Doctor Who_ The Roundheads - Mark Gatiss [96]
She carried the paper lightly, unwillingly, secretly hoping that some strange breeze would blow it away and she would be free of her treachery. But she reached the door unscathed and knocked lightly upon its panels.
Sir John Copper opened the door himself and ushered her inside.
Without a word, he snatched the parchment from her and took it to the lamp on the table.
He angled it to the yellow glow and rapidly scanned its contents. Then, with a smile of triumph, he turned to Frances.
‘You’ve done well, my dear. Very well. The nation owes you a great debt.’
Frances looked him in the face. Her eyes were lifeless and rimmed with tears.
‘May I go now?’ she said, her voice broken with emotion.
Copper examined her amusedly. ‘So soon? Come. Sit with me a while.’
He kicked at a chair, sending it scraping across the floor.
Reluctantly, Frances sat down in it, her head sinking on to her chest.
Copper sat down next to her and, to Frances’s surprise, took her hand.
‘You must not take on so, Frances. What you have done is only right and proper. You owe your allegiance to His Majesty.’
Frances raised her other hand to her face and wiped a heavy, salty tear from her eye.
‘Even if it means betraying the one I love?’
Copper gave a good-humoured chuckle, like a kindly uncle dismissing a child’s bad dream.
‘Oh, lass. Y’are scarcely out of the cradle yourself. What you feel for this... Roundhead is no more than a schoolgirl’s fancy.’
Angered, Frances pulled her hand from Copper’s grip but he immediately took hold of it again, his strong fingers pressing hard against her knuckles.
‘You’re hurting me,’ she protested.
Copper suddenly pulled hard on her hand, swinging her off the chair and on to his knee.
Frances immediately tried to get off but his arm was snaking around her waist, hugging her closer.
‘Leave me be!’ she cried. ‘I shall... I shall...’
‘You’ll what, girl?’ snarled Copper. ‘Cry out? For whom?
That spineless father of yours? Why, he’d as soon see you burnt on a pyre than refuse me anything!’
He planted his other hand on to Frances’s pretty face and pulled her round to kiss him, his fingers pinching her soft cheeks.
Disgusted, Frances tried to drag her face away but Copper persisted, his aged, bristly face scraping over her lips.
Fighting back the only way she could, Frances found Copper’s lips and savagely bit into them. She felt the soft flesh yield beneath her incisors and Copper yelled in anguish.
He tried to push her off but she held on as long as she could. Finally, he smacked her on the side of the face and she fell to the floor, her head ringing.
Copper shot to his feet, blood streaming from his mouth.
His hand rose automatically to the wound and he examined his bloodied fingers.
‘Slut! Harlot!’ he raged. ‘I shall make you pay dearly for this!’
There were heavy steps on the stairs and the door was flung open to reveal William Kemp.
He looked down at Frances and then at Copper, taking in the scene in an instant.
‘What perfidy is this?’ he bellowed.
Copper looked round, holding a lacy handkerchief to his torn and bleeding lip.
‘This animal you call daughter tried to force herself upon me, Kemp. I’faith, she is even more the whore than we took her for.’
Frances groaned and shook her head violently. ‘It’s not true, Father. He... he tried to...’
She tailed off miserably. What was the point? Her father never took any notice of her.
Copper laughed through his handkerchief.
‘See? She cannot even gather her wits sufficient to lie! If I were you, Kemp, I should –’
Copper was suddenly silenced by Kemp’s fist, which lashed out and caught him directly on the point of his bearded chin.
He staggered backward and fell against the window casement, dragging the curtain down from its rail with a great rending tear.
There was a stunned silence and then Kemp advanced on him, his shoulders down like a fist-fighter’s and his face red with fury. ‘You scoundrel! Get out of my house! Out,