Page 165 of The King's Man
‘You have a home? Where?’
‘In Hampshire,’ Thamsine said. ‘There’s only Kit and me and my two nieces. There is a comfortable dower house and ample room.’
‘You really did marry her for her money.’ Frances shot a mischievous glance at her brother.
‘Absolutely,’ Kit agreed.
‘You’re not going, Frances,’ her mother said. ‘We’re not going to live on this woman’s charity.’
Kit drew a breath and laid a hand on the table with deliberate care, though he would have dearly loved to smash his hand onto the table in frustration.
‘Margaret,’ he said slowly. ‘God knows, I want to call a truce, but you are making it very difficult. I am now the head of this family and I am not offering you charity. You are my responsibility and I am offering you a home, nothing more. If Frances wishes to come to Hartley, she may. In fact, I insist she does. You, however, are quite free to stay here. I will make suitable arrangements to ensure you live in a modicum of comfort. Will that suit you?’
Margaret looked from one to the other and her shoulders slumped. ‘I can’t stay here alone,’ she said, in a voice that lost its defiance.
‘That is your choice,’ Kit said. ‘Think on it. Now, there is a third reason I have come. I have news of Daniel.’
Margaret stiffened. ‘Daniel?’
Kit took two crumpled and stained letters from his jacket.
‘This letter,’ he said, holding up the first sheet, ‘is an order for Daniel’s release and a pardon.’
Margaret sank into a chair and looked up at him. ‘How … ?’ she began, but Kit raised his finger to silence her.
‘It doesn’t matter how,’ he said. ‘I had secured this paper, and we were about to take ship for Barbados to bring him home when circumstances intervened.’
He glanced at Thamsine, reliving, as he still did in his nightmares, those black days. She nodded encouragingly and he took a breath and continued.
‘You said you’d seen reports of my death. Well, they’re true. To England, Kit Lovell is dead. Thamsine and I would have left months ago, but … ’ He paused. ‘My health meant a delay to our voyage.’
‘What has your health to do with Daniel?’ Margaret demanded.
Thamsine glared at the woman. ‘You have no idea, do you?’ she said. ‘Kit bought Daniel’s freedom with his life. Show them, Kit.’
Frances and Margaret watched as Kit unwound the carelessly, and, he had hoped, fashionably knotted neckcloth, revealing the faint but still visible marks of the rope.
Frances put her hands to her mouth.
‘They really hanged you?’ she said in a small, tight voice.
‘Yes,’ Kit answered, retying the cloth around his neck.
Margaret frowned. ‘Why?’
Thamsine answered. ‘Kit had an agreement with the government that if he did certain work for them, Daniel would be freed. He met his side of the bargain, which is how he secured the pardon.’
‘But why did they want to hang you?’ Frances had paled.
‘That’s a long story,’ Kit said. ‘We can save it for another time. I had an assurance Daniel would be placed on the first ship back to England. ‘
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Margaret demanded.
‘I wanted to be sure he was safe.’
Margaret‘s gaze flicked from Kit to Thamsine. Kit took a deep breath and handed his stepmother the letter from Governor Willoughby.
Margaret held it at arm’s length as if it would burn her. ‘Who is Thurloe?’ she asked.
