Exchange of Love, page 8
“I must get back to my room. Sir Nicholas Stanning will be calling early.”
“Not yet, sir. A man cannot prove his gallantry by standing fire just the once. I feel the pistol is reloaded.”
CHAPTER 10
It was a weary and elated Edward Peverell who, with ten of his mounted dragoons, clambered down off his horse in the courtyard of Peverell House. Despite his frequent letters to Penny over the last month, he had not been able to send her advance news of his homecoming. She came running from the house.
“Edward!” she exclaimed in delight. “I am so pleased.”
They embraced until the titter of Edward’s men persuaded them to part.
“Wife,” he whispered, “I am going to take you straight upstairs to bed.”
“Not without bathing and shaving first. You stink of sweat and horse and gunpowder, and God knows what else.”
“And so to bath, not bed? In that case, while water be heated, I will feast on honest food, not marching rations nor sustenance plundered from our foes.”
Feasted, bathed and bedded, it was not until mid-evening that Edward and Penny settled to talk seriously. Both were in their nightclothes; she with a small glass of cider, he with his pipe and tankard of ale.
“Two tankards of ale in one day,” she had chided him. “You will be a drinker yet!”
“It is but small beer, not enough to dent my reason or my manhood.”
“I had noticed,” she grinned. “But I fear you are not in the merriest of spirits. The war goes well for us. Most of the west is now for the king?”
“Aye. After Prince Maurice’s brilliant victory at Roundway, Rupert feels he can march on Bristol, but we are buying every victory at great cost in men and horses.”
Penny cuddled up to Edward. “The assault on Bristol will go badly, you believe?”
“It will be the worst yet. Rupert is determined to make a glorious frontal assault on the Northern Forts. He has enough men to eventually overrun them, but there will be carnage during the attack. Then Sir Nathaniel Fiennes will just surrender and ask for honourable terms.”
“Is there no alternative, a chance to be more cautious?” she asked gently, getting up to fetch him fresh tobacco.
“I travelled into Bath with Prince Maurice and General Hopton. Now, with Waller’s captured cannon, we have a battery of sixteen guns. The largest are only demi-culverin, but in a few days we could reduce the whole of Bristol’s southern city wall to rubble.”
“And then storm the breach?”
“Not really. We could reduce the southern wall from the river to the gate. The whole army could flood in. Outnumbered ten to one, Fiennes will ask for terms long before that.”
“What will you do now?” she said quietly, hugging him close.
“Spend a few days at home with you, check on things in the estate, and then back to Bath and on to Bristol.”
“Why?”
“One way or another, Bristol will fall to us – I have knowledge of trade and manufacture. We can organise the workshops and foundries to produce weapons for the king’s army. There must be more guns for the musketeers. Hopefully support from France will arrive into the port.”
“Have you heard of this puritan, Cromwell?”
“Aye, he comes from your part of the country. Member of parliament for Huntingdon, I believe. A godly man well regarded by the townsfolk.” Edward’s voice trailed off.
“He is now a commander of horse for parliament. My sister wrote some months ago and mentioned him.”
“Did she say anything of a military nature?”
“Of course not,” Penny said with a smile. “Rita is more interested in family than fighting. Is this Cromwell important?”
“I think he will be. He is very dangerous. Everything Prince Rupert is not: disciplined, cautious, and a master tactician. His horse and a regiment of foot held up our whole army for over a day in their fighting retreat near Lincoln. The men are well-equipped with pistol and sword, they train tirelessly, and men of ability are given command in preference to idiots with rank.”
“Come, Edward, do not be so dour. Lincoln did fall to the king, didn’t it?”
“It did, and Cromwell’s withdrawal cost us two thousand men. He lost less than two hundred. We cannot—”
“I know, Edward, you have said. Did you also say each of his ordinary troops has a pistol?”
“Two! The best horse pistols. Like the ones I carry. They also have breast plate and helmet.”
“But the cost… where does the money for all of this come from?”
“London, mainly. London craftsmen and merchants pump money into the parliament cause. They raise ‘trained bands’ of pike and musket to defend the city and provide paid recruits for the army. It’s to match them that we must improve our musketeer numbers.”
They sat huddled together in gloomy silence.
“We’ve had a successful year in the field,” Edward murmured. “If a costly one. But if we cannot win or come to terms with parliament in the next twelve months, then we will lose the war outright. Courage and loyalty will not be enough to match the money and manpower of London and the south.”
“Is money, then, the key to this war?”
“The key and the cause. The king has never had sufficient from parliament to meet his needs, his extravagances.”
“He has been a spendthrift, it’s true,” said Penny, “but he had to support the Protestant nations of Holland and Germany against France and Spain.”
“The world is mad,” stated Edward. “The Protestant rulers that our King Charles helped now support parliament. And the Catholic king whom he opposed shows support for him.”
Penny got up from his lap and asked softly, “When do you leave, my love?”
“In two, possibly three days,” he replied.
“In that time we must finish collecting up all we can spare that is of value and transport it to Bath. As we planned, we must sell some of our surplus to raise money for the king’s cause before any panic starts and values begin to fall. There will be little enough, but if all good families did this it would help to re-arm the foot regiments.”
