"I would say that where there is spilled food there are rats," he replied.
"You could be right," she said. "The fact remains that had Maisie not spilled the broth, had the rat not come along and eaten it, at this moment I would be putrefying in your family vault and you would be playing the part of the grieving widower, whilst planning your marriage to Camilla."
"No! Whatever her purpose, I would not have married her. I found out what she was like when I told her about my father's Will. She behaved like a spoilt brat who had lost her prize."
"And you want me to believe that, do you? You told me you loved her."
"I thought I did, until you showed me what love really is. Now I have lost it and it is all that witch's fault. If she were here now I would be tempted to strangle her with my bare hands."
She watched his fists clench and his face flush angrily.
"That would not be very wise, would it?" She sighed softly and leaned back against the seat. "You can have no idea how much I want to believe you, Robert. The problem is I cannot and I cannot trust you. You changed so suddenly, I must have been really stupid not to realise straight away it was an act. How can I tell that this is not also an act?"
“I knew that was it! Damn it! I changed suddenly because I learned a few things. Firstly, I learned it was not you who persuaded my father to make his Will as he did. Secondly, I learned that Camilla was not worth having and more important than that, I learned that losing her did not hurt at all. It had no affect on me.”
“I am sorry, Robert,” she murmured. “You mean the world to me, you really do, but I am so afraid.”
"So everything we were building, the trust we were developing between us, the love we were just beginning to nurture, that has all gone?"
She made no reply, only closed her eyes to trap a tear which fought to escape from beneath her eyelid. She felt the carriage slowing to a halt, recognised the familiar sound of the cobblestones of Roxham Hall and she opened her eyes.
She sat up and looked out of the window. It was misty, the autumn chill creeping into the carriage, and she caught sight of the thatched cottage next to the main house.
"Your father's steward left when he died, went to live in the next county to be near his mother."
"He did," Robert said warily.
"Have you engaged another steward?"
"Not yet," he answered. "I have had no time. I had not thought of it. Why, what are you asking?"
She turned and looked at him.
"Can I stay there?" She asked. "In the steward's house?"
"No," he said. "You must stay with me."
"I cannot stay with you, Robert," she insisted. "But if you allow me to live in the steward's house, I swear I will not run away. You have my word."
He looked stricken and her heart went out to him, her resolve almost melted.
"Please, Antonia," he said. "We need to talk."
"We will, but I cannot stay with you."
"And I cannot let you go," he replied. "I am afraid to let you out of my sight. It was sheer chance led me to you this time; what will I do if you run away again? I could not bear it."
She put her hand up to his cheek and caressed his face.
"I am sorry, Robert. I am more sorry than you can possibly know. But I need to think, I need time to myself and I shall be safe alone."
"No," he insisted. "You can have your own chamber, the one at the end of the house."
"The one through three others and I suppose you will take the one next to it."
He nodded.
"I want you with me. I know I am earning myself no favours, but I could not stand to lose you again."
She felt defeated, forced to give in, wanting very much to give in but still harbouring those fearsome doubts.
Inside the house her heart skipped with pleasure to be home again. Whatever the future held, she had missed this place, missed it very much.
"My Lady!" Frederick's voice came from behind her. "How delightful to see you."
"Hello, Frederick. You are well?"
"I am now, My Lady," he answered, taking her cloak. "I was very worried that His Lordship may not find you."
Robert watched the exchange from where he still stood beside the front door, that little smile of satisfaction playing about his mouth. He held out his hand and took hers, then led her into the small sitting room and poured honey mead into two cups.
"Welcome home, My Lady," he said, holding his cup of mead. He took a sip of it, then handed it to her and took hers in exchange.
That evening they sat together at the high table in the great hall, drawing the excited attention of all the servants who sat at the other tables. Antonia's return was causing lots of gossip, lots of speculation as to why she had gone in the first place, but her heart warmed to the happy smiles which met her.
Their suppers were brought and placed before them; Robert made a point of eating a small piece of everything on his plate, then exchanging it for hers.
"Are you going to be my chief taster from now on?" She asked.
"Yes," he answered, then he felt in his pocket and brought out a key. "This is for you to lock your chamber at night. I do not want you lying awake wondering if you will be attacked in your sleep."
She placed the key beside her platter as she ate her meal, her glance falling on it frequently, and tried to decide how she felt. He said nothing, no persuasion, no more assurances, merely ate in silence.
When she had finished she turned to face him.
"I no longer believe you will try to kill me," she said quietly. "But I am not convinced you did not want to before Camilla was lost to you. I am sorry."
She picked up the key and walked quickly, trying to appear dignified before the household. Reaching her chamber, she turned and locked the door behind her. She walked slowly to her bed, the same bed on which he held her down and threatened to rape her, the same bed on which she struggled, kicked him, and where he would have struck her. But he stopped himself from doing that and now for the first time she began to have doubts as to his reasons.
