Reckless Angel

by Jane Feather

  Daniel came into the dining room, hand in hand with his now-merry daughters, whose sense of grievance had vanished with their father’s smiling summons to table. Dinner was a cheerful meal, much enlivened by the absence of the governess, although everyone forbore to comment on this fact. Afterward Henrietta went riding with the girls, allowing their chatter to wash over her as she wrestled with the new problem now facing Will and Julia—the problem that had led to Will’s precipitate departure and air of disarray, thus prompting Daniel’s uncomfortable questioning.

  Lord Morris had been bidden by the king to set sail for Scotland without delay. He was intending to do so within three weeks, and his wife and daughter were to sail with him.

  Will was in despair at the news, and Julia had seemed paralyzed. Neither of them thought there was anything they could do to prevent the separation, which left plotting to circumvent it to the considerably more energetic Henrietta. At this point, she could see only two alternatives. Julia could run away and Will return to England with her on the next ship, and they could throw themselves upon the mercy of his parents. Mistress Osbert was a thoroughly pragmatic soul, and would accept the situation after the initial scolding, which would no doubt be fierce. Or Henrietta could persuade Lady Morris to leave Julia with the Drummonds, on the grounds that it would be safer for her, more convenient for the Morrises until the fate of the Royalist cause was settled one way or the other, and Henrietta would love her company.

  On the whole, Henrietta favored the first course as being the most decisive, but suspected that the protagonists would prefer the second for its general lack of decision. It would simply prolong the entrancement of courtship without requiring them to face any hard choices. However, it was their affair, she reminded herself, and her role simply that of facilitator. She would need Daniel’s permission to issue the invitation, of course; indeed, the invitation should properly come from him. Lady Morris would certainly consider it so.

  “Harry, is that a kestrel? Is it, Harry?” Nan’s repetitive piping at last intruded on her reverie, and she looked up into the gray winter sky to where a hawk hovered seemingly immobile over a stubble field.

  “Nay, I think ’tis a goshawk,” she said. “’Tis too big for a kestrel, and it has short wings. D’ye mark them?”

  Nan squinted earnestly upward, and Henrietta hid her smile. She was such a little figure sitting on her small, barrel-bellied pony, her dark green riding habit a miniature of Henrietta’s own; and the bright black eyes of the Drummonds were so like her father’s. Would her own child have those eyes, also? Henrietta wondered. Daniel had at last agreed to take no more precautions against conception, and she waited with ever-increasing impatience for the moment when she could tell him she was bearing his child.

  “Come, I think we should go home,” she said, suddenly realizing the time. The January evenings closed in abruptly.

  At supper, she brought up the subject of Julia’s visit. “I should miss her most terribly if she goes, and she does not wish to leave in the least. I am certain, if you issued the invitation, her parents would let her stay with me for a little while. She could travel to England with us, if…when you must go and fight again.” She licked the tip of her finger and picked up breadcrumbs littering the table top, saying in a low voice, “I would draw much comfort from her presence at such a time.”

  Daniel was silent for a moment, unsure whether he wanted to share his wife with Julia. It was bad enough having Will around so much of the time. But that was selfish of him, he decided. She had made no secret of her fears over the prospect of another battle, and they were not fears he would make light of. If Julia’s company would give her comfort and strength, then he would not deny it.

  “Very well,” he said. “You may take my invitation to Lady Morris in the morning. I will write it tonight.”

  But the invitation did not get written that night. An imperative knocking abruptly sounded at the front door, bringing Daniel to his feet with an exclamation of annoyance. “I trust that is not Will again.”

  “Of course it is not,” Henrietta said with a touch of indignation as she defended her friend. “He would not come without invitation at this time of night. You know he would not.”

  “I suppose I do,” Daniel agreed, going to the dining room door as he heard Hilde struggling with the bolts in the hall. “Why, Connaught, what the devil’s amiss to bring you out at this time? Come in and take wine.”

  “Thank’ee, Drummond.” William Connaught came into the dining room, his usually ponderous mien enlivened by an air of excitement. “Lady Drummond, I do beg your pardon for disturbing you at supper.”

