Royalist on the Run

by Helen Dickson

  ‘Stephen was wounded?’ Alice gasped, feigning shock and surprise. ‘I pray to God he still lives.’

  ‘And I pray your prayers are answered, Lady Stanhope. That way we will catch two birds with one stone, for I doubt Edward Grey would abandon his friend in a ditch.’ His smile held a hint of steel. ‘Rest assured. If they are here, we will find them. Be so good as to have the children and your servants assemble in the hall.’

  A sudden chill touched Arabella’s neck. She felt it all the way down her spine. What if he should recognise Dickon? She had failed to ask Edward how well Malcolm Lister knew his young nephew.

  Aware of her instinctive recoil, his eyes narrowed. ‘Is there a problem?’

  ‘No. I will go now and bring them down.’

  Arabella went quickly to find Margaret, her mind working frantically. What if he wanted to question the children? They would have nothing to tell. What if he asked their names? Please God he would not ask. They had all gone to great pains so the children would not know about the two men hidden in the apple store on the other side of the orchard.

  Margaret looked fearful when she entered the bedchamber. The children were gathered round her, Dickon asleep on her lap. Arabella couldn’t believe her luck.

  ‘Quickly, Margaret. You have to go down to the hall. Take the children. The soldiers are searching the house.’ Taking a blanket from the bed, she wrapped it around Dickon’s sleeping form and took him in her arms, almost covering his face and praying he would not wake up just yet. ‘It is imperative they do not see Dickon,’ she whispered so the children would not hear. ‘His uncle, Malcolm Lister, is leading the search. If he should recognise his nephew, all will be lost.’

  Understanding fully, Margaret ushered the children out of the bedchamber and down the stairs. ‘Now you must be very quiet,’ she said as she went along. ‘We don’t want to antagonise the men who are searching the house.’

  * * *

  Malcolm Lister watched the children file across the hall and stand beside Sam and Tom, who were watching the Roundheads belligerently. Arabella sat next to them, holding Dickon close.

  ‘The children are yours, Lady Stanhope?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes—as you see the youngest is sleeping,’ she said, indicating the closely wrapped bundle on Arabella’s knee.

  He nodded and turned away from the nervous gathering of frightened people. Crossing the hall, he mounted the stairs to join the soldiers searching the house.

  As Arabella watched him go, it seemed to her that she had stopped breathing. Her stomach knotted with fear. She thought of the two men hiding across the orchard and it was as though a cold hand clutched her heart. What if they discovered them? No. She could not think of the dire consequences now.

  They listened to the tramping of feet, the splintering of wood as pikes were thrust into the panelling, doors flung open and furniture being turned over. They searched from the attics to the cellars. Some of the soldiers were searching the stables and when this was done and nothing was found, they came to help the others tearing the house apart. It seemed to go on and on and no one spoke, all eyes were focused on the stairs. Thankfully Dickon slept on, oblivious to the fear and destruction going on around him.

  * * *

  When the search was finally over and had proved futile, Colonel Lister returned to the hall. An angry frown creased his brow. He was clearly disappointed that his arch-enemy, Edward Grey, continued to elude him.

  ‘Well?’ asked Alice. ‘Have you found anything—anyone hiding?’

  Arabella looked up to find him watching her with a hard, intent gaze. The sight of his sly eyes set something crawling under her skin. Averting her eyes, she tightened her arms round the child.

  ‘No.’ He paused and his audience knew he hoped to prolong their fear. ‘We will take our leave of you, but I trust you will think twice before you grant succour to any rebels who might find their way to Bircot Hall. The consequences are dire to anyone found harbouring traitors.’

  ‘Of course. Good day, Colonel Lister.’

  His face darkened as his eyes passed from Alice to Arabella. ‘Edward Grey will be found. I will find him. That I swear.’

  Arabella met his gaze defiantly and did not move, did not speak, lest her fear show. She noted the sword he was fingering, almost lovingly, as if he wanted to unsheathe it to run someone through. She saw the hate he carried for Edward in his eyes. But it was gone in a flash.

