The Rebel’s Daughter by Anita Seymour Page A

“They talked about buying muskets. It was
the ribbons that made Father angry.”
    “ Ribbons?” Distracted, Bayle loosened the reins, allowing
the cart to slow a little.
    Helena nodded. “Father gave me some coin
and sent me to look round Taunton Market. I bought that
leather-bound journal you insisted I leave behind. I also bought
some ribbons in a shade of emerald green that the stallholder said
would suit me. I returned to the inn and showed them to Father
before dinner.
    “ What
did he say?” Bayle asked carefully.
    “ It was
what Mr Trenchard said that I remember. “Green ribbons eh? How
appropriate” he said it in this loud, braying voice like a private
joke and pounded Father on the shoulder. Father was furious. He
didn’t say so, but I could see it in his face.”
    “ Did
anything else happen on this journey?” Bayle asked, giving her the
impression he knew more about this man than he had
revealed.
    “ When we
left the next day, Master Trenchard bowed over my hand and when I
said I hoped we would meet again, which wasn’t entirely truthful as
I didn’t much take to him.” She caught Bayle’s wry grin and
shrugged. “Anyway, he punched the air with his fist and
said, “Most
assuredly, for we have fellows in scarlet to take off, do we not
Jonathan?” He
didn’t even lower his voice. An expectant hush spread over the inn
yard as everyone stopped to listen.”
    “ I doubt
Sir Jonathan would have been pleased about that.”
    “ He
wasn’t.” Helena snorted at the memory. “He was livid. His face was
just an inch away from Master Trenchers when he snarled at him,
something like, Hush man, you don’t know who may be
listening! ” She
swallowed and released a long breath. “I didn’t understand what it
all meant. Not then.”
    “ Does it
all make more sense now?”
    She nodded. “Father had been planning this
for months, hadn’t he? All those night visitors he didn’t want us
to see. Do you know who they were?”
    “ Some of
them, perhaps, though it’s best I don’t mention any
names.”
    “ Suppose
the soldiers come to Loxsbeare when we are gone?”
    He didn’t reply, his attention ostensibly
on guiding the horses around a hay cart blocking the
road.
    “ What
will Mother and Henry do if that happens? They can’t fight the
King’s army.” Awful possibilities crowded her head, the least of
which was their being dragged away in chains. She bit her bottom
lip, hard enough to draw blood, horrified for not having considered
this eventuality before. She had left her home without a thought,
in search of her father, but the parent for whom she should have
been caring was now alone. Lumm was there…if she could trust
him.
    “ Don’t
fret, Miss Helena.” Bayle took one hand from the reins and briefly
squeezed hers. “They’ll be gone by tonight, your mother and
Henry.”
    “ Gone?
Gone where?”
    “ To the
Ffoyles. That is the arrangement.”
    “ Father
knew this would happen?” Suddenly everything fell into place.
Samuel’s visits to Loxsbeare, his private talks with Lumm, and
probably Bayle too.
    “ Sir
Jonathan was always committed to the Duke of Monmouth’s cause,
never doubt that.” Bayle flicked the reins to hurry the lethargic
horses along
    “ But he
thought the cause might fail?” Anger bloomed and grew inside her
chest. If
so, how could he have left us like he did?
    “ Is that
why Samuel Ffoyle didn’t go to Lyme when Monmouth landed? Because
he didn’t believe in it? Why didn’t he try to persuade Father not
to go?”
    “ Master
Ffoyle is not a Monmouth man, but that doesn’t mean he could turn
your father from his own beliefs.”
    She twisted in her seat to face him. “He
should have tried harder!” her anger made her unreasonable. “He
told me himself he had forbidden his sons to join the rebels. A
decision he must be grateful for now.”
    “ Not
Monmouth’s, perhaps.” He arched an eyebrow at her. “But he is Jonathan Wolfe’s
man. Master Ffoyle