Page 68 of The King’s Man (Guardians of the Crown #2)

I n the cosy parlour, an early fire burned bright in the hearth while outside rain lashed the glass and the wind bent the trees, crushing the heads of the unharvested crops and bringing the day to an early end.

Roger Knott sat by the unseasonable fire, reading his bible.

Rebecca and Rachel sat on a settle opposite him, their heads also bent over bibles.

The Sabbath had always been dutifully observed in the Knott household.

Annie sat by herself in a corner, absorbed in the dolls, an activity forbidden the other girls.

Thamsine smiled as she caught Rachel casting Annie envious glances.

She sat at the table working on some music.

Music had been her solace in the days since Jane’s death and this anthem to honour her sister had become an obsession.

Somewhere in the house, a door crashed. Everyone looked up.

‘Just the wind,’ Thamsine said.

From the corridor beyond the door, she heard heavy footsteps and the door opened. Thamsine looked, ready to berate Stebbings for not knocking.

‘What a pleasant family scene.’

The blood froze in her veins at the sight of Ambrose Morton standing in the doorway in the act of removing his gloves.

Roger’s book fell to the ground, and the two girls looked up with curiosity on their faces as they turned to look at the stranger.

‘’Brose!’ Annie gave a cry of delight and hurled herself at her brother.

‘Hello, Annie,’ Ambrose kissed his sister before disengaging her arms. He took a few paces into the room. ‘Thamsine, my dear. Black is not your colour.’

‘If you came for Annie – ’ Thamsine began but was interrupted by Roger’s hysterical voice as the man rose to his feet.

‘I told you! I warned you!’ Roger pointed a finger at Morton.

Morton glanced at the man, who stood wringing his hands. ‘Sit down, Knott.’ He turned back to Thamsine. ‘I’ve not come for my sister. Just a neighbourly call to see how you are faring in your sad widowhood.’

Roger subsided onto his seat and Ambrose wandered over to the girls. Rachel slipped her hand into her sister’s as he smiled at them and patted Rachel on the head.

‘These must be your daughters, Knott.’

Roger gave a strangled response and Ambrose turned his attention to Thamsine.

Thamsine raised her chin and looked him squarely in the eye.

‘I let Annie stay because she was plainly being neglected at Beverstock,’ she said. ‘I would have thought as she is your only responsibility … ’

‘Don’t presume to lecture me on my responsibilities, Mistress Lovell.

’ The name spat from his mouth while his eyes blazed with hatred.

‘News must travel slowly in this part of the country. The creditors have taken Beverstock. Annie has no home.’ Morton shrugged and his face softened as he looked at his sister.

‘But I suppose I should thank you for the care of her. She is looking well.’

‘Annie is not responsible for your actions, Ambrose.’

Annie looked from one to the other, aware she was being discussed.

‘I haven’t forgotten she helped you escape. That was wrong, Annie.’

He glared at his sister and Annie shrank from his fierce, angry eyes, sensing but not understanding her brother’s displeasure with her.

Thamsine swallowed, fighting to keep control of her voice. She could not let him see how her heart hammered beneath her bodice and her knees felt as if they had turned to water.

‘If you’ve not come for Annie, then why are you here, Ambrose?’

Ambrose reached out and curled a lock of Thamsine’s hair in his finger.

‘That is an excellent question.’

‘He’s here to claim what is rightfully his.’

A woman’s voice came from the doorway and Lucy stepped into the room. Kit’s Mistress Mouse looked pale, travel-stained and weary, a far cry from the bright-eyed creature who had sold Thamsine into the hands of this man.

Ambrose glanced at his mistress. ‘London has become a little … uncomfortable, hasn’t it, dearest?’

‘What do you mean?’ Thamsine demanded.

Ambrose sighed, ‘Too many debts, too many memories. Time for a new start, in a new place.’

‘What do you want, Morton?’ Roger rose to his feet again, his voice strong.

‘Oh, it’s quite simple. I need money to finance my life in France. In short, Thamsine my dear, I want anything of value in this house.’

Thamsine straightened, almost faint with relief. If all he wanted was money, he could take the pictures from the wall.

‘You’re surprised? Did you think I still wanted you?’ He stroked her face. ‘No, you’re soiled goods now. Why would I want you after Lovell has swived you? Pity he’s dead. I would have taken great pleasure in killing him myself. But you make a desirable widow, Thamsine. Mourning becomes you.’

He stepped away from her and removed two pistols from his belt. These he laid on the table before turning back and looking around the room with a genial smile on his face. He sat down on a chair and crossed his legs.

‘I think some refreshments are in order before we discuss the contents of your strongbox. It has been a long, tedious journey, made more so by my companion’s delicate condition.’ Thamsine stared across his head at Lucy, who averted her eyes.

