He dropped me at the inn near my house as always, but he gripped my hand as I was about to step down.
"Leave here," he whispered. "The house in Suffolk is still empty, you can move back in there for now. If what you say is true, it is no longer safe for you here."
I had not thought he had heard me, but obviously he was paying more attention than I thought. Perhaps he, too, had noticed a change in the Queen's affections.
So Louisa and I prepared to return to Suffolk, while Richard went home to his child and, I hoped, his wife.
I wondered how that lady had fared, tending to her own needs and hiding away all this time, but I thought it likely that someone who had the courage to do what she had done would soon manage to cope with anything. Unlike myself, who, when faced with the possibility of having nothing, had thought of no other way out except hateful marriage to hateful men. She certainly had more courage than I.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Anthony was the first to come and visit me at the old house. I could see from his expression that he was distressed and my heart sank. Despite the vicious disease from which the little girl suffered, I had hoped and prayed she might recover.
"Alicia?" I asked at once.
He nodded.
"She died this afternoon. Richard is devastated."
"Of course he is," I replied. "And Bethany?"
He scowled at me as though I had used a dirty word.
"He has allowed her back in the house, despite her betrayal. He has sent my sister back to France so that she will not suspect that Lady Summerville is a heretic."
"I meant how is she coping with the loss of her child?"
He shrugged, as though it were of no importance, and I was shocked.
"You have changed, Anthony," I told him. "You were always fond of her."
"That was before. I have no idea why he has forgiven her, after the way she behaved he should have put her away for good."
"I am sure she had her reasons," I said quietly, a little uncomfortable about the turn this conversation was taking. "And I am sure he had his." I found myself wanting him to leave.
"The funeral will be in the morning," he was saying. "Then Richard's wife will return to live at the Hall as though nothing has happened. What do you think of that, My Lady?"
"I think that is how it should be," I told him firmly. "I am quite sure Richard knows what he is doing."
He sighed heavily.
"So now you are back will you be taking up your rightful position? I must say I am very pleased to see you."
I had never met the child that was lost, but I had wanted to grieve on her parents' behalf. Anthony was making me angry and I could scarcely believe what he was saying. He had always been fond of Bethany and now he thought his cousin was going to take up with his mistress where he supposed he left off, while his wife mourned her loss alone. I could not bear it.
"Richard loves his wife, Anthony," I said, "and if you love him, you will support whatever decision he makes with regard to her. And those decisions will not include me."
"What are you saying?" He demanded angrily. "That now she is back he will just abandon you, after everything you have done for him and for her? I do not believe he would do that."
"Of course not. But the decision is mine. He does not want Bethany to find out about me, to find out that I am living so close. You must honour that, Anthony, or he will be furious."
"I will honour it, but I think it would do her good to know."
"It is not your decision to make. You must go now. Richard needs you at the funeral, and if he wants you to look after his wife while he is at court, then that is what you must do."
He got to his feet and took my hands in his in a comforting gesture.
"If only you could have given him a child, he would surely have married you."
That made me even angrier, that he assumed I was just heartsick and wishing I was in Bethany's place. How dare he?
"What makes you so sure I would want to marry him?" I replied harshly. "You do not know everything, Anthony, so please do not presume to make wishes on my behalf."
When he had gone I sat before the fire and thought about the whole situation, all the misunderstandings and I worried about Richard. I knew that the Queen had suspicions now and I was terrified of what she would do. As always he had made sure that I was safe, back in Suffolk and with my real name, but what of him?
I was glad to be back though, to see Lucy and her children although I had learned that I did not really like children very much. Perhaps it was a barrier I had built around myself to assuage the disappointment of never being able to have any.
Louisa was still with me and still no sign of a man in her life.
"After what men have done to you, My Lady," she told me when I asked, "I do not think I would want to trust one of them."
"Louisa, I hope my own fears have not spoilt your life. Not all men are wicked; look at Lucy's husband. Look at Lord Summerville.
She gave me a sideways look as though she knew more than she was letting on.
"Even he is not perfect, My Lady," she said. "I think I will stay as I am, if that is satisfactory to you."
She could do that, could she not? If I were to die tomorrow, she could go and find work as a servant anywhere. She could do laundry, cooking, anything to earn her keep, while I ran into the arms of the next monster I could find. Were the horrors of my life something I could have avoided after all?
I kept away from the village. I recalled the gossip about me before, and I was quite sure that while they all welcomed Lady Summerville back amongst them, nobody welcomed her husband's mistress. I could not stay here for long, that was clear, but for now I needed the respite I attained by simply living quietly and riding out to watch what was going on.
Anthony visited, but not as often as before and for that I was thankful. He said that he was obliged to keep a close watch on his cousin's wife, for fear she would betray him again. He did not trust her and never would.
That saddened me, as I could see an even wider rift being built between Richard and Bethany if Anthony had anything to do with it.
