Civil Conflict Page 14

  Mistress Bridges rose, and came across to Lysbeth, smiling widely, and embraced her.

  'My dear, I am so pleased. I knew that Tom had hopes, and I am delighted for you both.'

  Mr Bridges patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. 'Tom has made a good choice. We shall be so glad to have you in the family.'

  Lysbeth was warmed by their approval, and for the rest of the evening they sat talking happily, making tentative plans for a wedding the following spring.

  Early the next morning Tom had to depart, and life resumed its pattern. The only difference for Lysbeth was that Mistress Bridges fussed round providing things for a trousseau, and setting her to embroider chair-backs and bed hangings.

  'You will live here, of course, my dear, for a time,' she said one morning. 'We can find you a suitable house not too far away when the war is over and Tom can be with you permanently.'

  Lysbeth agreed, and enjoyed collecting her new possessions, and the importance which now attached to her, Tom's betrothed. Mistress Bridges took Lysbeth with her on many occasions when she visited her friends near by, and it was on one of these visits, one afternoon, that Lysbeth received a shock.

  They had been sitting chatting to their hostess, a lady who had long been friendly with Mistress Bridges, when a servant announced more visitors.

  'Mistress Mary Ambrose, Ma'am, and Sir James Howard.'

  *

  Lysbeth looked up with a start of surprise, her heart beating rapidly, to see Sir James enter the room, escorting one of the loveliest girls Lysbeth had ever seen. She studied her as she made her curtsy to the older ladies, and saw a fair, dainty creature with bright blue eyes, delicately rosy cheeks, and the palest gold hair hanging in a profusion of curls. Sir James had noticed Lysbeth immediately on entering the room, and when their hostess introduced them he laughingly told them he was acquainted with Lysbeth, having been a friend of her brother's.

  He came over and sat by her, and as the two older ladies were asking anxiously after Mistress Ambrose's mother, who had recently been ill, they were able to talk privately for a few moments.

  'I see you remain with the Bridges,' Sir James said. 'How are things with you?'

  'Very well, I thank you,' Lysbeth replied somewhat breathlessly. 'My aunt is recovering, but I shall not rejoin her for some time, and then – ' She paused. For some unaccountable reason she did not wish to tell Sir James of her betrothal. 'But what do you here?' she asked quickly, to cover hesitation.

  'I visit relatives,' he answered. 'They live but a few miles away'.

  'Mistress Ambrose is a relative?' Lysbeth asked.

  'No, she is but a friend. I have known Mary for many years, somewhat as your Tom has known you.'

  Lysbeth looked up at him quickly, and then away again. She had remembered his ramblings when he had been in delirium in the barn, and his frequent calls for Mary, his expressions of love for Mary.

  Luckily, the conversation then became general, and Lysbeth did not have opportunity for further private speech with Sir James. Soon after that Mistress Bridges left, and they drove home in silence, Mistress Bridges thinking of her household tasks, and Lysbeth pondering this unexpected meeting with Sir James.

  A few days later Mistress Bridges told Lysbeth they had been invited to a ball by some neighbours who lived a few miles away.

  'It is next week, my dear, and Tom will be at home. How fortunate. Have you attended many balls?'

  'I have been to only a few,' Lysbeth answered. 'I was not really old enough before – before – '

  'Of course, my dear,' Mistress Bridges interrupted, seeing her hesitation. 'But did you not attend balls in Oxford, when you were there with Arthur? I hear that the King's Court was very merry.'

  'Oh, yes, I attended several there, but I was there only a short time.'

  'But you can dance? You do not need lessons?'

  Lysbeth smiled at her. 'I think I can manage, Ma'am.'

  'Then you may have to teach Tom. He has not until now cared for that sort of thing, but I am sure that to please you he will learn.'

  'When does Tom come home?' Lysbeth asked.

  'At the beginning of next week if all is well. 'Tis indeed fortunate he will be here to escort you. We must see about a gown for you to wear.'

  Soon they were absorbed in selecting materials, and Lysbeth chose a dark gold silk, which complemented her dark beauty admirably. The sewing maids were kept busy making that and a dress of blue taffeta for Mistress Bridges.

