He was sitting beside the fire when she went in, just staring at the flames as though he could see something important within the dancing colours. There were tears in his eyes and she knew by the redness around them that he had hurriedly dried those tears when he heard her coming. He looked up at her with the same hatred she had felt earlier and she could tell he still believed her to be entirely to blame for Richard’s death. Perhaps he was right, but she did not want to accept it. She wondered how soon he would begin to call himself Earl of Summerville. Would he still be able to claim the title, or would that be confiscated as well as the estate? Not that it mattered; without Richard, nothing mattered.
“Do we have any money?” She asked abruptly. “When Summerville is gone, what will be left?” He only stared at her with a scowl. “That Will Richard was writing, did it include provision to say masses for his soul?”
“It did. Why do you ask?”
“I only want to be sure. I have been to the church in the village to ask for masses, but the priest there would not take my ring in payment. I wanted to be sure.”
“Why? You do not believe he needs them, do you?”
“No, but he did. It gives me some comfort to know he will have his masses, even though he has no need of them. It is all I can give him now.”
His expression softened a little, making her feel that at least she had done one thing right in his eyes.
“I have heard nothing about what will happen,” he said. “I think we need to gather our belongings together, so that we are ready when the time comes.”
He got to his feet then and left the room, went upstairs to begin supervising the packing of his things, while she sat and stared at those flames, looking for some answer to her question. What did the future hold now?
***
She took the little leather pouch from her waist and tipped the battered berries into her hand. They left a stain on her skin that might give her away but she cared nothing for that. So what if they buried her at the crossroads, or outside the churchyard? It meant nothing to her, it never had.
It was beginning to be very tempting, despite what Richard believed. She was unsure about the Protestant church’s beliefs on suicide, but she thought they were similar. There was no paradise for someone who recklessly threw away the precious gift of life God gave them.
Was there anything left to do, anything Richard would want from her? She had said her piece to the tenants, for all the good it did. She had arranged for her husband’s soul to be looked after in accordance with his own beliefs. What about her soul? Should she be arranging her own funeral, or would she be denied such a thing should she take the course she was considering?
Was there anything left for which to stay? She contemplated her future, bereft of all she held dear and living under the protection of a man who despised her, who would happily see her dead were it not for his love and respect for her late husband.
She thought about the girl she once was, that Christmas of 1552 when the world was a safe and steady place, when she felt secure in the knowledge that England had a Protestant king and a Protestant heir to follow him, when there were no Catholics left free in England and when her only concern was how to escape a marriage to a poverty stricken minor baron. When an offer to trade her beliefs for wealth and power had meant nothing more than words.
She had read Belladonna to be a poison which caused no pain, but it did cause delusions and she wondered what delusions she would have, whether they would be good delusions. Perhaps she would believe Richard was there, come to take her soul to paradise. She might even hold her little Alicia in her arms once more; that idea was tempting in itself, even if it were only a delusion.
She made up her mind at last, although she was very frightened. She tilted her hand and held it up to her face, sniffed the berries, just to get an idea of how they might taste, when she felt a strong grip on her wrist and another hand came around behind her and forced her to tip the berries out on to the floor.
“Do not try to stop me, Anthony, please,” she pleaded. “There is nothing left for me now.”
The voice which replied was one she never thought to hear again.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Not even the chance to see your husband again?”
She spun around, her heart leaping. Had she taken some of the berries after all, without realising? There could be no other explanation for the hallucination which stood before her now, or perhaps she had indeed lost her mind.
“Richard?” She took his face between her hands, just to be sure he did not disappear, that he was not part of her night’s dreams. “What are you doing here? Did the Queen change her mind?”
“The Queen is dead,” he said shaking his head. “Elizabeth has pardoned all her sister’s enemies.”
She held him tightly against her, so afraid he was indeed an hallucination which would vanish if she did not hold on tight.
“It seems I got here just in time,” he said. “What were you thinking? Suicide? Do you realise what that means?”
“It means I would not be buried in consecrated ground, nothing more. Would you have me believe that heaven lies beneath the ground within the churchyard walls, while hell yawns beneath the ground outside them?”
He kissed her then, his lips warm and hungry on hers. God! She had missed that!
“Had I got here and found you dead," he said, "I might have been tempted to take the rest myself.” He pulled her into his arms and she felt his heart hammering loudly against her face as he held her tightly.
At last they sat down and he put his arm around her while she rested her head on his chest. His warmth ran through her, wiping out all the bad memories of the past few years. She still did not understand how he had allowed himself to almost end his life on the block, this man who was always in control, always knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it. None of it mattered now; all that mattered was that she was in his arms, where she never expected to be again, and she held on tight lest he slip away.
But had he only come to tell her he was free? She had not forgotten what she had done to him, she had not forgotten that she had not yet asked forgiveness. She did not want to ask the question, but she had to know if she was building false hopes.