  “Not at all,” Henrietta said politely. “Pray join us. D’ye care for some venison pasty?”

  “Nay, I have supped, thank’ee. But I’ll be glad of wine.” He sat down and looked around the table with that same portentous air. “Drummond, news has just arrived that the Scots have crowned His Majesty at Scone. ’Tis a direct challenge to Parliament—one they cannot ignore.”

  Daniel whistled softly, and Henrietta, feeling suddenly queasy, took a deep gulp of her wine. So, it had come at last—the inevitable that she had prayed would somehow be averted. Her husband would take sword, with so many other husbands and fathers, in a battle that both sides believed they fought for honor and principle, and in the name of God. And she would watch and wait, not caring who won or lost just so long as this husband and father came away from the field sound of wind and limb.

  Daniel glanced across the table at her, reading her thoughts in her pallor and the liquid depths of those big brown eyes. “’Twill be some time, love, before Cromwell can respond to the challenge. We must wait for order from His Majesty.”

  She managed a wan smile. “Then I will delay my fears ’till then.”

  “I will call upon Lady Morris myself in the morning,” he said, hoping to comfort her.

  Henrietta just nodded, feeling as if some natural justice was at work. She had used her fear as an added inducement to persuade Daniel to do what she wished; now it seemed she had received her just deserts, had somehow provoked the ill news. Did Daniel consider it to be ill news? Of course he did not.

  Wordlessly, she clung to him when they were at last able to retire; but he had no need of words to tell him what she was feeling. He held her for a long time, imparting the reassurance of his strength until he could feel the peace of acceptance enter her, then he made love to her with slow gentleness, leading her down a long, winding road to oblivion. And then, when he knew her to be truly at peace, he possessed her again with a fierce passion that exorcized the demons of fear…for them both, he realized with a flash of self-knowledge the instant before all possibility of coherent thought was lost to him and the maelstrom engulfed them both.

  “I love you,” she whispered against the salt-sweet slickness of his chest, where his heart still pounded beneath her cheek as she curled into his embrace.

  “And I you, my elf.” He reached down to stroke the soft curve of her bottom with a lethargic hand.

  “’Twould be a criminal act to keep apart two people who love each other in this way,” she murmured. “Do you not agree?”

  “Utterly criminal, elf.” He yawned mightily. “But not as criminal as keeping me from my sleep after exhausting me so thoroughly.” He kissed the top of her head and fell instantly asleep.

  His wife followed suit, but not before she had decided that he had given his implicit approval of her efforts to ensure just such a happy conclusion for Will and Julie.

  When she awoke in a cloud-dark dawn, this was also her first thought. It made her feel immensely more cheerful, for some reason. Propping herself on one elbow, she leaned over Daniel’s sleeping figure, drinking in the strong lines of his face that even unconsciousness could not weaken; the sharply delineated eyebrows; the long, curling black lashes that many a maiden would envy; the firm mouth, now relaxed. Without the habitual humorous quirk of his waking countenance, and the gentle amusement in the sharp bl
ack eyes, there was something a little intimidating about him, she found. Her hand roamed over his body, slipping beneath the covers to slide over his belly and between his thighs. With a contented smile, she felt the softness stir and harden beneath her gently squeezing fingers. She reached further, her fingers twining in the crisp, curly hair to caress the twin globes filling and hardening in their turn.

  “What are you doing?” Daniel’s sleepy voice, that note of amusement lurking richly in its depths, drifted down.

  “Do you not know?” she exclaimed in mock amazement. “And I thought I was doing rather well. Clearly, I should redouble my efforts.” With an agile twist, she dived beneath the covers, seeking him with her mouth in the warm darkness where the loamy scents of arousal, the languid melding of limbs and skin, mingled to create a hothouse and the flower of passion sprang into bloom at the first dampening stroke of her tongue.

  Daniel yielded to the glory of the moment, his hands running over her pliant back, pressing into her spine, kneading her buttocks, drawing her backward until he could match her dewy caresses with his own, and the morning exploded with shared pleasure.

