“’Tis almost finished,” Margery said.
Hearing the defensiveness in the nursemaid’s tone, the Healer’s demeanor changed. She narrowed her eyes at the nursemaid. “I asked to see the bottle. I did not ask if ‘twas finished.”
Amelie frowned at Margery’s odd behavior. Ever since the king’s men had arrived at Stanbury Castle, she had become increasingly belligerent. “Bring the elixir as she asks, Margery,” she said.
“As you wish, my lady,” the nursemaid said. “I had put it away in the oak chest.”
The Healer shook her head as she watched Margery walk to the foot of the bed and rummage through the ornate chest.
“I have had enough,” Lady Edeline said after taking another sip of the wine. She turned her face and looked tiredly at Amelie. In a whispery voice, she asked, “Were you successful in finding your father?” Her eyes searched Amelie’s face, and then a small smile of satisfaction formed upon her pale lips. “You have found him. Ah, my Gordon is safe.”
“Aye.” Amelie opened her mouth to tell her all the things that happened to her, all the things that she learned. But she stopped. Her father’s life was still in danger, and it served no purpose to reveal this to her mother. She forced a smile to her lips. “He will be home soon.”
Her mother returned her smile. “I knew you would find him,” she said, reaching for her hand and squeezing it lightly. Once again, Amelie wished that she was a child, and the weight of the castle didn’t rest upon her shoulders. But when she looked into her mother’s pallid face, she knew she couldn’t bring herself to let her frail mother take on the heavy burden.
“You are tired, mother,” she said, gently withdrawing her hand. “Close your eyes and rest.”
Just as Lady Edeline gave into her exhaustion and shut her eyes, Margery walked quietly to the bedside. Her hand trembled slightly as she handed the bottle over to the Healer.
“Here is the medicinal concoction, mistress,” she said, her tone hushed. “I used most of it to heal Lady Edeline,” she continued. “I have another bottle in Lady Amelie’s bedchamber. If you would allow me to fetch it, I shall return in due haste.”
The older woman took the bottle from her and pulled out the stopper. Margery stood transfixed as she watched the Healer’s actions before she added quickly, “’Tis a bitter brew. One has to mix it with wine to make it palatable.”
The Healer nodded. There were only a couple of drops left in the bottle, but what remained was a slightly yellowish liquid. Until now, Amelie had never taken a close look at what her mother drank every day. As she watched the Healer’s face, she wondered if there was something wrong with the herbal brew.
“Bring the other vial, Margery,” Amelie ordered. The nursemaid bowed and slipped out of the chamber.
The Healer carefully swirled the bottle and sniffed at the fumes that wafted out from it. She mumbled something under her breath although Amelie couldn’t make out what she said.
“Tell me of my lady’s complaints,” the Healer commanded.
Clarisse spoke up, her fingers laced tightly in front of her. “She complains of headaches, nausea and tiredness, Mistress. On occasion she says that she is encased in a green and blue haze. Other times I do not understand her, since some of the things she says do not make sense. Until now, this was a not a problem.”
The Healer tipped the bottle and put a small drop of the liquid on her index finger. She sniffed at the finger and then placed it on the tip of her tongue.
“’Tis what I suspected,” she said, nodding wisely and placing the stopper back onto the bottle. For a moment, her eyes lingered on Lady Edeline’s face. “Our lady is being poisoned.”
There was a collective gasp.
“How could she be poisoned? Margery is the one…” But even as she said it, Amelie already knew the answer. A sickening feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.
“Are you certain that ‘tis poison, mistress?” Clarisse demanded, her face turning as white as the linen sheet on the bed.
“I was once the king’s royal herbalist, and have spent the better part of my life studying plants and herbs.” She held up the vial for them to see. “From the smell and taste of this brew, I know ‘tis made from the herb foxglove.” She looked from Amelie to Clarisse. “Taken in small, diluted amounts, foxglove causes all the symptoms that Lady Edeline experienced. However in large, potent doses it has the ability to kill.”
Chapter 29
“Kill?” Amelie clutched at her throat, her breath momentarily trapped there.
