Page 15 of By the Sword
He flinched at the formality of her address but it was needed…for the moment.
He looked up at the soft pinks and greys of the gloaming and remembered how he had craved to be under an English sky once more.
‘I have no great desire to leave this perfect evening. Unless you are anxious for your bed, would you do me the honour of walking with me a while?’ he said, with what he hoped was an ingratiating smile.
They stood looking at each other for a long moment and indecision flashed across her face. She glanced up at the houseand then back at him, no doubt considering the propriety of taking a stroll in a garden with a strange man.
‘It would be churlish of me to refuse,’ Kate replied with a smile, accepting the hand he held out to her.
As he helped her down the steps, he thought that she did not have the hands of a gentlewoman like Nell, used only to fine needlework. She still had the trace of dirt beneath her nails from her afternoon in the garden and strength in her grip. They were hands used to hard work.
They stepped out onto an overgrown pathway and Jonathan crooked his elbow. ‘Will you take my arm?’ he enquired.
Once again she hesitated and he looked down at her with an encouraging smile, finding her reticence refreshing. Most women of his acquaintance seemed only too pleased to be invited to a greater degree of intimacy, but to her, he was the enemy, a man whose very presence brought her closer to danger than any army.
The indecision in her face turned to resolution and she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and they stepped out into the wild garden where the smell of the roses lingered on the soft evening air.
‘Sir Francis told me the garden was ruined by Parliament horse,’ Kate said, breaking the silence that strung between them.
‘I suppose he told you that they were looking for me?’ Jonathan said.
‘He mentioned something about his scapegrace grandson,’ Kate conceded.
Jonathan flinched. So often he had heard his father and grandfather describe him as the ‘scapegrace’ who bore the responsibility for all the trials that had befallen his family. ‘They were disappointed, but they took their revenge on the house and the garden, as you can see. I am afraid you will have yourwork cut out trying to restore some order to this jungle. I hadn’t realised how bad the damage and neglect has been,’ he said.
‘Alas, it is a task for someone other than I, Sir Jonathan. Tom and I are leaving on Friday.’
That was news. Despite her quiet demeanour, her presence and that of the boy had brought life and light to the house that it had not seen in many years.
‘So soon? Nell will miss you.’
‘And I will miss her but I have responsibilities at home that cannot wait any longer.’
They had reached the remains of a once intricate knot garden that had been his mother’s pride and joy. Jonathan guided her to a lichened stone bench against a rose-bowered wall, dusted off the bench as best he could and indicated they should sit.
He stretched out his legs and looked up at the house. ‘Home’ had been nearly ten years of filthy inns on a good night or hedge rows on a bad night, and every time he saw Seven Ways he knew that this was where he wanted to be. Small wonder he stayed away when returning could be so painful.
‘Tell me about your home,’ he asked, curious to know more about this woman and to delay the difficult conversation to come. ‘From memory, it’s somewhere near York, isn’t it?’
‘Barton Manor, a few hours’ ride west of York. My sister and her husband, William, live at Barton Hall, which is much grander than the Manor.’ She smiled. ‘My brother-in-law made a good fortune in the wool trade during the war years.’
‘All those woollen uniforms,’ he said without thinking.
Kate looked away and he regretted his remark, but it was true that the only victors in the war had been those able to turn the trouble to their advantage. No doubt this William had turned a healthy profit in selling stout woollen cloth to clothe the armies of both sides.
‘And your parents?’
‘Both dead. My father was a clothier in York and after his death, I went to live with my sister and her husband.’
‘At Barton Hall?’
‘Yes.’
‘Hmm…and the Ashleys being neighbours, I presume that is how you met my cousin Richard?’
Kate nodded, a faint colour rising in her cheeks. ‘I had a good dowry and Richard fair prospects.’ She looked up at him, holding his eyes with her clear gaze. ‘And we loved each other.’
Dear God, this bloody war, he thought.