***
The year was moving on and still no word from Richard. I had been worried enough when he went back to court; now with no word I was getting quite frantic and was on the point of sending a messenger to find out what was happening with him. I was quite sure that Mary had discovered our deception and I feared what that would mean for him.
It was late one November afternoon that Anthony strode into my sitting room with a look of sorrow on his face. I jumped to my feet.
"Anthony?" I asked, stepping toward him. "What is it? What has happened?"
He handed me a letter, still sealed with Richard's seal.
"He managed to sneak it past his wife," he said. "Actually gave it to her, rolled up in a letter to me." He stopped abruptly then sank down into a chair while I poured him wine. "He has been condemned for treason, Rachel. The Queen has discovered the deception."
I sank back down, my legs giving way beneath me, and I just stared at him. I felt paralysed, numb with shock and guilt. It was all my idea, was it not? I was to blame then. It would not have happened were it not for me. And he made quite sure that I escaped, even in the midst of the worst grief of his life he still made sure that I escaped.
"You had better read it," Anthony was saying, indicating the letter which was still sealed, in my hands. "I have no idea what it says, but it must be important or he would not have taken the risk."
I looked down at the parchment as though it were something strange and unfamiliar that I had never seen before. What I wanted to do was scream, but instead I started to shake.
I tore the seal open at last, trembling so much I could barely see the words.
"My dearest Rachel," it read, "I have always kept your secret as I know how much that means to you, but if you could find it in your heart to reveal it to my wife, I shall die happier. I tried to tell her that it was all done to keep
her safe, but I am not sure she believed me and even if she did, she still believes that you and I have been lovers. I will rest much easier in my grave if she knows that I have always been faithful to her. Consider it a dying man's last request and know how much your friendship has meant to me. Be safe, my dear, be happy. Goodbye, Richard."
Tears flooded down my cheeks and I tried hard to swallow the awful ache in my throat. What would I do without him?
"This is all her fault!" Anthony cried out suddenly. "If she had followed his wishes as a wife should, he would still be free and you would not have had to risk so much either. I shall never forgive her."
"No Anthony," I said, reaching out to touch him. "Bethany will suffer enough because of this; she needs you on her side."
"Why do you defend her?"
"Because I admire her courage and I know how much Richard loves her." I looked down once more at the familiar handwriting on the parchment. "How did you get this?"
"I told you. He slipped it inside a letter to me with his will, then he asked Bethany to bring it to me."
"So she has seen him?" I asked, my admiration growing. "She has been to that awful place?"
"She insisted on going, despite him sending word that she was not to attempt it."
"Because he did not want her to risk her own safety, but she went anyway. Despite believing that he loved me, not her, she still made the journey just to see him one last time. Can you not see why I admire her?"
He still looked unconvinced and I was in no mood to argue further with him.
"We will lose Summerville," he was saying. "We will lose everything."
"Where will you go?"
"I have a house my father left me."
"And Bethany? Where will she go?"
It would be the greatest irony if after everything Lord Summerville had given me, the only place left for his wife was with me, in a house that he paid for. If that was to be the case then I would have to convince her of the truth.
I had an awful vision of her being in my own position, having to marry someone she despised to keep from starving. But then I recalled that she had lived as a peasant for almost a year, she had lit fires and cooked food and kept warm, all alone. She would survive; she was not weak like me.
"I will invite her to live with me," Anthony was saying, "but only for the sake of Richard's memory. Hopefully she will find another husband before long and leave."
I shook my head, wondering how one man can be so perceptive, yet his cousin had no idea.
"If you are inviting her to your house," I said, "you had best be prepared to make it permanent. She will never marry another man."
He made no reply, only looked at me as though he was not sure whether to believe me or not.
"I shall go and see her tomorrow," I said, though it was not a task I relished. "I shall wait till after the...............till after. Richard wants me to tell her something, something important and dear to his heart."
"She will recognise you, so if you are planning to pretend there was never anything between you, it will not work."
"Recognise me? She has never seen me."
He was nodding.
"She has. She went to London, despite my pleas. She waited and followed you both to the park. That is how she came to be there when her sister died."
I caught my breath at that. I had no idea that she had witnessed the horrific death of her own sister; no wonder she felt compelled to help the cause. Surely even Richard must see that.
"Would you leave now, please," I asked him. "I wish to mourn alone."
He nodded then stood and squeezed my hand before he made his way toward the door.
"You know where I am if you need me," he said reassuringly.
It should be Bethany he was telling that to, not me, but it was pointless trying to convince him of that. He was going to blame someone, and she seemed the proper person to him. Perhaps as time went on he would realise how wrong he was.
I cried myself to sleep that night, and I was sure that Bethany would be doing the same. In the morning I staggered down the stairs at dawn to watch Louisa lighting the fire. I had never really noticed before how that was done and I doubted that Bethany had either when her husband imprisoned her in a peasant's cottage. I wondered if she had ever taken the trouble to watch it done, as I was doing now.
