The Velvet Cloak of Moonlight

by Christina Courtenay

  ‘Will you permit me to stay here and give what assistance I can then?’ Rhys found himself saying. When he’d arrived earlier, he hadn’t made up his mind whether to remain or not. Reason told him to cut his losses and try his luck in France or Holland as a mercenary, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to leave now. It seemed cowardly, even though the odds were definitely against them.

  ‘Of course, we’d be happy to have you, young man.’ Lord Worcester smiled for the first time. ‘Make yourself at home. I’m sure the garrison could do with another officer. You’ve been fighting with the Prince Palatine’s troops, you said?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve been with Prince Rupert’s cavalry since ’42. He’s still at Oxford, or he was the last I heard.’ Rhys knew the prince had given up hope too so it was possible he’d already left the country. It made no difference now and Rhys wasn’t going back. They’d said their goodbyes, parting as friends since they’d got on very well throughout their time fighting together.

  ‘Good, good. We need all the experienced men we can find. Report to my son, Lord Charles, in the morning. He’s in charge.’

  ‘Very well. Thank you, my lord.’

  ‘No, thank you. I appreciate you bringing me news.’

  Rhys believed him and he couldn’t help but like the irascible old man. There was spirit in him and a sincere trust that what he was doing was right. Rhys only wished he could be as certain, but he’d made his choice. Now all he had to do was see it through to the end.

  That might be sooner than the marquis thought.

  Chapter Five

  Merrick Court, 22nd May 2016

  ‘So, I’m going to make some lists …’

  Rosie came into the kitchen with a pad in one hand and a pen in the other. She was as immaculately made up as always, hair in a neat bob, and her only concession to country living was the fact that she was wearing flat shoes instead of heels. Everything else – the designer jeans, expensive tailored shirt and chunky jewellery – was the same as she would wear in London. Tess didn’t know why this irritated her, but it did. She fortified herself with a sip of strong, very sugary, tea before asking, ‘What kind of lists?’

  ‘Of all the furniture and other items in the house. Anything of real value, that is.’

  ‘I said I can handle that myself.’ Tess frowned at Rosie.

  ‘I know, but this is for my reference. Although, naturally, I would hope you’d agree to give most of the things here to Louis, I do understand that you’ll want to be paid a little something for any proper antiques.’

  A little something? Give most of it to Louis? Tess had to make a conscious effort not to let her mouth fall open. Rosie had a nerve.

  The whole entail business had come as a surprise to all of them. Tess hadn’t known anything about it, as Giles had never mentioned it; while Rosie had been under the impression that Giles had sorted it out in order to make a will in favour of her children if he didn’t have any of his own. Apparently breaking an entail inheritance was a complicated process which would have involved the House of Lords and all sorts of legal procedures and, Giles being Giles, he’d simply put it off. He’d probably thought there was no hurry. Rosie had been incandescent at first when she found that out, since she considered that the estate and title should have gone to Louis. But she soon rallied and had now come up with another idea – she and her husband would buy the estate from the new Lord Merrick and all would be well.

  Tess found her voice. ‘Why on earth would I give everything to Louis?’

  ‘It all belongs in the family, surely you can see that? The contents are part of the house’s history. And anyway, Giles always meant for Louis to be his heir if he didn’t have children.’

  ‘Rosie, Giles left me nothing apart from the stuff in this house and until my business is more profitable I’ll need the money from selling it to live on. If you want anything, you’ll have to pay whatever it’s worth. I’m going to have it valued.’ She should have done this already, but she’d been putting it off. With the heir’s arrival imminent, it was clearly time to sort it out now.

  Rosie’s mouth tightened. ‘You’re being very unreasonable. Do you really feel you’re entitled to any of it in the circumstances? Giles told me he was divorcing you because you didn’t want children.’

  That wasn’t strictly true – she had wanted kids, but at first she hadn’t seen the need to rush. And then once she’d been married to Giles for a couple of years she’d come to realise he wasn’t the right man for her, and definitely not someone she would like to have children with. So they had been about to get a divorce, Tess couldn’t deny that. ‘Yes, but if we’d gone ahead, he would have had to give me a settlement. This is in lieu of that.’

