The Rebel Captain's Royalist Bride Page 19

  There was only one way to discover the truth. He must go to Oxford in search of the woman he loved. If Babette no longer wished to wed him, she would tell him to his face—and if she were being kept there against her will... Well, then he would bring her home with him.

  Chapter Twelve

  Babette pressed a hand to the bottom of her back, smothering a sigh. She had been sitting with her brother for most of the day and night for nearly six days. It was the only place in the house where she felt needed or wanted. Alice would hardly look at her and never spoke to her if she could avoid it. Even her daily report on John’s recovery was listened to with a distant air, as if Alice did not wish to know. She had visited her husband only a few times and would not sit with him.

  ‘You are here to nurse him,’ she said. ‘It is your duty as his sister. You have lived under our roof for too long, now you can earn your keep.’

  Babette refused to answer her. She did not know what Alice did with her days. She had demanded her jewels and John’s gold as soon as they had left James’s house under Drew Melbourne’s escort and Babette had given them to her, reserving nothing for herself—something she now regretted since she had seen her sister-in-law wearing at least three new silk gowns. She herself had only the two gowns she had brought with her and she could not afford to buy anything for herself.

  Hearing laughter from outside the house, she rose and walked over to the window to glance out. What she saw on the pavement below made her frown, for Alice was walking arm in arm with a Cavalier and she knew him for Captain Richards. As she watched, Alice glanced up and saw her, a scowl passing across her pretty face. She said something to her companion, who replied without glancing up; his reply made Alice laugh and they went into the house together. She turned away from the window, pressing a hand to her back once more and suppressing a sigh.

  ‘How long have you been here, Babs?’ John’s voice was faint but clear, and Babette felt a surge of pleasure as she looked at the bed and saw that he was watching her. ‘I have been very ill, I think?’

  ‘Very,’ Babette confirmed as she hastened to the bed, slipping her arm about him to help ease him up against the pillows. ‘Do not try to do too much just yet. You are bound to be very weak.’

  John nodded, his eyes narrowing. ‘Is Alice here—what of my son?’

  ‘Your wife and son are both here and well. Alice has been out, but I saw her come in a moment ago from the window. Shall I ask her to come to you?’

  ‘Alice hates sickrooms,’ he said. ‘I think she saw too much of them when she was a child. Her mother was very sickly for some years before she died and an aunt was similarly afflicted. Alice cannot bear the sight of blood or the stench of vomit.’

  ‘I dare say no one likes it much,’ Babette replied. ‘But I am sure she would wish to see you now that you have come to your senses.’

  ‘Are you?’ John frowned. ‘I am not so certain. We were much in love when we first met—but I think, perhaps, she has tired of me. She constantly asks when I am going to take her to court.’

  ‘Well, you may do so now that you are both in Oxford. You have nowhere else to go, John, for both the castle and Brevington are lost to you. I rescued Alice’s jewels and some gold, which she demanded from me, when I left Colby House.’

  ‘You gave the gold to Alice?’ John sighed. ‘A pity. She will spend every piece on clothes or trinkets. It was one of the reasons I left her at the castle and did not bring her here—she cannot resist shops and pretty things. I indulged her when I could, but we had little until Father’s estate became mine—and shall have even less now.’

  Babette frowned. ‘I am sorry, John. She asked for what was yours and I could not refuse her—after all, had you not recovered, whatever is left of your estate would have been hers in trust for your son.’

  ‘And she could not wait to spend it.’ John eased his shoulders. ‘I do not blame you, Sister—and I thank you for coming. You could not have wanted to leave since you are to wed Captain Colby.’

  ‘You know?’ Babette was uncertain as she met his gaze, but she could see that something had changed. ‘You do not mind?’

  ‘Yes, I mind. I should prefer that you marry a Royalist, and a lord would hardly be good enough for you, Babs—but I know your heart is set on Colby. Drew says his cousin is a decent, honest man and I understand him to be wealthy enough to give you the life you deserve. I cannot even offer you a home, though your dowry should be safe. The Earl had charge of it, though I had applied for custody, but his Majesty had not yet released it into my hands. I think there is a quantity of jewels Mother left for you and perhaps the sum of five hundred pounds in gold, placed with the Jews of London, I believe. Not a huge amount, but more than I have left to me—and it will all come to you when you marry.’

  ‘Has it all gone?’ Babette looked anxiously at him. ‘Can you save nothing? The land at Brevington is as sweet as ever, John. It is only the house that has been lost.’

  ‘I might raise a loan against my revenues there to build a house, but for a start it would be modest—not what Alice would wish or expect.’

  ‘You say I have five hundred pounds in my dowry. I would give you half...’

  ‘Nay, Sister,’ John said. ‘It is generous of you, but I shall not take your money.’

  ‘As James’s wife I shall want for nothing. I am certain he would agree to share it with you.’

  ‘No, I shall not take what is yours. If I have lost what I had—far more than you inherited—it is my fault and I must find a way to recover.’

  ‘I am glad that you no longer forbid me to marry James. He wanted to ask for your permission, but we thought you would refuse to see him.’

