EIGHTEEN

A LOUD HOLLER RANG THROUGH the hall of Swyre House, alerting the household to an approaching army. A footman shouted that it numbered one hundred; a maid cried that it was twice that size. Sir Henry, roused from a doze, scrambled to his feet, swearing perdition on all who invaded his property. Lady Margaret ran to the kitchen, calling to her servants to gather around her and make ready to defend themselves. Jayne, recently returned from a tiring night-time delivery, sank onto a chair in the salon and closed her eyes. Someone could wake her when the house began to burn, she called, but until then she intended to remain where she was.

Dorset had seen so much tumult since Parliament regained Weymouth that she couldn’t begin to guess which army to expect. The siege of Taunton occupied most of the conversation, for no one understood how Robert Blake and his tiny garrison had held out for so long. Lord Goring had joined with the general in command of the Cornish regiments to encircle the town, but their inability to agree had led them to withdraw their armies and leave the siege to different leaders. The general had retreated west to Cornwall while Goring headed east towards Shaftesbury. Such division in the Royalist camp should have benefited Blake, but Goring’s choice to once again patrol the border between Somerset and Dorset prevented Parliamentary relief forces reaching him.

Formal notification of the creation of a new Parliamentary army of twenty-two thousand men had arrived in the second week of April, and in the days that followed rumours circulated that Sir Thomas Fairfax was bringing this huge force to Dorset in order to confront Lord Goring. There was no evidence to support these rumours, however. The only verifiable stories were those that said the behaviour of Goring’s troops had become so appalling that ever more men were taking up clubs in defence of their homes.

In Dorset alone, the Clubmen’s numbers were said to be in the thousands, and Sir Henry attested to this after joining a gathering of some three hundred on open land to the west of Swyre. He reported back to Jayne and Lady Margaret that what had begun as single individuals attempting to protect their property had grown into full-scale rebellion against the war. Petitions begging for peace were being prepared and, once signed, would be sent to the King and Parliament. Every man in Dorset would be asked to add his name, and Sir Henry said he was minded to do so. He found he had more in common with the gentleman farmers, vicars and merchants who had been at the gathering—many of whom he knew—than he did with the likes of Sir Edward Hamway or Samuel Morecott.

Jayne counted it a small victory that Sir Henry was finally seeing merit in neutrality, but Lady Margaret warned her against saying anything. In two or three weeks, he would claim the idea as his own, she said, and their lives would become easier when he did. Jayne’s brothers would be treated with equal warmth when they returned, and the servants would not have to guard their words in front of him.

Now, Sir Henry was making so much noise ordering his footmen to follow him out of the back of the house in order to round up the farmhands that Jayne abandoned her chair to move to the window. She was joined by Ruth and Isaac, who had been reading quietly together beside the fireplace.

‘What do you see?’ asked Isaac.

‘Men on horseback,’ said Jayne, stooping to lift him in her arms. ‘Can you tell if they’re for the King? You say you know the colours of his different armies.’

Isaac gave an embarrassed wriggle. ‘Not all of them,’ he answered. ‘I know Prince Maurice’s wear red sashes.’

The leading horses were still some two hundred yards distant, and the wide red bands worn diagonally across their riders’ chests were clearly visible. Nevertheless, Jayne doubted these were Prince Maurice’s troops, because every man in the long line of horse that stretched back towards the gates was dressed in a buff jacket, a dark leather breastplate, thigh-length boots, and a peaked iron helmet with face and neck guards. Together, they represented a unified whole, looking quite unlike Prince Maurice’s ragtag soldiers, who had dressed in any manner they chose.

Ruth laughed suddenly. ‘I may be mistaken,’ she said, ‘for it’s hard to see faces behind the bars on the helmets, but isn’t that Andrew leading them? Do you see how he rides one-handed with his right arm hanging at his side? Andrew rode in such a way every time he visited us. Papa thought it absurdly affected and challenged him to do the same at a gallop.’

