The Rebel’s Daughter (10 page)

Samuel took his time to read the document
through. His ploy did not work, for the other soldiers had
dismounted and stormed the house. The thump of booted feet on
floorboards drifted across the yard, accompanied by a man’s shout
and a shrill female protest.

Samuel held his hands out in surrender,
the paper held aloft as if its contents confused him. “What is the
meaning of this? Sir Jonathan is in London, sir, on Court
business.”

The officer narrowed his eyes and said
something Henry couldn’t hear above the sound of a crash from
inside the house. At a shouted order, the remainder of the troop
fanned out through the grounds.

“
Henry,”
Tobias said, his voice low and urgent. “Find somewhere to hide. I
think there’s going to be trouble.”

Henry gave a brisk nod, then scampered
round the side of the stable toward the dairy and kitchen garden.
Both appeared empty, but he had no intention of hiding - not with
Mother still in the house. He had to protect her. Listening for the
crunch of booted feet, he crept around the fruit bushes in the
kitchen garden. Having reached a side-door, he had already dragged
it half-open when a rough hand grabbed him by the
collar.

“
And
where might you be goin'?” a rough voice snarled close to his
ear.

A fist struck Henry in his lower back,
cutting off his response. His lungs emptied, the momentum of the
blow sending him barrelling into the wall. He bounced off the
stonework and he slid to the ground.

“
Hopin'
to grab some of the valu'bles wuz we, lad?” The soldier, in a
stained leather jerkin and battered hat, stood over him,
grinning.

Dazed, Henry staggered to his feet, but the
soldier cuffed him again, sending him sprawling. This time, he
stayed put, his cheek pressed into the gravel.

The soldier gave an obscene oath Henry
only half-understood, and with a throaty laugh, moved
away.

When he was certain he had gone, Henry
wobbled to his feet, heart thumping. He gave silent thanks to
Samuel for insisting he wear groom’s clothes that morning. Had that
soldier known who he was, the treatment would have been far
worse.

Henry staggered into a rear corridor, where
two soldiers had found the meat locker and were tussling over a
joint of cooked ham.

Sara, the kitchen maid, stood with her hands
on her hips, glaring at them as if they were naughty children.

A third soldier with greasy hair hanging in
rats-tails raked Henry with speculative eyes, which dulled when he
saw nothing to interest him. With a contemptuous snarl, he gestured
Henry away.

Henry turned and fled before the man
changed his mind. Jumping at every sound, he crept along the
corridor, peering into each room as he passed. They all stood
empty, the floors strewn with items emptied from drawers and
chests.

When he reached the main hall, a sound
from above brought his gaze up to where a soldier descended the
stairs. His arms were full of linens and what appeared to be a
tapestry that used to be hanging in one of the bedrooms.

Betty Humbold followed behind. Showing no
more fear than Sara had, she hurled insults and muttered curses,
all of which the soldier ignored.

He grinned evilly over his shoulder as he
gained the front door, leaving Betty to hurl frustrated abuse from
the newel post.

Where was
Mother
?

Hearing the stable door flung back hard on
its hinges, Henry made for the front door, only to be dragged
backward by his collar.

“
What
are you doing here, Master?” Lumm snarled.

“
The
horses!” Henry waved in the direction of the yard.

“
It’s
too late. There’s nothing you can do.” Lumm tightened his grip on
Hendry’s coat.

Soldiers led the last of the Loxsbeare stable
away; trotting three chestnut geldings toward the gates on leading
reins.

The sight of the fourth made Hendry’s
heart contract.

Verity was hauled out into the sunlight, ears
flattened and eyes rolling in fear at the unfamiliar hands.

“
Don’t
pull her, she has a soft mouth,” Henry moaned.

Behind him, Lumm made sympathetic
murmurings, but his hold on Hendry’s collar stayed firm.

“
One of
those geldings was to be mine,” Henry said, the closest he had come
to rage since the soldiers had invaded the house.

Two uniformed men in the courtyard fought
over a turkey rug on the ground. One drew his sword, but a third
soldier intervened and separated them, ordering the pair away.

Henry cursed them under his breath, and
Lumm leaned down to whisper. “A pile of fine bed linens, a silver
candlestick, and a whole ham, are real treasures to them. In all
their lives they would never own such luxuries.” He reached into a
pocket and brought out a kerchief.

Henry stared at it, uncomprehending.

“
You’re
bleeding.” Lumm pressed the kerchief into his hand, pointing at
Hendry’s forehead.

Henry dabbed at his temple, frowning at
the unexpectedly large red stain left on the kerchief.

The officer with the scar was nowhere in
sight. His second-in-command and the magistrate remained in the
courtyard, idly watching the rest of the troops carry more portable
goods out of the house. Then came a curt order came from somewhere,
and the troopers re-mounted their horses, with bulkier packs than
when they arrived.

Samuel came through the front door,
flinging his head back toward the courtyard. “They have my ponies.”
He looked accusingly at Lumm, who shrugged.

“
They
must have found the cart.”

Hendr
y’s gaze lifted to the landing, where
the officer with the scar stood; his arms full of plate and a bed
hanging flung over one shoulder.

Lady Elizabeth
followed closely
behind, her face a mask of anger. “Stop at once, you ill-bred
thief!” she demanded, following him onto the half-landing, her eyes
ablaze with ire. Heedless of any threat, she placed herself in
front of the officer, who sneered and shouldered her
away.

She lurched against a post and swayed, but
remained on her feet. The officer turned and halted, as if noticing
her for the first time. His chin jutted forward, like a fox
spotting its prey. He dropped the bed hanging, and with his free
hand, groped for her throat.

