So Worthy My Love

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  Elise’s lips lifted in a vague smile, but no warmth softened her eyes as she dug in the purse that hung from her belt. Producing her father’s ring, she held it forth for Cassandra to see it clearly. “Do you recognize this?” She waited until the woman nodded hesitantly and then began a game that she was sure would reveal just what her aunt knew about her father’s abduction. “Then you must remember that my father was never seen without it?” Again a slight inclination of the fair head prompted Elise to continue. “I offer this ring as evidence that I have knowledge of his whereabouts.

  “My father is alive!” she declared emphatically and saw a look of consternation cross the beautiful, but aging, face of her aunt. The wary, confused expression gave evidence of Cassandra’s innocence, at least in this matter of kidnapping. “And you can rest assured that he will not abide this appropriation of his properties by either you or your sons. Therefore, I’d suggest that you find other quarters to which you and your kin can hie to . . . as soon as possible.”

  “This is some trick of hers!” Forsworth declared, striding forward to glare at Elise. He had not forgiven her for the clubbing she had once given him, nor had he salved the wounds of his egotistical pride. “She is lying! Otherwise, Uncle Ramsey would be here with her!”

  Elise challenged him with a barely tolerant smile. “You always were a bit slow-witted, Forsworth. Why do you not wait for my father to arrive? I’m sure he will give you the thrashing you deserve.”

  His dark eyes snapped with sparks of rage. “You lying slut! You go off to some hinterland and spread yourself for the pleasure of a traitor.” He ignored the warning signs of ire chilling the blue eyes and pressed on like a raving fool. “You always wanted a man with a title. Now you’ve outdone yourself. What ho! A traitorous lord of the realm. A marquess, no less!” His sneer was filled with contempt. “By now, you’re probably carrying his bastard whelp!”

  The slap resounded in the hall, and for a brief moment Forsworth saw only a blurred haze before his eyes. Shaking his head, he cleared his stunned senses and, in a raging temper, hauled back an arm as he advanced upon the girl. Of a sudden he found himself nose to nose with Spence, who had imposed his bulk between the two of them.

  “Ye’ll not touch her.” The man calmly denied the possibility. “Else ye’ll regret it.”

  “You dare threaten me!” Forsworth roared, incensed that a common servant would dare interfere. “Get out of my way!”

  Spence shook his head. He had been given orders by Lord Seymour to see to the care of his lady, and that was what he intended till his last breath be drawn. “Me master said though it meant me life I was ta keep the mistress safe. An’ ye’ll not harm her whilst I’m at her side.”

  “Who has set you to such foolishness?” Forsworth demanded, backing away a step as Spence advanced a like measure. The taller man thumped his chest, causing him to stumble back even further, and in the face of such obstinate defiance, Forsworth lost some of his show of bravado. “Who would set a commoner against a lord?”

  “Lord? Ha!” Elise scoffed, stepping forward again to face her cousin. She was unable to resist calling him down for his self-exaggerated importance. “If you’re a lord, then I’m the Queen’s cousin!”

  “You . . . !” Forsworth snarled, and jabbed a finger at her as he threatened, “You will get what you deserve!”

  “Oh, you’re so brave with women!” she mimed, copying Cassandra’s overly sweet tone, but her sneer belied the compliment. Elise saw the dark eyes narrow and responded to their piercing glare with an unleashed fury of her own. “Well, I, for one, will have no more of your abuse! Do you hear? No more torture! No more starving! No more beatings! This is my father’s house, and I want you out of it! Now!”

  Again Forsworth snatched back his fist and tried to deliver it full into her face, but much to his astonishment, he found his wrist seized by a man whose strength far exceeded his. It was not enough that he was so rudely confronted by a servant, but a step behind the tall one, the fat one pressed forward to make his presence felt.

