Later that day she got out of bed with great difficulty. She put her bare feet on the cold floor, clutched desperately at the bedpost for support and stood. The good food, both at breakfast and midday had made her a little stronger and Frederick would bring her supper soon. She timed her attempt at standing deliberately so that he would be there to help should she fail. Robert was away somewhere so she felt confident about eating all the meals.
As the manservant entered her room she turned to glance at him.
"My Lady!" He cried with a huge smile. "You are feeling better?"
"A little," she answered.
He put the tray down on the table beside the bed and as he did so she glanced out of the window and saw the torches that glowed in the twilight as they travelled away into the distance towards London.
"What are the torches for, Frederick?"
"They are proclaiming the victory of Mary Tudor."
Antonia frowned.
"Mary Tudor? As what?"
"Why as Queen, My Lady. I thought you knew. King Edward passed away over a week ago and his cousin, Jane Grey was proclaimed Queen. But his sister, Mary, gathered an army and rode to London to claim her rightful place."
"Mary is Queen?"
"Yes, My Lady. I fear we must expect a time of turmoil. There will be a return to the Church of Rome, that is certain, and I do not know what else."
Antonia took a deep breath to calm herself. This news was devastating to all Protestants, to all followers of Luther and others like him. The old Earl had been Catholic, but had practiced in secret because of the law, yet now it seemed they were all to be forced into worshipping an old man in Rome once more.
"Will His Lordship be back tonight?" She asked him.
"I do not think so, My Lady. He told me I was to tell you he was spending the night in London, possibly longer, but he did not give me leave to say why. He had no idea that you would feel stronger and he likely did not want to worry you with it, but I think it has something to do with the new Queen."
“Yes,” she remarked, “His Lordship will have hurried to court to give his support lest the Queen saw his absence as an omission. He was always very close to her brother. It was the expedient thing to do.” She turned to the servant once more, not even sure if she had said the words or merely thought them. "Very well, Frederick," she said. "I shall eat now. What is this? Stew?"
He nodded then left her alone. She still felt a little nauseous, but she forced the food down. She needed it, needed her strength. She did not really believe Robert was in London; more likely he was with Camilla, planning how they would dispose of his countess now Maisie had been discovered.
CHAPTER SIX
Antonia rose early, as soon as she heard the birds singing, and slipped carefully out of bed. The good food of yesterday together with a good night's sleep, knowing Robert was away and unlikely to put a pillow over her face in the night, had made her stronger.
She was desperate to get away now, afraid this might be her only chance, but damn it! She was so weak, still she clutched the bedpost. The muscles in her legs were weak and shaky from nearly three months of disuse and it would be a long time before she could walk unaided, but she remembered the old Earl used a walking stick which was kept in his chamber. Robert had ordered that chamber sealed, but she knew where a spare key was kept.
She should wait until tomorrow, she knew that, but she was too afraid. What if she missed her opportunity? What if Robert came back before she had a chance to flee and was still too weak to fight him?
First she made her way to her own cabinet in the corner of the room, clutching on to the furniture and leaning against the wall to steady herself, to keep herself upright. She dared not crouch down to open it, lest she found herself unable to get up again, so she held on tight to the top of the cabinet and bent down. She opened the door and dragged the small, leather chest out with difficulty, dropping it to the floor, as she could not hold it with only one hand and she was afraid to use both. One hand had to stay hanging on to the top of the cabinet to keep her from falling.
She bent right over to open the chest, thankful it was not locked, and her head swam. She clung to the cabinet, convinced she would collapse into unconsciousness. She waited a few moments before she pushed back the lid of the chest. It was full of coins, a great deal of money. She was surprised to find it all still here, but then Robert had not expected her to be able to get up and go looking, had he? He expected her to lie in bed and drink the poison, too weak to argue, too weak to move.
There was a drawstring bag inside the cabinet and now she pulled it out and took the chance of going down on her knees, filling the leather bag with the coins and pulling the drawstring tight. It was heavy, but she had to at least get it downstairs and onto her horse's saddle.
Next she clung to the cabinet's top to pull herself up, then stood for a moment, trying to steady herself. She felt dizzy, her head was spinning, and to her dismay she found she had to stand for a few moments more to clear her head and gather a little strength. She wanted to get on, get away, not stand here wasting precious time.
She pulled some of her clothes from the chest beside the bed, another gown and a heavy cloak for the winter. She gathered as much of her clothing as she thought she might manage to carry downstairs. She pushed the garments into a leather bag she had found, one Robert had brought when he first came home, and tested its weight. She could just about manage it, she thought, even though she might have to stop and rest two or three times, and now she stuffed the purse of coins inside as well. She needed a spare hand to aid her down the narrow staircase at the back of the house, the one the servants used.
The sky outside was dim, the daylight only now beginning to break through. she needed to get away before the household stirred. She could not even trust Frederick to know that she was gone, lest he tell Robert in all innocence. She was not sure if Robert was home. He was supposed to be in London, paying homage to the new Queen for all their sakes but Antonia had her doubts.
