Marriage Under Siege (39 page)

'Then farewell, my lord.'
She sank into a deep curtsy, sinking down and down, head bowed, her velvet
skirts billowing around her, as if she were paying due respect and honour to
the monarch himself. Then, rising with equal grace and turning on her heel, she
left the room without a backward glance. Coningsby followed her, to enjoy the
brutal tension that arced, shimmering, between Mansell and his lady.

Alone again in the
comfortable prison, Francis knew what was under his hand before he unwrapped
the soft leather covering. Katherine smiled up at him serenely from her golden
frame. Young. Innocent. Untouched as yet by the harsh reality of life. Or by
warfare. Or by the despair of divided loyalties. He tightened his fingers
around the portrait. Honoria had left him this, giving him the only item she
had rescued from Brampton Percy that she believed he would treasure. He touched
the painted face. Yes, he had loved Katherine, with the light-hearted innocence
of youth. But now his heart beat for Honoria, in spite of everything that had
come between them, with all the attending' pain and uncertainty.

And she? She believed that
he had no love for her. No respect. Felt nothing but contempt, nothing but
suspicion and distrust. Why else should she have left him a portrait of the
woman whom he had loved in an earlier life, to give him comfort in his solitary
imprisonment? Yet how could Honoria, a woman of such sensitivity and
generosity, be capable of treachery towards him? Surely she could not! Whatever
the evidence against her... Francis sank wearily to the chair beside him,
allowed his head to fall back against the carved oak. Eyes tightly closed to hide
the raw longing in his soul as he contemplated a life of imprisonment, and
separation from the woman whom he had come to love beyond all reason—but whom
he could not trust.

'And you have a second
request, my lady?' Once more facing each other in the audience chamber,
Coningsby almost smiled. Honoria was paler than death.

'Lord Mansell's release.'

Now he laughed aloud. A
chilling sound which echoed in the panelled room. 'I fear I cannot oblige you.
Your ladyship should know that I have arranged for him to be transported to
London, under strong guard. If the King chooses to make an example of
him—treason is, after all, punishable by death—then it will be as a warning to
all those who would dare set themselves up against His Majesty's unquestionable
authority. Indeed, I would personally recommend such a course of action to His
Majesty.'

Honoria drew in a breath.
It was as she had feared, but now was not the moment to draw back. 'Mansell is
no longer a danger to you or your authority in this county. You have
confiscated all his possessions. He no longer has any authority to use on
behalf of Parliament.'

'Indeed.' Coningsby
inclined his head, showed his teeth in false humour. 'And I will ensure that
his freedom is also compromised— if not his life.'

'Is there nothing I can do,
sir, to appeal to your sense of justice, your compassion?'

'No. I think not.'
Regardless of good manners and the respect due to a lady, or perhaps in
deliberate rejection of them, he took his seat in the carved chair of the
Governor, even though she still stood before him.

'I disagree, sir.' She
walked to stand beside the massive table that dominated the room.
I can appeal to your greed.

'So, what are you
suggesting, Lady Mansell?'

'I have something that I
know you covet above all things.' She had told Francis that Katherine's
miniature was all that she had to give. But she had lied. She had a far more
valuable possession. The curve of her lips was equally a denial of her true
sentiments, but she kept a firm hold on her fears and her temper. 'Something
that you covet even more than the death of my husband.'

From her muff, with slow
deliberation, she extracted the document that she had last shown to Mary, and
placed it on the table before her. It was tantalisingly out of Coningsby's
reach. He would have to stretch to take it. Or leave his entrenched position.
Honoria knew it and waited, head tilted.

'You have no legal right to
Leintwardine,' she informed him lightly, as if they might be discussing the
weather. 'You cannot confiscate it with the rest of my lord's property because
it is part of my jointure, and by law I am not responsible for my husband's
treason. The manor remains mine and the law will not support you. But I have,
here, the deed.'

'And?' His eyes gleamed,
locked on the desired document. Fingers curled.

'I have signed it and made
it over to you, sir. The Manor of Leintwardine is yours.'

'Under what terms, Lady
Mansell?' She saw his hands clench into fists, the muscles in his narrow jaw
tighten.

'Do you need to ask? The
terms are that you release my husband.'

Two days later, Honoria was
shown into the town house of the Hopton family in Ludlow and, on her request,
led to the relative privacy of a small parlour rather than the family
withdrawing-room, where she sank to a chair.

'Honor. I have been so
worried.' Mary lost no time in joining her, grasping her hands and pulling her
to her feet in her agitation. 'Have you seen Sir William Croft? Did you go to
Hereford?'

'What news have you of
Francis?' Joshua interrupted, hard on the heels of his sister. 'So far I have
dissuaded Priam Davies from marching on Hereford with his troop, but he
becomes more reluctant to hold back by the day. If Francis is still prisoner,
then I think he—'

'He is to be released.'
Honoria raised a hand to interrupt. 'Under the protection of Sir William, I
believe, at first. And then he will be free to go where he wishes.' She spoke
automatically, as if reciting the words from memory.

'How in God's name did you
achieve that?' The astonishment was clear in Joshua's face, disbelief even. 'I
cannot imagine what might persuade Coningsby to part with such a boost to his
own consequence. Unless it be a fortune in gold!'

'Not quite that. I have no
such resources. But I made a bargain with him. Very much to his advantage.' Her
glance met Mary's, who immediately understood but said nothing, responding to
the unspoken plea to remain silent. 'All that matters is that Coningsby has
agreed.'

'When do you expect him
home? Will he come to Ludlow?' Mary asked, forestalling her brother, who would
have questioned Honoria further about the release.

'I believe...' Her words
dried. Her face became even paler against the deep blue velvet.

'What is it, Honoria?'

