Divided Majesty

By Michael Ball

Set before the English Civil War in the late 1630s, near the village of Weme, in Shropshire, the story follows Emily Trewlawny, her Royalist farming family, and the ensuing struggle before her sea captain father returns home.

Whilst at the same time, the Pyms, a Parliamentarian family, living two miles apart, with opposite beliefs, find their friendship through circumstance lead on to their alliance against the Royalist community. Conflict ensues, involving murder and a hair-raising stagecoach ride, the ultimate showdown, when in the pursuit of a possible guilty party, when the hiding of an accused causes the inevitable conflict.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Aug 19, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483676517

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Copyright © 2013 by Michael Ball.

ISBN:          Softcover                                 978-1-4836-7650-0

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4836-7651-7

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. Date: 07/26/2013

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Contents

Chapter One- Mysterious Beginnings

Chapter Two- A Sad Conclusion

Chapter Three- Watermill Farm

Chapter Four- Watery Mend

Chapter Five- A Jaded Attempt

Chapter Six- Friends for Sale

Chapter Seven- A Romantic Interlude

Chapter Eight- Adventure to Contention

Chapter Nine- Disturbing Events

Chapter Ten- An Unwelcome Visitor

Chapter Eleven- Rescue at Weme

Chapter Twelve- Escape to Danger

Chapter Thirteen- Seeking Refuge

Chapter Fourteen- The Wayfarer

Chapter Fifteen- On Board

Chapter Sixteen- The Stage

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen- Rough Riding Home

Chapter Nineteen- A Foreign Town

Chapter Twenty- United Majesty

To Violet B, an inspiration, a life saver, and my dearest friend.

Chapter One

Mysterious Beginnings

S ome years before the outcome of the English Civil War of 1640, two farming families living three miles apart near the village of Weme, in Shropshire, later to be shortened to Wem during the reign of Charles II, had inherited loyalties, which were tested as were many in these times, with tragic and inevitable bloody consequences.

Two roads divided at an old windmill—one went down to a wooded valley, the other rose to a pine-clad spinney, in the rolling tree-clad hills of Shropshire, in the heart of England; diverged the main thoroughfare to a manor house of impressive standing with six bedrooms, a lake, and an orchard, all built by a member of the King’s navy some fifty years before; the other road wended down a winding lane on its precarious way past an almost derelict three-bedroomed farmhouse, near a fast-moving river, bordered on one side by farmland and on the other, rising westward to the moors and down into the next county.

Making changes to the unwelcoming hobble had taken them months to make it habitable enough to sit down without the wind howling through the doors and the slightest of rain seeping from a neglected thatch on the dining room table.

With some help from neighbourly locals and like-minded souls, six months down the line, John Pym, his wife, son, and young daughter were over the worst. Having had the advantage of moving in at springtime, by the end of summer, gave them sufficient time to make a living before the harshness of winter set in.

The two and a half miles separating the two dwellings were sufficient barrier that for some time neither knew of the other. For although they lived two or three miles part, they may as well have been on another continent, in their way of life, tradition, and status.

Positioned in an idyllic setting three miles south of the nearest village, the manor house with its white walls, Roman-pillared porchway, and marble flooring was worthy of the status of the King’s leading servant. It was built in the late sixteenth century by a former admiral—who committed suicide after his wife and daughter lost their lives in the small lake near the west of ‘the globe’, as it was then called, later to be changed to ‘Redfern’, by the new owner—and bequeathed to his grandson and heir, Roland Trewlawny. The tragedy and loss of the then sea admiral was witnessed by the servants, when the nine-year-old daughter, Miriam, was hypnotised by the calling of a mysterious child from the island in the lake. Miriam attempted to walk across the water to join the apparition. When her maid alerted her mother, she dived in to rescue her drowning daughter, although she herself couldn’t swim. Alas, both went under.

Heartbroken when returning from sea, Admiral Benson Naysmith never recovered and blamed himself for the tragedy and so he decided to take his life at sea. With a lock of hair of his wife and daughter hidden in his pocket, he jumped overboard, to leave his ship without a commander thirty miles out of Cardiff, in the Bristol Channel. It is to this sad history that Roland, already serving in the navy, moved in to the mansion, with his eight-year-old daughter and twelve-year-old son, and a wife unhappy at the thought of him being away so long.

When they first arrived at the mansion, Emily, the daughter, was not warned of the sad circumstances of the Naysmiths but was commanded under no circumstances to breach the fence bordering the garden, facing the reservoir. Being an eight-year-old she was fascinated by the mystery beyond the brambles and its distant island, which was protected by an old wooden fence being gradually overgrown with thorns and ivy, like a bar to another world.

