Chapter 30
Daniel had not known what to expect from Charvaley Castle.
The village of Charvaley lay hard up against the castle walls, where it had nestled for centuries in the protection of the lords of the castle.
It boasted a collection of well-kept cottages, a church with a solid square tower, a small inn, and a market square before the old gatehouse of the castle.
The village lay quiet, blanketed in an autumnal mist through which the bulk of the castle loomed above the little houses.
It was one of those castles that had long since ceased to be defensible, its crumbling walls transformed into a fine residence by successive generations of Ashbys.
Only the gatehouse and a couple of towers remained of the original castle, the walls no doubt softened by wallflowers and ivy in summer.
Now only dried stalks clung to the old stones, giving it a bleak and forbidding aspect.
The picture of benign innocence ended at the gate, where he was stopped by two red-coated soldiers. Turner’s men, he supposed. He told them his business was with Colonel Ashby and of a personal nature.
‘Colonel’s not here,’ one said. ‘Gone to London.’
Daniel considered this information. It could be a blessing in disguise if Ashby were away from home. ‘Then I will speak with Captain Turner,’ he said.
One of the guards scratched his ear as he considered. He gave a curt nod and stood aside to let Daniel pass.
The residence, built, Daniel guessed, in the early years of James’s reign, fronted the courtyard. He was shown through the large, elegant front door into a spacious, tiled entrance hall.
‘What is your business with Colonel Ashby?’
Turner stood at a door with one hand on the handle, as if he meant to deal swiftly with this visitor.
For a brief moment Turner frowned, and Daniel wondered if he had been recognized.
He had deliberately not shaved since leaving Seven Ways and hoped the dark stubble concealed his identity from those who remembered a fresh-faced boy.
Daniel fumbled in his pocket and produced Agnes’s note. ‘I bring a note from my lady,’ he said, affecting the inflections of his native Cheshire.
‘And who is your mistress?’ Turner’s lips curved in a sneer.
‘Mistress Fletcher.’
Turner relinquished his hold on the door handle and approached him, snatching the note from him.
‘It’s meant for Colonel Ashby,’ Daniel protested. ‘My lady was most insistent.’
‘In the Colonel’s absence I have his complete authority,’ Turner said, breaking the seal.
He read the contents and looked up. ‘Where is your mistress now?’
‘Waiting in Preston, sir. She said to say how she knows she’s not welcome here but would speak with the Colonel.’
Turner compressed his lips and glanced at the note again. ‘Very well, I will return to Preston with you.’
***
Agnes had been watching for Daniel’s return from the window of her chamber, the most expensive the inn could supply.
Seeing Septimus Turner riding beside him, she took a step back, her stomach churning.
She had been prepared to face Ashby, had all her arguments in place, but Turner was an unknown quantity.
How much did he know of his master’s business?
At the peremptory knock on the door, she turned to greet her visitor.
Turner swept his hat from his head and gave her a cursory bow. She returned his half-hearted gesture with a mere inclination of her head. His gaze flicked to Daniel, who had opened the door to admit Turner and now stood deferentially to one side as if awaiting further orders.
‘I was expecting Colonel Ashby,’ she said, ignoring the implication in Turner’s gesture. Daniel would not be leaving the room.
Turner’s lips compressed. ‘The Colonel has been in London, although we expect his return in a day or so. There is nothing you need to say to the Colonel that cannot be said to me.’
Agnes narrowed her eyes and allowed a thin, humourless smile to play on her lips. ‘Oh, but there is, Captain Turner. When I spoke with the Colonel in London I was in shock, but since I have had time to reflect, I find my memory about certain events of the last year has become a little clearer.’
Turner’s face betrayed nothing, but his body stiffened and she knew she had hit the mark. Turner knew about the gold.
‘What do you want?’ he enquired.
‘Of you, nothing. I will return with you to the castle and await the Colonel,’ she said.
‘But … ’ Turner began, but she raised a hand.
‘I will see the children,’ she said. ‘If you deny me that, I leave Preston today and that will be an end of it. Ashby will never know what it was I came to tell him.’
Turner’s jaw worked. She could almost hear his brain churning through the conflicting orders. He was a man who only responded to orders and his were plain. Agnes Fletcher was not to be admitted at Charvaley.
He looked down at the hat in his hand and cleared his throat. ‘Very well. Do you have a horse? I brought no coach.’
She nodded and he gave a curt inclination of his head. ‘I will be waiting downstairs.’
She heard Turner’s boots on the stairs and let out a heartfelt sigh as Daniel closed the door.
‘You did well,’ he said, turning to her.
Agnes shivered. ‘He scares me more than Ashby.’
He crossed the floor to her and for a long moment, they stood facing each other. The weeks in an autumnal England, and his illness, had faded his tan, but the dark stubble on his chin and the scar on his cheek only served to make him look more exotic, more piratical, as Henry would have said.
She longed for him to touch her, to fold her in his arms and tell her all would be well, but she had set the barriers between them and there they would remain.
‘I’m not a conspirator,’ she said. ‘I just want my children and my home. Should we leave a message for Jonathan and Kit?’
Daniel shook his head. ‘They know where to go. I think we can trust them to find their way. Now, I’d better be a good manservant and go and organise the horses. I shall see you downstairs … madam.’ He gave her a low bow, and picking up Agnes’s travelling satchel, Daniel left the room.
Gathering up her cloak and hat, Agnes took a deep breath and stepped into the unknown.