HOLY POISON: Boxed Set: The Complete Series 1-6

by Margaret Brazear

  “Why?” Once again she wanted to grab back the word. Not very polite, given the circumstances. But he laughed.

  “Why not?” He replied. “Come. You look cold and I know where we can get a hot drink and a warm fire.”

  He held out his hand which she took and allowed him to lead her across the frost covered meadow toward his house. She wondered briefly if she should perhaps get word to Julia as to her whereabouts, but something told her that her sister would not approve. She also knew perfectly well that to be going off with a man who was not a relative, without a chaperone, was not the behaviour one expected of a lady. It did not occur to her, however, to worry about what the Earl might think of her for this indiscretion, she just knew it was a relief to be able to not care.

  Once inside and warming up with mulled wine before a roaring fire, seated on rich cushions on oak settles such as she had never seen before, she was able to remove her cloak. She could not help but cast her eyes greedily over the chamber, over the rich tapestries and ancient paintings, the oak panelling and carved ceilings. There were even rugs from the Far East covering the stone floors. At least she assumed they were from the East since she had never seen anything like it in England before. She had heard somewhere that fine rugs were made in the far eastern countries which had only been found in the last century or two. Such things were too expensive for most people and seeing them here merely confirmed her suspicion that this man was incredibly wealthy, even wealthier than her father, perhaps even wealthier than the King himself. It was said that King Henry acquired Hampton Court from Cardinal Wolsey when he learned that the Cardinal was richer than he.

  She let her glance slide towards her companion, appreciating his good looks and his confident manner, his broad shoulders and his muscular chest. She had never met anyone quite like him before, but then she had never met a nobleman before. For the first time in her life, she regretted who she was, regretted she had no right to be attracted to this man, even though she was.

  “The King is not expected to live much longer,” Richard said suddenly. “What do you think of that?”

  She turned to look at him, quite startled at the way he had suddenly dropped this treacherous statement into the silence of the room.

  “To speak of the death of the King is treason, My Lord,” she replied quickly, lest she be accused of complying with such sentiments. “Is this some kind of trap you have led me into?”

  “Not at all. I got the impression you speak whatever thoughts come into your mind and I believed it would be a topic of interest to us both. Forgive me if I am mistaken.”

  She was still unsure of how best to reply. She hardly knew this man and he was close to the court, and while she in no way thought herself important enough to entrap with a false question, she felt it was difficult to trust such a conversation coming from a stranger.

  “You are not mistaken,” she said at last. “I am just surprised, that is all. You know nothing about me. How do you know I will not betray you?”

  He shrugged and smiled mischievously. “I will simply deny all knowledge of it, my dear. It is not difficult to believe that anybody would take my word over yours. Or is it?”

  “You are probably right,” she replied carefully. “What is your own opinion of the King’s health?”

  “I think it will be a good thing when the corrupt Lord Protector is ousted from his position. He has no love for the country or the people, but seeks only power.”

  “But if the King should die young, the throne will go to his cousin. The Duke will still be Lord Protector; I heard he will marry his son to the Lady Jane Grey.”

  “Jane Grey will never be queen,” he replied harshly. “She has no real claim to the throne. The Scottish queen has a greater claim but the people would never accept her either. Mary Tudor will succeed, just as her father willed it.”

  “Mary?” She shuddered. “I hope you are wrong, Sir. She will turn England back to Rome and persecute those true to the Protestant faith. I may be young, but I have learned about the way Protestants were treated before King Henry broke with Rome, and even after. I believe Mary is a fanatic who refuses to give up the Mass, despite it being outlawed.”

  “And her brother allows it, so long as it is performed in private. Why do you suppose that is?”

  She did not know enough about the relationship between the King and his half sister to converse on the subject and she was still afraid of saying too much. This conversation was rapidly following a dangerous path and she felt it would be a good thing to change the subject.

  “Is your lady wife here with you?” She asked, not knowing what else to say to change the course of the conversation.

  He smiled.

  “What makes you think I have a lady wife?”

  “I suppose I just assumed that it would be the case.”

  She got up and moved toward the window, looking out at the hundreds of acres of fields and meadows stretching as far as the eye could see. There were little cottages and farmhouses dotted about here and there, all with smoke coming from roofs. Some even had proper chimneys, an expense reserved for the wealthy. If they were part of Lord Summerville’s estate, then he must be responsible for installing them, for caring for his tenants’ comfort. She brought her mind back to the conversation about his wife. “Am I wrong?” She asked.

  “You are indeed. I have no wife, a situation which must be remedied very soon. I am an only child and I need an heir.” She turned to look at him, surprised once more by this intimate choice of topic, and her heart leapt for a second with the hope his words promised. His next words dispelled that hope. “I am told that you will soon be married yourself.”

  She laughed bitterly.

  “That is what I am told as well, My Lord,” she replied cynically. “I am just not at all sure to whom my father intends to sell me.”

  “An odd way of putting it.”

