“Let me light you to your room, Mistress Jane,” he said, picking up the candle from the table.
“I’ll do it, Your Majesty,” Henry said, rising.
“Sit, Lascelles,” Charles said, and it was not a request. “I said I’ll light the lady’s way.”
Henry bowed his head in assent, though Jane could practically hear the questions and protests in his mind.
“Good night, Henry,” she said demurely, not meeting his eyes. “I’ll see you on the morrow.”
Candle in hand, Charles led the way down the passage. He loomed before her in the darkness, the candlelight silhouetting him in its golden glow. In a moment they would be alone. Her heart beat faster at the thought of his arms around her, his mouth on hers. But to Jane’s disappointment, when they got to her room he opened the door for her but did not follow her inside. She looked up at him, not quite daring to reach out a hand to touch him, to tilt her head back and draw him into a kiss. He took her hand, turned it over, and the feel of his lips on her palm made her belly contract with desire.
“I’ll go back to your cousin now, sweet Jane.”
No, Jane thought, don’t go.
Charles smiled and stroked her cheek, as if reading her thoughts. “Henry has hazarded his life for my safety, and I would not cause him unease or make him think I regard you with less than honourable respect, which indeed I do not.”
“Then good night, sir,” Jane said, turning.
“But, Jane,” Charles said, stopping the door with his foot, “I’ll see you in my dreams, make no mistake.”
THE WAY TO ABBOTS LEIGH LAY THROUGH BRISTOL. THIS WAS THE most dangerous part of the journey yet, as Charles had spent some months there during the war and might be recognised, though he had aged from the sixteen-year-old boy who had left to the man he was today. Still, it was risky. Henry rode ahead, and Jane could see his shoulders tighten with tension as the increased traffic on the road told them they must be close to the city. His hand strayed to feel for the pistol at his belt, and he eyed passing strangers warily, as though a bent old woman with a flock of geese might be hiding a Parliamentary trooper beneath her skirts.
At length the towering city walls with their arched gates rose ahead.
“Lawford’s Gate,” Charles said over his shoulder to Jane. “The last time I was here the mayor met me with a crowd of dignitaries to welcome me.”
“Better we find our own way today,” Jane said.
Charles pulled his hat lower over his brow as they followed Henry through the massive portal and into the open marketplace, with a castle beyond. The streets were bustling with people on foot and on horseback, with wagons and carts, and with sheep and cattle. Wolverhampton was the biggest town Jane had ever been in, and this was far bigger, she realised with excitement.
“Is London like this?” she asked in Charles’s ear.
“London?” he laughed. “No, this is nothing to London. It’s a good city, though; I liked it here and was sorry to leave. Do you know, I have a month’s mind to see what progress was made on the fortifications since then.” He spurred the horse forward to ride up next to Henry.
“We’ve plenty of daylight left to reach Abbots Leigh,” he said in a low voice. “Let’s ride to St Michael’s Hill to see what became of our works after Oliver took the city.”
Henry glanced around them. People everywhere, including many soldiers. Jane could see him forming his words carefully.
“Is it wise? The sooner you are safely out of the city the better.”
“But half an hour,” Charles said cheerfully. “Humour me. Come, I cannot tell when I may chance to be in Bristol again.”
Before Henry could answer, Charles rode ahead and set off on a street branching away from the marketplace. He seemed infused with a new vigour and excitement, his head held higher, his back straighter. Despite his plain clothes, he looked like a king, Jane thought with both pride and alarm as she wrapped her arms tighter around him.
“The Royal Fort.” Charles pointed as the walls to the northwest of the city came into view. “We rebuilt that when we took the city in ’44, and did much else to strengthen the line of the defences.”
Henry rode beside them, his professional interest as a soldier overcoming his caution, and Charles carried on his commentary in a low voice. It was a beautiful day, a fresh breeze blowing off the water, feathery clouds scudding above, the river full of shipping, the quays swarming with sailors and with dockworkers loading and unloading the ships that rode at anchor.
“My lodgings were just there,” Charles said, pointing out a tall house that rose on a hillside. “And look, there’s the fish peddler my cook used to buy from.”
“Then perhaps we had better ride further from him,” Jane murmured.
“You’re right. And probably time that we made for Abbots Leigh anyway.”
“High time,” Jane heard Henry mutter.
Charles wheeled his horse away from the fort. The hilly streets wound up and down, and just as it seemed to Jane as if they must be heading back the way they had come, Charles reined in and came to a halt. Henry rode up next to him with an inquiring glance.
“Hmm,” Charles said. “I was sure this was the right road.” He glanced behind them and then ahead. “But it doesn’t look at all familiar now. Of course the city has changed …”
Passersby were noting them and Jane felt very conspicuous. She glanced anxiously at Henry and saw that his jaw was tight and his face reddening.
“Let me see now,” Charles muttered. “There’s the sun, so that’s west. We want to go west and north, more or less, once we cross the river, but surely we must go further south first. No, I must have missed a turning.”
He rode confidently back the way they had come and turned into another street about halfway down the hill, and then into another. But they seemed no nearer the river, and Jane could feel Henry’s increasing agitation. A few minutes longer and she was truly worried. The map had shown the general route to Abbots Leigh, but she had no idea how long it would take them to reach it, and the sun was dropping low over the horizon.
“Perhaps we should ask someone,” she ventured, but she wasn’t sure it was the wisest course. As urgent as it was to find their way, any interaction with strangers could bring calamity upon them. Suppose they had the ill luck to speak to someone who recognised the king’s face? The thousand-pound reward was a mighty inducement to betray him, and if they were lost they would have no hope of escaping if they were pursued. She glanced around to see what passersby looked least threatening, and was alarmed to see a small party of soldiers emerging from a tavern a little way ahead, their voices ringing out with boisterous laughter.
“No, I’m sure this must be right now,” Charles said, spurring the horse into a trot down the hill. The road did bring them to an area more heavily peopled, and Jane thought they must be near the quays now, but once more Charles stopped. An inn stood at one side of the road, and a sturdily built ostler was just unhitching a horse from a cart.
“Good even, brother,” Charles called out, and the man glanced up. No light of recognition showed in his eyes, Jane was relieved to see, as they rode closer.
“Like a fool, I’ve lost my way,” Charles said, his words thick with the accent of Staffordshire. “Would you be good enough to tell me how to find the Redcliffe Gate afore my mistress boxes my ears?”
It didn’t take much acting for Jane to look thoroughly annoyed,