Read The Monmouth Summer Online
Authors: Tim Vicary
It was too cold now to sit for long on the ground, as they had done earlier that summer. For a moment she paced up and down on the grass, and then, when no-one came, sat hunched on the roots of a beech tree, leaning her back against the smooth trunk and listening to the sough of the wind in the branches overhead. She wondered if Robert would come, and if he did, what he would say.
The wind strengthened, and a shower rattled down on the remaining leaves out of a darkened sky. She shivered, and wrapped her brown cloak closer round her, glad that she had thought to bring it. Perhaps he would not come at all. But she would not go until it began to get dark; they could not think any worse of her at home than they did already.
A red squirrel scurried down the trunk of a tree a few feet away, and began to scrabble amongst the roots, stopping every few seconds to look around, its body and tail frozen in perfect mid-motion. It saw her and stared for a long minute, then decided she was harmless and continued its digging. The wind eased as the squall passed; after a while Ann saw it strike at the fishing boats out at sea, and pitied the sailors as the brown sails dipped and bobbed almost out of sight between the waves.
The squirrel cocked its ears and suddenly leapt up the tree, spiralling around the trunk as it climbed, and Ann heard the slap of hooves on the path in the wood. Then Robert rode onto the hillside.
At first he did not see her, and she saw the frown on his long freckled face as he looked around him, gently patting the great bay hunter. He wore his blue uniform coat, with the short military wig, wide sword-strap and thigh-length riding boots; yet there were no pistols or armour, nothing else about him like a soldier. He sighed, and had just spurred his mount on to look elsewhere when he saw her. The great horse snorted and arched its proud neck as he reined it in.
"Ann! So you
have
come! I didn't see you!" He smiled, and she realised how much like a treestump she must seem, hunched among the roots in her brown cloak. Yet she felt her hands trembling under it; she was afraid to get up and face him.
He swung out of the saddle and left the horse free to graze, its reins over its head. He strode towards her, his hands held out, the smile mingling with the frown on his face, as always.
"Are you cold? You look like a doormouse, or a hedgepig, sitting there!"
She reached out timidly to one of the hands he offered, and let him pull her to her feet. She ventured a smile.
"I'm not that prickly, am I?"
"No. Just a trifle windblown, about the hair." He put up a hand to smooth some of her tangled locks, and she almost wept at the touch, so carefree and loving, like the time he had combed her hair in the inn. No-one touched her hair like that now.
"So. That's better. You got my message, then?"
"So it seems."
"I was afraid you would not come. You seemed ... so hurt, when we met before, and I was little help. I thought perhaps you might blame me."
"Why should I blame you? You did what you could. It was my father's choice."
"A strange choice."
"Yes." He frowned, wanting to know more but not pressing her, and she said nothing. There were still places she could not go, reminders of the execution, around the town: she did not want to speak of it.
"Why did you want to see me, Robert?" Her face was quite open as she waited for his answer, the green eyes defenceless, a trifle anxious, in the frame of auburn hair.
"Why? That's a strange question! You should know why."
"But things have changed ... "
"I have not changed."
"It's been a month since I saw you."
"Oh ho! So she is jealous, now!" He laughed - a hollow laugh that was meant to lift the conversation onto the plane of sophistication and gallant flirtation. But it fell flat. "You are not married, are you?"
It was her turn to smile at the sudden transition. "No, Rob, I'm not married." It was a sad smile, but a smile for all that.
"I thank the Lord for that! But in truth, Ann, I've been in London with the regiment. I couldn't see you sooner. I have to go back in two days."
"And you want me to go with you?"
“Well, yes." Despite what she had to tell him, she was enjoying herself; she had always enjoyed surprising him, upsetting his poise. With him a pose was not serious, as it was with her own people.
"As your mistress, then, I take it?"
He shook his head, bewildered with hope and surprise.
"Well, yes, Ann, of course. You know I couldn't marry you, however I feel. That would be, well ... "
"Impossible, because of your father, and your wealth." Her smile was broader now. It could not last.
"Yes. But I told you, Ann, it wouldn't be dishonourable, as folk might think it here. I would care for you, and get you a house, and a maid ... "
"Then I'll come."
"And you could have singing lessons, and ...
you'll come?"
If it had not been so serious she would have laughed aloud, at the thought of entrusting herself to a man with such a foolish- looking face. The mouth under the long, solemn nose hung quite open, the hazel eyes were wide and innocent as a child's. But she had to clasp her hands to stop them shaking.
"I'll come, Rob, if it's as you said before, exactly. And if you still love me when ... "
"You'll come! Annie, my love, you'll never regret it, I promise! It
will
be as I said!"
She let him embrace her, but dared not respond. He wanted to kiss her but she put her fingers on his lips.
"Rob, let me finish. Please!"
"What is it? You
have
finished!"
"I am ... with child now."
"With child?" The exultant smile faded; the frown returned.
Her throat felt dry, and her hands were shaking again. But it must be said.
"And ... it may not be your child, Robert. I hope and pray it is, and it may well be, but it may be Tom's. You remember ... "
"You lay with him to give him courage."
"Yes. Though he got none from it."
Robert's frown deepened, and Ann looked down, letting her hair fall forward over her face. She had said what she had to say. She could not bear to see him refuse.
"I'll come with you, Rob, as I said. But will you take me as I am?"
A long gust sighed through the beechwoods behind her, and a crow croaked loudly as it was blown away downwind. His hand moved her hair away from her face.
"Yes, my love. I will."
Tim Vicary is the author of over 25 books, including legal thrillers, historical novels and graded readers for foreign learners of English. He lives in the English countryside near the historic city of York, in the north east of England. You can find out more about Tim on his
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You might like to read another of Tim Vicary's historical novels. To see them online, just click on one of the links below.
Cat & Mouse
The Blood Upon the Rose
Nobody's Slave
Tim Vicary has also written a series of Legal Thrillers, about a tough barrister called Sarah Newby. The first three books in the series are:
A Game of Proof
A Fatal Verdict
Bold Counsel
.