Closing her eyes, she shook her head in denial. She was so preoccupied with trying to prove her father’s innocence that she failed to notice the evil and danger that lurked under her nose.
“Where is Margery?” she asked, unable to keep the anger from her voice. “It should not take this long for her to go to my bedchamber and return with the potion.”
“She is here,” a monotonous voice said at the door. Everyone present turned at the sound of the voice.
Roldan stood at the threshold, leaning on his walking stick while Margery stood at his side. Behind him were two armed guards dressed in the royal colors.
A hot, white fury surged up into Amelie’s chest. There were now two traitors in the vicinity.
“Lady Edeline has been poisoned, Your Grace,” Clarisse blurted out. She gestured toward the bed, bravely trying to steer the conversation away from dangerous grounds. Her wide eyes fell to Amelie to the Lord High Steward, as if she couldn’t decide who she should look at.
Roldan glanced over at the small figure on the bed, the disapproving expression on his face fading. He tightened the grip he had on his walking stick, and threw a hard look at the nursemaid before answering. “Of all things, Margery had neglected to tell me of this detail until a few hours ago.”
Amelie swung her eyes to her nursemaid. “Why would you —?” Then the realization hit her. She closed her eyes in disbelief just as a wave of nausea crashed over her. Not only did Margery know of her plans, she spied on her, and had reported every last detail to her uncle...
“You are a second mother to me, Margery,” she said, marching up to the nursemaid. “How could you do this to me — to us?” she waved her arm, spanning the entire room. With her voice containing barely controlled rage, she added, “I have known you all my life, and your betrayal cuts into my soul.”
“’Twas for the greater good.”
“Greater good?” Amelie stared at her nursemaid as if she was some stranger that had just appeared at the castle gates. “Do you call almost murdering Lady Edeline the greater good? All this time I confided and trusted in you —” She gasped, her words cut off as another realization seized her. “’Twas you, was it not? You knew of all my plans — the man who attacked me at the Healer’s cottage — ‘twas you who sent him!”
Margery continued to stand at Roldan’s side, her hands clasped in front of her and her eyes cast demurely at her feet.
Amelie made a sound of disgust. But before she could say anything more, her uncle stepped into the chamber.
“You are too harsh on the woman, my dear,” he drawled.
She glared at him. An intense energy of dislike zipped through her body, and it took all of her will power not to reveal the true extent of her feelings. But her efforts failed miserably. She couldn’t comprehend his audacity. How could he appear at Stanbury Castle, knowing that he was the cause of her father’s troubles?
“Why are you here, Uncle?” she said before she could stop herself.
“Such hostility in your voice, my dear,” he said, his tone smooth and bored. But underneath his carefully modulated words, she could sense his extreme disapproval. “Is that how you greet your uncle?” His lips twisted into a sneer. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by your ill manners, should I? You are, after all, Gordon’s offspring.”
He strolled over to the bed.
Amelie snapped her mouth shut, fully aware that it was useless and dangerous to respond to her uncle’s
attack. At this point, he had no idea where Lord Stanbury was. And most important of all, Roldan didn’t know that she was aware of his involvement in the conspiracy.
But as she looked away from her uncle, her eyes fell onto Margery, and she was once again reminded of the nursemaid’s treachery. It was inconceivable that her own nursemaid, a woman that she had loved since she was a child, would turn on her like this.
Margery was lucky that Lady Edeline didn’t die from the poison. If she had, the nursemaid would sure to be swinging from a noose, and not a single tear would be shed for her. Tomorrow, Amelie would make plans to cast her out of the castle. Let her return to the harsh realities of village life, she thought bitterly. Let her dream about the castle luxuries that she had so carelessly tossed away by this unspeakable act.
Amelie started to state her decree, but she hesitated. The woman’s eyes were fixed on Roldan as he stared at Lady Edeline. There was a look of deep pain etched across her countenance, a look that was unmistakable. So was Clarisse right after all? Was her nursemaid in love with Roldan?