Jayne studied the horse as much as the man. Andrew’s was a rich red bay with a single white sock. ‘And did he?’ she asked.

‘Most impressively so. He instructed a groom to set an apple on a post and plucked it off with his free hand as he passed. What do you think?’

‘It’s certainly his horse,’ said Jayne, setting Isaac on the floor and leading him by the hand into the hall. She pointed to the door on the other side. ‘You must run to the kitchen and fetch Lady Margaret,’ she urged him. ‘Tell her Andrew has come and that your mother and I have gone outside to greet him.’

The boy took to his heels, and Jayne put her arm about Ruth’s waist to hasten her out of the entrance. To her left, she saw Sir Henry and his farmhands rounding the corner of the house. Sir Henry carried a club which he’d purchased in Bridport, and the labourers held their pitchforks like spears. The distance between them and the column was a bare fifty yards, and she watched in alarm as every rider, including Andrew, reached for his sword.

‘Oh, my goodness!’ she said, picking up her skirts. ‘We must run, cousin. There’ll be regret on both sides if they come to blows.’

A woman could get used to caterwauling, she thought. The screams were hard on the throat but their effect on men was unvarying. Both Sir Henry and Andrew turned to discover what the disturbance was, and Jayne was given a few extra seconds to reach the space between them. Red-faced and breathless, she bent forward to place her hands on her knees, as Ruth, unused to strenuous exercise, sank to the ground beside her.

‘Remove yourselves, women,’ roared Sir Henry. ‘This is a Clubman’s house and we prohibit intrusion by either side in this wretched conflict.’

Jayne raised a hand. ‘Allow me to breathe, Papa. All will be explained in a moment.’ She took two deep breaths, then straightened and turned towards the column. ‘You must remove your helmet, Andrew,’ she called. ‘You’re dressed so similarly to your companions that you’re quite unrecognisable.’

Andrew’s abrupt reining in of his horse to avoid riding into her had brought the men behind him to a stop, and he gave an instruction to the rider beside him to order them to dismount. Then he removed his helmet, hooked it on the pommel of his saddle and nudged his mount towards his father. ‘My respects, Sir Henry,’ he said, dropping to the ground and making a deep bow. ‘Be assured we come with no ill-intent and will leave again within the hour. I found I could not pass so close to my home without reminding myself of faces I have missed. Are you well, sir?’

There was no hesitation in Sir Henry’s response. He gripped Andrew’s arms and pulled him into a tight embrace. ‘Who would have thought it?’ he said. ‘Who would have thought it?’

They were words Jayne might have used herself, because Andrew looked very different from the stout, gaudily dressed young man of a year ago. Lean and with short, cropped hair, he appeared taller and older—and to Jayne’s eyes a good deal more confident. The simple buff uniform flattered him where fancy doublet and hose had not, and the creases about his eyes, scored into his skin by the elements, suggested he had learnt to smile more often than frown. She certainly had the sense that war had helped him, though whether because he’d found freedom away from his father or because he truly believed in what he was fighting for, she didn’t know. Perhaps both.

Released from Sir Henry’s hug, he was promptly embraced by Lady Margaret, who arrived in a flurry of skirts to cover his face with kisses. For her part, Jayne contented herself with relieving him of his horse, so that he could clasp the hands of the farm workers, all of whom he knew well. As she watched them greet Andrew, a soldier approached and asked if she would like him to lead the horse back to the column. His face was hidden behind the bars of his helmet but his voice and stature were unmistakeable.

‘It would please me even more if you led him yourself, Jayne. I have as much desire for a few minutes’ conversation with the good doctor of Swyre as your brother does.’

How absurd that her first thought was what a wreck she must look, since she still wore her workman’s boots and the dress of a poor countrywoman from riding to the delivery last night.

‘I doubt Papa would approve of my walking and speaking with a common soldier, William. It’s a bare ten minutes since he was planning to poke you all with pitchforks.’ She offered him the reins. ‘You have my permission to take the horse yourself, however.’ She heard the ghost of a laugh as he took the strap in his hand. ‘Some other time, then.’ He stooped to assist Ruth to her feet before leading the animal away.