Richard had assured me that this house and the Finsbury one were both in my own name, that no one could take them away from me, but still I worried.
I had to tell Louisa and Lucy what had happened. They both thought highly of Richard; they would both be devastated. But I waited until the afternoon, thinking that I would give Bethany time to grieve a little before I appeared and rocked her world even more. I would lose the element of surprise if she knew who I was, if she recognised me as soon as I arrived at the house. It may even mean she would not listen to what I had to say, but it was Richard's last request; it was of vital importance that I made her believe me.
I had my horse saddled and rode toward the village. I had avoided the place since I had been back, but I wanted to go there today to visit the church and the priest within it. I did not willingly attend mass, but I felt it would please Richard if I at least lit a candle of him.
I drew rein when I saw Bethany enter the porch. I had not expected to see her there as I knew perfectly well she paid only lip service to the Catholic faith. Perhaps she, too, wanted to light a candle and say a prayer and had nowhere else to go.
I turned back and waited at a safe distance till I saw her ride back toward Summerville Hall. I went into the inn then, half expecting to be refused service, but I was given some ale and left in peace for a little while. I could see that everyone knew what had happened and I could see that they were all grieving. Even though no one spoke to me, I felt that I was one of them in my grief.
"It is all right, My Lady," the innkeeper remarked. "We all loved him, and I think you did too. You are as entitled to your grief as any of us, if not more so."
I thanked him and drained the tankard, then I summoned enough courage to ride to see Lady Summerville.
I rode slowly, not only because it was damp and misty, but because I had no real desire to get there at all. I hated confrontation and I was going to meet a woman who believed I had been giving to her husband that which only a wife should give.
How would I ever convince her that was not the case, that never could be the case? Especially if she saw in my eyes how much I loved him, how much I grieved for him.
But as I approached the house the sight that met my eyes first made me believe I was still in bed and dreaming, but then when I realised I was awake, made my heart dance with joy. Through the windows at the front of the house, I saw Richard, holding his wife in his arms once more. He looked up and saw me and smiled then he mouthed a 'thank you'.
He was not a ghost, he was real flesh and blood and I wanted to jump off my horse and run inside to fling myself at him.
But that privilege was hers, not mine. I turned my horse around and rode back to my own house.
It was later that day that Louisa came running in with the news she had just heard in the village.
"The Queen is dead, My Lady," she said excitedly. "That is why His Lordship escaped. We have a new Queen now, Elizabeth, and she has spared all her sister's enemies."
"Elizabeth," I sighed. "Another protestant on the throne."
"Yes, My Lady," Louisa said with a smile.
I had never really wondered about the religious leanings of Lucy or her. I did not care either way so I assumed they felt the same. But I knew what Mary's death meant to me. It meant no more burnings, it meant I was no longer in danger of being found and charged with treason, it meant Lord Summerville once again where he belonged, with his wife, making more babies.
It meant that I would have to leave. I could perhaps return to the Finsbury house now that I was not in any danger, but I would try to talk to Richard about it when I got the chance.
I had the chance soo
ner than I thought I would, for he arrived at my door that evening, with his wife at his side.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Bethany's Journal
I have never felt so ecstatically happy in my entire life than I was that day. I woke up thinking that I had nothing, believing myself a widowed pauper, only to have Richard back in my arms, and telling me he loved me, yes me, not the beautiful Rachel, but me. He said she meant nothing to him, but I did not really believe that and even if I had, that just made it worse somehow, that he had been bedding her all this time if she really meant nothing to him. But I had to put her out of my mind; I had to thank her for the risk she took and pray that she was able to move on with her life without Richard in it. I may learn later that I would have to share him with her, but even that did not seem to matter too much that day. If she loved him even half as much as I did, it would break her heart to give him up.
I did not want him to know how Anthony had spoken to me. It seemed petty somehow that I should spoil his homecoming with complaints. I knew why Anthony resented me so much and I could understand it a little now I knew why my husband had presented another woman to the Queen as his wife. Anthony was right - if I could have only followed his wishes and beliefs, as I promised to do, he would have stayed safe. He would never have been imprisoned in the Tower, never have faced the prospect of the executioner's axe.
"Richard," I heard Anthony's incredulous voice from the doorway and sat up from where I had been pressed against Richard's chest. "Richard!" He repeated, coming forward and shaking his hand. Then as Richard got to his feet to greet him, he took him in a hug of sheer joy.
"Mary is dead," I told him. "Richard is home with us."
I emphasised the us, by way of an olive branch, but he did not look grateful. In fact, he scowled at me as though I had no right to be there. Perhaps he would never forgive me, but I could do nothing about it and I was far more concerned that Richard should forgive me than him.
But as I suspected, Anthony's expression was not lost on Richard. He noticed at once the tension in the air.
The Flawed Mistress (The Summerville Journals) Page 12
