Exile's Return (7 page)

At the thought of Henry, a band tightened on her heart. It had never occurred to her that she could be separated from the children. Henry was only four, still in petticoats, still a baby. What could she say to them that would ease the parting – for all of them? How could she explain that she would not be returning with them to Charvaley?

At the sign of the Blue Boar the coach turned into the courtyard, and Agnes dismounted even before the groom could put the footstool down. She took a deep, shuddering breath and, without looking back to see if Tobias and the Turners were following, she returned to the inn room where she had left the children in the care of one of the hostelry maids.

She stood in the doorway removing her gloves as the children ran toward her. She signed for the maid to leave, which she did with a quick dip of a curtsey.

‘Aunt Agnes!' At their shrill cries of welcome, her heart broke just a little more.

In normal circumstances she would have hugged them tight, but she could not bring herself to move. If she touched them, she could never let them go.

‘That's enough,' she said, employing a hard tone that drove the nail deeper into her heart. ‘Children, pack your belongings. You are leaving.'

‘Where are we going?' Lizzie asked. ‘Back to Charvaley?'

‘Yes,' Agnes answered. She glanced behind her as a shadow darkened the doorway. ‘Cousin Tobias has come to take you home.'

Henry shrank back against Agnes's skirts at the sight of Tobias. Behind him, the Turners hovered like dark birds of prey.

Instinctively Agnes's hand fell to Henry's shoulder, drawing his little body against her. He huddled behind her drawing her skirts around him.

‘Are you coming too, Aunt Agnes?' Lizzie, older and more attuned to the complex undercurrents of adult life, glanced up at her.

Agnes swallowed and straightened her back, holding her head high. ‘No, Elizabeth. Cousin Tobias is now your lawful guardian.'

‘But I don't want to go with Cousin Tobias. I want to stay here with you!' Henry began to cry.

‘Now, now, children,' Tobias said, in a tone that he probably thought of as soothing, but coming from a large man in a military uniform it caused both children to shrink back against Agnes. ‘Charvaley is your home. You belong there.'

‘But not with you!' Lizzie declared. ‘Why isn't Aunt Agnes coming with us? I'm not leaving without Aunt Agnes!' She took a step forward, her hands on her hips, three feet of aristocratic outrage. ‘I know what you did. You betrayed our father.'

Agnes thought she saw Tobias flinch at the harsh but truthful words, and wondered how much more Elizabeth knew about her father's betrayal and death. Adults always underestimated children.

‘That is not the concern of children,' Tobias said. ‘Mistress Fletcher, see that these children are packed and ready to leave in ten minutes. I will be waiting at the coach.' At the door he turned and looked at her. ‘And don't think of trying to escape with them. Say your farewells and bring the children to me.'

‘Colonel … ' Leah Turner stepped forward. ‘I can see to the children.'

Tobias held up his hand. ‘Thank you, Mistress Turner, but I suggest you come with me. We will wait for them in the inn yard.'

‘Thank you,' Agnes said, recognising that by leaving her alone with the children he was at least affording her an opportunity of a proper farewell. She supposed for that small kindness she should be grateful.

She waited until the door closed behind him and went down on her knees, her skirts billowing around her. The children fell into her arms.

‘Please don't make us go with Cousin Tobias,' Lizzie said, her voice muffled against her shoulder.

‘I have no choice, Lizzie. The Colonel has promised he will take good care of you.'

‘I hate Cousin Tobias,' Henry said with a vehemence that almost made Agnes laugh.

‘You don't know him. He has your best interests at heart.'

Lizzie stood her ground, her eyes blazing. ‘He did betray Father, didn't he? I heard Father telling you –'

Agnes straightened and fixed the child with a hard, uncompromising stare of disapproval. ‘Eavesdroppers hear no good of themselves, Lizzie. Shame on you! I do not know what part, if any, Cousin Tobias played in your father's arrest and it is not for you or I to judge him.'

Lizzie's mouth tightened and her eyes narrowed. ‘Yes … but … '

Agnes held up her hand. ‘It will not be spoken of again. What is past is done. You must be brave and strong. It would be what your father would expect of you. In a few days you will be back at Charvaley with the animals, and … ' She named all the members of staff who had known and loved the children all their lives. ‘Come on, let's pack your box.'

