Babette did not wait. Going to the door, she called out in a loud voice, asking their visitor to give his name and state his business.
‘We barred our doors, for we did not know who you were, sir,’ she said. ‘We are a house of women and dare not admit strangers in such fearful times.’
‘Is that Lady Graham?’
‘No, her niece, Mistress Harvey.’
‘I am second cousin to Sir Matthew—and I come in friendship. My name is James Colby.’
‘Open the door,’ Aunt Minnie said, looking relieved. ‘Sir James may enter, but his men must remain outside until my husband returns.’
Babette lifted the bar cautiously, peeping round the door. Her first glimpse was of a tall, commanding figure. The stranger had removed his hat, and she could see that he was dark-haired with eyes of grey, a firm hard chin and a mouth that at this moment looked stern and angry.
‘My aunt says she will admit you, sir, but your men must remain outside until my uncle returns.’
‘They are tired and weary from the road, lady,’ Sir James said with a sigh, his eyes narrowed and his manner harsh. ‘It seems that this is Royalist territory, but I thought we would receive a better welcome from my cousin’s house.’
Babette pushed a lock of pale hair back beneath the modest cap she was wearing. Despite his expression, she decided that the stranger looked more weary than dangerous and stood back to allow him to enter. Sympathy was in her voice as she said, ‘If your men would care to go inside the barn and rest, I am sure we could send food and refreshments to them, sir.’
‘Thank you, mistress,’ Sir James said. His gaze focused on her for the first time and he made a jerky movement with his hand; for a moment the expression in his eyes made her fear, for it was such a strange, intense look he gave her, a flame deep in his eyes—but then he smiled. When he smiled it was as if he were a different man, his eyes almost silver and lit from within.
Babette’s heart caught oddly, because his smile was most pleasant, even though he had confessed himself for Parliament and was therefore her enemy. He turned and directed his men towards the barn, and they dismounted leading their horses towards the shelter it offered.
‘Sir James, forgive us,’ Aunt Minnie said, coming forward. ‘Sir Matthew has gone down to the long field to cut the wheat and most of the servants are with him. We were afraid of so large a party of men coming to the house and locked our doors. Will you not step into the parlour, sir? We shall give you food and drink, and my husband will be here shortly to speak with you himself.’
‘Yes, thank you kindly, Lady Graham.’ He had taken off his hat now, and Babette saw that his hair was longer than the style adopted by many of those who had joined the ranks of Parliament and were known as Puritans, because of their strict views on religion and private life. His clothes were of a sober hue, dark grey with a sash of yellow across his chest, a leather belt, which held a plain scabbard and his sword, gloves of buff leather and long black boots. His collar was white linen with a small edging of embroidery. Most men of the Puritan persuasion allowed themselves no ornament of any kind, perhaps to set themselves aside from the Cavaliers who delighted in finery and the latest fal-lals.
Hurrying to the kitchen, Babette spoke to Maria, arranging for food and drink to be carried to the men outside. She poured ale into a pewter jug, set fresh bread, a small crock of butter, cheese, a cold chop of pig meat and a bowl of her aunt’s best pickles upon a tray, adding a slice of apple pie with cinnamon she’d made earlier that morning. Carrying it into the parlour where her aunt was still speaking with Sir Matthew’s cousin, she set it down on the table.
His gaze went appreciatively over the food offered. ‘You have been most generous, mistress. I thank you for your kindness. My men will be grateful for whatever you have. We have ridden for several days, finding food where we could. Since we encountered the enemy in a skirmish some days ago, we have been without some of our baggage. Some householders have been kind enough, but others made it clear we were not welcome.’
‘We are at war, sir, and not everyone is of your persuasion. Some would feel you are rebels—traitors.’ Babette had spoken without thinking and she saw the flash of fire in his eyes. She saw a nerve flick at his temple and his hands clenched. He was clearly angry, though he struggled to control it.
‘The King is the traitor to his country,’ he said harshly. ‘It was he that imposed the tax of ship money on us, he that imposed the iniquitous Star Chamber—and he that tried to arrest the five members.’
‘He tried to arrest them because they defied their King,’ she replied, angry in her turn. Her head went up, and, had she known it, her eyes flashed in temper. ‘If the King needs money for a war and the Parliament will not grant it, he must impose taxes whether they be popular or not...’ She faltered as she saw the leap of answering fury in his eyes, then, aware that she had pushed him too far, said more hesitantly, ‘That was my father’s opinion...’
‘Then he would be for the King,’ Sir James said. ‘I had thought this household for Parliament—am I wrong?’
‘Take no notice of Babette,’ Aunt Minnie said soothingly. ‘She is but a girl and talks of what she does not understand. Sir Matthew, like many others, does not take one side or the other, sir, but hopes only for peace—though he will tell you himself, for here he comes.’
She breathed a sigh of relief as her husband walked in and pushed Babette before her from the room. Only when in the kitchen did she speak to her niece.
‘You should be more careful, Niece. I know your father was a true Royalist and that may be your persuasion, as it may be mine, but we must keep silent, especially when there are men of another persuasion in the house, dearest.’
‘Yes, forgive me, Aunt. I should not have spoken so to a guest, even if I was angered by his views. It was rude and immodest of me.’
‘Your uncle might think it immodest and perhaps Sir James might find you impertinent, but I do not blame you—though I caution you not to speak so frankly before your uncle.’
‘Forgive me. I do not know what made me lose my temper.’
Yet she knew only too well. It was the man with the eyes of cold steel who looked at her so arrogantly that she had wanted to strike him and had spoken thoughtlessly.
‘You are entitled to your own views, Babette—but it is best not to speak them in Sir Matthew’s house.’
‘Is my uncle of their persuasion, Aunt?’
‘I would not say that he was for Parliament. Sir Matthew is against any war that sets brother against brother and father against son. He cares for his land and would see it prosper. War is dangerous, Babette. Tempers rise and terrible things are said and done. As yet we have lived quietly here—but for how long can it continue? This is the first time soldiers have come to our door and they came in peace—but others may demand where Sir James requests. I think it will not be long before the whole country is aflame and then we shall all have to choose one way or the other.’
‘Yes, I know, Aunt.’ Babette was thoughtful. Her uncle had said little about the outcome of the first battle of the war at Edge Hill. The matter of who had won depended on whose side you supported, for some declared that it was a victory for the King, while others thought the men of Parliament might have won a decisive victory had they held on a little longer. In the months since that first battle there
