Page 13 of By the Sword
Nell dismissed her long-dead cousin with a wave of her hand. ‘You can’t mourn forever, Kate. I think a gown of this colour…’– she held out her blue skirts–‘…or a warm peach colour would become you very well.’
Nell seated herself on the edge of Kate’s bed and fiddled with the hem of her skirt, trying to tuck its fraying ends away out of sight while Kate cursed her recalcitrant hair that steadfastly refused to stay where it was put.
Nell abandoned her skirts and looked up. ‘I’m sorry if I misled you about Jonathan. In truth, I hadn’t expected him to turn up while you were here, not when we haven’t seen him in at least two years.’
‘So why is here?’ Kate asked.
Reflected in the mirror, Nell’s gaze slid sideways, her mouth downcast. Kate sighed. Whatever had brought Jonathan Thornton to Seven Ways was none of her business.
‘Let me do that.’ Nell rose to her feet and took the comb from Kate’s hand. ‘I think Grandfather sent for him,’ she said, twisting a handful of Kate’s hair and pinning it firmly. ‘Grandfather is dying and seems determined to put his affairs in order.’ She stuck some hairpins in her mouth and tugged at the wayward locks. ‘You must understand the terrible risk Jonathan takes in just being in England, let alone at Seven Ways.’
‘What risk?’
Nell’s hand stilled and she met her friend’s eyes in the mirror. ‘If he’s caught, Kate, they will hang him.’
‘Why? What has he done that is so much worse than others like him?’ Kate twisted on her stool to look up at Nell.
Nell shrugged. ‘He can tell you better than I.’ Her face crumpled in concern. ‘You wouldn’t betray him would you, Kate?’
‘Of course not,’ Kate said. ‘And it pains me that you should think that I would. I have told both you and your brother, I hold no candle for either King or Parliament. Whatever your brother’s business here, it is none of mine.’
Nell’s shoulders relaxed and she jabbed a pin into Kate’s hair so hard that Kate winced as it grazed her scalp.
‘Jonathan was a terrible trial when he was younger. Father sent him to London to learn the law but he wouldn’t apply himself and there were awful rows. Then the war came. He defied Father and stole one of Grandfather’s horses to join Prince Rupert. Oh and then there were the girls…’ She sighed. ‘Broken hearts everywhere. He was a complete disgrace. Mother used to despair of him.’
‘And now?’ Kate enquired stiffly.
Nell shrugged and resumed her task. ‘The war or at least something, in particular, changed him. I’ve asked Giles, but if he knows he won’t tell me. Of course, we can only imagine the things they saw.’
Or did, Kate thought. ‘I don’t have to imagine, Nell. I saw it with my own eyes when the wounded of Marston Moor came to my door, my husband among them.’
Nell’s hand stilled and the two women’s eyes met, reflected in the mirror.
‘In what way did he change?’ Kate asked.
Nell sighed. ‘He been taken prisoner towards the end of the war but he escaped and when we saw him again he had become so serious about everything. There was no more fun, no more girls. He played some very dangerous games. It was almost as if he didn’t care about the risk he ran. Almost as if–’
‘As if…?’ Kate prompted.
‘There. Much better.’ Nell worked the last pin into Kate’s hair.
Kate rose from the stool and Nell caught her hands.
‘I do hope you like him, Kate,’ she said. ‘Despite everything, he’s all that we have and we love him dearly.’
Kate smiled in response, ‘I’m sure I will like him, Nell.’ She squeezed Nell’s hands, looking her directly in the eye. ‘Please be assured, your secret is quite safe with me.’
***
The table in the Great Hall had been set for supper. Sir Francis had already taken his place in the large oak armchair by the fireplace, talking to his grandson who leaned with one arm against the chimney breast.
Jonathan looked around and smiled as the two women entered. Kate curtsied and he returned her greeting. A door slammed behind her as Tom, in a clean but crooked collar followed her in. He bowed correctly to his grandfather and the visitor.
Kate bit her lip, seeing the undisguised worship in her son’s eyes as he looked up at Jonathan Thornton. Apparently, he had been well primed by Sir Francis about the daring exploits of this new-found cousin, and the reality had been no disappointment. Brought up by his mother and grandfather, Tom must have found his Uncle William and his Rowe cousins very dull, and even his dead father seemed an unsatisfactory hero, in comparison to Sir Jonathan Thornton of Horley Bridge.
The standard of the Seven Ways cook, a moody man with a liking for his wine jar, could be variable, but for once he excelled–indeed the whole atmosphere of the house seemed to have lifted with Jonathan’s presence. Here, in the company of his family, he seemed able to relax and proved to be a wonderful raconteur.
He held them in rapt attention with a fund of stories about the court in exile for the duration of the meal. As he talked, Kate took the opportunity to study this prodigal son as closely as she dared without appearing rude.