There was little to pack. Apart from their clothes, the children had few possessions — an odd assortment of wooden animals, the leather ball that Agnes had bought from a street vendor, and Lizzie's precious wooden doll. She tied the strings of their cloaks and settled hats on their heads. Handing the doll to Lizzie, she gave the children one last kiss and a hug.

‘Come children, Cousin Tobias is waiting for you. Be very good for him and for Mistress Turner. It is a long journey home.'

She threw open the door and ordered the soldier waiting outside to bring the box.

As the children emerged onto the open gallery that encircled the courtyard, Henry pulled back at the sight of the large, black coach. Agnes tightened her grip on their hands.

‘Remember your father. He was a very brave man and he would want you to be brave,' Agnes whispered to Lizzie, wondering if she was, in fact, trying to convince herself.

‘Good.' Tobias all but rubbed his hands together as they descended the rickety stairs into the inn courtyard. ‘Come children, into the coach. I promise you a special treat if you are good for me.'

‘What?' Henry demanded.

Tobias glanced at Agnes in mute appeal.

‘If you are very good, Cousin Tobias will stop at the baker on the corner and buy you one of those sugar swans.'

Tobias's lips tightened. ‘Sugar swans?' he muttered.

Agnes fixed him with a hard glare. ‘They are Henry's favourite.'

Henry's fingers tightened on Agnes's and she recognized the jutting of his jaw, so like his father. Not even the promise of sugar swans would pry him away. Agnes went down on her knees, wrapping the small, sturdy body in her embrace, breathing in the scent of him, holding her to him. Captain Turner grabbed her arm, wrenching her away.

Henry was lifted up by one of Tobias's soldiers and carried away, screaming Agnes's name. Another soldier had Lizzie firmly in his grip. Both children were unceremoniously dumped into the coach and the door slammed on them. Agnes had a brief impression of Lizzie taking her little brother in her arms as Tobias climbed in after them.

Lizzie's face, wet with tears, appeared at the window of the coach. She appeared to be wrestling Henry, who screamed uncontrollably and would have thrown himself out of the coach had not Tobias caught him by the collar and dragged him back. Agnes, still on her knees, covered her ears with her hands and doubled over on the filthy cobbles of the inn yard, her body wracked with sobs.

‘Agnes!'

She could not shut out the child's screams as the coach turned out of the inn yard into the street beyond.

***

Returning from his visit to the Ship Inn, Daniel arrived in time to witness the spectacle unfolding in the inn's courtyard. He recognized Agnes Fletcher kneeling on the muddy cobbles and his gaze moved from the sobbing woman to a large, portly man who stepped around the coach to harry the children inside.

The man glanced in his direction and Daniel drew back into the shadows, letting out a long exhalation of breath as he recognized the face of the man he had come to kill.

Tobias Ashby.

Ten years had not been kind to Ashby, but despite the portly belly and high colour he was still recognisable as the man who had ordered the cold-blooded execution of Thomas Lovell on the steps of his own home. Daniel's hand dropped to the hilt of his sword, his breath quickening. If he had his pistol to hand …

He steadied his breath. Here and now was not the time to mete out his own vengeance, not if he wanted to avoid his brother's fate.

Besides, he had another purpose now, and he needed Colonel Tobias Ashby alive for the time being if the King's gold would be his.

A few onlookers had gathered to gawk at the woman's distress but no one moved to help her. Even as the coach rumbled out into the street, passing Daniel, Agnes Fletcher still knelt in the inn yard, her arms wrapped around herself, her body wracked with great gulping sobs. The innkeeper's wife touched her shoulder but she threw off the kindly hand and rose to her feet, glancing toward the street where the coach had turned.

‘Henry!' she screamed, and seemingly oblivious to the stares and murmurs of the other patrons of the inn and the servants, she ran out into the street, passing Daniel, who hesitated only a fleeting moment before turning to follow her.

Passers-by stepped aside for the “mad” woman, and as the great black coach turned a corner Agnes ran after it, slipping on the mired street, screaming the children's names.

