Exile's Return by Alison Stuart Page A

children.’
    Turner raised one ginger eyebrow and indicated his sister. ‘The children will be in the care of my sister, Mistress Fletcher. You may rest in the assurance that they will be in capable and godly hands.’
    The flesh on the back of Agnes’s neck crawled. She didn’t know Turner’s sister, but her acquaintance with the mealy mouthed Turner only increased her fear for the children.
    She turned back to Tobias.
    â€˜What about me? Charvaley was my home … Where am I to go?’
    â€˜Charvaley was only your home by James’s grace and favour. I am under no obligation to you.’ Ashby’s lip curled into a derisive smile. He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her face up. ‘My dear Agnes, you’ve a pretty face. By all accounts you have already bedded an Earl. It shouldn’t be too hard to find yourself another protector.’
    Anger flared and she raised a hand to slap him, but he caught her hand before it connected with his face.
    â€˜Now, now. That will never do. Of course, should you remember details of the matter we just discussed, I may reconsider your position. In the meantime, I gave you my word. You may say your farewells to the children.’ Squaring his shoulders, he turned to the Turners. ‘I want to be away from London before dark. Let us go.’
    ***
    Agnes hunched into the furthest corner of Tobias’s coach like a sparrow caught in a trap, wilting under the unrelenting gaze of Leah Turner. The woman seemed to be enjoying her misery. Beside her Tobias had puffed up like a peacock, the buttons of his coat straining even more. He had gained control of the one thing he probably coveted more than anything, the earldom and estates. True, it was as a trustee only, but he had years before Henry reached twenty-one.
    At the thought of Henry, a band tightened on her heart. It had never occurred to her that she could be separated from the children. Henry was only four, still in petticoats, still a baby. What could she say to them that would ease the parting – for all of them? How could she explain that she would not be returning with them to Charvaley?
    At the sign of the Blue Boar the coach turned into the courtyard, and Agnes dismounted even before the groom could put the footstool down. She took a deep, shuddering breath and, without looking back to see if Tobias and the Turners were following, she returned to the inn room where she had left the children in the care of one of the hostelry maids.
    She stood in the doorway removing her gloves as the children ran toward her. She signed for the maid to leave, which she did with a quick dip of a curtsey.
    â€˜Aunt Agnes!’ At their shrill cries of welcome, her heart broke just a little more.
    In normal circumstances she would have hugged them tight, but she could not bring herself to move. If she touched them, she could never let them go.
    â€˜That’s enough,’ she said, employing a hard tone that drove the nail deeper into her heart. ‘Children, pack your belongings. You are leaving.’
    â€˜Where are we going?’ Lizzie asked. ‘Back to Charvaley?’
    â€˜Yes,’ Agnes answered. She glanced behind her as a shadow darkened the doorway. ‘Cousin Tobias has come to take you home.’
    Henry shrank back against Agnes’s skirts at the sight of Tobias. Behind him, the Turners hovered like dark birds of prey.
    Instinctively Agnes’s hand fell to Henry’s shoulder, drawing his little body against her. He huddled behind her drawing her skirts around him.
    â€˜Are you coming too, Aunt Agnes?’ Lizzie, older and more attuned to the complex undercurrents of adult life, glanced up at her.
    Agnes swallowed and straightened her back, holding her head high. ‘No, Elizabeth. Cousin Tobias is now your lawful guardian.’
    â€˜But I don’t want to go with Cousin Tobias. I want to stay here with you!’ Henry began to