The King’s Mistress. Gillian Bagwell

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      An image of the grinning Gypsy flashed into Jane’s mind. She wondered what it would be like to lie with a man, and then wondered whether she would ever find out.

       Oh, Jane, I wish that you were sitting next to me so that I could whisper to you these thoughts and feelings that I blush to write. Nothing would give me more joy than were you to come to visit when I am brought to bed and remain for some time after the baby is born. Though in name I am mistress here, in truth I feel as if I am still the guest of George’s mother. I have no real friends and long for your company.

      I will go, Jane thought. Perhaps Ellen can tell me what I’m waiting for, and whether I’m a fool to wait. There must be some sign she can point to, something that will tell whether I should marry Clement or no.

      She ran to find John and discovered him in shirtsleeves in the stables among a crowd of grooms and stable hands. The big stallion Thunder was out of his box, and the gate was open into the stall where the pretty new dappled mare stood, whinnying and jerking nervously at her halter. The men looked embarrassed to see Jane, and she realised they must be about to put the stallion in to cover the mare, but she was so excited at the prospect of the trip that she couldn’t wait.

      “Ellen wants me to visit her when she has her baby! I so much want to go.”

      The scent of the mare in his nostrils, Thunder blew out a great whuffling breath and reared, and the boy holding his bridle narrowly avoided the slashing hooves.

      “Have a care there, Tom.” John turned briefly to Jane, but his attention was on the horses. “You’ll need a pass to travel, you know.”

      “Oh.” She had not thought of that. “But surely you can arrange it?”

      “I daresay.” He laid a calming hand on the shying mare. “But let’s speak of this later, when I’m at leisure.”

      He sounded impatient, and as Jane made her way back to the house, she realised that perhaps it was because the arrangements for her travel would have to be made with the governor of Stafford. John had been governor of that town, as well as nearby Lichfield and Rushall. But Stafford had fallen to the enemy and the Parliamentary colonel Geoffrey Stone, once John’s friend, was now governor, though even the rebel officers regarded John with respect.

      She had her own reasons for feeling uneasy about a meeting with Colonel Stone. Just before the war had begun, when she was fifteen, young Geoff Stone, then twenty-three, had begun paying court to her. The matter had not gone so far as an engagement, but Jane had liked him very much, as had her family, and it had been painful and embarrassing for everyone when it became apparent they were on opposite sides of a disagreement that would be settled on the battlefield.

      THE NEXT MORNING JOHN POPPED HIS HEAD IN JANE’S BEDROOM door, booted and his coat over his arm.

      “I’ll ride to Stafford today and see Geoff Stone. I don’t think he’ll give us any trouble about letting you visit Ellen. Someone must travel with you, though. I’ll ask him to make the pass for you and a serving man, and we’ll settle later who is to go.”

      “Thank you,” Jane said, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “It means so much to me to see Ellen. And I’m just as glad not to have to see Geoff myself.”

      John was so much older than she that it was almost like having a second father, Jane thought. And while she revered Thomas Lane for his gentle wisdom, John was a big bluff soldier in his prime, and with him she always felt that nothing could hurt her.

      “It’s little enough I can do,” John said. “The wars brought trouble in so many ways, we must find our way back to as many ordinary pleasures as we can.”

      That evening he returned with the precious pass, authorising Mistress Jane Lane to travel the hundred miles from Bentley to Abbots Leigh, accompanied by a serving man.

      “Colonel Stone asked me to send you his compliments and best wishes for a safe journey,” he said. “He’s a good man, for all that I disagree with him about the governance of the country.”

      ON AN AFTERNOON A WEEK LATER, JANE HEARD THE WAGON RUMBLE up the drive and then excited voices in the stable yard. John and her father had set out for Wolverhampton for the weekly market, but they had hardly been gone long enough to accomplish their business. She peered out the window and saw Richard and her cousin Henry listening intently to John, though she couldn’t catch the words.

      She ran downstairs and out the door on the heels of her mother and Athalia.

      “What is it, Thomas, what’s happened?” her mother cried. Her father turned to them, his eyes burning with emotion.

      “King Charles has crossed the border at Carlisle with his army and was proclaimed king at Penrith and Rokeby.”

      Jane’s heart thrilled. Something real was happening, after all the rumour and uncertainty.

      “How many men does he have?” she asked. “Is it the Scots, or has France or someone sent troops?”

      “It’s mostly Scots so far,” John said. “But yesterday the king issued a general pardon and oblivion for those who fought against his father, and is calling on his subjects to join him and fight.”

      He took a printed broadsheet from his coat pocket, and Richard pulled it out of his hands.

      “Dear God,” Jane’s mother moaned. “More war.”

      “But this will be the end.” Richard’s eyes were gleaming. “This is our chance to defeat the rebels for good and all.”

      “Let’s not stand here to discuss it,” John said as a groom took the team of horses by the bridles and led the wagon away. “Come inside and we’ll talk.”

      AS THE FAMILY GATHERED AROUND THE TABLE, SERVANTS EDGED IN from the kitchen to hear the news.

      Jane had seized the Parliamentary Mercurius Britannicus newsbook her father had brought home, and snorted in disgust.

      “They’ve set forth in the most alarming terms every invasion of the Scots since 1071. ‘Un-English’, they call those who would join the king, and say they deserved to be stoned.”

      “Hardly surprising from that source,” Henry said. “But hear what the king says. Read it, Dick.”

      “‘We are now entering into our kingdom with an army who shall join with us in doing justice upon the murderers of our royal father …’”

      “It’s really happening!” Jane cried. “He’s coming to take back his throne!”

      “‘To evidence how far we are from revenge, we do engage ourself to a full Act of Oblivion and Indemnity for all things done these seven years past, excepting only Oliver Cromwell, Henry Ireton, John Bradshaw, John Cooke, and all others who did actually sit and vote in the murder of our royal father.’”

      “That’s only right,” Henry said, to murmurs of agreement.

      “‘We do require some of quality or authority in each county where we shall march to come to us …’”

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