The Rebel’s Daughter (33 page)

With his wife to distract him, Foe would most
likely adjust to normal life again in due course, she imagined.
However, the longer Aaron remained in Holland, the more romantic a
figure he would become in his own eyes, if not those of his fellow
Protestants. In her view, Aaron should return to England as soon as
possible, to take up the ties of responsibility he still had
left.

“
And
tell us, Master Foe, what does your future hold in London?” Robert
asked, apparently determined to divert the conversation away from
religion.

“
I’m a
hosiery merchant,” Foe replied. “Although, in truth, I have had a
great deal of time to think these last months.”

“
I
should imagine you have, sir,” Robert muttered under his breath,
passing his guest another glass.

“
Pamphleteering is rewarding, but can be somewhat
dangerous.” Foe took a gulp of Robert’s best claret. “I also write
for the
Review,
but I have a novel in mind.”

Robert raised an eyebrow.
Political or
religious rhetoric perhaps, but a novel
?

“
And
what shall this novel be about?” asked Alyce.

Helena smiled. Alyce spent a great deal of
her free time devouring novelettes, the more racy, the
better.

“
I have
not yet a story in my head, Mistress Devereux.” Foe’s face softened
at being the focus of Alice’s dazzling smile. “However, when I was
hiding from Troopers after Sedgemoor, I found myself huddled beside
a gravestone with a most unusual name inscribed upon it. I have
never forgotten it, and since then I have had a notion to name my
hero after that dead man.”

“
What
was the name?” Tobias asked.

“
The
gravestone bore the inscription,
Here lies Robinson
Crusoe
.”

“
Strange
indeed,” mused Robert. “I wonder what manner of story one could
write around such a name.”

* * *

“
What
does he say?” Celia asked Helena, referring to the letter Aaron had
sent through his messenger.

Master Foe had proved the hungriest man
she had ever seen, and he had spent the entire day partaking of
Lambtons' finest cuisine before Robert saw him off to Deptford in
his coach. By evening, Helena’s jaw ached from smiling at the man’s
accounts of how the entire country and everyone in it were doomed
under the Papist King James.

Helena broke the seal with
growing excitement, only for her chest to hollow out as she read
her brother’s much anticipated handwriting. “He says,
he hopes
I am well and happy
and will continue to conduct myself respectfully in my Guardian’s
home
.”

“
Oh
dear.” Celia swiveled on the stool next to Helena’s dresser, her
voice dull. “Does he have nothing more personal to say to a sister
he has not seen for so long?”

“
My
sentiments exactly!” Helena snapped the page and read on,
“
I must
thank you for the service you have performed in bringing our dear
Uncle Edmund’s body back to Devon.
” She broke off with an angry sigh “He
writes as if I were a stranger! Listen to this!
….I have most graciously been
received by His Highness Prince William, who discussed with me in a
personal manner the most urgent need to protect the Protestant
religion in England…
”
She
parodied the final words as she paced the room.

“
That
sounds dangerous for your brother,” Celia murmured. “Should he have
committed such intimate details to paper? I mean, mentioning the
prince?”

“
No he
should not have done so! And it’s practically treasonous!” Helena
crumpled the page in her hand as she continued to pace the room. “I
cannot believe that after all he has been through, all
we
have been through,
he takes such a risk!”

She could hardly believe her handsome,
sunny brother had written to her in this way. All those nights she
had lain awake after the rising, sending messages into the heavens
for him to stay alive, keep safe, and come home to her. Then his
first letter addressed to her contained inane instructions to
behave, and a calm announcement he planned yet another armed rising
against the King.

“
Why do
men who have bloodied themselves in battle, crawled away from the
field of blood with their lives and little else, their names ruined
and lost everything, why do they simply get up and do it all
again?” Helena demanded.

Celia shrugged. “Perhaps their memories
are poor.”

Helena only half-listened, her
thoughts on Aaron’s last words. She read them again, running a
finger beneath the line. “
…our father appears to have disappeared into the
mud and mist of the battlefield.”
She slapped the offending page on her
bureau, telling herself he was wrong. Their father still lived,
somewhere.

* * *

“
Would
you care to break your fast with me, Mistress Helena?” Lumm strode
forward and grasped her hands as she descended the stairs early the
next morning. “If you have not yet dined, of course.” His
expression was guarded, as if he presumed too much.

He looked nothing like a steward, in an
emerald green long-coat, with strands of his peruke tied into knots
with colored ribbon. “I should be glad to.” Helena accepted his
proffered arm with genuine pleasure, glad of the opportunity to
discuss Aaron with him alone.

Lubbock showed them to a table in a corner of
the dining hall, the room almost deserted so early in the day. A
serving man brought thin slices of buttered bread and hot chocolate
for Helena, while her companion ordered new ale, fresh bread,
cheese and cold meat.

“
What do
you think of Lambtons?” Helena asked, noticing he took no more than
mild interest in his food.

Helena pulled her shawl tighter, wrapping her
chilled fingers round her cup of chocolate in the cold room. Like
the observant host he was, Lubbock set a brazier near their table
without being asked.

“
I
wonder what my patrons at
The Ship
would think of this.” Lumm grinned as his gaze
swept the elegant room. “When Samuel told me where you and your
brother were going to live, I never imagined anything so
grand.”