She focused her mind on her determination to get away. She would deal with her broken dreams once that was done.
She had gone over it in her mind during the night, her dismal thoughts keeping her awake, and she was more convinced than ever that her husband and Lady Camilla together, planned to do away with her so they could marry. She should have seen it before, but she had let her guard down and fallen in love with the man. She never had much of a guard in the first place. She was as open and honest as the day and she was always surprised to find that others were not the same.
His attitude had changed too suddenly. He was angry at first, tried to force her into the marriage, even threatened to rape her so she would feel obliged to marry him, then suddenly he had been considerate, affectionate. He must think she was such a fool! And he would be right; she was a fool. She had trusted his word when she knew all along he did not want her, he wanted Camilla. But he wanted Camilla and the title and inheritance and to achieve that, Antonia had to die.
She tried to feel angry with him, but all she felt was hurt and betrayed. She understood why, if they loved each other, he and Camilla did not want to part, but it was hardly her fault was it? He had thought it was, he believed she had talked his father into the scheme, but she thought she had made him realise she did no such thing. She would have gone then, would have left and found work somewhere or other, but then he would have lost the title and estate to his cousin and Camilla would not marry him without them. So she did not have the excuse of loving him, did she?
At last she pulled herself up from the bed where she had sat to calm herself, and lifted the heavy bag with difficulty. Next she made her way to the old Earl's bedchamber, leaning against the wall for support. There was a portrait of him halfway along the gallery, behind which was a key to the chamber. She had seen him put it there once when he did not know she was looking.
She put the bag down while she opened the door and stepped inside, closed it behind her lest anyone pass by. Th
e walking stick was leaning against the wall beside the bed, its shaft of bamboo, its handle of ivory. She found it much easier to walk leaning on the stick and she took a last look around before she left the chamber, locking the door behind her. She did not bother to replace the key, just put it into the bag with her clothing. Nobody had known it was even there so it would hardly be missed and she did not want to waste precious time.
Three times she stumbled and almost fell down the stairs, clutching the bag in one hand and pushing her hand against the stone wall on the other. She had no free hand to lift her skirts and she was afraid to slide the leather bag down before her, lest it made a loud noise and woke the servants. She intended to disappear from this house without witnesses.
She used two hands to carry the bag across the yard to the stable. A stable boy still slept in one of the stalls and she left the bag at the stable door, went inside and led her pony out to tie her up against the rail. She went back for the rest of the tack, creeping quietly so as not to wake the sleeping boy.
Her fingers moved efficiently as she tacked up the mare, giving her a treat as she went to keep her quiet, then she took the purse of coins from the bag and tied it to the front of the saddle. That made the bag light enough for her to lift and she fastened it to the mare’s back. She went back inside the stable block and collected a mounting block, her glance moving to the corner to confirm the boy still snored. She smiled; he must have had a late night.
She left the pony and made her way inside the house, leaning on the stick for support, and went to pour some milk from the pantry, drank hurriedly then went back outside to climb onto the mounting block and astride the mare. She felt stronger every minute, but she needed to get as far away from Roxham Hall as possible before someone noticed she was gone.
She would keep riding as far as she could manage, then stop for breakfast at an inn somewhere. More good food inside her would make her even stronger.
She tried not to think about her husband and his lady love. She knew he was keeping his promise to be faithful, but only because the likes of Lady Camilla would countenance nothing else. She would demand marriage before she let him into her bed and if Antonia had her way, she would have to wait many years for his countess to be declared dead before that was going to happen.
She wondered fleetingly if Camilla was prepared to wait that long. Probably not, since her options would be limited by then and she would have very few suitors from which to choose; most of them would be ancient. She would not want to wait for him. She did not love him or she would have taken him without the title and lands, so she was hardly likely to wait all that time. Good, Antonia thought. At least that plan was thwarted or would be, providing she could get away, providing he did not find her.
Robert rode into the courtyard at midday, perspiration gathering in his collar from the fast ride in the heat. He had ridden from London as fast as he dared, anxious to be with his wife. He grew more concerned about her all the time and he really had not wanted to make this trip at all, but it was essential for him to show loyalty to the new Queen. He had failed to follow her from Suffolk to London to fight for her, and he was well known to have given his support to her brother and his Protestant regime. If she once suspected him of being against her, life could get very difficult.
He got down quickly and led his horse into the stable block. He always liked to make sure his horse was untacked and given water and hay as soon as he returned; he did not trust the stable boys not to leave the animal hanging about, thirsty and tired and foaming at the mouth. Robert cared about his animals, all of them, and he had only to catch one of the stable boys neglecting his horse and he would be out on his ear, with a good whipping to see him on his way. But after a journey such as this one, he liked to make sure.