Ruth wore a puzzled frown as she watched him return to the column. ‘Is that Lady Stickland’s footman? I remember his name was William.’

Jayne couldn’t deny it, since Ruth seemed to have a clear recollection of him. ‘Yes.’

‘You were right to rebuff him. He must feel your previous acquaintanceship gives him licence to be overly familiar.’

‘Indeed,’ said Jayne, taking Ruth’s hand and guiding her towards Andrew. ‘But let’s enjoy the moment and worry about impertinent footmen later.’

Later came sooner than she’d wanted. When pressed by Lady Margaret to enter the house and partake of refreshment, Andrew declined, saying he couldn’t expect to be treated differently from his men or the other officers travelling with him. But Sir Henry baulked at such nonsense, instructing Lady Margaret to have sweetmeats and cordial brought out to the troops and giving Andrew leave to invite his brother officers inside.

‘Royalists feel free to come and go as they please,’ he said gruffly, ‘and I’ll not have you thinking we’re open to one side but not the other.’

Andrew glanced at the club in his hand. ‘In truth, I was thinking the opposite, sir: that neither side is welcome. We find the same resistance everywhere, for both armies have imposed too heavily on the people they claim to represent.’ He gestured towards the column. ‘We hope to regain trust by behaving differently, so you have my personal surety that these men will do nothing to offend against your hospitality.’

‘Are you part of this new army under Sir Thomas Fairfax?’

‘We are, sir. Every man has undergone two months’ training in Lyme and we now have orders to join the rest of the cavalry in Hampshire under the command of Colonel Cromwell.’ He turned to Jayne. ‘John Metcalfe sends his respects, sister, and asks to be remembered to you, as indeed did others when they learnt I was your brother.’ A smile lit his eyes. ‘Your name is held in high regard and I was proud to share it.’

Jayne was more embarrassed than thrilled by the compliment. ‘Are you sure you’re not someone masquerading as Andrew?’ she asked. ‘We’re more used to insulting each other than exchanging pleasantries.’

He grinned. ‘I’m not so proud of you today, sister. Those garments get worse every time I see them. My men will think I’m related to a vagrant.’

She smiled back before turning to Lady Margaret. ‘Allow Ruth and me to oversee the refreshments, Mama. You’ve been yearning to see all your sons, and you shouldn’t waste your hour with Andrew by spending it in the kitchen.’

She waited for her mother’s nod and then hastened towards the front door with Ruth scurrying beside her, asking plaintively why they were in such a hurry. Jayne said they had many mouths to feed, but the truth was she didn’t want to be in the salon when Andrew brought the officers inside. She knew for a certainty that William would be one of them, and while Andrew may have been easily convinced that a Royalist captain in the Corfe garrison had had a change of heart, she doubted the same would be true of Sir Henry and Lady Margaret. The kitchen held many more attractions than feigning surprise that her erstwhile saviour had switched colours or dealing with Ruth’s bewilderment over how a footman had mysteriously become a knight.

When there was no more to be done in the matter of refreshments, Jayne retreated to her bedchamber and instructed her maid, Kitty, to loosen her braids and help her into a gown. Her intention was to absent herself until Andrew and his colleagues were ready to leave, but this idea was thwarted by Agnes, who entered the room and stood arms akimbo in front of her. ‘Your father and mother are most insistent that you present yourself in the salon, Miss Jayne. If I return without you, Sir Henry says he will come himself.’

‘Beg another few minutes for me, Agnes. Kitty has barely fastened me into this gown and has yet to finish my hair. I promise to be downstairs before Andrew leaves.’

Agnes stamped her foot. ‘It won’t do, Miss Jayne. I’ll lose my post if I return without you.’

‘You’ll never lose your post, Agnes. My mother has too much regard for you. Tell me what’s being said in the salon.’

