Хелен Диксон – Reunited At The King's Court (страница 10)
‘And not still in France or The Hague, where King Charles had his Court,’ she whispered.
‘Exactly.’
‘I once told you that your life was precious to me. Do you remember?’
He nodded. ‘I do. It was when I was about to leave for France.’
‘It is still. You are still precious to me, William.’
William laughed softly in an attempt to lighten the moment, to dispel the seriousness from her eyes. ‘And you have turned into a very beautiful young woman. I’m afraid if I don’t watch my step I am in danger of letting my emotions get the better of me.’
Suddenly the darkness of the night was illuminated by a fabulous firework display, which lit up the night sky in a fantastic array of colour. Cries of awe and excitement and laughter from those watching the display destroyed the magic of the moment like someone bursting a bubble. The clarity of her thoughts now recovered, Arlette looked around, as though awaking from a dream.
‘I’d quite forgotten about the fireworks. What happened to Hector, by the way? Did you take him to France?’
‘I did and he served me well, until a couple of years ago when he died of old age.’
‘Poor Hector. I’m glad he was with you at the end. We were speaking of the petitions being presented to the King by returning Royalists. I would like to know more about that.’
Resisting the urge to take her in his arms and bury his face in her glorious wealth of hair, William drew back a little. He must not, he told himself. A moment ago, in a moment of weakness, he had almost given in to the desire to kiss her. To do so would bind him to her in ways he would find hard to break and this he must not do, not when he was bound to someone else. But as he looked at her lovely face his thoughts were anything but honourable and he prayed he could be forgiven any impure thoughts that crossed his mind. She really did have the deepest, loveliest blue-green eyes he had ever seen and her lashes were long and dark and swept her cheeks when she lowered her eyes with a fresh naivety, which he knew stemmed from innocence. His eye was drawn to the faint shadow beneath her jaw line and the tendril of silken hair in her nape. He imagined the tiny curl around his finger, his hands at the back of her neck, just where the heavy mass of her hair lay above the lace of her gown.
Forcing himself to concentrate on her question, he said, ‘Every Royalist in England wants something back, be it land, property or money. Some Royalists who are not impoverished and had their property confiscated have bought it back. Others whose properties were sold may not be so fortunate. After the enormous fines exacted on Royalists after our defeat at Naseby, many of them were forced to sell off land to pay them. As if that were not enough, the house and the rest of the land were confiscated. It is hopefully expected that everything claimed by whoever claimed jurisdiction in London will be returned to its rightful owner. Earlier you told me that Mayfield Hall has been confiscated.’
‘Yes, at least that is what we understand. We had a letter from Blanche recently and she told us a man and his wife were living there. The lady of the house died a year ago and her husband lives there alone. He is not in the best of health and not expected to live long.’
‘Then you may be fortunate if you petition to have the estate returned to you. But it is early days yet. Whitehall is filled to capacity with Royalists and their families wanting something from the King. But all that is for another day.’
‘Will he be a good king?’
‘Time will tell, but I believe so. Hester told me of your impending betrothal to Sir Ralph Crompton. He’s a lucky man—no doubt he has your head in a spin.’
His words penetrated the fog of Arlette’s senses, bringing her back from the languorous narcosis into which the magical evening, the moon and the stars and his presence had sent her. She felt as if something were shattering inside her; a raw, illogical panic slithered into her. She had not wanted to think of Sir Ralph Crompton. It spoiled the moment.
She stepped back, horrified that Hester had confided this to William. ‘It’s clear you have never met Sir Ralph.’
‘No, I am not acquainted with him.’
‘Clearly.’ Her eyes flashed rebelliously. ‘I feel no joy in being betrothed to him. He’s an old man—fifty and a widower with two young daughters. Father would never have given his permission for me to marry a Puritan—a man who pledged himself to Cromwell and the Commonwealth.’
‘Why not? Hester married one.’