  Sam followed the colonel and his soldiers outside. The house was quiet once more. For a while the small group of inhabitants did not say a word, but stood in the hall and waited. Finally Sam returned.

  ‘They’ve gone. They’ve ridden away.’

  Arabella let out a huge sigh of relief. ‘Thank God.’

  ‘We dare not go to the shed just yet,’ Alice said quietly. ‘They may have left someone to watch the house.’

  ‘I agree,’ Arabella replied, looking down as Dickon stirred in her arms and smiled sleepily up at her before opening his mouth in a contented yawn.

  ‘I’ll go and see what damage has been done.’ Alice looked at Sam. ‘Come with me, Sam, and help put things to rights.’

  * * *

  Not until the following morning did anyone dare venture across the orchard to the shed. Sam had warned Edward and Stephen of the arrival of the Roundhead patrol and, knowing they would be at their wits’ end wondering what was happening, it was Arabella who went to tell them what had transpired.

  Stephen was sleeping, as he so often was. Alice said it was not a bad thing and would help with his recovery.

  Edward drew Arabella outside the door so as not to disturb him.

  Despite the seriousness of their predicament and the news she had brought him, when she looked at him she was conscious, as always, of an unwitting excitement. Feeling her cheeks grow hot, she bent her head, the movement sending a sliver of sunlight over her bright hair. Then, raising her head, she met his gaze, every muscle stretched against the invisible pull between them.

  Taking her arm, he drew her into the shelter of the trees.

  ‘Well, Arabella? What happened when the soldiers came? Were you harmed in any way?’

  ‘No,’ she was quick to assure him. ‘The house did not fare well, they searched everywhere—and the stables.’

  ‘Thank God they did not extend their search further afield. How many were there?’

  ‘Half a dozen or so, but Edward, the man leading them was Malcolm Lister.’

  Edward’s face darkened for an instant as he strove for control. ‘Dickon? Please tell me he did not see Dickon?’

  ‘No. Your son slept on my knee throughout and did not wake until they had left. He was wrapped in a blanket so his face was not exposed. Is he well acquainted with him? Would he have recognised him?’

  ‘Maybe not. As far as I am aware he has not seen him since he was a babe.’

  Edward listened to the rest of what she had to say without speaking. It was not until she had finished that he said, ‘Malcolm Lister. Knowing of my friendship with Stephen, I suspected he might come here. I fear he will come back. We cannot delay much longer. I cannot risk him finding me—and Dickon.’

  ‘If you wait for Stephen to recover, you could go together,’ Arabella suggested hopefully. ‘I could come to you later with Dickon.’

  He shook his head. ‘Together we would be too conspicuous. No. I will keep to my original plan.’

  ‘It is obvious Dickon is special to you. You must love him very much.’

  ‘He is the centre of my world—an infinite concern. I never expected to feel that way about anything before he was born. I would never have credited how profoundly I could be affected by a giggle and a grin from an infant. He claimed my heart, Arabella.’

  Arabella had little knowledge of his private life, of what his feelings
had been for his wife—presumably he had loved her once. But because of the all-consuming love she had felt for her own child, she could understand why he was so desperate to keep his son safe.

  Her lips curved in a tremulous smile. ‘I know. I’m not surprised. He is adorable. And a lucky little boy to have such an affectionate father. I—envy you your son, Edward.’

  Hearing the catch in her voice, he could have kicked himself for being so insensitive to her feelings. ‘Good Lord! Forgive me, Arabella. I didn’t think...’

  ‘Please, it doesn’t matter.’ She took a step away from him, her tone becoming tight with emotion as it always did when an image of Elizabeth came to mind. ‘I’d best be getting back. There are things to do if we are to leave soon.’

  She turned to walk away, but he seized her elbow and pulled her to a halt. ‘I’m sorry, Arabella. Look at me.’ Slowly she turned back to face him. His smile was crooked and soft. ‘I like you better angry than when you have a wounded look in your eyes or when you retreat into cool civility.’

