by Anne Herries
Were all these beautiful things for her? Anton’s gifts had been lavish, and included a wonderful string of huge creamy pearls that wound twice round her throat and fell to her waist. She had not expected to receive so many gifts of silver, costly cloth, and precious glass which came all the way from Venice and was rare and expensive. His family had almost overwhelmed her with their generosity, and the Earl’s neighbours had also brought gifts that were magnificent.
Anton came to her as the toasts were drunk and everyone began to find their places so that the feasting could begin. He led her to the place of honour, sitting at her right hand while the Earl sat at her left. Lady Claire sat to Anton’s right, and his parents were a little further along the high board.
The entertainment began with minstrels singing love songs, and the first dish to be brought to table: carp swimming in a rich wine sauce with tiny onions. After this came the boar’s head, capons, a huge side of beef, pork, venison, wood pigeons and sweetbreads, plums, tarts of quince, custards and almond comfits.
Marietta tasted each dish but ate only a morsel, though she could not resist the marchpane and ate two that were stuck with walnuts and dates. Quantities of wine accompanied the food, also mead and sweetened ale.
She drank a little of the wine but kept a clear head, noticing that Anton did the same. His eyes were constantly on her, throughout the feasting, and she knew that he was waiting for the moment when they could leave.
As the afternoon wore on the guests began to call for dancing. Anton stood up, offering his hand to Marietta. She took it and they walked behind their guests at the high board, descending down the steps at the end to the centre of the hall. As the music began she made her curtsey, and Anton led her through the steps of a stately pavane. For a while they danced alone, but then their guests began to join in, and soon the floor was filled with smiling, happy people.
‘Are you enjoying yourself?’
‘Of course. This is our wedding…’ She gazed up at him, catching her breath as she saw the heat in his eyes. ‘Anton…’
‘I want to sweep you up and—’ He broke off as Lily came up to them, looking distressed. ‘Something troubles you?’
‘Forgive me for disturbing you at your wedding feast, sir. Maddie seems to have taken a fever, and Lady Melford said that I should ask my lady to come…’
‘Surely my grandmother can manage—?’ Anton began, but Marietta smiled and put a finger to his lips.
‘If the child is ill I shall tend her. We shall be together later, my love.’
‘I shall come with you,’ he said, looking anxious now. ‘It is not like Maddie to take a fever.’
They hurried up to the nursery, where they found Lady Melford bending over the little girl’s cot. She was stroking Maddie’s forehead and looking anxious.
‘What ails her?’ Anton said. ‘Is she truly ill?’
‘I thought at first that it was simply a fever, but she does seem very hot and unwell,’ Melissa said. ‘I wanted to ask Marietta what she thought. It isn’t a teething rash—have you seen anything like this before? I do not think it is the pox…’
‘Let me see. I have treated the pox before…’ Marietta bent over the child, stroking her damp hair back from her forehead. She examined her arms and her neck and face, and then straightened up. ‘I do not believe it is the pox. Maddie was taken into the garden earlier this morning. I think she has touched something that has brought out this rash. She may have eaten something she ought not. I can make a mixture to help with the fever, and a lotion to spread on her arms and legs. Stay here with her and I shall go down to the stillroom…’ She smiled at Anton. ‘Stay and comfort her, my love. Talk to her, for your presence may calm her…’
He nodded. ‘Yes, I will stay. Though I think you are the one she needs. I believe she already thinks of you as her mother…’
Reaching the stillroom, Marietta set to work with a will. She took down various jars as she sought the herbs she needed. Maddie was not in danger but she was undoubtedly feeling ill, for she had a nasty rash and might have eaten berries that had made her unwell.
‘I wonder if I should make her sick or simply ease her…’
Marietta did not realise that she had spoken out loud until she heard a sound behind her and turned. Her eyes widened in shock and fear as she saw the man watching her. Miguel was looking at her in such a way that her blood ran cold. She was not imagining it this time! He did hate her.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, her hand going to her throat as she sensed his evil intent. ‘We thought you had returned to Spain. You tried to kill Anton…’
‘May his soul rot in hell! You saved his life with your potions and your spells, witch—but I shall kill you, and then him.’
