Page 131 of By the Sword
‘My dearest…dearest, Kate. I will never willingly leave you again. You have my word on that.’
‘Willingly? Is that a promise you can keep? Surely that is for those Fates, spinning out our lives in Whitehall to decide.’
His lips tightened and he nodded. ‘You’re right, Kate. It’s…it’s not a promise I can keep.’ He glanced at the open door. The music had stopped and the house was silent once more. ‘I would like to see Tabitha.’
She brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. Even wasted and gaunt, sallow with spent fever, he still presented a considerably less fearsome aspect than he had on the night Nathaniel had brought him home.
She smiled and bent over to kiss him.
‘I’ll fetch her. I know she is anxious to see you.’
She found Tabitha kneeling on the window seat in the parlour, looking out at the driving rain.
‘Your father liked your music,’ Kate said.
The girl spun around to face Kate. ‘Did he?’
Kate held out her hand. ‘He wants to see you. Come with me.’
Tabitha took Kate’s hand, holding it tightly as they approached the door to the sick room. As Kate put her hand to the door catch, the child hung back. Kate squeezed her hand reassuringly.
‘It will be all right, Tabitha. He’s been very ill but he’s getting better.’
Jonathan turned his head towards the door as they entered. ‘Tabitha.’ He smiled and held out his hand.
With a strangled cry, Tabitha leapt onto the bed and buried her face in his bad shoulder. He winced but did not attemptto dislodge her. Instead, his arms tightened around the child, holding her as she wept.
Kate turned and slipped from the room. There was no place for her at this moment.
Chapter 47
Jonathan had the peculiar feeling of being watched. He opened his eyes and almost jumped in alarm.
Three small faces regarded him solemnly from the foot of the bed. He pulled himself up against the bolster and ran his gaze down the line that comprised, in order of height and age, Thomas Ashley, Tabitha Thornton and Ann Longley.
‘You look terrible,’ Tom said.
Jonathan ran a rueful hand over his unshaven chin and up through the closely cropped hair.
‘I’m certain I do,’ he said, surprised at how weak his voice still sounded to his ears after three long weeks. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Nan and I came with Aunt Nell,’ Tom said, ‘but they,’ he indicated the door, ‘wouldn’t tell us anything so we thought we’d see you for ourselves.’
‘Are you going to be all right, Uncle Jon?’ Ann asked.
Jonathan forced a smile. ‘I believe so,’ he said.
‘I picked these for you.’ Ann held up a small bunch of wilting spring flowers, no doubt picked from Henrietta’s garden.
‘Why did you let them catch you?’ Tom’s eyes were bright and his tone held a note of accusation as if it had been Jonathan’s choice to fall into John Thurloe’s hands.
‘Some fool mistook me for the King and there were too many of them,’ Jonathan said.
‘The King?’ Tom scoffed. ‘You don’t look anything like the King.’
‘How do you know what the King looks like?’ Tabitha demanded.
‘I met him.’ Thomas straightened and the two girls stared up at him with new respect.