  He touched her cheek with his finger. It was a possessive, intimate gesture. It was suddenly as if she couldn’t move. Her breath caught in her throat at his alarming proximity and her heart skipped a beat for there was no escaping that bright gaze. His finger was soft, softer than she could have believed, his touch gentle. She was tempted to close her eyes, tempted to lean into his caress, tempted to discard every warning her head was screaming at her.

  Taking a deep breath, she smiled slightly and moved back. His eyes were soft and tempered her fears. ‘I am fine. Truly. It is only that, sometimes, when I think of Elizabeth, it hurts so much.’

  ‘Of course it does. I can understand that.’

  She nodded. ‘So, what do you want to do—about leaving?’

  ‘We will leave in the morning—first thing.’

  ‘What do you need?’ Arabella asked, knowing it was no use arguing further about leaving Dickon behind. His mind was made up.

  ‘A cart of some sort would be a start—and that old nag in the stable you mentioned. To use one of the horses we arrived on would draw attention to us. Horses are scarce and anyone showing too much wealth suspicious. We must appear as poor farmers travelling to Bristol to visit family. Ships go from Bristol to the Continent all the time. It will be dangerous so we’ll have to be on our guard. The port will be watched. For the purpose of disguise we will pass ourselves off as man and wife and travel under false names.’ He eyed her with a raised, questioningly amused brow. ‘Any suggestions?’

  ‘No—I—I haven’t thought...’

  ‘Then I will call myself Will Brody and you will be—’

  ‘Amy,’ she offered quickly. ‘I’d like to keep it simple and I’ve always liked Amy for a name.’

  ‘Amy it is, then. Amy Brody.’

  ‘Right. I’ll go and begin preparations.’

  * * *

  Preparations were made for them to leave and soon it was daylight. Edward’s expression was without emotion as he reviewed his plans with Arabella. Through it all she listened, periodically running her hand over her brow as she tried to take it all in.

  ‘One hard and fast rule. If we want to survive, we must not forget our disguise and do nothing to draw attention to us. Do not forget our assumed names for a moment. If I am taken, you may share what might be my fate.’

  Arabella was touched by his concern for her survival. Or was it merely because without her, his son would be alone? ‘I cannot believe I am going to France with you.’

  ‘We will have food with us, but not too much to raise suspicion if we are searched. We will take blankets in case we have to spend nights under the stars. Fortunately it is warm enough.’ When he had told her about the journey they would make he looked at her carefully. ‘Do you still agree to come?’

  ‘I cannot condone what we are going to do—something that might easily result in your capture. But I can see that it is necessary. I cannot let you do it alone.’

  His eyes searched her face. ‘Are you afraid of what we are about to do?’

  ‘Not afraid. Apprehensive.’

  He nodded, meeting her open, honest, intelligent eyes. ‘That’s to be expected.’ She was gentle and compassionate, yet he believed she had the physical strength to do what had to be done, to do what he planned, and from what she had told him of her life since they had parted, she also had the mental strength.

  ‘I want you to promise me something, Arabella. Promise me that if I am caught and you and Dickon are free you will still go to France. That you will do all in your power to reach Verity.’

  As his words penetrated her mind her body became rigid. ‘And leave you here? I have no illusions as to what will happen to you if you are caught. Already you are a condemned man.’

  Gripping her shoulders, he looked down at her, his expression taut, his eyes fierce. ‘Do you think I don’t know that? I have to face facts and so must you. If I am taken, only death will prevent me from joining you in France. Promise me that you will take Dickon to my sister.’

  She nodded dumbly, her throat swollen so much it hurt. ‘Yes. I promise.’

  * * *

  Edward was almost unrecognisable. He had not shaved since before Worcester and a thick black beard covered half his face. His clothes were ill fitting and patched and a battered old slouch hat covered his dark and curling hair, which he had carelessly tied back. Arabella looked no better in her much-worn clothes and an old cloak Bertha had given her. She carried a purse holding the money they would need to see them to Bristol and their passage to France.