‘I’m sure you can guess that for yourself, Miss Jayne, since Miss Ruth tells me Captain Harrier spoke to you on the forecourt. Your mother recognised him immediately as your escort of two years ago, and now your father bedevils him with questions.’

So, Captain Harrier and not Sir William … ‘Have you heard his answers?’

‘By no means,’ snapped Agnes, shooing Kitty away and settling Jayne’s bodice neatly above her hips. ‘There’s nothing more Kitty can do for you. You look as fine as I’ve ever seen you. Now, come.’

With a sigh, Jayne followed her from the chamber. ‘You’re no help at all,’ she chided. ‘What am I to say that won’t make matters worse?’

‘Nothing,’ advised Agnes. ‘Do as your mother and Miss Ruth do. Work at a tapestry and leave the men to sort their differences between themselves.’

Jayne recalled her last conversation with William in Richard Theale’s house. Nothing would annoy him more than for her to sit daintily before a frame, making tiny silk stitches, she thought. The only pity was she had no aptitude for the task, as he had rightly guessed. For preference, she would have slipped through the door of the salon in the hopes of going unnoticed for a minute or two, but Agnes whispered to a footman to announce her, and the chance to learn what was being said was lost. All talk ceased as every gaze turned to watch her entrance.

‘There you are!’ Sir Henry boomed angrily. ‘We thought you were hiding from us.’

Jayne dropped him a curtsey, trying to read the different expressions of those in the room. Lady Margaret and Ruth sat with heads bowed on a sofa, William and Andrew stood impassively beside Sir Henry, Sir Henry looked heated and two younger officers lingered uneasily in front of the window. ‘I took Andrew’s words to heart, Papa,’ she said lightly, ‘and decided it would be discourteous to him and his guests to appear again as a vagrant.’ She flicked Andrew a smile as she rose. ‘Do you approve, brother?’

‘You’re a sight for sore eyes,’ he said, walking forward to fold her in his arms. ‘Be cruel to William,’ he breathed in her ear before drawing away and raising his voice again. ‘Allow me to introduce my fellow officers.’ He gestured to the men by the window. ‘Lieutenant George Greenwood, my second-in-command; Captain Abel Poulter, who rides with us to Hampshire to take charge of his own troop; and your one-time escort’—he nodded to William—‘Captain William Harrier, who will leave us at Dorchester.’

Be cruel … Jayne couldn’t count the number of times she and Andrew had begged each other to do the same whenever they needed rescuing from their father’s anger. The trick never worked on Lady Margaret, for her anger wasn’t so easily diverted, but it never failed with Sir Henry, who invariably took the side of the child being savaged. Whether he would do so on behalf of a stranger, however, was anyone’s guess.

She moved to the younger officers. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, sirs,’ she said, offering her hand. ‘I trust you enjoyed the refreshments.’

‘We did, ma’am,’ they said in unison, taking turns to stoop over her fingers.

‘You also, Captain Harrier?’ she asked, turning to extend her hand to him.

He lifted it to his lips. ‘Indeed, ma’am. Thank you for the trouble you’ve taken on our behalf. Your transformed appearance is as splendid as your food.’

Jayne responded coolly. ‘You’re rather more transformed than I am, sir. Last time we met you were a dashing King’s man, now you’re a sober-looking Parliamentarian. How so? Do your opinions change with the wind?’

Andrew answered for him. ‘Captain Harrier was forced to serve under Lord Goring and he grew to detest the man. He deserted at Weymouth in order to help the garrison defend the town against rape and pillage by the most immoral troops in the King’s army. We were pleased to have him, for he brought details of Goring’s plans and placements.’

Jayne wondered if Andrew believed this, or if it was a story he and William had concocted. From their ease of manner, they seemed to have become friends despite the animosity of their first meeting in Swyre. ‘You’ll disappoint Sir Henry, Captain Harrier,’ she said, withdrawing her hand. ‘He thought you a man of honour when he spoke with you before.’

‘How is my honour marred by turning my back on rapists and thieves, ma’am?’

