Reckless Angel (27 page)

He took her hand and gently pressed his lips into the palm. “I was unwontedly harsh, elf, and I ask your pardon. But I was cut to the quick. Let us put it behind us, now.”

“I do not care for this place any longer,” she declared. “'Tis hot and devious, and nothing goes aright. I would go back to The Hague and the girls, and bear you a child.”

Daniel laughed softly. “Such wishes are not beyond the granting. But do not be in too much of a hurry for
the latter.” He touched her lips with a long finger. “Were you greatly disappointed when the flowers came?”

“I thought you had forgotten.”

He shook his head. “Nay, love, I had not forgotten your impulsiveness in the garden. But let us wait now until we return home.” A shadow crossed his face. “Home? God knows, but I would have you brought to bed at Glebe Park, as is right and proper. Will this damned war never be done so that Englishmen may go home and tend their lands and look to their families again? 'Tis been all of ten years since England was truly at peace.”

“You will fight again?” A chill arrowed through her, as she suddenly confronted what that would mean. Somehow, she had not thought of the inevitable conclusion of Daniel's open support of Charles II…Had not permitted herself to think of it, she realized. He would face the battlefield again.

In confirmation, he said gently, “You know that I must. I am committed to my king's cause. There must be one last attempt.”

“And if King Philip will not lend his aid?”

“Then we must do without it.”

I do not think I could bear your death, she thought bleakly, but she kept the thought to herself, turning toward the door. “D'ye wish to break your fast before going to the palace?”

“Just bread and meat and ale,” he replied, following her change of subject because he knew he could offer no comfort on the other that would not be a lie.

“I will fetch it for you.” She went down to the kitchen, wondering what had happened to the maid who had herself plunged headlong into the Battle of Preston not that long ago, quite fearless, all unthinking of what the realities of battle were, seeing only adventure and excitement. Now, such a prospect filled her with the greatest dread, not for herself, since such battlegrounds were no longer in her destiny, but for those she loved. There would be Will, also, fighting for his
king. And what of Julia? Had that spark between them ignited? Would Julia also begin to live in fear for the man she loved?

With grim determination, Harry dismissed the gloom that had abruptly arisen. She had too many blessings to count to sully her newly returned peace with the anticipation of pain.

That night, the big bed was no longer the chill, lonely wasteland of the past nights. The warmth and security of Daniel's body enveloped her as she cuddled against him in the tight circle of his arms. Curiously, after such an absence, it was not the rough-and-tumble of lust she craved, the glorious wanderings in passion's garden, but just the feel of him once more holding her, the familiarity of his body and the sound of his breathing. Apprehension, speculation, and wretched memory drifted from her as she drew strength and renewed vigor from the haven of his presence, reacquainting herself with the touch and scent of his skin, the hairiness of the legs curled with hers and of the chest beneath her cheek, the ridged muscles of thigh and abdomen beneath her hand. She smiled contentedly to herself in the warm darkness as he slept and she could enjoy him in secret, reveling in her private pleasure.

A week later they left Madrid, taking an evasive answer from the Spanish king back to The Hague.

“'T
is time Elizabeth was abed, Master Osbert.” Mistress Kierston appeared, starched and purposeful, in the doorway of the parlor. “Nan has been in her bed these twenty minutes.”

Lizzie opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. Her governess had the look of one who might respond unpleasantly to protest. The child gazed in appeal at Will, whose intercession might have better success, but he did not seem to notice. In fact, she reflected in some annoyance, he was monstrous distracted this evening, and somehow had not even appeared amused by her valiant efforts to entertain him during the last hour. She was quite unaccustomed to such failures and now, with a pout of pique, slid off the window seat.

“I give ye good night, Master Osbert.” A punctilious curtsy accompanied the valediction.

Will blinked in surprise at this extraordinary formality from one who was more likely to hand out kisses than curtsies. “What's amiss, Lizzie?”

“I have to go to bed,” she said.

“That is hardly unusual.” He could not help smiling at the disconsolate face. “But why do I think I have offended ye in some way?”

Mistress Kierston sniffed audibly and smoothed down her apron with brisk pats, indicating her impatience at this further delay.

The sound of carriage wheels rattling on the cobbles outside drifted in through the parlor window, standing
open to the mild September evening. Lizzie, inquisitive as ever, turned at the sound, then ran to the window. “Oh, 'tis Daddy and Harry, they are come back,” she squealed, jumping excitedly onto the window seat. “Daddy…Daddy!”

Daniel had just stepped from the coach. He turned, beaming with delight. “Lizzie…Lizzie!” he imitated, striding to the open window. Catching her around the waist, he lifted her through, hugging her tightly before kissing her and setting her on her feet. She ran immediately to Harry, who felt the most amazing joy sweep her at this loving welcome, at the child's trusting expectation that that love would be returned.

“Where's Nan?” Laughing, her father interrupted Lizzie's hugging, kissing, and unchecked prattle.

“She's abed, already—”

“No, I am not!” The excited shriek came from an upstairs casement from which Nan was leaning perilously, her hair tumbling loose from her nightcap, her hands waving frantically.

