Without hesitation Serena tapped softly on Lord Brodie’s door. In a moment it was jerked open and he stood there, his eyebrows twisting dubiously when he saw her. Neither of them spoke; after glancing up and down the passageway, Kit snatched her inside, taking the taper from her and placing it on a chest by the door, a cynical twist to his mouth.
Having discarded his doublet, he seemed larger in the dim light; in fact, everything about him was forceful and exuded brute strength. Serena met his piercing dark stare, seeing something ruthless in that controlled, hard gaze. She stood tense, her back pressed against the door, afraid to venture farther, or to let her eyes wander to the huge four-poster bed which occupied centre stage. Already she realised it had been a mistake to venture into this lion’s den.
Feeling compelled and at liberty to look his fill, Kit noted her silken lashes sweeping the soft rosiness of her cheeks, and that her glorious green eyes were dark and limpid in the soft light, her hair a living, dancing flame, with trailing tendrils escaping from the carefully arranged mass. Having removed the small pleated ruff she had worn earlier, he saw that a pulse throbbed gently in the long curve of her throat, rising slender and graceful above her gown of an iridescent blue. She was a fragile image of perfection, standing before a man who dwarfed her. He met her gaze with a querying, uplifted brow.
‘Why, Mistress Carberry! What the devil are you doing here? Are you not aware of the impropriety of such a visit at this hour? Do you make a habit of entering a gentleman’s bedchamber at night?’
‘Of course I don’t.’
‘Perhaps you’ve lost your way. Is it Ludovick’s bedchamber you are searching for? If so, it’s farther along the passageway—although,’ he said, a wicked gleam dancing in his narrowed eyes and an infuriating quirk lifting the corner of his mouth, ‘there is every reason to suppose he will be in bed by now. However, it will not reduce his pleasure on seeing you. It comes as no surprise that you are attracted to my friend. The eccentricities of his behaviour know no bounds and I know he would be delighted to receive you.’
Serena’s face warmed to a vivid hue at what he implied and her eyes flared with ill-suppressed ire, but her mission was too important to become sidetracked. ‘He is charming, I grant you, but if you cast your mind back to our first encounter, as you saw for yourself, Lord Brodie, I am not the sort to fall for a gentleman’s flattery or be swayed by his persuasion. It is not Sir Ludovick I have risked my reputation to discuss.’
‘Nevertheless, prepare yourself to be pursued. The way Ludovick danced attendance on you all evening tells me he’ll not delay in calling at Dunedin Hall to ask your father’s permission to pay court to you.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Serena replied sharply. ‘When Sir Ludovick rides with you to Thurlow tomorrow, I have no doubt whatsoever that I will become just another woman he has passed a few pleasurable hours with. The moment some other takes his fancy he will forget ever meeting me.’
‘I doubt it. You have him well and truly hooked. Ludovick is my closest friend and I gave him the best advice I could. I told him what a hot-tempered little shrew you can be when provoked, but he wouldn’t listen.’
A fierce light sparked in Serena’s jewel-bright eyes. ‘You did what? How dare you abuse my reputation and good name by discussing me with your friend? If Sir Ludovick has any sense at all he will ignore your conceited opinions.’
Kit chuckled infuriatingly, delighting in her indignation. ‘He won’t. He never has before. Now, tell me why you are here.’
‘I apologise for intruding, but I have to talk to you.’
‘Talk? How disappointing. I was hoping you might have other, more pleasurable things in mind.’
Meeting his gaze, Serena felt her flesh grow warm. His eyes had grown darker and smouldered with an inner light, passing over her in a simple caress that seemed to strip her bare. His gaze dipped to the creamy swell exposed above the lace trim of her bodice, which brought two indignant high spots of colour to her cheeks.
‘Do you forget so soon that you are betrothed to Dorothea, my lord? I find your eyes far too bold and eloquent for my liking.’
Kit arched his brows and gazed down at her with sardonic amusement. ‘Forgive me, but it is not often a lady comes visiting me in my chamber like a wraith in the night. You either underestimate your charms by seeking me out in this clandestine manner, or overestimate my ability to resist you, which I shall strive to do because—as you were so quick to point out—of my betrothal to your cousin and my determination not to hurt her. But you must see that you have placed me in an extremely delicate situation. Aren’t you uneasy, being here alone with me?’
‘I am not afraid of you.’