  ‘I might have done so before all this happened—but he took you both in and gave you shelter. Had I died Alice and my son would have had a home with you for a time. I am grateful and the least I can do is to give you my blessing.’

  Babette felt tears sting her eyes. ‘I am happier for it, John. I shall go down and tell Alice the good news.’

  ‘If she thinks it good news...’ John looked gloomy. ‘Had I died, she would have been free to wed again—perhaps someone more worthy than me.’

  Babette shook her head, but could not reassure him. What she had witnessed from her window had disturbed her, for Alice had been flirting with the Cavalier, even though she believed her husband lay close to death.

  Leaving the sickroom, she went down the stairs to the parlour. The door was ajar and she could hear voices from inside.

  ‘She forced me to go to that hateful man’s house,’ Alice was complaining. ‘Now she comes here to nurse my husband and I am supposed to feel grateful—and if she saves him, what am I to do? I do not love him and I cannot bear...’

  Babette felt the anger rise inside her. Without pausing for thought, she pushed open the door and went in, causing Alice to look startled.

  ‘Your husband is better,’ she said. ‘Should you not hasten to his bedside and speak with him?’

  Alice opened her mouth and closed it, a look of fury in her eyes. For a moment she could not speak, but when she did a stream of vicious words poured forth.

  ‘And how have you managed that, witch?’ she accused. ‘He was dying. Everyone said he would not live the week—and now you tell me he is better. What witchcraft have you used to achieve such a miracle?’

  ‘If I had used witchcraft, which I have not and could not, for I know none—you should be grateful to me. John is your husband and he loves you. You should be happy for his life.’

  ‘Damn you! You shall not tell me what to do.’ Alice rushed at her and slapped her face. ‘You are a witch and you shall pay for what you just said to me.’

  Pushing past Babette, she ran up the stairs. Instead of going into John’s room, she rushed into her own and slammed the door.

  Capt
ain Richards had the grace to look awkward. ‘Forgive me, I should leave...’

  ‘My brother is recovering and will live,’ Babette said. ‘If you were hoping Alice would soon be a widow, you are mistaken. My brother would not be pleased to know that while he lay close to death you and she... Fear not, I shall not tell him, but another might.’

  Captain Richards looked green. ‘No, no, you misjudge me, mistress. I merely played the part of a good friend, hoping to cheer her—I am to marry an heiress of some fortune in a few months. Please do not attribute feelings or intentions to me that were not of my making.’

  Babette’s mouth twisted with scorn as he left the parlour hurriedly. He had merely been flirting with Alice, using her and perhaps hoping to seduce her—if he had not already. Alice would be a fool to desert her loving husband for such a rogue.

  Babette sighed and stretched, feeling exhausted. She needed to rest after so many days of looking after her brother. His marriage problems were not hers and in the morning she would ask for her horse and return to Colby House with Jonas as her escort—and Maigret, unless she wished to remain in Lady Harvey’s employ.

  Tears stung her eyes as she went up to her little attic room and lay down fully clothed. She could not wait to return to Colby and prayed that James would have read her letter by now and understood. The sooner she was back with him, the better.

  * * *

  James had reached Oxford and looked about him, slightly ill at ease as he rode through the streets. There was no doubting this was a Royalist stronghold and if he were recognised he could be accused of coming here as a spy. The gates had been opened to allow traders and visitors to the city to enter and leave. He had been stopped by a guard and asked the reason for his visit.

  ‘I am here on a matter of personal business,’ he said. ‘I have come to fetch my fiancée and to buy a wedding gift for her.’

  ‘Who is your lady, sir?’

  ‘Mistress Babette is the sister of Lord John Harvey.’

  ‘A true friend of his Majesty—pass, friend.’

  James had wondered at how easy it was to enter the city. The questions asked had hardly been probing and only a few people were being checked and asked for papers or searched. Either the Royalists were very confident of their power here or someone was not doing his duty.

  Without Babette’s letter to assist him, James had no idea of where to find her. Oxford was a large place and it would not be easy, for he could hardly search house to house. He would have to ask if anyone knew where Lord Harvey was staying—and he had to hope that Babette had managed to help her brother, for if not there was no telling whether she was still here.

  * * *

  Babette asked John if he had any money to spare for her and he gave her ten silver shillings, apologising for not giving her more.

  ‘It is enough for my needs,’ she said. ‘I hope to leave tomorrow and I shall need some food for the journey. I thought I would go to the market and purchase cheese, bread and honey. Plain fare will suffice until I reach Colby, but I must have enough to feed Jonas and Maigret if she wishes to return with me.’

  ‘I would give you all I have, but I shall need something if I am to begin the work at Brevington. I must leave Alice here in Oxford until I can construct at least the shell of a house where she can live.’

  Babette thought that her sister-in-law would much prefer to stay in Oxford, but made no comment. John must either make his wife obey him or face the consequences.

  He had offered to escort her to Colby himself, if she would wait until he was strong enough, but Babette explained that she was in a hurry to return, and he accepted her decision.

  ‘I cannot forbid you,’ he said. ‘You are of an age to make your own future—and I wish you well.’

  Seeing that he was comfortable, Babette left the house and walked through the streets towards the market square. She must spend her few shillings wisely, because it would take her a few days to reach Colby and she might need some pence on the journey.