Daniel looked up. “Careful! I am coming inside.” He ran to the open front door, where Will stood, waiting to greet them. Henrietta followed, holding Lizzie's hand. Nan scrambled down the stairs, tripping over her smock in her haste, to jump from halfway down into Daniel's waiting arms.

“I was nearly asleep,” she burbled. “If ye'd come in five minutes I would have been, 'n then you'd have had to waken me!”

“Oh, I wouldn't do that,” Daniel teased, smoothing back the thick brown hair, burying his lips against the smooth, warm, roundness of her cheek. “I'd have waited 'till morning.”

“You would not!” Then she saw Henrietta and wriggled impatiently. “There's Harry!”

Daniel put her down, watching the ecstatic reunion with an inner smile of contentment. He turned, hand outstretched, to Will, who was discreetly standing aside. “Will, how are ye?”

“Well enough, Sir Daniel. 'Tis good to see you back
and safe.” Will moved out of the shadows to take the hand. “The children have missed you both.”

“Aye, as we have missed them,” Daniel replied. “Five months is a long time.”

“Oh, Will, there you are.” Henrietta freed herself from the girls and came swiftly toward him. “'Tis so good to see you again.” The embrace they shared was the most natural expression of loving friendship, and Daniel found to his dismay that it caused him a slight pang, which was manifestly absurd since they were like brother and sister. Except that they were not. He remembered them with their squabbles and teasing on the journey from Preston. They had been little more than children then, and confused children at that. But they were both very different now. Will carried himself with the confidence of manhood, and Henrietta…you only had to look at her to see the beauty and poise of awakened womanhood.

Mistress Kierston was standing in the parlor door, patiently awaiting acknowledgment. Daniel dragged his eyes away from his wife embracing her dearest friend and returned to duty.

The children were finally put to bed, and Will and the returned travelers sat down to supper. “How wonderful it is to be back.” Henrietta looked around the dark paneled dining room with a sigh of satisfaction. “You cannot imagine how hot it is in Spain, Will. 'Tis like Hades.” She helped herself to eel pie and passed the dish across the table.

“But was it exciting?” Will asked, taking a small spoonful.

Henrietta did not immediately answer. “Why d'ye take such a tiny portion, Will? You love eels.”

He shook his head. “I do not seem very hungry. But was it exciting?”

Henrietta glanced ruefully at Daniel. “Sometimes, but mostly it was very tedious and uncomfortable, and matters were always going awry. Were they not, Daniel?”

“Often enough,” he agreed with a chuckle, refilling
Will's wineglass. “But what's past is past. Tell us, Will, of what has been happening here.”

Will shrugged. “Ye've heard of the defeat of the Scots army at Dunbar, I imagine.”

“Nay, we have not.” Daniel's fork clattered onto his plate. “When was this?”

“At the beginning of the month,” Will replied in distracted tones. “'Twas a rout, the Scots army decimated, and all for about thirty English lives.”

It was-far too momentous a piece of news to warrant such a listless tone. Harry stared at him, noticing for the first time the tension in his eyes, the drawn line of his mouth, his general air of dejection. Somehow, she was convinced such obvious despondency was not due to the political situation. “Whatever is troubling you, Will?”

He started, flushed. “Nothing at all. Why should you imagine there should be?”

A few months ago, Henrietta would have badgered him for the truth without pause for thought. Now, it occurred to her that he might find Daniel's presence inhibiting if he was going to unburden himself to his closest friend. He did not know Daniel as well as she did, after all, and still treated him with the deference he had shown when they were journeying under his protection. No, she would wait and have it out of him once they were alone.

“What of the king?” Daniel asked. “D'ye know how this news has affected his plans?” He took a pear from the fruit bowl and began to peel it carefully.

Will frowned. “'Tis said he makes plans to journey to Scotland himself. He goes to encourage the Scots with his presence to reform and rise again against Cromwell. If he succeeds, then a Royalist force will land in England.”

“And if he does not…” Daniel mused, quartering the pear and laying it on Henrietta's platter. “If they will not, then the Royalist force must try its strength, anyway.”

“But surely that would be foolish,” Henrietta said,
nibbling with suddenly diminished appetite on the fruit. “If the Scots army failed to defeat Cromwell, then a Royalist force, much smaller and ill-equipped, will have even less chance alone.”

Daniel shook his head wearily. “Perchance that is so, but we must attempt it one more time.”

Henrietta shivered, demanding with sudden passion, “Why must we? Why must ye all risk your lives again, when you know the cause is lost?”

The two men looked at her in silence for a minute, then Daniel said evenly, “You know why, Harry. 'Tis a matter of honor and principle, and we must fight for both.”

“And you will lose, and probably be killed, or sore wounded, and 'twill all be for nothing,” she said fiercely. “And the land will be filled with the widows and orphans of honor and principle.”

“Lord, Harry, you talk like a woman,” Will said in amazement. “I never thought to hear you say such things.”

“I
am
a woman,” she declared. “Not a silly child with my head full of adventure.”

