Royalist On The Run. Helen Dickson
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no! Do not swear! When you came here you no doubt thought I was ready to forget and forgive what you did to me. In all that has happened in the intervening years, I believe I had forgotten—but you reminded me the moment you walked in the door.’ She gave him a level stare and, not knowing that her words were like knives being thrown at him, she said, ‘There was a time when I trusted you. I was so young and filled with girlish fantasies that I believed we could build a happy life together—something quite wonderful. But you, ruled by an overweening arrogance and pride, betrayed me. I can only say how glad I am that you strayed before we spoke our vows. It spared me a lot of heartache. I weathered the pity of my friends and family because I had lost my intended husband. The humiliation would have been intolerable indeed had you begun an affair when I became your wife.’
Edward had paled, the flesh drawn tight over his cheekbones. Her words created an agony inside him. He wanted to comfort her, to hold her, to say her name, for the thought of her suffering made him wish he hadn’t acted so foolishly over Anne and left her so brutally. ‘I would not have done that.’
‘How can you know how you would have behaved?’ she cried, the pain in her unconcealed. ‘Men make fools of themselves over beautiful women all the time. Anne Lister could not bear not being the centre of attention. Every man had to look at her. All she had to do was cast her eyes at you and you were ensnared.’
He shook his head. ‘Arabella, listen to me.’ Reaching out, he gripped her shoulders and stared down into her face before he went on. ‘With every beat of my heart I regret what I did. I know that you’ve had double your share of troubles for your years. But believe me, I would never wish you harm. Sometimes I can’t help wishing I could go back and do things differently—but then I wouldn’t have Dickon. We cannot change the past.’
She shook his hands from her shoulders and took a step back. ‘I know.’
‘I hurt you. I see that.’
‘I cannot pretend that I wasn’t hurt. I was—very much,’ she said, a sliver of remembered pain spearing her.
‘When I arrived at Bircot Hall and saw you, I was taken aback by how much you have changed. I know I have changed, but I hadn’t expected you to change, too.’
What he said was true. He still had the face of a man in his prime, but the careless good humour had gone from his eyes. They were wary now, with a certain hardness and seriousness in their depths. The change was brought about by all he had seen and done in the long years of war.
‘But I have, in many ways,’ Arabella said. ‘When you left me I thought I would not recover. But I did. I was well and alive. I was determined to put it behind me—I thought of myself as a phoenix, risen from the ashes. Then I was lucky—at least, that was how I thought it was at the time. I met John and I had a child, only to lose them both.’
Tentatively Edward moved a little closer to her, but she stepped back, determined to keep her distance. He could almost feel the tension of her body. Her stillness was a positive force, like that of an animal poised for flight. One false move and he would lose her. He could read nothing on her closed face. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed, but apart from this she was watchful and utterly still.
‘I realise I might have caused you trouble coming here. Believe me, I would not have done so had there been an alternative. When I heard my property was to be confiscated, concerned about my son and despite the risk of capture, I went to London. I found Dickon alone in the house with the servants.’
‘You told me your estate in Oxfordshire has been confiscated.’
He nodded. ‘No doubt the house in London will have been seized by now. All activists have had their estates confiscated. As you know, since Parliament came to power, all lands granted by the King to landlords are now illegal and the laws set by King William have been removed.’
‘And what is to happen to the land that has been taken?’
‘It will be returned to the people. That is what the Commonwealth means—a common wealth for all. Everything of value that I owned went to fund the Royalist cause. This war has made a pauper of me.’
‘This war has made paupers of us all,’ Arabella uttered bitterly.
‘It will be returned when the King comes into his own.’
‘If the King comes into his own. I am not optimistic about that. From what we have heard, few are prepared to join the royal standard. The King, after all, is at the head of a band of Presbyterians. If anything, the patriotic revulsion of the English against the Scots has increased.’
‘You are right, Arabella. But it is a cause I will die fighting for if necessary.’
‘So, with nowhere else to turn, you thought you would bring your son here.’
‘Anne’s brother was in London. It was only a matter of time before he came and seized the child. Before he fled London, knowing my situation, your brother suggested I bring him here, to you. I understand your reluctance to agree to look after Dickon for me, but there is nowhere else I can take him. Will you do it?’ He saw the indecision on her face before she turned to gaze down into the fire.
She turned from him, but not before he had seen a flicker of pain in the depths of her lovely eyes before she looked away. ‘You ask too much of me, Edward. It is too much responsibility.’
‘Come, Arabella. You have just held him in your arms. How can you refuse me this?’ he persisted. ‘Have the courage to help me—or else you are not the woman—’
Spinning round, her face was set stubbornly, the light in her eyes fierce. ‘Your meaning does not escape me. You were about to say I am not the woman you thought I was. If I refuse to do as you ask—which is a perfectly natural thing considering your betrayal—you will think ill of me.’ She shrugged. ‘If you do, why should I care? For too long I have known you do not see me in an attractive light.’
‘That is not true. You are one of the finest people I know. You know my decision to renounce our betrothal was because of my foolish infatuation with Anne, rather than anything to do with you.’ His hand came up to touch her tumbled hair, then he drew a caressing finger down her cheek. Feeling her flinch from his touch, he dropped his arm. ‘I wronged you. At the time I was too stubborn to admit my error. I am asking for your forgiveness, for I know well that you must hate me and in all fairness I cannot blame you. I blame myself—more than you or anybody else possibly could. I’ll never stop blaming myself until the day I die. Which is why, perhaps, it’s so important to me that you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I have grief enough, Arabella. I am saying that I hold you in the highest regard and that my feelings for you may surprise you. Laugh if you will and that will be my punishment. But it is true.’
Arabella’s look was scornful. ‘Please do not make any declarations of devotion that do not exist. It would be an embarrassment to us both, so pray do not continue with this jest. Considering what has gone before, I consider it to be in bad taste.’
‘It is no jest. A thousand times or more I have cursed myself for a fool for ending our betrothal,’ he said softly, his eyes holding hers, full of contrition. ‘Don’t hold it against me. I can’t change what I did and, if it’s any satisfaction to you, I’m paying the price for it. What I did was impetuous and cruel.’
She stared at him, her eyes telling him that she was unable to believe what he was saying. Surely she could hear the truth of his words in his voice? But he could see she refused to be moved by his words. Forgiveness did not come easily to her and in truth he could not blame her. She stepped away from him.
‘Yes, it was, but I have no wish to revisit the past. Do you forget why you are here? You came here to ask me to take care of your son.’
‘And what have you decided?’ Edward tried to keep calm as he waited for her answer, yet the vein in his right temple beat hard against his skin. Arabella had captured his senses without even trying. His interest she had already stirred, but interest turned to intrigue with startling ease. For the first time in months—perhaps