonnie did that?” Arden dismissed her momentary feeling of betrayal as swiftly as it came. She had wanted Robert to know these things, did she not?

  “So it seems that if you don't marry me,” Robert continued, “you will at least need to move into my house on the Strand. And even then, I don't know if Mistress Malley will be content without our being blessed by clergy—”

  “Robert, if you married me, they'd cart you off to Bedlam the moment you said 'I do,'” she interrupted.

  “‘They’ who? But never mind. You really must think of Bonnie, the poor girl's been through so much.” Though Arden heard gentle mockery in his tone, he had genuine sympathy on his face as he spoke Bonnie's name. She marveled anew at him. Then he pushed too far. “And what about Brian?” he asked. “Wouldn't Brian have wanted his cousin to be happy?”

  Arden lost her struggle with laughter. “Oh, you are just terrible, Robert Courtenay!” But with the mention of Brian, her resolve weakened. He did say all could come right in the end, she remembered. Aloud she conceded, “I will think about it.”

  “Indeed you will,” agreed Courtenay. He kissed her again, long and deeply. “Until tonight, Arden.”

  Chapter Sixty-One

  On his way back to the Strand, Courtenay stopped in St. James' Park. After all that had happened here, watching his little girl toddle around after the King's ducks made him shake his head. Though Sam sat with Bonnie, Arden's servant kept her eyes on her charge.

  “I thank you for your care of my daughter, Mistress Malley,” he called as he approached.

  Both Sam and Bonnie rose at the sound of his voice. He took Sam's expectant look for granted, but the directness of Bonnie's pale blue gaze pleased him. Good for you, thought. Don't let the Fanatick bastard break you. And God knows I'll never harm you, so you might as well look me in the eye, servant or no.

  “I'm sorry,” he told them both. “I have nothing definite yet. But don't worry. I'm sure I can persuade her.”

  After capturing a duck and holding it for a time so Helena could pet it, Courtenay pulled Sam away from his intended so he could drive back to the Strand. The coach ride proved uneventful, but as soon as Sam returned from stabling the horses, he came to the parlor doorway and cleared his throat in a meaningful fashion.

  “Come in and have a seat, Sam,” said Courtenay. “It seems increasingly silly to stand on formalities.”

  “I'm glad you think so, sir,” said Sam, entering and tak-ing a nearby chair. “Because I really need your advice.”

  “Ha. The advice of a man who has lost an inheritance and isn't sure if he can get an actress to marry him?”

  “Just so,” said Sam. Then he corrected himself. “No, rather the advice of a man of the world.”

  “Well, I guess I still am that,” said Courtenay. “Ask away, Sam.”

  “It's about Bonnie,” Sam began. “I don't know how I'm going to—”

  “Don't tell me you've never been with a woman, Sam!”

  “No, it's not that,” he replied quickly. “But I've only been with a couple of whores, and a frisky widow or two. A girl what's been hurt like Bonnie—” Sam trailed off, shaking his head. “I told her I'd give her all the time she needed,” he added, “but hopefully there'll come a time―I know Mistress Arden is a strong woman, been married and all, and on my honor as an Englishman I'd never say anything against the King,” he stammered. Bringing Arden into the conversation had heightened Courtenay's attention, but he no longer had any idea where his valet was headed with this line of inquiry. “But Mistress Arden was so brave in what she did for Bonnie and Helena,” Sam continued. “It must have hurt her almost as much as Bonnie got hurt―though, again, I'm sure His Majesty is a far more pleasant gentleman than the blackguard what got at Bonnie. Still―what are you doing to help Mistress Arden get over it all?”

  The long-anticipated end of Sam's question struck Courtenay momentarily dumb. He had not realized the similarity in what had happened to each woman. Then he considered that all Arden had done with the King had come at the behest of that lecherous old Fanatick. The one who had pawed at her to the point she had run away lest he take her virginity. The one she had feared so much she had run straight into his own arms. Arden, my poor, poor darling! he thought. My brave love! Aloud he said: “Let me think on it awhile, Sam. Then I can give you a better answer.” He looked away from his servant quickly. Fortunately, Sam took the hint, ro
se, and left the parlor.

  *****

  Arden had the glimmer of an idea for what to do about Robert Courtenay, but she knew she needed both wise counsel and willing help. She decided not to wait for Bonnie to return with Helena, resisting the urge to confront her and laughingly call her a wondrous meddling wench. Nor did she want to get the poor dear's hopes up. So she left a simple note, saying she had gone out but she would be back soon.

