Splintered Heart (The Bentons and Northcutts 2) ✅

Chapter One

April 5th, 1667

"I received a letter from my cousin's wife yesterday."

Rafe's brow rose. When Francis called him in to his private office he had thought that his father was reporting to him of the existence of yet another bastard. But Francis's tone was grave and his expression grim. Rafe sat up a little in his chair, as he had been slouching before. "Which cousin, Father?" he asked. House Northcutt had many in their numbers, and had strongholds throughout England and even France.

"Bernard's wife, Siobhán," Francis responded. He held up the letter. "As you may be aware, Bernard has a castle near the border with Scotland, where he lives with his wife, son, and his spinster sister. He is also lord over a nearby township.

"Lady Siobhán has reported that Bernard has fallen gravely ill and does not appear to be getting better," Francis continued. "Her letter details that there is a...plague of sorts, that has afflicted not only their castle but also the township. Many people have tragically succumbed to this plague, and the outlook does not look good for Bernard."

"I am terribly sorry to hear that," Rafe said sincerely, his heart going out to his distant relatives.

"Lady Siobhán has requested aid from kinfolk," Francis said. "As it stands the lord is ill, and there is no adult male Northcutt of authority there, as August is still but a young lad at twelve years. Things appear to be falling into chaos in the north."

"...And you would like me to be the adult male Northcutt of authority there," Rafe surmised for his father.

"I would like you to go there, aye," Francis confirmed. "Just for reassurance to my cousin's family.  I have faith that Bernard will recover; he's as strong as an ox, after all. But your presence would make Lady Siobhán and August feel more at ease."

"What is the nature of the plague?" Rafe asked. "Is it the pox? Or rossalia?"

"Lady Siobhán did not specify in her letter, only that Cousin Bernard has been confined to his bed, is feverish, and vomits several times a day."

Rafe grimaced and stood up. "It is still morning, so I will leave as early as possible. It should take me a few days to arrive at Cousin Bernard's stronghold. God willing, he will be back on his feet by the time I arrive."

"Let's hope so," Francis said. "I'll have some men go with you as well."

"That's not necessary, Father," Rafe said, raising his hand. "If our cousin is still sick by the time I arrive, having more people with me will mean more people will get sick. And if there are more people, the plague could group within our group and come home with us. I will be careful around Cousin Bernard, and anyone else who is sick. I can manage this alone."

Francis looked like he wanted to protest, but the words audibly choked in his throat. After a few moments he nodded and stood up. "Thank you for this, Rafe. Please help our kin, but guard your life. We nearly lost Rebekah. I..." he shook his head. "I do not want to lose you either."

Rafe managed a smile for his father. "Rebekah is well, as is her daughter Marion. And I will be well too."

He took his leave and hurried towards his bedchamber. "I need a bag packed for a fortnight," he announced to a footman, who hurried ahead of him. He pushed down his unease and tried to feel optimistic. But despite his reassurances to Francis...he felt ill at ease.

Heavenly Father, please keep me safe in my travels. Please keep my family safe.

But as he entered his room, he took solace in a singular thought. At least Rebekah is safe...and it's because of Phoebe.