"What have you done?" She whispered in a frightened voice. "What in God's name have you done?"
She looked angry and fearful at the same time and Estelle was suddenly afraid to stay with her. She wrenched her reins away from her grip and kicked her horse to a canter, took off toward home, leaving her mother sitting in her saddle and staring after her.
Estelle’s face was wet with tears by the time she got home and she flung open the door to find Joshua waiting in the hall.
"Where is Mother?" He asked at once.
"We argued," Estelle mumbled a reply. "She is coming."
"Father is waiting to see you."
She knew a little dart of fear then. He had been angry that morning when Frances told him about Simon and it had scared her. She wondered what sort of welcome she would get now, considering what she had allowed her mother to believe. She should not have done that, it was very wrong, but she wanted to get some reaction from her, perhaps make her slip up and tell Estelle why they had forbidden the marriage.
"Is he still angry?" She asked her brother.
"I do not believe he was ever angry with you," he answered.
"Well he gave a very good impression of it."
"He was angry with himself, not with you." Joshua paused then put his arm around her. "What he has to tell you is very hard for him."
"You know?"
He nodded.
"He thought I had a right to know, but he wants to tell you himself. Wait for Mother. I must return to my wife."
Just what she needed to complete this day, a wave of shame for her own selfishness.
"Forgive me," she said. "I have not even asked.”
"Do not concern yourself. She is well; my daughter is also well." He wore a self-satisfied little smile as he spoke.
"A daughter?" She threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek. "How wonderful. What name will you give her?"
"We have not yet decided," he replied, then he turned to look toward the door where their mother stood staring at Estelle, her eyes wide, her mouth turned down in fury.
Estelle knew she was the cause of that look on her lovely face; she was the one who had chased away her serenity, her happy smile.
Bethany walked past her daughter toward the sitting room door.
"Come with me," she said angrily.
Estelle did not want to go with her. Her father was on the other side of that door and if her reaction was any indication, he would be even angrier. She had never known either of them to be angry with her before and although she had been given freedom to choose her own future, this time she had gone too far. They had trusted her; had they not trusted her, she would never have had the freedom to fall in love with Simon in the first place, so whose fault was that? Theirs for misjudging her character, or hers for betraying their trust?
Bethany stopped and grabbed Estelle’s wrist painfully, her nails digging into her flesh as she dragged her, stumbling, into the sitting room. Her father was sitting before the fireplace, drinking wine and staring thoughtfully at the cold hearth. He glanced up as they entered and Estelle’s fear subsided a little. She could see no anger in his eyes, only sorrow.
Her mother still clutched her wrist tightly, as though afraid she might try to escape. The silence in the room was heavy, the atmosphere intense. She wanted to break into that silence, tell him he had to let her marry Simon, that it was too late for anything else. Even though that was a lie, they had no need to know that. But her courage failed her. Her mother’s reaction had been fearsome enough; she could not even imagine what his would be like.
"There is no easy way to tell you this," he began slowly, his eyes firmly fixed on the red liquid swirling in his goblet, "so I will come straight to the point. If you are going to hate me for it, breaking it to you gently will make no difference." He paused and sighed deeply, then lifted his eyes to meet hers. "You cannot marry Simon Carlisle because he is my son."
Her heart almost stopped in her chest and she jumped. She started to shake, to tremble uncontrollably. Her mother still clung to her wrist and she wrenched herself away, staring from her to him, looking for some unlikely chance that it was a huge joke, a joke in the worst possible taste.
He stared back at her and her anger drained when she saw the anguish in his dark eyes. It was some minutes before she found her voice and when she did it was hoarse and quivering.
"You and Simon's mother?" She asked shakily.
"Yes," he said, and the shame in his voice brought her to tears. "Me and Simon's mother, your mother's sister, my neighbour's wife."
"But..."
She was about to tell him it was too late, that they had to marry now, but all she could do was thank God it was a lie, thank God Simon had refused her. Where would they be had he not refused her? She shivered as it gradually began to seep into her mind what he had actually said. Now she knew why that smile of Simon's was so familiar and that afternoon she had tried her best to tempt her own brother, to hold him in her arms and long for his touch.
She felt sick to her stomach. She turned and fled to the kitchen, only just holding on until she got to the slop bucket.
"My Lady," one of the maidservants addressed Estelle with concern in her tone. "Can I help you to bed or anything?"
She nodded. She wanted to be away from everyone, in her own bedchamber.
"Do you want me to help you with your clothes, My Lady?" she said.
"No, thank you. I will just lie down for a little while."
The servant left her to lie and think about what she had almost done, what her father had told her. It was her own fault. They had told her she could not marry Simon and she should have realised they had a good reason, not some feud from the past. That was not their way, not at all. But she had to know better, she had to decide she would force them into it, make them give consent. Now what was there to do?
There came a gentle knock at her door.
"Go away!" She yelled.
The door opened slowly and Alex poked his head inside. Alex! Oh, My God! Did everybody know of her shame?