Was it really because he did not want to be like his father, or was it because he wanted to win her over, persuade her to marry him? Had he already formed a plan to gain his title and wealth then find some way to rid himself of her?
She lie down on the bed, buried her face in the pillow and wept.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Autumn flew by quickly. The leaves turned to a beautiful shade of gold then fell to form a carpet in the woods. Antonia had ridden through those woods on her little mare every year since she arrived at Roxham Hall when her parents died, but this year Robert insisted on going with her.
"You are making me feel like a prisoner in my own home," she argued. "Is that really what you want?"
"No," he answered. "But I do not want to lose you, either."
"You will not lose me, Robert," she assured him. "I am not going to run away. I tasted life as a paid companion, I tasted the intimidation of being threatened by high and mighty lords. I know where my best interests lie, and they lie with you, in this house. You want me to believe you; why do you not believe me?"
"Because I am afraid," he answered. "I do not see how I will ever earn your trust again and that frightens me. We were beginning to build a future, we even talked about a family. Now there is nothing left and it is all because of a spoilt brat who has never done without anything in her life before."
She watched his expression as he spoke of Camilla, watched carefully and he really seemed to be sincere. She would give anything in the world to know that he spoke the truth, anything.
"We can still try to have a son, Robert," she said quietly. "I am still your wife. I still recognise my duty to you."
She rode slowly, ducking her head as she rode under the low branches, the dry leaves crunching beneath her mare's hooves. Robert drew rein and watched her go, her words pounding in his head. She was getting farther away and his heart trembled with fear that she would not return, that
if he once let her go, he would never find her again.
"Wait!" He called out and she drew rein and turned in her saddle, watched as he caught up with her.
"Yes?"
"Do you really think I could do that?" He asked her. "Bed you only to conceive a child, knowing it is not what you want? I could not do that. I love you too much to ever do that."
His heart skipped when she leaned across and touched his hand.
"I shall return to the house," he said at last. "I have things to see to and I need to decide upon a new steward."
"So that I cannot escape to the steward's house?"
"Because I need a new steward," he answered with a smile, then he leaned down from his tall horse and gently kissed her lips. "Please be careful out here alone."
She frowned, puzzled.
"You are letting me ride alone? You are trusting me?"
"I have to. I cannot bear to see you ride away; I am terrified you will not return, but as you say, if I want you to believe me, I have to believe you."
"Thank you."
"Thank you," he answered.
"For what?"
"For teaching me about love and trust, for breaking my heart and making me realise what I lost." He smiled again, a regretful smile, then turned his horse back toward the house. "Please do not be long."
She continued on her ride alone, turning frequently to be sure she was not being followed, but she did not go as far as she might have. Somehow the idea of Robert waiting and worrying spoilt her ride, despite it being the first time she had been out alone since he rescued her from Lord Durston at the palace.
She turned back and rode into the courtyard, led Emerald into the stable block and removed her saddle and bridle. She spent some twenty minutes brushing her herself, while one of the grooms was brushing Robert's horse in the corner. So he had kept his word, he had returned alone and let her ride out without him. A little smile formed on her lips.
She led the mare outside and into the paddock, where she removed her halter and watched for a few moments before returning to the house.
Sounds of the midday meal being prepared greeted her inside the house and she made her way up to her chamber, wanting to rest a little before it was ready.
As she made her way through the two chambers which led to her own, she noticed at once that they were both empty. Robert's belongings had gone, all his clothing, all his jewellery and his purse. She turned when she heard him behind her, gave him a puzzled frown.
"I have returned to my own bedchamber," he told her. "Your words have haunted me; I do not want you to feel like a prisoner."
He turned and walked out and she listened to his footsteps descending the stairs. She continued on her way to her own chamber and lie down on the bed to think, her hands loosely clasped together on her stomach, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. She was mystified by this new change. Whatever the truth of the matter, Robert seemed to change very rapidly from not letting her out of his sight to giving her all the freedom she could want. From threatening her with rape and violence, to tenderly winning her love. What was the truth? That was the only question she needed answered and she saw no way to achieve that.
He would not bed her merely to conceive a child, that is what he said. Perversely, she was disappointed. She really missed their nights together, but her pride would not allow her to invite him to her bed. She was safe now, she knew that, but what of before?
She could not forget the little dead eyes of the rat.
Christmas brought a few guests from the neighbouring estates. Robert had invited them, wanting them all to know that he had his countess back where she belonged and he made a show of affection which she was not sure she should trust.
They walked together to the village church for midnight mass, wrapped in heavy fur cloaks against the falling snow, which sharply reminded Antonia of that first day he arrived, believing the house and estate was his and then learning there were conditions. Was that when he had formed his plan? No, first he had gone to consult two lawyers about overturning the Will, then he had ridden off despondently to tell Camilla the bad news.
