Exchange of Love, page 24
CHAPTER 32
It was early when Penny awoke alone in the bed she shared with Edward back at Peverell House. Dim morning light filtered between the heavy ornate bed hangings, hardly brighter when they were drawn back. Out of bed, she wrapped a thin gown over her nightdress and crept into the adjoining bedroom, sometimes used by Edward if she were too restless for him to sleep.
The spare bed was untouched; he had not slept there. Thudding sounds reached her and she moved back into their room, crossing it to look down from the latticed window. Below in that part of the garden they called the exercise yard, Edward was hacking at a thick pole with his heavy sabre, practising his sword cuts like a man possessed by fury. Dressed in simple breeches and a white shirt, he looked such a vigorous, manly figure. She liked to see him with his fashionable shoulder length hair tied back when he practiced fencing. He stopped, changed his sword over, and renewed his attack with the left hand.
Penny dragged on the soft leather breeches she used for riding, threw a simple dress over the top, and hastily bundled her long hair into a mop cap. Stopping only to grab coats and her box of pistols, she started off down the stairs to join Edward.
“Ah! Best of wives!” he called jovially as he saw her approach. “I hope I did not wake you?”
“Not at all. I noticed you were up early and came to join you.” He grabbed Penny in a bearlike embrace and she felt a surge of passion. “Will you shout the hit points for me?” he asked, releasing her from his grasp.
She agreed and began to shout, “Cut heart, cut throat, left leg, lunge quarte.”
At each order Edward used the point or edge of his sword to strike at the post in the relevant body position.
“Change hands! Lunge tierce, head…” she continued, until he was sweating and blowing with exhaustion.
“Enough,” Edward called out, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “My arm is numb with the shock. I would have killed twenty men!”
“Number twenty-one kills you, then,” Penny said with a laugh, picking up one of the lighter practice foiled rapiers from the stand he had brought out from the house. “Now you are warmed up, I think you need to practice some finesse.” Holding up her skirt she lunged towards him viciously.
He darted back, whipping up his sabre in an attempted parry. He had been half expecting something like that, but was still too slow, and the buttoned point of the rapier struck high up on the chest. Off balance, he almost fell as she tripped on her long skirt.
“All right, madam,” he roared in mock fury, “to the death!”
“No, sir, best of three hits. I need you as a husband, even if your fencing is poor.”
She was using a belt to hitch up her skirt to a more convenient knee length when Edward prodded her behind with his own foiled sword.
“Now we are equal – one hit each!”
It was fast and furious, and for all Penny’s guile and skill, he won as usual.
“Some men would let their wives win,” Penny yelled as Edward’s deadly lunge sent her staggering backwards at the end of their final bout.
“Most condescending if they did. But then I know of no other wife who would make their husband sweat to get the last hit.”
Penny handed him the jacket and long top coat she had brought from upstairs. “Wrap up or you will take a chill.”
“I thought breakfast?” he replied, but struggled into the enveloping clothes. Then he pulled her to him for a kiss.
“In good time, at our normal time, sir. First, I will practise my shooting. As a treat, I will let you load for me.”
“Grand lady, how can I thank you? Can I stand up the targets, too?” Edward joked.
Some time, and much burned gun powder later, they were seated at breakfast when Richard York, the butler and house manager, entered the dining room.
“I beg your pardon for interrupting, sir, madam, but there is a visitor and his servant in the yard outside. A Mr Marcus Bragg. I believe you know him?”
“Most well. Why did you not invite him in as a friend? See his servant has food and drink.”
“I did invite him in, sir. Mr Bragg said he needs to speak to you before entering your house.”
“Some jest on his part?” asked Penny.
“I think not, ma’am. He seemed most serious – almost fearful.”
Edward stood up hastily, scraping his chair on the wooden floor.
“Then I will go down at once, even if my eggs grow cold!” To Penny he said, “I’ll bring him up directly, do not wait to finish.”