  Following her visit to Newgate, Arden had given her black dresses and cloak to the poorhouse, knowing they no longer lent her anonymity. Now that the legend of her Puritan disguise had grown, she donned a hooded cape of light yellow when she wanted to walk the London streets relatively unnoticed. Arden pulled the cape over her dress and made for the back entrance of Whitehall.

  She had no trouble gaining entrance. The servants greeted her with honor and led her directly to the King's chambers. She hoped they, and Charles himself, did not have the wrong idea about why she had come. Arden had only a moment to wait. The alacrity with which the King had responded to the knowledge of her presence frightened her a little.

  “Have you come back to me, Arden?” Charles asked in a low voice. But then he met her eyes, and shook his head. “No. I can see you have not. Still, it is always a pleasure to see you, my dear.” He took her hand and kissed it warmly, leading her to a seat in one of his dark oak chairs. “Now, what can I do for you, Arden?”

  “Your Majesty,” Arden began. “You told me that if I ever thought of anything I wanted from you, I had only to ask.”

  “Yes, and I meant it. What is it?”

  “Robert Courtenay still wants to marry me,” said Arden, softly.

  “And you'd like me to give him a new title, to compensate for the one he gave up for you?”

  “No, Your Majesty, I hadn't thought of that. Of course, that is up to you, but I honestly think I would prefer you did not.”

  “I could give the title to you,” Charles said.

  “Your Majesty is far too generous. And, begging your pardon, but I think that would make the situation worse.”

  “How so?” the King asked.

  “Your Highness, I am already bloody infamous!”

  King Charles laughed. When she had his attention again, Arden concluded, “I think Robert and I should leave England, Sire.”

  “France?”

  “No, I thought the colonies, perhaps.”

  “Ah. I have just the thing,” said Charles. “Now―I know Courtenay's a Papist, as is your daughter. No, don't bother to protest. Oddsfish, Arden, do you think I care? But there is a settlement run by Lord Baltimore called Mary's Land, where Papists are free to profess their faith. I could gift the pair of you with a large plantation.”

  “Again, you are too kind, Your Majesty,” said Arden. We would not have to use the land as it is intended, she mused.

  Apparently, however, she had forgotten to employ her dramatic skills before the King. “You've objections, though, my dear. I can see them on your face. Pray, what are they?”

  “Mary's Land is one of the southern colonies, is it not, Your Majesty? Would we not have to own slaves to make the plantation successful?”

  “It is more central than southern, from what I understand,” Charles replied. “And while it is true that people have many slaves there, I believe one could run a plantation effectively with indentured servants.”

  “Because I couldn't own another person, Your Majesty, I just couldn't.”

  “No, you probably couldn't,” Charles agreed, looking at her thoughtfully.

  “You may well have graciously provided my answer, though, Your Majesty,” said Arden. “If I present this plan to Robert, and he likes it, you will grant us this land?”

  “Of course. It is so much easier for me to arrange than if you had asked for a portion of the treasury,” Charles admitted ruefully.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty! Thank you so much!” cried Arden. “Hopefully you have made all the difference in the lives of four people. Five, with Helena.”

  “I shall miss you, Arden, if you move across the sea.”

  “And I shall miss you, too, Your Majesty,” said Arden, truthfully. She could not have said for certain whether it was despite or because of all they had been through together, but she liked him. As a man, aside from the fealty she gave her sovereign with all her soul. After a pause, however, she found the voice to speak again. “Your Majesty?”

  “Yes?”

  “I hardly know why I ask, except that I feel I ought to, out of Christian charity.”

  “Yes?” Charles repeated.

  “The head of the traitorous conspirators who used me and tried to assassinate you. I have seen him at Newgate. He is a thoroughly abject and broken creature now, Your Majesty.”

  “This is as it should be, is it not?”

  “Yes, Sire. But he is also my mother's husband. Must he die the full traitor's death of drawing and quartering―and all else? If it please Your Majesty, could you commute his sentence to mere beheading?”

  Charles smiled at her sadly and shook his head. “You amaze me, Arden. You must be some kind of angel, sent down to us in lovely, carnal form.”

  Arden felt the blush suffuse her features. “Once more, you are too kind, Your Majesty.”

