"I am only too pleased to help, my dear," she said as she stepped forward and took Estelle’s hands. "Louisa will get us some refreshments."
She turned to smile at the woman who took her cloak and went to arrange drinks. This was the woman her mother had spoken of, the one Rachel had found in an orphan home and rescued.
As she sat with her drink and watched her hostess, she could well understand why people believed her to be her father's mistress. She had never seen anyone quite so fascinating to look upon.
After four weeks during which a dressmaker visited many times with sample fabrics and took measurements, Estelle had a whole new wardrobe of satins, velvets, lace, cloth of gold, brocade petticoats and embroidered bodices. She had sleeves embedded with pearls and headdresses decorated with delicate filigree and precious stones.
"You look beautiful," Rachel told her as she stood for the dressmaker to put the finishing touches to one of these wonderful creations. "Just like your dear mother."
Estelle smiled, wondering briefly if she approved of her being told about her. She could understand her position, but she could not understand the mutual respect and apparent friendship between these two women in her father's life. She was sure if he were her husband she would be frantic with jealousy, whether she believed the rumours or not.
"Tomorrow night is the presentation," she said. "Is there anything you are unsure of? Anything I can tell you?"
"I think not. Was it your mother who presented you?"
A sadness shadowed her beautiful features and she shook her head.
"My mother died when I was but ten years old," she replied. "The first time I went to court it was with my husband, the Earl of Connaught. King Henry was on the throne then."
"King Henry?" She repeated dumbly.
It seemed quite unbelievable that she was at the court of King Henry, especially as a married woman.
"Is that where you met my father?" Estelle asked quickly, not really sure whether the question would be welcome.
"Sort of," she answered. "I was only seventeen when I met him and he was not much older. His first wife was alive then."
"Rosemary? You knew Rosemary?"
She nodded hesitantly, while Estelle’s imagination was busy once more. If his marriage to Rosemary was unhappy, and this beautiful creature was there to give him solace, she could not believe like her mother they had never been lovers.
"What was she like?" Estelle asked eagerly. "Mother said it was not a happy marriage. She said my father did not grieve when she died."
"She tells no lie. Your father was very unhappy with her and it was a blessing to him when she died and he married your mother."
Estelle’s curious mind was full of questions again, questions she dared not ask. Rachel made it sound as though he had married her mother almost immediately after his first wife's death, but that was not possible. Bethany had been but a child then. He must have spent those years being 'of one flesh' with other women, if not this one.
***
Although Lady Rachel was in her fifties, no one could fail to notice the admiration she attracted from all the gentlemen at court. Estelle glanced at her with a ready smile, only to be puzzled that she did not look pleased. Any woman would have been happy to attract so much attention, surely. She only looked angry and Estelle realised this was probably why she had stayed away so long. The attention was unwanted and unwelcome.
Queen Elizabeth was a much smaller woman than Estelle had expected her to be. She had heard so much about her she rather expected her to be a giant, but she was shorter than Rachel and wore such heavy and voluminous clothes, she could not imagine how she walked in them and stayed upright. She had bright orange, curly hair, which people said was a wig, and she wore rows and rows of necklaces. Her bodice and skirts were encrusted with what looked like precious stones and the huge ruff around her neck made it difficult for her to turn her head.
Estelle wondered why any woman would dress like that, when it was so obviously uncomfortable. She supposed it reinforced her status as Queen, let everyone know she considered the position to be rightfully hers even if others did not.
Rachel stepped forward with her charge when they were announced and curtsied, very deeply, not just a bob as she was used to. The Queen leaned forward and put out her hand for Estelle to kiss her ring.
"Lady Estelle Summerville," she repeated slowly. "The Earl of Summerville is your father?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," Estelle muttered, wondering why she had singled her out for conversation and wishing she had not.
"You have brothers?" She demanded to know.
"Two, Your Majesty."
She nodded knowingly.
"And are they as handsome as their father?" She asked.
Estelle looked up at her sharply, surprised to learn that she knew her father.
"Yes, Your Majesty," she replied after a moment. "They both resemble him."
She smiled then, a little knowing smile which made Estelle wonder if she was about to ask more awkward questions. The woman terrified her and she began to wish she had not come.
"I did the right thing in sparing him," she murmured almost beneath her breath. "Perhaps we will see your brothers at court in the future."
Estelle stood then backed away from the throne, clutching Rachel's hand as she drew close to her and dragging her along to a quiet corner.
"What did she mean?" She asked when they were out of earshot. "What did she mean that she spared my father?"
"I think that is something he needs to explain himself," she replied carefully. "If he has not told you, I am not sure he wants you to know."
"No! It is unfair to send me here and have me learn that not only is the Queen well aware of who he is, has obviously met him, but for some unknown reason she has spared him. Is this why he would not come to court himself?"
"I will discuss it with you when we get home," she assured her with a sigh of resignation. "There are too many curious ears here."
Then the attention began in earnest. Several gentlemen approached them and most were interested in presenting themselves to Rachel, despite the obvious displeasure their advances created. Some had sons they wanted Estelle to meet and she could not pretend she did not enjoy that aspect of the evening.
