I, Coriander (26 page)

The palace was bustling with people and Edmund seemed more than a little annoyed to see that the riff-raff, as he called them, were allowed in. One young man took off his plumed hat and bowed at me in an elaborate manner.

‘What a silken fop,’ said Edmund, pointing at the young man. ‘He has so much ribbon about him, he looks as if he has plundered six shops and set up twenty country pedlars.’

Mistress Bedwell said Edmund was a most amusing young fellow, which I did not think boded well for her sense of humour.

We walked through the Privy Garden before going back to the Bedwells’ house, where we said our farewells. I had enjoyed being out on the river again and seeing Whitehall, and watching so many people go by. It brought colour to my cheeks, which Edmund took to be a sign that I was much taken with him. No doubt he thought our marriage was a foregone conclusion.

‘
C
oriander,’ called Hester when we returned. ‘Come quick! I have such wondrous news to tell you.’ I went upstairs to her chamber to find Joseph fast asleep in his cradle and Hester sitting on the edge of the bed.

‘Hester, what are you doing? Should you not be resting?’ I said.

‘I have been resting, but you will never guess who is here,’ she said excitedly.

‘Who?’

‘My brother Ned. He has just arrived. He has been all over the country trying to find me. Can you believe it?’

There was a knock on the door and there was Danes with a freshly laundered gown.

‘Coriander, your father wants you to come down and meet the visitor,’ said Danes. I smoothed out my skint and ran down to the study.

Ned Jarret was a big man, red-faced and with red hands. He had such a look of Maud about him that to begin with I felt anxious. It was only when he talked that all similarities with Maud ended, for a kinder, sweeter man would have been hard to find, and his story was a sorrowful one and most touching.

It appeared that he had got caught up in the fighting and joined Cromwell’s New Model Army. It was not until years later that he came across his father, living in penury in Birmingham.

Ned had been bruised about the head. He was much haunted by the dark things he had seen, and had little appetite for living. He took care of his father as best he could and later they were glad to find work in the North Country with a farmer who had lost all his sons in the fighting and needed help on the land, even from broken men. The two of them lived together in peace.

This much he told us before Hester came down. My father and I left them to talk, for it was clear that Hester wanted to be alone with her brother.

We were a large group to sit down that night for supper: Danes, Master Thankless, Hester and Gabriel, Sam, Ned, my father and me. The candles were guttering before half the stories were told.

‘Tell me, Ned,’ said Gabriel, ‘how long has it taken you to find Hester?’

Ned said very quietly, ‘I wish I had had a mind to look for her earlier, but my head was so muddled with memories of bloodshed that I could not think straight. When at last I went back to our village I was told all manner of tales, and I truly did not know who or what to believe.’

‘Is your father still alive?’ asked my father.

‘No, sir, he has been dead since last Michaelmas, God rest his soul.’

‘I am sorry to hear it, and I am sorry too that you did not find Hester sooner.’

‘So am I, for I would dearly love to have seen my father again and to have looked after you both,’ said Hester with tears in her eyes.

Ned took hold of her hand. ‘You were always in our prayers.’

Hester sobbed, and after a while my father said, ‘I must tell you, my dear sir, that you have released me from a tide of woes. To know that my marriage to Maud Leggs is more than dubious is a joy indeed.’

‘You cannot be married to her, sir. Surely there is no law that allows a woman to have two husbands at one time.’

‘Ned,’ said my father, ‘I assure you that I married your mother believing her to be a widow woman whose husband was killed in the war.’

‘I can credit that,’ said Ned. ‘She was a fearsome woman with little goodness or softness about her. When I was small, I thought she was the storm made real. She had had a hard life, one that had made her all the harder.’

Hester rested her head on her brother’s shoulder.

‘I was at my wits’ end to think I might never see you again. I did not care what befell our mother,’ said Ned, ‘but I loved you dearly, Hester. You were such a brave little girl and so sorely used. I lay awake many nights wondering about your fate. I expected to find you in a bad way from all the talk I had heard about my mother and the preacher. I am overjoyed to find you married and well settled in life.’