  Tom arrived in the midst of the preparations, and though he did not altogether approve of dancing, having imbibed this attitude from his Puritan fellow soldiers, he smiled at Lysbeth's obvious excitement, and said nothing to dampen it.

  When the day came and they were ready to set out, he joined Lysbeth in the hall while they waited for the carriage to be brought round, looking at her admiringly.

  'You will be the most beautiful girl there,' he told her, dropping a kiss lightly on her cheek. She smiled at him happily. 'You must take care over your partners,' he warned her.

  'Why, what can you mean?' she asked in puzzlement.

  'There will be men who would not scruple to take advantage of you if they had the opportunity.'

  'Why, Tom!' Lysbeth laughed. 'Surely not, amongst your friends?'

  'None the less – ' he began, but she interrupted somewhat sharply.

  'I went to balls in Oxford, and took care of myself there. I doubt if your mother's friends are any wilder than the King's courtiers!'

  'I do but warn you for your own good,' he said abruptly. 'I hope you will behave circumspectly.'

  'I never behave otherwise,' Lysbeth almost snapped at him.

  'You must remember you are my betrothed now.'

  'I do not behave any differently as your betrothed than I did before.'

  'I wish merely to protect you and advise you. I trust you will take heed of my wishes.'

  Lysbeth turned away abruptly, some of her pleasurable anticipation having disappeared. Fortunately, the carriage arrived at the front door at that moment, and they stepped into it. By the time they had driven to the house where the ball was being held, Lysbeth's irritation vanished, and Tom had made no further comments and offered no further advice on how she was to behave. It was an important occasion, and there were many guests at the ball. Lysbeth danced with Tom, and afterwards was quickly claimed for other dances by his friends who had swarmed round requesting introductions.

  She was standing with one of these young men, sipping a glass of wine, and her heart leapt when a familiar voice came from over her shoulder.

  *

  'Mistress Lysbeth, 'tis indeed a pleasure to see you here.'

  She turned quickly, a smile on her face. 'Sir James, I had not known you would be here.'

  She glanced around, but there was no Mary Ambrose in sight. She introduced him quickly to her previous partner, and expertly Sir James conversed with him for a few moments, before firmly drawing her away to the dance set that was just being formed. Sir James was an excellent dancer, and Lysbeth revelled in it. They performed so gracefully that many eyes watched them as they proceeded through the figures of the dance, and questions as to the identity of these two strangers were on many lips.

  When the movements of the dance brought them together, they were able to exchange brief remarks. Lysbeth asked after Sir James's wound, and was told it had healed completely.

  'Are you staying long in the area?'

  He answered that as yet he could not tell, he awaited on circumstances. He asked about her aunt, and her plans, but she was evasive, for some unaccountable reason not telling him of her betrothal.

  As the dance ended he drew her into a small alcove where there were some seats, and she sank gratefully onto one of these, patting the seat beside her invitingly.

  'Shall I fetch you a drink?'

  She shook her head, and he sat down beside her.

  'You are still visiting relatives?' she asked.

  'That is my excuse.' He
smiled down at her, and her heart lurched with dismay as she thought of Mary Ambrose. 'I have work to do for the King. I know I can safely tell you my true reason.'

  Lysbeth nodded abstractedly, having suddenly realised that she was jealous of the other girl, and aghast at the implication of this. She knew now she did not love Tom, that this man sitting beside her was the most handsome, the most charming, and the kindest man she had ever known, and that she was aware only of him, and cared for nought but his company. She was hopelessly in love with him, and he was in all probability in love with Mary Ambrose. In any event, he did not regard her with such feelings – and she was betrothed to Tom Bridges.

  With a great effort, she brought her mind back to what he was saying.

  'I am visiting landowners seeking support in money or in men.'

  'I have heard little of the war's progress,' she said slowly. 'How is the King? What has been happening?'

  'Matters do not go well,' Sir James confessed sombrely. 'After Naseby the King went to Wales, and he was hoping to raise more Welsh recruits, but they did not come. There are too many quarrels on the Royalist side. Rupert wanted to go to the Western army, and methinks at the time he was right.'

  'But have the Royalists not lost battles in the west?'

