Page 58 of Exile's Return
Agnes shook her head. ‘I am not seeking advice.’
‘Then what is it you want?’
Agnes rose to her feet and paced the floor, before returning to the fire. ‘I want a home, like this one. A home with a husband and children, and a laundry maid singing in the yard…’ She broke off and looked away. ‘Perhaps, once the King is restored to the throne, the children can be returned to my care and the injustices will be redressed.’
Kate smiled. ‘Once again, that refrain, Agnes — when the King returns.Ifthe King returns…’
‘No!’ Agnes cut in. ‘I have to believe it, Lady Thornton. I have to hope.’
Kate nodded. ‘I have been blessed in my life by good people who have helped me when I needed it and I want you to know if ever you need help or assistance, Agnes, do not hesitate to come to us. God knows Jonathan and I have seen our share of trouble. We would never turn away anyone who needed us. Go to Charvaley, satisfy yourself that the children are in good hands, but come back here. There will always be room for you.’
Agnes blinked. She had never met such generosity of spirit. ‘That would be a debt I could never repay, Lady Thornton. Surely I would just be another mouth to feed?’
‘Oh, I’m sure you will find a way to make yourself useful, Agnes. You are a resourceful young woman and there is always Daniel Lovell…’ Kate trailed off with a knowing smile.
‘No.’ Agnes shook her head. ‘Daniel is on his own journey.’
Kate’s calm, grey eyes studied Agnes for a long moment. ‘I saw the way he looked at you just now, and you at him. Whatever drove you both together has now become a partnership. But you are right, you and he need to decide whether you continue on your current path together or take different paths and wait to see what transpires in the next few months.’ She rose to her feet, once more the brisk, efficient mistress of the house. ‘Doors will open for you, my dear. You just have to be ready to walk through them.’
Chapter 25
The landlady of the Black Cross hailed Daniel like an old friend and directed him to the same private chamber he had occupied on his recent stay. Daniel stood looking at the door for a long moment before rapping firmly on the dark oak.
‘Enter.’
Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped inside. Kit had been sitting at the table, a half-eaten meal set before him. Seeing Daniel, he rose slowly to his feet, apprehension momentarily clouding his face. His eyebrow quirked in a manner so familiar that Daniel felt transported back to his childhood. This really was his brother, the idolised Kit. All the anger and resentment that had suffused him on the previous day began to slough away.
‘You came,’ Kit said.
‘There seems to be a consensus at Seven Ways that I should hear your side of the story before I pass judgment on your actions. I want to know why you turned coat.’
Kit nodded. He walked over to a table and poured two cups of wine from a jug. Although Kit tried to disguise a shaking hand, the wine slopped in the cup as he handed it to his brother. Daniel took the cup but didn’t drink.
‘It is probably a little early for wine,’ Kit said, taking a draught and setting the cup down on the table.
He turned and paced the floor to the window and stood looking down into the street below. His shoulders rose and fell in a silent sigh before he turned to face his brother, casting his face into shadow.
‘The answer is simple. I was offered a choice,’ he said. ‘My life for yours.’
My life for yours?
Daniel sank onto the nearest chair, bereft of words.
‘On condition I became an agent of the Commonwealth, I would win your freedom. Please understand, I had been very badly wounded and maybe was not thinking as clearly as I should have done but it seemed quite a simple decision at the time. It was no choice…not for me. Passing on scraps and snippets of gossip seemed harmless enough, but as time went on they — should I say John Thurloe — wanted more and more and I got drawn further and further into the plots, but still I justified it. What were the lives of a few old comrades for that of my brother?’
‘Jonathan Thornton was offered the same choice,’ Daniel said.
‘No, he wasn’t. Thurloe was not holding his brother hostage,’ Kit replied.
‘But he would have died rather than turn his coat…’ Daniel persisted.
‘No!’ Kit’s voice cracked. ‘You’re not listening to me. This is not about Jonathan Thornton. This is about you and me, Daniel. You were a boy who had followed me to war because of my foolish tales. You should never have been at Worcester, but theblame that you were there rests entirely on me. Thurloe offered me a chance to make it right. I took it.’
Daniel stared at this man he hardly knew. Had Kit really been prepared to sacrifice other lives for his, or had there been a baser motive?
‘But men died because of you,’ he said, between tight lips.
Kit turned back to the window. ‘Yes…good men who didn’t deserve to die. Don’t think for a moment that I don’t live with their ghosts on my conscience. I would have saved them if I could but I…’ He broke off. Daniel saw his brother’s reflection in the mottled glass, his face contorted with pain. ‘I was too late.’ Kit concluded.