  “Me mistress says ye’re ta go now, so ye’d best be on yer way,” Spence instructed the arrogant scamp. He raised his gaze as Forsworth’s brothers came scurrying across the hall and immediately accepted the pistol Fitch shoved toward him. That one had had the presence of mind before leaving the ship to hide two such weapons beneath his coat . . . just in case there was trouble. It came sooner than they had expected. Spence deemed it a most appropriate time to make use of whatever help was at hand to dissuade the two, and since a pistol was most effective in deciding the outcome of this argument, he brought up the sights to mark the three brothers. “I’ll make a hole in the first one o’ ye what takes a step forward,” he warned them gruffly. “An’ I’ve little care who it be.”

  Cassandra tried to approach the pair, but Fitch was having no more of her than her sons. The bore of his pistol came around to face her. “Kindly keep yer distance, milady,” he bade pleasantly. “I’d hate ta bloody me mistress’s carpets.”

  “This is an outrage!” Cassandra strangled out in furious tones. She whirled around to face Elise. “I’m your aunt! Will you let these men threaten me?”

  A bland smile touched the lovely mouth. “I seem to remember a time when you gave your sons leave to torment me. You’re no blood kin to me, and if you were, I would disavow any knowledge of it. I give these men authority to do what they must to protect me from the likes of you and your sons. I’ve no ken how you seduced my uncle into marrying you, but ‘tis obvious his health is now in a serious state . . . and since you make no attempt to hide your purpose, I can only believe the worst. Long ago, when I was young, I overhead the servants whispering about some strange happenings. One woman, well in her years and considered daft, rambled on incessantly about seeing you use poison on my mother and then on your husband.” Elise saw her aunt start in surprise and a look of fear take hold of her features. “Now it seems that Edward is suffering sorely from your attentions. For what you’ve done, I’ll see you taken before the magistrates of this land and tried for murder.”

  Cassandra drew herself up with shaky pride. “I’ll not stay in this house a moment longer and be accused of such horrible deeds! ‘Tis an offense I’ll not stand.”

  “Aye! You’d best run!” Elise taunted, experiencing some relief at the idea. “Run for your life, for I will set the hounds on your heels, and as they take the scent of blood from a wounded hind and drive her to ground, so you will be cornered and brought down like a beast of the wild. Go! Get out of here!”

  In a stunned daze Cassandra stumbled around and, with a weak jerk of her head, bade her sons make haste to follow. She had lost the haughtiness of the earlier moments and waxed eager to flee this venging, threatening minx who had gained from some source an unshakable resolve and now was proving a fierce and dangerous foe.

  There was a fuss and furor as the Radborne family threw their belongings into chests and left the premises by whatever means available. In their absence the house grew still, as if it had taken a deep breath and expelled an invasive evil from its nooks and crannies. The servants wandered back to properly greet their mistress and in a spirit of relief hurried to prepare her chambers and unpack her belongings.

  Exhausted beyond measure and with her emotions well spent, Elise could not find the energy to go to the hall and eat. She made her way to her chambers, where she slumped wearily upon the bed. Though Clara brought her a tray of food and helped her undress, she found no more than a few murmured words to speak ere she heaved a sigh and slipped into the comfort of the bed. The candles were snuffed, and for a time she watched the firelight from the hearth flicker across the ceiling, then her eyelids drooped as she drifted through a vague awareness. Dreams of Maxim invaded her slumber and cradled her with soothing comfort.

  It was much later, sometime during the early hours of morning, when Elise came slowly awake again. For a time she lay listening, wondering what had intruded into her sleep, but nothing stirre
d, and all was silent and still within the manor. Her curiosity was little appeased, for she could find no cause for having been awakened.

  Slipping on her dressing gown, Elise left her chambers and wandered down the hall to the rooms which Arabella had chosen for herself. A light rap on the door brought no response, and Elise entered, anxious to see if her cousin had returned and was just asleep. Shafts of moonlight streamed in through the lace panels draped over the windows, illumining a floor strewn with a veritable trail of discarded clothes. A fine satin gown lay near the gallery door, followed by petticoats and farthingale a short space away. Drawers of white fustian and stockings of silk were near the bed. The covers of that piece were drawn back and badly mussed, and each of the two pillows bore an impression, rousing Elise to embrace a strong suspicion that whoever had occupied the bed had not been entirely alone.

