"You have no rightful place that I do not choose to give you," Richard told him. "As to respect, that must be earned."
"You respected me well enough before she came along," Anthony said bitterly. "Are you so besotted you do not see how low she has brought you?"
"You will not speak of Bethany that way," Richard said angrily. "Take your belongings and leave, now."
"She is nothing, Richard," he went on. "She is a commoner. Are you surprised at the way she behaved? She knows no better."
Richard took a step toward him and grabbed his jacket in both hands. He was enraged; Bethany could see it in his eyes and in his clenched jaw. She had been on the receiving end of that rage. He had barely held it in check for her; would he do the same for Anthony? Could he?
"No!" She cried as she ran down the stairs. "Richard, please. There is no need for this."
He released his hold on his cousin but did not step back. Anthony scowled at her.
"Anthony, please," she pleaded. "Supposing you could persuade Richard to agree with you, supposing he did decide that my crimes were too bad to forgive. What then? I am his wife and I will remain his wife. Nobody else can give him an heir." She stopped as the thought suddenly came to her. It was not what she started out to say, it was not what she had been thinking, but somehow it all made sense. "Or is that your plan?"
He frowned at her angrily, while Richard turned to look at her with a puzzled frown.
"What do you mean by that?" Anthony demanded.
"Perhaps you grew accustomed to being the Lord of the Manor while Richard was at court, perhaps you do not want him to have a son."
Richard turned back to him with suspicion in his eyes.
"Is she right?" He demanded. "Do you see yourself as the future Earl of Summerville?"
"No, of course not!" Anthony replied, raising his voice in protest. "I only want what is best for you, Richard. That is all I have ever wanted."
"Then you will stop trying to come between me and the woman I love. Perhaps one day you may be fortunate enough to love someone as I love Bethany. Then you might understand that I would forgive her anything, absolutely anything."
Anthony's eyes moved from Richard to Bethany and back again and she could see that nothing had changed. He shook his head, then moved toward the stairs.
"I am sorry, Richard,” he said. “You may be in love and able to forgive; I am not. I know you will say she has done nothing to me for which she might need my forgiveness, but that is not true."
"What?" She asked as he started to climb the stairs. "What did I ever do to you?"
"You almost cost Richard his life," he answered bitterly. "You would not follow his wishes, as a wife should, despite your promises. You very nearly lost us Summerville Hall and he will forgive you because he thinks himself in love."
"That is enough!" Richard shouted, that rage building again.
It seemed Anthony was determined to have his way. Richard went to the top of the stairs that led down to the servants' quarters, and called for a servant to go to the attic and collect the chest. Then he turned back to his cousin.
"I am still your heir," Anthony was saying. "It took her long enough to conceive a child the last time. You will regret this when she turns out to be barren. You have no one else to leave your title to."
Richard gave him a harsh glare, then glanced at Bethany. She nodded slowly.
“That is where you are wrong," he said sombrely. "I have a son and if my wife and I fail to produce a male heir, I will leave the estate to him. I am sure it has been done before."
Anthony's expression changed to confusion, then anger.
"You have a son?" He demanded, then he whispered beneath his breath: Rachel? He tossed his head at Bethany. "And she knows about him?" Then a little light of understanding dawned in his eyes and he smiled spitefully. "Lady Winterton," he said quietly. "Her sister. You would leave this noble old title to the son of a condemned heretic rather than me. But you cannot leave the title to an illegitimate son. You know that as well as I do.”
Bethany hoped he would go before Richard did something he would regret.
“That is true, but I can leave him everything else.”
“You would not.”
Richard sighed wearily; he wanted no more of this argument.
"Now you will leave this house, please, and never return," he said. He moved to Bethany’s side and put his arm around her possessively. "Even were you to get down on your knees now, it would be too late. I would never trust you under the same roof as my wife. Now leave, please."
Bethany watched him go, watched while the servant carried his chest to the waiting carriage and tears brimmed up in her.
"Do not weep for him, my love," Richard said softly.
"I am not. I am weeping for that closeness you two always had and now I have destroyed it forever. I am weeping for myself, for my shame and my guilt."
"You will not be guilty for him. He is the one in the wrong, not you."
"Did you mean what you said to him? Would you leave everything to Simon Carlisle?"
"I am not sure. I do not think I want to leave anything to Anthony after the disrespect he has shown to you. We need to try harder for a son, that is the only solution."
While they ate their supper, several of the servants came in to see Richard, to be sure he really had escaped the executioner's axe, that he was really alive and back with them. It was very heart warming.
"First thing tomorrow, we had best show ourselves in the village," he said when the last of the staff had gone. "It seems they will believe nothing but a personal appearance."
***
As they rode through the little street toward the inn, everybody stopped to talk to them, everybody wanted to touch Richard and be sure he was real. Bethany was so proud to be the wife of the man they all loved and respected.
There was a familiar carriage waiting outside the inn.