  “Not at all. He wants a titled gentleman to give him a lift up the social ladder. He is wealthy; an impoverished nobleman would likely be interested, just as Sir Geoffrey bought my sister with his title. It is a barbaric system and not one with which I would ever willingly comply.”

  “But only the lowest classes are given the privilege of being able to marry for love, Mistress. You and I must look upon the procedure as a business arrangement, something which will benefit both parties.”

  “I have never heard it put like that before,” she replied wistfully. “Perhaps the lower classes have the advantage over us.”

  “Perhaps. Just what sort of man would suit you, madam?” He asked playfully.

  She looked about, returning his mischievous grin as she swept the space around her with her arms.

  “This,” she replied. “The owner of all this would suit nicely.” She paused and laughed at her own folly. “But the owner of all this would not be in need of my dowry.”

  She collected her cloak from where it lay upon the settle, warming beside the fire.

  “I must go,” she said quickly. “Julia will be wondering where I am and I do not wish to outstay my welcome.” He helped her with her cloak, then took her chin in his hand and lifted her face to his. As she looked into his eyes she felt a sudden concern for his safety, though why she did not know. She hardly knew him. “My Lord,” she said. “You should have a care. I would hate to see your head on a spike on London Bridge.”

  “It will never happen. Mary will be Queen and when she is, all us Catholics will be able to show our faces again without having to tread carefully and curb our tongues.”

  She caught her breath and could only stare in disbelief. Us Catholics, he had said. He was playing a very dangerous game.

  “You are a Catholic?”

  He nodded. “You will not give me away, will you?”

  “Why are you so sure? You know nothing of me, nothing. How can you be so sure I will not betray you?”

  It was a few minutes before he replied, and when he did he was smiling like a man who knows he has won the day.
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  “Because I am the owner of all this,” he indicated the room. “You would not want to lose out on that, for the sake of a principle, now would you?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  How she found her way back to Winterton House would ever be a mystery. Her mind was far too full of bizarre ideas to have a clue which way she was going. At last she spotted Julia’s pale blonde hair glimmering in the sunlight as she hurried across the crisp, frost covered grass to meet her sister.

  “Bethany!” She called. “Where have you been? I have half the household out looking for you.”

  “I am sorry, Julia,” Bethany replied, taking her hands as she drew close. “I went for a walk and got lost.” The lie slid easily off her tongue. “I did not mean to worry anybody.”

  It was a tremendous effort to drag her mind away from the morning’s events and concentrate her thoughts on her sister and what she was saying. She linked her arm through Bethany’s as she turned to walk back toward the house. Her sister was not about to tell her of her encounter with the Earl, nor of his odd hint that she was still trying to get her mind around.

  Of course, he was joking. He could not have meant what he said and while she told herself that, anger swelled that someone in his position should find it amusing to tease someone less fortunate. She determined to put Lord Summerville and his strange words out of her mind and concentrate on more immediate dangers.

  “Julia, what guests are we having this evening my dear?” She asked hurriedly. “Who do you have lined up for me this time?”

  “There are not many left that you have not already rejected,” she replied crossly. “And I doubt you will get a second chance with any of them, no matter how much your dowry may be.”

  “I return to London the day after tomorrow. Perhaps Father will realise that buying a title is not as easy as it seems.”

  “He bought mine easily enough,” she answered scornfully.

  Bethany turned her gaze on her for a moment, wanting to soothe her but having no words with which to do so. She had no wish to be in Julia’s position, as she was half convinced that not only was Sir Geoffrey a deviant, he could also be very cruel.

  She tried to change the subject.

  “I could not avoid noticing a certain animosity for your neighbour last night,” she said. “What has he done to make you scowl at him so.”

  Julia stopped walking and stared at her for a moment, then sighed.

  “You are mistaken,” she said at last.

  The rest of the walk back was done in silence. Bethany could not have concentrated on anything enough to have a conversation. Her thoughts refused to settle on anything; they kept flying back to her meeting with the Earl. He had as good as proposed and she was angry because she knew he had not meant it. He was playing with her, knowing how she hated the idea of having to buy a title with her life, when left to herself she would prefer to be chosen for herself, not her dowry.

  Once inside Winterton House she looked around for Sir Geoffrey and finding no sign of him, decided to ask a few more questions of her sister about her most important neighbour.

  “I get the impression,” she began, “that you and the Earl do not see eye to eye. You did not seem to be pleased to see him last night.”

  “It is complicated,” Julia replied sharply and with a frown. “I do not really want to discuss him. Suffice it to say he is very charming and very dangerous. You should stay away from him as much as civility will allow.”

  With that she went upstairs leaving Bethany to be even more intrigued than before. She wondered what she had meant by saying he was very dangerous, but it was easy to guess. Bethany had met him but twice, had one conversation with him which was far more intimate than she felt was seemly, and already she could not get him out of her mind. Her life was a muddle before this; now it was even worse.

  ***

  Lord Summerville watched from his bedchamber as Bethany made her way across the fields towards Winterton House. He could see the house from this high viewpoint, could see Lady Winterton as she hurried forward to greet her sister and he felt a stab of remorse, a prickling of his conscience, but not enough to deter him from his intentions.