“I — I’m sorry, my lady,” Margery said, turning her head and catching Amelie’s stare. Her lips began to tremble. “His Grace told me about the scheme, and asked me to keep a watch over you and Lady Edeline,” her eyes brimmed with tears, “I thought I was doing the right thing…” She looked over to Roldan who was at Lady Edeline’s bedside. A stricken expression crossed over the nursemaid’s features and she raised both hands to cover her mouth. “All — all I wanted was his affection,” she said as a muffled, desperate sob escaped from her.
Amelie twisted away from her nursemaid, not wanting to feel sorry for her. Clarisse caught her eye and jerked her chin almost imperceptibly. Turning around, Amelie felt a shock go through her system as she took in the scene before her.
The Lord High Steward, with his walking stick leaning against the bed, was bent over Lady Edeline. He reached over and gently grasped her hand, murmuring something that Amelie couldn’t quite hear.
Her cousin’s brows creased deeply, and she seemed as equally perplexed over Roldan’s odd behavior. Everyone knew he respected Lady Edeline, as he had never thrown a harsh or sarcastic word her way, but he had never been overtly solicitous toward her.
As if in a dream, Amelie approached the bed, struck by the subtle changes in her uncle’s face. Gone were the hard, unforgiving lines on his visage, and in its place was something soft, something human.
The yellow cast of sickness hung heavily over Lady Edeline, and drool began to slide from the corner of her mouth. Roldan looked around him and spied a cloth in a servant’s hand. He gestured impatiently for the woman to give it to him. Taking the cloth, he carefully wiped the corner of her mother’s mouth. When his eyes scanned Lady Edeline’s sickly body, an unfiltered, raw pain contorted his face.
Even a servant coughing in the background didn’t break him out from his trance. He stared longingly at Amelie’s mother, looking lost, and unaware that there were others in the room with him. He raised a bony hand and smoothed a lock of hair that fell over her forehead. When her mother sighed at the touch, he flattened his palm and caressed her pale cheek almost lovingly.
Margery’s whimpering cries ceased as she watched Amelie’s mother with undisguised envy and hatred. But when Roldan touched Lady Edeline’s face, Margery let out a low, painful moan.
“Edeline,” he whispered.
The sound of her name and the light touch on her face caused her eyes to slowly open, and a languid smile fell upon her lips.
“Gordon,” she sighed.
Roldan withdrew his hand sharply as if a viper had struck him.
Amelie held her breath. Indeed, everyone in the room held their breaths, waiting for the duke’s reaction, and knowing that it would likely be unpredictable.
And they didn’t have to wait long.
He leaned his hands into the bed, his weight making the bed dip. Staring at the mattress, he hung his head in anguish and defeat. A wounded expression clouded his features, and like an approaching ice storm, a bitter, forbidding look spread across his face and became frozen there. Then as if he was aware of the sudden silence, and that everyone in the room now gaped at him, his face became flushed with embarrassment and fury.
“What the hell are you staring at?” he asked, his voice frigid and hard.
The two servants jumped in shock and immediately lowered their eyes. Meanwhile Amelie and Clarisse exchanged a quick glance before they too lowered their gazes to the stone floor.
Her mother’s breathing seemed unnaturally loud in the silence that followed.
“Lady Edeline will need an antidote, Your Grace,” the Healer said, clearing her throat. The unexpected sound of her voice caused Roldan to swing his icy gaze over at her direction. He looked at the Healer as if he had just noticed her presence. Then a faction of a second later, he narrowed his eyes, searching her face as a flicker of recognition reflected in his depths.
Raising her chin, the Healer stared back, her gaze level and unafraid. They became entangle in a muted battle, and the tension between them increased, becoming heavy and thick.
“’Tis an unexpected surprise to see you here of all places, May,” he said finally, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled quickly. “I had thought you were dead.”
“Nay, not dead,” she replied, flashing her teeth at him. “Just living away from the royal courts and from you, Your Grace.”