‘Richard did not declare his allegiance to Parliament until after their marriage, otherwise Father would not have allowed it, even though Hester would have no other. Richard hadn’t been of any persuasion then, until he met Sir Ralph. Impressed and influenced by Sir Ralph, he soon fell under his spell.’
‘And you have no wish to marry Sir Ralph. I hear it in your voice and see it in your eyes. Your life is not yours to order, is it, Arlette?’
‘What woman’s life is? I have lived in Richard’s house since you brought me to London and the price I have to pay is obedience. An alliance between Sir Ralph and me would be advantageous to Richard—they are both in the same trade and Sir Ralph is important and powerful in the guild. Marriage to Sir Ralph is a way in which Sir Ralph would honour Richard with such an important connection—I often get the feeling that Sir Ralph has some kind of hold over him, although what it can be I have no idea. I am duty-bound to show my gratitude for all Hester and Richard have done for me since I came to live with them. Indeed, if I don’t marry him, Richard has told me the consequences are too dire to contemplate.’
William was uneasy by her reply. If what she said was true and Sir Ralph Crompton was indeed an old man—as old as Methuselah to a young woman—then he couldn’t blame her for having an aversion to the match. He was badly affected by this lovely young woman who had commanded all his attention from the moment he had seen her when he had ridden up the Strand. Strangely, the thought of Arlette with another man—in his arms, kissing him, lying with him, young or old—disgusted him. Looking at her afresh, he could not help feeling that such perfect beauty would be sadly wasted on an old man.
‘So am I to understand that you would prefer it to be an affair of the heart when you marry?’ he asked, with a teasing twinkle in his eyes.
‘A love match. That’s what I really want, nothing less,’ she replied, meeting his eyes steadily.
William cocked an eyebrow with wry amusement and mastered a faint smile. ‘Love! My dear Arlette, people rarely marry for love.’
‘Oh, but you are wrong,’ she enthused, her eyes sparkling with animation. ‘I know many who have.’
‘Then you must make your feelings clear to Richard. He may not be in accord with our beliefs, but he appears to be a reasonable man. I doubt he would force you into such a marriage.’
‘He will try, no matter how hard I protest my aversion to Sir Ralph. He considers me problematical and cannot wait to get me off his hands. But it goes against the grain marrying a Parliamentarian.’
‘You cannot hold that against him, Arlette. Many families were divided during the war years. For those who had faith, believing that the things they fought for were right, then they deserve our respect. They were our enemies—but honourable enemies.’ He got to his feet. ‘I must take my leave of you, I’m afraid. I’ve arranged to meet up with some gentlemen at Whitehall later. I expect the celebrations will continue throughout the night.’
‘Yes, I expect they will,’ she replied, disappointed that he had to go.
Arlette accompanied him to the door where they paused, stepping aside as people went in and out.
‘Will you advise me about what to do to forward a petition to have Mayfield Hall returned? I really would appreciate some advice.’
‘Now the King is restored the injustices will be redressed. Those who remained loyal will not find him ungrateful. He does not forget his friends, but you must give it some time, time for him to settle into a routine.’
‘Of course. I understand. I’m sorry, William. I apologise. I should not ask you. You have your own troubles. What must you think of me?’
What did he think of her? He didn’t know. All he knew was that he wanted to hold her and go on holding her, but it was sheer madness and dishonourable to one other to harbour such thoughts. He shook his head and lowered his gaze, knowing he would be unable to look into those blue-green eyes for much longer without beginning to lose all reason.
‘I’ll do what I can, Arlette. Maybe you should go and see your father’s lawyer—or perhaps Hester, being the eldest. Let him sort it out.’
‘Thank you. I’ll talk to Hester. Goodnight, William. You will come again?’
He turned and looked at her, seeing the appeal in her eyes. ‘Yes, yes, I will.’
Returning to Whitehall, William realised that if he wasn’t careful his feelings for Arlette would be in danger of running out of control. He had been totally unprepared for her—how she would look now she had grown into a woman—how she would affect him. He should never have let her come so close. But, no, he thought, that wasn’t how it was. He should never have let