When Love grows doubt

by Barbara Eckhoff

  "Thanks."

  She then went back outside and waited impatiently for Samuel to drive up in the little buggy. What on earth had happened? Why was Robert suddenly feeling so bad? Could it have something to do with the sleeping powder she had given him? It was the only thing she could think of that only he had ingested. She hoped that she was not to blame for his condition, and she wanted to get some clarity. It was time to talk to Charles Dumfrey. When the carriage pulled up a little later, she did not waste another minute, but climbed aboard and trotted the horse. Her path led her directly to Dumfrey's estate. Even if he had not allowed her to visit him, she had to speak to him. His mansion was a good half-hour in the opposite direction from the village. The long driveway, lined with old trees, was deserted. Here no one was working outside in the garden. Nor did he have any animals that needed to be cared for. What Dumfrey did for a living was not widely known. It was generally assumed that he was born rich and managed his fortune well. As Moira approached the house, her trepidation grew. The dark walls with their pointed towers looked more like a castle than a manor house, and in the late afternoon hour casting wide shadows ahead. A dark raven flew close over her as she stopped in front of the house. That’s fitting, Moira thought to herself as she stepped down from the buggy. She looked around and then climbed the five steps to the front door. This place, like its owner, exuded something threatening.

  "What are you doing here? Didn't I tell you that I never want to see you here?"

  Dumfrey angrily pulled Moira into his writing room, pushed her rudely inside and closed the door behind them. Moira, who had lost her courage a little at first, now straightened her shoulders and turned around angrily.

  "I need to talk to you and I need to now."

  "Oho, are you giving the orders here now?"

  He looked at her with amusement, folded his arms in front of his belly and leaned back against the door. Moira clenched her fists inwardly. He was such a creep, but she had to have certainty.

  "Robert is in a very bad way and I want to know why."

  He appraised her with his eyes.

  "I suppose that's what happens, you don't feel well if you've ingested poison."

  He let the words pass his lips. Poison? What poison? Gradually Moira seemed to understand, because he could literally see how her thoughts began to circle and how the color slowly drained from her face. This sight alone had been worth the whole thing. She reproached herself. God, his plan had been ingenious. Self-satisfied, he looked at her. Now she was his and would be at his mercy forever and ever. What did it matter now that she knew what he was doing in the bay. She could do nothing with this knowledge without delivering herself to the knife.

  "What, what have you done?" came from Moira's mouth, who was beginning to understand what had happened.

  "I didn't do anything. YOU gave him the powder."

  "You made me believe that it was a sleeping powder and that nothing would happen to him."

  Moira's voice seemed to roll over as she half leaned on him in a hysterical voice.

  "What a monster you are."

  She slammed both her fists into his chest as hard as she could, but in her desperation and the tears that were now running down her cheeks, it was easy for him to grab her and hold her tight.

  "Stop it! You have nothing to fear yet. You just have to go on as before and no one will ever know

  anything. The dose was not very strong and he will survive. I just had to get your absolute cooperation, and I have it now."

  With a jerk, she pulled away from his grip and would almost have fallen over backwards if she had not found a foothold at the last moment.

  "What was it?"

  "Arsenic."

  Shaking her head and not knowing what happened to her, she heard herself ask.

  "You made me a poisoner, why? What have I done to you that you would do this to me?"

  "I needed your cooperation, and lately I've had the feeling that you didn't really want to hear me.

  So I resorted to a measure that would give me your full attention. I have learned that you were at the cove last night. Didn't I tell you to stay out of my affairs? And did you? No. But it will not do you any good.

  You are now a criminal and if anyone should ever find out that you tried to poison your fiancé, the rope is waiting for you. You can see for yourself that it is only to your advantage that no one finds out about it.

  So go ahead and marry him and wait for new instructions from me and until then, don't show your face here again."

  "I can't marry him. How can I ever look him in the eye again? I can’t be with him. I just can't, and what good will it do you by me marrying him?"

  "You can and you will marry him, or you will lose your head faster than you like. And I warn you, do not think that his love for you will be enough to forgive you for this deed. If he finds out, he will hand you over to the authorities. He is a proud and truthful man."

  "What kind of devil are you?"

  "I can live well with that appellation. Go now and leave me alone."

  Without another word and with a bowed head Moira left his estate. What had she done? She had almost become a murderer. Why hadn't she asked Robert for help from the beginning. Now it was too late. Now he could never know. How could she face him again? How was she ever going to love anyone again? What if Robert died because of what she had done? Dumfrey had said that he would not die, but he had lied about many other things as well. She looked up at the sky. Quietly she turned to God.

  "I am ready for my punishment, but please don't let

  Robert die."