  'Aye, they have. The King was intending to make for Bristol, but when the Roundheads captured Bridgwater 'twas no longer safe. Montrose is still having successes in Scotland, but elsewhere Parliament is gradually capturing places held for the King.'

  'Can he possibly raise sufficient support?'

  'I know not,' Sir James replied heavily. 'The Council is so divided matters go badly from the top downwards, and the King is not a soldier. If we could have one determined leader who could coordinate our efforts, we might succeed. But as yet I see no likelihood of this.'

  'I wish you well of your endeavours here,' she said softly, and he smiled at her warmly.

  'Thank you, Lysbeth. Are you still, then, on our side?'

  'I am sorry for the King. Yes, I think I do support him more than the Parliament. But I am torn, with Tom in the Parliament army. I cannot express my feelings to him too openly now, so we tend not to discuss politics.'

  She smiled up at him, enchantingly. 'Thank you for talking to me. You accept that I can now understand, that I am no longer a child?' she teased, having fought down her earlier emotion.

  He glanced at her low-cut bodice, the slender waist, and the full skirts caught up to reveal pale yellow petticoats.

  'You are a most attractive young woman,' he assured her, and smiled broadly as she blushed. 'You blush most becomingly,' he continued. 'It is an admirable accomplishment. How do you contrive it? 'Tis a most certain way of attracting your gallants. Tell me, do you hold your breath to achieve it?'

  She spluttered with laughter at this, and he caught her hand in his. 'Lysbeth, do you think often of the days after Naseby battle, the plight we were in, and the odd life we led?'

  'Aye, but it seems so far away now.'

  For a few moments they were silent, pensive, then he drew her hand through his arm.

  'Come, let us dance again. If we hide away much longer, tongues will be wagging.'

  He took her back into the ballroom, and they danced several more dances. Sir James paid Lysbeth many compliments, and she flirted outrageously, enjoying herself in a way she had not for several months, but with an underlying desperation to her gaiety. Some time later they were sitting once again the same alcove, this time drinking wine Sir James had fetched, laughing together over some shared memory, when Tom walked into the alcove with Mary Ambrose on his arm.

  *

  'So here you are,' he said curtly. 'I have been searching for you a long time, Lysbeth. Good evening, Sir James. Mistress Ambrose is similarly searching for you. I believe you have forgotten a dance you had promised her.'

  Sir James had stood up on their entrance, and looked stricken with remorse.

  'Mary, my dear, have I really done that? My deepest apologies!'

  The girl smiled at him, forgivingly. ' 'Tis no matter, I met Mr Bridges here, who was in a similar plight, having lost his betrothed, and we danced together, comforting one another for our losses.'

  Sir James smiled at her, and then turned to Lysbeth.

  'Thank you for the dances, and may I wish you every happiness?'

  He offered his arm to Mary, and with a brief nod to Tom, left the alcove.

  Tom turned to Lysbeth, a look of fury on his face that she had never seen before.

  'What mean you by such behaviour?'

  She stood up, flushing angrily at his tone. 'I do not understand you, Sir! What behaviour do you mean?'

  'Dancing for so long with one man, and hiding in here with him. 'Tis not the behaviour I expected from my promised wife.'

  'I have done nought amiss, and if you do not approve, I am sorry for that. But I am not sorry for anything I have done. There is nought for me to be ashamed of.'

  She attempted to walk past him, but he caught her arm and pulled her round to face him.

  'I am telling you, Lysbeth, that such behaviour is disgraceful, and your name will become a byword in the district if you persist in it.'

  'I met an old friend, and we talked together. That is all,' Lysbeth said slowly.

  'I hope Mistress Ambrose understands the position,' Tom said coldly.

  'Why Mistress Ambrose?' Lysbeth asked, a cold fear clutching at her heart.

  'I hear 'tis soon to be announced they are betrothed. Let us hope your unfortunate behaviour tonight has not caused trouble between them.'

  'There was nothing that could cause trouble to anyone who is reasonable,' Lysbeth answered sharply.

  'You are very hot to defend both yourself and Sir James.'

  'There is nothing to defend.'