Marietta stared at him. ‘Why do you hate me so? Why do you hate Anton? What have we done to you?’
‘You took away his guilt and his pain. He was supposed to suffer for what he did to her…my Isabella. I saw her lying there, all the life gone from her. Her eyes looked at me…such accusing eyes…’
‘Anton told me what happened. He merely asked her for the truth that day. She was his wife, and he was afraid that she had betrayed him with another…was it you…?’ Marietta saw his face twist with agony. ‘Yes—she was carrying your child. But you wanted more, didn’t you? You wanted her to run away with you, and she would not, so…’ A gasp broke from her. ‘You were there when she died…What did you do, Miguel? What did you do to her?’
‘I loved her. She was always mine. He stole her from me…’ Miguel’s eyes glittered as he moved closer to Marietta. ‘I was her friend, and then her lover. She came to me when she was unhappy and told me she did not love him. We made love, and she conceived. She was terrified that he would know the child was not his because she had not slept with him, so she went to him and asked him to love her. I tried to make her understand that it was me she loved, to persuade her to flee with me…’ His hand was shaking and she saw beads of sweat on his brow. ‘It was his fault, not mine. He was her murderer, not I…’
‘You?’ Marietta saw the truth in his eyes. ‘What did you do to her that day, Miguel? She ran from Anton because he was angry. But she didn’t fall, and she didn’t take her own life…You pushed her down those steps. It was you that killed her, not her husband.’
‘I never meant to kill her,’ Miguel said, and he was trembling. ‘She told me that her life was over, that she must go into a convent to atone for her sin. She did not enjoy marriage and felt that she had failed as a woman. Even when she lay in my arms she was afraid of giving herself. That day she was weeping, and I tried to comfort her. I tried to take her in my arms but she pushed me away, and then…she just fell…’
‘You grabbed her and she pulled away, losing her balance…and you watched her fall. You could not save her, and instead of blaming yourself you blamed Anton…’
‘It was his fault! She was mine. He stole her from me…’ Miguel cried, and then made a move to grab Marietta. ‘He took my love from me and I shall take his from him. Before he dies he will learn what it is like to lose everything.’
Marietta backed away from him, her eyes on his face. ‘You cannot bring her back. Vengeance is empty. You will still be guilty of her murder.’
‘Be quiet, witch! I intend to have my way—but first I will taste you. You will have my kiss on your lips when you die, feel the humiliation of—’
He broke off as Marietta picked up the sharp knife she had been using to peel roots and strip bark from a branch of willow. She held it in her right hand.
‘Come near me and you will feel this blade in your flesh,’ she said, and made a threatening stabbing movement. ‘The blade has been used to squash the berries of deadly nightshade. If it enters your flesh you will surely die…’
‘Witch! They were right to name you murderess. You should burn in hell for what you have done…’
‘I did not harm anyone. What little skill I have is used for good, not harm. You are the murde
rer. You killed Isabella by knocking her off balance so that she fell down the steps…’
‘Damn you!’ Miguel drew his sword, advancing on her menacingly. ‘I shall not drink at your poisoned well. It is enough to see you dead…’
‘Stay away from me!’ Marietta screamed as he lunged at her with his sword, jumping back, retreating to the other side of the bench where she had been working. He was between her and the door. She could only draw him on and hope to get past him as he followed. ‘Your soul is doomed to burn in hell. You cannot wash away your stain by taking my life…’
‘If I burn in hell so be it—but you will be there first!’
Miguel lunged at her again. She screamed and jumped back once more. If she could just get past him and make a dash for the door…
He had seen her intention, and moved back to cut off her flight. He laughed, his eyes glittering with hate.
