Page 120 of By the Sword
He had not taken well to the plan and even Kate had to admit that things had come to a pretty pass when Giles Longley, the most debonair of cavaliers, had to escape England dressed in petticoats.
Happily, their journey had been uneventful, marred only by one unfortunate incident when a drunken tapster had taken a fancy to the strapping ‘Gillian’. He had been rewarded by a hefty right hook and was probably still nursing a broken jaw.
Now at Barton, with his knee healed and disguised, with more dignity, as William’s servant, the time had come for Giles to leave. William had agreed to take him to Hull and put him aboard a ship of wool bound for the continent, posing as William’s agent to the merchants in Amsterdam.
Kate stood beside her sister at the window overlooking the courtyard where Giles and Nell were engaged in a long and passionate farewell.
‘Is he faithful to his wife?’ Suzanne asked suddenly.
‘Not for a moment,’ Kate replied. ‘He’ll be seeking out company as soon as he arrives at The Hague, I wager.’
‘I know a rogue when I see one,’ Suzanne said. ‘Poor Eleanor.’
‘I think Nell understands,’ Kate said. ‘I do not doubt that Giles loves her but she told me once that Giles was a man who loved women and Jonathan was a man whom women loved.’
Her sister gave her a quick sideways glance. ‘And Jonathan. Is he safe?’
Kate’s lips tightened. ‘I’ve heard nothing. It’s nearly six weeks since he left and I had expected some word by now.’ She forced herself to smile. ‘But he’s no letter writer. I can only assume that no news is good news and he is safe on the continent. Giles has promised to send word as soon as he arrives in Amsterdam.’
Suzanne straightened her aching back as she turned away from the window. Kate caught the grimace on her sister’s face.
‘Is it close?’ she asked
Suzanne nodded. ‘Tonight perhaps,’ she said as she lowered herself into her chair beside the cheerful fire that burned in the hearth.
Kate glanced out of the window. Giles had mounted the sturdy little horse, William provided and Nell was waving her husband off while dabbing decorously at her eyes with a lace-edged kerchief. By contrast to Suzanne, Nell’s slender figure still betrayed no sign of the child she carried.
By next summer Nell would have a baby to hold and ease the pain of her separation from Giles. Kate had nothing of Jonathan except memories of snatched moments of intimacy. Even the ring he had given her had disappeared on the night it had betrayed her.
For no logical reason, she envied her friend. Her disappointment at finding she was not with child after Jonathan’s departure had taken her completely by surprise. She surely had not wanted to explain a bastard child to the curious world?
‘What are you thinking?’ Suzanne’s voice startled her out of her strange reverie.
Kate joined her sister beside the fire. ‘It’s strange, Suzanne, but you and Nell are both with child and I feel…’ she sighed, ‘…I feel lonely. I long to hold a baby in my arms again, to share that joy of new life.’
‘You’re being sentimental, Kate.’ Ever pragmatic, Suzanne shifted uncomfortably in her chair. ‘You’re welcome to this ponderous belly and the pain of childbirth. I’ve told William that this is it. No more children for me.’ Suzanne winced and tightened her lips.
‘Shall I send for the midwife?’
Suzanne shook her head. ‘It will be some hours yet.’ She smiled at her sister and held out her hand. ‘If it’s a girl I shall call her Katherine,’ she said.
Suzanne reached out and took Kate’s hand. ‘You don’t belong here anymore,’ she said.
Kate looked up. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ve been watching you since you returned and you have a restlessness about you. Seven Ways holds your heart now, Kate.’
Kate squeezed her sister’s fingers, the tears pricking the back of her eyes. Suzanne, who knew her so well, was right. Seven Ways did hold her heart.
Seven Ways meant Jonathan and as soon as the roads allowed she would return and begin to build a life that would, she hoped, one day include Jonathan Thornton. If only she had word from him…
She rose to her feet and walked over to the window, looking out over the now deserted courtyard. A chill ran down her spine and she shivered.
Where are you, Jonathan?
Chapter 43
London March, 1652
