Exile's Return Read Free Page B

face to betray nothing, but his jaw tightened and the word seemed to come through stiffened lips. ‘Worcester?’
    Longley shook his head. ‘No. Kit Lovell survived Worcester. He may even have been a prisoner like yourself … but he managed to get away. I came across him in Paris the year after Worcester, but he couldn’t settle to an exile’s life and went back to London. He kept company with others like himself. I believe they used to gather in a hostelry in the Old Bayly. What was it called … oh, yes, the Ship Inn. How could I forget – they called it the Ship Inn Plot.’
    â€˜The Ship Inn plot?’
    Longley waved a hand. ‘That was one. Kit got himself involved in several plots to overthrow Cromwell and restore the King. None had the consent of the King, and mostly they were so foolish that even Cromwell laughed and set the plotters free.’ He frowned. ‘But even the Lord Protector’s sense of humour failed when John Gerard brought over a French assassin. They may have succeeded had it not been for a traitor in their midst who betrayed them. Your brother was one of those caught and hanged.’
    The breath left Daniel’s body at the bald words “caught and hanged ” and he looked away. His invincible brother, Kit, dead at the end of a hangman’s rope – an ignoble end.
    After all the years of believing Kit dead, it was as if he had died all over again. On a subliminal level, he realised now, there had always been a hope that Kit had survived, but now a hundred thoughts crashed together. What had become of his grandfather … his mother … his sister?
    â€˜Hanged?’ he managed to say with a voice that cracked with emotion. ‘When?’
    Longley frowned. ‘It would have been the summer of ’54.’
    Daniel cleared his throat. ‘Another wrong to right when the King is restored, my lord?’
    â€˜Indeed,’ Longley replied. ‘Those who died in the King’s name will be pardoned and those, like me, who had everything stolen from them will have it returned, but what we remember so fondly may be sorely tested by reality,’ Longley said. ‘What of your home? Cheshire, I believe?’
    â€˜Eveleigh Priory, about five miles out of Chester, but as you say, the word “home” is an illusion, my lord. Parliament’s men, led by a man by the name of Tobias Ashby, destroyed it in ’48. My mother and sister were living in a few surviving rooms, reliant on Kit for whatever money he could spare.’ He paused and shook his head. ‘With my brother dead, I have no idea what has become of my family.’
    Longley’s moustache twitched. ‘Have you had no contact with them?’
    Daniel shook his head. ‘No. While I was plying my dubious trade as a privateer, I considered it prudent to leave my mother and sister in the belief I was probably dead. How many times can you ask your family to grieve for one person?’
    Longley considered him for a long moment. ‘Why would your family have believed you dead?’
    Daniel switched his gaze to a far corner of the room. ‘They sent me to Barbados,’ he said. ‘How many return from that hellhole?’
    Longley frowned, and probably would have continued his interrogation had it not been for the appearance of Sir Edward Hyde, pushing his way through the patrons to where they sat in their dark corner.
    â€˜You were not easy to find,’ Hyde complained as he sat down, unbidden, and summoned the tap boy for another jar of ale.
    â€˜I wasn’t aware you were looking for us?’ Longley leaned back in his chair and picked up his ale.
    â€˜The King has a mission for you, Lovell,’ Hyde said without preamble.
    Daniel looked at the man. ‘But the King knows nothing of me. Why would he entrust me with a mission?’
    Hyde’s moustache twitched. ‘Whatever else the King may be, he is a shrewd judge