That night was the merriest I could remember for a long time. I thought what an odd collection we were, a Round-head who had fought for Cromwell and Royalists who had supported the King, each one willing to die for his beliefs, and yet here we all were with more to unite us than divide us.

‘This country has been torn apart,’ said Ned. ‘Brother against brother, father against son. Nothing good can come about when a dog starts to eat his own tail.’

‘Hear, hear,’ said my father. ‘This is a new decade and a new beginning. Let us hope this king will find a way to heal the wounds. Let the fountains run with wine, not blood.’

Hester said quietly, ‘Master Hobie, if my mother was never married to you...’

‘The best thing that came with your mother was you,’ said my father. ‘Why, look what a family I have. Now, that is something to be proud of.’

‘I quite agree,’ I said, ‘for I would never have had a brave and lovely sister had Maud not come into our lives.’

E
ver since the luncheon with the Bedwells, Edmund had called each day to see me, whether he was welcome or not. In truth I began to dread his visits. I wished I could feel something for him, but I did not.

‘He is a good-looking man,’ said Hester.

‘I am sure he is,’ I replied.

‘He is clever. Why, Gabriel said he could talk Wednesday into Sunday if he had a mind to.’

‘I do not doubt it. Oh Hester, I feel nothing for him, nothing. ’

‘You well might in time. Why, many a man and woman who marry in this fair city do not think much of each other at first, and later fall in love.’

‘Hester, would you have married Gabriel and run away with him if you did not love him?’

‘No,’ said Hester. ‘But that is different. I mean -’

‘No it is not,’ I interrupted. ‘I would rather not marry at all than marry a man I cared naught for.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Hester. ‘You have it bad for someone. That much I can see.’

All I could do was nod, for sobs were doing their best to make a fool of me.

The more Edmund pushed himself upon me, the more I missed Tycho. Why could I not be left in peace, given a chance to recover myself? Then maybe I would feel differently for Edmund, though I doubted it.

At night, alone in my chamber, I would look at my silver shoes and long for a different ending to my story. I could not sleep, I did not care to eat: in short, everything in me felt unsettled and jangled about. I almost regretted my decision to come back. I would have to dry my eyes and tell myself not to be childish.

No doubt my behaviour led everyone to believe that I was in love with Edmund, who clearly thought that it was his God-given right to have me as his wife. Quite how this all had come about so quickly, and without my compliance, baffled me and made me feel guilty too. In truth, I felt nothing for Edmund Bedwell and I longed for him to disappear. All I could think was that in life people prefer things to be tidy and I suppose a marriage is, after all, a familiar knot.

It was coming up to the end of May. Our household, like the rest of London, was preoccupied with the return of the King. Everyone wanted the day to go well and each family made their own plans for the celebration. Those fortunate enough to have houses that overlooked the route he was to take suddenly found they had many new friends.

The tailor’s shop had without doubt one of the best views. The plan was to go to Master Thankless early in the day, before the streets became too crowded. The whole of London was expected to turn out.

There was much excitement in our household because my father had been asked to accompany the King on his ride back to Whitehall. There was talk that he would be given a knighthood for services rendered to His Majesty. When Danes heard the news, she looked as if she was floating on air, so proud was she of my father. ‘Oh sir,’ she said, wiping her eyes, ‘Eleanor always told me that you would be a great man one day.’

The evening before, Edmund had come to our house and said that he wanted to talk to my father alone. I watched him from the landing. England was free of its tyrant and yet with every turn of the hourglass I felt my freedom slip away like the sands of time.

Edmund left without asking to see me and I felt much relief when the door closed behind him. Then my father called me to his study. He was dressed in travelling clothes, his saddlebag waiting by the front door, in readiness to join the King’s party and ride behind the King on his triumphant journey through the City.

‘Do you know what Edmund wanted?’ he asked.

I felt sick and leaden in the pit of my stomach. I knew what he was going to say.

