Exile's Return

by Alison Stuart

  She rose to her feet, pacing the room. ‘You fool!’ she castigated herself.

  At the window she stopped, looking down into the courtyard where a milkmaid, her pails swinging from the wooden brace across her shoulders, hurried toward the house.

  There could be no repeat of last night, however much she … or he … may desire it. They would meet as friends, nothing more.

  But her resolve weakened when they met at the door to the parlour. A smile lightened his face and his arm circled her waist, drawing her into his embrace. At the touch of his lips on hers, the last of her resolution slipped away. Only the sound of footsteps on the stairs behind them caused them to jump apart.

  Kate Thornton rounded the corner, her gaze going from one guilty face to the other.

  ‘Are you going to stand there all day?’ she enquired. ‘Or shall we break fast?’

  Agnes slid into her now-familiar seat at the table. Jonathan Thornton, intent on reading a letter, did not glance up. The only other person at the breakfast table was Tom Ashley.

  ‘Father’s had a letter from the Freemans,’ Tom said, addressing his mother.

  Kate’s face lit and she glanced at Agnes and Daniel. ‘Our uncle and aunt in London,’ she said. ‘Jon, what news?’

  Jonathan set the letter down. ‘They are intending to visit in the spring,’ he said.

  ‘That is something to look forward to,’ Kate said. ‘What other news?’

  Jonathan tapped the table with his forefinger. ‘I’m not sure what to make of it, but Nathaniel writes that the Committee of Safety is in disorder. Rumours are flying around that General Monck may raise the Army against them.’

  Thomas Ashley’s eyes widened. ‘But Monck’s in Edinburgh. Lambert holds sway in England.’

  Jonathan’s mouth quirked. ‘It would not take Monck long to march on London, Tom, and if the Army does defect to him then Lambert may find himself with no troops. Interesting times.’

  Kate sighed. ‘I am weary of interesting times. I long for peaceful times.’

  ‘They are coming, Kate,’ Jonathan said, laying his hand on hers. A look of silent understanding passed between them.

  Agnes glanced at Daniel, whose attention was devoted to buttering a large slab of bread, and wondered what it would be like to have a man who could look at you in such a way.

  Daniel turned his attention from the bread to Jonathan. ‘But it is not such a simple matter of the King returning. There is a whole system of government to be restored.’ He cast a quick glance around the table. ‘And past wrongs to be righted.’

  Jonathan nodded. ‘You are right. There are still many obstacles to the King’s return.’ He glanced at his stepson. ‘Tom, if you have finished eating, I need to speak with Daniel.’

  Tom cast Daniel a questioning glance and rose from the table, excusing himself.

  Daniel cleared his throat. ‘Before you begin, I owe you an apology for my high-handed behaviour yesterday.’

  Jonathan shook his head. ‘You owe no apology, Daniel. I blame Kit. It is typical of your brother to make an entrance and a quite understandable shock … for me as well, believe me.’ He held up his hand. ‘But that was yesterday, and I had a long talk with Kit about the circumstances of his return from the dead.’

  Agnes glanced at Daniel. His face had drained of colour. ‘What did he say?’

  Jonathan shook his head. ‘That is his story to tell, not mine. He tells me you were pardoned.’

  Daniel traced a pattern on his platter with the point of his knife. ‘‘I owe him the right to an explanation. I suppose he is halfway to Hampshire. If I leave immediately I may stand a chance of catching him up.’

  A smile creased the corners of Jonathan Thornton’s eyes. ‘It is a long way to Hampshire, but I don’t think you need to travel that far. You should find him at the Black Cross in Bromsgrove.’

  Kate Thornton leaned forward. ‘Go and seek him out, Daniel.’ She glanced at the window. ‘It’s perishing cold outside, so dress warmly – we don’t want a relapse of the fever. Your horse will be saddled and ready in half an hour.’

  Daniel pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘Thank you for persuading him that I was not a completely lost cause.’

  Jonathan shook his head. ‘He knows that, Daniel, and besides, it is Agnes who went after him.’

  Daniel shot Agnes a quick glance, indecision and annoyance flashing behind his eyes.