  Daniel was in shirt and britches, humming smugly to himself as he shaved, and Henrietta was still lying naked and languidly abed, enjoying the moment of lassitude before she must rise and put on the day, when an urgent tapping came at the door.

  “Daddy!” It was Lizzie’s voice and Daniel went instantly to open the door.

  “What is it, love?”

  “’Tis Nan.” Lizzie was still in her smock and nightcap and carried an air of importance mixed with alarm. “I think she has the fever, and Mistress Kierston has gone to church.”

  “I think ’tis time the church put the bread in Mistress Kierston’s belly,” Daniel muttered for Harry’s ears, before striding into the passage.

  Henrietta struggled into her smock and tumbled out of bed, following him into the children’s bedchamber. Nan was tossing and turning, kicking off the bedcovers.

  “My head aches,” she moaned fretfully, as Daniel leaned over her, placing his hand on her forehead.

  “She’s burning,” he said, unable to conceal his anxiety. “Pray God ’tis not the smallpox.”

  “I doubt it is,” Henrietta said, feeling the child’s brow for herself. “There’s been no cases in The Hague for several months. Do you go about your business, for I know you have much to do today. I will look after her.”

  Daniel’s uncertainty was for a moment writ clear upon his face. There were many things Henrietta could do better than anyone with his children, but she was not skilled at nursing, knew almost nothing of the art if the truth be told. Yet there was something about her present demeanor that inspired confidence, and she returned his look with a tiny smile that contained the hint of challenge.

  “Very well,” he said quietly. “Mistress Kierston should be back soon.”

  “I do not need Mistress Kierston,” she said, turning to Lizzie, who stood by the door, wide-eyed and big-eared. “Hurry and get dressed, Lizzie; then you may fetch some lavender water and bathe Nan’s forehead while I prepare a soothing draught.”

  Daniel hesitated for one more second, then turned and went back to the bedchamber to complete his own dressing. When he returned to the children’s room, Henrietta asked him calmly to lift Nan while she removed the child’s soaked smock so that she could bathe her with the cool lavender water. He did so, holding the hot little body gently as Nan moaned and complained that her skin was sore.

  “There’s no sign of a rash,” Henrietta reassured him, seeing the alarm in his eye. “’Tis only because of the fever. It’s always so. D’ye not remember from when you were ill yourself?”

  He did and nodded ruefully. “I seem to forget everything sensible when they are unwell.”

  Henrietta only smiled and slipped a clean smock over Nan’s head. “There, she will be more comfortable now. You may put her back on the bed and go off and do what you have to. You must have many people to see after last night’s news.”

  “Are you trying to be rid of me?” he asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.

  “Aye,” she confirmed affably. “I am. You will worry too much if you stay here, and there is nothing you can do that I cannot do as well.” She shooed him toward the door. “You can go downstairs and make sure Lizzie has eaten her eggs. You know what she’s like about breakfast if no one is watching her, and then she gets so cross and hungry long before dinner.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose and did as she said, reaching the dining room just in time to forestall his elder daughter’s attempt to dispose of the detested eggs out of the window.

  “Let’s pretend I did not see you,” he suggested amiably. “Sit down and eat them all up.”

  Lizzie complied without demur, far too relieved by his suggestion to do more than wrinkle her nose at the laden platter in front of her. “Is Harry going to look after Nan?”

  “It would seem so,” her father replied, helping himself to bacon. “You will have the great pleasure of Mistress Kierston’s undivided attention.”

  “But d’ye not think I should help Harry?” Lizzie regarded him hopefully across the table.

  “And leave poor Mistress Kierston with nothing to do?” he exclaimed in mock horror. “How could you be so unkind, Lizzie?”

  Lizzie did not look as if she appreciated this little joke. She finished her breakfast with a moue of distaste. “May I go, Daddy?”

  He glanced at her empty platter and nodded. “Ask Harry to come down and have her own breakfast. You may sit with Nan until Mistress Kierston returns.”

