He had been removing his outer clothing and now he stopped and stared down at her with angry eyes.
"Is that what you think of me?" He demanded. "That I would run into the arms of the first woman who will have me because you and I have quarrelled? Is that really what you think of me, that I am that shallow?"
"No, of course not," she protested. "Forgive me. I am just so... I have missed you so much and you do not seem to have missed me at all."
He continued to stare at her, then he took off his doublet and came and sat beside her. She was having difficulty holding back tears and she was angry with herself for that. Why was it her fault? He was the one who had taken to sleeping elsewhere, he was the one who had left the marriage bed, not her.
"Susannah," he said at last, "I have missed you. I have lain awake at night and longed to take you in my arms and make love to you."
She looked at him doubtfully. Was he lying?
"But still you did not come to me," she murmured.
"I have let my pride get in the way and for that I am sorry."
Then he kissed her, thrilling her to her core, and slipped his hand inside her bodice to cup her breast.
“Joshua,” she murmured against his neck. “I am with child.”
***
Susannah kept her own counsel about Charlotte, about Louisa and Lucy getting all that money. She did not think she would ever understand what Joshua referred to as his father's 'liberal ideas', but they could agree to disagree as long as she could treat Charlotte with the respect her husband insisted she deserved.
So she was the daughter of Richard Summerville’s cousin, Anthony? Susannah liked to think it was a forbidden love affair and Anthony had been killed somehow before they could marry. It seemed he would have married her, even though she was a servant, since the man who had raised him would have approved of that.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Bethany felt him go. She remembered all those years ago, when she believed herself a widow and wondered why she had felt nothing when he died. But he had not died, not that time; this was different. It was still dark when she felt him go and she turned toward him, rested her head on his chest and felt no heartbeat but her own.
Hot tears warmed his chilling flesh and she pulled his arms around her, just as they had been when she fell asleep. She wanted to return to sleep, to awake in the morning and find it was all a bad dream, but she knew it was not.
As dawn broke through the windowpanes she opened her eyes to see him cold and stiff, to see his black eyes dull and staring. She could not bear that, not those dancing black eyes which twinkled at her, which brimmed with love for her.
She reached up to close the lids over those eyes, eyes which were telling her his soul was gone. She found it hard to move. She was trapped in his embrace but the idea made her smile; she had been trapped in his embrace since the moment she met him, even when they were apart, even when she had betrayed him and believed he loved another woman, even then she was trapped in his embrace.
Her arms went around him, pulled him close to her; perhaps if she held on tightly enough he would not be able to leave. She dozed, was woken by knocking. What were they doing? They knew, the whole house knew they did not disturb her and her husband, they did not enter this chamber while they were here.
Nancy’s voice was clear; poor Nancy. Bethany recalled that first night, when she had sat on the edge of this very bed whilst Nancy and another servant undressed her in readiness for her new husband. How she had sobbed and Nancy thought it was fear of the wedding night; she had no idea it was fear of God’s punishment for giving her soul over to the papists. And she had been punished; she had lost the man she loved, she had lost her child and her heart had been broken in a thousand tiny pieces.
But she had been given a second chance and those years had gone too quickly. How would she live without him? If she stayed here and clung to him, perhaps she would not have to.
***
After her talk with her mother, Estelle realised there had been a lot more to her parents’ parting than she was prepared to reveal.
Pining for Simon would help no one and Estelle agreed to go to London, to Lord and Lady Kennington and there she stayed for some months after Alex’s wedding.
Autumn was closing in before she returned; she had met some interesting people there, including a young widower whose wife had died in childbirth. He was not Simon, he never would be, but he was a nice man nonetheless. Only time would tell.
It was comforting to be back in her own bed and she woke late the following day. She opened her eyes to the familiar surroundings of her own chamber where she had not slept in months. The sun was gleaming through the window where one of the maids had opened the shutters.
It happened every morning that she would wake thinking of Simon and remembering he could never be hers, that she had no right to want him. This morning was different; this morning she thought of her future without him and the idea did not hurt so much.
One of the servants brought her breakfast then stood looking uncertainly at her as she drank the milk, but pushed away the food. She could not eat; she was still too miserable to eat. At last she realised the maid had something on her mind and she pushed her own problems aside to tend to hers.
"It is His Lordship and Her Ladyship," she said shyly.
"What about them?"
"They have not come out yet," she muttered. "It is almost noon and there is no sign of either of them."
Estelle studied her for a few moments, still fuzzy from sleep and trying to think of a good explanation. It was late, it was true, but perhaps they needed more time before facing the world this morning.
"Has anybody knocked?" She asked, knowing it to be a superfluous question.
"Yes, My Lady. Nancy has been knocking and calling and there has been no reply. She sent me to get you."
Why me? Estelle thought.
"Go and fetch my brother," she told her. "He will be about the place somewhere."
The maid turned and fled toward the door and the east wing, while Estelle climbed out of bed and pulled off her shift. She took a clean one from the chest and pulled on a cloak to cover it and as she came fully awake, the enormity of the problem suddenly hit her. The servants all knew they did not try to enter her parents' bedchamber until summoned, but for there to be no reply to their knocking, something must be terribly wrong.