She learned that at least three of these titled gentlemen had already approached her father with a view to arranging a match, but had been told no arrangement could be made without a meeting with her first. She wondered why they pursued the idea, when they had also been told she was as yet too young. Lord Summerville must be more important than his daughter realised.
There was a ball later and she was not short of partners, unlike some of the plainer girls who decorated the walls with their gloomy faces. One girl came to talk to Estelle and presented herself as Catherine, the daughter of the Duke of Deeping.
"You are the sister of Viscount Joshua Summerville?" She asked excitedly.
Estelle looked at her curiously, wondering how she knew of her brother. She was a very pretty girl, with blonde hair and blue eyes and an infectious smile.
"I am," Estelle replied, glancing at Rachel for guidance. She only smiled.
"And is he not here with you?" Estelle shook her head. "I am disappointed. He is one of the gentlemen my father is considering as a match for me. I am very pleased to hear the Queen say he is handsome."
Estelle was astonished. She had no idea negotiations for a marriage were being made for her brother, nor that anyone would simply accept that as this girl seemed to. She was also surprised to hear him called a gentleman. He was barely sixteen.
"My parents have not mentioned it," Estelle told her.
"Well of course not," Catherine said in a condescending tone. "Lord Summerville is hardly likely to discuss it with you, is he?"
"Yes, he is actually," she replied, somewhat affronted.
The girl looked sceptical and Rachel clasped Estelle’s wrist as a warning for her not to get into an argument about it.
> "I expect to meet with him in the near future," Catherine said swiftly. "My father says it will be a good match."
"I am sure," Estelle murmured, then breathed a sigh of relief as she moved away.
She turned to Rachel.
“My father would not arrange a marriage for my brother like that, would he?" She asked her.
She had not forgotten the talk she had with her mother before she left Suffolk, about how important it was to them that she should marry a man she could love. Surely the same thing applied to Joshua and to Alex.
"He would not," Rachel answered. "This Duke may believe that because of his rank, his pretty daughter and her no doubt generous dowry, he can dictate who she marries, but I can assure you your father would have none of that scheme if it is not what your brother wants."
"I did not think so. My mother told me he does not think arranged marriages are right unless both parties agree."
"And she spoke the truth."
That was when an elderly man approached Rachel, smiling as he stood before her and bowed.
“My Lady Summerville, is it not?” He asked.
Estelle looked around quickly, half expecting to see her mother, but it was Rachel he addressed. She looked like her mother, indeed she did, but not enough to confuse the two.
Rachel got to her feet quickly, a frown of disapproval marring her lovely features and a splash of crimson darkening her flawless cheeks.
“You are mistaken, My Lord,” she said.
“I think not. You are Lady Summerville; I remember you from the late Queen’s household.”
“As I said,” Rachel replied angrily. “You are mistaken. I have been told I resemble that lady, but I am not her.” She took Estelle’s hand and as she pulled her away towards the door, she muttered: “If you will excuse us, Sir.”
“Who was that?”
“I have no idea,” Rachel replied. “I did not expect anyone to recognise me after all these years.”
“If you will pardon me for saying so,” Estelle remarked. “Your face is not one which can be easily forgotten.”
Rachel turned to Estelle, her scowl of anger still evident.
“And it has caused me more trouble than you could possibly imagine. Once again it is interfering in my life.”
Estelle turned to be sure they were not followed, then she halted her steps, pulling Rachel to a stop with her.
"How long must we stay?” She asked. “I can see you are not comfortable here, and I am certainly not. Can we leave yet?"
"We can. We have done our duty and it is getting late."
Rachel arranged for her carriage to collect them and during the journey Estelle reflected on what she had heard. She looked forward to the explanation that Rachel had promised her.
"It is really not my place to tell you," she replied when the subject was broached. Estelle thought she was going to refuse to tell her after all, but she had promised and she did not seem like the kind of woman who would break a promise.
"What did the Queen spare my father from?" She demanded.
"Very well," Rachel answered reluctantly, motioning Estelle to sit beside her. The fire had not yet died, but it was growing chilly in the room, so they both kept their cloaks about them. "I am sure if you were to ask him, he would tell you himself now you know this much. Your father had an important position at the court of Queen Mary."
"I know," Estelle interrupted. "My mother told me he was a close advisor."
"He was. But he grew weary and sickened by the violence in which he was forced to participate. You may have realised your father hates unnecessary violence and he became more and more disillusioned with Mary's religious policies. He grew angry about having to help her in her quest to slaughter innocent Protestants and he started to help them instead."
Why had her mother not revealed this? It changed everything, turned him from a tyrannical bigot to a hero. It made no sense.
"The Queen learned of his betrayal and he was tried and condemned for treason."
"No."
"I am afraid so. He was scheduled to be executed, beheaded. Your mother went to the Tower to say goodbye to him the day before and the following day we all believed him to be dead. She was devastated; we all were. But before it could take place, Mary died and Elizabeth pardoned all the prisoners awaiting execution on Mary's orders. He narrowly escaped with his life."
