Page 67 of Exile's Return
Agnes drew a sharp breath. ‘The truth is I fear for the children more than my own life.’
Kate crossed to her and took her in her arms. ‘Agnes, if there is any danger, please promise me you won’t throw your life away for gold.’
Agnes stepped back and met Kate’s clear, grey eyes. ‘Never for gold, but I would for the children.’
Kate nodded. ‘I understand.’ She looked around at the three men. ‘I presume you will wish to leave as soon as possible? I think these two need to talk.’ She ushered her husband and Kit out of the room, leaving Agnes alone with Daniel.
Agnes crossed her arms and glared at him. ‘Well? Was it always about the gold?’
He returned her gaze. ‘I said what I had to say, Agnes. When I left the Lowlands, it seemed a simple proposition to endear myself to you, get into Charvaley, and make good my escape — with the gold. Then I met you.’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘How can I believe anything you told me is true?’
He shook his head. ‘Everything I have told you about myself is the truth, Agnes.’
‘It’s what you didn’t tell me,’ she said. ‘You didn’t trust me.’
‘I didn’t know you,’ he protested, ‘but I do know you now, Agnes and I —’ He swallowed. ‘I owe you my life.’
Agnes stared at him. ‘Your life?’
‘Yes, my life. Marsh fever can kill but because of you, I didn’t die. If I were indeed a knight of old, I would kneel at your feet and pledge my life in your service, but as you well know I am a former slave and a privateer and any such gentlemanly notions were long since beaten out of me, so you will just have to learn to trust me.’
He swept her a lowly bow and turned away. At the door, he glanced back to look at her. ‘You are wrong about onething, Agnes. This is no longer about the gold or Tobias Ashby Whatever your feelings for me, you have my word that I will do whatever is within my power to give you back your son,’ he said. ‘Whatever it takes.’
Chapter 29
Eveleigh Priory, Cheshire 25 November 1659
‘This is it?’ Agnes spoke first, breaking the heavy silence.
The four of them stood on a weed-infested forecourt, looking up at the ruined façade of a once-grand house. Scorch marks still blackened the walls and ivy, dead leaves clinging to the stems, curled through and around the empty windows like worms through a skeleton.
Daniel’s breath clouded in the cold air. ‘I don’t remember it being this bad,’ he said, his voice taut with emotion.
The decision to take a detour to Eveleigh had been Jonathan’s. Although they might have thought it, neither of the Lovell brother had raised the subject. Surprisingly, although it meant a delay of several days before reaching Preston, Agnes had agreed.
Kit cleared his throat. ‘It has deteriorated badly since I last saw it,’ he said. ‘The east wing was, as you know, still habitable.’ He indicated a wing of the house that still retained its roof, although it sagged in places and several windows had been boarded up. Others still retained glass.
‘I had a difficult time persuading your mother to leave,’ Kit continued. ‘It was only much later that she admitted that she had not wanted to go because of the hope you may one day knock on the door. She feared you would find no one here.’
Daniel swallowed. ‘And yet here I am.’
Something brushed his hand, and instinctively his fingers curled around Agnes’s gloved hand. He returned the slight, reassuring pressure before she slipped her hand away.
With heavy steps, he walked across to the front of the house, where a fine set of stairs still rose to the portico and the gaping hole that had once been the front door. He sat down on the top step, his elbows on his knees.
‘Ashby shot him here,’ he said. ‘On these steps. He died in Kit’s arms.’
He looked down as if he still expected to see his father’s blood running down toward the gravel of the forecourt. A wave of emotion swept through him and he covered his face with his hand. Not since that first night after the battle, with his aching head pressed to King John’s tomb, had he felt such helplessness.
A hand rested on his shoulder and he looked up to see Kit, offering what he could in wordless comfort and understanding. He took Kit’s proffered hand and rose to his feet.
‘Where is he buried?’ Agnes asked.
Daniel pointed through the now-leafless trees to the little chapel that had served the Midhurst family for the centuries that they had owned Eveleigh. Kit flung his arm across Daniel’s shoulders and they tramped through the woods followed by Jonathan and Agnes, their footsteps silenced by the heavy fall of leaves.
Like the house, the chapel lay in a ruinous state, its roof was mostly gone and only the splintered remains of the once-beautiful old stained glass still adhering to the window frames.Ashby’s soldiers had delighted in destroying the idolatrous images.