It was on his return that things had changed, that he had first tried to force her into marrying him, then decided to woo her instead, not to mention making her feel obligated because of his father’s benevolence to her.
They stood through the gruelling and tiresome Latin service which Queen Mary had imposed on all her people, and she could almost feel Robert's resentment at the obligation to put on a show. He was fiercely against this Queen and her Catholic church and that alone worried his wife. She held on to his hand, leaned close to him, and whispered.
"Have a care, Robert. It is so obvious you do not want to be here."
He looked down at her and smiled bitterly, but he calmed down a little, much to her relief.
She could see people were inquisitive, she could sense their curiosity in their glances, in the way they watched the couple together and she remembered how so many people she met during her time away had assumed he was violent towards her. That distressed her now as it had then and she moved close to him at the table, turned and kissed him, felt guilty for building his hopes.
"What was that for?" He whispered.
"To allay suspicion," she replied. He gave a puzzled frown and she realised he had no idea what all those people had thought. "I do not want them to think badly of you."
He smiled, and his smile touched her heart. He seemed so genuine; why could she not accept his word?
“You know,” he said quietly so that only she could hear, “I am the one who should be angry. I am being falsely accused, losing the love of my life because of the actions of someone else and I have no way to convince you I am innocent. How do you imagine that feels?”
She made no reply. If he spoke the truth he had every right to feel outraged, but her mind had caught the words ‘love of my life’ and those were the words she wanted desperately to believe.
She enjoyed the Christmas festivities, she enjoyed being with Robert again, and by the time twelfth night arrived her certainty that he was responsible for her sickness, that he had wanted her dead, was beginning to wane.
"I so want to believe you, Robert," she told him. "I really do."
"I cannot help you with that. I have done all I can to convince you, yet still you do not trust that I speak the truth. If Camilla were here I would strangle her just to prove my love for you."
He was joking, of course, but still she could not be certain.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Although enjoying her new found freedom, since Robert decided to trust that she would not run away, his generosity had caused even more doubt. She had fallen in love with this man and she wanted to be able to express that love, she wanted a return to the time when they were beginning to care for each other, before Camilla had thrust her poisoning spy among them and destroyed her trust in him.
She had almost accepted that he spoke the truth, that she was never meant to die, or even if she was he had no part in it. She began to feel a little flutter of excitement deep inside her as she sat in the small sitting room and recalled those nights of passion in his arms. She longed for those nights, longed for those arms.
She got to her feet and walked slowly to the great hall, hoping to see Robert alone when his meeting was over. He was meeting with prospective stewards, hoping to place a family in the empty dwelling if only to prevent his wife from moving there.
She waited beneath the stairs, hoping this latest candidate would not be long, but as she peered through the runners of the spiral staircase she saw more than one person. Was he interviewing more than one man? But there were six men sitting around the high table in the great hall and not one of them wore the garments of a servant. Her heart almost stopped when she overheard the conversation which had nothing at all to do with employing a new steward.
"If we can stop this marriage, it will suit me," one man said. "Elizabeth should be Queen, yes, but it is the marriage that needs sto
pping. You would have thought if Mary could be persuaded how much her subjects are against it, she might think again."
"You are expecting common sense from the woman?" Robert replied harshly. "You are expecting her to listen to her subjects instead of that old man in Rome? I hear she has already convinced herself she is in love with Philip; she has no idea what the word means!"
"But the Princess Elizabeth has given no indication that she approves of the rebellion," another spoke up. "She may not agree to take the throne even if we do succeed in overthrowing Mary, and she is unlikely to agree to a marriage with Courtney."
"One thing at a time," Robert's voice overruled the others. "Wyatt is arranging a meeting at Allinton Castle. We will go there, see how the land lies."
Antonia watched her husband gather some documents, roll them up into a scroll as an indication that the meeting was at an end. He was plotting against the Queen, committing treason and risking his life.
She knew he was against Mary, but she had no idea his feelings ran this deeply. She would lose him after all; she had to make him see how futile the scheme was, that there would not be enough support.
She too was unhappy to have the Catholic fanatic on the throne, but she would be content to sit it out and hope she did not reign for long. And marriage with Philip? Philip of Spain? No wonder there were plots against her.
As the men began to leave the hall, coming towards her, she quickly crouched down and hid beneath the staircase, keeping very still and hoping she would not be seen. Her heart was breaking as she saw the real meaning of Robert's recent agreement to her freedom.
All the men left except one.
"My Lord," he said, "are you quite certain you should be involved?"
"What?"
"You have no heir. I know things have not been on friendly terms between yourself and Lady Roxham, but if you are to risk your life, you need an heir."
The stony stare which Robert gave him made Antonia shiver, caused the man to take a step back.
"That is none of your business," he said firmly. "Relations between my wife and I are our concern, not yours. I will thank you to keep your advice to yourself."
HOLY POISON: Boxed Set: The Complete Series 1-6 Page 49