“Will you be staying, My Lord?” She asked at last.
“If you will have me,” he replied.
She could think of nothing she wanted more in this whole world, but what of her? Would she still be hovering around, would she have to take turns and share him with her?
“Can you doubt it?” She replied. “I love you, Richard. You must know that, even if you did risk everything for someone else.”
“Never for someone else, my love. It was all for you.” He paused long enough to kiss her, then went on. “As well as deceiving the Queen into taking my mistress into her presence as lady in waiting, I was convicted of aiding Protestants to escape to France. I am not at all sure which of the two crimes Mary resented the most.”
She could almost find the irony in that. The arch papist is what Charles’ followers called him, hardly someone likely to be guilty of that. It was that other charge which concerned Bethany.
“If you did not love Rachel, why did you present her at court as your wife? Why risk so much for a woman you say meant nothing to you?”
“It was never for her. I told you, it was for you.”
“How? How could all this heartache possibly have been for me?”
“After that first time in the Queen’s presence, I knew you would not be safe at court. Yet Mary wanted you for a lady in waiting. I could not refuse her, could I? I had to give her someone.” She felt his gaze on her, as though he was thinking about the best way to tell her more. “The first time I took Rachel to court, I was sure someone would know, if not the Queen herself then someone. It only needed for one of my enemies to have taken more notice of my wife the first time she was there, but it seems you did not make much of an impression. Thank God.”
“Did sh
e know how dangerous it was? Why would she risk so much?”
“Do not imagine she was in love with me. I have known Rachel for many years; she loves me, yes, but she was never in love with me."
Bethany did not want to argue, to spoil this moment, but it hurt for him to confirm that this woman loved him. Did he also love her in return?
“So you did it to keep me safe, to keep attention away from me?” It was all she could do to keep from bursting into tears, she felt so ashamed. “And I used the privilege to betray you. Can you ever forgive me?”
“There is nothing to forgive. I realised that a long time ago.”
“You hated me; I know it. When did you stop hating me, when did you start wearing my image next to your heart?”
“I did hate you, yes. When I came to fetch you, so you could say goodbye to our daughter, I had no intention of releasing you. I intended to take you back to the priest’s cottage when it was over. I might have found you somewhere more comfortable to live once the Queen died, but that day I had no wish to face you. Yet you had a right to be with your child in her last moments and I would never have lived with my conscience if I denied you that right. I expected a meeting of two people who despised each other.”
She caught back a sob.
“So you despised me?”
“Yes, until I saw you. You looked awful, so thin and pale, I just wanted to fold you up in my arms and make you better. I realised what I had done, how I had thrown everything away. When I left here after we buried our little girl, I no longer hated you; I realised how much I still loved you.”
She kissed his lips, then wrapped her arms tighter around him. She was silent for a few moments as she tried to collect her scattered thoughts. So what was Rachel to him? And did it matter? She thought of the other charge of which he said he was convicted but it made no sense. Could it be the Queen had found out about her own betrayal and he had taken the blame upon himself? She would never live with that.
“Why should the Queen believe you had been helping Protestants to escape? I can imagine no one less likely to be guilty of that.”
“Who do you imagine has been sending warnings to Charles Carlisle?”
“You?” She sat up, astonished. “Why would you do that? He hates you, more than anyone on earth.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
He took a deep breath and drew her closer to him; it was a few minutes before he replied.
“If Carlisle were arrested, who would care for my son?” He replied.
She pulled away to look into his eyes.
“You knew about the boy? Julia was so careful to keep it from you. How did you find out?”
“I was watching Carlisle and his followers, waiting for an opportunity to arrest the lot of them, and I saw the child. I suspected straight away, but then your sister emerged from the house. I did try to save her, Bethany, I promise you that.”
She believed him. He had no reason to lie.
“The child?” She prompted him. “Simon.”
“Is that his name? Well I knew at once he was mine. So there I was, supposed to be hunting down the most wanted of all the heretics, and instead I found myself having to protect him. How ironic was that?” He paused and looked up at the ceiling reflectively. “How would he feel when he grows up, I thought, knowing his father had been the destruction of the only man he knew as a father? I could not do it, Bethany, I simply could not do it. And I had come to disagree with the Queen’s policies by then anyway. It was no real hardship to betray her.”
“But Charles has to be told,” I said. “He thinks...”
“I don’t care what he thinks. It is over now and I do not want to talk about him any more.”
She had no wish to spoil this moment, but there was more to say, whether he liked it or not.
“So you condemned me to that freezing hovel for helping the Protestants, while you were risking everything to do the same? I had no idea you were a hypocrite.”
He stiffened and she wondered if she should have kept quiet.
