Page 5 of By the Sword
The old, familiar pain clutched at her heart. It had been a great victory, the wounded had told her as they had trickled into the village after the battle at Marston Moor. Prince Rupert had been routed, the forces of the Parliament triumphant. Kate cared nothing for Parliament or victory. The broken man beneath her hands commanded all her attention that night.
‘He died of the wounds he received at Marston Moor,’ she said. ‘His father brought him home after the battle. He took two days to die.’
Richard’s grandfather shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, my dear,’ he said. ‘The war has dealt ill with us all. Nell and her little Ann, you and Thomas are all that remains of this family and I am nearing the end of my allotted time on this earth. It is long past time to put away the differences born only of a stubborn man and his equally stubborn daughter.’ He shook his head. ‘Such a petty feud to cause all these years of division, and I regret every day that has passed. I hope, Mistress Ashley, and you Thomas, thatyour coming here is the start of a new chapter in the life of this family.’
Chapter 3
Seven Ways, June 1650
Despite the warmth of the sunny day, Kate found Sir Francis sitting in a chair by the window of his bedchamber overlooking the garden with a blanket over his shoulders and another around his knees. A book lay open but face down on the table beside him.
He looked up as she entered the room. ‘I’ve been watching you, Kate. Your labours in the garden are to be commended.’
Kate self-consciously pushed back the loose strands of hair that strayed from beneath her cap and cursed the freckles that had appeared around her nose at the first touch of sun. She must look like a common kitchen maid, not the proper wife for this man’s grandson.
‘I’ve been tending the roses. Despite the lack of pruning, they promise a fine show. I thought you might like some to cheer the day.’
She shifted the book and placed the bowl of roses she carried on the small table at his elbow. The rich smell momentarily lifted the fug of the sickroom, and the long fingers of Sir Francis’ righthand reached out to touch the blooms with a reverence that surprised her. For the first time, she noticed a heavy, gold signet ring loosely circling his skeletal index finger.
‘I fear the garden is something of a lost cause,’ he said.
Kate agreed but she disliked being idle. She had made the remains of the once fine, sunken rose garden her focus. Since her arrival, she had spent the afternoons clearing the beds of weeds and pruning back the wilder branches. The roses, responding quickly to the attention, bloomed prolifically in the warmth of early summer.
‘Working in a garden is one of my pleasures in life,’ she said
Sir Francis nodded. ‘There is no room on this earth for idle people. As for the garden, it was one of the finest gardens in the county before several troops of Parliament horse trampled it in ’45 looking for my scapegrace grandson. They cut down most of the orchard too.’ His thin lips compressed. ‘Since then I’ve had not the time or the money to rectify the damage.’ He looked at her and nodded. ‘It pleases me that there is someone to care for it again.’
Kate touched the soft petals of the roses. ‘I have these same roses in my garden.’ Looking up, she sought the old man’s eyes, holding his gaze. ‘Richard told me his mother had planted them from stock she brought from Seven Ways. Every year David would place the first blooms on her grave.’ She hesitated before adding, ‘I made sure that I remembered to do the same this year.’
The old man looked away. ‘Bess would have only lived to see them bloom once. It is kind of you to remember.’
Kate took a breath. ‘You must know, Sir Francis. David Ashley loved your daughter. He never stopped loving her,’ she said, the words coming out in a rush.
He returned his gaze to her and nodded. ‘Thank you, my dear. I know that. I have always known but it pleases me to hear it.’His thin shoulders straightened. ‘Nell tells me that you plan on returning to Yorkshire shortly. Is that true?’
‘In a few days,’ she said. ‘I have my own responsibilities I must return to.’
The door opened and Nell entered without knocking, holding a paper in her hand.
‘Oh. Kate.’ A flash of colour rose to her cheeks as she concealed the paper she carried in the folds of her skirt. ‘I didn’t expect you to be here.’
‘Nell,’ her grandfather greeted her. ‘We were just discussing Kate’s imminent departure. I was just going to say that I will miss the boy. I have enjoyed our chats.’ His lips twisted in a rueful smile. ‘I do believe he’s not scared of me. Have I lost the power to intimidate, do you think?’
Nell smiled. ‘Grandfather, St Peter himself will not dare refuse you entrance to heaven.’ She looked at Kate. ‘I have some business with my grandfather, Kate. Would you excuse us?’
Sir Francis smiled at Kate and gestured to the window. ‘I suggest you return to your Herculean task in the rose garden while the weather stays fine.’
Kate smiled and with a brisk curtsy swept out of the room to return to the garden.
Nell joined her later, spreading a blanket beneath an oak tree where she sat and worked on her needlework while little Ann pottered after Kate, picking daisies in the overgrown lawn. As the afternoon wore on, Kate abandoned her task, dropping down on the blanket beside the younger woman. She wiped her face on her sleeve and surveyed the overgrown garden. Her poor efforts were a mere drop in a pond compared to the work the garden required, but it satisfied her needs both to be busy and to create some order from chaos.
Nell laid down her embroidery hoop and picked up the flowers her daughter had brought her, weaving them into a chain. She placed the chain of flowers like a crown upon Ann’s golden curls.
‘Look, Mama. I’m a queen,’ Ann declared and turned around on her toes, letting her skirts billow out.
‘And a lovely queen too,’ Nell agreed.
‘I’m going to show Tommy.’