“You may yet wish that you were dead,” Roldan said. But a small noise sounded from the bed, and he whipped his head around to glance over at that direction. When the noise subsided, and Lady Edeline continued with her deep, even breathing, he turned back to the Healer. “I want you to heal Edeline,” he said almost snarling. “If she dies,” he shot a cold, dark look at Margery and then at the Healer, “you will both pay with your lives.”
Chapter 30
Derrik walked into the courtyard, his lips curved into a satisfied smile. For the first time, he went against his better judgment and allowed a woman to tempt him. He knew his mission was nowhere near completion, yet he enjoyed this pleasant distraction.
And even though he and Amelie had parted only hours before, her sweet face lingered in his mind. When they had finished making love, he had rolled her over to the side, content with having her in his arms. Never in his life had he felt so happy. He thought she felt the same way, but she suddenly got up and began to search for her clothes.
“Are you leaving already, my lady?” he asked.
“Aye,” she said. “I have stayed here long enough.”
Her eyes rested briefly on his naked body before she flushed and looked away. She quickly pulled on her chemise, and though she fumbled a bit with the kirtle, she managed to don the fitted gown. A frown settled on her face when she slipped on the overtunic.
He hid a smile at seeing her dark expression. Noblewomen had many layers of clothing to wear and they usually had their attendants to help them dress. She looked yearningly at the bedchamber door. There was no way she could leave his room with the buttons of outer tunic opened like this.
“If you would be so kind,” she said stiffly, marching over to him and presenting her back. “I cannot reach the buttons on this gown.”
“I would much rather unbutton your dress.” Reaching over, he trailed his hands down her back, lingering momentarily at the swell of her slender hips, sorely tempted to undress her again.
She shivered.
With much regret, he forced his fingers to fasten the buttons. “There, ‘tis done.”
“Thank you,” she said as she turned around to face him.
“I should thank you,” he smiled. But then her grave expression made him pause. “Is something the matter?”
Amelie bit her lip and then burst out, “No one must learn about what happened here, Derrik.” She glanced at the rumpled bed. “Promise me that you will not reveal this to anyone.”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t have said anything even if you didn’t ask this
of me.”
“I am glad to hear this,” she said, blowing out a breath of relief. “We shall forget that this ever —”
She let out a small gasp when he took her hand. And while looking into her eyes, he pressed it to his lips. But even though she was shocked by his amorous display, he saw her pupils darken with desire. Though she would deny it, he knew she enjoyed his tender ministrations…
The sight of Amelie walking up ahead of him in the courtyard jerked him out of his reverie. Seeing her suddenly appear caused him to want to be near her once again, to hear her melodious voice. And he picked up his pace to catch up to her. He had nearly reached her when he stopped in his tracks. A man, whom he had never seen before, emerged from the other direction. On any other occasion, he would have dismissed this man. He was ordinary looking and was dressed in a nondescript rustic tunic. Slightly taller than average, he possessed a wiry physique, although it was clear, with his lack of weaponry and his pronounced limp, that he wasn’t a fighting man.
But this limp didn’t stop him from blocking Amelie’s path.
Derrik almost smirked at the poor man for his daring; he would experience soon enough the wrath of her anger.
But in the next instant, he could only stare in confusion. Instead of delivering a withering set down, Amelie laughed and gave the stranger a long and intimate embrace.
Derrik’s frown deepened as he watched the other man bend down and kiss her on the cheek. She flushed with pleasure and squeezed the stranger’s arm in response to his touch. Then reaching over, she cupped his face, tilting her pretty countenance up to look at him.
Her happy expression caused Derrik’s mood to darken. Was that how Amelie greeted all men? He knew that she didn’t have a brother, and she had never spoken of any other male relatives… He shook his head in disbelief. He had finally accepted the fact that he cared deeply for her, yet it was clear that she didn’t care for him in a similar fashion. Because why else would she embrace another man like this? And whether she knew it or not, her behavior toward this stranger was the same as if she yanked his heart out of his rib cage, tossed it to the ground, and stomped on it with both feet.
A Knight's Duty (The Knights of Honor Trilogy, Book 2) Page 20