Kit chuckled softly at the forthright thrust she gave to her chin. ‘You give no indication that you are—but perhaps you should be.’
As his gaze leisurely assessed her, Serena could not imagine what he found that was of so much interest. He was the epitome of the confidant, arrogant male, which made her all the more aware of her own weakness and fragility, despite her attempts to appear otherwise. She was immensely relieved when he appeared to recollect himself and his mood changed. Frowning, he stepped away from her and went to where the fire had burned low and glowed in the hearth. One fist was pressed into the hollow of his waist and his other arm supported him on the stone mantel, one foot placed upon the raised hearth. When he turned the harsh lines of his face had softened, all trace of his former mockery having vanished.
‘I’m happy that you did not leave before my arrival,’ he said quietly, having unconsciously hurried to Carberry Hall earlier than he had intended, should she have decided to do just that, while telling himself it was his eagerness to see Dorothea that was the cause of his haste.
‘You stand at the door like a deer sensing the hunter. Come over to the fire where we are less likely to be overheard. The situation is delicate enough without making it worse by drawing attention to ourselves and causing a scandal in the middle of the night. Even after so short an acquaintance, I believe I know you well enough to know that what you have to say must be serious, otherwise you would not be here.’
‘The only reason I did not return home was to ask you if you have spoken to my father. Please don’t think I remained for any other reason. With every sight of you I am reminded of my own folly that day we met, and I deeply regret my stupidity. I had to speak to you.’ Responding to his order, she moved warily towards him. ‘I realise how it will look if anyone finds me here, but it was a risk I had to take.’
‘You are an extremely brave young woman.’
‘Bravery has nothing to do with it. In view of everything, I had no choice. You are leaving early in the morning so I will not have another chance to speak to you.’
Kit indicated a chair close to the hearth. ‘Please, sit down. I should have known after our conversation how anxious you would be.’
Serena perched stiffly on the edge of the chair, glad of its support. ‘Lord Brodie, ever since our conversation I have been living on a razor’s edge. It pains me greatly to have to humble myself in this manner—to you of all people—to discover what my father is up to, but with Andrew in Italy there is no one else I can turn to. The thoughts going through my head are driving me insane. I cannot endure it.’
Kit could see she was full of apprehension and knew exactly what it had cost her to seek him out. He regretted his earlier mockery and should have known better than to make what she had to say harder than it was. He should have made every attempt to put her mind at ease—but after what he had noted on the hunt, he couldn’t do that. Regarding her in silence, a deep frown drew his brows together and for a moment he was thoughtful, his gaze holding hers with a penetrating intensity.
‘I apologise. I can see my revelations have upset you. It is my fault you are so distressed. Haven’t you considered asking your father?’
Serena was sure there was more than the conventional apology in his words. ‘Of course I have, but I know he would fudge the issue and tell me it was the wild imaginings of my mind if I were to mention plots to him. Did you speak to him?’
Kit shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not. The opportunity never arose.’
Her hopes sinking, Serena was swamped with disappointment, and the sudden gravity of Kit’s manner sent a blade of fear stabbing through her. ‘But you still believe something awful is about to happen?’
‘Yes, I do—and very soon. Parliament is to reconvene in a few days’ time. I suspect that whatever is afoot will manifest itself then. The whole event at Woodfield Grange was charged with secrecy and caused me a certain amount of disquiet.’
Serena’s heart stopped in sudden fear and she stared at him wide eyed. ‘Why? What do you mean?’
‘There was a tension in the air. The atmosphere was not conducive for relaxation or enjoyment.’
‘But I thought you said—’
‘What? That the hunting was splendid and that your father enjoyed himself? I did not speak loosely. He did—as did everyone present who belonged to his faith. Outwardly there was normalcy about the whole proceedings, but there was a tension among the gentlemen—with an underlying violence on leash. Clearly a general level of secrecy has been maintained, but the mouths of servants and wives cannot be stopped.
‘My uncertainty leads to speculation about a stir but, as to the precise form of this stir, I cannot name it. There were whispers among certain Catholic wives. They fear some disorder is brewing—that some extraordinary event is anticipated. I fear that Catesby’s emphasis on raising a troop of horse to enter the service of the archdukes in the Netherlands is nothing more than a fabrication to distract attention from the true nature of the action.’
‘Do you suspect a rising? Is that it?’