  Lizzie scampered off, and Henrietta came down within five minutes, just as Daniel was preparing to leave the house. “How is she?”

  “Sleeping,” Henrietta replied. “’Tis the best medicine.”

  “Aye.” He stood frowning, his hand on the door latch. “Should I summon the physician, d’ye think?”

  “We will see how she is at dinnertime. Did Lizzie eat her breakfast?”

  “With a degree of encouragement. I arrived just in time to rescue the eggs.” He still hesitated at the door. “You had best have your own, Harry.”

  “I am not in the least hungry. Now do go, Daniel.” She gave him a little push. “D’ye not trust me to look after things?”

  Daniel didn’t know whether he did or not. She still struck him as such a little person, but she did seem to be radiating a fair degree of confidence at the moment. “I will be back as soon as I can,” he said, and left her smiling in the hall.

  When he returned at dinnertime, he found all peaceful, Henrietta calmly in charge in the sickroom, Mistress Kierston and an obedient if resentful Lizzie at their lessons in the schoolroom, the cook in the kitchen, from whence emanated toothsome aromas, and Hilde polishing the furniture with beeswax.

  “I cannot imagine why I expected to find chaos,” he said, bending over Nan, who offered him something resembling a smile. “How’s my little one?” He kissed the hot forehead.

  “I’m very sick,” Nan informed him in a croaky voice. “But not as sick as this morning.”

  Daniel glanced at Henrietta, who nodded in confirmation. “Well, that’s good to hear,” he said cheerfully, sitting on the bed. “Does your head not pain you anymore?”

  “Not much,” Nan croaked. “Harry’s been playing her guitar and it makes me go to sleep.”

  “I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment or not,” Harry said with a chuckle. “I’m going to fetch you some broth, and Daddy will help you eat it.”

  Lizzie catapulted into the room at this point. “You do not know how lucky y’are to be sick, Nan,” she announced disgustedly. “I have been learning dreary psalms all morning, and I think it’s quite stupid.”

  “I do not think y’are qualified to be the judge of that, my child,” Daniel said. “And ’tis certainly not an opinion I care to hear you express.”

  Lizzie, crestfallen, looked at her stepmother for support. Harry winked at her. “
Run down to the kitchen and ask Cook to give you a bowl of broth for Nan.”

  Lizzie disappeared, grinning, and Daniel, who had not missed the wink, said sternly, “If I take issue with Lizzie, I do not expect you to undermine me, Henrietta.”

  “But they are dreary,” she said. “And it is stupid to waste a whole morning learning them. There must be more useful things she can learn.”

  “Like self-discipline and restraint,” he declared. “Learning psalms will teach her both.”

  Henrietta’s eyebrows lifted in skeptical response and Daniel could not help laughing. “Oh, mayhap y’are right. ’Tis probably past time I reviewed matters with Mistress Kierston.”

  “Will ye tell her we’re not to learn psalms?” Nan’s question reminded them that they had an audience, and Daniel shook his head ruefully at Henrietta.

  “That is no concern of yours, Nan,” he said firmly. “Here’s Lizzie with your soup.”

  “Daddy’s goin’ to tell Mistress Kierston that we’re not to learn psalms anymore,” Nan, shamelessly taking advantage of the license permitted an invalid, informed her sister as Daniel lifted her against his shoulder.

  “I did not say that,” her father insisted. “I said any conversations I have with your governess are no concern of yours.”

  “But that’s what you meant.” Nan opened her mouth for the spoonful of soup he held.

  Lizzie clapped her hands gleefully. “Will ye tell her this afternoon, Daddy?”

  Henrietta doubled over with laughter in the doorway as Daniel floundered. “Get out of here,” he ordered. “Y’are nothing but trouble!”

  Still laughing, she went downstairs.

  Daniel joined her in a short while. “You are the most appalling influence,” he declared. “I am beginning to regret the errand I ran for you this morning. You do not deserve the consideration.”

  “Oh, did you visit Lady Morris?” In all the morning’s concerns, she had completely forgotten that complication in her life.