  A prickling remembrance swept over Elise, and she quelled a feeling of apprehension as she faced the gloomy room. Though it was a different house and many months later, she was impressed by the similarities of that moment from her past. Once before she had gone to Arabella’s room, expecting to find her cousin, and she had not been there. This time no culprits sprang from the shadows to seize her, yet there was something hauntingly reminiscent about her cousin’s absence, except now the rumpled bed hinted of a possible visitor.

  Bemused, Elise wandered back to her bedchamber and was about to doff her robe when a soft whinny made her pause. She fought a rush of apprehension as she ran to the gallery door. It would not be unlike Forsworth and his brothers to come back and do harm to those in the house. Carefully she pushed open the portal and slipped out onto the veranda. Keeping to the shadows, she moved silently along the gallery until the moon came out from behind a cloud, then she halted with her breath frozen in her throat. There, in the courtyard below, cast in a soft lunar glow, stood Arabella wearing naught but a light robe of thin transparency. Seated on a horse beside her was a fully garbed man. The hood of his cloak hid his features and draped his shoulders. As Elise watched, the shadowy form leaned down to meet the reaching embrace of the woman, and for a long moment the couple kissed. When the man finally straightened, he swept the hem of his cloak upward across his chest and braced a fist on his thigh, causing a sickening dread to invade Elise’s chest. The man’s movements reminded her only too well of the flamboyant mannerisms of Forsworth Radborne. Helplessly she watched as the man reached down a hand to bestow a soft caress along Arabella’s cheek, then he nudged the steed with his heels and was gone with a clatter of hooves.

  Cautiously Elise pressed back into the enveloping darkness as Arabella turned and approached the stairs. Fearful of moving lest her presence be discovered, Elise held her place, hardly daring to breathe as her cousin ascended the stairs. Only when the chamber door had been closed behind Arabella did Elise deem it safe to release a deep sigh of relief.

  Elise’s amazement found no end when Arabella came down to break the fast the next morning and portrayed herself as a grieving widow. Elise would not have denied the fact that her cousin looked the part, for the gray eyes were red, rimmed with dark circles, and her cheeks pale and drawn. Still, after witnessing the scene in the courtyard, Elise could only wonder why Arabella would even make such a pretense. She was much bemused when the woman fell upon her shoulder, and there she sobbed and lamented the loss of Reland.

  “Did I not tell you that I was cursed?” Arabella gulped through her tears. “I tell you I’m beset by woe.” She was quickly overtaken by a spasm of uncontrollable weeping.

  Bemused, Elise patted the woman’s back, not knowing how to react. “I understand Reland was out riding,” she murmured quietly. “Was he alone?”

  Arabella sniffed and drew back to dab a handkerchief to her slim nose. “We had gone out riding together, but he raced off, as he was wont to do, and I was left to find my own way home.”

  “Where did this happen?”

  “Near Bradbury,” the woman choked.

  “A month ago?”

  Arabella nodded hesitantly and pressed a pale hand over her bosom as her face threatened to crumple again. Elise’s attention was drawn almost hypnotically to the necklace she was wearing, for she could not mistake it. Noticing where her gaze was directed, Arabella sniffed as she doffed the bejeweled piece. “It reminded me so much of you, Elise, I had to wear it.” She laid it about the younger cousin’s neck as she continued to sniff and cry. “When I returned to my chambers the night of my wedding, I found the strands broken and the pearls scattered across the floor. I nearly died when I realized you’d been abducted. I didn’t know if you were alive or dead, so I had the necklace repaired, and I’ve worn it as a remembrance of you ever since.”

  “Thank you for having it repaired.”

  The woman dissolved into tears again, and her weeping continued on to such length, Elise despaired of being able to consume the morning fare without having it sour her stomach. The lamentations were beginning to wear heavily on her, and she longed to be alone again where she could calm herself.

  Arabella wiped away the wetness that flowed down her cheeks and assumed a gallantly suffering mien as she eyed the younger woman surreptitiously. “How horrible it must have been for you. Taken by force like that. Everyone of course is wondering what happened.”

  “Actually, it was all rather wonderful . . . and quite romantic,” Elise assured her with a poignant smile lifting the corners of her lips.