Daniel slowed his step as the coach trundled away, swallowed up by the press of people and vehicles. Agnes Fletcher stood in the middle of the road staring after it, tears pouring down her cheeks unchecked, oblivious to the angry shouts from a carter whose way she blocked.

Reaching her, Daniel touched her shoulder and put an arm around her to steady her, drawing her aside so the carter could pass. He drew her into the shelter of a doorway and she fell against him, her body wracked with heart-rending sobs.

‘Calm yourself, madam,' he said, patting her ineffectually on the back.

The sobs slowed to gulps and she drooped in his arms, as if all the fight had gone from her. Her voice muffled by his cloak, she said, ‘They're gone. Henry … he's taken Henry and Lizzie. I'll never see them again.'

Her obvious pain twisted like a knife in Daniel's heart.
God rot Tobias Ashby
, he thought, glaring at the curious crowd who had gathered to gawk at the spectacle.

‘Let's get you back to the inn,' he said, and even as he spoke her knees buckled and only his arm around her stopped her from falling.

He swung her into his arms, where she lay limp and unresponsive. As he hefted her against his chest, she seemed to weigh no more than a child herself, but looking down into her grief-ravaged, half-senseless face, he realised she was a woman well into her twenties.

He carried her back to the inn and laid her down on one of the large oak settles in the parlour. She lay quite still, like a broken doll, and he felt a qualm of concern. Hunkering down beside her, he chafed her hands, relieved when her eyelids flickered and she opened her eyes. For a moment she stared at him, uncomprehending, and then memory must have returned. Her face crumpled and large tears rolled unheeded down her cheeks as she sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees.

‘Go away,' she said. ‘I don't need your sympathy.'

Daniel cocked an eyebrow. ‘There's gratitude for you,' he said.

The landlord's wife came over with a glass filled with a ruby liquid.

‘For the poor lady,' she said, indicating the hunched, weeping woman.

Daniel drew the woman away out of earshot. ‘What happened?'

The landlord's wife shrugged. ‘A man came and took the children away.' She shook her head. ‘Such a to do!' She lowered her voice and jerked her head in Agnes's direction. ‘I don't know what she'll do now. She is already a week behind in the rent. My ‘usband's not going to stand for letting her spend another night under this roof unless she pays up. He's only let it go on this long for the sake of the children and their poor father.'

Daniel glanced at the broken woman and fumbled in his purse for the coins. The woman's face brightened as he handed over the coins that ensured Agnes Fletcher could spend at least one more night in the comfort of the Blue Boar.

As she counted the coins, she asked. ‘Is she a friend of yours?'

‘Never met her before,' Daniel said.

‘Then you're a good man. God bless you, sir.'

He took the port and sat down on the settle beside Agnes Fletcher. She hunched away from him, her tangled curls of brown hair hiding her face from view.

He proffered her the glass. ‘Drink this. Your room is paid for. Nothing more to worry about.'

Agnes hunched her shoulders and straightened, looking up at him. Life flickered back into her blotched and tearstained face.

‘Who are you? Why are you being so kind to me?' she said, wiping her face in a most un-genteel fashion on the sleeve of her gown.

Daniel set the glass down on the nearest table and swept his hat from his head. ‘Daniel Lucas, madam. If you wish to be left alone, I will … '

She laid a hand on his sleeve and her lips began to tremble again. ‘You have been very kind and I am being ungrateful. Sit with me a while longer, sir, I beg you. I don't want to be alone, not just yet.' She frowned, recognition flashing in her swollen, red-rimmed eyes. ‘But I know you, don't I?'

‘A little altercation over a ball,' Daniel reminded her.

‘Oh yes, Master Lucas. Henry thought you were a pirate.' Tears welled in her eyes again and she dashed them away. Taking a shuddering breath she glanced down at the glass on the table, picked it up, and downed the contents in one gulp.

She managed a wan smile. ‘I'm sorry. I must look a fright.'

Daniel had to agree that she really did not present a very attractive picture, with her swollen and blotched face and red-rimmed eyes and lank curls. So much for the comely wench. Agnes Fletcher was not one of those women who could cry prettily.

He kept his peace. ‘A pirate? Really. What on earth made him think that?'