HOLY POISON: Boxed Set: The Complete Series 1-6

by Margaret Brazear

  She felt sullied enough for having allowed one of them to bed her, to be having his child was something she would keep from him if she had a choice, but to accept him as the husband of her dear sister was just too much.

  “Please, Bethany, do not do this. He will not allow you to keep your own beliefs; he will expect you to follow his superstitions, his Catholic dogma. Does his wealth and title mean that much to you?”

  Bethany turned her face away, but not before Julia had seen the crimson flush which crossed her cheeks.

  “You will turn for his wealth?” Julia demanded.

  “Why do you care?” Bethany asked. “It is not you who is being asked to change her beliefs.”

  “Because you will burn in hell and I will never see you again.” She could say no more; the words would not form, could not get passed the ache in her throat. At last the ache cleared enough for just one condemnation. “Go! Make your dirty bargain with the Earl. You are no sister to me.”

  ***

  The weeks leading up to the wedding were torture for Julia. She wanted desperately to run away, but Geoffrey watched her every move. He knew, she was sure of it. He had been a little too eager to attend the marriage of his hated neighbour and he watched her the whole time they were there.

  “You had best talk to your sister,” he told her. “Wish her well.”

  “What is it to you? You care nothing for her happiness, or his.”

  “I care that if you do not behave like a loving sister, someone is going to wonder why. Do you want her to know what a whore you are? Do you want her to know what manner of man she is about to wed?”

  She had no answer for him; she only wondered if the knowledge would be enough to deter Bethany from her goal. She had accepted his mistresses, his religion; would she also accept this? Julia had a strong suspicion that she would, that she would not give up the Earl and his wealth, even if she was told her own sister was carrying his child.

  Julia felt cold toward Bethany now; all this talk of marrying her to a stranger for a title had turned her from the sweet girl she once was into someone who would sell her soul for wealth and power.

  And what had Geoffrey planned for the future? He would not allow her to keep the child, that was for certain. He would take it away, abandon it somewhere whilst she lie helpless from the birth. She could not allow that to happen; she had to get away somehow.

  She thought of telling her father that the Earl he was so pleased about was a hated Catholic, but that would mean imprisonment for Richard and the loss of all his lands and wealth. She did not want him to suffer. He had given her something special and she would be forever thankful. Geoffrey would not betray his secret either, for fear of his own secrets being revealed.

  ***

  Julia expected her sister to visit her at the first opportunity, but she was relieved when she made no appearance at Winterton House. She had been dreading the encounter; her figure was swelling and she was sure Bethany would notice. Of course, she would think the child Sir Geoffrey’s, but Julia had nothing to say to her. She had still not forgiven her choice and she was not sure she ever could. She had asked herself many times if she would have done differently, given the same choice, and each time the answer was ‘yes’. Julia was devout and would tolerate anything rather than become a Papist.

  A few days after the wedding, Geoffrey came to her bedchamber as the maidservant left. It was the first time he had set foot inside since their wedding night and she was quite sure he had not made the effort to make a further attempt at his fumbling advances.

  She had just climbed into bed and now she pulled the covers up over herself and watched as he closed the door and stood leaning against it for a moment, that cruel smile on his face once more.

  “Why have you come?” She said. “Has the wedding given you romantic thoughts?”

  He made no reply, just strode quickly to the bed and pulled the covers from her. His eyes moved over her and he reached out a hand and traced a line over the slight bulge of her stomach.

  “You are with child,” he said. “It is Summerville’s bastard?”

  She did not reply, just bit her lip to stop the tears which were gathering, threatening to overflow.

  “What do you care?” She answered at last. “You can pretend you are a real man if I have a child.”

  His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed as he raised his hand and slapped her face, hard enough to form a bruise by morning.

  She let out a scream and he grabbed her face and squeezed it tight to silence her, then he pushed her away, her head bounced on the pillow behind her and he took her wrist and twisted it painfully.

  “Had you told me earlier, I could have helped you,” he said.

  “You? How?”

  “I could have found someone to get rid of it. As it is, I will have to allow it to grow, to fester like a parasite until it tears you apart to give itself life.”

  His mouth formed a grimace of distaste as he spoke, but still his words gave her hope.

  “So you will allow the child to be born?”

  “I have no choice,” he replied. “But do not begin to plan a nursery. As soon as it breathes its first, it will be gone. I will not have that man’s brat in my house.”

  She began to shake her head, the tears finally winning and flooding down her injured face.

  “You will not take my child.”

  “I will smother the bastard; trust me on that. It will not breathe life for long.”

  The instinct for maternal protection fought with self pity and won.

  “And what do you think Richard will do when he learns that you murdered his child?”

  He towered above her, fury staining his flesh to crimson.

  “Richard, is it now?” He said mockingly. “Well, you will not leave this house again to tell him, be sure of that. He will never know what happened to his brat and if you defy me again, he will never know what happened to its mother either.”