‘You pretended sympathy with their cause and then betrayed them. I’d not think well of Andrew if he’d sold the garrison’s plans as easily. Whatever your views of Lord Goring, you surely had some feeling for his men. How many of them died as a result of your treachery?’

Sir Henry admonished her sharply. ‘Mind your tongue, girl. Captain Harrier is our guest and should be treated with courtesy. We make it a point in this house to be civil to all, irrespective of belief.’

Jayne was tempted to say that, since Sir Henry had never knowingly entertained a Parliamentarian, the claim was exaggerated. Instead: ‘You weren’t so forgiving of Sir Edward Hamway, Papa,’ she countered mildly. ‘You called him a scoundrel and delivered him to the Bridport magistrate, yet I can’t believe you think attempted theft worse than betraying the King to his enemies.’

Sir Henry scowled at her. ‘Why this sudden love for your sovereign? You’ve never shown such attachment to him before.’

‘I question the honour of any man who betrays his companions to the enemy, Papa. A soldier, be he Royalist or Parliamentarian, should lay down his sword before he turns spy for the other side.’

The word ‘spy’ was derogatory enough to attract a sterner admonishment. ‘Cease immediately! I grow tired of your sanctimony.’ He addressed William. ‘Excuse my daughter, Captain Harrier. Her self-righteousness about her own neutrality leaves her ignorant of the struggle others have with their consciences. I confess I’ve had many myself since I learnt that the King was intending to employ a French army to subdue his people. Victory will have no meaning if the spoils go to France.’

William ducked his head in acknowledgement. ‘There are many in the Royalist ranks who agree with you, sir, myself included when I was amongst them. Nonetheless, apologies are unnecessary. I’m aware from my previous brief acquaintanceship with Mistress Swift that she has strong views about the foolishness of war. Each of us wrestles with the rights and wrongs of it, but the Clubmen more than most, I think.’

It was a clever prompt to turn the conversation towards safer territory. The Clubmen represented a neutrality they could all embrace, since people from each side of the political divide were drawn to the movement. Sir Henry spoke of Dorset’s despair at the behaviour of both armies, while Andrew explained that Parliament’s recognition of this despair had given rise to the New Model Army. He listed the rules the men were required to follow, adding that strict adherence to them entitled each man to a salary and the right to name his profession as soldier.

He turned to Jayne, who had quietly withdrawn to sit on a footstool beside Lady Margaret. ‘Do you approve, sister?’ he asked, using the same phrase she’d used earlier.

She was tempted to tell him not to test his luck. ‘How can I not?’ she murmured. ‘Only the most uncaring would argue that war isn’t immeasurably improved by the imposition of rules.’

The irony escaped her father and brother, but a smile twitched at the corner of William’s mouth. ‘The hope is that the conflict will end sooner if people understand that Parliament fights for them and not against them, Mistress Swift.’

‘I don’t doubt it, Captain Harrier, but it’s a fool’s errand. Too many of my patients go hungry these days, and the only people who understand or care about their situation are the Clubmen. The New Model Army will not supplant them easily in the affections of Dorset folk.’

‘And nor should we, unless we can bring an end to the conflict, ma’am. I have no quarrel with the Clubmen’s desire for peace—there’s not a person in the country who doesn’t feel the same—but declarations of neutrality do not win wars. Only battles can do that.’

‘And how many more must there be before Parliament or the King surrenders?’

William shook his head. ‘I don’t know, ma’am. All I can say with certainty is that Parliament’s army, under the command of General Sir Thomas Fairfax and Colonel Oliver Cromwell, will conduct itself well both off the field and on it. And if that leads to ultimate victory, the peace that follows will be fair and just.’

Lady Margaret waited until she heard the crunch of boots on gravel as Sir Henry accompanied Andrew and his fellow officers to the column. ‘Would you care to explain that little charade to me, daughter?’

Jayne moved from the footstool to a chair. ‘Which part needs explaining, Mama?’

‘Who is that man?’