  “But I am not kind enough for what you propose,” answered Charles. “I still cannot believe you. After all that man did to you?”

  “It is my duty as a Christian,” Arden repeated. “And as a daughter to my mother.”

  “Ha,” said Charles. “I am the Head of the Church of England, yet my duty does not allow for such mercy. You know I must make examples of traitors as bold and base as he, or our country will fall into chaos. The sentence will be carried out as usual,” Charles told her.

  “I understand, Your Majesty,” replied Arden. She dropped him a curtsey, and turned to leave.

  “Arden?” Charles called her back. “Have you spoken with your little Quaker friend lately?” He had made the pun unconsciously.

  “No, Sire, I have not,” she answered, smiling.

  The King's eyes shone. He looked immensely pleased with himself. “I found her before she left Whitehall, when you were recuperating. I gave her a few royal tokens. Told her to keep one and give the rest to her family members. They need only show it if they are reproached for religious dissent, and it will spare them from arrest.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty! That is most kind indeed!” Arden started towards him, but stopped herself. “Your Majesty, may I?”

  “Of course, Arden, don't be foolish,” said Charles, opening his arms. She gave her monarch an enthusiastic hug and a kiss on the cheek before returning to her apartments.

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  At nearly the hour she expected Robert Courtenay to return to her door, Arden heard a knock that did not belong to him. She did not recognize the knock as that of anyone she knew.

  When she opened her door, however, Sam bowed low before her. “If it pleases you, Mistress Arden, Mr. Courtenay would like me to convey you to his home this evening, instead of his attending you here.”

  Bonnie smiled at Sam and nodded encouragement to Arden. “I'll get Helena to sleep,” she assured her.

  “All right, then, Sam,” said Arden. “That will be satis-factory.”

  After winking at Bonnie, Sam led Arden out, and helped her into the coach. She felt the vehicle rock as he climbed into the driver's perch. As the horses moved off, Arden found herself remembering the time Robert had made love to her in this very vehicle. She couldn't help smiling, wondering what he had planned for them at his house on the Strand. She realized suddenly that she had not been with him there since the night he had initiated her into the ways of love. Since the night (or early morning) they had conceived Helena. She remembered the sensations of his hands upon her skin, the taste of his lips and his tongue. She wondered if she could manage to put her ideas about Mary's Land to him before surrendering her body and taking his in return.

  Be
fore she had come to a decision on that question, the coach came to a halt. Then came the small vibrations of Sam descending, followed by his opening the door for her. Again he bowed low and handed her out, escorting her up to the entrance of Courtenay's home.

  Robert himself greeted them in the foyer. Sam bowed once more, excusing himself and rather rapidly making himself scarce. “May I kiss you, my love?” Robert asked, standing before her. He wore a silk dressing gown of dark blue.

  “Of course,” Arden replied. She almost said, “Don’t be foolish,” but the seriousness of his expression stopped her. She leaned in to accept the caress of his lips, gentler than she had ever remembered it. Yet his kiss had no coolness, no distance to be feared as the harbinger of love lost.

  “May I lead you upstairs, Arden?” he asked, when his lips had left her own.

  “I would like to talk to you first, if you don't mind,” said Arden.

  “Of course I don't mind. Come into the parlor and sit down.”

  As they seated themselves, Sam appeared once more with an opened bottle of wine and two goblets upon a tray. He placed the tray on the small table between them, and Courtenay filled each of the goblets, nodding Sam back out of the room.

  Arden took a sip of her wine―a dark French burgundy ―and asked: “Do you still want to marry me?”

  “More than anything,” said Robert.

  “I think, then, that we should go to America,” said Arden. She went on to tell him of her conversation with the King. “And we wouldn't have to do much with the plantation,” she added. “We could just save it for Helena―and any other children we might have. But in the meantime, we could take a portion of the land and build a theater on it.”

  Arden saw the light in his eyes flare up the moment she finished her sentence. “That's brilliant!” Robert exclaimed. He stood up abruptly to hug her, but after a quick embrace, he backed away. “Arden, I hope you know how much I love you. I hope you know I would marry you and stay right here if you wished it.” She nodded, unable to quell the smile on her face. “But I can tell by your face and voice,” he continued, “you really want to do this. And you are right. I can't think of a better way to spend our lives together. I only hope Bonnie and Sam will find their answer in it as well.”