Daniel smiled. “Aye,” he said. “So you are, my elf…so you are…sometimes.”

Will looked between them and decided abruptly that he was de trop. “If ye'll excuse me, I've a card game planned with some friends.” He stood up, then said awkwardly, “I'll find myself alternative lodgings on the morrow, if that will be all right.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Harry exclaimed. “You'll do no such thing. Will he, Daniel?”

“I think that's a matter for Will to decide,” Daniel said quietly. “He is welcome to stay, but he may prefer to set up his own establishment.”

“Oh.” Henrietta chewed her lip. “You mean he might have friends he would wish to invite.” Her eyes suddenly danced mischievously, chasing away the intensity of the last few minutes. “Or loose women, mayhap. Is that it, Will?”

To her surprise, Will flushed crimson. “That is not
amusing, Henrietta. 'Tis in bad taste. I would have thought ye'd have learned better by now. I'll bid ye both good-night.”

The door closed on him and Henrietta swallowed uncomfortably, her own cheeks pink. “Why did that upset him?”

“Well, it was not a very proper thing to say.”

“Oh, pah! I am never proper with Will.”

“Perhaps 'tis time you became so,” Daniel said. “Y'are no longer children together, Harry, and Will has his dignity.”

She lay in bed later, considering that. Somehow, she did not think it was a question of offended dignity. Will was not himself, and it clearly behooved her to find the cause.

With this worthy aim in mind, she descended to the dining room the following morning and greeted Will cheerfully, as if the previous evening's unpleasantness had not occurred. He returned the greeting a little sheepishly, then said, “I ask your pardon, Harry, for being so sharp last night.”

“Oh, 'twas nothing.” She bent over him as he sat at the breakfast table and kissed his nose. “Daniel said I offended your dignity, and I am very sorry if I did.”

Will laughed, circling her waist with one arm and giving her a quick squeeze. “Nay, you could never do that. I do not have any where y'are concerned, anyway.”

“There,” she said triumphantly to Daniel. “I told ye so…Oh, is something amiss? You look very stern.”

Daniel, who had been watching the little play over his platter of sirloin, realized he was frowning. He shook his head briskly. “No, nothing amiss, but do not talk of loose women around the girls, will you? Lizzie will inevitably demand a complete explanation of the term.”

“Of course I will not. Anyway, where are they?”

“Gone to church with Mistress Kierston,” Will told her. “Under protest, I might add. The lady has become so devout these past months she attends evening ser
vice every day, and often enough morning as well, and perforce they must accompany her.”

“Oh, how drear,” Henrietta exclaimed, buttering a slice of wheaten bread. “Could they not go every other day, Daniel? They may spend the time studying the guitar with me, or some such.”

“If you think it will be better for them,” Daniel said amicably, draining his mug of ale and pushing back his chair.

“Perhaps not better,” said Henrietta with scrupulous honesty, “but certainly more amusing.”

Daniel laughed. “I have complete faith in your judgments in such matters, Harry. Decide what you will, and tell Mistress Kierston.”

Harry wrinkled her nose at this latter prospect, but made no demur, accepting the task as her own. “Where do you go?”

“To court. I must seek audience with the king and make my report. I would also discover what plans are being made.”

“Aye.” She raised her face for his kiss. “But you will return for dinner?”

“I trust so.”

“I may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb,” Henrietta declared as the door closed on her husband. “If I must face Mistress Kierston's frozen-faced disapproval, then I shall tell her that the girls need only attend church on Sundays, when we all go.”

“For which you will earn their undying gratitude,” Will observed, but his grin lacked its customary sparkle.

She propped her elbows on the table, resting her chin on her clasped hands, and regarded him gravely. “What troubles ye, Will?”

A deep sigh was his initial response, but she kept silent, waiting. “I am in love,” he got out finally, flushing crimson with embarrassment at such a confession.

“With Julie? I knew it would be so!” She jumped up and ran around the table to hug him.

“How could you know?” He struggled free from her embrace, still blushing.

“Oh, 'twas obvious from the first moment…the spark between you,” she replied. “That was why I suggested you stay in the house while we were away. I knew Julie would come to see the children sometimes, and you would have excuse…” She shrugged. “Anyway, it worked.”

Will shook his head. “Nay, it did not, Harry.”

She looked astonished. “Is Julie not in love with you, then?”

Will dropped his head in his hands. “She loves me as I love her, but her parents have forbidden it.”

“Why ever should they do so?” Indignation laced her voice.

“They do not think a mere esquire's son good enough,” Will said wretchedly.

“And just who do they think
they
are?” Harry demanded, outraged at this arrogance. “Impoverished, exiled petty nobility! Oh, 'tis ridiculous!” She paced the dining room. “Have ye talked with them?”

“Of course. I did everything in the correct manner, asked Lord Morris for Julie's hand, told him of my estate, my expectations, my lineage…My family is as old as theirs,” he added with a sudden resurgence of vigor. “But not only did he refuse me, he has forbidden us ever to meet. Julie is not permitted to write to me, or to go out without her mother, and then only to certain very specific places.”