Reunited At The King's Court. Helen Dickson

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       Chapter One

      1660

      Having been summoned by her sister, after spending the morning sitting by the river watching various craft moving along—which always delighted her—Arlette brushed the dried grass from her skirts, straightened her hair and hurried into the house.

      Oaklands House, west of London, was a lovely house. It had been Richard Arden’s family home for generations, built in better, more prosperous times to get away from the plague which descended on the city every year. Its airy halls, parlours and reception rooms were carpeted and tastefully furnished. Beyond the domestic quarters, the buttery, bakehouse and wash house could be found. The gardens were a well-kept delight and extensive, the smooth lawns dropping down to the river’s edge. Hester kept the house in perfect order, ruling the servants with a firm hand.

      The Ardens were hard-working mercers. The family’s substantial business premises were in Spitalfields, where fabrics were stored and trained women and apprentices in leather aprons carried out the work of weaving. Hester’s husband, Richard Arden, a harsh, controlling man, went into the City each day, one of the servants rowing him down river. Devoted to business and administration, not for him was life idle and carefree.

      Richard had prospered in his trade before the wars and because he had declared for Parliament when the troubles began, he had been allowed to continue with his business unhindered, but it had suffered very badly from lack of trade during the Commonwealth. Now King Charles and his courtiers were returning, with nobles and their ladies flooding the capital once more, trade in finer fabrics—brocades from Milan, silks from Lucca and Venetian velvets of supreme quality—would be in demand once more. But that was in the future and Richard had no capital put by to invest.

      Arlette found her sister in the parlour. With more constraints than excesses, when Arlette had come to Oaklands House, she had soon realised that life was not going to be easy for her, but she wearily accepted the way Richard treated her without complaint. In the beginning he had welcomed her into his home with a genuine warmth, glad that Hester would have the company of her sister and to have an extra pair of hands to help with the everyday chores.

      Hester had a desperate yearning for a child of her own. In the early days of her marriage she had lost a child and, as the years went by and she failed to conceive another, being deprived of this natural function enjoyed by most women of her acquaintance had left her feeling deeply disappointed and inadequate in some way as a woman. She was tense at the moment—she had been for days—she was always like this when she was going to visit Richard’s sister, Anne Willoughby, who had a large brood of children, which only exacerbated Hester’s own sorry situation.

      Hester lifted her brows and stared disapprovingly at her sister’s attire, her eyes lingering overlong and with exasperation on a rip in her skirt, caused when it had become snagged on a thorn bush. Arlette was aware of Hester’s displeasure over her friendship with James Sefton—in her sister’s opinion the time she spent with James could be more usefully spent. The Sefton family of Willow Hall were neighbours. With his fair hair and boyishly handsome face, James had a precocious and open manner. Arlette valued his friendship, but their relationship was no more than that. Direct from his travels abroad, he had returned to England ahead of his father, who was to return from his years in exile with King Charles Stuart. His mother, of Puritan stock, had remained at Willow Hall throughout the wars.

      ‘Mary said you wished to speak to me, Hester.’

      ‘I sent for you half an hour ago, Arlette. Have I not enough to do without worrying about you all the time? As you well know we are to travel into the city tomorrow and there are a thousand and one things to be done. Anne and her husband are expecting us in good time. Since we are to stay with them overnight I have much to pack—which is something you can help me with when you have cleaned yourself up.’

      Arlette knew exactly what Hester was thinking when she looked at her. Her pale blue eyes were narrowed with annoyance as she darted sharp disapproving glances at her, having burst into the house shattering the peace. Arlette knew she must present a frightful vision in her stained and crumpled skirts. Shoving the untidy mop of hair back from her face, she sank into a chair in a most unladylike pose, doing little to appease Hester’s displeasure. She prided herself on being intelligent, quick-thinking and sharp-witted, but much as Hester loved her she was always accusing her of being problematical and a constant headache. She heard Hester sigh heavily, as if tired of her burden.

      News had reached them shortly after William Latham had brought Arlette to London that their father had died following a visit from Cromwell’s soldiers searching for Royalists who had fled Worcester after the battle. Like hundreds of Royalist properties, Mayfield Hall had been sequestered by Parliament. Neither of them had been back to Mayfield since, СКАЧАТЬ