Edward nodded sadly. “But we sell only half now. The other half should be hidden for our future need or bad times.”
They held each other in solemn quiet for some time.
“Wife,” Edward said softly. “I have changed my plan.”
Penny looked up at him in confusion.
“I’ll leave early tomorrow.”
“But why? Edward, don’t say—”
“You will stay here until all is in order, and then I would want you to join me in Bath.” He caressed her hair and swept a curl away from her eyes. He cared for her so much but the king’s affairs were urgent. “I fear our time together is precious and I want you with me in Bath. At first, I shall lodge with Master Finch, my agent, and then rent a house or rooms for your arrival as soon as possible.”
“At least tonight we are together.”
Penny Peverell enjoyed lying peacefully in bed with Edward. She also enjoyed and joined in enthusiastically with the activities that preceded lying peacefully in bed, but this was very nice: the cool summer morning sun streaking in through the window, crimson and yellow silk bed-hangings thrown back, Edward sleeping beside her.
It was like living with a furry bearskin rug that she could snuggle into. She had often wondered if she could fashion miniature plaits on his chest and under his armpits. From the gossip shared with other ladies and female cousins, she believed that this surfeit of hair was rather exceptional. His ardour and energy in bed (and any other convenient places) also seemed to be above the norm. A friend expressed some sympathy to her situation and suggested that Edward treated her like a tavern whore. Penny had replied that she had no knowledge of tavern whores, but was most grateful for her husband’s attentions.
That morning, as on many others, she reached down under the bed covering and started to gently stroke him into wakefulness. Were his feelings for her love or lust? She had no idea, but as long as his attentions were constant and intense, she didn’t care. If she were recovering from her fourth pregnancy, as was Cousin Ede, it may be different, but there were many ways to enjoy love without conceiving an unwanted child. How she would like to be in that state. Yet despite all their endeavours, there were no children.
Edward was now awake, and greedily pulled her to him. How could one man give her so much pleasure?
There was a discreet but insistent rap on the door of their chamber. Carol the maid called out, “Madam, master, it is past seven o’clock.”
“God’s teeth. What of that?” muttered Edward as he kissed Penny and fondled her bosom.
“Madam, there is a messenger for Sir Edward in the hall. I believe the master is needed in Bath.”
“Give him breakfast and some ale. My husband is fatigued and needs to sleep on.”
Penny imagined Carol giggling as she tripped away. Second eldest of five children, who lived in a one-roomed cottage on the estate, she knew exactly how life was between husband and wife.
CHAPTER 11
John would not be seeing Judith until the following weekend. Simon was free for a few days, and he and Judith were supposedly spending the weekend with their father, discussing his treatments and such, though John anticipated there would be more arguing than anything else. Still, her absence left John to doze away the Saturday morning. At least, that had been his plan. Unfortunately for him – or some might say fortunately – he awoke early from the most erotic dream ever. He was with Penny in a hotel room and…
At first, he tried to get back into his dream with Penny, but it would not work. Later, fully awake, John made his decision: he had to force the issue with Penny. Sod changing the past or anything else. He was going back to Peverell to make love to her.
He had seen Penny several times and each visit had been more intimate. There had been real passion between them on their last meeting as she sat, skirt hitched up astride his knee, working herself into an ecstasy of excitement. Any red-blooded man should have rolled her over and had full sex with her. Faithfulness to Edward, loyalty to marriage vows. Yet if he had pushed the point, he was sure she would have enjoyed giving in to him. Showered, shaved and dressing carefully, he chose sandals, smart chino shorts and t-shirt – as little as possible. Judith and her father would be at the hospital, and no one else was working on site. The Great Hall would be sunlit and empty.
It was strange entering Peverell House when there were no other people present. The emptiness seemed to add to an air of decay and irrelevance to the modern world. As John walked through the abandoned spaces and climbed the servants’ stairs to The Great Hall, some of his resolve and ardour evaporated, and many doubts began to enter his mind.
There was no dramatic change or the sensation of the room sliding back into the past as it had before– it was as if he had just naturally walked from his work into 1643. Instead of a forlorn dusty emptiness there was the same opulent decor and furnishing. In John’s time the weather had been dingy and overcast; here in 1643 it seemed to have grown even darker. It was still mid-morning but outside summer rain lashed down, streaking across glazed windows, hammering incessantly. It was not how he wanted to experience the past, not how he wanted to meet Penny. He had the feeling that the house was being closed down; ornaments put away and dustcovers draped over some furniture.
“Oh, John!” came Penny’s voice. “I am so glad you are come before I move away.”
No rush towards him for a passionate embrace, no kiss with her body pressed tightly to his. What had changed? He forced a smile and advanced towards her. So excited, he could hardly breathe. He was confounded by a large tray of silver tableware that she was carrying into the room.
“I love you so much,” he said, almost gasping out the words as he stood, undecided on how to act.