‘Edmund has asked for your hand in marriage. He put it most excellently,’ said my father. ‘He gave all manner of good reasons why you should be his wife. Your admirer has it all planned out.’

‘I wish much that he would leave me in peace,’ I said peevishly.

‘Well, he seems to have his mind set upon marrying you, and you could do a good deal worse.’

‘But Father, I do not love him. I never will.’ Then I said something that took even me by surprise. ‘I love someone else.’

There, I had spoken the words.

My father stood looking out of the window at the river. The bells had started to ring out.

‘I feared this,’ he said, turning back to look at me. ‘It is written all over you. Who is this person? Where is he?’

‘He comes from my mother’s world. He is a prince. His name is Tycho. I left him to come home to you. There is no need to worry. I will never see him again,’ I said sadly.

‘When I met your mother that day on the road by the oak tree,’ said my father, ‘I fell in love with her at once. I would have followed her to the ends of the earth. The greatest fortune in my life was that she felt the same way. I cannot force you to marry a man you do not care for. What folly that would be. You must be true to your heart, Coriander.’

‘That is the trouble, Father. My heart is not here, not in this world, and I am torn apart,’ I said.

‘My poor Coriander,’ said my father. ‘I must confess I thought that if you were to marry Edmund, you would stay. In truth I could not bear losing you again. I know one thing. If your mother were alive, she would tell you to be brave and true to what you feel. It is what she did. I can see that Edmund would never make you happy, and to rub along together is, I can assure you, not enough. I ask only that you wait until the King has returned. If then you decide to put on your silver shoes, I will understand.’

‘Father, it is too late,’ I said.

‘I hope not.’ And he kissed me and left the room and I stood in the study looking at the Thames flowing past, and cried, pulled like the river’s current between two worlds.

35

A Fool and his Periwig

L
ondon awoke to a chorus of bells that have so long been silent, chiming once again for the coming of the King. The very air seems charged with excitement.

Early in the morning Edmund came round to ask me to marry him. He chose the worst moment, when the house was in turmoil. There he stood, in the middle of the hall, dressed in a new suit with a coat that went down to his knees and silk stockings up to his breeches and bows on his shoes. He was wearing a grand periwig that fitted him ill, making his face look small and mean.

‘Coriander, pray, I would like a word in private,’ he said as Hester rushed down the stairs with the baby, who just that moment had been sick on his new gown. In the kitchen I heard a pan drop and clatter loudly on the stone floor. Ned pushed past us in his shirtsleeves with a bowl of water.

‘We will never be ready in time,’ I heard Danes say.

Edmund took no notice and opened the door to the study as if it was already his own.

‘Please, can it wait?’ I pleaded. ‘This is not a good time.’

‘On such an auspicious day? I can think of none better,’ he said, moving me firmly into the study and closing the door on all the familiar, friendly noises of the house.

‘I want you to be my wife.’

I could not think what to say except a blunt no. My lack of response in no way silenced Edmund.

‘Ours would be, as I am sure you will agree, a most perfect match. Both our families have much to gain from our marriage. I have already spoken to your father. Naturally, in return for my good name, I would expect you to run a neat and tidy home, bring the children up in a God-fearing manner and at all times obey,’ and here he smiled a thin smile, ‘indeed, worship me as your husband.’

I felt like bursting out laughing and had to bite the inside of my mouth to keep myself from doing so, but Edmund, unaware, carried on just as if I had agreed to his proposal.

‘As you know, I am set on entering Parliament and I would require my wife to stand beside me in all matters.’ He turned so that I could see his sharp, unforgiving features and took out a pressed handkerchief into which he blew his nose loudly.

Oh please hurry up and be gone, I thought, hoping that someone would come to look for me and so distract him.

He cleared his throat. ‘Coriander, I have consulted some prominent friends and we agree that it may be best for you to be known simply as Ann Bedwell. It is a more fitting name for a Member of Parliament’s wife.’

I replied as kindly as I could that I thought he must have asked the wrong people, for my name was Coriander and there was no question of changing it.