Edward swiftly descended the stairs, leaving Penny to her breakfast.
“What-ho, Marcus,” he bellowed. “What’s this nonsense to stand on my threshold like a stranger?” He was about to ask if Marcus had come with a challenge but the joke died in his throat when he saw his friend’s face. “What is it? Bad news?”
“The worst, in some ways,” Marcus replied, and blurted out, “I have deserted the king’s cause.”
“What? Declared for parliament?” said Edward in total disbelief. “You were so staunch.”
“I have not joined the rebels; I have petitioned parliament’s pardon for fighting against its authority. I declared I will support neither side and have agreed to pay a fine for my liberty and safe return to my estates.” He waited for Edward’s reaction. None came and Marcus added, “I would not enter your house under pretence of still being a friend until you knew what I had done.”
Edward stared at Marcus with incredulity, finally saying, “You do not fight for parliament?”
“No.”
“Then come in and join Penny and me at our breakfast table.” To the butler he said, “See that Mr Bragg’s man is taken care of, and have their horses led to the stable.”
“Thank you, Edward. Thank you. I felt—”
“Not another word until we are upstairs. Penny will want to know all. And, most importantly, how are Jacinda and the children?”
Edward and Marcus made their way through the imposing hall and back upstairs to the breakfast table where Penny waited for them.
“We are still friends? You do not exclude me from—”
Edward held up his hand. “No, not unless you actively aid parliament, like that traitor Strode who led the commoners to rebel.”
It took Marcus some time to explain what he had done and why he had abandoned King Charles. Without being asked, Richard York brought in a mug of small beer and a plate for their visitor. A parlourmaid followed with more food.
“After the battle of Naseby, I knew that all was lost,” Marcus continued. “Cut off from my estate in Hampshire, I had no money left to support me in the king’s fight.” He looked imploringly at Edward. “You know that although I rode with the cavalry, I am no warrior. There is nothing else I could add.” His voice trailed off dejectedly.
Edward looked at the slight man in what had been overly flamboyant clothes, now soiled and worn from hard campaigning. “No one can doubt you, Marcus,” he said kindly. “You have fought in every battle from Edgehill to the defeat at Naseby. No man could have done more.”
“I have no gift for command,” said Marcus. “I just followed along to do my—” He broke off, too emotional to continue. “You cannot believe how it was at Naseby, Edward. We charged Cromwell’s men; they halted us with pistol shot. We rallied, moved forward, and they fired their second pistols. Then that villain shouted ‘in God’s name we will prevail’, and they charged our broken ranks. And where was Rupert? Plundering the baggage. Christ, Edward, it was carnage. All my companions – Ephron, Thomas, Percy – all friends from Peterhouse at Cambridge.” Marcus took a gulp from his mug, trying desperately to shake off those haunting, terrible images of injured and dying men.
“I knew them all,” said Edward sadly.
“Good men, all killed while I, the philandering rogue—”
“I have seen war, I know how it is,” said Edward sympathetically. “A normal man can only endure so much.”
Penny moved over to the more comfortable armchairs placed before the window, indicating one to Marcus who was pleased to stretch his legs out in the warming sunlight.
“Are Jacinda and the children well?” she asked, trying to break the mood of despair.
“Aye, well and thriving,” muttered Marcus. “I had not seen little Benedict. He was born while I was with the army. God, I have been a poor husband and father. After the battle I thought, why have I lived when so many good fellows died? And then, I must make amends; get home, be a good man, get the estate in order… all that.”
“I am surprised how little the Parliamentarian assessor fined you,” said Penny. “I thought it would be much more punishing.”
“Their aim is not to punish; not at this time. They want to take gentlemen like us out of the war. I had to swear an oath on the bible not to support the king.”
“You swore an oath on the bible?” chortled Penny. “You are more of a heathen than Edward. How many times have you sworn to Jacinda that your latest adventure would be the last? No more philandering, no wenches ruined?”