As the months of excitement to the new surroundings wore off, Emily was given a kitten as a goodbye softener when her father left on one of his long voyages, a kitten that was often chased in play in the nearby garden. One morning, without her mother or brother’s knowledge, the animal strayed out of the garden, with little Emily calling out her name. Finally, moving along the border, almost in tears, she saw the animal through a small gap in the hedge, where she could now hear her distressed call, being caught in the choking bramble. Squeezing her hand through, with her little fingers getting pricked, she attempted to reach out, but the cat disappeared along the lakeside path, with her owner calling in concern. Slowly and intuitively, with a calming voice she could see her approaching the water’s edge. ‘Come here, Mandy, come on, come here, it’s only me,’ she called, stretching her arms out slowly, ready to pounce as the cat was only a few feet away. ‘Gotcha!’ she exclaimed, grabbing her by the tail to almost fall down the muddy bankside. She pressed the dear cat to her cheek. ‘Don’t ever do that again. You’re my friend. Do you hear?’ she said and caressed her tighter than ever. ‘Mummy will be naughty if you do that again.’

‘Mummy will be angry with me too,’ Emily said and almost dropped the cat, as the air suddenly picked up and became colder. Scared to turn around, she jumped as a sound pierced the stillness, a sound from across the water. A shiver went down her body, hearing a voice time and again across the water. Moving to an open space between the bulrushes, she could almost feel the presence touching her as she was afraid to raise her eyes. Looking through the open space in the reeds, she looked out onto the island to see a small white figure.

‘I’m your friend too, Massie. Come and join me. I’m so alone.’ Emily moved behind the reeds as though for protection, but the presence had disappeared. ‘Over here. Can you see me, over here?’ Climbing on the fence, she stretched to see over the bulrushes further along but was caught in the brambles.

‘Damn!’ Her foot slipped. ‘Oh, I shouldn’t say that. Sorry, Mandy,’ she said, holding on to dear life, the kitten pressed to her chest. She moved another clump of reeds and almost fell in the water. She could now see the island again and called out, ‘Where are you?’ But all was silent. The kitten became restless and sounded distressed as though she was crying. ‘Shush, girl, I’m here,’ she pacified the kitten and held her more closely. For comfort, Emily began to speak to the kitten. ‘What was that, pussy?’ confiding in her as though she was human. Finally, moving along the pathway, she came to a larger break in the reeds. Holding the kitten up in the direction of the open water, she could now see the whole of the island, with pine trees and an old ruin in its centre. For a moment, her mind was freed of eerie thoughts by the beautiful serene view: the large water lilies, two swans silently gliding over the service as though they were from a dream, and birdsong carried over the misty waters like an ancient sound from another time. ‘There, you see, we’ll get a boat someday and go over there.’ It was then that her eyes were suddenly held by a figure coming out of the trees, gliding nearer the water as though it was dry land. Emily’s eyes were fixed on the girl, and she almost dropped her kitten.

‘I’m here, Massie, your friend. Remember me? Come and join me. I’m so lonely,’ she beckoned, which sounded like a dying plea, her arms outstretched as though she was pulling someone in.

‘I’m coming, I’m coming, don’t be sad, I’m coming.’ Emily dropped her kitten and stepped nearer the water’s edge, not noticing that her kitten had slid through her fingers and down into the reeds, oblivious to her whimpering, as Massie’s voice continued to beckon.

‘Come over, don’t be afraid. Trust me, I’ll save you.’ Mesmerised by the distant white figure, she slowly sank into the lake, gasping for breath, which first came to her waist, then unbalanced as she sank deeper, with arms splashing for air as it came over her shoulders while bobbing under to surface a second for breath. Onward and onward she went, only to eventually lose her footing and splashing furiously with her head, staying under, each time longer than before, still hearing and trusting the voice that kept coming and going as she attempted to breathe. Although her arms were growing weaker, there was a stronger force holding her under as she stared into the underworld, a quiet helplessness saying, ‘Do not struggle. You’re safe with me,’ at which the will to fight had gone. Out of nowhere, like the flapping tail of a serpent, the gushing water thrust her to the surface. Emily thought, ‘It must be the girl. She’s come to save me.’ Then a familiar voice invaded her belief.

