by Mary Nichols
‘Better late than never,’ he said, grinning. ‘There’s a lighter on the tideway needs turning round and taking back to Ely.’
‘You caught them, my lord?’ This was Johnson, pulling the curricle to a stop outside the tavern.
‘Yes. Five of them. Dead as mutton, I’m afraid. Two lying down by the sluice-gates, the others on board.’ He turned to Silas. ‘Take Johnson and Marcus with you and take them to the Bishop’s gaol. See if they can be identified. Then back to Winterford Manor. I’ll take my lady in the curricle.’
Thus Margaret and Roland returned to Winterford, leading a cavalcade of villagers, all in high spirits and pleased to have their lord back among them, pleased too to see her ladyship looking so happy. She sat beside her husband, her hand tucked into his arm and her head on his shoulder, content to let the future take care of itself. Faith, Mistress Henser had said. Was hers strong enough? She would soon know.
Margaret’s son was born on Christmas Day, just as the sky across the fen was streaked with the grey light of a new dawn. He weighed seven and a half pounds and was perfect in every detail. Roland, who had been pacing up and down the corridor outside Margaret’s bedchamber most of the night, was allowed in at last, and dashed to kneel at his wife’s side and take her hand in his. ‘My dearest…’ He could hardly speak for the emotions which assailed him. ‘Are you…?’
‘Perfectly well,’ she said, lifting his hand to put it to her cheek. ‘Nothing can touch us now.’
‘No, of course not.’
She smiled, detecting the slight note of doubt in his voice. ‘This is Christmas Day, Roland, the birthday of Our Lord; how can anyone born on such a day be anything but blessed? Little Roland will grow into a fine man, just like his father. Can you doubt that?’
‘And you?’
‘I too am blessed.’ She stopped and laughed softly. ‘Roland, do you know what else has come to pass?’
He looked mystified, then broke into a grin, then threw back his head and laughed. ‘We have been married over a year—four days over the year.’ He bent his head and kissed her longingly. ‘We have nothing to be afraid of.’
‘Perhaps we never did have,’ she said. ‘Love cast its spell on the day we met and that is stronger than any witch’s curse.’
‘I wish I had understood that,’ he said, bending over and kissing her tenderly. ‘Can you forgive me?’
‘Oh, Roland, do not blame yourself. It is history. Let’s not delve into it.’
‘Mistress Henser said I had to go away in order to come back; I see what she meant now.’
He was still sitting by her bed, with his hand in hers, when Charles and Kate arrived in a flurry of excitement, bringing baby George and a retinue of servants, to spend Christmas and the New Year at Winterford. It was going to be a joyful time.
Years later, when Margaret’s growing family meant it was necessary to open up the east wing and make it habitable again, the old chest containing the family archives was re-discovered, but this time there was no threat attached to it and Margaret spent several days happily sorting the contents, knowing they could no longer trouble her. One sheet of paper attracted her attention. It was right at the bottom of the chest and yellowing with age, but parts of it were still readable.
… she will not have him long. Before the year is out, she will be dead. Mark my words well. The Pargeters will not be allowed to forget this betrayal. I, Anne Capitain, will not rest in this life, or after it. My spirit will not sleep until the Capitains once again rule Winterford Manor…
This was what everyone had been so afraid of. This was Anne Capitain’s curse in her own words. It was the last sentence which had worried old Lady Pargeter most; she could not bear to think of the Pargeters losing their home and their land to the Capitains. Margaret smiled slowly as she replaced the paper in the bottom of the chest. How easy it was to misinterpret predictions! When the Pargeters and the Capitains became united, a Capitain would rule Winterford. Her son. Roland’s heir. There never had been anything to fear. ‘Rest in peace, Anne,’ she whispered. ‘All is well.’
ISBN: 978-1-474-03566-8
A DANGEROUS UNDERTAKING
© 1995 Mary Nichols
Published in Great Britain 2015
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited
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