  Chapter 15

  He didn't know if it was day or night. Rain pattered against the windows from outside, and the room was in darkness. No light penetrated through the closed curtains from the outside, only in the fireplace burned a small fire and threw a narrow light beam on the floor. It was the first time in a long time that he woke up and did not feel like throwing up. Slowly he realized that he was in his own room. The large mahogany bed with the four posts stood in the middle of his bedchamber, on a small pedestal. Opposite was the fireplace, whose fire slowly threatened to go out. He felt warm and slipped the white sheet off his legs. Dressed in his undergarment only, he lay in his bed. Someone must have undressed him, because he could not remember doing it himself. What had happened? Never in his life had he felt so ill. Even now he had no real impetus to get out of bed, but his mouth was dry and his lips were chapped. He was thirsty. Carefully he tried to get up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Immediately, a queasy feeling set in, admonishing him to slow down. With deliberation he pushed his upper body off the bed, but as he was about to take the first step off the pedestal, his eyes went black and his legs buckled.

  At the moment of the fall, he looked for support on his nightstand, but his weight knocked it over and he fell to the floor along with the oil lamp that had been standing on it. Quick steps hurried down the hall and his door was pulled open. With a horrified look Alfred looked at him, as he tried to get up again, which he could not do without help. Albert rushed toward him.

  "My lord. You must not get up yet."

  Albert grabbed Robert under the arms and lifted him up again so that he was standing on his feet. Slowly he sat him back on the edge of the bed. While he fluffed the pillows and placed them against the headboard, he watched Robert closely. His face was ashen. He looked like his death.

  "Come on, get back in bed. You are still too weak to get up. Are you feeling a little better?"

  He rested Roberts body in the pillows and covered him with the white sheet again.

  "I'm terribly thirsty."

  "That's good. I'll get you something in a minute. How's your stomach? Still feeling unwell?"

  "No. I feel weak and worn out, but I don't feel sick anymore. Only thirsty I am."

  "I'll go get you something. Please stay in bed."

  When Albert returned a little later with a large glass
of cool water, a little bit of color had returned to his face. With shaky hands, Robert held the glass of water in front of his mouth and before he could spill any of it, Albert supported him as he drank.

  "Just take small sips, Sir. Don't let your stomach rebel again."

  But Robert drank hastily like one dying of thirst. Then he leaned back into the cushions, exhausted.

  "What time is it?"

  The butler picked up the oil lamp from the floor and placed it back on the nightstand, where he had put the water glass so that Robert would have it handy next to him and said, "It's almost six o'clock in the evening, Mylord. You should try to go back to sleep. The rest will do you good."

  "How long have I been lying here?"

  "Almost three days. Gwyneth blamed herself in the worst way that something was wrong with the food. I'm about to give her the good news, that you’re a little better. Also Miss Fergusson has…"

  "Moira was here? Did she see me in this state?"

  "No, sir. I did not let her see you. We didn't know what was wrong with you. She just came by several times a day, and inquired about your condition. We were all greatly concerned for you. Would you like to have anything else? If not, I'll leave the bell here."

  Relieved that Moira had not seen him in his miserable condition, he realized again how weak he felt.

  "Are you hungry, Sir?"

  "No, right now I'm just thirsty."

  "Then finish the glass and after that you should continue to rest. Your body needs to regain its strength. I will check on you later. Shall I put on some more wood?"

  "It's warm enough. Thank you Albert. I have to talk to Samuel. Please send him to see me."

  "Shouldn't you wait until tomorrow? You'll feel a little better then."

  "No. I've been out of action long enough and I need to see him urgently. Send him up to me, please."

  "Very well."

  Later, when Samuel knocked at the door, Robert had already dozed off, but the sound of the door opening woke him up again.

  "Oh, did I wake you up? I can come back later."

  "No, that's all right. Come on in, I need to talk to you."

  Samuel came closer and stopped at the foot of the bed.

  "You look awful and should get some rest a while longer. Every walking corpse looks better. If Moira sees you like this, she'll run away from you. The poor thing is completely beside herself, since she found out about you. She seems to hold herself responsible for your condition. Every day she comes here several times to inquire about you."

  "Thank you for the pep talk. He who has the damage doesn't have to worry about the ridicule, does he?", returned Robert sardonically to Samuel.

  "You'd better tell me how, during the last two days, the work has been going on. How are the mares doing, and were the sales negotiations that should have taken place yesterday postponed?"

  "Everything is fine. The mares are ok. One of the workhorses got hurt on one of the fences. It's in the barn now, it's been patched up and the spot on the fence has been repaired. The negotiations took place yesterday. I think that I have concluded it in your interest. Lord Bratley's administrator bought the two breeding bulls and immediately looked at two more that he also wants. He will be in touch with you when you are back on your feet."

  Acknowledging, Robert nodded. He had known that he had a capable collaborator in Samuel and thus replied:

  "You've done well. It seems to me that I am completely superfluous."

  "Well, I can manage without you for a few more days, but then you should help out again."

  Samuel joked.

  "Seriously. You should take it easy now. That was not just a little indigestion, and it doesn't help anyone if you get up too early. You don't have to worry, I've got everything under control and now I can ask you, if any problems arise."

