Anne Herries - The Rebel Captain's Royalist Bride

Babette inclined her head. Hoping that her servant understood why she sounded harsh, she turned and waited for the Parliament captain to give her his hand to help her mount pillion behind him. Instead, he swept her up, his big hands one each side of her waist, lifting her to the front of the saddle with ease and mounting swiftly behind her so that his arms were about her when he caught the reins.

Her whole body trembled, unable to hide how much his nearness affected her. She was encased in a strong muscular embrace and could not have escaped had she wished. The masculine scent of him was as powerful as his physique, a mixture of horses, leather and fresh sweat and beneath it the smell of skin recently washed with a good soap. It was not the kind of soap her aunt might make at home, but had probably been made by a perfumery in France or perhaps some Eastern land, as it was infused with scents that were not familiar to her.

It was not the kind of scent often met with in the country, for the servants washed only when they changed their clothes and that might be any time between a week and two months. Aunt Minnie would not put up with slovenly dress in her servants and so those in the house were forced to wash both themselves and their clothes at least once a week, but many of the common folk seldom bathed. There were always the exceptions, of course, but many of them smelled unpleasant. Wealthy gentlemen often disguised their lack of cleanliness with strong perfumes imported from the East, but both Babette’s family and her uncle’s, were more conscious of the benefits of soap and water.

‘’Tis filth that breeds disease, if you ask me, and it be certain that it brings rats,’ Aunt Minnie was fond of saying. ‘I can’t have folk in my house that carry lice in their hair or fleas on their body. If I find they have them, it’s off with their things and into the lye bucket—and a scrubbing for them in the washtub.’

The cure seemed far the worst evil to her servants and most obliged their mistress by having a body wash once every week—and washing their hands and face each morning, and even before meals, if she were about to watch them.

This man had washed all over that day, for his scent was above all fresh. Babette found his smell comforting as well as pleasing. His hair was long, but it too had been freshly washed and was brushed back from his forehead and fell in soft waves to his shirt collar. Had it been cut short, she suspected it would curl tightly about his ears; the thought made her smile, for as a boy John had had ringlets, but when his hair was cut they were lost for ever and it now grew straight.

‘You are thoughtful, mistress. Have I prevented a meeting with your lover?’

Was that why he’d insisted on escorting her home? Had he thought he was saving her from sinful behaviour here in the woods? She’d thought him more of a soldier than a religious zealot, but was he also a Puritan in his thoughts? Yet that did not accord with his scented soap and his fine linens—many of those who preached of godliness thought insufficiently of cleanliness in her experience.

‘Why should I sneak away to the woods to meet a lover?’ she asked with a flash of temper and perhaps unwisely. ‘If I wished to court someone, I would ask him to come to the house.’

‘I would have expected it of as proud a woman,’ he agreed. ‘Then what were you doing last night? You allowed me to think you were meeting a lover then.’ She turned her head to look at him and saw the suspicion deepen in those deep-seeing eyes. ‘Or are you a Royalist spy?’

Babette had to struggle against the shiver of fear that threatened. He was so close to the truth. She managed to stop herself shuddering, sitting straight and stiff within the confines of his arms. His nearness made her feel weak and her throat tightened with an emotion she did not understand or wish to know.

‘I do not know what I have done to make you think so ill of me, sir,’ she said, meeting his eyes with her clear gaze. ‘Someone I cared for came to the house to ask for medicine last night. I asked the symptoms and today I have been foraging so that I may make a cure for the fever that ails him—what is so terrible in that?’

‘Are you then a witch?’ he asked, but now the cold look had gone and a half-smile was on his lips. He was mocking her, but gently. Babette’s heart beat faster, for his smile pleased her and made her wish he were not a Parliament man. ‘Methinks I may have misjudged you last even, mistress.’

‘You were quick to judge,’ she said. ‘There are in this world people—men—I care for, men who are not my lover yet who are held in high regard by me. Some might be relatives, others servants or merely friends; if any asked me for a cure I knew how to make I would make it—but I do not use spells nor do I ill wish any.’

‘Yet he came to you in the dark of night.’ Captain Colby looked thoughtful. ‘I shall acquit you of wanting to poison me and mayhap I was wrong to think you had a lover—but you are hiding something from me, Mistress Babette. My instincts never lie. I must warn you to be careful. Please do not do anything foolish while my men and I stay at your uncle’s house. Should I discover that you were harbouring an enemy I might be forced to take measures...and it would not go well with you or your family if a superior officer should discover you were a spy.’

Babette’s heart caught with fear, not for herself, but for her brother and Drew. If these men should discover them she believed they would find themselves prisoners...perhaps worse. Could they be Royalist spies? John had seemed to hint that Drew was important to the cause. She must be very careful not to betray herself when John came that night.

‘Now you will not speak to me,’ Captain Colby said, a dangerous softness in his voice—dangerous, because it broke down her guard and almost made her forget he was her enemy. Something in her responded to his stroking and she wished that she might confide in him. Why could he not have been a Royalist? Her throat tightened and she could not speak even if she wished. ‘I did not wish to frighten you. I would not have harm come to you or your family, believe me. It was rather in the nature of a friendly warning.’

‘Then I thank you,’ she said, ‘though I see no reason for your fears. I am merely a guest in my uncle’s house. If my beliefs differ from his, still I would not do anything to harm him or his family. Nor would I deliberately harm you or your men, sir—even if we are enemies.’

‘I hope you speak the truth for your own sake and mine,’ he said, and for a moment his arms seemed to tighten about her. ‘It would pain me if I had to punish you, Babs.’

How dared he call her by the name she thought reserved for her family? Her mood was instantly altered. She wanted to reproach him, but he seemed less angry and threatening and she dared not make him lose his temper again. She must ignore his familiarity while he was in a position of power—but if ever they should meet in different circumstances...

Contenting herself with thoughts of how she would treat him with haughty disdain once the King had won the war, Babette managed to complete the ride back to her uncle’s house without giving rein to her temper.

* * *

Once she was back at the house, Babette found herself busy cooking and baking. Now that they had so many guests there was three or four times the work. Aunt Minnie grumbled that the soldiers were eating her out of house and home, but Uncle Matthew reminded her that a troop of more than twenty men might have ridden in and taken all they had without any form of payment. Captain Colby had promised payment for what they took.

‘I know your uncle is right,’ Babette’s aunt said when they were alone, ‘but the work does not fall on him—and it will not be easy to replenish our stores. I may have to send to London for some supplies.’