  Agnes met his gaze. ‘I have no family, Daniel. Mother, father, brother … all dead and buried, and now even my sister’s children have been taken from me. If Kit were my brother I would not want to lose him. Not again.’

  Daniel looked away, a muscle working in his jaw. ‘So you go after him, would you?’

  ‘Without hesitation.’

  Half an hour later they gathered in the courtyard where the black gelding stamped impatiently, its breath frosting in the crisp air.

  Kate stepped forward and straightened the linen around Daniel’s neck. ‘Make peace with your brother, Daniel, and he is welcome to return with you. The beds at the Black Cross can be a little lumpy.’

  Daniel glanced at Agnes. ‘What do I say to him?’

  She looked up at him and shook her head. ‘I don’t know that, Daniel.’

  They stood looking at each other for a long moment, and it seemed as if Agnes saw him for the first time with an almost startling clarity; the lock of dark brown hair that fell across his forehead, the arch of his eyebrows, the tell-tale white creases at the corners of his eyes, the scar that crossed his right cheekbone, the long nose and the curve of his well-cut lips. Now so familiar and so beloved.

  The “pirate” that she and the children had met on that first day in London suddenly seemed a long way removed from this man. The walls Daniel had built up around himself, which had enabled him to survive what surely would have killed a lesser man, had begun to crumble, and at last she was seeing glimpses of the man Daniel Lovell should have been –could be.

  Alone and friendless, they had found each other, but she knew that whatever passed between the brothers in Bromsgrove would change the fragile balance of her relationship with him. Like a flash of powder in the pan of a musket it had burned brightly and momentarily but now it was gone.

  Even as this thought crossed her mind, he drew her into his arms and brought his lips down on hers with a bruising intensity.

  ‘Agnes … ’ His voice sounded ragged.

  She pushed him away. ‘Go,’ she said.

  A muscle twitched in his cheek, and as if remembering the presence of his hosts, he turned and swung himself into the saddle.

  ‘I will return by evening,’ he said, leaving the “with or without my brother” unsaid.

  ***

  In the parlour, Kate stacked an extra log on the fire and the flames leaped higher. Agnes drew closer to the warmth, holding out her hands.

  ‘We haven’t had much opportunity to talk, you and I,’ Kate said.

  That was true. Since her arrival at Seven Ways, Agnes had been drawn to Nell’s company. They were, after all, closer in age and shared a love of children and matters domestic. Agnes gained the impression from Nell and her own observation that Kate Thornton wore her responsibilities as a heavy mantle, with little time to spare for her two children or just the simple pleasures of life.

  As Kate sat down in one of the chairs beside the fire, it struck Agnes that she had never seen Kate without some item of mending or a list in her hand. Now the woman closed her eyes, leaning her head back, letting her hands rest loosely on the arms of the chair.

  ‘I am so tired, Agnes,’ Kate said, closing her eyes. ‘I yearn for peace as if it were the sun. It is always the women who pay the price for war,’ she continued. ‘While Jonathan and Daniel and his brother have seen their share of suffering, they had choices. You and I, and Nell, we were not given those choices but we have to live with the consequences.’

  Agnes nodded. ‘I think you are right.’

  Kate opened her eyes, her ga
ze resting on Agnes’s face. ‘I can see in your face that there is more to your story then you are willing to share, Agnes. Secrets are dangerous. They can devour you from inside.’

  Agnes swallowed. ‘Some secrets,’ she said. ‘Has it been so very hard for you here?’

  A bitter smile twisted Kate’s lips and she drew a deep, shuddering breath. ‘These have been very lean years, my dear. The fines on this estate alone … but then I don’t need to tell you how hard they can be. You lost your home.’ Recollecting herself, she said, ‘We are more fortunate than many, such as your family, and I have been blessed by having the man I love by side. It has made it easier to ride out the hard winters, when we wondered how we could feed ourselves, let alone our tenants.’

  Agnes studied the woman. Kate could not have been older than her mid-thirties, but she carried the years of hardship in the lines of her face.

  ‘It will change when the King returns,’ Agnes said.