She met Joshua outside the door and their eyes met in alarm.
"Father!" Joshua called loudly. "Mother, open the door please."
He rattled the handle but of course it was locked. She recalled that morning when, as a child, she had gained access through the adjoining chamber. It was worth trying at least. She touched her brother's arm and beckoned him to follow her.
The other door was also locked, but on the dresser beside it was a key. Joshua picked it up and pushed it into the keyhole, glancing back at her as he turned it, releasing the lock. She followed him inside, her heart hammering painfully, as though it might burst out of her chest.
They were lying in bed, she in his arms, almost exactly as Estelle had seen them all those years ago. He was lying on his back, she was lying half on top of him. The only difference this time was that he was stiff and cold and she was clinging to him as though she could bring him back by sheer force of will.
Estelle closed her eyes, praying that when she opened them again, it would all be better, her father would not be lying dead in her mother's arms. Joshua leaned over and tried to move Richard’s arm away from his wife, but it was stiff and would not move.
"Estelle," he said, "come put a cloak around her. She is naked."
He turned away while his sister gathered up her mother’s cloak from a chair and moved to pull her out from her position.
"No!" She cried out suddenly, turning blazing eyes on them. "What are you doing here? You know you are not allowed in here."
"Come, Mother," Estelle said gently. "You must get up, come with me."
"
No! He will expect me to be here when he wakes," she insisted. "I am always here when he wakes."
It was easy to tell by the falter in her voice and the tears that gathered in her eyes that she knew very well he would never wake.
Joshua turned back to the bed and stood where she could see him.
"He is not going to wake, Mother," he whispered through his tears. "Not this time."
She tried to lean up, just as she had all those years ago as Estelle watched, and she knew she wanted to kiss him as she had then. But this time she was caught in his rigid embrace and could not move. She kissed his nipple, then rested her head back on his chest and held on tightly.
"Mother," she tried again, "let me help you."
She shook her head and clung on tighter to his naked chest. Thank God his eyes were closed, thank God they could not see that the light had faded from those velvet black depths, could not see that they no longer danced with mischief.
“Mother,” he said. “You must let someone help you. Who do you want?”
She shook her head and once more snuggled against her husband’s cold body. Estelle did not think she could stand much more and she longed to run, to flee from the house, far away where she would never again have to think about recent months. She was certain it was the shock of her and Simon falling in love that had stopped her father’s heart.
"Get Nancy," Joshua said.
Estelle unlocked the main door and went out into the gallery where a lot of the servants were gathering, and spotted Nancy, standing with the others and ringing her hands worriedly. She had been Mother's maid since she first came here as her father's bride. Surely she would let her help her.
"Nancy," she said through her tears, "my father is dead. My mother will not let anyone help her."
She gasped and covered her mouth, then nodded and followed her into the chamber where she stopped, startled, as she observed the scene before her. At last she drew a deep breath and walked hesitantly toward the bed.
"My Lady," she said. "Come away now. Let me help you."
She moved to pull the bedclothes away so that they could ease Lady Summerville down and away from the body, but she resisted her as well.
"Go away!" She cried. "I want to be here when he wakes."
Joshua shook his head, not knowing who else to call. Had she not been naked, he would have forced her out himself but he thought that an affront to her dignity.
"Lucy," Nancy said suddenly.
"What?"
"Lucy," she repeated. "She was the only one Her Ladyship would have when she gave birth to Mr Alex, when she was so ill. No one else would do. Perhaps she will let her help."
Joshua looked doubtful but he left the chamber and ordered one of the men servants to go and fetch Lucy, then sent another to fetch Alex. They would be in need of his help too.
He came alone, as Charlotte was heavy with child and would not show herself. Susannah too was expecting another, but none of this had penetrated Estelle’s selfish soul. She had been far too concerned with her own guilt to even notice and now look what had happened.
“It is my fault,” she mumbled miserably to Alex.
He put his arm round her, pressed her head against his chest.
“How can it be your fault? You have not even been here.”
“It is because of Simon. Had I never fallen in love with Simon, this would never have happened. The shock was too much for him.”
“And how were you supposed to know that? If you want to blame someone, blame Sir Geoffrey’s brother for leaving him Winterton House so he could come here and meet you. Hell, blame his mother for finding her way into our father’s bed; blame him for bedding her. It is nobody’s fault; it just happened. Mother needs you now; you must be here for her.”
When Lucy came she was mopping tears from her eyes with her apron. She knew Lord Summerville well, better than most of the servants here, and she too was grieving, but she managed to persuade Bethany to leave her bed and cover herself.
Estelle watched through the open door as her mother turned back to the bed and bent her head to kiss her husband's cold lips. She kissed him passionately, as though trying to evoke a response, to wring some sign of life from him and perhaps she was.
Then Lucy took her into the adjoining chamber and helped her to dress, while she stood staring vacantly at the walls.
