Page 129 of By the Sword
‘Nonsense,’ said Kate. ‘It’s nothing to do with you, Tabitha. My dear, he was in prison because he fought for the King, not because he took you away.’
Tabitha looked up at Kate and fresh tears welled in her hazel eyes. ‘Dame Judith said I was wicked and God would punish me for my father’s sins.’
Kate’s lips tightened. If Dame Judith had finally departed this earth, Kate sincerely hoped that she was rotting in hell.
‘Tabitha,’ she smoothed the child’s hair, ‘you’re not wicked and God forgives. He does not punish.’
Tabitha looked at her unblinkingly, as if weighing up the truth of what Kate said. There was so much of Jonathan in her expression that Kate almost wept.
‘Would God listen if I prayed hard?’ the child whispered.
Relieved, Kate replied, ‘Of course, he will, my dear. Come, we’ll both pray.’
Tabitha swallowed the last of her sobs and clapped her hands together. She closed her eyes, her lips moving in silent, fervent prayer.
Kate found the words and in them the comfort she needed for herself.
At her Amen, Tabitha gave a last, shuddering sigh and opened her eyes.
‘Will you look after him?’ she asked.
Kate nodded. ‘And when he is well, we’ll all go to Seven Ways and you can meet your cousins.’
Tabitha nodded, forlornly sniffing.
‘Tom can teach you to ride a horse. And your Aunt Nell will have a new baby soon. So much to look forward to. Now climb into bed and go to sleep and we’ll see how your father is in the morning.’
Kate fetched the warm bricks from the fireplace, wrapped them in flannel and tucked them into the bed. Tabitha crawled underneath the sheets, and Kate tucked her in. Tabitha’s pale, disembodied face looked at her from the pillow.
‘Please don’t go,’ she pleaded.
Kate thought of Jonathan, who needed her and looked down at his daughter, who at this moment needed her more.
‘I won’t go,’ she said. ‘Close your eyes and I will tell you a story.’
She sat with the child until she slept before making her way to the chamber where Henrietta had put Jonathan.
The flickering light of the candles and the fire barely illuminated the dark, panelled room. Kate stood beside the large, carved oak bed and looked down at the almost unrecognisable face of her lover, propped high on the bolsters. If it had not been for the agonised breathing, Jonathan could have been dead.
Henrietta and Ellen had done a masterly job in cleaning him up. The beard had gone and they’d cropped his hair short, giving his gaunt face the look of a carved stone saint. Even after he had been shot in York, he had never looked like this. The months of incarceration and deprivation had robbed him of all his light and strength.
She sat down beside him and picked up his hand, cold fear clawing at her. The sleeve of his nightshirt fell back, revealing a neat, white bandage around his wrist. Kate looked up questioningly at Henrietta, who stood on the other side of the bed.
‘Nathaniel told me that he had been manacled,’ Henrietta said softly, barely keeping the disgust out of her voice.
‘For all that time?’ Kate asked.
Henrietta nodded.
Kate leaned over him and whispered his name. His eyes opened and recognition flickered like a candle in the dulled depths. The corners of his mouth curled in a smile and he tried to speak but the effort started the coughing. Kate held him, feeling his body, once so hard, now wasted and frail beneath the nightshirt. She laid him back on the pillows and tried to summon a reassuring smile.
‘Where…have you been?’ he whispered at last. Every word seemed to be a physical effort.
‘Seeing to your daughter. She seems to think this is God’s punishment for your past sins.’
‘Perhaps it is,’ Jonathan muttered. A crooked smile flitted across his face. ‘Ellen’s already started pouring her potions…down me. I think…I think she’s the only person I know who can make death seem like a pleasant alternative.’
‘Would you rather I sent for the doctors?’ Henrietta interposed. ‘Perhaps he should be bled?’ The last remark was addressed in a low voice to Ellen, who had entered the room carrying a tray covered with a cloth.