"Can I come in?" He asked in a gentle voice. "I thought you might need someone to talk to and Joshua is busy with his new baby."
She had never been really close to Alex, not like Joshua, and now she felt touched that he would take the time to comfort her.
"So you know as well?" She asked him.
"Father thought it best."
"Does the whole household know?"
"No. Just the three of us, although I expect Joshua has told his wife by now."
He approached the bed and sat down beside his sister.
"I am so sorry, Estelle," he said in a comforting tone. "I hate to see you unhappy and when it all seemed to be going so well. It is a terrible thing for you to find out like this."
"What of you? How do you feel about having an extra brother?"
Alex was well known for not letting anything bother him too much and she was not surprised to find he had accepted this in his usual, nonchalant way, like everything else.
"I was not in love with him, was I?" He asked.
"We thought it was because of the past, because his father..." She stopped and laughed derisively. "His father, what a joke! Mr Carlisle blames our father for the death of Simon's mother. Father was an important advisor to Queen Mary, Charles Carlisle was a resistance leader, helping Protestants out of England. They were deadly enemies. Simon and I…we believed that was their reason. We could think of nothing else."
"You are very foolish," he scolded, almost making her think he was the older one. "You must have known Father would not have refused you on those grounds. You must have realised it was something more serious than that."
"It never occurred to me. I thought of all sorts of other things; I thought of hereditary diseases, religion, everything, but the idea of Father being unfaithful to our mother with her own sister was not something that occurred to me."
"Well you did not know she was her sister until today, did you? And I
do not think it was like that. It must have been before he married Mother, possibly even before he met her. In fact, I heard they met at a ball in Winterton House, so it was through her sister they met. We all accepted Rachel into this house, believing the rumours about her which neither one of them denied. The idea that there might have been other women should not come as such a surprise."
She made no reply, just stared at the ceiling, wanting desperately to wake up and find it was all a horrid dream. She longed for Simon, longed to have his arms around her. Knowing the truth did not make her love him any less, she could still want him, still want to feel his lips on hers, his hands on her body. Her cheeks began to burn and she was sure Alex knew what she was thinking, but he made no comment.
"What am I going to do now, Alex?" She asked. "I shall never marry, that is for certain."
"I think it is far too early to be thinking of that," he said soothingly. "Things will work out, you will see. The first thing you need to do is mend your broken heart."
She looked at him and held back more tears.
"When did you become so wise?"
There was another knock at her door but this time nobody waited for an answer; Bethany just opened it and came in.
"Mother," Estelle greeted her, her cheeks flushing.
"Alex, could you leave us, please."
Her brother leaned over and kissed her forehead then he left them alone, while she dreaded the confrontation that was sure to come.
Estelle was still looking for that smile, but it failed to appear. She was afraid she might have banished it forever.
"You are a very silly girl," she scolded. "And what was Simon thinking? If he could do that, I have to wonder about him. I find it hard to believe that Charles Carlisle would not have instilled some sense of morality into him."
“I lied,” Estelle muttered quietly.
“What?”
“I lied. I wanted to force your hand and Simon would have nothing to do with the scheme. I tried to tempt him, but he refused.”
Bethany sighed with relief.
“Thank God one of you had some sense at least,” she said.
“I wanted to tell you before you had a chance to tell Father, but I just could not speak. Is he very angry with me?"
"I have not told him," she replied and Estelle sat up in surprise. “I was not going to tell him unless it was absolutely necessary. Thank God now he will never have to know. This has all been a terrible shock for him as it is; there is no need to make it worse."
Estelle began to sob then, her shame mingling with her heartache.
"So I have not only shamed you, I have made you deceive my father probably for the first time in your life."
She shook her head.
“No, it is not the first time. It was not your fault that you fell in love with your half-brother; we can only pray the shock will not affect your father’s health. He is no longer a young man. Like everyone, he has made mistakes in his lifetime, but he had hoped to put them all behind him.”
“I would not hurt him for the world.”
“He knows that,” she said, gently touching her arm. “As do I.”
***
Estelle cried herself to sleep that night, refusing the food that was brought up for her. She could not eat, and sleep eluded her until she had sobbed herself into exhaustion. Her dreams were filled with Simon, filled with the need and the joy she yearned to feel in his arms.
There was nothing they could do, nothing to be together. Anything else they could have fought, class differences, their fathers’ feud, religion – but not this. All they could do with this was weep.
When she awoke, she heard voices in the courtyard. She climbed out of bed and put a fur cloak around herself to peer out of the window and her heart leapt. It was Simon. What on earth was he doing here? Unless Mr Carlisle had not told him, unless he had found it too difficult.
One of the maids appeared with her breakfast and she drank some milk.
"Help me to dress, please, Dora," she said shakily.
She wanted to go downstairs, to try to find out what Simon was doing, what he had to say and who he had come to see. She was agitated and impatient, waiting for Dora to lace up her bodice at the back, afraid he might leave before she got there.
