Chapter 17
Daniel stared up at the red woollen bed hangings. As if being ill and helpless in the company of strangers was not bad enough, to be ill and helpless in front of Agnes Fletcher was humiliating.
Little snatches of memory came back to him. Had he really tried to count her freckles?
At that thought, he smiled. She had charming freckles.
Perhaps one day she might let him finish counting them.
And she had sat with him all that long night.
She didn’t have to do that. After all, they had known each other for such a short time.
They were strangers … or had been strangers.
His fingers tightened on the sheets. She had seen Outhwaite’s legacy.
After that, there could be few secrets between them.
The malaise that always settled on him after a bout of marsh fever cast him into dark places and rendered him incapable of thought, let alone action. He knew how this went. It could be days, if not weeks before he would be fit enough to continue the journey.
The door opened and the goodwife, Ellen Howell, bustled in, carrying a pile of folded linen.
In their short acquaintance, he had learned that Mistress Howell was not a woman to be trifled with.
She brooked no nonsense and neither did she cosset and fuss — although he had to admit that Agnes had not cosseted or fussed either.
Agnes had sat beside him while the fever shook him, ready with a cool cloth and a comforting touch.
Since the fever had broken he had seen only Ellen, with her acerbic tongue, ready supply of noxious potions, and clean bed linen.
‘I’ve found this for you,’ she said and handed him an old, patched but clean nightshirt.
She crossed her arms and regarded him with an unblinking gaze as he pulled it on.
‘Satisfy my curiosity, lad,’ she said. ‘That beating would have killed a lesser man. How did you survive it?’
‘I nearly didn’t,’ he said, and when she remained silent, he added, ‘I think it involved sea water and maggots.’
In truth, he had little memory of those first few days aboard L’Archange. The rough ministrations of a former slave who called himself Baptiste had been all that kept death away.
He preferred not to think about the maggots but Ellen continued, ‘I’m a great believer in maggots,’ she said, more to herself than him. ‘Saved many a man with a suppurating wound.’
‘You know a lot about suppurating wounds?’
‘Aye, I do. More than a body should. They brought the wounded to us after Marston Moor, the mistress’s husband among them.’
‘Sir Jonathan?’
Ellen shook her head. ‘No, her first husband.’ Her lips tightened and she looked away. ‘I couldn’t save him.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Daniel said.
She sniffed and squared her shoulders. ‘Aye, well. That’s as may be. God blessed her with a good man and some fine, bonny bairns. And you my lad … I’ve an unguent that would help soften the scars. Just get that pretty girl o’ yours to do that once a day and ye’ll be a new man.’
Daniel felt the colour rising to his cheeks. ‘I think you mistake my relationship with Mistress Fletcher,’ he mumbled.
The thought of Agnes bending over him and applying any sort of unguent to the scars on his back provoked mixed thoughts.
On the one hand, a very physical part of him responded to the possibility of her soft hands.
On the other hand, the mere thought that Agnes had seen his back and the hideous scars mortified him.
Something like a smile twitched Ellen’s craggy features. ‘Is that so?’
As if summoned, the door opened and Agnes herself entered, carrying a tray. She set it down across his knees.
‘Soup,’ she said. ‘Lady Thornton insists you eat it all.’
Daniel glared at the invalid pap in the bowl. ‘I would hate to disappoint Lady Thornton, but if she keeps feeding me this she will never be rid of me.’
Agnes cast him a sharp glance and Ellen put her hands on her hips and, addressing Agnes, said, ‘When they start to get churlish and difficult, ye know they’re on the mend.’
Daniel looked up, the spoon halfway to his mouth. ‘I’m not being difficult. There are things I have to do. I just don’t have time to … ’
Ellen raised an eyebrow. ‘Time to what, my lad? Ye’re not going anywhere until I’m satisfied that ye’re strong enough. Now eat that soup. Every last drop. Now I’ve better things to do than prattle with you.’ She dropped a curtsey in Agnes’s direction. ‘Mistress Fletcher.’
Daniel waited until the door had closed and the sound of Ellen’s firm footsteps had disappeared. ‘She scares me more than the captain of the Archangel,’ he said.
Agnes sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘Me too, but she’s right, Daniel. We are not going anywhere until you are quite well. I was … ’ She looked away, her throat working. ‘I was so scared I was going to lose you.’
‘Why? As has just been pointed out, I’ve been nothing but rude and churlish and I’ve surely given you no reason to wish me well.’
She flashed him a sharp glance. ‘You’ve given me every reason to wish you well. You have been a friend when I needed one, however base your motives.’
Daniel took another mouthful of the soup. Despite his protests about it being invalid pap, it was thick with vegetables and pieces of chicken and tasted wonderful.