  Rosie was right in a way as Tess didn’t feel entitled to receive a huge amount, but she was owed something and didn’t feel she was asking too much. Besides, the woman was annoying her and Tess wasn’t in the mood to give in. Her sister-in-law had always acted as if she was superior in some way, but now Giles was gone, Tess didn’t have to put up with that any longer.

  ‘Well, perhaps I should ask the solicitor how much Giles would have had to pay you, then we can work from there.’ Rosie attempted a wounded expression. ‘Although I always thought you had a soft spot for Louis and would want him to be happy.’

  Tess stood up and went to rinse out her mug. ‘Emotional blackmail won’t work. Go and talk to the lawyer if you want. Besides, you don’t even know if the new owner intends to sell Merrick Court. He might want to buy all the contents from me himself. It’s his family too.’ And hopefully he’d pay the going rate, not some paltry family discounted price.

  ‘Well, he’s not exactly been rushing to claim his birthright.’ Rosie made a face. ‘He can’t be very interested in it. No, I’m determined to secure it for Louis. The estate must stay in the family, as it has done for nearly a thousand years.’ This was said with an accusing glare at Tess, who had, in Rosie’s view, failed in her duty to provide Giles with an heir.

  Anger and resentment made Tess’s hands shake and she steadied them by gripping the edge of the sink. It wasn’t as if she’d intended for Giles to die before having children. ‘I never wanted it to be this way, Rosie.’

  Rosie sighed. ‘No, I don’t suppose you did. Anyway, I’m only trying to help by moving things along a little. It’s not as if you have anyone else here, is it?’

  That was also true. Tess’s parents and sister hadn’t even come for the funeral. They all lived in France and Sarah couldn’t possibly take the children out of school or nursery, and her parents had been needed to help Sarah, as always. Neither had they asked about her future plans. But she didn’t want to acknowledge how useless her family was when it came to supporting her.

  She calmed down. If Rosie wanted to make lists, what harm would it do? It wasn’t as though Tess really cared – she just wanted it all over and done with. ‘You’re right. Perhaps it would be helpful to compare your lists to the valuer’s as presumably you know more about the items here than they would. I wouldn’t want to be cheated, after all.’

  Rosie seemed mollified by this peace offering. ‘Exactly.’ Louis came into the kitchen and Rosie pounced on him. ‘Louis, you can come and help me.’

  ‘Eh? With what?’

  ‘Lists. You’ll be eighteen very soon, old enough to shoulder your responsibilities, although your dad will help, naturally. Running a big estate takes some getting used to.’

  ‘I’ve told you before, I don’t want this sodding house,’ Louis muttered. ‘You and dad have it if you like it so much.’

  ‘Don’t be ungrateful! It will be ours at first, of course, but you have to learn to look after it so you can take over. Come on, let’s go upstairs.’

  Louis rolled his eyes behind his mother’s back and followed her out of the room.

  Raglan Castle, 22nd May 1646

  Arabella tried to tell herself she wasn’t really looking out for Rhys as she dawdled by the entrance to the chapel after morning
prayers. Everyone was expected to attend, no matter what beliefs they adhered to, and she couldn’t see that it would do any harm listening to the chaplain, despite his Catholicism. They all needed to pray at this time as God’s help was certainly necessary, judging by the rumours going round. She wondered whether Rhys would be there or if he’d left already?

  The castle was teeming with people. It was a curiously built structure, more or less divided in half by the Great Hall with the so called Pitched Stone Court on one side and the Fountain Court on the other. Buildings surrounded both so that they formed two quadrangles, although one was slightly lopsided along the outer edge. Only the higher-ranking members of the household and their guests were allowed on the fountain side, however. Everyone else stayed around the Stone Court.