She turned away to place the tray carefully on a large packing hamper, “John, you know it can never be. I have been wrong to—” She was lost for words. “So wrong to lead you on, reliving my girlish dreams. Even if you were Cousin John, our romance would have ended as soon as I met Edward.”
“But when we were together at our last meeting you—” John couldn’t hide his disappointment or resist trying to touch her.
Penny backed slowly away. “I know. It was wrong, utterly wrong.”
“But you enjoyed me kissing you, enjoyed our…” What should he say? “… embrace.” John could see she was struggling with mixed emotions.
“It was no more than that, John, and we both know it. I am married to Edward and I love him. In two days’ time I join him in Bath where he works for the king’s cause.”
“But I love you, you must know that. There has to be a way we can be together.” Desperation was giving a hard edge to his voice. “I know you are in love with me.”
She met his gaze, resolute and unflinching. “I am very fond of you, John. I became excited by your presence, but I have said it is Edward who I love; Edward who is my husband. Even if you were of my time and place, I would still be devoted to Edward.”
“I cannot believe this. You were so—” John’s voice faded.
“I enjoyed your attention, I enjoyed reliving my girlish games, but as I said before, it was ill-judged.”
There was a long silence. John turned from her and walked unthinking to the window. The rain still fell on the tidy stables and the ornate Italian garden. He expected to see the ravaged present-day scene appear at any moment. Two strong, firm hands grasped him from behind.
“Please, John, let us not be unfriendly. We were both mistaken in that moment. I do not know who you are or where you are from, but you are not the ghost of my cousin, not of my time or place. We cannot be lovers, but please let us not be bitter.”
He turned to face her. She was smiling. Again, he felt as if he would cry. Thirty-two years old and crying over a girl. He hadn’t even cried when his wife, Helen, had left him.
“I love you so much,” he whispered, wretched and near to tears. “No one else, never before—”
“Stop, John,” Penny said gently. “You know this can never be.”
“Can I kiss you, one last time?”
“Yes, if it is a family kiss, cousin to cousin, with no expectation on either side.”
He moved towards her but she stopped him.
“One kiss, John, but consider if it is wise.”
“I do not feel wise, I feel hollow and—”
“Stop, John. We will be like cousins, or nothing.”
He leaned forward and pecked her on the cheek. “Halfway to paradise,” he said. “I want to be your lover, but I am only your friend.”
“Half is better than nothing,” she replied sombrely. “I am lucky – many women I know would sell their soul to have a husband like you who is even a friend.”
“And what now?” John said. “Do I leave?”
“No, John. You do not leave. You sit beside me, on this seat for two, shoulder to shoulder, but hands in your lap, not mine.”
They sat in semi-easy companionship.
“And now?”
“And now you will tell me of your life. Are you a mason?”
He nodded, and in spite of the disappointment, returned her smile. He told her of his life, his work, his business, and even the failed marriage.
“You loved Helen?”
“Not really. Not when I thought about it after she left. Not when I met the real—”
“Stop.” Penny put her finger to his lips. “And this Judith? I could see she ached to be your mistress. Have you lain with her yet? Come, come, tell all to Cousin Penny.”
“We went dancing the other week, she came back to my flat, and…” he shrugged.
“The details!” she said with a laugh. “Do not be shy.”
“We were intimate… passionate. She was very demanding.”
“Did you enjoy each other?”
“Yes, very. But we slept badly together. She was restless and snored. There, Cousin Penny, are you satisfied?”
“No, of course not.”
“A gentleman should never tell.”
“But you are not a gentleman, John. You are a craftsman.”
“It’s still no,” he said, and it was his turn to laugh. “Would you tell me what Edward does to you in bed, how he pleasures you?”
She met his gaze and said, “It is all rather dull. More interesting would be what I do for him: I am a very wanton wife! Ah, but we do not speak of my love life, we speak of yours. Now, this is very serious, John. Be you cousin or not. You laughed at sharing a bed with this Judith; ‘Sad Judith’ who still laments the loss of her lover, Mark. Do you love her, or do you trifle with her and prey on her weakness?”
Her question brought him up with a jolt. He should not have joked about Judith so trivially. “I don’t love her,” he said honestly. “But she knows that. She still loves Mark. At least we’ve both been honest with each other. We are friends who have fun and sleep together. Perhaps that will be our halfway to paradise.”
“I wish you well, John. Don’t throw away half a loaf in despair for the whole. A man truly starved of love and friendship would kill for a few crumbs.”
“I didn’t come here to discuss philosophy.” He did not mean to sound so harsh.
“I know, but some things…” she shrugged sympathetically.
John was beginning to recover from his shock at her rejection. Despairingly, he tried to ease the awkward conversation away from her ‘cousinly’ advice.
“But now tell me – what is happening? Where are all your fine things?” He looked around the room. Most of the valuables had been removed, leaving the life-size portrait of Penny and Edward in full prominence; the same painting he had visualised in his own time when it been hidden and defaced.
“Edward is serving the king in Bath, organising munitions,” Penny said proudly. “He will be there for some time and then on to Bristol, so I’ve packed away the house and will transfer to Bath to be with him. As the loving and dutiful wife that I am.”