“Stop, Penny, please.” Marcus looked mournful. “You know my past faults, but now I am reformed.”
“Until the next comely wench appears,” grinned Edward, walking over to join them. “But will you change sides back to ours if fortune swings to the king?”
“No. If parliament finds I have aided the king I would be hanged!”
“As may we all be,” added Edward bitterly. He removed his light brown jacket and placed it over the back of his chair, thinking sadly of all the wasted effort. “My role at Bristol and financing the king this last half year will not be easily forgotten.”
“Enough of this self-pity, the two of you!” said Penny. “Marcus, you have the fair Jacinda and the children, now.”
“The love of my life!”
“Nonsense, Marcus,” interjected Edward vehemently. “You use her like a—” He faltered for a word.
“A good wife,” suggested Penny. She beckoned the maid to clear away their cups and then offered some early apples to Edward and their guest. “But come, Marcus, you got her with child and then abandoned her for that Flemish widow.”
“But I did return to marry Jacinda,” pleaded Marcus.
“Only when her father and brothers tracked you to Dover and challenged you!”
“There were three of them,” grinned Marcus, totally unabashed as he sliced some apple. “And her father did offer a generous settlement, payable after the baby was born and if it lived for one year.”
“How many times have you vowed to be true to Jacinda and then broken that vow?” asked Edward. He took up his pipe and began to light it carefully, enjoying the banter between them.
“Shush, Edward,” said Penny. “We live in evil times. All of us have broken vows of fidelity,” she said, staring into his eyes, “and have been completely forgiven.”
Edward lowered his gaze away from her directness. “It is my deepest wish—” he started to say.
“To be forgiven,” repeated Penny. “Looking into the eye of death or being driven to despair can cut one off from normal virtue.”
“As if you could know,” said Marcus. “You are safe here in Peverell.” He lapsed into a reverie. “At Naseby when we charged at their line, a musket was levelled at my face. I could see down the barrel. From twenty yards away I saw the match fall onto the pan; saw the sparks. It did not fire. The change from elation to terror in the man’s face as I rode him down… It was him or me; my sword or his gun. That night, despite our defeat, I feasted and drank. I celebrated being alive and paid to lie with a tavern whore.”
“Stop it, Marcus,” interrupted Penny. “We all know you are a philanderer, we need not have the details.”
“The experience changed me, Penny, it truly has.”
“Like when you had to fight a duel with Sir Rodney Palister? Was it his wife or his sister you seduced?” said Edward with a laugh. “I remember then you vowed you would reform.”
“He forgave me,” stated Marcus, “and up to a point I kept my word. This was different.”
Penny stretched out her hand to Marcus, hoping to show some understanding and acceptance of his wandering behaviour. “I too have come close to violence and death,” said Penny softly. “It changed my view of many things.”
Edward nodded. “I too. We have all lost good friends.”
“Next morning I deserted and rode home,” continued Marcus. “The two youngest boys don’t know me; the estate is in ruins; my bailiff is a lazy rogue. I cannot help the king anymore, and I have no money.”
“Hard times indeed,” commented Edward.
“You have no assets to sell?” asked Penny.
“Some jewellery of Jacinda’s, if we could find a buyer.”
“I could help there,” suggested Edward. “We have contacts in France.”
Marcus shook his head wearily and Edward noticed how lined and grey his friend’s face had become lately.
“Also, and most immediately, there is un-threshed corn in ricks, and last year’s wool clip.”
“The wheat and barley should be fine,” commented Edward, and poured out a second measure of beer for Marcus from a jug on the sideboard.