  She watched him go, jumped as the door slammed behind him. She had no choice now. She could not seek help from the child’s father because he had married her sister; she could not stay here where her child would be murdered. No doubt Geoffrey would accept all the condolences of the neighbourhood and his friends, no doubt he would play the attentive husband and cherish each moment of the attention.

  She cried herself to sleep that night, but in the morning she packed as many of her clothes as she could manage, took the jewels which Geoffrey had given her to give the impression of being a devoted husband and stuffed them into the travelling bag along with her gowns.

  She heard a horse galloping away from the house and glanced out of the window to see him riding away towards Norwich and his latest paramour. If that was where he was going, he would be gone all day and now she began to feel some of the spite which seemed to come naturally to her husband.

  She put her bag under the bed and went across the gallery to the bedchamber occupied by Sir Geoffrey. She had never been in here before and now she stopped and looked around at the pictures which covered the walls. There were a lot of them, paintings and sketches, all of handsome young men in erotic pose.

  Julia shuddered and went to the cabinet beside the bed. It was not locked; doubtless he thought that unnecessary, that she would not dare to invade his privacy like this. He was wrong. She bent down and withdrew the leather chest from inside. This was locked, but she shook it a little to be sure the family jewels, the jewels which had been in the Winterton family for generations, were there. Why should she not have them? Had she not suffered for them?

  Had he been content with threatening and mistreating her, she would never had thought to rob him; once he threatened her baby everything changed.

  On a side table she found a knife, an ornate dagger with a jewelled handle. She held fast to the chest and plunged the tip of the dagger into the lock, pulled as hard as she could to tear the leather on the catch and opened it to see the beautiful jewels her husband had briefly shown her just aft
er their wedding. She thought he was going to present them to her; what a fool!

  She gathered them up and shoved them into a velvet purse she carried with her, then she picked up the dagger and pushed it into the purse as well. She would either use it as a weapon or she would sell it; it was obviously valuable.

  Downstairs, she opened the window and dropped the travelling bag out onto the ground behind the shrubs which grew against the house. She wanted none of the servants to see her with it.

  Outside, she ran to the stables and tacked up Guinevere herself, looked around to be sure she was not seen, then collected her travelling bag and rode away. As she passed Summerville Hall she slowed, wondering if there was still a way to tell Richard about her predicament, about the child. It was not as though Bethany loved him, was it? It was not as though she had not accepted him for what he was; it would surely come as no surprise to her.

  She gathered what little courage she could muster and hoped she could find him alone. She had no time to waste, but she was making her way at a steady pace toward the house when she saw in the distance two people walking in the grounds. From here, she thought at first glance the woman was Richard’s mistress, with her dark hair and perfect figure, and she was offended on her sister’s behalf. He was married now; he should not have the woman in his house while his wife was there. That was disrespectful, no matter what their agreement.

  But as she drew closer she realised it was Bethany and she saw that the couple were holding hands. As she watched they stopped walking and turned to each other; he drew her into his arms and kissed her while she clung to him as though she would meld with him, just as Julia felt she would meld with him when he had kissed her. But not here, in the open? This was very different to the foreplay to an afternoon of passion.

  She could scarcely believe this was her independent and outspoken sister. What on earth had happened to her in the few days since her marriage to this man? Julia already knew he was charming and handsome, she also knew about his skills with women, knew first hand, but it seemed Bethany had fallen completely under his spell.

  No, she could not tell him. Obviously the unforeseen had happened; her sister was in love with this man. Julia was still angry with her for marrying a Papist, but not angry enough to want to destroy the happiness she had apparently found in this unlikely place, no matter how short-lived it turned out to be. She could only envy her and pray for her future.

  She turned her horse and kicked her into a trot, then a canter; she intended to be many miles away before dusk.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Geoffrey returned to Winterton House that evening worse for drink, which always fuelled his temper. He should not have drunk so much, but he was angry. His latest conquest had proved to be a male whore, which he had not expected of one so young, and he was angry with him. He was also angry with his wife; it was not just that she had betrayed him so soon, but that she had betrayed him with his worst enemy.

  He would never have admitted his reason for hating the Earl as he did, but in truth it had more to do with the man’s attraction for women and his power over the entire neighbourhood than any harm he had suffered at his hands. Geoffrey always felt threatened by him and he knew he could cause him untold damage were he not a Papist with secrets of his own.

  Geoffrey had married Julia for her fortune and to have a wife to hang off his arm at functions. People were beginning to talk about his single state; it was not normal for a man of means and title to remain unmarried for so long and her father was so desperate for an open door into society, she suited his purposes wonderfully well. He had expected her to obey him, as the church ordered, but obviously that would not happen. He saw her sneaking off that day to be with Summerville and to know she was expecting his bastard was just too much.