  Kate’s mouth twitched. ‘When the King returns? That is a refrain I have heard before. I see no point in letting my hopes get the better of me. In the meantime we face another long, cold winter, but enough of our troubles. Kit Lovell’s return will probably change your plans. What will you do?’

  Agnes shook her head ‘I will continue on to Charvaley,’ she said.

  Kate frowned. ‘And what exactly is it you intend to do when you reach Charvaley?’

  Agnes shifted uncomfortably under the woman’s clear-eyed gaze.

  ‘To be honest, Lady Thornton, I don’t know. I have some possessions there which surely give me a right to return. But in truth I must see the children again. I couldn’t bear it if they were unhappy or ill treated.’

  ‘Do you have reason to suppose they would be?’

  Agnes thought of Leah Turner’s thin, mean lips and shook her head. ‘I don’t think they will be ill treated, but they won’t be loved and they are so little … ’ She bit her lip to stop the tears.

  Kate sighed. ‘I don’t know what advice to offer you, my dear.’

  Agnes shook her head. ‘I am not seeking advice.’

  ‘Then what is it you want?’

  Agnes rose to her feet and paced the floor, before returning to the fire. ‘I want a home, like this one. A home with a husband and children, and a laundry maid singing in the yard … ’ She broke off and looked away. ‘Perhaps, once the King is restored to the throne, the children can be returned to my care and the injustices will be redressed.’

  Kate smiled. ‘Once again, that refrain, Agnes – when the King returns. If the King returns …’

  ‘No!’ Agnes cut in. ‘I have to believe it, Lady Thornton. I have to hope.’

  Kate nodded. ‘I have been blessed in my life by good people who have helped me when I needed it and I want you to know if ever you need help or assistance, Agnes, do not hesitate to come to us. God knows Jonathan and I have seen our share of trouble. We would never turn away anyone who needed us. Go to Charvaley, satisfy yourself that the children are in good hands, but come back here. There will always be room for you.’

  Agnes blinked. She had never met such generosity of spirit. ‘That would be a debt I could never repay, Lady Thornton. Surely I would just be another mouth to feed?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure you will find a way to make yourself useful, Agnes. You are a resourceful young woman and there is always Daniel Lovell … ’ Kate trailed off with a knowing smile.

  ‘No.’ Agnes shook her head. ‘Daniel is on his own journey.’

  Kate’s calm, grey eyes studied Agnes for a long moment. ‘I saw the way he looked at you just now, and you at him. Whatever drove you both together has now become a partnership. But you are right, you and he need to decide whether you continue on your current path together or take different paths and wait to see what transpires in the next few months.’ She rose to her feet, once more the brisk, efficient mistress of the house. ‘Doors will open for you, my dear. You just have to be ready to walk through them.’

  ***

  The landlady of the Black Cross hailed Daniel like an old friend and directed him to the same private chamber he had occupied on his recent stay. Daniel stood looking at the door for a long moment before rapping firmly on the dark oak.

  ‘Enter.’

  Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped inside. Kit had been sitting at the table, a half-eaten meal set before him. Seeing Daniel, he rose slowly to his feet, apprehension momentarily clouding his face. His eyebrow quirked in a manner so familiar that Daniel felt himself transported back to his childhood. This really was his brother, the idolised Kit. All the anger and resentment that had suffused him on the previous day began to slough away.

  ‘You came,’ Kit said.

  ‘There seems to be a general consensus at Seven Ways that I should hear your side of the story, before I pass judgment on your actions. I want to know why you turned coat.’

  Kit nodded. He walked over to a table and poured two cups of wine from a jug. Although Kit tried to disguise a shaking hand, the wine slopped in the cup as he handed it to his brother. Daniel took the cup but didn’t drink.

  ‘It is probably a little early for wine,’ Kit said, taking a draught and setting the cup down on the table.

  He turned and paced the floor to the window and stood looking down into the street below. His shoulders rose and fell in a silent sigh before he turned to face his brother, casting his face into shadow.

  ‘The answer is simple. I was offered a choice,’ he said. ‘My life for yours.’

  “My life for yours?” Daniel sank down onto nearest chair.