Estelle was proud to learn her father had tried to do something to stop the brutality, but she could not quite get her mind to accept him as a prisoner in the Tower.
"Is this why he said he does not feel secure in going to the palace?"
“I expect so," Rachel answered. "But more than that, his duties at court took him away from your mother for months on end." She stopped talking abruptly as though she had said too much, then she went on. "He would not want that again. I imagine he would rather stay out of Elizabeth's circle. Her Majesty has a fancy for keeping handsome men close to her."
***
Estelle stayed a few months, visiting other young people in court circles with Rachel as chaperone. She spent time with Lady Catherine, the girl who was convinced her father had but to snap his fingers and Estelle’s father would order his son to marry her. She visited other titled families, in London and in some of the villages close by, who wanted to present her to their sons and their daughters. She believed they thought an introduction to her would gain them an advantage for a future introduction to her brother.
She learned that Lord Summerville had made it quite clear that none of his children would be promised to anyone without their consent and these important men obviously held him in a high enough regard to comply with his wishes.
Despite her mother's warning, Estelle was constantly surprised at the domestic arrangements of some of these families. Some of the fathers did not even live with their wives and daughters, only visited occasionally. Some of the girls were already betrothed and had dates booked for their marriage, but had never laid eyes on the men they were to marry.
She was intrigued and asked one young lady about her future husband.
"He is a marquis," she replied excitedly. "He has a large mansion in Hertfordshire and another in the north of England, as well as a London residence. He has a massive income and I will have a much higher rank."
"But what is he like?" Estelle persisted. "Do you like him? Is he young?"
She only looked puzzled as though she did not understand the question.
"I believe he is some twenty years older than me," she replied. "As to if I like him, well I told you."
No, she did not tell her. He could be a violent brute of a man for all she knew but she did not seem to have considered that.
There was a ball at the Duke's London mansion to end the season and Rachel and Estelle were invited.
"My father has been waiting for weeks for a reply to his request for a meeting with Lord Summerville," Catherine told her when they arrived. "He is coming here tonight, with your brother."
Estelle’s gaze moved from her to Rachel.
"Did you know about this?" She demanded.
"No, I did not. Are you quite sure your father has received an acceptance?"
Catherine was thoughtful for a moment, then she finally shook her head.
"I am not certain, no. But I am sure His Lordship would not refuse my father's invitation."
"Are you indeed?" Rachel muttered beneath her breath, raising an eyebrow.
Catherine moved away then to stand beside The Duke and Duchess and help them to greet their guests.
"I doubt they would come without telling you," Rachel remarked. "But it could be a last minute arrangement."
Then Estelle saw them, both her parents and her brother, lining up to take the hands of the hosts of the ball. Bethany looked stunning; she was wearing the sort of clothes she never bothered with at home, embroidered satin, a gold brocade petticoat and satin sleeves encrusted with emeralds. Her dark hair shone beneath a veil of gold lace.
Once fo
rmalities were out of the way, she turned away and hurried toward her daughter.
"Darling," she said in her soft voice, taking her in her arms. "I am so sorry we did not have time to tell you we were coming. Your father did not want to accept the invitation and he took some persuading."
Estelle rather wished they had not persuaded him if only to bring Lady Catherine down to earth. She hugged her back and realised at once how much she had missed her.
"Rachel," she said, turning toward her daughter’s chaperone and taking her hands. "We are so grateful to you for accommodating our daughter like this."
"It is a pleasure," Rachel replied. "You do realise why you have been invited this evening?"
"The Duke wants to marry his daughter to our son," she answered with a laugh. "He will have to do more than simply ask."
"Don't allow it, Mother," Estelle interrupted. "She is a nasty, spoilt brat."
The two women laughed at that then Richard reappeared, alone, and came toward them. He kissed Estelle’s cheek and held her close to him, despite this being a more or less public place. He was never one to follow convention.
"You look beautiful, my dear," he said, holding her out by the hands to admire her. "Absolutely stunning."
She felt a little tingle of joy at his words. She always felt pleased when he admired anything she did; it made it something special.
He looked about and found two chairs together for Bethany and Rachel to sit down.
"You have been standing long enough," he told his wife, as he led the way.
Then his eyes moved to Rachel and the admiration in them was clear. She did not scowl at his admiring glance, nor did she shrink away. Estelle wondered if she would ever know why that was.
"Rachel," he said at last and he took her into his arms and held her close. "It has been such a long time. We have missed you."
Estelle’s eyes darted to her mother, wanting to see her expression, but it gave nothing away. She was no longer smiling, but as soon as he released Rachel, she held on to his arm tightly as though she was afraid he might slip away.
The two women sat and when at last the music began Estelle found herself dancing with a young man she had met the week before. His name was Edward and his father was an Earl, like hers. She wondered briefly if all these young people were here with the sole purpose of finding partners to marry.
HOLY POISON: Boxed Set: The Complete Series 1-6 Page 89
