Page 169 of Feathers in the Wind
“Harcourt, you say? You surprise me.” Sir John stroked his moustache. “And you daughter,” he ddressed Deliverance. “Are you determined on this course of action?”
“I am, Father.”
Sir John sat down heavily and picked up the bottle of wine. He poured a glass and took a drink.
“No.” He held up his hand at the squeak of protest that came from Deliverance. “Hear me out. I need time to think on this, daughter, and I do not take kindly to the sort of wilful disobedience you have shown me here today. Collyer…Harcourt…whatever your name is, take Farrington to London as ordered. When this accursed war is over, we will talk.”
“Very good, sir.”
Deliverance started forward but Luke caught her arm. “Deliverance, your father has spoken.”
He propelled her out of the door, shutting it firmly behind him
As Deliverance opened her mouth to protest, he laid his finger on her lips. As she glared at him, he smiled. “Trust me, Deliverance.”
Chapter 25
Luke paraded his men in the courtyard. Breast plates and helmets gleamed in the winter sunlight, faces were clean-shaven and even the faded coats looked fresh.
Under his orders, they had taken particular care to look their very best and managed to transform from the raggle-taggle band of defenders to a smart, fighting force. Charles Farrington, manacled, and looking far from his sartorial best, would ride in a covered wagon. Keeping him safe until London would be a dangerous mission and his men had orders to shoot Charles at the first sign of attack.
Luke's horse tossed its head in anticipation of being away from this terrible place where they had been confined to stables for weeks and threatened with being turned into food. Luke held the bridle and waited as Sir John Felton appeared on the stairs with Penitence and Jack beside him.
Beneath the gleaming breast plate, Luke pondered his future. He had his orders. Sir John had given him letters to deliver and he had no doubt that the one addressed to the Earl of Essex contained orders for Luke to join the Earl’s force. Despite everything Felton refused to bless any marriage between himself and Deliverance until after the war was over. It didn’t matter. He and Deliverance had made a plan.
“Collyer. Your men are well turned out,” Sir John commented.
“Thank you, sir,” Luke replied without warmth.
“Once again, I wish to thank you all for the gallant defence of this castle,” Sir John said, hypocritically, Luke thought. “Had Kinton Lacey fallen, our cause in this county would have been lost. God speed and keep you safe.”
Luke saluted and swung himself into the saddle. He doffed his hat in salute to Sir John Felton and the household and resident garrison cheered.
“God speed, Collyer,” Sir John said.
Luke nodded to Sergeant Hale and the man gave the order to the men to form into file. With their two drummers beating the march, the men wheeled, but before they had advanced a step, a voice came from the residence.
“Wait!”
Luke wheeled his horse at the sound of Deliverance's voice. She strode out of the house, one hand holding her hat on her head and the other clutching leather satchel. Luke threw back his head and laughed as his beloved Deliverance, dressed in her men's breeches and wearing a baldric and sword, paused to plant a kiss on her father's cheek.
Before the astonished man could react, Deliverance had run down the stairs and stood at Luke's stirrup. He took the satchel from her and extended his hand. She looked up into his eyes and smiled as she grasped his hand and he swung her up behind him. A resounding cheer from his soldiers and the Kinton Lacey garrison echoed around the courtyard.
“Deliverance!” Sir John had found his voice. “What do you think you're doing? You look ridiculous. Come down off that horse and behave in a more decorous manner.”
Deliverance hooked her hands into Luke's belt and her body pressed against his, warm and familiar, as if they belonged together. He twisted to look into Deliverance's eyes.
“You? Decorous?” he said.
Deliverance looked back at her father. “I'm afraid my mind is made up, Father. I am going to follow the drum. Wherever Luke goes, I do too.”
Her father raised his hand. “Deliverance, get down now.”
“Luke has his orders, Father. Farewell. I will write.”
A resounding cheer went up and Luke turned his horse back to take his place at the head of the column.
“Collyer,” Sir John Felton roared.