“I have tried to put all in hand,” said Marcus, drinking his beer greedily. “The corn is threshing well, but some fleeces are rotting – the ones on the lowest racks in the barn. I have set the labourers to work sorting out those still good.” He looked directly at Edward. “That is why I came to you – I will have near on a thousand fleeces to sell—”
“There is little market,” cut in Penny. She turned to Edward noticing his strong features, admiring his steadfastness. She loved him dearly, and a warmth stole over her. She patted his arm and he looked towards her, realising her longing. It was difficult to pull those thoughts away, to change their focus on Marcus and his troubles. “If we meet Oliver Ransom’s order for cloth, we will have little left. Marcus’s fleeces, if they be good, could be washed, spun and woven to refill our stock.”
“Oliver Ransom?” asked Marcus suspiciously. “He is for parliament?”
“To the hilt,” agreed Edward. “That is why we hold back on the trade. Our cloth would go to Painswick, near Gloucester. There it would be dyed, and sewn into uniforms for Cromwell’s New Model Army.”
“God’s teeth!” exclaimed Marcus. “I have surrendered the cause but will not help our enemies.”
“Not with warlike stores,” said Penny. “I would not countenance that. Providing breeches and coats will not help them fight. With all the disruption of war, cloth is in short supply. We turn a profit at Cromwell’s expense.”
“Little chance it will hurt his finances,” said Edward with a groan. “London pays for all!” Explaining the arrangements, he continued, “Oliver Ransom is a man to be trusted. He agreed half payment in advance of delivery. I will pay full price for your wool as soon as I receive money from Ransom, possibly a little more.”
“Thank you. Thank you with all my heart,” exclaimed Marcus, extending his hand to shake Edward’s gratefully. “I could pay my fine and start setting the estate in order.”
“Grain prices are high,” said Penny. “Once your corn is threshed it will sell well.”
“You have saved me from ruin.” Marcus smiled wanly, finishing off his beer.
“Not quite,” said Penny. “There is a condition.”
Edward and Marcus looked confused.
“Your wife makes your deals, does she, Ed?”
“It is why I am solvent and others are destitute,” laughed Edward. “My French trade depends on her.”
“You must undertake to be true to your wife, my friend, Jacinda,” said Penny with a smile, but her voice was serious.
“I have sworn so already,” said Marcus with feigned solemnity. “Do you want me to swear on the book?”
“That would mean nothing, you heathen,” commented Edward.
“What, then?”
“Your hand to your friend, and your promise,” demanded Penny.
Shaking his head and sighing slightly, Marcus stood up and looked out of the elegantly draped windows, taking in the rich countryside of the Peverell estate. “Mistress Peverell – Penny,” said Marcus, “I think you make too much of this. The demure Jacinda, the fine lady who sings exquisitely and dances with grace, has had more lovers than I’ve ever had.”
“Never. This is slander, sir. Your wife—”
“My wife is at home surrounded by admirers while I sleep under hedges or in cow barns with the army.”
“And you accept her infidelity?” asked Edward, shocked. “You could be cuckolded, raising another man’s children as your own.”
“Never!” laughed Marcus. “We both take precautions in our separate adventures. Protection from disease and unwanted children.”
“These protection things – are they the sheaths of—” Penny started to say.
Edward interrupted quickly. “Please, Penny! Is this seemly talk for a respectable married woman?”
“Come, come, Edward, do not be so coy. We played with these things before our marriage and on honeymoon,” she said with a laugh. “Marcus will think you a prude.”
“I know otherwise,” cut in Marcus, “from the stews of Cheapside to the ‘backs’ of Oxford.”
“Before I was married,” snarled Edward dangerously. “Before I met my wife.”
“The old ‘Wild Ed’ lurks underneath,” grinned Marcus. “I apologise, and will watch my talk, madam.”
“My wife knows all my past, Marcus. It is left well behind me.”
Penny gave him a meaningful stare, thinking of The Crown Inn and the violence Edward had shown to their attackers in France. Strangely the idea of the ‘Wild Ed’ did not engender revulsion, more a sense of excitement. It was a pity that she had no wild past to look back on. Thoughts of Jacinda’s adventures and of John holding her in a passionate embrace came unbidden. She blushed and turned her face slightly, hiding her disquiet.
