Exile's Return (16 page)

‘Why would your stepson inherit it?' Daniel asked.

Jonathan shot him a quick sidelong glance. ‘A decision of my grandfather, forced on him by my own recklessness. On his death, were I to have inherited, the estate would have been immediately forfeit. This way it stayed intact.'

‘But if the King returns … '

Thornton waved a hand. ‘Thomas is nearly eighteen, and he has his own father's lands in Yorkshire. I would hope he will allow Kate and I to live out our lives here, but that is something we will discuss in the future. What about you?'

Daniel stared into the fire for a long moment.

‘I went to Bruges seeking news of my brother,' he said at last. ‘To be honest I had not thought he survived Worcester, but Lord Longley said he had been hanged for his involvement in a plot to kill Cromwell.' He looked up. ‘Do you know anything about it?'

Thornton straightened slightly and shook his head. ‘I know only what I read in the London newssheets. What I can tell you is that Kit was badly wounded at Worcester. I saw him fall. He had taken a pistol ball in his leg but you know how it was that day … ' He trailed off and both men stared at the fire, reliving the horror of 3 September 1651. ‘He wouldn't have escaped unaided and I can only assume he was taken prisoner. But it seems, unlike you, he did get away and lived long enough to get himself embroiled in the foolish plots of ‘54. By all accounts they hanged him in the Tower of London.'

Daniel sensed an unspoken “but” in Thornton's words. He narrowed his eyes. ‘You heard otherwise?'

Thornton shrugged. ‘No … yes … foolish, unsubstantiated rumours that I give no credence to. But you knew your brother better than I.'

Daniel shook his head. ‘I'm not sure I did. They intimated that Kit had turned coat. That he was a traitor, a spy set by the Commonwealth and that the plot was betrayed by him.' The knife twisted in Daniel's heart. ‘If that is true I don't understand why he would have turned traitor. Kit would never … '

Thornton looked up sharply. ‘Don't be so swift to judge, Lovell. Someone betrayed the plotters. Three good men died on the gibbet as well as Kit. The traitor in their midst may have been Kit or anyone else.'

Daniel swallowed. ‘But Kit? Kit was a king's man to the bone.'

Thornton cleared his throat. ‘There was a man, Cromwell's Secretary of State, John Thurloe. He had organised a system of spies and agents that Queen Bess's Walsingham could only have dreamed of. I would wager a bag of gold that half the men surrounding Charles are in the pay of the government. Nothing happens in the exiled court without Thurloe, or whoever it is who has replaced him, knowing about it. If Thurloe had an interest in your brother, he could be very persuasive.'

Something in the man's tone made Daniel look up. ‘You met him?'

‘Oh yes.' Thornton held up his hands, allowing the cuffs to fall away from his scarred wrists. ‘I carry these as a permanent reminder of Master Thurloe. He thought to turn me to his employ.'

‘But you didn't turn.'

Jonathan shook his head. ‘No, but between us, it would have been very easy to have agreed to whatever he had to offer. Freedom for the price of court gossip? Don't think too poorly of your brother, if indeed he fell into Thurloe's hands. The choice, when it was offered to him, may not have been a choice.'

Daniel's fingers tightened on the arms of the chair. ‘If he was responsible for the deaths of those three men, Sir Jonathan, I am not sure I could forgive him that, whatever the reasons.'

Jonathan's level gaze met his and held it for a long moment before he said, ‘You are swift to judge, Daniel, but you may never know. Kit is dead, God rest him.' He smiled fondly. ‘He was always trouble. What of the rest of your family?'

‘I don't know. I left my mother and sister at Eveleigh. My grandfather was old and ailing when I left home, so I imagine he is long gone. With Kit dead, I am probably Lord Midhurst.'

Thornton smiled. ‘Do I offer you my congratulations or my commiserations … my Lord?'

Daniel shook his head. ‘Neither. I can make no claim on the estate while I remain outside the law.'

At this the older man raised his eyebrows. ‘And are you outside the law?'

Daniel laughed. ‘Very much so. I escaped from my sentence in Barbados and I have had a profitable few years on a French privateer.'