  ‘On condition I became an agent of the Commonwealth, I would win your freedom. I had been very badly wounded and maybe was not thinking as clearly as I should have done but it seemed quite a simple decision at the time. It was no choice … not for me. Passing on scraps and snippets of gossip seemed harmless enough, but as time went on they – should I say John Thurloe – wanted more and more and I got drawn further and further into the plots, but still I justified it. What were the lives of a few old comrades for that of my brother?’

  ‘Jonathan Thornton was offered the same choice,’ Daniel said.

  ‘No, he wasn’t. Thurloe was not holding his brother hostage,’ Kit replied.

  ‘But he would have died rather than turn coat … ’ Daniel persisted.

  ‘No!’ Kit’s voice cracked. ‘You’re not listening to me. This is not about Jonathan Thornton. This is about you and I, Daniel. You were a boy who had followed me to war on my foolish tales. You should never have been at Worcester, but the blame that you were there rests entirely on me. Thurloe offered me a chance to make it right. I took it.’

  Daniel stared at this man he hardly knew. Had Kit really been prepared to sacrifice other lives for his, or had there been a baser motive?

  ‘But men died because of you,’ he said, between tight lips.

  Kit turned back to the window. ‘Yes … good men who didn’t deserve to die. Don’t think for a moment that I don’t live with their ghosts on my conscience. I would have saved them if I could but I … ’ He broke off. Daniel saw his brother’s reflection in the mottled glass, his face contorted with pain. ‘I was too late.’ Kit concluded.

  ‘And you? Is it true that you were tried and what of the stories you were hanged?’

  Kit took a shuddering breath. ‘I found myself caught on my own petard, which suited the authorities. My death was staged to convince the world that I was not the turncoat. But make no mistake, they hanged me, Dan.’

  ‘That was the story I hear. But did they actually hang you?’

  ‘They were very convincing. I went to the scaffold, truly believing I was going to my death.’

  He turned back to face Daniel and undid his carefully tied neckcloth to reveal a faint white mark circling his neck. Daniel stared at the scar the rope had left. When Outhwaite had tortured him there had been a time when he had prayed for death, but he could not imagine going to the gibbet, feeling the rope aroun
d his neck tighten.

  For a long moment the two brothers stood staring at each other.

  ‘And this bought my pardon?’ Daniel said at last, hardly able to voice the words.

  Kit nodded. ‘Only to be given the news that you were dead.’

  Daniel looked down at the cup of wine in his hand and drained it in one swallow, setting the empty cup down on the table.

  He crossed the floor to face his brother, surprised that he now looked Kit in the eye. The Kit of his memory had always been taller … and stronger. But the Kit of his memory had died on the battlefield of Worcester, just as the boy who had been Daniel had perished. Now he faced his brother as a man, an equal.

  ‘They know,’ Daniel said, ‘or at least they suspect that you may have been the traitor.’

  ‘They?’

  ‘The Court.’

  A muscle at the corner of Kit’s lip twitched. ‘Ah. Hardly surprising. I was not the only agent among the King’s men. Some were double agents who knew I was in the pay of the Commonwealth.’

  ‘The King will return,’ Daniel said.

  ‘It seems so,’ Kit gave a careless shrug, as if the return of men who knew his sordid past was of no concern to him.

  ‘What will you do?’

  Kit heaved a sigh and looked away. ‘Kit Lovell died at the end of a hangman’s noose. To the world I am the Comte D’Anvers, who lives a quiet domestic existence in the Hampshire countryside in a house of women.’

  Daniel smiled. ‘A house of women?’

  ‘Thamsine … did I tell you I am married? My wife tells me that it is a kind of poetic justice. I’m not sure I quite understand what she means. But between my wife, my sister, my stepmother, Thamsine’s two nieces, and my own daughters, I am completely outnumbered and defeated.’

  Daniel caught his breath. ‘Mother and Frances are with you?’

  He nodded. ‘Your mother took some persuasion, but Eveleigh is completely uninhabitable. They are both well.’

  Daniel tried to order his thoughts. He put the questions about his mother and sister to one side.