  No more than a fraction of the castle’s present inhabitants would actually fit into the chapel and Arabella assumed the rest must hold a service of some sort elsewhere. Fighting men had come flooding in during the last few months, while the marquis prepared his domain for warfare. Trees were cut down in order to avoid giving the enemy the advantage of cover – even the beautiful avenue leading to the castle’s main entrance – and fortifications built outside the walls. Accommodation had somehow been found for nearly eight hundred men, as well as a few of the neighbouring gentry who were afraid to stay in their homes. They were all crammed in, like pickles in a jar, with not an inch to spare anywhere. How, Arabella had no idea.

  She was currently sharing her room with three of Lady Margaret’s gentlewomen, two of them on truckle beds that were pushed out of sight during the day. It wasn’t ideal, but she wasn’t as bothered as some of the others who’d been muttering that it was beneath them to share in such a way. They all had to make sacrifices for the king’s cause. Those who didn’t want to had already left Raglan.

  ‘Lovely day, is it not?’

  The honey-smooth voice with its beautiful Welsh cadence made Arabella jump and her heart missed a beat. She looked up into the frank gaze of Rhys Cadell.

  ‘Yes, indeed.’ What else could she say? The sun was shining, summer almost upon them. The fact that she was enjoying this fine morning had absolutely nothing to do with the man standing beside her. Or so she told herself.

  ‘A shame the sun can’t dispel the storm clouds on the horizon though, wouldn’t you say? And I don’t mean that literally.’ He smiled.

  ‘No, we can but pray for deliverance.’ Arabella nodded towards the chapel behind them.

  ‘I don’t wish to alarm you, but I rather fear that God may not be able to help in this instance. Forgive me for asking, but is there nowhere else you could go, mistress? It would be wise to leave now while you still can.’

  ‘You think me a coward?’ Arabella drew herself up to her full height, which was only average, and glared at him.

  His smile grew and he held up his hands as if warding off her anger. ‘Never! I was merely concerned for your safety. For that of all the ladies and children here, if I’m honest. This is not the place for any of you during the coming months. It will not be … pleasant, shall we say.’

  ‘I thank you for your concern, but we’ll manage.’ Arabella wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or offended. It was nice that he cared – if he really did and wasn’t just making small talk – but she had as much courage as the next person and if the marquis, to whom she owed so much, asked them to stay, then that was what she would do. ‘Besides, I don’t have anywhere else to go,’ she admitted.

  ‘I understand. Then we will see more of each other as I’m staying too.’

  A strange kind of relief flooded her. He wasn’t leaving and perhaps he’d help protect them. It looked like he was big, strong and capable, a man to depend on. She felt safe next to him, she had to acknowledge, which was ridiculous really as she didn’t know him.

  ‘Oh, I am glad,’ she said, before she’d had a chance to stop the words. His immediate grin made her qualify this statement. ‘I mean, we need all the help we can get, obviously.’

  He bowed to her. ‘Of course. I never thought for a moment you’d be happy about me staying for any other reason. Good day to you.’

  It was clear he believed the complete opposite and Arabella felt her cheeks become suffused with colour. He sauntered off to speak to Lord Charles, who was standing near the fountain in the middle of the courtyard. She wanted to run after him and tell him he was wrong, but that would be a lie and she never lied.

  Damnation.

  And she never swore either. What was wrong with her? She was afraid she had a very shrewd idea of what ailed her and she didn’t like it. Not one bit. This was the worst possible time to develop any kind of feelings for a man, especially one she knew nothing about. And one who might be killed during the next few months.

  But then, so might they all.

  Chapter Six

  Merrick Court, 22nd May 2016

  At last the sun had made an appearance, after months of rain and gloom, and Tess decided she had to be outside on such a glorious day. It would get her away from Rosie and, anyway, she loved gardening. Or she used to, before her life was turned upside down. Today, she could really do with taking out her frustrations on something and the weeds, which had thrived on the constant showers, would be the perfect targets.

