Page 115 of Exile's Return

Daniel laughed, drawing Agnes down onto his knee. ‘In that case, you will be relieved to know Mistress Fletcher has consented to be my wife,’ he said. ‘We’ll be married as soon as it can be arranged.’

After the acclamations of goodwill died down, Daniel turned to Jonathan. ‘How does one get married these days?’

‘There is a registrar in the parish,’ Jonathan said. ‘If you wish to be married at Seven Ways, I know the man. A wedding,’ he nodded approval. ‘A good excuse for some merriment, if any of us can remember how.’

Daniel glanced at Agnes. ‘Seven Ways will suit us. We have nowhere else. My own home is a ruin and I — we — couldn’t impose on Kit.’

Agnes glanced at Kit. Although he carried his right arm in an untidy sling, the night’s sleep appeared to have restored him and he had some colour back on his face.

Kit’s left eyebrow quirked. ‘Why ever not? We have a palace of a house that is only half used. But it is in Hampshire, and if you are anxious to settle the matter, and the Thorntons are willing to put up with you, then Seven Ways it will be.’

Jonathan straightened, and Agnes rose from Daniel’s knee and took the fourth chair.

‘There is still business to be concluded,’ Jonathan’s long fingers tapped the table. ‘What are we to do with the gold now we have it?’

Daniel shook his head. ‘My orders were vague. I was to send word to a man called Mordaunt in London and await further instructions.’

‘Mordaunt?’ Jonathan frowned. ‘Do I know him?’

Kit shrugged. ‘I had some dealings with him back in the uprising of ’48. He is a conspirator of the first order. I’m not surprised he is in on this.’

Jonathan’s mouth tightened. ‘Typical. I’ll send the message this morning and in the meantime, I suggest we return to Seven Ways. We probably have more priest holes than Charvaley and the gold can be secured there until we hear from this Mordaunt. By the time the message has been sent and instructions received there should be ample time to organize a wedding.’

Kit stretched his good arm above his head. ‘An excellent plan, Colonel. I have a yen for your soft beds and good food. I am too old for this rackety life.’

Chapter 50

Seven Ways, Worcestershire 4 December 1659

At the Black Cross in Bromsgrove, Jonathan arranged for a message to go on to Seven Ways ahead of them, so Daniel should not have been surprised at the crowd that gathered in the forecourt for the arrival of the black Elmhurst coach, with Jonathan and himself following on horseback.

As they turned the corner and the house came in view, he drew rein to consider the size of the waiting crowd. He could identify the Thornton clan, but there seemed to be another three women waiting with them.

‘Who are all these people?’ he asked Jonathan.

Kit peered out of the window of the coach.

He groaned. ‘It’s Thamsine,’ he said, ‘and she’s brought the whole household with her.’

As the women came forward, he recognised his mother and his sister and a band tightened around his chest. He, in his turn, had been recognized. Frances, a young woman now, not the girl he had left behind, broke ranks and ran toward him. He all butthrew himself out of the saddle and into the arms of his sister, burying his face in her hair to stop the tears.

‘Daniel Lovell, do you have any idea of what I have been through?’

Daniel looked up. The years had not been kind to Margaret Lovell, her hair now steel grey, but as soon as she spoke, Daniel could see that they had not mellowed her and her tongue was as sharp as ever.

Daniel broke from his sister’s embrace and covered the distance between them, sweeping her up into his arms. ‘Mother, I am so sorry.’

‘Put me down, you foolish boy,’ Margaret protested without anger. He set her on her feet and she looked up at him, her finger tracing the scar across his cheekbone.

‘I had given up hope—’ she began and burst into tears.

Frances flung her arms around both of them, also crying.

‘When you have quite finished,’ Kit’s voice broke through the circle. ‘I have someone else for Daniel to meet.’

Daniel straightened, hoping that the tears that had been wrung from him did not show.

A tall, elegant woman, with her chestnut hair dressed in fashionable ringlets, stood beside Kit, surveying him with her head tilted to one side.