"That is Rachel's carriage," Richard said, drawing rein.
Then her maid came out and loaded a small box onto the carriage. She turned when she saw them and curtsied quickly.
"My Lord," she said. "My Lady. We are just getting some supplies for the journey. Her Ladyship wanted to be sure everyone saw her leave."
Richard got down from his horse; Bethany was prepared to wait, but he turned and held out his hand to help her down.
It was going to cause gossip such as never before when people saw His Lordship with both his wife and his mistress together.
Rachel sat at a small table drinking ale, looking as beautiful as she ever had, and Bethany followed Richard toward her, watched her stand quickly, watched as he took her in his arms and kissed her cheek. Jealousy stabbed her heart; she was only half convinced the pair were just friends.
In the corner were Connie and Will, their tenants from the Summerville estate, and they both looked first annoyed, then embarrassed when they noticed Lady Summerville. She understood then, more than she ever had before, why Rachel felt she had to go. These people would always resent her; they would never believe the truth even if they knew it, but she did not want them to know it. As Richard's mistress she felt like a normal woman. People may have been talking about her, but they were not saying she was some sort of freak.
"I hope you were not planning to leave without saying goodbye," Richard said.
She smiled her beautiful smile then held her hand out to Bethany.
"I came to say goodbye this morning," she said. "But the servant did not want to disturb you. It was not early."
"Nobody told me," he replied.
"Of course not," Rachel said with a laugh. "They do not want me coming along and spoiling things."
There was a silence in the little inn and Bethany looked about at the curious stares of the other patrons. She wondered what they must think of this scene. Richard, saying farewell fondly to his mistress in public and with his wife looking on. The mistress returning his kiss without an ounce of shame, the wife, holding her hand and
wishing her well. It must all have seemed very odd to them.
"Is there anything we can do for you, My Lady?" Bethany asked.
"There is," she replied quietly. "Can you make sure Lucy is paid? She is to carry on keeping the house for me until I decide what to do with it."
"Of course," Richard replied. "I shall see to it myself."
He escorted her out to her carriage while his wife took a seat and ordered ale for them both. She could not help but overhear the whispering from the corner.
"Well, what do you think of that?" Will was saying. "A lot of people, you know, were against that marriage. They thought His Lordship was wrong to marry out of his own class, said she would never know how to behave. Seems that little display just proved them all wrong."
"Why do you think she did it, though?" Connie was whispering. "I would have torn her eyes out."
Will was thoughtful for a few minutes and Bethany smiled to herself. What would he say, she wondered, if he knew she could hear every word?
"Anyone else and I would say His Lordship had told her to do it, but that is not his way; not hers either. Perhaps she is just glad to see the back of her. It is obvious she loves him, wants him to herself."
"That is why I would have torn her eyes out," Connie replied.
"No, do you not see? If she is unkind to Lady Rachel, he might feel sorry for her and take her back. Her Ladyship would not want to risk that."
"Mmmm," Connie muttered. "Well that may be how the nobility carries on, Will Cooper, but do not think you can get any ideas in that direction."
Richard was taking a long time to bid farewell to Rachel and Bethany could see the innkeeper peering through his window, looking to see what was taking so long. She felt an urge to get up and see for herself, but she talked herself out of it. Either she trusted him, or she did not. There was no in between.
She turned her attention back to Will and Connie. It was not often she had an opportunity to learn exactly what the tenants and servants thought about things, and she wanted to make the most of it.
"His Lordship finally asked me to burn down the cottage by the church yesterday," Will was saying. "You know, the one where that poor leper lady lived."
Bethany had to hear this, had to be sure the tale of the leper lady was believed.
"I wonder what happened to her," Connie replied. "She did not die there, that is for certain. I do not recall her leaving either. She just sort of disappeared."
Of course she did, Bethany thought. She donned her Countess guise and moved back to Summerville Hall.
"I expect His Lordship found her a place," Will said. "There is a colony just outside Cambridge, or what is left of one. I expect she needed care by then and he thought it would be best."
"But who was she, that is what I would like to know?" Connie asked impatiently. "Just some leper whose father used to work here? I have been here all my life and she was not someone I remember. It all seemed a bit suspicious to me, I do not mind telling you."
"Well, who else would she be then?"
Connie shrugged.
"Who knows? Perhaps another of His Lordship's paramours fallen on hard times."
“His Lordship would never allow a woman he had been close with to live like that. You know that, Con.”
A woman he had been close with. And what was his wife but a woman he had been close with? Yet he had no compunction in forcing her to live like that, had he? She felt the anger welling up inside again, just as it had come when she stood in that little hovel only yesterday and remembered.
She loved Richard, loved him more than anything in the world. She would do anything for him, even accept that beautiful woman into his life, but memories of the year she had spent living as a peasant in that freezing hovel? They had the power to diminish that love and let the hatred in.
Will and Connie seemed to have no more to say, for which Bethany was grateful.