‘Emily, Emily! I’ve got you, I’ve got you. It’s me, it’s me. I’ll save you!’ It was Dane, her brother. He pulled her to the surface, dragged her to the water’s edge, and slid into some thickly covered rushes. Laying her down on her stomach, he frantically pressed her spine as her face tilted down near the muddy bank. Water gushed from her mouth like a partly blocked pump. Emily began to cough and splutter as she gasped for air. ‘You’re all right, Emmy. You’re going to be all right,’ said Dane. She turned over to look skyward, with muddied face and streaming eyes.

‘I was almost near her. You stopped me. She’s lonely and sad and wanted—’ She coughed and coughed as the last of the water seeped from her mouth. ‘A friend, a friend, she wanted a friend,’ Emmy concluded. Dane thought she was delirious and placed both hands on her cheek.

‘Don’t say anymore. We’ll get you back to the house.’ He lifted her up and slid back to sink one foot in the water. ‘Wow! That was close. I nearly joined you that time.’

‘Won’t you go and bring her back? Please bring her back. She’s lonely.’ Dane ignored her, seeing she needed to be home. Emily’s head rested on a soaking white scarf. Kneeling down, Dane sat her upright to reveal what he thought was hers.

‘Is this yours?’ he asked.

She blinked to make sense of the object. ‘No, that must be Massie’s, the one she was calling to.’

‘Dane, did you have a friend?’

He thought what a strange question it was. ‘I’m your friend, you silly.’

‘That girl, that lonely girl was calling for her… the one—’ She cleared her throat and turned towards the island and continued, ‘the one in the white dress.’ Dane stood up and looked around before moving Emily further on up the bank.

‘There’s no one here, Emily—only you and me.’

‘What about Mandy?’ She became anxious and spread her hands through the grass stretching to the reeds.

‘Did you bring the kitten, near the water?’ Her head looked down into the lake. ‘Are you sure she was with you?’ He thought she was hallucinating again.

‘That’s the reason I was here. She led me through the fence. I must, I must find her.’ Emily climbed to the bank and began to shout her name.

‘It’s no use. She doesn’t understand,’ Dane placed his arm around his sister to stop her wandering to the water’s edge. ‘Stay here, Emily. I’ll search along the bank and down in the water. Stay here.’

Her brother was ten but felt obligated like a father to his daughter, more so when two years ago their mother, Diane, had lost a baby girl in childbirth. It didn’t help that Roland, her father, was at sea most of the year and not able to give the love he felt children deserved. With the situation seeming hopeless, Emily began to cry, with muddy hands all over her face and soaking wet. The world had given her a storm on a summer’s day, a severe blow, for her love was centred on that little kitten more than any dolls, family ties, and imaginary friends. Hearing her sobbing, Dane, with a disappointed look came back to comfort her. ‘Come on, I’ll take you to the house and come back straightaway with the servants, and we’ll do our best. I promise you.’ Emily wouldn’t leave at first until a shiver reminded her how wet her clothes were. Dane broke down the fence and carried her through. He felt like a hero, a shepherd rescuing a lamb, a story his mother had read many times.

Chapter Two

A Sad Conclusion

H er mother almost fainted when they entered the kitchen and her son explained the incident that had just taken place; she realised the worst had almost come to pass. Hugging her little daughter, mud and all, she became more tearful, but all her daughter could go on about was her kitten, and that she would never see her again. Diane looked at one and then the other. ‘The lake, that damned whirlpool! Get some towels and ask the servants for clean clothes.’ Placing her bosom to her daughter’s face, she already suspected the cause and reason; all the same, not wanting her to know, she asked what happened. ‘Well, how did it happen?’ both tried to talk at once. Diane indicated for Emily to speak. Emily explained as her mother took off her clothes and dried her down with an apron, until one of the servants came in with a clean towel. After hearing the tale and Dane’s heroics, she remarked. ‘It was a good job it wasn’t winter. We might have had worse to cope with.’ She drew her son to one side, whispering as she led him into the hall while her daughter began to dress. ‘Thank God, my son, I can’t thank you enough.’

Dane said, ‘The servants alerted him when dinner was due. They saw the broken fence and shouted to me in the stables.’

Diane continued to watch Emily all the time. ‘You know the story of the little girl, don’t you?’

He nodded. ‘Is it anything to do with that?’ She had revealed it some months ago to her son but didn’t want to ignite Emily’s curiosity as she thought there might be some truth in the matter. Dane nodded solemnly.

‘Yes, Mom, but I didn’t believe it.’ He hesitated and immediately added, ‘Well, not until now. You see there was this scarf, you see.’ He placed his hand in his pocket and opened his palm, placing the scarf on the table.

