LITMIR.BIZ

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was painfully thin. Against the pillows his flesh was waxen and clung to the bones of his face. But the eyes that studied him were sharp and shrewd and bright with intelligence. William moved close to the bed and gave a formal bow. There was no mistaking the gravity of the moment.

      ‘My daughter informs me that you are William Latham—your family home is Arlington Court in Warwickshire, which I recall Thomas telling me about.’

      ‘That is correct.’

      ‘Welcome to Mayfield Hall. You are the son of Lord Robert Latham, I believe.’

      William nodded. ‘He was killed during the siege at Colchester in forty-eight.’

      ‘I’m sorry to hear that. I knew him well. He was a fine man.’

      ‘Yes—yes, he was.’

      ‘It cannot have been easy for you coming here. News has reached us of the battle at Worcester and that it ended in a bloody defeat for the Royalists.’

      ‘The battle was doomed before it began.’

      ‘My son—Thomas...?’

      ‘Was taken prisoner.’

      A great relief swept over Sir Isaac. ‘Thank the Lord. You, too, have survived the battle and I imagine you are impatient to put as much distance between you and the victors as you can.’

      A fit of coughing rendered him speechless and left him exhausted against the pillows. Arlette moved closer to the bed, her young face filled with concern.

      ‘Father, you will tire yourself. You must rest.’

      The trace of a thin smile touched the old man’s lips. ‘I’ll have plenty of rest soon, Arlette.’ He gave another hollow cough and when it was over he looked at his visitor. ‘I am dying, sir—I’ve been dying ever since I was wounded at Dunbar. I have prayed the good Lord in his wisdom would keep me alive until my son came home. I see now that is not to be.’ He shook his head despondently. ‘Thomas was a scholar. He had no enthusiasm for soldiering.’ His eyes met those of the young visitor with perfect understanding. ‘Tell me what happened to him?’

      William met his eyes and read his need to know. ‘He fares better than most—but his treatment in the hands of his captors will be harsh.’ Glancing sideways at the girl standing across the bed, he saw pain fill her eyes.

      ‘The war has dealt ill with those loyal to the King,’ Sir Isaac murmured quietly, ‘my own family having lost brothers and nephews at one battle or another. My daughter Hester lives in London—she married a Parliament man—a mercer. The marriage caused a bitter divide between us. Arlette and my son are all I have left. May the Lord spare them.’ His skeletal hand reached out to touch his daughter’s cheek with a reverence that did not go unnoticed by William. ‘So—tell me. Where is Thomas now?’

      ‘We were both taken prisoner—along with ten thousand others. We were herded into the cathedral from where we were to be marched to London. I was fortunate. In the mayhem that ensued after the battle I managed to escape.’

      Sir Isaac digested this calmly. ‘How was Thomas? Was he wounded?’

      ‘No—merely exhausted and hungry—but his spirit remains high. Food was scarce. In the final minutes we were together he asked me—if I was able—to come here and assure you that he did not perish in the battle.’

      ‘I thank you for that. It means a great deal to me knowing he survived. As to how he will be dealt with, that is another matter, but even Cromwell’s army will lack the resources to try so many prisoners. But what of you now? I imagine Roundheads will be searching for those Royalists who escaped Worcester.’

      ‘They are. It is my belief that the wars are over, the Royalist cause in ruins. The drawn-out conflict has reduced honest citizens to beggars and no corner of this land has been left untouched by the evils of war. The world as we knew it before the wars has gone. England has suffered enough. It’s my intention to go to France.’

      ‘If Cromwell offers a pardon to Royalists willing to abide by the laws of the Commonwealth, will you accept it?’

      ‘Never.’ A fierce light burned in William’s eyes. ‘I did not enter the fray until my sixteenth birthday and before he was cruelly executed, I fought hard for King Charles the First. I will not give it all up now. His son, King Charles Stuart, has my undying loyalty. It is unthinkable that I desert him. He needs support now more than ever. I expect Arlington Court will be sequestered along with many other properties of those who supported the King.’

      ‘And young Charles Stuart? Where is he?’

      ‘The last I heard he had escaped Worcester, thank God.’

      ‘The day will come when he comes into his own, I am confident of that—and when he does, all that has been stolen from those who remained loyal will be returned. This time will pass.’

      ‘Will it? Do you really believe that?’

      ‘It must. I cannot conceive of the people of England turning permanently against their King. Reason will prevail in the end. I am sure of it.’

      ‘I pray it will be so. There is nothing we can do but wait and see. But I must take my leave of you. Should I be found here it will not go well with you.’

      ‘Three times Roundhead patrols have been here—you will have seen the evidence for yourself. Each time the house was searched. You are right to put as much distance between you and them as possible. But I see you are wounded,’ he said, his gaze going to the blood that had seeped into his doublet. ‘You must have it tended to and take refreshment before you leave, but I have a favour to ask of you and, in the light of what has happened at Worcester and my own weakness, it is most urgent. I am almost at the allotted time on this earth. What matters to me now is Arlette. I fear greatly what will happen to her if she remains here.’ He looked at his daughter with loving but worried eyes. ‘It is my wish that Arlette goes to live with her half-sister in London.’

      Arlette gasped. ‘No, Father. I will not go. Do not ask me to leave here. It’s too cruel. I could not bear it—living in the house of a Parliament man. I am your daughter and my place is here with you.’

      ‘A daughter’s place is to obey her father,’ her father pointed out, his voice softening.

      There was an unusual flush on the girl’s cheeks and the eyes with which she regarded her father were openly defiant. ‘I will not go. Do you really think I would willingly go to safety, leaving you behind to face danger?’

      ‘Understand me, Arlette. Understand why I am doing this. I am unwilling to subject you to any unnecessary suffering should the Roundheads come here—as they will, I am sure of it. I know you haven’t spent much time with Hester during your childhood, but you will be safe with her and, despite our differences, I believe her husband to be a moderate man. She is a woman of integrity and honesty and she will endeavour to do her best for your welfare and protection. Do as I ask, Arlette. I beg you.’ He looked at William. ‘You will take her?’

      William looked at Arlette standing like a miniature statue, feeling her withdrawal from her father. Her dejection pierced his heart. He saw her attempt to struggle to mask her painful disappointment and inexplicable sadness. His gut tightened with the instinctive need to protect her.

      ‘Will you do it?’ Sir Isaac asked.

      William nodded. ‘I will take her,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I will then make my way to the coast and take ship to the Continent. My mother and sister are there already.’

      Having reluctantly agreed to Sir Isaac’s request, to ease his unease and to soothe Arlette’s, William met her eyes and smiled, relieved when she met his gaze unflinchingly. He was encouraged by her quiet display of strength.

      With a need for haste, just one hour later, after William had eaten and had his shoulder tended by the housekeeper,

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