  Bethany was a simple enough girl who had never been to court, never been subjected to sycophants wanting to use her to hoist their own interests in society, never been told she was better than everyone around her because at some point in the distant past, some ancestor had made a fortune or served the reigning monarch and been given a title for his efforts.

  The brief conversations he had so far had with her had pleased him. He liked her sense of humour and her outlook on life, her suggestions that a title was of more importance to her father than to her. He was sure she would marry for a title, but not a title devoid of wealth. He had the means to buy her and he had the means to sculpt her to his own needs.

  He would have preferred more time to know her better, to discover her principles and how strong were her religious convictions. She had been shocked to learn of his own, that was apparent, but how deep did hers go? She was surely too young and sheltered to have formed a deep conviction; new religious ideas were a fad and one which would easily be forgotten once Mary returned the country to the true faith. Given the right education on the subject, Mistress Bethany would soon see the right way.

  If he did not act soon, it would be too late. Her father would marry her to any man with a title, no matter how distasteful she might find him and she could well end like her lovely sister, trapped in a loveless marriage with no hope of more. He could not let that happen.

  ***

  That evening was to be Bethany’s last chance and she was disappointed that the only gentleman who seemed vaguely interested was a hunchback. However, looks were not everything and she tried to draw him into conversation without being too forward, but he had little to say for himself and according to Sir Geoffrey, who seemed to find the whole situation highly amusing, he was not poor enough to be too concerned.

  She thought again of running away, but there was little to be gained from that idea. She would never willingly face the hardship of life outside the wealth she was raised to.

  The following morning she went for a walk to clear her head and tried to accept whatever fate had to offer. She was depressed and the walk in the chilly morning air did nothing to dispel her depression.

  She had walked as far as Summerville Hall and stood leaning against a tree, just gazing down at it. It was an enormous house, obviously much smaller originally but more had been added and strengthened over the years. It was surrounded by formal gardens which would burst into colour when the spring came and the flowers bloomed, and beyond the gardens was farmland and rows of little cottages which she supposed belonged to the tenant farmers. There was also a small village consisting of little round cottages with thatched roofs, a small church and an inn. Beyond them were a few more buildings, probably used by tradesmen and she wondered if the village also belonged to the estate. What sort of wife would he choose, she wondered? What sort of high born lady would be good enough to help him rule all this?

  She was surprised to feel a dart of jealousy and shook herself to be rid of it.

  The sound of trotting hooves made her turn around, just in time to see the Earl draw rein and pull up his horse beside her. He was riding the most beautiful black stallion she had ever seen. Her mind had been so full of her own dismal future, she had quite forgotten where she was, but she could not resist stroking this lovely creature. She stood next to him to pat his black neck and mane, which position brought her head perilously close to His Lordship’s calf and ankle. She felt that position a little too intimate, so she moved quickly away.

  “Dare I hope you have walked all this way just to say goodbye to me?” He asked. She was getting quite used to that mischievous smile of his and wondered if he took anything seriously. “You are leaving tomorrow, are you not?”

  “I am. It seems to have been a wasted trip as it happens.”

  “Come back to the
house,” he said quietly. “I have some things to say to you and it will be more comfortable there.”

  “What can you possibly have to say to me, except goodbye? You can do that here.”

  “You really are looking grim today. Please, join me. I may be in a position to bring a smile to your face.”

  He reached down to take her hand, to help her up in front of him.

  “I am no horsewoman, My Lord,” she protested. “There is little need in London and I mostly travel by carriage.”

  She took his hand nonetheless and was quite weakened by his strength as he pulled her up into the saddle before him.

  “Have no fear,” he reassured her. “Ebony will look after you. He will not let you fall.”

  He patted the horse’s neck fondly and gently tapped its sides with his heels while she noted that he wore no spurs. The owner of all this and an animal lover to boot. What more could one ask for? She said nothing on the ride across the meadow to the house. She was too busy hanging on to worry about anything during those moments, as she had a fear of heights and the horse’s back seemed an awfully long way up.

  She only briefly wondered what this man had to say to her. Perhaps she treasured a small hope that he would make her an offer, but it was indeed a vague one. Why should he? She could hardly suppose that he had fallen madly in love with her, should she have a romantic notion of that nature, and he certainly had no need of her dowry.

  What had he meant that he might bring a smile to her face? Perhaps he knew an eligible and amiable man in need of a wife or perhaps he merely wanted to say goodbye and knew he would not be welcome at Winterton House. She still had no idea why that might be, but it was apparently so.

  Possibly, he wanted to assure himself that she would keep his secret. She would, of course. She had nothing to gain by betraying him and she had already decided he was not someone she wanted as an enemy.

  A servant brought wine and piled more logs on the fire. She looked at his handsome features and wondered how a man so very agreeable and striking could really be a papist. She would have liked to believe it was said in jest, an indication of his playful sense of humour, but she knew that was not the case.