CHAPTER THREE
Nothing was heard from Anthony and by Christmas time Bethany suspected she had conceived. She was thrilled but also afraid; the idea of having another child brought those painful memories of losing her little Alicia rearing up to haunt her. She could not go through that again.
There were also memories of that other Christmas, Alicia’s first Christmas which she spent alone with her mother and the servants because her father was too involved with entertaining the Queen and the beautiful Lady Rachel to spare them a few days. That is what she had believed then and as she watched the holly being gathered and hung about the great hall, as she watched the dishes for the feast being made, that heartache also came rushing back to hurt her again.
She had to suppress these bitter memories, she had to hide them away where they could no longer trample on their future. She watched him writing invitations for the Christmas festivities, watched his handsome face and wondered if he, too, was remembering and trying to bury his own resentment.
She walked toward him and slid onto the bench beside him, ran her hand over his thigh; he stopped writing and turned to kiss her. She felt the love in that kiss, love which was almost physical and she knew that he, too, was struggling to bury the past.
***
Richard opened up the church again, although it could only be reached through the underground passage from the house. He often attended mass in secret, and he had found apartments for the priest in the first floor rooms within the east wing. He did not invite Bethany to accompany him and she did not ask. Perhaps he realised she would never have the heart for it, that it would be hypocritical. Queen Elizabeth, although Protestant, was not as devout as either her sister or her brother and although the religion of the land was now Protestant, she did not seem to care if Catholics held mass, as long as it was done in private.
Richard showed his face in the village church with his wife, as that was the law and only she knew he still held a Catholic mass.
She was curious about the religion, though; she always had been, especially things like confession. In all the time she had paid lip service to the Papist faith, she had managed to avoid that particular ritual. She never could understand how it was possible to reveal one’s closest secrets to anyone, much less a celibate priest.
She hoped Richard did not tell the priest about their intimate life; she would have hated to think that, whenever she saw Father McEntire he might be imagining her and Richard together, might know every detail of the intimate things they did.
"I tell Father McEntire a few little sins just to keep him happy,” Richard told her.
“What sins?”
“Oh, like drinking too much strong liquor or having carnal thoughts about a serving girl."
“What?"
"I am allowed to think about it, why not?" He smiled mischievously. "Anyway, I would never tell a priest or anyone else my real sins. God already knows about them."
Then she raised the other subject she had been concerned about. He could not be in two places for midnight mass.
"It is an excellent question, my dear," he said. "I shall, of course, accompany my wife. It would look suspicious otherwise and my own mass will be delayed until after."
"Then I will go with you," she told him.
"There is no need for that," he said. "It is not what you want."
"What I want is to be with you, to support you. I will go with you."
She was rewarded with a delighted smile which she was not sure she deserved. She no longer cared that much about religion, if she ever had. She only cared about her husband and she would support him now in all things.
She wondered briefly if she would do the same again, if another Catholic fanatic ever ascended the throne, and she decided she would not, not this time. That betrayal nearly cost her everything, including her life, her husband's life. It simply was not worth it. If others wanted to risk their lives for an unforgiving God, so be it; Bethany would not be helping them again.
That night, when they retired to their bedchamber, a place for which Richard would allow access to
no one while they were inside, she waited for him to unlace her bodice, then turned to face him.
“I have something to tell you,” she said, her eyes meeting his.
He smiled, held his arms around her waist.
“That you are with child?” He said.
“You know? How do you know?”
“I guessed,” he said. “The way your face glows, the way your breasts have swelled.” He ran his palm over her stomach. “The way your figure has changed.”
“But it hardly shows at all.”
“It is enough. I know every inch of you, likely more than you know yourself.”
She sighed softly.
“Are you pleased?”
“Of course.” He pulled her close, kissed her.
“You will stay with me?”
“Whatever do you mean? Of course I will stay with you. Where else would I go?”
She rested her head on his chest, trying to avoid the memory of the Christmas when she was heavy with Alicia and he had filled the house with Catholic nobles.
“I was just remembering.”
“Hush,” he put a finger to her lips. “Do not remember anything that makes you sad. I love you and I will stay with you, always. Just try to make me go.”
"Can I ask a favour, Richard?"
"Anything, you know that."
"I do not want a Catholic midwife," she said, watching his face for a reaction. "I do not want her superstitious scrolls and dishes, nor her Latin prayers."
He held her gaze for a few seconds, then smiled indulgently.
"Very well. If that is your wish, it shall be done. Anything else?"
"Yes," she replied. “I do not want to disappear into an airless confinement chamber. I want you to stay with me, here in our bedchamber, until the very last moment. Will you do that for me?”
***
The midwife showed her disapproval with scowls and headshakes. No confinement chamber for a countess? She had never heard of such a thing. She wanted to close all the windows and the drapes, but Richard would not allow it.
“Lady Summerville particularly asked that they remain open,” he said.
HOLY POISON: Boxed Set: The Complete Series 1-6 Page 78