She ran her tongue over dry
lips and dropped her eyes to where her hands clasped her muff. 'I believe that
my lord will be free tomorrow, delivered to Croft Castle. And then...'

'But that is wonderful.'
Mary frowned at her friend's obvious distress. 'Will you join him there?'

'No.' Her voice was low,
but quite clear and decided.

'But, Honoria—'

'I came to tell you. It is
my intention to go to London. I will take Mistress Morgan and Master Foxton
with me. If Mansell...if Francis should come here to enquire after me, would
you give him this letter when he arrives and assure him of my safety?' She rose
to her feet and placed the letter with careful fingers on the table.

'But, Honor, surely you—'

'No.' She shook her head,
still not willing to make eye contact. 'I was allowed to see him in Hereford
Castle. It...it was not an easy meeting. It will be for the best if I am not
here when Francis arrives, I think.'

'But why?' Joshua demanded.
'I see no sense in this. Surely Francis will want to see you as soon as he is
released? The last thing he would want is for you to be on your way to London!'

'Dear Josh. You don't
realise...' She touched his arm lightly and then drew back, to put distance
between them. 'All I can remember is the look in his eyes when Coningsby's men
bound him. His words... And his cold reserve when I saw him in Hereford. He
blames me, you see. He does not want me...' For a brief moment she covered her
face with her hands, and then let them drop to her sides. 'There is too much
behind us, too many misunderstandings and suspicions. I don't want to stay here
to face him. I do not think that I can bear it.'

'Don't go, Honoria.' Mary
refused to allow the distance between them, stepping forward to put a
comforting arm around her shoulders. 'You must talk to Francis about this. You
know that you must.'

'I cannot. Not yet. I have
written everything here.' She touched the letter for the final time with
fingers that were not quite steady. She smiled her gratitude for Mary's
understanding. 'He will know where to find me.'

'Promise me that you will
talk to him. Tell him of your feelings.'

'I promise...if the
opportunity should arise.' Although she doubted that it would. 'And thank you.
I am sorry if I am difficult!' She kissed Mary lightly on the cheek, then moved
out of the shelter of her arm to walk towards the door.

Joshua cast a helpless
glance at Mary, at a loss during this interchange, but his sister shook her
head and frowned. About to ask what was going on, he changed his mind to
address the travel arrangements for so long a journey.

'Francis would not want you
to travel alone. He would never forgive me if I allowed it.'

'I will take Sir William's
escort. They brought me back to Ludlow. He would not object if I make further
use of them, I know. Tell Francis...' What could she say? What could she say to
the man whom she loved more than pride, more than property, more than life
itself?

Nothing seemed to be
enough. 'Tell him that I shall open up Ingram House in London. He can find me
there if he wishes it.'

'God keep you.' Mary's face
was wet with tears, but she made no more attempt to detain her. 'We will meet
again. I know it.'

'If God wills it.'

And then Honoria was gone,
leaving Joshua to demand that his sister inform him what in Heaven's name was
going on.

'Should we have let her
go?' Mary paced the room anxiously after she had told him.

'What choice did we have?'

'None, I suppose.'

'I only hope that Francis
sees it in the same light when he arrives here to claim his wife!'

'At last. We expected you
yesterday.' At the Hopton town house Sir Joshua clasped Mansell's hand in
undisguised relief and an underlying current of apprehension. 'For the past
forty-eight hours Priam has been muttering about launching an assault on
Hereford Castle!'

'Josh. It's good to be
here—anywhere but in Fitzwilliam Coningsby's vicinity. But never mind that.'
Mansell returned the handclasp. Impatience radiated from him, fatigue
imprinting his face with harsh lines, but he still carried himself with easy,
athletic grace. 'Where is my wife?' He took a deep breath to steady himself.
'Brampton House is closed up and, if she isn't here, as your servant informed
me, then I cannot think where she would go in the county. Sir William and Lady
Eleanor, of course, at Croft Castle, even the
Scudamores
,
but I know she is not there.'

The door opened quietly
allowing Mary to join them. She had thought about making herself scarce, but
decided that she could not throw her brother to the lions. Or, in this case, a
dragon breathing fire. She could not expect Francis to receive their news with
equanimity. It was not in his nature to practise patience—Honoria's flight
would without doubt stir the glowing cinders into a raging inferno. She
flinched at the prospect, but could not retreat. And besides, she felt that it
was her duty—on behalf of her dear friend, of course—to have a few well-chosen
words with my lord Mansell. Which would inform him of the truth, as well as
point out the error of his ways.

'What is it? What's wrong?'
Mansell caught the quick glance that passed between the two. 'I presume from
your guilty expression that you know something that I will not like!'

'Honoria has gone to
London,' Mary stated baldly. There was no point in sidestepping the point at
issue.

'What? London?' He was
clearly stunned. 'Why London? Has she gone back to Sir Robert Denham's family?
But why would she do that?'

'She left you this letter.'
Joshua took it from his pocket, held it out. 'She says that it will explain
all.'

'I think it would take a
ream
of manuscripts to explain it all! Not one sheet of
paper!' Instantly regretting his uncontrolled words, damning himself for
allowing emotion to rule and painfully aware of Mary's scowl, he snatched the
letter and prepared to break the seal.

'So how was your short stay
with Governor Coningsby?' Josh interrupted to forestall his sister from speaking
her mind.

'Uncomfortable but
uneventful. I do not recommend Hereford Castle for a long stay. I did not know
Coningsby before this incident— and now have no further desire to do so. He is
a weasel, the like of which I have never met.'

'But at least you are here.
And not on your way under armed escort to London.' Josh glanced again at Mary,
brows raised in query. How much would Francis know? Should they tell him? Mary
shook her head.