‘You’re with child?’ Thamsine’s barely aspirated words hung in the air. ‘You told me you could not conceive.’

‘Apparently the doctors were wrong. I have conceived.’ She threw aside her cloak, revealing a high-waisted gown below which the swell of her stomach was visible. ‘I am told the child will be born about Christmas,’ she said, lowering herself into a chair with a sigh.

Thamsine did a quick mental calculation. The child must have been conceived in late February or early March when Kit was still with Lucy Talbot.

Oh, Kit, she thought, is there no justice in the world? How could you leave this woman with child and not me?

Ambrose appeared to ignore the tension between the two women as he looked around the pleasant room.

‘And to think this was so nearly mine,’ he said.

His eyes came to rest on Thamsine as Annie crept up next to him and put her hand on his knee.

‘’Brose?’ she said.

With his eyes still fixed on Thamsine, he raised his right hand and hit out at Annie, a brutal blow that flung her several feet.

The two girls shrieked and Rebecca ran to Annie’s side.

‘You hurt her!’ she cried.

‘She may be my sister but she betrayed me in the worst way possible. Stop your snivelling, Annie, or I will hit you again.’

In one swift movement, he rose to his feet and grabbed Rebecca’s arm, pulling her away from the sobbing woman-child.

Roger Knott stood up and took a step towards him. ‘Let her go!’

Morton ignored him. He took Rebecca’s chin in his fingers and forced her face upwards.

‘How old are you, child?’

‘Fourteen … ’ Rebecca’s voice faltered.

Thamsine’s blood ran cold. She recognised the hooded, wolfish look in Morton’s eyes. She had seen it before. Roger gave a strangled cry and took a step towards Ambrose, but without even looking at him, Morton picked up one of the pistols and put it to Rachel’s head. ‘Sit down, Knott,’ he snarled.

‘Let her go, Ambrose.’ Lucy sounded bored. ‘She’s far too young.’

‘I like them young,’ Morton said, but he released the frightened girl, who ran to her father, burying her head in his jacket.

Roger put a protective arm around both his girls, drawing them close.

‘What have you done with the servants?’ Thamsine asked.

‘I’ve locked them up.’

Ambrose toyed with the pistol he held with one hand, while with the other he produced two keys. He placed them on the table beside the other pistol and looked at his mistress. Lucy struggled to her feet.

‘Thamsine, go with Lucy and fetch the contents of your strongbox.’

Thamsine stood her ground. ‘I’ll not leave this room until I have your word that you will not harm anyone in it.’

Ambrose waved the pistol and gave her a pained look. ‘I told you, I’ve no intention of harming anyone. I just want your money.’

He handed Lucy the second pistol. ‘Here, dearest take this.’

‘Do you even know how to use it?’ Thamsine asked as Lucy stood aside to let her out of the room.

The pistol looked ridiculously large in Lucy’s hands, and it took her both hands to hold it steady. The muzzle wavered and Thamsine considered herself at far more risk of an accidental discharge than a deliberate act.

‘The coin,’ Lucy said.

Thamsine led her into the study and lifted the strongbox out from its hiding place beneath the bricks of the fireplace, opening it with the key she carried at her waist. The month’s rent money and the money from the harvest, maybe eighty pounds in all, were worth the price of her freedom.

Lucy took the bags and weighed them in her hand.

‘Is this all?’ Her eyes glittered greedily.

‘Yes, that’s everything.’

‘What about jewellery, silver?’

‘There’s no silver. It all went to the King’s cause, as did the jewellery,’ Thamsine said. ‘I am not as rich as Ambrose supposes.’

Lucy regarded her with cold, narrowed eyes. ‘Why do you suppose Kit Lovell married you? Don’t delude yourself it was for love. He sought wealth.’

Thamsine smiled. ‘The reasons Kit married me are long and complicated, Lucy, and I have no intention of sharing them with you.’

Lucy’s lower lip trembled. ‘You know he would have been a Viscount. I would have had his title.’

‘Instead, you have ended up penniless and pregnant and beholden to a man who I know is a monster. There is a just God after all.’

The pistol shook. ‘You don’t understand, Thamsine. Ambrose and I … ’

‘ … are birds of a feather, Lucy. Kit would never have married you and you know it.’

Tears welled in Lucy’s eyes and she took one hand off the pistol to dash them away.

It occurred to Thamsine at that moment that Lucy may actually have loved Kit, but she could find no pity in her heart for this woman who had betrayed her to Ambrose Morton and stood by while he had beaten and crippled Kit.

No, Lucy had got the reward she so richly deserved.