Who indeed? ‘If you mean Captain Harrier, you should ask Ruth, Mama. You’ll have more faith in her honesty than mine.’

Lady Margaret looked at her niece in surprise. ‘Are you also acquainted with Captain Harrier?’

‘Hardly acquainted, Lady Margaret. I met him once at the time of Isaac’s illness. He was kind enough to protect me from Samuel’s anger and then convey my household and me to Weymouth.’

‘Convey? How?’

‘Lady Stickland lent us her carriage, and Captain Harrier drove it. He was most considerate, but I was so taken up with concern for Isaac that we had little conversation.’

‘Why did Lady Stickland’s coachman not drive the carriage?’

Ruth studied her hands.

‘You can tell the truth,’ Jayne said. ‘Mama won’t rest until you do.’

Ruth raised her head with a sigh. ‘I knew him only as William,’ she told Lady Margaret. ‘He served Lady Stickland as both footman and coachman, though his relationship with her was unusual. She took his advice more often than is normal between mistress and servant. Today is the first time I’ve seen him since and, had Jayne not called him William, I would not have recognised him. He speaks and behaves quite differently from the footman I met three years ago.’

Lady Margaret turned to Jayne. ‘Was he a footman when he pretended to be your brother and then presented himself here as Captain Harrier of the Corfe Castle garrison?’

‘I’m doubtful he was ever a footman, Mama. Ruth spoke truthfully when she said his relationship with Lady Stickland was unusual, and you yourself thought him a person of consequence.’ ‘Then why did he claim to be a servant in Lady Stickland’s house?’

Jayne thought back, picturing her first meeting with the indomitable matriarch. Allow me and my footman to accompany you, Lady Alice had said when Jayne had declared her intention of going to Samuel’s house. ‘The claim wasn’t his, Mama. It was Lady Stickland who described him as such, and Ruth and I accepted that that was what he was.’

Lady Margaret studied her for several long moments. ‘You’ll need a better story than that if your father decides to question you,’ she said. ‘Captain Harrier had no choice but to come inside after one of the younger officers spoke his name in front of Sir Henry. His clear intention was to remain with the column, just as yours was to remain in your chamber until the visitors had departed, but Sir Henry wouldn’t allow it. He was curious to know why Captain Harrier had changed sides.’

‘Weren’t we all, Mama?’

‘Not you, daughter, and not your brother either. I believe you both know he’s always been a Parliamentarian. Ruth, too, in all likelihood.’

Ruth looked alarmed. ‘Not I, Lady Margaret. My knowledge of Captain Harrier is even more limited than yours.’

Lady Margaret ignored her. ‘You showed too much reluctance to meet him, Jayne, and when you did you were overly harsh in your criticism. If you’re lucky, your father will think you don’t like Captain Harrier. If you’re unlucky, he’ll be wondering whether it was yourself or Captain Harrier you were trying to protect.’

‘From what, Mama?’

‘Questions about the propriety of your behaviour.’ Lady Margaret wagged a finger at her. ‘The pair of you seem to take rather more interest in each other’s welfare than is usual amongst chance acquaintances, and that suggests a closer relationship than you’ve been describing.’

‘But not as close as you fear, Mama,’ Jayne said mischievously. ‘Whoever and whatever Captain Harrier is, he is first and foremost a gentleman.’

‘He’d better be,’ said Lady Margaret tartly. ‘Sir Henry will run him through, otherwise.’

In the event, the single reprimand Jayne received from her father was that she’d taken too long to change into her gown. Had she appeared sooner, he’d have learnt more about the King’s most recent rejection of Parliament’s peace terms. As it was, he’d had two or three minutes only to read a report which Captain Harrier carried in his saddle pack, stating that negotiations had taken place in Uxbridge during the month of February. The terms were fair to both sides. In return for keeping his throne, the King would grant certain powers to his people through their elected representatives in Parliament. The talks had been conducted over three weeks, but once again the King had refused to compromise, preferring conflict over resolution. The New Model Army had therefore been tasked with ending the war as quickly and decisively as possible.