  Now he must suffer the sight of her belly swelling and her breasts leaking, as well as having to pay out for midwives. They would have to be qualified midwives as well, or the gossips would start over again.

  His threat had not been an empty one. As a man he had little compassion and he would not hesitate to smother the brat the minute it was born. He would make sure to be there, hovering in the next room like a good husband and he hoped it would look like its father; that would make it so much easier to carry out his intention.

  But perhaps it was not too late to put a swift end to the life which grew within her, he thought viciously. He gripped the riding crop in his hand; he was looking forward to this. She would learn where her loyalties lie, even if she did have to learn the hard way.

  He grabbed the banister rail on his way up the stairs to keep from falling and stopped for a moment to steady himself. The walls began to spin and he squeezed his eyes tight to stop the motion which was the result of too much strong wine.

  He had been building up a rage throughout the day. He was too lenient with the whore last night, far too lenient. She deserved a beating and he was in the mood to deliver it.

  He stood outside the door to her bedchamber for a few moments, once more trying to collect himself into some semblance of sobriety. He expected the door to be locked against him; it would be the sensible option and from what he had learned of his wife, she was no fool. But it opened easily and he flung it against the wall, his hands clenched into fists, then stopped when he realised she was not in her chamber.

  “Julia!” He shouted as he hurried down the stairs and into the hall, then the sitting room.

  One of the servants came running from the kitchens.

  “Where is my wife?” Geoffrey demanded.

  “I do not know, Sir Geoffrey,” the woman replied. “I have not seen her all day.”

  He spun around and ran from the house to the stables. Darkness had fallen and there were no torches to light the stable area, so he had to go inside to see that Julia’s mare was missing. His fury growing into a monster he could barely control, he went back inside the house to her bedchamber and found her jewel chest empty.

  He stopped still, shaking his head as a sudden thought occurred to him. No, she would not have stolen his jewels, would she? Not the ones which had been in his family for generations. But his cabinet was empty, the lock on his jewel chest ripped open, and that was when he knew she had escaped and the monster finally consumed him.

  He picked up the chest and flung it at the window, smashing the glass and leaving shards outside on the stones.

  ***

  It was almost dark and Julia was exhausted when she first caught sight of the small farm house in the distance. She breathed a sigh of relief; she could not have ridden any farther and if the folk here were not kind, she would have to find a place to sleep outdoors. Guinevere was also weary and needed hay and water; surely they would be kind to her, if not to a married woman who had run away from her husband.

  She thought about Geoffrey and his anger when he found her gone and for the first time she wondered if he would take the trouble to look for her. He had married for her fortune and for the credibility she would give him; he would look very foolish when it was learned his wife had left him after such a short time.

  She also thought of the scene she had witnessed in the grounds of Summerville Hall. Poor Bethany; she was going to get her heart broken. Julia had no doubt about that, but was that not better than her own situation. At least she would know what real love was, something Julia would never experience.

  She saw a light, the flame from a torch bobbing about in the gathering darkness as it moved toward her and her heart skipped. She could not see the person who carried it, only that it was a man, a tall, well built man from his silhouette, but she drew rein. She could not go another step and she was concerned for Guinevere. Still she stayed mounted, feeling safer lest this man posed a threat.

  As the man came closer she saw that he had a kind face, dark auburn hair and beard and a ready smile.

  “Good evening, Madam,” he said. “Are you lost?”

  “Sir, I am in need of shelter and my mare is in need of sustenance and rest.”r />
  He held out his free hand in a gesture for her to dismount which she did, but she was so stiff from the long hours in the saddle, she almost fell and he leapt forward to catch her.

  “You are welcome,” he said. “Let us get you inside. Your name?”

  “Julia,” she said. She did not want to tell him the rest.

  “I am Charles Carlisle.”

  “This is your house?”

  “It is, humble though it is. My father left it to me when he died.” He swept his eyes over her expensive clothing, felt the satin of her gown against his fingers where he held her waist to assist her. “You are welcome,” he repeated.

  He began to lead the way towards the house, but she could not keep up with his brisk stride. She was stiff and sore, muscles in her back screaming in agony. She stopped walking and clasped her stomach. She felt too stiff to move and for the first time the child inside her moved. She should have been overjoyed, but this was not the best entry into the world.

  It was but a short distance to the house and as they walked Julia saw a few smaller cottages with lights coming from inside.

  “My helpers,” Charles said. “They have all gone to their homes for the night. There will be but the two of us in the house.”

  Any other time his words might have bothered her, but now they meant nothing. She was too desperate for a bed to lie her weary body on.

  “Should I be concerned?” She asked.

  “No. I only wanted you to know.”

  His smile was infectious and she soon found herself smiling back, despite her exhaustion and discomfort. The child moved again and this time her companion spoke.

  “You are with child?” He asked.

  Julia nodded.

  “Will you still help me?”

  In reply he passed the torch to her and tightened his grip around her waist.