Kit didn’t answer straight away; when he did, he spoke thoughtfully, picking his words. ‘I am assailed by a multitude of questions but I can find no firm answers. I have listened carefully and sought to put myself inside a Catholic mind—but nothing is that simple, nothing is obvious. Given the evidence, there is every likelihood there will be a rising. It is rumoured that it is their intention to deliver the king a petition for tolerance. Perhaps they mean to back it up with force.’
‘That does seem plausible.’
Kit nodded. ‘I may be wrong. But you are right. At least there is sense in that. I am disturbed that there are so many splendid horses being collected in various stables in the Midlands. If there is to be no Flanders mission, then for what other purpose but a rising, I ask myself.’
‘Do you think it will be concentrated in the Midlands—if there is a rising?’
‘No. It has to be on a greater scale for it to be of effect. Behind it all I sense Catesby’s hand. With his authority reaching into the innermost ranks of the Catholic Order, anything could be manoeuvred by his ambitious scheming.’
‘Is he a good friend of yours?’
Kit shrugged. ‘He and his associates made me welcome, but I did not become one of their intimate circle.’
‘Was he present at the hunt?’
‘No—but at every point his name was on everyone’s lips.’
Serena shook her head in a helpless gesture as she tried to comprehend it all. ‘I wish I understood all this. What can they achieve? If they manage to bring down the king, the crown will pass to his son Henry. How can this aid the Catholic cause? I suppose that, if it does succeed, it will bring about changes for the Catholics.’
‘And if it fails the damage and scandal will do their cause no good and will be so great that both here and abroad they will condemned.’ Kit frowned. Trying to work out what was going on was like trying to find his way out of a maze without an exit. ‘It’s a puzzle, I know. The only obvious point about it all is that it’s a conspiracy involving Catholic fanatics. They have a long tradition of subversive activity.’
Serena’s lips twisted in a wry smile. ‘That I do know,’ she said, thinking of her father’s lifelong dedication to the cause.
‘My own concern,’ Kit said quietly, almost to himself as he continued to look into the embers, ‘is the timing of my visits to Warwickshire—to my taking part in the hunt and even buying horses from your father’s stables. I have a distinct feeling that when something does manifest itself, my own involvement—no matter how innocent—will be misconstrued and I shall be brought down by it.’
Serena gasped, horrified by what he was saying. ‘No—surely not. You are not a Catholic and have played no part in any conspiracy. You bought horses from my father for perfectly legitimate reasons.’
Kit’s mood had darkened and his expression was grim. Although he looked calm and in control, his mind was in a continual turmoil of conflicts. ‘Nevertheless, it is possible that I may be suspected of complicity. Anyone connected with plotting against the king will be arrested. Men have lost their heads for less.’
‘Then you must distance yourself from all of this.’
‘I intend to. But already it may be too late. I am not alone, either. I am not the only one not of their faith to be at their gatherings, and I believe it was to their advantage to have unsuspecting Protestants in their midst in order to deflect suspicion that anything is afoot. Whatever offence occurs, myself and others will not escape suspicion.’
Serena was scarcely able to grasp the reality of it all as Kit’s words fell like hammer blows against her heart. As she stared up into his dark eyes a chill seemed to penetrate to her very soul.
‘And what about my father? I am so afraid that he is involved—that he is one of those conspiring against the king. Dear Lord! It will ruin him. All his goods and estate will be forfeit to the Crown—and this time he will hang for sure. May the Lord save him,’ she whispered.
The prayer was heartfelt and Kit looked at her closely, seeing panic in the eyes of this usually assured young woman. In truth, Kit didn’t know if Sir Henry had been made privy to what was to take place, but he had certainly implicated himself by selling his horses to Catesby. Kit would not distress Serena by saying so, but he would not give much for that gentleman’s life either. It would be a hard thing indeed to escape the full consequences if he were to be charged with rebellion and treason.
‘In my foolishness I hoped that Father would put it all behind him, that no more would he endanger his family and others,’ Serena continued, ‘but it is not to be. His determination to carry on his crusade and to continue to involve himself in plots and conspiracies was too much to be borne by my mother, who grievously endured many throughout their marriage.’
‘You have just cause to be angry and upset by your father’s actions, but he loves you well and does not seek to hurt you. If my words have frightened you, I apologise. It was not my intention to upset you.’
