Page 70 of Exile's Return

‘You are too hard on yourself, Agnes. What more selfless act could you have performed for your sister, or your child?’

Agnes lowered her head. ‘If James hadn’t died—’

He tightened his grip. ‘But James is dead. He chose his path. You are now all those children have.’ He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. ‘I wish I had an ounce of your selfless spirit, Agnes.’

She laughed and pulled her hand away. ‘Selfless? I think not. The day is wasting, Daniel, and if we want to be at Preston by nightfall, we should be on our way.’

Chapter 30

Charvaley Castle, Lancashire 27 November 1659

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, hesupposed. 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.’