  She had been walking for some minutes before she began to notice the odd stares some folk were giving her. Seeing a group of three women staring at her as she crossed the street, she caught a snatch of what they were saying.

  ‘She’s a witch...I heard it from Mistress Jones...’

  Babette’s blood ran cold. So the whispers had started here. She knew where they had come from, of course. Alice had accused her of witchcraft to her face and no doubt Mistress Jones had believed her—as she had believed all the other spiteful lies Alice had told her.

  It was as well that she was to leave soon. She thought that it might not be safe for her to stay here long if terrible rumours had begun to circulate.

  Now that she had reached the market, Babette began to make her purchases. She bought a large cheese, some apples, a pot of honey and a loaf of bread. They might purchase more bread on the journey, but she could not afford to buy better food and knew that she would need to give most of the food to her servants. Her purchases made, she turned to leave and then realised that a small group had gathered and were staring at her, blocking her path.

  ‘That’s the witch...’

  ‘We don’t want her sort here...’

  ‘She should be stoned out of the town...’

  ‘Put her in the stocks first and we’ll show her what we do with her kind...’

  Babette felt the trickle of fear as they advanced on her. How could she resist? There were too many of them—and yet she could not let them just take her. Looking about her, she decided that she would try to run to her left, but even as she started to edge away they were rushing upon her. She screamed as a stout washerwoman laid rough hands on her, pulling her to the far side of the square where the stocks for punishment were set up. Another woman grabbed a handful of her hair and a third wrested her basket with the food and her purse from her grasp.

  Babette screamed again, but they had reached the stocks. She knew that they would lock her head and hands in place by means of a wooden yoke and then would throw rotten food at her. After she had been shamed enough she would be cast out of the city—unless they decided to hang her. Tears burned behind her eyes—it was so unkind to be treated thus and all because a jealous woman had named her a witch. Was she not even to have a trial?

  ‘Unhand her, you wretch...’ a strong voice cried. ‘This woman is no witch, but a good, generous lady who gives her skill to help others.’

  ‘James!’ Tears trickled down Babette’s cheeks as she saw him. For a moment she thought the women would defy him, but he took a pistol from his pocket, pointing it at the chest of the buxom harpy who had started it all. ‘Oh, James!’ Her chest was tight with emotion and she felt weak in her relief.

  ‘Lay another finger on her—any of you—and I’ll make you sorry you were born.’

  The women looked sullen and muttered threats, but fell away, withdrawing to a safe distance to watch as James took hold of Babette’s left arm, steering her away from the market. He propelled her along the street until they reached a quiet courtyard where a pleasant inn stood, then he allowed her to rest on a wooden bench.

  ‘James,’ Babette said as she sank down to the rustic seat, ‘I do not know what I should have done had you not come—how did you come here to Oxford?’

  ‘I rode in through the gates,’ he said, his expression hard as he looked down at her. ‘Why did you come here—and why were they calling you a witch? What have you done?’

  Babette was conscious of the soreness where his fingers had dug into her arm. He seemed so angry and for a moment she did not know how to answer him.

  ‘You had my letter?’

  ‘There was no letter. Mrs Brisket told you left one, but it had gone—I thought that perhaps you had left me?’

  ‘No, James,’ she said, noticing the pulse flicking at his right temple. ‘You know
that I would never do so. I had no choice but to come since your cousin told me that John was likely to die if I did not go to him—and I think he would had I not nursed him.’

  His expression did not lighten and his coldness hurt her. Why was he staring at her in such a way? ‘He is better now?’

  ‘Yes, though still too weak to get up much. He will recover, for all he needs is good food and his landlady will provide that for him.’ She met his angry gaze. ‘I was about to return. I came shopping for food for the journey—and then those women set on me...’

  ‘Why should they call you a witch?’

  ‘Alice named me so in her spite and the word must have spread.’ Babette tossed her head defiantly. ‘It is my uncle all over again. All I did was to make my brother well again—but because Alice would have preferred to be a widow, she vented her spite on me. Mistress Jones must have heard her and gossiped of it. Alice complained of me to her from the start and she believed her.’

  ‘She is an ungrateful, spiteful woman,’ James said. ‘I intended to ask your brother for his blessing—but we shall leave at once. You owe him nothing.’

  ‘John has been understanding. He gave me ten shillings for my journey and he has so little—not even the money to build his house again—but he has given me his blessing.’

  James’s eyes narrowed. ‘He has accepted our marriage?’

  ‘Yes, for he knows my mind is set. And though he does not exactly like the idea, he will not forbid me. He says he can offer me nothing but his blessing...though in time the King may be applied to for my dowry, which is with the Jews of London.’

  ‘And which his Majesty would take great pleasure in withholding because I am his enemy,’ James replied, frowning. ‘I do not care for your dowry, Babette. If you have inherited jewels belonging to your mother, I will try to get them when the war is over, but I can promise nothing.’

  ‘I do not care for them if you do not,’ she said and smiled at him, offering her hand. ‘I have trinkets to remind me of her that she gave me before she died. All I want is to live in peace with you at your home.’