  'I wonder. 'Tis mighty suspicious that you should have so much to talk over in private.'

  'What exactly do you mean?'

  'You have never told me much of what happened after Naseby. 'Tis somewhat unclear exactly what you and Sir James were doing.'

  'I have told you that he was wounded, and we hid, first in a barn, then in a half-ruined cottage.'

  'Alone!' Tom interposed.

  'Just what do you imply?'

  'A man and a girl alone together for a long time? What do you think I imply?'

  'You have a filthy mind,' Lysbeth flung at him. 'Would no girl be safe with you in similar circumstances? Is that what you say? Quite apart from the fact that Sir James was wounded, he is not the sort of man to take advantage of a girl, and you are also impugning my honour that I would allow him to deal so with me!'

  'I wonder! ' Tom said harshly.

  'Do you not realise that Sir James saved me, at some cost to himself, from the unwelcome attentions of some of your comrades? Twice he had to fight Parliamentarians who would have forced their attentions on me. But he has more honour and courtesy than to force his own on anyone who does not wish it!'

  'Who does not wish it,' Tom repeated. 'Do you swear that he made no advances to you?'

  'I do not need to swear anything,' Lysbeth retorted. 'If you do not believe me, I will not seek to convince you by swearing anything. I will not provide you with such satisfaction. Now please move. I wish to leave.'

  Tom reluctantly stepped aside, and Lysbeth, her cheeks flaming and her head held high, marched away. Fortunately, she was able to find Mistress Bridges almost immediately, and on her pleading fatigue, the good lady called for the carriage and had her whisked home and to bed.

  After a sleepless night, Lysbeth rose, heavy-eyed, and came late to breakfast. To her relief, Tom and his father were not there, but Mistress Bridges eyed her anxiously.

  'You must rest today, my dear,' she said firmly. 'Why not sit under the chestnut tree with some embroidery?'

  Listlessly, Lysbeth agreed, and was soon settled on a cushion under the shade of the tree. Mistress Bridges fussed round for a while, then left her to attend to some household tasks, and Lysbeth was no
t surprised when Tom soon appeared. He stood before her, looking down at her, and she stared up at him, not speaking.

  'Good morning, Lysbeth.'

  'I do not find it a good morning, Tom,' she replied slowly. 'Will you please sit down? I have something to say.'

  He dropped to the grass by her side.

  'Tom, I regret that I cannot marry you now.'

  He looked steadily at her, then spoke slowly. 'You are overwrought, Lysbeth. There was too much excitement last night, and you do not look as if you slept well.'

  'I did not sleep. I was thinking all night of what I must do today. Tom, I cannot marry you.'

  'Oh, nonsense. You were upset and hysterical last night. 'Twas the excitement, the unaccustomed gaiety.'

  'Tom, I mean it.'

  The resolution in her voice penetrated to him, and a sudden anxiety came into his look.

  'But why, Lysbeth, dear, why have you changed your mind?'

  'I cannot marry you after what you said, after the suspicions you harboured of me. I cannot love you.'

  'But my dear, I did not mean to accuse you. I thought it possible you have been taken advantage of.'

  'You implied I would have been willing,' she answered coldly.

  'Lysbeth, I apologise for what I said.'

  Tom spoke stiffly and Lysbeth smiled briefly, but shook her head.

  'An apology can make no difference now. You did think it of me, you might again. No, Tom, I cannot bear with that.'

  'Please, Lysbeth, do not decide now. Think it over for a while. I return to the army tomorrow, and I shall not be here again for some weeks. Do not decide now, I beg of you.'

  ' 'Tis no use, Tom. I will not change my mind. I know now I do not love you as I would like to love my husband. Neither, I think, do you love me truly.'

  'Lysbeth, you cannot do anything final in such a hurry. I shall be away for about two months. Leave it until I return.'

  Seeing he refused to believe her assertions, she reluctantly agreed, and turning with relief from the subject, he began to talk about the army. She followed his lead, and asked questions of what his movements would be.

  'I do not know precisely,' he answered, looking somewhat proud. 'I have been given a special assignment. I must travel round and consult with various people, and I know not how long this will take, or how long they will require to think over what I have to discuss with them.'