  She looked down at her dismal attire with considerable amusement. ‘We certainly look the part.’

  Edward stopped what he was doing and, placing his finger beneath her chin, he tilted her face up to his.

  ‘You may be attired in the simple clothes of a countrywoman, Arabella, but you are more beautiful than you realise—far more so than any of the ladies who flutter about the grand halls in Paris.’

  Laughing up at him, she removed his finger. ‘Flatterer.’

  ‘It’s not flattery.’ Edward’s face was serious.

  The sun softened his handsome features—yes, even with his untidy beard he was still handsome. There was an intensity in his deep-blue eyes which made her heartbeat quicken. His lips drew back into a smile, his teeth gleaming and strong between his parted lips.

  ‘What chance has a common soldier with all the preening lords you will meet in France?’

  Arabella laughed, refusing to take him seriously. ‘I have no interest in preening lords. And you are not a common soldier.’

  He gave her a long silent look which surprised her, for he was not usually lost for words. ‘When we reach Paris and you are decked out in silk and satin, you will be like a princess.’

  Coming to stand beside them, her arms filled with blankets for their journey, Alice smiled as she took in their attire. ‘You certainly look like a modest couple. Anyone seeing you will be convinced you are what you pretend to be.’

  The word ‘couple’ brought a pink flush to Arabella’s cheeks. Edward merely grinned and, taking the blankets from Alice, put them into the cart.

  ‘Don’t forget to be on your guard at all times,’ Alice said, looking with concern from one to the other. ‘Perhaps getting out of the country is the sensible thing to do. The sooner you reach the coast and board a ship bound for France, the better. Sam has been to the village and tells me that a proclamation has been circulated seeking the King’s capture and a reward of one thousand pounds for his whereabouts. Some people would sell their soul for that much money. Anyone whose loyalties are not with the King will be on the lookout for any man resembling his description. The posters that have been put out describe a tall dark man over two yards high.’ She gave Edward a pointed look. ‘The description could be you, Edward. Have a care.�
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  At this news, all Arabella’s fears came to the surface and she had an impending feeling of doom. Because of this the dangers to them were greatly increased. Edward and the King were much alike and mistakes could be made.

  Alice hugged her sister warmly. ‘When you reach France, write and let me know you have arrived safely. Promise me.’

  ‘I do. I promise.’

  Alice turned to Edward. ‘My sister is a woman of integrity and honesty and she will endeavour to do her best for the welfare and protection of your son. She has a rare and generous soul and I love her dearly. Take care of her.’

  Seeing Alice’s anxiety, Edward smiled. ‘Don’t worry. I will do all in my power to look after her. You can depend on it. Now come, Arabella. It’s time to go. We have a long way to go and can delay no longer.’

  Arabella took her seat on the bench beside Edward, settling Dickon between them. He was quiet but excited to be going on a journey. Edward took the reins. The old horse that had served his time so well at Bircot Hall was between the shafts. Arabella turned to look at Alice and Margaret one last time. She had not left Bircot Hall since she had arrived after John’s death three years before. Now, to be cut off from the security of her family brought a tightness around her throat and a hollowness in the pit of her stomach as they passed beneath the gatehouse and the two of them disappeared from view. She was unsure of the journey ahead of them, unsure that everything would go as planned, but it was too late to turn back now.

  ‘I hope you know how to drive this contraption,’ she said as she was almost catapulted into the air when the cart bounced over a rut, causing Dickon much hilarity.

  Edward looked at her and laughed, relieved to be doing something positive at last. ‘What is there to know? The horse does all the work.’

  Chapter Five

  It was a strange kind of existence as Edward and Arabella travelled away from Bircot Hall. Dickon was excited about going on a journey with his father and Arabella. His eyes were wide and bright as he sat between them on the wooden seat. He had no idea where they were going or why, but for now it was all one big adventure.