‘You cannot escape. Your knife is of no use against my sword—’
‘But my sword will match yours,’ a voice rang out, and Miguel swirled round to face his new adversary. ‘It seems that you are too much a coward to face me. You prey on defenceless women, and you make sure that I am not near. Are you a coward, or will you fight me?’
‘He killed Isabella. He caused her fall, not you…’ Marietta cried.
Anton gave no sign that he had heard her. His eyes were fixed on Miguel. Suddenly the Spaniard lunged at him with his sword. Anton sidestepped, drawing him on further into the room.
‘Run, Marietta—rouse the house…’
Marietta ran towards the door. Opening it, she screamed for help, but she did not leave. Her eyes were glued to the men who were joined in battle. The chilling sound of steel on steel was echoing through the room. She could see at once that they were evenly matched, for Miguel was also a skilled swordsman, and they were of much the same weight, though Anton was a little taller.
Marietta’s heart was in her mouth as the fight swayed one way and then the other. Anton drew the first blood, his sword-tip catching Miguel’s left arm, but then Miguel struck back, his sword sliding across Anton’s shoulder but failing to pierce his heavy leather jerkin. He swore and slashed wildly, catching Anton’s arm with the tip, making the blood run. Marietta screamed again.
Anton parried, bringing his sword round with a movement that swept Miguel’s blade from his hand. Miguel’s eyes were wide with fear as he looked at Anton. For a moment Anton hesitated, then lowered the blade of his weapon.
‘I shall not kill you, for it would be to take foul advantage,’ he said. ‘You will be taken into custody and tried for attempted murder—and may God take pity on your soul.’
Anton turned towards Marietta, his eyes seeking hers. ‘Are you hurt, my love?’
As Anton turned his head, Miguel swiftly bent and retrieved his sword with his left hand. Even as he thrust it at Anton’s back, Marietta threw the knife. It pierced Miguel’s neck and he fell to the ground, a thick crimson tide bubbling as he tried to speak and failed.
Anton looked down at his fallen enemy and frowned.
‘Have I killed him?’ Marietta asked, and crossed herself. ‘God forgive me! I have murdered him…’
‘What nonsense is this?’ Anton tipped her chin, gazing down into her tear-drenched eyes. ‘Do not cry, my love. You have been brave and strong. You have done no wrong to any being—had you not thrown the knife, he would have murdered me.’
She swayed against him, her senses swimming as the terror of the ordeal came over her. Anton swept her up in his arms, the watching servants parting as he walked towards them, leaving the way clear for him to carry her upstairs to the chamber they were to share that night.
He lay her down on the bed and stood watching her as the colour slowly came back to her cheeks.
‘You have done too much,’ he said, in a harsh voice that hid his anxiety. ‘You nursed me for weeks and then this…’
Marietta pushed herself up against the pillows as her head cleared. ‘No, I have not exhausted myself,’ she said, and smiled at him. ‘It was just so…overwhelming. He wanted to kill me.’
‘And would have done so had I not come in time.’ Anton looked grim. ‘It is little wonder that you felt dizzy just now…’
‘It was just for a moment. I shall be better now.’ She swung her legs over the bed. ‘Your arm is bleeding, Anton. Let me bind it for you.’
‘It is but a scratch. I can do it myself. I have had worse and survived it without nursing. Stay where you are, Marietta, and rest.’
‘I do not need to rest, and Maddie needs me…’ She bit her lip as he prepared to leave the room. ‘Will you not stay with me?’
‘My grandmother will care for the child. Rest for a few hours or you will make yourself ill,’ Anton told her. ‘I need to rest myself. I shall see you later…’
Marietta lay back against the pillows as he went out, then she shook her head, refusing to give way to tears. She was tired, and she would sleep later, but if Anton did not wish for her company she would go to the nursery and see if Maddie responded to the potions she had made.
‘I came to take my leave of you,’ Lady Catherine said the next afternoon. ‘My husband hath business that will not keep. I hope that Anton will bring you to us soon. I do not know where you plan to settle now that your enemy is dead.’