"Thank you, Lucy," Estelle said as she came out of the room and handed the care of her mother to Joshua and Alex, both of whom had tears in their eyes.
She too wanted to cry for him, but she did not feel she had the right, nor ever would.
Word soon spread in a house full of servants and it was not long before Susannah made an appearance, covered in a heavy cloak to hide her bulging figure. Alex had taken Mother downstairs to the sitting room while Joshua took all her clothing from the bedchamber and locked both doors so that she did not try to return to bed.
"You are the Earl of Summerville now," Estelle told her brother. He looked startled at the very idea.
"I will never feel like it," he replied. "There will only ever be one earl as far as I am concerned."
He left to start arrangements for the funeral while she followed Susannah to the sitting room to attempt to comfort her mother, who sat before the fire and stared at the flames. She did not react when Susannah sat beside her, just kept staring at the dancing colours as though seeing her whole life replayed in them.
"He has had no Last Rites," she muttered, still staring at the fire.
"He does not need them," Susannah answered her soothingly, looking a little uncomfortable. "You know that."
"He will think he does," she said, then she turned to see who was there. Her eyes swept over Estelle and moved away. "Thomas!" She called out.
Thomas came at a run, bowed, and waited to hear his orders. Despite being married to a wealthy woman, he still wanted to serve in this house. He was devoted to the Summervilles, just as all the long standing servants were. Bethany could trust him with anything.
"Go to the Masons on the other side of the village, please," she said. "They keep a Catholic priest in hiding there. I want you to ask him to say masses for His Lordship's soul."
Susannah was horrified. She had never been officially told that Joshua’s father was Catholic, only by Estelle, and that was unintentional, because her mind was on other things. Now she was worried about breaking the law. She would rather not have known that the neighbours kept a Catholic priest in their home but it hardly mattered at a time like this.
"My Lady?" Thomas asked, puzzled.
She pointed at the table beneath the window.
"There is a purse in that drawer," she said.
Estelle stood up and went to the table, gave her mother the purse and she took five gold coins from it to give to Thomas.
"You must pay the priest," Lady Summerville said. "It is likely the Masons will deny all knowledge of him. Tell them what has happened, tell them who you are. If they still refuse, give Mr Mason the money and ask him for the masses. He will arrange it."
"My Lady," Thomas said as he bowed and left the room.
"Why are you doing this, My Lady?" Susannah asked. "You are not Catholic."
She stared at her vaguely as though she had forgotten who she was.
"Richard is," she replied shakily. "He would want it. I did this for him once before, when I believed he was dead, and it meant such a lot to him."
She transferred her concentration to the flames then, just sat staring at them, remembering that other terrible day when she had gone to the village priest to buy masses for Richard’s soul, when she had gone to the Tower to see him, to say goodbye. She believed him dead that day, believed they had cut off his beautiful head and hoisted it on a pike on London Bridge.
She shuddered. She knew he would leave her one day, she knew she would have to go on without him; he had been twice her age when they wed. She only sixteen, he thirty two and widowed, although she knew nothing about that at the time.
She knew they were all watching her now, all waiting for her to fall apart and she might just do so later, when she had made sure his soul would be looked after according to his own beliefs. Not hers; her beliefs mattered not at all, just like last time.
Susannah said nothing and Estelle went to kneel at her mother’s feet.
“I am so sorry, Mother,” she whispered. “It is my fault. Had I not fallen for Simon, none of this would have happened.”
She turned her head and looked down at her, stroked her cheek with her soft hand.
“It was nothing to do with that,” she said. “He has been slowing down for a long time, reflecting on his life. He has spent a lot of time in prayer; I think he knew death would not be long in coming.” She caught back an escaping sob and buried her face in her hands. “I do not know how I am ever going to live without him.”
Estelle knew if she stayed there she would shed her own tears and they would be no comfort to her mother. She left her with her brother's wife and went to the picture gallery to gaze upon the portrait of her father as a young man, so handsome, so strong. Next to it hung a portrait of the Earl and Countess both together, looking so happy, so content with each other. Would she ever know a love like theirs?
Next in the row was a portrait of her sister, Alicia. She was only about a year old when this was painted and it must have been hard for the artist as a baby that age would not keep still for him. She had a cheeky grin on her face, and her dark curls spilled out from a blue velvet bonnet and on to her shoulders.
“You will be waiting for him, won’t you?” She spoke to the painting. “You will be waiting to comfort him when he gets to Paradise.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Susannah left Lucy to comfort Lady Summerville, if comforted she could ever be. She pulled her cloak about her and accompanied her husband to the village to tell the villagers and arrange the funeral. She could not let him do this alone and his brother had taken on the melancholy task of breaking the news to the tenants on the estate.
They took the carriage because of her condition, and as they rode through the little street, people waved and smiled, just as they always did to Lord Summerville. That was when it occurred to her that Joshua was Lord Summerville now and she was his Countess, but these people did not know that.
HOLY POISON: Boxed Set: The Complete Series 1-6 Page 101