Helena looked around her, trying
to see what he saw. Lambtons surprised everyone on their first
visit, but she was now accustomed to its unexpected luxury.
“
The Ship
Inn
must be
very different from - from Loxsbeare.” Simply speaking the name
aloud brought a lump to her throat.

He glanced at her over the rim of his
tankard, then set it down with a nod. “How could it not be? But I
shanty talk about the past if it upsets you.”

“
No, I
don’t mind,” she lied, forcing a smile. “Though I would rather hear
about Aaron. How is he, really?”

He wiped his mouth on a linen napkin and
leaned back in his chair as if giving himself time to consider. “He
is changed. Still handsome and charming, but his personality is –
darker, somehow.”

Helena did not respond, having come to this
conclusion herself.

“
His
hatred of the king colours his judgment, I feel. As it did
for…”

“
Of my
uncle, Edmund Woulfe?” Helena finished for him. He gave a slow nod.
“Having to tell Aaron about your mother was the worst thing I have
ever done.” He turned from her to stare morosely into his morning
draught.

“
They
were very close.” Helena’s hands trembled as she reached for the
chocolate pot. The container came up light in her grasp and she
indicated to a server to bring more. “Is what he is doing
dangerous?”

“
I
cannot say, but Prince William of Orange strikes me as a man who
will not act until certain of a favorable outcome.” His voice held
a cynical note.

“
And
there is still no news of my father?”

Lumm was p
revented from speaking by the
arrival of the server, who removed the empty plates and replenished
the ale and chocolate. With a nod and a smile at them both, he slid
a plate of tiny biscuits onto the table.

“
They
have been experimenting in the kitchen again.” Helena watched as he
plucked an oval from the dish, examining it closely before taking a
bite.

She frowned, the action sticking a chord
in her head, his mannerism familiar. The tilt of his head, the way
he held his hand - something that struck a memory she couldn’t
quite place. “I couldn’t help but notice that you and my father
appeared to enjoy an unusual relationship at Loxsbeare.”

“
What do
you mean?” He stared at the biscuit he turned over in his
fingers.

“
You
talked to him in a way that no servant talks to his
master.”

“
My
relationship with Sir Jonathan bothered you?”

Helena shrugged. “You were always in his
company. Out on the estate and in the house. You went with him to
Exeter and Plymouth, when before he always used to take…” she
faltered, unwilling to admit the one he often took was herself. Her
father’s neglect had hurt her. “I distrusted you.”

“
I
know.” His gaze held hers with something like compassion, yet
without resentment. He brushed crumbs from his breeches with the
back of his hand. Watching him, Helena’s eyes narrowed. How he
reminded of someone.
But who
?

“
Why did
you want to bring me the letter, then go all the way to Holland to
see Aaron?”

He ducked his head, and slanted
a look at her from beneath lowered lashes that made her gasp at its
familiarity.
“Who are you, really, Tobias
Lumm?”

He smiled, a slow, beautiful
smile, bringing tenderness into his eyes. He leaned forward until
their faces were inches apart.
“Sir Jonathan met my mother about a year before he
married Lady Elizabeth.” The corners of his mouth crinkled and a
dimple appeared.

Helena saw it, and everything became
clear. “Go on,” she whispered, her heart hammering in her
chest.

“
He was
young, younger than I am now. He was handsome and wealthy, with a
whole city paying him homage as Thomas Wolfe’s son. There was some
rivalry between him and his twin when they were younger, I believe,
so…” He gave a shrug as if explanations were unnecessary. “My
mother was pretty, flirtatious, and flattered when he paid her
attention.”

“
Father
told you all this?”

Tobias nodded. “When I first came to
Loxsbeare.”

“
What
happened?”

One arched brow slid upward. “When she
discovered she carried me?” At Helena’s nod, he went on, “What you
would expect? Your grandfather, Thomas Woulfe put money into the
inn on condition Jim Lumm made an offer for my mother. Your
grandfather had already sought a betrothal for your father, and he
wasn’t going to let my mother ruin his plans.”

“
Yes I
see. When did you discover you were not his?”

“
Mother
burdened me practically from birth with the knowledge Jim was not
my father.” His mouth twisted. “She would taunt him when he tried
to discipline me, so he let me run wild, and saved his fathering
for my four half-brothers.” He saw her frown and hurried on. “He
was a good father. I never had to suffer the beatings my brothers
did. In some ways, that spoiled me.” He indicated his embroidered
burgundy vest beneath the long coat and breeches and the perfectly
tied cravat and lace at his wrists. “She encouraged my vanity, as
you see.” He laughed a full, happy laugh, revealing even
teeth.

“
When
you were young, did you know who your father was?”

“
No, not
until Sir Jonathan offered me the stewardship of
Loxsbeare.”

Helena sat back in her chair, her thoughts
torn between resentment that she had never known any of this, and
fascination at the fact her father had another child.

In a way she was pleased, because had
their lives not been so dramatically altered, they would still be
living at Loxsbeare, where Helena’s distrust and jealousy would
have rejected the truth, and spoiled any future relationship
between them. Idly she wondered if her mother had been aware of the
situation.

“
Your
mother knew,” he said, as if reading her thoughts.

“
She
always treated you kindly.” Her tone was defensive, forestalling
any complaint.

“
A true
lady, she always behaved graciously toward me. Although she had
every reason not to do so. When Samuel Ffoyle suggested Sir
Jonathan employ me at Loxsbeare, she agreed willingly.”