my father’s blessing.’
‘Indeed.’
The servant hurried in with two wooden cups, presenting one to Bess before delivering the other into a trembling hand that had been outstretched since Bess had heard the man’s steps across the hall boards.
‘So your mother raises two boys and one is a hero, the other a traitor,’ Lord Heylyn said, putting the cup to his lips and slurping the warm wine. ‘That’s what you get if you marry without regard to breeding.’ He let that hang in the air between them and Bess got the sense he was testing her, perhaps willing her to take umbrage.
Well, she would not bite.
‘My mother married the man she loved. As I would have done had Emmanuel lived,’ she said simply. ‘My brothers arenot the boys you remember but grown men. They follow their own paths. As for Tom, it is true that he has fought with the rebels, God save his soul, but he has suffered terribly. Hatred and the hunger for vengeance blinded him, Grandfather, as hatred is wont to do to men.’
This barb was well aimed, it seemed, for the old man’s eyes flickered and narrowed further still, and a faint tremor ran through his body from leg to face.
‘You are here about
them
, aren’t you, Elizabeth? Your boys,’ he said, bringing the cup to his lips again, inhaling before slurping more spiced wine. ‘Those devils used to thieve my apples. Damned natty lads.’ He dragged his shirt sleeve across his mouth, leaving a faint red stain on the linen.
‘I need your help,’ Bess said, looking into the flames that leapt in the hearth. And suddenly she felt like a fool on a fool’s errand, for why would this old man, whom she had not seen since she was a little girl, deign to help her? Was she even now (and a mother too) the same callow fool who had encouraged Tom to court Martha Green when she should have condemned the courtship? And look what had come of that.
‘Why would I help you?’ Lord Heylyn asked. She could feel his eyes on her like hot coals, though she yet watched the fire. ‘Your mother turned her back on me many years ago, before you were a mewling red monster at your wet-nurse’s breast. She’s not lacking in gall, your mother, but I
am
surprised she thought sending you here would avail your family anything. I would have said she’d too much pride for that.’
Bess felt as though one of those withered apples were lodged in her throat. She feared that by calling on the earl she might be betraying her mother.
‘My mother does not know that I am here,’ she said. ‘No one does.’
‘And the boy shivering in my hall?’
‘A friend. Joseph Lea. The son of a tenant farmer and now musketeer in the Shear House garrison.’
The thick brow above the earl’s left eye lifted. ‘What elevated circles you move in, girl. You really
are
like your mother.’ Bess did not deny it. ‘She will spit fury when she learns you are here,’ he said, a glint – like the scales of a fish just beneath the water – flashing across his old eyes. ‘I would like to see her face when she finds out.’
‘Will you help me?’ Bess said again.
‘Help you?’
‘See my family whole again.’ It will never be whole again, she thought, fixing her eyes on his. But there was a wound that might be healed. ‘I will bring Tom back. I will see my brothers standing together again as they should be. As they always did.’
‘And you think I can help you in this? You are misguided, girl.’ He drained the cup and reached over to place it on a table, wincing with the movement. ‘Your mother chose Rivers over me.’ He sat back, swiping the air with a big hand, so that Bess got a glimpse of jewelled rings. ‘That was done long ago. You have come here too late. I have no need of you, girl. Wine!’ he roared, slamming a hand onto the arm of his chair. ‘Where the devil are you, Merrett, you damned saunterer? And a member mug. I need to piss!’
‘My father is dead. Does he yet cause you offence?’
‘It is nothing to
‘Indeed.’
The servant hurried in with two wooden cups, presenting one to Bess before delivering the other into a trembling hand that had been outstretched since Bess had heard the man’s steps across the hall boards.
‘So your mother raises two boys and one is a hero, the other a traitor,’ Lord Heylyn said, putting the cup to his lips and slurping the warm wine. ‘That’s what you get if you marry without regard to breeding.’ He let that hang in the air between them and Bess got the sense he was testing her, perhaps willing her to take umbrage.
Well, she would not bite.
‘My mother married the man she loved. As I would have done had Emmanuel lived,’ she said simply. ‘My brothers arenot the boys you remember but grown men. They follow their own paths. As for Tom, it is true that he has fought with the rebels, God save his soul, but he has suffered terribly. Hatred and the hunger for vengeance blinded him, Grandfather, as hatred is wont to do to men.’
This barb was well aimed, it seemed, for the old man’s eyes flickered and narrowed further still, and a faint tremor ran through his body from leg to face.
‘You are here about
them
, aren’t you, Elizabeth? Your boys,’ he said, bringing the cup to his lips again, inhaling before slurping more spiced wine. ‘Those devils used to thieve my apples. Damned natty lads.’ He dragged his shirt sleeve across his mouth, leaving a faint red stain on the linen.
‘I need your help,’ Bess said, looking into the flames that leapt in the hearth. And suddenly she felt like a fool on a fool’s errand, for why would this old man, whom she had not seen since she was a little girl, deign to help her? Was she even now (and a mother too) the same callow fool who had encouraged Tom to court Martha Green when she should have condemned the courtship? And look what had come of that.
‘Why would I help you?’ Lord Heylyn asked. She could feel his eyes on her like hot coals, though she yet watched the fire. ‘Your mother turned her back on me many years ago, before you were a mewling red monster at your wet-nurse’s breast. She’s not lacking in gall, your mother, but I
am
surprised she thought sending you here would avail your family anything. I would have said she’d too much pride for that.’
Bess felt as though one of those withered apples were lodged in her throat. She feared that by calling on the earl she might be betraying her mother.
‘My mother does not know that I am here,’ she said. ‘No one does.’
‘And the boy shivering in my hall?’
‘A friend. Joseph Lea. The son of a tenant farmer and now musketeer in the Shear House garrison.’
The thick brow above the earl’s left eye lifted. ‘What elevated circles you move in, girl. You really
are
like your mother.’ Bess did not deny it. ‘She will spit fury when she learns you are here,’ he said, a glint – like the scales of a fish just beneath the water – flashing across his old eyes. ‘I would like to see her face when she finds out.’
‘Will you help me?’ Bess said again.
‘Help you?’
‘See my family whole again.’ It will never be whole again, she thought, fixing her eyes on his. But there was a wound that might be healed. ‘I will bring Tom back. I will see my brothers standing together again as they should be. As they always did.’
‘And you think I can help you in this? You are misguided, girl.’ He drained the cup and reached over to place it on a table, wincing with the movement. ‘Your mother chose Rivers over me.’ He sat back, swiping the air with a big hand, so that Bess got a glimpse of jewelled rings. ‘That was done long ago. You have come here too late. I have no need of you, girl. Wine!’ he roared, slamming a hand onto the arm of his chair. ‘Where the devil are you, Merrett, you damned saunterer? And a member mug. I need to piss!’
‘My father is dead. Does he yet cause you offence?’
‘It is nothing to
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