  "Thank you Samuel, I knew I could count on you. I'd like to give you a raise and give you a piece of land to build a house on. I've had it in mind for a while and wanted to tell you, but somehow it was never the right opportunity. Also, I have to tell you that the other day I involuntarily witnessed a conversation between you and Eileen. I know how much you would like to marry her and I hope that it is possible now. I am so happy and grateful that I found Moira and I would like to facilitate the happiness of others if it is in my power to do so."

  Samuel couldn't believe what he was hearing.

  "Are you serious?"

  "I don't joke about such things. The raise takes effect this month, and when I get back in the saddle, I'll show you that piece of land I have in mind for you.”

  “I don't even know what to say. No one has ever done anything like this for me before. Eileen's going to be in for a real treat when I finally get to ask her that long-awaited proposal of marriage. Thank you, Robert. Thank you so much. You should get some more rest now and above all, take good care of yourself."

  "What do you mean?"

  "It's just a feeling. The way you've drained the life out of your body in the last few days. It has nothing to do with an upset stomach or bad food, in my opinion. It reminded me much of your uncle's last days.

  The symptoms were the same. Maybe you just handled it better than he did. Think about it."

  Two days later, he was on his feet again for a few hours. Although he was still not fully recovered, with the diet that Gwyneth had cooked for him and the light exercise in the fresh air that he had been prescribed for himself, things were visibly better. His stomach, which was still rebelling a little after the first solid food intake, no longer caused any problems and day by day he would regain his old condition. Yesterday afternoon he had seen Moira again for the first time. He had received her in his small reading room and had been totally surprised when she had fallen sobbing into his arms.

  "It's all good again, Moira. You don't have to cry," he had wanted to reassure her.

  But it had taken quite a while and several kisses before she was actually reassured that everything would be all right again.

  "I almost couldn't stand it because of worry. All Albert kept telling me was that there was no improvement. I'm sorry, Robert, but I didn't mean for this to happen."

  "What are you talking about," he tried to calm her down.

  "You can't help it. Who knows what I caught. It's just good that you didn't get it, too.You know, weeds don't die."

  Grinning, he clasped her chin and gave her such a passionate kiss that her head buzzed.

  "Let's talk about something else now instead. The wedding is two weeks away and I'm counting the days."

  "Do you really think you'll be fully recovered by then? Or would you rather postpone it?"

  "Postpone? Under no circumstances am I going to wait any longer for you to finally become my wife, even if they have to drag me into the church on a stretcher. The date is fixed. You'll see, by then I'll be back to my old self."

  And he was. The day before his wedding the guests arrived and in the evening there was a reception, that was held in honor of the bride. Since it was already the end of May, spring flowers were blooming in the garden and the weather allowed them to set up tables and benches outside to welcome the party there. Small lanterns hung from the trees and flower garlands decorated the paths. A small band played soft music and everywhere there was laughter and joking. It was a relaxed atmosphere, but this mood could not hide the fact that each of them had been worried about the illness that Robert had overcome. He had to confirm, more than once that evening, that he had returned to his old strength.

  Moira had tried to push all this into the background in the last few days, but with the curious questions of the guests, everything came back to her. She had also been glad that Sir Dumfrey was not among the guests, and yet she could not shake the feeling that she was under observation. Someone in Robert's household had to be his informant, but who was it? She had been willing to confess to Robert the day she saw him in his reading room. If he had continued to ask her questions that day
about her remark, which she had made by mistake, then she would have told him the truth.

  But she had not mustered the courage to do so herself. Tomorrow she would become his wife and move into this house. How beautiful everything could be, if not for the lie between them. Maybe Dumfrey was right. As long as he didn't find out about it, everything would be wonderful. He was the most loving man she knew, and she would be happy with him.

  Chapter 16

  A storm, such as Scotland had not seen for a long time, swept over the country during the night and left a trail of devastation in its wake. The next morning, Moira cast a horrified look out into her front yard. Was this to be taken as a bad omen? It was supposed to be the most beautiful day for both of them and now it looked horrific outside. Everywhere were broken branches and twigs in the beds and on the lawn. Leaves had been torn from the trees and covered the paths. Yesterday evening they had celebrated in the garden of the castle in beautiful weather.

  What would the garden look like now. Although the wedding was to take place in the ballroom and they were therefore independent of the weather, still one wished for such a day with the brightest sunshine. She felt as if her wedding was not under a good star and that God had already sent his gloomy harbingers to earth. Eileen looked in at the door.

  "Moira, it's time to get ready. Robert's coachman will pick you up in two hours and we still have to do your hair."

  "Oh Eileen, look what the weather has done outside. Did it have to be such a storm last night of all nights? The paths are soaked and everything is wet. The guests can't use the garden. It is a disaster."

  "Yes, it's mean, but don't take it so hard.

  Everything went great last night and today everything is planned in the castle anyway. The priest is coming to the little chapel and and I think Robert will have taken care of it: you'll get from there to the castle. Everything else does not depend on the weather.