Kit’s voice was surprisingly gentle and the unfamiliar sound caused an embarrassed flush to sweep Serena’s cheeks in a crimson flood. He was looking down at her, and for a moment she fancied there was a strange expression in his face she had not seen before.
‘You have not upset me, and do not forget that my sole purpose for coming here was to be put in the picture. It’s important for me to know so that I can perceive the danger and act upon it should the time arise.’
‘The picture may not be so bleak. I may be wrong.’
‘And I am afraid that you may be right,’ Serena whispered. She stood up quickly. ‘I have stayed long enough. I must go.’
At the door she turned, drawn to his gaze. ‘You will take care, my lord?’ She didn’t know why she asked him this, and she was confused by it, considering how she felt about him, but for some unknown reason it was important to her that he did. There was an intensity in her lovely eyes that clearly conveyed the depths of her concern.
Having followed her to the door Kit nodded, moved by it. ‘Never fear, madam. Don’t let it trouble you. I am capable of defending myself if I must.’
The light in the dark depths of his eyes was as enigmatic as it was challenging to Serena and, unexpectedly, she felt a quiver of excitement. The quickening in Kit’s eyes told her he was aware of that response. Her rampaging emotions and imaginings when she wondered what it would be like to love such a man disturbed her greatly, and she tried to push them away, but they were to become like mischievous imps playing a teasing game, flitting to and fro through her mind when she least expected it.
The long-enduring ache of suppressed passion stirred Kit’s blood. He suddenly wanted to remove the pins from her glorious hair and spill the heavy tresses free of their confinement, to run his fingers through the silky mass. For a moment his resistance wavered, making him pause. It was a small warning, but a warning all the same. Too often of late he had found his thoughts straying to her and he scowled, pulling himself up sharp, determined to keep a tighter rein on his attraction to her.
‘Goodnight, Mistress Carberry. Try and get a good night’s sleep.’
‘I will—and I trust you will do the same, my lord.’
With a rapidly beating heart Serena sped silently along the dark and narrow passageway, which twisted and turned and weaved its way between the rooms of the upper storey of the great house, breathing a huge sigh of relief when no floorboards creaked beneath her feet to betray her presence. Carberry Hall was full of shadows, weird noises in the rafters and wind in the chimneys blowing so loud and fierce again tonight that it rattled every shutter in the house.
The storm had been building up by slow degrees throughout the day, and now the wind had reached its height and went searching over the dark landscape in a frenzied dance. A savage bolt of lightning seared the sky, illuminating the room when Serena entered, closely followed by a loud clap of thunder. Irately she pulled the drapes across the window to close out the storm which, to her anguished and wretched mind, was a harbinger of darkness and doom.
When Lord Brodie and Sir Ludovick had left for Northamptonshire the following morning and Serena had returned to Dunedin Hall, Lord Carberry, even more disquieted by his future son-in-law’s recent behaviour, lost no time in sending a message to Ashcombe Manor inviting Sir Thomas Blackwell to Carberry Hall.
Serena listened in silence over dinner while her father enthused about the splendid hunting he had enjoyed at Woodfield Grange and the company he had kept, but she sensed an underlying tension and a nervous excitement about him. Determined to speak to him about the matter which so concerned her, she followed him to his study afterwards. He was standing by the window staring out when she entered and, when he turned, she caught an expression on his face which made her recall Lord Brodie’s words of the secrecy and tension he had sensed among those present at Woodfield Grange—a waiting for something to happen.
Sir Henry’s expression quickly changed to one of fatherly concern when he looked at his daughter, noticing how pale she looked and recalling how quiet she had been throughout dinner.
‘You look pale, my dear. Are you feeling unwell?’
‘No. I am quite well, Father. There is a matter I must speak to you about. I am deeply concerned about something which has recently come to my notice.’ Impatient to have her say and brave whatever her father told her, the words came tumbling out in a rush. At first he looked so shocked she thought he had been taken ill, but the shock was shortlived. After traversing varying degrees of disbelief, perplexity and horror, his expression became grim, his manner telling her with cold certainty that what she suspected was true and that the unthinkable was about to happen.
‘And I need not ask how you came by all this,’ Henry said harshly, interrupting her at length. ‘This is nothing but conjecture. It is evident to me that Kit has been speaking to you.’
‘Only because I asked him. I had suspicions of my own long before I spoke to Lord Brodie—and besides, he, too, suspects something is afoot, but knows nothing as to the nature of it.’