  Arabella suffered a sharp pang as she noticed the distant look in the blue eyes. It seemed the girl was yearning for a lost love. “I’ve been wondering just who it was Maxim’s men were after . . . and since you were taken from my rooms, I can only believe they made a mistake when they took you. Is that true?”

  Elise was aware the woman waited for her answer with an eagerness that belied her deep grief, and with a small nod, she gave the reply that was expected. “His men were responsible for the mistake.”

  “I knew it, of course. Maxim was always so desperately in love with me, I did not doubt that he came back to fetch me. I suppose he was terribly disappointed when he found out that a mere girl had been taken instead of his own truly beloved.” Arabella heaved a sigh as if sharing his imagined hurt. “Knowing him as well as I do, I think he was probably enraged.”

  Unable to deny the woman’s statements, Elise averted her face to hide a hurt she could not confess. Perhaps she was too sensitive to the truth, but she was almost persuaded by the enthusiasm Arabella portrayed that the woman derived some bolstering of ego from the idea that it was she whom Maxim had set out to capture.

  “No doubt Maxim has plans to return to make amends to me.” The gray eyes traced the delicate, downcast profile of the other. “Did he mention when he would be coming back?”

  “Maxim has been condemned a traitor,” Elise reminded her cousin. “If he returns, he still has to face the threat of his execution unless the Queen pardons him.”

  “And if such a thing happens,” Arabella murmured with a smile of anticipation, “I’ll accept his offer of marriage.”

  Elise opened her mouth to reply, intending to tell all, but she slowly closed it again as she found herself assailed by uncertainty. Her bruised pride refused to lay claim to Maxim without first being assured that it was what he wanted. Once he returned to England and saw Arabella again, perhaps he might be reminded of his love for her and have cause to resent the vows he had made in Lubeck.

  “If Maxim is alive, ‘tis his plan to return to England,” Elise informed the woman in a small voice.

  Arabella pressed a trembling hand to her throat. “Is he in danger?”

  “When has he not been in danger?” Elise countered.

  “Tell me he is safe!” Arabella demanded in a breathless whisper. “He must be safe!”

  Elise smiled sadly. “I cannot assure you of anything, Arabella, least of all his safety.”

  Chapter 28

  WHITEHALL PALACE was a formidable structure with its thousand or so rooms, but the
massive gardens, orchards, tennis courts, and tiltyard built during the reign of the late king were equally resplendent amid the color of the budding spring blossoms. Elise allowed herself a moment to enjoy the heady fragrance of the flowers as she climbed the stairs from the river, but it was not a day when she could savor anything for too long. Her audience with the Queen was only moments away, and though she struggled to attain a mood of tranquillity, the turmoil roiling within her had naught to do with contentment and peace. She had framed her words a thousand or more times in her mind, for she feared the moments ahead would see her spilling them in reckless disorder from her tongue.

  She had taken some care to dress, for it was secretly rumored that Elizabeth loathed any woman who sported better finery than she. Thus she had donned a plain black velvet gown with a white lace ruff and allowed her only adornment to be the strands of pearls with their ruby-encrusted clasp. A pert attifet was worn over her carefully dressed hair, giving her a stylish, but somber, mien.

  Nearly a week had passed since she had first requested an audience with the royal sovereign, and she was in a state of anxious fretting, wondering where Maxim was, while at the same time far too aware of where Nicholas was being kept.

  She was escorted down long hallways, through arched doorways nearly twice as tall as she, and finally into an antechamber where she was to await her summons to the Queen’s private chambers. Lord Burghley, Elizabeth’s principal minister, came to inquire as to the nature of her visit, and Elise, hardly able to subdue the quiver in her voice, stated her cause. Satisfied with her answer, the man left her, and a short time later a lady-in-waiting came to fetch her. Elise composed herself as she was ushered into the presence of the sovereign monarch. She sank into a deep curtsey as the attendants were excused with a regal gesture, all except for the ancient Blanche Parry whose loyal service to the noble person of the Queen had begun when Elizabeth was but a babe.