“It is true. I was only sending warnings with little danger to myself, but you were not privy to that. As far as you knew I was firmly on the side of the Queen and her campaign. I was angry because you were using everything I held dear to betray me. Whether I was justified or not, I do not know. I only know I was too enraged to think logically or fairly. I wanted to punish you; I almost killed you.”
“And my parents? My brother?”
“I know nothing about their fate. I swear it.” He kissed her then, just as he used to, kissed her till she longed for more and she felt the familiar throbbing deep down inside. “I meant what I said last time we met. I do love you so, more than I ever thought possible.”
She snuggled against him, relieved. She had so many questions, but they could wait. For now she just wanted to hold him, she could not believe he was here, his arms around her, telling her he loved her. She had longed for those words for years and she had not believed them when she heard them in that filthy cell. She thought he was just trying to make her feel better, perhaps to appease his conscience.
But there was one more thing she needed to know.
“Rosemary,” she said.
“What about her?”
“Did you kill her?”
“Have you been wondering about her all this time? What do you think? Do you think I am capable of such a thing?”
“Yes,” she replied. “I know you are quite capable of murder if it suits your purpose. And Anthony believes you killed her.”
He drew a quick breath at that.
“Does he? Really? I did not realise he even noticed she was gone.”
“But you are capable of murder?”
“You know I am,” he answered gravely. “But only people who need killing and I suppose I did kill her in a way. It was my fault she killed herself,” he replied at last. She frowned at him. “Rosemary committed suicide.”
“But she is in your family crypt beneath the church.”
“Yes she is. I did little enough for her while she lived, the least I could do was be sure she was not cast out by the church she loved so much. She should have been a nun; she would have been happy with that, a bride of Christ. She should never have been forced into marriage.” He paused and sighed despondently. “I found her body hanging over the bed in the east wing. That is why it was closed up. I took her to London, where I knew there was an outbreak of plague, where Anthony’s parents had recently died of it. Nobody knew, nobody questioned and she could have her place in the family crypt.”
“That was a nice thing to do,” she said.
“It was the only good thing I ever did for her.” His eyes met Bethany’s. “I wish I could have done more for Rosemary, but I was young and arrogant and impatient. I will not make that mistake again. You and I, we must share our deepest thoughts, there must be no more misunderstandings.” He paused, as though trying to find the courage to go on. “That night in the cottage,” he began, but she put her fingers up to his lips to halt his words.
“None of that matters,” she said. “It is over now.”
“No. You must let me tell you or I will never be able to live with myself.” He took a deep breath and carried on. “That night I came home to see you. You thought someone had found you out, but you were wrong. I had felt bad since Anthony sent word that you knew about Rachel. I guessed what you must have been thinking and I thought at first it would be a good thing, it would make you think less of me. But I began to miss you too much. I wanted to try to explain, wanted you to know the truth. And I really wanted to see you, wanted to hold you in my arms, to feel that love that only you could give me. I had missed you so much and I gave in to my own weakness. You taught me that lust is not love; lust I could have any time.”
She felt herself flinch. Did she want to know how far Lady Rachel’s services had gone?
“Imagine my surprise to find your bed empty and no sign of you in the house. But while I search
ed I saw a light among the trees, so I went through the underground passage to the church. While you were arranging the departure of all those people, I was in the crypt, listening to every word.”
She gasped, startled.
“No wonder you were so angry.”
“I was angry, and disappointed. I had ridden all this way to feel you in my arms, and I was angry with you and with myself. I believed I must have destroyed that love for you to betray me like that and that it was too late to explain about Rachel. While I listened in the crypt, it gradually became clear that you were using my Summerville to help my enemies. God in Heaven! But I wanted to kill you then. I don’t know how I kept myself under control.” He paused and swallowed hard before he carried on. “I made my plan on the spur of the moment, but when I brought the carriage and took you back to the cottage, I had spent those hours letting it fester in my mind, wanting revenge for your betrayal. And when you struck me, I could barely contain my temper. That is why I raped you; I wanted to punish you.”
“Do not speak of it. There is no rape within marriage. You did nothing you were not entitled to do.”
“I think you know I do not believe that. Physical love between a man and a woman is something precious and beautiful; it should not be used as a weapon, it should never be used to hurt. I am very ashamed of my actions that night. I only want to know you forgive me, that it will not ruin our future.”
Future, he had said. Did that mean they had a future, a future together?
“When I volunteered to help Charles Carlisle, it never occurred to me that I would be betraying you and your beliefs. I did it for Julia, and because I knew I had already lost you.” She captured an escaping sob. “You told me you would kill me. I was terrified you would carry out your threat, I was afraid of every strange noise.”
He pulled her close to him again and there were tears in his eyes.
HOLY POISON: Boxed Set: The Complete Series 1-6 Page 21