Sir Henry threw her a look of impatience, clearly angry and ill at ease at being confronted with this by his daughter. ‘God help me, girl! Suspicions—that’s all they are. If you are not sure of anything, don’t go jumping to conclusions. These suspicions are in your imagination and as always will come to nothing.’
‘No, Father. Not this time,’ Serena persisted, refusing to be put off. Defeat was something she would not accept. ‘Andrew is aware of something being hatched and is concerned that you may be involved. He spoke of it to me before leaving for Italy.’
‘Aye, he said the same to me, telling me that he had it from a reliable source in Italy that something is brewing here in England. But we hear of plots and conspiracies being uncovered every day. Why this sudden alarm?’
‘Please, Father,’ Serena entreated. ‘I am no longer a child, so please do not treat me as such. Just this once be frank with me. I know something is about to happen, and I am deeply concerned as to the nature and seriousness of it. Considering your past record for insurrection you can hardly blame me. I know that much of what you do is for the good of the faith—but can’t you spare a thought for me…for Andrew and James? Must you persist in embroiling yourself in plotting and scheming? Must you always solve things so dramatically—so violently? Will you never trust to reason?’
‘Serena,’ Sir Henry said sharply, surprised and secretly alarmed that any action of his had brought about this unexpected outburst, ‘whatever I have done I have done because I considered it necessary and to advance the faith.’
‘I know that. But what does it all mean? Has everyone behind this gone mad?’
‘How much do you know?’
‘Nothing. Nothing at all—only whispers…rumours, nothing more, but they are enough to frighten me. Everyone is so secretive.’
‘And that is how it must remain.’
‘Father, can you look me in the eye and tell me there is no conspiracy to bring down the king? Can you tell me in all honesty that the horses Robert Catesby bought from your own stable are to go towards raising a troop of horse intended for the Spanish Netherlands?’ She waited for the words that would dispel her fears, but they never came. Instead her father’s shoulders drooped and he seemed to age ten years before her eyes.
Sir Henry stared at his daughter, seeing the pleading in her eyes, and he felt strangely helpless and ashamed before it. Something of a dark and sinister nature was about to explode upon the nation, but he could not tell her what it was for he did not know the precise nature of it himself.
Despite being a prominent figure in the Catholic community in the Midlands, because he was not in robust health and was no longer a young Catesby or a Digby, when Catesby had come to purchase horses he had done his best to convince Sir Henry they were for the very purpose Serena had just mentioned. Catesby had even gone so far as to suggest that Henry’s son James might care to join his troop when he had finished his education at St Omer at Calais.
But Henry had sensed it was a useful piece of dissembling Catesby used with others, and that he and his contemporaries no longer considered him suitable for the engineering of a plot, which offended and pained him greatly. Henry had learned to keep his thoughts to himself over the years. To speak them aloud could lead to disaster, which was why, in this instance, he would keep his own counsel and wait for events to unfold. He had always spoken to Serena of truth and honesty, and of the respect one could earn if one always abided by this and was sincere, but at that moment he was unable to abide by this doctrine he preached to others. He shook his head slowly, avoiding her gaze.
‘Nay, lass. I cannot.’
‘That is as I thought,’ she said quietly. ‘Then it is damning indeed, Father.’
When news of the Gunpowder Plot broke—a plot to destroy the Parliament, the king, the royal family and the government—the spirit of vengeance and hatred it stirred within Protestants and those it was directed at made Catholics—both militant and innocent fearing a general massacre—tremble in its wake. A world which had been cruel to them before was about to become sadistic.
It was past midnight at Dunedin Hall and rain was falling heavily when news of it reached Sir Henry Carberry and his daughter. In the silence of the dark hours Serena strained her ears to listen, wondering what had disturbed her. Hearing the sound of thundering hooves heralding the approach of a large party of riders, immediately she was wide awake and out of bed.
Pulling back the heavy drapes, she peered anxiously out of the window, seeing the dark shapes of about thirty men and horses. Fear of unknown things seized her and, grabbing her robe, she wrapped it round her, dashing out of her room and down the stairs. As if expecting the arrival of these horsemen, Sir Henry was fully dressed. He went out to them, ordering Serena to remain indoors.