‘There are things in my past, Agnes … ’
She raised her chin, a gesture he had come to recognize. For a tiny person, she had a strong will, and he suspected she brooked no nonsense, not from the children in her care … or him.
‘I’ve seen your back, Daniel Lovell. It tells its own story and I’ll not ask you about it if you don’t wish to tell me.’
He set the spoon back in the near-empty bowl. ‘Thank you.’ In truth, he had no idea how to even begin telling that particular story. He changed the subject. ‘Is there a Lady Longley in this house?’
Agnes nodded. ‘Lady Eleanor Longley is Sir Jonathan’s sister.’
‘I have some letters for her in my satchel, but I would like to see her.’
‘Lady Longley?’ Agnes frowned. ‘I thought your business was with Sir Jonathan.’
‘I met her husband, and he asked me to carry his letters for him. I thought maybe she would want some news of him too.’
‘I’ll fetch her.’
After Agnes left the room, Daniel set the tray aside, lay back on the bolsters and closed his eyes. He cursed the fever that always left him irritatingly tired. Ellen was right; it would be a week or more before he was fit enough to sit a horse for any distance.
The door creaked open and he opened his eyes. The woman in the blue dress with fair ringlets and startlingly blue eyes could only be Lady Longley. She crossed the floor and looked down at him, her cornflower blue eyes filled with concern as Agnes slipped into the room behind her.
Lady Longley may have been a few years older than him, but she was beautiful and he felt the heat of embarrassment rise to his face and wondered how her husband could bear to have been separated from her for so long.
The preponderance of women in this household, after years of male companionship, took some getting used to, particularly as he only seemed to be meeting them at a significant physical disadvantage.
‘I’m Lady Longley, Master Lovell. I do hope you are feeling recovered?’ She smiled and laid her hand over his, soft golden curls falling around her face. ‘I believe you have some word of my husband?’
He cleared his throat and extricated his hand. ‘I am well on the road to recovery. Thank you for coming to see me, Lady Longley and yes, I met your husband recently and have some letters for you from him. Agnes … can you find them?’
Agnes obliged, producing the crumpled and travel-stained packets from the bottom of his bag.
She handed them to Daniel, who went through them quickly.
He set the one addressed to Sir Jonathan aside and handed the others to Lady Longley.
She carried them over to the window, where she stood with her back to the room, quickly scanning them without opening them.
‘How kind of him to write to his daughter,’ she said in an acerbic tone, waving the offending missive in the air before slamming it down on the windowsill. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against the glass.
Daniel glanced at Agnes. From her wide eyes, he took it that the reaction was not what she had expected either. Lady Longley straightened and turned around, looking from one to the other, colour staining her cheeks.
‘I apologise. I am weary of this long separation. I have two children who do not know their father. Tell me, was Giles well when you saw him?’
‘He seemed to be in good health,’ Daniel replied. ‘And if it’s any consolation, he asked me to tell you that he will make amends.’
A bitter, humourless smile twisted Eleanor Longley’s mouth and she tapped the letters in her hand. ‘I will read these later. Is there anything I can do for you, Master Lovell?’
He shook his head. ‘No, the kindness of everyone in this house has been quite overwhelming.’ He cleared his throat and added, in the hope it might console her, ‘Lord Longley seemed hopeful of returning to England with the King.’
‘And then, of course, all will be well,’ Lady Longley said with a noticeable crack in her voice. ‘Excuse me, please. I will be better company in the morning.’
She turned and left the room.
Daniel glanced at Agnes. ‘Was she crying?’
Agnes nodded as she bent to pick up the tray from where Daniel had pushed it. ‘Yes. So many broken lives, Daniel. Is there anything else I can do for you?’
Daniel closed his eyes, covering them with his arm. ‘Leave me. I’m poor company, Agnes.’
Her heels clicked on the wooden floor and the door creaked open.
‘I will see you in the morning. Good night, Daniel,’ she said.
As the door closed behind her, Daniel lay awake staring up at the panelled ceiling of the bed. So many broken lives, Agnes had said, and he was coming to see how much the affairs of men had impacted the lives of their women.
He thought of his mother and sister, forced to eke out an existence in a few rooms of a ruined house; of Agnes, who had nothing and no one; and Lady Longley, who had been forced to be mother and father to children, who would not recognise their father if he walked through the door.
And what had been the cause of all this misery? The stubborn pride of a little man who called himself King had brought England to civil war.
At that traitorous thought, he closed his eyes and turned his thoughts instead to that man’s son, who had also suffered through his father’s hubris.
Charles reigned over a shadow court in a country that did not want him when his own throne waited for him here in England.
There would never be peace until a king sat once more upon his throne in England and he, Daniel, still had a part to play in bringing the world back to rights.