Anne O'Brien - Puritan Bride

Time had proved him to be right. For Richard, of course, it was an entirely different matter. The Hothams had always held to strong views and strong actions, in both politics and religion. Simon, Richard’s father, had a reputation for uncompromising Puritanism and, as a military man, had become a figure of significant importance in Cromwell’s New Model Army. Sir Henry even suspected him of supporting the execution of King Charles back in 1649. The new King would assuredly recognise the name of Hotham as that of a sworn enemy.

And now the Royalists were back in power, which promised little in the way of restoration of wealth or political advancement for any of those who had chosen to stand for Oliver Cromwell. The pardon for all sins committed in the name of Parliament was the most they could hope for.

As if aware of her scrutiny, Richard turned and walked back towards Kate. The fitful sun glinted on his fair hair, which he wore curling on to his shoulders, and highlighted the worn patches on his severe black coat. He no longer wore the distinguishing white collar of his youth, but no one would regard him as any other than an impoverished country gentlemen of a Puritan persuasion. And as such, he could not possibly figure in Sir Henry’s plans for his niece.

Once more standing before her, Richard demanded, ‘What of your mother? Has she no views on your marriage? Has she no influence with her brother?’

Kate’s immediate laugh expressed anything but amusement. ‘How can you ask it? I love my mother dearly, but I can expect no help from that quarter. She is entirely dominated by my uncle. She will go along with exactly what he plans and will be far too timid to voice even the slightest objection. She fears argument and dissension more than anything.’

‘You clearly do not take after her!’ Richard observed with more than a hint of irony.

‘No.’ Kate sighed with a wry smile and tucked her wind-blown curls back into her hood. ‘It might be more comfortable for everyone if I did. I am, my uncle frequently states, a true Harley. All self-will and determination, and a refusal to listen to good advice. He does not, of course, intend it as a compliment.’

‘My lady!’ Richard swept a mock bow with his broad-brimmed hat. ‘I would not love you half so much if you were a meek little mouse. And were you aware that you have the most charming smile?’

‘Thank you, sir!’ Kate stood and swept him a regal curtsy, extending her hand for him to kiss, which he promptly did. Her troubles were momentarily swept away, a smile lighting her face with an inner glow.

‘You shine as the sun in my life, dear Kate.’

‘And you, sir, are a flirt,’ responded Kate with a delightful chuckle. ‘What would your severe parent say if he could hear you?’

‘He would say that it is God’s will that you become my wife and that we restore the Harley fortunes together.’

‘I fear that it will depend more on the influence of Sir Henry than on God in the end!’

‘Katherine! But that’s blasphemy!’ The glint in Richard’s eyes did not quite rob his words of criticism of her flippant attitude. ‘Indeed, my father is very strongly in favour of our marriage. He would welcome you as a daughter-in-law, as would my mother. Let me approach Sir Henry,’ he urged once more. ‘We cannot plan for the future unless we give him the opportunity to accept or reject me.’

‘You are very determined, sir. And persuasive.’ She took his arm and they continued their perambulations, abandoning the nymphs to their watery frolics.

‘Why not? I can see nothing but advantage for us. Do you agree?’

‘I find the idea of marriage to you most acceptable, dear Richard,’ Kate assured him. ‘It’s just that …’ She hesitated, then turned towards him as she made up her mind to speak. ‘If my uncle disapproves, he could rake over all the old bitterness of past years. And he might forbid you the house. How could I exist if I could never see you again? I have no confidence in Sir Henry’s compassion or tolerance.’

Before Richard could respond, they became aware of footsteps crunching on the gravel walk. Swynford, Sir Henry’s steward, approached. He studiously ignored the closeness of the pair and their joined hands. With an impassive countenance, he bowed to Richard and then Kate. His words were for Kate.

‘Forgive me, Mistress Harley. Sir Henry has sent me with a message. He and Lady Philippa desire your presence. In the library.’ He hesitated and then added, ‘Sir Henry would wish to see you immediately.’

‘Thank you, Swynford.’ Kate smiled her gratitude, picking up the note of warning in the steward’s demeanour through long custom. ‘Tell me … is Sir Henry aware that Mr Hotham has called on me … on us?’

‘No, mistress. I believe that he is not aware of this circumstance, although Mr Simon Hotham is with him now. I do not believe,’ he continued imperturbably, ‘that there is any need for his lordship to know.’

‘Thank you, Swynford.’ The steward returned to the terrace and Kate faced Richard for a final farewell.

‘I think that you should not speak with Sir Henry now,’ she stated. ‘I don’t know why he desires my presence so urgently, but I have a premonition that it will not be an agreeable experience. It rarely is! To discuss marriage now would be to stir up a viper’s nest.’

‘So you wish me to leave you to face Sir Henry alone?’

‘Indeed, it would be better.’

Richard was reluctant to release her. ‘Remember that, whatever happens, I love you more than life itself,’ he assured her. ‘I promise that I will always stand by you and protect you.’

The garden was suddenly silent, magnifying the tension between them. Even the blackbirds in the adjacent cherry hedge stopped their scufflings. Whatever encouragement Richard read in her eyes, he drew Kate firmly towards him and kissed her, first on her forehead and then, as he received no rebuff, on her lips. It was a gentle, undemanding kiss, a mere promise of future passion. Her hair, whipped into a tangle of ringlets by the persistent breeze, caressed his face as his arms encircled her waist beneath the folds of her cloak. She felt a flicker of response surge through her body as his hands stroked her sides, her arms and then reached to smooth her hair. It was an intimately possessive gesture, leaving Kate in no doubt about her cousin’s feelings towards her. Then, before she could respond further—and, indeed, she was unsure just how she wished to respond—he let his arms fall from her and stepped back, releasing her, leaving everything between them once more unresolved.

‘Then I will say good day, Mistress Harley.’ Richard had himself firmly under control and spoke formally. ‘Or perhaps I should say adieu.’

He bowed once more with one hand on his heart.

‘Adieu, Mr Hotham,’ Kate whispered in like fashion and held out her hand.

Richard raised her palm to his lips in a final salute, aware of her trembling fingers. ‘I give you my word,’ he affirmed in a low voice, ‘one day you will be my wife. You will belong to me. I will not allow anything or anyone to stand in my way.’

With that, Richard released her, turned on his heel and strode through the flower beds towards the distant stables. Kate was left to follow him with longing in her eyes, her heart beating a shade more quickly than usual. She had never believed Richard to be capable of such intensity, such determination. She traced the outline of her lips with one finger and smiled as she remembered the firm pressure of his mouth on hers. He was so certain. She wished with all her heart that she could be equally so.

Richard’s disappearance through the ornamental gateway recalled Kate to the more immediate situation. A small frown creased her brow. Whatever it was, it had to be faced. With characteristic squaring of the shoulders and not a little forboding, she turned her steps towards the house. It was only then that she noticed how the sun had been obliterated by dark clouds and the first heavy drops of rain were beginning to fall.