Obeying his unusually harsh command, Serena shivered with fear and cold as she listened to their voices over the noise of the beating rain. They were low and urgent, and she was unable to hear what was being said. Soon the horsemen were on the move again, leaving a few tired horses in exchange for fresh ones.
When Sir Henry returned indoors Serena went to him, swallowing hard, for a sudden dryness had almost stuck the sides of her throat together. There was a sudden death-like silence in the house, an absence of sound that was almost audible.
‘Father! What did they want?’
Shock and disbelief stared out of his eyes, and also a bleakness Serena had never seen before. She knew that her worst fears were justified and a chill of terror shivered through her.
‘Horses,’ Sir Henry said at length.
Serena caught his arm when he turned from her. ‘Father,’ she demanded in desperation, ‘tell me what has happened.’
He looked at her hard. ‘The plot has been discovered. We are all betrayed.’
‘Betrayed! Why—what do you mean?’
‘It’s a total shambles,’ Sir Henry muttered. ‘All is lost.’ His expression turned from shock and disbelief to one of resignation. ‘I speak the truth when I say that I knew nothing of this—but it would seem that I am to be ruined by it. I suspected there was to be a rising in the Midlands—but that was all. I knew nothing about the heart of the treason.’
‘And now you do?’
‘Yes,’ he replied, speaking in an even voice. ‘I have just been told that one of the conspirators, with thirty-six barrels of gunpowder, has been found by searchers in a room beneath the House of Lords. The plan was to blow up Parliament House—along with the king, the royal family and the government.’
Serena stared at him in shocked disbelief. ‘But—but that is monstrous.’
‘The timing of the explosion was intended to be the first action of a greater scheme. It was to coincide with a rising in the Midlands and for all loyal Catholics to rally to the cause—to unite in armed rebellion and seize control.’
‘So my suspicions were correct. That was the true reason why the horses were needed,’ Serena whispered, understanding at last.
‘Yes, but the most important objective was to kidnap the young Princess Elizabeth, the king’s daughter housed at Coombe Abbey, near Coventry.’
Serena was puzzled. ‘But how would that further their cause? The Princess Elizabeth is a Protestant.’
‘It was their intention to install her as a puppet queen.’
‘But the king and queen have other children—the five-year-old Prince Charles and the baby, Princess Mary. What was to happen to them?’
‘If the plot had succeeded, Prince Henry and probably Prince Charles would have been with the king at the House of Lords.’
Serena felt sick with horror, deeply affected by this. ‘And those two small boys would have perished. Oh, Father,’ she whispered, ‘such violent methods cannot be justified.’
Sir Henry smiled cynically. ‘Catesby and his contemporaries long ago rejected passive endurance, Serena. They consider the necessity of the Catholics of such importance that the enterprise would be of sufficient worth to compensate for the innocent deaths.’
‘Nothing can justify that.’
‘I know. Such an act cannot be condoned. But it was on Elizabeth their attention focused. No baby or small child would suffice. Elizabeth would make a more viable figurehead, and she is ideally placed for the plotters’ purposes at Coombe Abbey. It was their intention that she would be raised as a Catholic and marry a Catholic.’
‘Then thank the Lord it failed. I assume those gentlemen just now were the fugitives.’
‘They were. Most of the leading conspirators, too. It appears that their expectations of gathering support have come to nothing—and the company is shrinking fast as others leave. They came in the hope of acquiring fresh horses, which I gave them. They also took those I sold to Lord Brodie which he has not collected. He will have to be reimbursed, of course.’
A sadness came into his eyes and he placed an arm around Serena’s shoulders, leading her slowly back up the stairs, oblivious to the servants who had been woken by the unexpected and unwelcome guests. ‘I’m afraid my stables are almost empty now, Serena. It will take a long time to make them what they once were.’
A lump rose in Serena’s throat, knowing how dearly her father had loved his horses. Suddenly she turned and looked at him in alarm as a thought occurred to her. ‘Polly! They have not taken my horse?’
‘No, my dear. In anticipation of just such an event, I instructed John to have both Polly and Monarch stabled separately.’
‘Father, did those men ask you to join them?’
‘They did—but I’m too old and too battle-scarred to go gallivanting around the countryside in support of a lost cause. And anyway,’ he murmured in a voice filled with so much bitterness that it prompted Serena to turn and look at him, making her realise that her father’s enthusiasm for the concerted efforts over the years to further the Catholic cause and bring about toleration was beginning to wane, ‘I wouldn’t have had the stomach for it in the first place, had I been given prior knowledge of the inner workings of this particular plot.’