‘Miguel is dead…?’ Marietta swayed and gave a little moan, sinking down onto a padded stool. ‘Anton would have spared him. Forgive me, I am feeling a little faint. Mayhap Anton is right and I am ill…’
Catherine looked at her for a moment, her eyes narrowed in thought. ‘Is there any chance that you might be with child?’
‘With child?’ Marietta stared at her. ‘It is possible…’ She blushed as she remembered the night she had given herself to Anton as they travelled to London. ‘I had not thought…one night…is it possible?’ It had taken years of trying before she had been able to give her husband a son.
Catherine laughed. ‘You were married to a man much older, perhaps an invalid?’ Marietta nodded her head, looking bemused. ‘Anton is young and strong. If you lay with him before your wedding then there is every possibility that you carry his child.’
‘I believed that I might die in prison, or at the rope’s end,’ Marietta said, her cheeks hot. ‘You will think me wanton…’
‘I was young and hot-blooded once,’ Catherine told her with a smile. ‘I was forced to marry a man I was not sure loved me. If he had made love to me before we were wed I might not have suffered so much doubt or wept as many tears.’
‘Oh…’ Marietta laughed. ‘I believe you are right concerning my condition, for now I think of it I have not seen my courses since before that time. I had not noticed, for there has been no time to think of myself.’
‘I am no physician, but if you need confirmation ask my mother. She will know if you are with child.’
‘I do not think I need to ask. I had not considered it, but now…’ Marietta laughed. ‘I am not sure what Anton will think of my news…’
‘If I know anything of my son he will be delighted. He has a daughter he loves, but I am certain he longs for a son.’
‘Thank you…’ Marietta was suddenly glowing. She put her hands on her stomach. ‘Our child…Yes, perhaps it will be a son…’
‘You will come to us when you can?’
‘Of course.’ Marietta moved to kiss her cheek. ‘I have no idea what Anton plans for the future. We have had little time to talk…’
‘You must ask him when he comes to you—and tell him your news. I dare say the news that he is to become a father will sharpen his thoughts. It would please his father if he were to buy an estate that borders ours and has recently been offered for sale.’
‘It would be pleasant to have you as neighbours, but Anton must decide…’
After Lady Catherine had gone, Marietta went to sit on the bed, piling the pillows up behind her. She was not tired, but she wanted to relax and think. She had already visited Maddie that day, and
knew that the girl was recovering well. There was no need to be anxious for her. All Marietta needed to do now was think of the future.
She was carrying Anton’s child! It was a blessing from God, and the shadows that had hung over her melted away as she realised how fortunate she was. She slipped back against the pillows and closed her eyes.
When Anton entered the bedchamber an hour later, he found Marietta sleeping. She looked so lovely! He stood watching her, resisting the temptation to touch her. If she woke he would want to make love to her, and it was obvious that she was still tired. When she had almost fainted in his arms he had been terrified that she was ill; the fear of losing her had made him harsh. He had spoken sharply and it would not do. He must learn to speak softly to his beautiful wife, because he did not wish to see shadows in her eyes.
He would leave her to sleep. They were due to leave the next morning. He had agreed to escort his grandmother back to Melford, and stay with her and his grandfather for a while.
Anton had been told of two estates that might suit him. One was close to his father’s house, the other a little closer to Melford but with more land. He wanted to see both manors for himself before he came to a decision.
Marietta might prefer to return to France. Anton frowned as he turned away. He could not blame her if she wanted to claim her son’s inheritance. Unless a strong man was put in charge of the castle, it would fall into neglect and ruin.
Had Miguel not proved to be the traitor he undoubtedly was, Anton might have trusted him to hold the castle. Without someone who could be trusted not to try to steal the manor from the young Comte de Montcrief it might be better to sell it—but would Marietta agree?
‘Anton…’ Marietta’s sleepy voice stopped him as his hand moved towards the door latch. ‘Are you going? Why did you not wake me?’