Exile’s Return (Guardians of the Crown #3)

Chapter 1

Agnes Fletcher gripped the windowsill as a distant clock struck twelve, marking the fall of the executioner’s axe.

James Ashby, the third earl of Elmhurst, was dead.

She closed her eyes and prayed that death had been swift.

Taking a deep breath, Agnes turned to face the room. The cold draught that rose between the ill-fitting floorboards of the inn lifted her skirts as she walked across to where the two children were playing a noisy game of knucklebones.

‘You cheated!’ seven-year-old Elizabeth, the eldest of the two, exclaimed.

Four-year-old Henry hurled himself at his sister, issuing a loud and high-pitched disclaimer that rang in Agnes’s ears, jarring her nerves.

‘Stop it!’

Something in her tone made the two children fall silent.

They looked up at her, their eyes wide and mouths open in surprise. Agnes rarely raised her voice.

‘Why are you crying?’ Henry asked.

Agnes dashed at her cheek, where the betraying tears streamed from her eyes. She dropped to her knees and gathered the two now-silent children into her arms.

Dear God, what is to become of us?

‘Your father … ’ A sob caught in her throat.

Lizzie stood rigid in the circle of her arms.

‘He’s dead?’ Lizzie’s voice cracked.

All Agnes could do was nod in reply as the tears coursed unchecked down her cheeks. Henry began to wail and burrowed his golden head into Agnes’s shoulder.

They had gone to visit James yesterday, the last visit permitted by the authorities.

Perhaps, she had thought, as James went down on his knees to hold his children for the last time, it would have been easier on them all if they had stayed away.

The memory of James’s fair head bent over his children filled her eyes again.

He had risen to his feet and taken her hands in his. ‘Agnes, dear Agnes,’ he had said. ‘Tomorrow I die, and you are all the children have left. You must fight for them. There is no one else.’

No one else except James’s cousin, Tobias Ashby, but for once Tobias’s malevolent shadow stayed away. Even he had the decency to allow father and children this last farewell.

There had been so much she wanted to say to James, but the words stuck in her throat. He smiled, a soft sad smile, and picked up a book from the table.

‘Take this,’ he said, pressing it into her hands. ‘A memento of me, and our affection for each other.’

Our affection for each other.

He had kissed her, a soft kiss on her forehead, and she had gathered up the children and walked away from him. He would never know how she had longed for him to take her in his arms, and for the kiss to be that of the lover she had known, not a dear friend.

The tread of heavy boots on the gallery outside the room brought her back to the present. Agnes jumped to her feet, wiping the last of the tears from her face and straightening the children’s collars as she waited for the knock on the door.

Three burly soldiers entered, followed by someone she had come to know well in the past few years; Captain Septimus Turner, Tobias Ashby’s ever-present second in command. Turner scanned the room before bringing his gaze to rest on the woman and the two children who cowered behind her skirts.

‘Madam, it is my unhappy duty to inform you that the traitor James Ashby is dead,’ Turner said, without a flicker of emotion on his face.

Agnes tightened her grip on the children’s hands. Henry shrank back and Lizzie buried her face in the bunched skirts of Agnes’s gown, muffling her sobs.

Taking a deep breath, Agnes gathered her courage to ask the question that had kept her wakeful for too many nights.

‘What is to become of the children?’

Turner glanced at Henry and Elizabeth with cold, dispassionate eyes.

‘You will be summoned to Whitehall when your petition has been considered by the Committee. In the meantime, you are to remain here. You are not to leave London.’

‘I can only pray that will not be too long,’ Agnes said, thinking of her empty purse. ‘The children should be returned to their home as soon as possible.’

Ignoring her, Turner turned to his men. ‘We have the traitor’s personal possessions. Where do you want us to put them?’

Agnes’s resolve buckled at the sight of the familiar metal-bound box that James had taken with him into the Tower. Only her need to stay calm for the children steadied her.

‘Well?’ Turner demanded.

She waved vaguely at a dark corner of the inn room. ‘Over there. Tell me … was it … quick?’’

The man considered her for a moment. ‘I was not present, but the Colonel assures me he died bravely and in the love of God, madam.’

Of course, Tobias would have been there.

Agnes straightened and replied in an icy tone, ‘That is of no comfort.’

Turner’s gaze met hers and for a brief moment some emotion, anger or amusement, she could not tell, flashed in his eyes.

He inclined his head and half turned for the door. ‘I reiterate, you are not to leave London, Mistress Fletcher.’

‘Am I under arrest?’ Agnes raised her chin, cursing her lack of inches.

The man shook his head. ‘No, but we will know if you try to leave and it will do your cause no favours.’

Agnes straightened. She could not imagine any other outcome other than safe return home to Charvaley. She took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘And where would we go, Captain Turner? I have no money and no friends who would take us in.’

Not if they did not wish to incur the wrath of the children’s only other living relative, Colonel Tobias Ashby.

Tobias had been high in favour under Cromwell.

Of course, since the Lord Protector’s death, the world had shifted on its axis, and she considered the betrayal of his cousin may have been Tobias’s attempt to keep in favour with the new regime.

‘I will pray to God and put my trust in this Committee. I would remind you that I am the children’s aunt and closer by blood than the Colonel,’ she continued.

Turner regarded her without expression. He had no interest in hearing her plead her case; his loyalty lay entirely with Tobias.

He inclined his head. ‘You will receive word when you are to appear before the Committee. Good day to you, madam.’ He jerked his head at his soldiers. ‘Come.’

The door slammed closed behind them and Agnes’s resolve failed. She sank to her knees, burying her face in her hands as she wept. This time the arms of the two children circled her, as they added their tears to hers.