She gave a gasp as her sapphire pendant came
away, reached out a hand to reclaim it, one foot hovering above the
top step. Her position was already precarious, and with her
equilibrium gone, she lurched forward and toppled down the flight
of stairs with a startled cry.

As she fell, her head struck the wall and her
body slammed headlong onto the floor at the bottom of the
stairs.

“
Mother!” Henry froze for long seconds, then galvanised into
movement, yanked out of Lummis grasp and threw himself forward. He
ran full pelt across the hall, sliding the last few feet on his
knees.

She lay eerily still, her pale curls fanned
out around her head, her face serene as if in sleep.

Henry lifted her head onto his knees with
shaking hands, stroked her hair. “Mother! Mother? Can you hear
me?”

A trickle of viscous, almost-black blood
slid from her ear down her jaw. Alarmed, Henry stared at it, his
stomach churning.

“
Fetch a
chirurgeon!” he screamed, stroking the pale curls away from her
face. “I need a cloth and water too.”
Mother wouldn’t like to get blood in
her hair
.

Tobias reached past Samuel and pressed his
fingers gently against Lady Elizabeth’s throat.

Henry stared at him, uncomprehending.
“She’s hurt, Master Ffoyle,” he sobbed. When Samuel remained still,
his gaze shifted to Tobias. He would know what to do.

Tobias glanced up at the older man and gave a
slow shake of his head.

The soldier halted on the stairs above them.
Watching.

Samuel gave a
muttered oath, then
made to climb the stairs, but Lumm wrapped both arms around him and
held on. “No, Master Ffoyle,” he said, grunting with the effort.
“They’ll hang you.”

Samuel continued to glare at the soldier,
fists clenched and his mouth working, but he did not move. Then he
heaved a long sigh, and relaxed against Lumm, who stepped back and
returned to Hendry’s side.

The soldier’s smirk slid off his face, and
his boots slammed into each step on the way down, the sapphire
necklace dangling loosely from his fingers. His back to the wall,
he skirted the body, then loped through the door.

“
Come
away, Master Henry.” Lumm tugged at Hendry’s arm.

“
What do
you mean?” Henry split a look between them. “Help me get her to her
chamber. Someone has to fetch the chirurgeon!”

Henry held Lummis gaze for long seconds
until he understood. “No!” he whispered, then more fiercely.
“No!”

Betty Humbold appeared from the kitchens,
her thick brows pulled together in a deep frown. She dropped to her
knees beside her mistress, her hands pressed to her mouth and
keening in a monotone, as fat tears poured down her
face.

Lumm encircled Henry with both arms and
hauled him upright.

“
Let go
of me, Tobias.” Henry struggled but he was no match for the older
man. “I want to stay with her.”

“
Henry,
Listen,” Samuel murmured. “We cannot leave her here.”

Henry stopped fighting and allowed Tobias
to guide him to the bottom of the staircase. He slumped onto the
bottom step, his hands held limp between his knees and head down.
Tobias bound Lady Elizabeth’s body in the discarded hanging, and
between them, they carried her outside.

Betty tried to wrap an arm round him, but
Henry jerked away. The last thing he wanted now was comfort. He had
let them kill his mother.

How had it happened so quickly? What was he
going to say to his father when he came home?

Bile rose into Hendry’s throat. His
stomach heaved and tears dripped onto his clasped hands as he
murmured over and over in the empty hall, “Mother.
Helena.”

* * *

Helena bolted upright in the
narrow bed, startled at the sight of the
landlady’s pudgy face leaning over
her, thick lips curled in a mocking grin.

“
Your
ladyship’s bath awaits.” She dumped a bucket of hot water
unceremoniously on the floor.

Helena rolled her eyes as the door clicked
shut. At least now she could rinse her hair and scrub road dust
from her gritty skin. The water cooled quickly, but at least it was
enough. However, being accustomed to having Chloe standing by to
deal with unreachable fastenings, the effort required to dress
herself was more complicated.

Pulling the draw cords on her shift was
easy enough, but attaching the bodice to her skirt proved
frustratingly difficult. She gave her discarded gown a shake,
bundled it into her pack, and went downstairs.

She found Bayle in the dining hall, a large
breakfast spread before him.

“
The
woman who brought the water was positively insulting,” Helena
complained, sliding onto the bench beside him. She helped herself
to eggs and pork from a platter on the table. “She barged into the
room without knocking and - what are you grinning at?” She frowned,
a chunk of buttered bread halfway to her mouth.

Bayle shook his head once and turned back
to his plate, smiling.

Their host made a show of hospitality,
sauntering over to their table to enquire if they had spent a
comfortable night. Helena suppressed a shudder, repelled by the
falsely ingratiating set of his bloated features and his enormous
black-nailed hands.

“
Aye,”
the man said. “We’ve 'ad troopers in and out of this place since
yest'dy morning.” He wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Pretty angry
they are too, with all them rebels loose hereabouts.”

Maybe Helena imagined it, but he spoke the
word “rebel” with contempt.

Bayle forked food steadily into his mouth,
saying nothing.

“
Caught
plenty of the poor devils too.” Undeterred the landlord chattered
on. “Hanged some of “em on the road.”

Then he asked the question Helena expected
since she had approached their table. “Where does your journey take
you when you leave us this fine morning, good sir?”

“
We’re
bound for Bristol.” Bayle lowered his tankard. “Though have no wish
to cross paths with angry soldiers or rebels. Perhaps you could you
offer me some advice?”

The landlord shrugged. “There be
soldiers on all roads leading east. There’s no avoiding “em.” He
narrowed his eyes at Bayle, then uttered a surly
good day
and moved
on.

“
We’d
better be on our way,” Bayle murmured. “Get your things and meet me
outside in a few moments.”