On the gallery she looked down to see her mother talking to him in a quiet voice, as though she wanted no one else to overhear, but Estelle strained to listen.
"I hope you know how to hold your tongue," she said.
"My Lady, you need have no fears on that score," he replied sorrowfully. "It is not something I want to brag about, not my finest achievement.”
"Why have you come?" She said. "If you have come to see Estelle, I do not think that would be a good thing."
"I have come to see Lord Summerville," he replied. She began to shake her head. "I believe he owes me that much."
"He is heartbroken about this," she said. "He did not know your mother was with child when she ran away. I hope you realise he would never have abandoned her had he known."
Simon said nothing, only studied her, waiting for a decision. At that moment the sitting room door opened and Richard appeared.
"It is all right, Bethany," he said softly. "Simon is right; I do owe him that much."
"Forgive me, My Lord," Simon began. "I wanted only to meet you, not to cause more anguish. My father has told me all he can; I was hoping you might know more."
"About what? Your mother was trapped in a loveless marriage to a man whose preference was for other men."
Simon caught his breath at that, but said nothing. Estelle gasped, watched her father’s eyes move up to the gallery where she listened. Richard strode toward him, stood close to him as though wanting to see him better.
"My wife is correct," he said. "You do resemble your mother, very much."
"You were telling me about her, My Lord," Simon prompted him.
Richard sighed deeply before he went on, perhaps to gain courage, perhaps to better recall the exact nature of his relationship with Julia Winterton.
"She was desperately unhappy and she came to me for comfort," Richard went on. "I took advantage of her."
It was so typical of him, Estelle thought, to take all the blame, typical of him to not once describe her part in it.
"Richard," her mother protested, "that is not true and you know it."
"No?" He asked with a note of remorse.
"She did not think you took advantage of her; if anything she was grateful. I will not allow you to feel shame for something that happened all those years ago, something my sister wanted. You made her feel like a woman again, you made her feel wanted, desired."
Simon's eyes were moving from one to the other of them, but his expression did not change. He had not come to be angry, to seek revenge. He had come only to learn the truth.
As Estelle watched him from the gallery, as she gazed down at this perfect young man about whom she had had such plans only yesterday, the temptation to leap off that balcony was overwhelming. What was there left for her? The man she loved stood there, only a few feet below her, and she would never know the bliss her mother had told her of, would never find that joy in his arms.
She stifled a sob with the back of her hand, and as she did so she felt a comforting arm around her shoulder. It was Alex.
"Handsome devil is he not?" He said.
He was trying to lighten her mood, but it was not working.
"My father tells me you ordered the execution of hundreds of Protestants," Simon said but with no trace of accusation. "Is that true?"
"I had little choice but to carry out the Queen’s orders," Richard replied mournfully. "But I soon found ways to help them."
"He told me," Simon said. "He asked me to thank you. He does not want to meet with you himself."
Richard laughed derisively.
"No," he said, "that would never do. We were enemies for a very long time. But he made your mother happy, he raised her son as his own, even knowing y
ou were also the son of his worst enemy. That says a lot about the man. He must also be distraught that you had to know the truth."
Simon nodded.
"Yes," he answered. "But I have assured him it will make no difference to our relationship. He is still my father, the only one I have ever known or ever want to know."
Estelle saw her father flinch but that was when he put his arms around Simon and hugged him. She felt Alex's hand on her shoulder tighten and she turned to see his surprised expression.
"Thank you, My Lord, for talking to me," Simon said as the two men parted. "I will take my leave now. I hope you and Her Ladyship can forgive me for the anxiety I have unwittingly caused."
“It was none of your doing,” Richard said, “nor Estelle’s either.”
"I shall sell Winterton House, although I cannot imagine how in its present state. It is what my father advised me to do to begin with and now I know why. I shall not return; you need have no fear of ever seeing me again, of your daughter ever seeing me again."
The realisation that once Simon left this house and rode away, she would never see him again was all Estelle could think about. She pulled away from her brother's grip and ran downstairs.
"Estelle, no," her mother pleaded, putting her hand out to stop her as she ran past her.
"I have to say goodbye to him."
"Let her be, Bethany," her father said firmly. "She needs to finish it properly or she will never have any peace."
Estelle ran to the door as fast as she could, before Simon had time to mount his horse and ride out of her life forever.
"Simon!"
He was about to put his foot into a stirrup, but he stopped when he saw her and put both feet on the ground, holding onto the reins of his big grey mare.
"Estelle," he said with a little smile, then his voice dropped to a whisper. "We should have listened; why did we not listen? I am so sorry."
"You need not be," she assured him. "It was not all your doing, was it?"
“What will you do?”
She shrugged.
“Who knows? I will never feel the same about another man, I am convinced of that. I am going to try to get the rest of their secrets out of them, though. I know there is a lot they do not want us to know; I do not need any more surprises like this one.”
HOLY POISON: Boxed Set: The Complete Series 1-6 Page 99
