Название: Reunited At The King's Court
Автор: Helen Dickson
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Исторические любовные романы
Серия: Mills & Boon Historical
isbn: 9780008901219
isbn:
‘I can’t take you with me, Arlette. I am going to join the King in France. With my father dead and the rest of my family in France, my estate in Warwickshire seized by Parliament and myself declared a traitor, I have no choice.’
‘But you will come back, won’t you?’
‘Perhaps—in time. But I will not return to England while it is ruled by Cromwell.’ Seeing the pain in her eyes, he placed his hands on her young shoulders and bent down so that his face was on a level with hers. ‘It is right that you are here with your sister.’ As he held her from him, his look was earnest. ‘You do understand why I have to go, don’t you?’
She nodded, swallowing down the lump in her throat and blinking back the tears that threatened to flow from her eyes at any moment. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘But you won’t forget me, will you?’
‘You have become very dear to me, Arlette. I could never do that.’
Giving him a teary smile, she backed away from him. ‘Wait a moment. I have something for you.’
William watched her scamper off, then, hearing a horse’s hooves clattering on the cobbles, he saw her leading Hector towards him. He smiled.
‘What have we here?’
Arlette glanced at the pathetic-looking horse her sister had managed to find for him, which Arlette rejected. ‘I want you to have Hector.’
‘But Hector was your father’s horse. I cannot take him.’
‘I want you to have him. I know it is what my father would have wanted. Besides, Hector likes you. I know you will take care of him.’
With emotion almost choking him, William wrapped her young body in his strong arms and hugged her hard, then he took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead.
‘Goodbye, Arlette. I wish you joy and happiness and luck in your life. May God bless you.’
‘William,’ she said as he turned from her. He looked back with a questioning look. ‘Be careful, won’t you?’ she said hoarsely. ‘With your life.’
He was silent a moment and then said, ‘Of course I will. Why? Why would you say that? Is it precious to you?’
She nodded slowly. ‘Yes. Will I see you again?’
He smiled. ‘I do have a habit of turning up when least expected. Perhaps I may have cause to come and visit you in London—or better still at Mayfield Hall when all this is over. Would I be assured of a welcome in your house?’
‘There will always be a welcome for you, William—no matter where I am.’
Lowering his head, he turned and walked away. Arlette watched him, wanting to say something more, but she couldn’t. The words were trapped in her throat and tears welled up in her eyes. She had been aware that one day he would have to leave her, that his presence in her world was transitory. But it had come too soon. Sorrow and emotion swamped her, wrenching at her heart. He left her then and she watched him ride away. All that remained of his solid presence was the trace of a light kiss on her forehead, the image of his back and the painful noise of Hector’s receding hooves.
Hester came to stand beside her, placing her arm about her shoulders.
‘Will he come back?’ Arlette asked in a low voice.
‘As to that I cannot say.’
Her desolation was as acute as when she had left Mayfield Hall. ‘He has to come back,’ she whispered to herself. ‘He has to. I couldn’t bear it if he didn’t.’
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 СКАЧАТЬ