‘That could be anybody’s, not even related,’ Diane said, trying to dispel any thoughts of unworldly spirits, but her son had other ideas as he picked it up again.

‘Yes but look,’ he opened it up, ‘it’s so clean, wet but see almost brand new.’

Diane examined the cloth. ‘It’s well made, maybe silk.’ She unfolded one of the corners. ‘Initials M and U.’ Dane remembered his sister’s haunting words.

‘She said she heard a child from the island calling for Massie.’

Diane threw the scarf on the table. ‘Have Mary or Jessica dispose of it, and don’t let on where it came from. Don’t tell Emily what we know, whatever happens. When your father gets back, we’ll see if we can drain the lake. As far as I know, there’s no source. It should be straightforward.’

Dane faced his mother. ‘But, Mum, maybe I could do it.’

‘No, no, it’s not as easy as you think. The nearest river is a quarter-mile away down in the hollow. Roland explained once but never got round to it. Surely, now we can do something about it.’

‘Okay, I’ll fix the fence as soon as I’ve—’ Suddenly, his dirty hands reminded him of the task he’d promised his sister. ‘The kitten, Mum. I’ve got to find her for Emily.’

‘Oh no, the poor thing. She’s only had her for two weeks.’ Diane urged her son to go as Emily entered the kitchen.

‘All right, Mum?’ she stood in the doorway for approval.

‘That’s better but wait. What’s that on your arm?’ Emily looked down and was reminded of the pain.

‘Ooh, it hurts. Jessica was a bit rough and annoyed with me, I think.’ A long scratch mark was still bleeding and made Diane see red.

‘Jessica, Jessica, come here! Use this cloth to dab your arm, my dear. I’ll see that servant’s job is done right, or she’ll be out. Jessica, a recent employee, was there on a previous servant’s recommendation. She was a young, plump, and fierce-looking girl with wild eyes. All the same, she seemed eager for the position and lived near ‘Redfern’. Jessica came in out of breath with a ‘what’s wrong now?’ look on her face. Diane presented her with the arm of Emily. ‘What’s this! Did you cause this scratch?’ Jessica heaved a sigh.

‘I, I don’t think so, Emily, did I?’

Emily replied, ‘I did yell out, but you said, Oh, shut up. I think you said you were busy, or something.’

‘Busy? You’re kept busy because we tell you so. Busy keeps you in work, remember that, in pocket and not out on a limb, out on the streets.’ Diane became more annoyed by Jessica’s lack of attention as she kept turning her head as if she was above instruction.

‘My nails! I didn’t mean that, my lady.’ She looked at her hands. ‘I must get them cut.’

‘You’d better, and no more up at eight. I’ll expect seven from tomorrow. I’ve been easy too long. If you and I are to reach an understanding, it had better be from now. The next time will be too late. Do you understand?’ she waited.

‘Yes, Ma’am.’

‘Yes, my lady, okay?’

‘Yes, my lady.’

‘Now dispose of that,’ she ordered, pointing to the table, as Emily went to retrieve the cloth.

‘Mum, can’t I keep that?’

Jessica snatched it out of her hands. ‘No, dear, it’s dirty. You never know where it’s been.’

She urged Jessica to leave while holding back Emily, who was becoming tearful once again, since pleading had no effect. ‘Now you run along. Dane has gone looking for your kitten. You know they want to get into everything. He’ll find it sooner or later.’ Emily dragged her feet as she left the kitchen. ‘And don’t go beyond the fence again, Emily! Don’t—whatever the reason. You’re precious to me.’ These words, which she should have said intimately, came echoing through the house, a proclamation for all to hear, especially Jessica.

Emily knew where the rubbish was kept before burning, in an old tub at the back of the house ready to be incinerated in the nearby garden. If Jessica had taken it already, there’s a chance to rescue the scarf before the household waste was placed on top. Emily sneaked round the side of the manor from the main entrance so as not to be seen from the servant’s quarters; as she approached the corner to the garden, she heard the thump of the wooden lid banging shut on the large barrel. Hearing the servant’s door shut, Emily peeked round the end of the building. Jessica had gone inside. She’d forgotten how high the bin was. Up to her chin, with a heavy wooden black lid, how was she going to lift the lid without making a noise, let alone reach inside? There was a pear tree pressing on the side of the house, some parts of which hung over the barrel. Dane had promised to cut it back but had not yet done so. Emily had an idea. Staring at the old neglected plant, there were two branches several feet above the barrel. ‘If, if I…’ She was fearful. Was it worth it? Was it really worth it? What was she doing this for