Serena was relieved and comforted to hear this, but later, when she learned that warrants had been issued for the arrest of those privy to one of the most horrible treasons ever contrived, all her old terrors came back to haunt her.
A hue and cry ensued, having spread from London to the surrounding counties, when government officials suspected that any conspirators in London would have flown. But they had one of the conspirators caught at the scene of the intended crime—John Johnson, an alias assumed by Guy Fawkes—who would be put to the torture to divulge the names of his comrades.
Searches were to be concentrated on the Midlands, where a solid belt of opulent and obstinate followers of the Catholic religion lived. Serena knew it would not be long before attention became focused on Dunedin Hall.
Since leaving Carberry Hall, Kit had been in a dilemma, for no matter how hard he struggled to concentrate on the sweet face of his betrothed, it was no easy matter dismissing Serena from his mind. He saw her as she had been when he had first seen her, courageous and beautiful and filled with innocent, angry passion. He remembered the sensual grace of her body as it had moved as one with her horse when they had ridden together, and how she had told him of her concern for her father with such tender pride.
Kit also remembered how she had looked when she had sought him out in his room, of the sexual aura that surrounded her, and he remembered other things about her, things a man already betrothed to a maid of incredible sweetness should not. But he was like a man on the dizzying edge of an abyss, about to plunge downward.
When news of the inner workings of the Gunpowder Plot reached him at Thurlow, he was as shocked and horrified as the next man, but he was also filled with dread because of the danger it posed not only to himself but also to Sir Henry Carberry and Serena. His concern deepened when he learned that, a few days after the plot had been uncovered, several of its principal members had been killed when the Sheriff of Worcestershire and a force of men had surrounded and stormed Holbeach House in Staffordshire, where the plotters had sought refuge.
Robert Catesby, who was suspected of being at the centre of the plot, and Thomas Percy, a charming, dangerous knave according to some, were among the four killed. Those captured had been conveyed to the Tower.
Uneasily aware of his known connection to the plotters, Kit knew it would be difficult for him to discount any association with the traitors—and, he thought with cynicism, after this there would be many gentlemen in England less likely to profess to the Catholic religion than before the plot was uncovered.
Not yet having brought the horses he had purchased from Sir Henry to Thurlow, Kit dispatched Robin to Dunedin Hall to arrange for their delivery, and also to assess the situation there. But, unbeknown to him, Robin never reached Dunedin Hall. Nearing Ripley, the unfortunate young man encountered Thomas Blackwell, who had been in London since before the uncovering of the plot and had only returned to Ashcombe Manor late the previous day.
Thomas was accompanied by three government officials—just a few of many who were sweeping the county with a zealous fervency. They were investigating and searching Catholic houses for fugitives of the plot and eminent Jesuit priests who, it was assumed, indoctrinated the English Catholics with the belief that they should defend the supremacy of the Pope to that of King James. So far their search had yielded nothing but a few terrified Catholics.
Thomas remembered Kit Brodie’s servant—in fact, he remembered every humiliating detail about the day his pride had been savagely mauled. No matter how fervently Robin protested, Thomas told his companions that this young man’s noble master was known to have Catholic sympathies, and that he belonged to a family which had branches of that faith. He also told them that a good many obstinate Catholic noblemen could be counted among his friends—among them Catesby and Digby.
Knowing this, Thomas’s companions were easily persuaded. Deciding that the marquess of Thurlow was worth further investigation, young Robin was dispatched to London and the Tower, where he would undergo interrogation.
Thomas’s smile was one of evil, murderous satisfaction as he watched Robin go. From the moment he had heard of the Gunpowder Plot, he knew it was the leverage he needed to topple the illustrious marquess of Thurlow from the elevated height of his pedestal. His ploy was to discredit one of Their Majesties’ favourite lords, to tarnish his whiter-than-white reputation, and he was not above telling lies to do so, however farfetched. And yet they might not be lies, he thought, in the light of Brodie’s cavorting with Catesby and his compatriots.
And, he thought, a ruthless gleam entering his eyes as he unconsciously fingered his cheek, he had not forgotten that he had a score to settle with that she-cat Serena Carberry. Nor was he in any doubt that Sir Henry had been involved in the conspiracy. Their time would come and he would await it with a good deal of pleasure.