Page 139 of The King's Man
The door of the coach opened.
‘Goodbye, Lovell,’ Thurloe said as his coachman hauled Kit bodily out of the coach and deposited him on the doorstep of The Ship Inn.
The coachman banged on the door and left Kit slumped against the doorjamb. By the time Kit heard footsteps on the flags of the taproom, Thurloe’s coach had gone.
‘We’re closed.’ Jem’s voice boomed gruffly from behind the door.
Kit rested his face against the door and raised his hand to the wood, his feeble efforts making no more impression than the scratching of a mouse. He heard the bolt being drawn backand the door flung open. Kit got a brief impression of Jem’s surprised face before falling forward into his arms.
There were voices in the dark, this time familiar voices.
Nan Marsh’s said, ‘What sort of ’orrible joke is this?’
‘’Tis no joke,’ her brother replied. ‘’Tis Kit Lovell all right, and I can tell you this, girls, he ain’t dead. Fetch me some of the brandy.’
Slowly, Kit opened his eyes and coughed. He heard a squeak of alarm and turned his throbbing head to find himself looking into the anxious face of May Marsh.
She touched his face. Just the gentlest touch, but every nerve in his body cried out in pain.
‘You’re really alive! I can’t believe it.’
Her face looked red and blotchy from crying. He reached out a hand to touch her face and she grasped his fingers, pressing his hand to her wet cheek.
‘Don’t cry, May,’ he said, or at least he thought the words came out, but she didn’t seem to hear.
Jem Marsh’s less appealing visage hove into view.
‘Don’t even try and talk, Lovell. I’ve seen this afore and it will be a while until you’ve a voice of your own.’ Jem’s arm slipped beneath his head and a cup of brandy was put to his lips. Kit let a little of the burning liquid slide down his throat. He gagged and coughed but life began to creep back into his fingers and toes.
May gave a choking sob and tightened her grip on his fingers. ‘They told us you was dead and buried. They even brought a letter for Mistress Thamsine … ’
A strangled groan emanated from Kit’s throat. He had written her a letter. Thamsine would think he was dead.
He propped himself up on an elbow and scanned the faces in the room: Jem, May and Nan. No Thamsine.
‘She’s not here. She’s with her sister at Turnham Green.’ Jem answered the question in Kit’s eyes. ‘I’ll send May’s Tom in the morning to fetch her.’
‘Proper cut up she was when I told her … ’ Nan put in.
Thamsine wasn’t here. She thought he was dead. Kit fell back and closed his eyes against this new pain. He wanted to hold her, to reassure himself that he had survived and they could be together.
Jem brought the candle lower and turned Kit’s head, inspecting his neck.
‘Another minute on the gallows and you’d’ve been done for,’ he said.
Kit managed a nod of affirmation. Had this been the only way Thurloe could find to save his life or another of his cruel tricks?
The memory of what he had thought to be his last moments on Earth forced their way into his aching mind with absolute clarity and he put a shaking hand to his eyes. Thurloe’s legacy would be a nightmare that would probably haunt him for the rest of his days.
Jem put an arm around his shoulders and raised him to his feet.
‘Come on, lad. Let’s get you into a bed. We’ll hear the story when you’re able to tell it.’
***
Chapter 49
Thamsine leaned out of the coach window as they rounded the bend in the driveway that gave the first view of Hartley Court. It seemed a lifetime since she had fled its solid red brick walls, leaving Ambrose Morton lying in a pool of blood on the parlour floor.