Jonathan Thornton nodded, a smile touching his mouth. ‘You are indeed an outlaw, my friend. But what of your plans? Why come back to England now when you could have just sat quietly with the Court in Bruges and bided your time?'

Daniel hesitated for a long moment before he replied. ‘I have unfinished business of my own.'

Thornton shook his head. ‘We all have unfinished business, Lovell, but there comes a time when we have to let the past lie.'

Daniel turned his gaze to the fire, watching the flames catch a twig with a leaf, sending it flying up the chimney. ‘I witnessed my father murdered in cold blood. He had surrendered Eveleigh and yet Ashby ordered him shot on the steps of his own home.'

Thornton frowned. ‘Ashby? Is that the same Ashby Agnes told us about?'

Daniel nodded and Thornton shook his head. ‘So that's what binds you and Mistress Fletcher. Does she know you are seeking revenge on this man?'

Daniel swallowed. ‘I've tried to be honest with Agnes. I've told her as much as she needs to know. Our interests align. If she wants the children returned to her keeping then only Ashby's death will accomplish that.'

Thornton's lips tightened and he frowned. ‘Revenge is a dangerous master, Lovell. If there is to be a reckoning, for both of you, the time is coming with the return of the King. You must be patient.'

Daniel shook his head. ‘No … the King is preaching forgiveness and I can never forgive Tobias Ashby. It's all I have. It's all that has driven me for the last few years. It's what sent me to Worcester.'

‘And Agnes is your entry into Charvaley?'

Daniel nodded. ‘There is more to this than just my personal feelings, Sir Jonathan. You were right at the start, I do have a commission from the King – to find the gold James Ashby hid before he was taken.'

Thornton raised an eyebrow. ‘Gold?'

Daniel met the man's eyes. ‘Gold Unites. Elmhurst waylaid it on the way north and it was intended to be used to finance the uprisings of July that never happened. It's hidden somewhere in Charvaley and only Elmhurst knew where.'

‘He told no one before he died?'

‘I don't believe so. I am hazarding a guess that is why his cousin was so anxious to return the children to Charvaley. He too is looking for the gold.'

Thornton leaned forward, a frown puckering his forehead, but if he had been about to ask a question he got no further. They were interrupted by a hurried knock and Ellen bearing a lunch tray.

Rising to his feet, Thornton said, ‘Whatever your plans, Lovell, you are welcome to rest here and regain your strength. We will talk later.'

With that he turned and strode from the room, leaving Daniel to the mercy of Ellen.

Seven Ways, Worcestershire
20 November 1659

The horse fidgeted, shaking its head with a jingle of bridle. Its rider sighed. He had been watching the red brick house for too long. He was cold and his horse sensed that a warm stable and food lay within its reach.

He had never been a coward, had always faced whatever life threw at him — even death — but now he felt fear clutching at his heart as it had never done before.

A hundred questions crowded his mind, deafening him from one big question.
What if the note had been wrong?

The horse shifted its feet, its ears swivelling.

‘You're right,' the man said aloud. ‘If nothing else I get to see an old friend, although what in God's name I am to say to him … '

He straightened in the saddle and kicked the beast forward.

As he rode into the courtyard and looked up at the red walls and mullioned windows, he tried to recall if he had been here before. It seemed familiar, but those harum-scarum days of the war had begun to merge and blend.

Leaving the horse with a groom, he asked to see Sir Jonathan Thornton but refused to give his name. The elderly steward seemed to take this lack of courtesy in his stride and showed him into a room that may have once been a parlour, but the chill in the air indicated that it was now only be used for suspicious visitors.

He removed his hat and gloves and set them on the table, and was in the act of untying the strings of his cloak when the door opened. The two men stood staring at each other for a long, long moment.

‘Christ!' Sir Jonathan Thornton blasphemed.

‘I have been called many things but never, ever compared to the Good Lord,' Kit Lovell replied.

Jonathan closed the door behind him and leaned against it for a moment.

‘Like our Good Lord, it appears you have the ability to rise from the dead,' he observed.

Kit held up his hand to stay the inevitable questions. ‘A long … very long story, Thornton.'

Thornton continued to stare at him as if he were indeed a ghost. ‘What brings you here? … Of course, your brother … But how?'