  Merrick Court was a wonderful old house that practically oozed charm and Tess understood very well why Giles had been obsessed with it. She loved it herself, but the title and all that it entailed had always been more of a burden than a privilege to her. She’d be better off without it. The garden, however, was a different matter. She would miss that terribly when she had to leave. It was like something from a gardening magazine, laid out in large squares with different features. Two walled gardens side by side – one for vegetables, one for roses – an orchard with fruit cages next to it, some formal lawns, parkland and what was left of an intricate Elizabethan knot garden. The only parts that were currently in any proper state were the lawns, vegetable beds and fruit sections. And that was all thanks to the ancient gardener, Bryn Jones.

  ‘Old Bryn’s been here forever,’ Giles had told her when he’d first introduced them to each other, but Tess could see the man wasn’t that ancient. Mid-seventies, perhaps? He was certainly the old-fashioned kind of gardener though and did everything properly. During her four years of marriage to Giles, Bryn had taught Tess a huge amount about growing vegetables, pruning, thinning and generally encouraging everything to grow. She now felt she had a handle on what needed to be done when and although he did most of it, she’d always helped whenever she had a spare moment. Until Giles’s accident …

  Well, time to get back into it as the May sunshine was making every part of the garden explode with greenery. She found the tools she needed and got stuck in.

  An hour spent battling bindweed, brambles, nettles and their pestilential friends calmed her down and at the same time invigorated her. As she set off towards the compost heap with a full wheelbarrow she had an inner glow of satisfaction. With that to hold onto, she would cope with Rosie. She’d just have to stay out of the way and let her sister-in-law get on with whatever she was doing. Perhaps she’d soon tire of her lists and go home.

  Deep in thought, she rounded a corner of the brick wall that enclosed the vegetable patch and almost rammed into a man who was bent over, pulling at a sapling that clearly shouldn’t be there.

  ‘Whoa!’ Tess swerved, then stopped dead as the man straightened up.

  Tall, with black hair that was shaggy and tousled, and with matching dark stubble, he had the kind of face that could sell millions of bottles of aftershave. Clear green eyes under perfectly sculpted eyebrows – Tess could picture them staring moodily out of an advert in a glossy magazine – and if he hadn’t oozed masculinity, she would have sworn he was wearing mascara, so thick were his eyelashes. He was lean and rangy, but not too thin – his shoulders and arms powerful – and as he was shirtless she could see that his upper body was nicely defined under a stunningly deep suntan. Ther
e was some sort of tribal tattoo high up on his left arm and his faded and torn black jeans showed that his legs were as muscular as the rest of him.

  ‘Who the hell are you?’ she blurted out, then felt her cheeks heat up. Not exactly a subtle way to greet one of the hottest men she’d ever met, but he had no business being in her garden. Well, Merrick Court’s garden. And she had no business finding him attractive – she was recently widowed, for heaven’s sake, and the last thing she needed at the moment was a man to complicate her life.

  His eyes reminded her of something – she’d been attracted to another green-eyed man the day before, the one at the castle who’d been gorgeous too, although in a different way. She frowned at the thought. What was the matter with her? And why was the county suddenly full of handsome men with emerald eyes?

  ‘And g’day to you too. I could say the same, eh?’ He leaned on the spade he’d been using to dig out the root of the sapling and regarded her with his head to one side as if he was wondering what she was doing there. His accent was Australian, or maybe New Zealand – Tess had had both Aussie and Kiwi friends at art college but could never tell which was which. Deliciously Antipodean in any case – she was a sucker for accents.

  She ignored his greeting. ‘I’m sure Bryn knows there’s no money to pay for help in the garden at the moment.’ Although in truth she couldn’t actually remember the last time she’d talked to the old man. She had been kind of a hermit of late.

  ‘Oh, yeah? Well, I don’t need paying,’ he said, with a smile that she found both infuriating and amazingly alluring. Yep, definitely model material. Was that why he didn’t need to be paid? He was already rich? But he wasn’t exactly dressed like a millionaire.

  ‘I’ll have to discuss this with Bryn.’ She picked up the handles of the wheelbarrow and almost overbalanced it in her haste to get away from this man. He was disturbing her equilibrium and he shouldn’t be in her garden. Damn it, Merrick Court’s garden. When would she stop thinking of it as hers?