The first thing he noticed was the absence of Antonia's little palomino mare. Having made his own horse comfortable he went outside to the paddocks, thinking someone had let her out to graze, although Antonia usually let her out in the afternoon. He shrugged. She was in no fit state to care for the animal and possibly someone was trying to help, to save her having to think about it. If that were the case, he would find out who it was and thank them.
He walked over to the paddocks, shielded his eyes from the sunlight and spotted a little black native pony belonging to one of the neighbours. Robert allowed it to graze here as it had no company in its own home and it shared the paddock with an old bay mare which had been retired a couple of years ago. He smiled, recalling that it had been Antonia’s doing to bring the black pony here.
“They are herd animals, Robert,” she had said firmly. “He will be miserable alone.”
She was right of course; the animal was very content here with his companion. Still there was no sign of Antonia's pony.
He went inside the house to find Frederick waiting for him inside the door, his face drawn and his brow furrowed. Something was very wrong.
"How is Her Ladyship today, Frederick?" He asked at once. "Is she any better?"
Frederick glanced quickly up the stairs then turned back to Robert.
"She is gone, My Lord," he murmured, his demeanour flustered.
Robert felt his knees begin to lose cohesion beneath him. He wanted to sink down somewhere, but instead he clutched hold of Frederick for support. He knew he should not have left her, knew she was not well enough to leave and it was all for that little fanatic who now sat her papist arse on the English throne.
Antonia had slipped quietly away while he was bowing to the damned woman, slipped away with the angels and he would never see her again. He had not even told her how he felt about her, thought he had time. He swallowed and caught back an escaping sob.
"Gone?" He repeated dismally.
"Yes, My Lord."
Robert fought against the ache in his throat, then gathered himself to his full height. He would mourn her later, when he was alone; he would save his tears until then.
"Where is she?" He asked in a shaky voice, glancing up the stairs himself.
"I do not know, My Lord," Frederick answered. "That is what I am trying to tell you. She was gone when I went in with her breakfast."
Now Robert only stared at him, a puzzled frown on his forehead.
"I thought you meant she was..."
"Oh, no, My Lord, forgive me. She was a little better yesterday. She ate all her meals and was even standing at the window last night, watching the torches."
Robert pushed past him and took the stairs three at a time. He burst into his wife's bedchamber, went to the chest which held her clothes and found it half empty. Then he turned to the cabinet where he had left her money; the chest was empty. He searched in the cupboard and noticed at once the absence of his leather travelling bag. On the high shelf was the jewellery casket which held his mother's jewels; he opened it reluctantly, afraid of what he might find, then breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the jewels all still there. He felt a little ashamed to have even suspected that she might have taken his mother's jewels. It was unlikely she would have even considered it.
He sank down on the bed, so shocked he could not think. Why had she done this? She was too ill to be riding around the countryside, or was that an act to get him to drop his guard? He shook his head to dispel the ridiculous thought; it could not be, not when she had been so sick, had grown so thin and weak. That was no act.
But why? They had been getting along so well together, damn it! He loved her. Why had he not told her that? She belonged to him and he would not simply accept that she had gone. He had to go after her, find out why she had done this.
Had she been unhappy he would have known. He cared too much about her not to have known, but something had made her pack up her things and leave him. Was it possible she was angry that he was paying homage to a Catholic monarch? He shook his head; that was way too far fetched. She would know why he had to do that and if she had any doubts she would have confronted him with them. The simple fact that she was being secretive was more worrying
than anything. What the hell could have happened to make her behave like this?
He felt bereft and he wanted to cry, not feelings he had ever had in his adult life before. He expected to feel bereft when he broke his relationship with Camilla, but he had felt only disappointed in her response. He had not felt like this, nothing like this. He felt he would not be able to go on without Antonia.
He opened the chest once more and found in the bottom the pale blue gown she wore for their wedding, the delicate cloth of silver that had sparked in the candlelight still there with it. He remembered her little pixie face, her lovely smile, and how his heart sang when she directed that smile at him. He lie down on her bed, turned his head into the pillow and drank in her perfume, clutching the wedding gown in his arms as though she were inside it.
He thought she loved him; she said she loved him and now she had fled and she would not have done that if she loved him. Everything had been so good between them until she fell ill and even afterwards they had been close. He wondered if it were possible she thought herself a burden in her weak state. That would be like her, to think somehow to free him of an encumbrance. But she still would not go without a word.
He could think of no reason why she would have left him and that made it somehow worse.
Antonia managed to travel some twenty miles before she felt safe enough to stop. She found a small town with a respectable looking inn and stables for her pony. She was anxious to get on, but she did not want to ride her any farther until she was well rested. She could have changed horses, collected her later, but she had no intention of coming back this way.
She dismounted and led the little mare into the stables behind the inn, leaning on the bamboo cane as she went. There was a man brushing down a huge, bay horse in one of the stalls when she entered and he looked up with a smile.
"Lovely little mare," he remarked.
HOLY POISON: Boxed Set: The Complete Series 1-6 Page 43