Kit's heart skipped a beat. ‘So it's true? He's here?'

Jonathan nodded. ‘Been here just over a week. He's recovering from a bout of marsh fever. How the hell did you know?'

Kit afforded himself the luxury of a small smile. ‘I have friends in London who sent me a message.'

It had been a cursory note, written in Jem's poor hand. “
Daniel. Seven Ways.
”

Just three words, but it had been enough. No one ever forgot a name like Seven Ways.

‘He's in the library,' Jonathan said at last. ‘He … thinks … knows … you are dead. Do you want me to speak to him?'

Kit shook his head. ‘No. This is between the two of us.'

Jonathan nodded. ‘This way, then.'

Picking up his hat, gloves and cloak, Kit followed his old friend through the winding maze of corridors of the old house. Jonathan stopped outside a carved oak door and looked across at Kit with a question in his eyes. Kit shook his head. He would face this meeting alone.

He opened the door, revealing a long, low, pleasant room overlooking the front entrance to Seven Ways and the ancient moat that surrounded the manor house.

In the scene he had rehearsed a hundred times on the long ride from Hampshire, Kit had seen Daniel as a nineteen-year-old … still, to his way of thinking, a boy. But the man by the fire, who looked up with enquiry in his eyes, was not a boy but a man, lean and hard, with lines around his eyes and mouth that spoke of hardship and suffering.

Daniel let the book he held slide unregarded to the floor as he rose to his feet.

‘You …' The word came out as a hoarse whisper.

‘Good morning,' Kit said, affecting a bravado he did not feel. ‘I believe you have been looking for me?'

‘Daniel, I found that … ' A woman's voice jolted him and he turned to see a young woman standing by a bookshelf, a slim volume in her hand.

She looked from one man to the other, her brow creasing in puzzlement.

‘Daniel, are you all right?' she enquired.

When Daniel didn't move or speak, Kit recovered himself sufficiently to sweep her a courtly bow.

‘Please excuse my brother,' he said. ‘He seems to have lost his tongue and his manners. Christopher Lovell, sometimes known as the Comte D'Anvers, but to my family just Kit.' He forced himself to smile. ‘You,
mademoiselle
?'

‘Kit?' She swung her gaze to Daniel. ‘But you're … '

‘Dead?' Kit suggested. ‘One evening, when we are better acquainted, I shall tell you a most interesting story, Mistress …?'

The girl coloured and sank into a curtsey. ‘Agnes Fletcher, sir.'

Kit turned his attention back to Daniel, seeing now the pallor of recent illness beneath the tan and the dark smudges that shadowed his brother's eyes.

‘You've been ill. Are you recovered?' he enquired.

Daniel found his voice. ‘A bout of marsh fever.' He glanced at the woman. ‘Agnes, can you leave us?'

She set the book down and hurried toward the door. ‘Of course,' she said. ‘Can I fetch refreshments … ?' When neither man answered she ducked her head and slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her, leaving the two men alone.

‘How did you find me?' Daniel asked with a noticeable crack in his voice.

Kit shrugged. ‘I received word that you were in England.'

Daniel narrowed his eyes in thought. ‘It could only be from the Ship Inn.'

No point in lying. ‘Jem and Nan Marsh have been loyal friends. They know the whole sordid story. Of course they told me of your unexpected reappearance in civilization.' Kit searched his brother's face, at once so familiar and yet the face of a complete stranger. So many questions to ask, so much to say, but all he could manage was a strangled, ‘When I received Jem's message, I thought it best to see for myself before I break the happy news to the rest of the family. We've been … disappointed before.'

‘The family?' Daniel asked in a tight voice.

‘Your mother, your sister, my wife, our children … our adopted children,' Kit said, realizing as he said it how much had happened in the intervening years. He didn't even know where to start. He took a deep, steadying breath, struggling to keep his emotions under control.

Daniel turned away and paced the room for a long moment. He stopped in front of Kit and cleared his throat.

‘Everyone told me that you died … executed for your part in a plot. How … '

‘When it comes to Lazarene resurrections, Daniel,' Kit interrupted, ‘I could ask you the same question. We went to Barbados to bring you home, Thamsine and I.'

Daniel frowned. ‘Who's Thamsine?'