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

by Margaret Brazear

  Robert bowed to her, Antonia curtsied and she could see her return curtsy was a struggle to perform. She likely felt herself above Antonia in the social structure and resented this act of respect being forced upon her.

  A smile appeared suddenly on her face as she came out of the curtsy, not a spontaneous, warm smile, but a false one, put there for a purpose.

  "My Lord," she said. "My Lady. I do hope I am not intruding but I wanted to give you my best wishes and to ask a favour."

  "A favour?" Robert asked.

  "Yes," Camilla replied. "I am to wed the son of the Duke of Newforth…” She paused for the shortest moment, and they could both see she was looking for a reaction. She got none. “I shall be residing at my husband's estate in Northumberland.”

  Antonia glanced quickly at her husband. Camilla’s mention of her marriage to a future Duke was obviously designed to exasperate her former love, to make him see what he was missing, and Antonia was afraid he may react badly. But he merely lifted an eyebrow and sighed impatiently.

  “It is my maid, Maisie," Camilla went on as she indicated the girl who stood beside her, her eyes firmly fixed on her feet. "She has an elderly mother living in the village here and is distraught at having to move so far away. I was wondering if you could make use of her."

  Antonia looked at the girl as Camilla prodded her with a sharp poke of her fingernail to curtsy. She was a plump little thing with greasy hair of an indiscriminate colour and a spotty complexion. She did not look very clean, neither did she look very intelligent. Antonia's first thought was that the girl was too dull to train for anything useful so her mistress was foisting her off onto them.

  Camilla spoke of her as though she were some spare bedding she had left over; make use of her, indeed.

  Robert was looking at his wife, his eyebrow raised in query.

  "I expect I can find something for her to do," Antonia replied. "I am in need of a personal maid. It is not something I have ever had a use for before so perhaps she can teach me a few things."

  She had doubts even as she spoke, but she could only hope.

  Camilla's eyes swept critically over her and that same little smirk appeared on her lips again.

  "I am sure she can," she replied.

  Antonia looked at Robert, hoping he would read her mind and avoid asking this woman to stay for refreshments.

  "Will you stay, My Lady?" He asked.

  She wished he had not done that; now she would wonder if he was missing the woman's company.

  "Goodness, no," Camilla replied. "I have a million things to do before I leave. Goodbye now."

  She took Robert's hand and leaned towards him, pushing her face forward as though expecting a kiss on her cheek. Antonia was delighted when she did not get one.

  The next few weeks were unlike anything Antonia had ever experienced before, what with the neighbours inviting them to various functions and having to return their invitations with ones of their own. Then the villagers all bowing and curtsying whenever she appeared. In all the time she had lived here as the old Earl's ward, she had never been treated like this. The villagers had treated her with deference and respect, but they had been friendly and gossipy. Now they were more respectful and polite, paying her the homage due to her rank, and she felt she had lost her friends.

  It was all a little overwhelming and she was rather glad she did not have to go through it alone. Robert took their deference as his due, of course, but he was very understanding.

  She could not help noticing how the tenants treated the new Earl. People looked very nervous as they approached, the men removing their hats and bowing quickly, the women dropping into deep curtseys, not getting to their feet until they had gone past. They were afraid, that was apparent, and she did not like it.

  Robert noticed as well and she could see it troubled him.

  “It is because of my father,” he said. “He loved the power it gave him for everyone to be afraid. I remember being taken to visit tenants when I was a child, I remember him finding fault with something and ordering the families off his land. Now they believe I am the same and I am not sure how to convince them otherwise.”

  “But you fed and housed them all during the snow.”

  “I did, but apparently that was not enough.”

  “They will soon learn,” she assured him, then she rode on ahead to arrive at the village before him. Quick curtseys and bows greeted her arrival, nothing like the terror with which they greeted Robert’s visits. She turned in the saddle and noticed him holding back, though still within earshot, waiting to see what she had in mind, and she was pleased. He trusted her with the task, and that meant the world to her.

  She approached one of the peasant women who had just risen to her feet.

  “Is there anything you need, Mistress?” She asked at once.

  “My Lady?”

  “Do you have enough food, wood for your fire. Does your cottage need repairs?”

  Still the woman could only stare at her as though she was playing some trick.

  “Lord Robert wants me to enquire on his behalf,” Antonia persisted. “He wants to be sure you are safe and your homes are in a good state of repair.”

  “He does?”

  The look of disbelief on the woman’s face made Antonia want to slap her. How was she supposed to make her understand that she was asking for her benefit and the benefit of her family.

  “Yes,” she replied, feeling angry on Robert’s behalf. “Lord Robert is not his father, Mistress. He wants to be sure his tenants are comfortable. Please, think about it. I will expect an answer tomorrow.”

  She turned her pony and rode back to Robert, drew rein next to his horse where he sat astride the animal grinning. He leaned over and kissed her.

  “Thank you,” he said. “Perhaps with your help they will accept me for who I am. I would hate for everyone to think I am like him; I don’t think I could bear it.”

  She reached out and clasped his hand.

  “We will make them understand,” she assured him. “I promise.”

  He still looked distressed and Antonia found it hurt her to see him like that. She was beginning to feel tender towards him, may even be falling in love with him, and if that was the case she had no intention of fighting it.

  She had disliked him intensely on their first meeting but now her opinion had changed and she wondered which Robert was the genuine one, the arrogant, self important man she had met then, or the amiable, affectionate one she was living with now. Indeed, he was very affectionate, both in and out of the bedchamber; he would take her hand at unexpected moments and lean over and kiss her for no apparent reason. At first she thought it was to impress whoever was watching, but she soon realised that he behaved the same when they were alone. And sharing his bed was a joy she could never have anticipated. She had been prepared to tolerate it, to endure the physical part of the marriage out of duty, but she never expected to look forward to it.

  She wondered if he felt the same about her, but she would not ask. She was afraid of the answer.

  The maid whom Lady Camilla had foisted on to her was doing a lot better than Antonia had expected. She felt somewhat guilty as she had suspected the only reason Camilla would have for passing on this servant would be if she had something wrong with her, be totally useless or inept. In fact, she knew her job and had done wonders for Antonia's self esteem. She did everything to perfection, her hair, her clothing, her jewellery, which was another new thing for Antonia. She had never had much interest in jewellery and that had not changed, but Robert had done her the honour of presenting her with his mother’s jewels; she owed it to him to wear them.

  “They are very beautiful, My Lady,” Maisie remarked as she dusted a diamond necklace before replacing it in the chest. Then she lifted out a brooch designed to resemble a flower, with rubies for the blooms and emeralds for the leaves. “This was always my favourite,” she added.

  Antonia narrowed her eyes at her.

  “Alwa
ys?” She asked. “You speak as though you have seen them before.”

  “Yes, My Lady,” Maisie replied impulsively. “When His Lordship was showing them to My Lady Camilla.”

  She wrapped the jewels in their velvet purses and placed them back in the chest without a further word on the subject. She did not seem to realise she had said anything untoward, but Antonia felt like crying.

  It was such a silly thing, really. Robert thought he would marry Camilla, of course he had shown her his mother’s jewels, but it hurt just the same. She wanted to believe they were special to her, that she was the only one who had ever seen them or touched them.

  “Did Lady Camilla ever wear any of them?” She asked, not really wanting a reply.

  Maisie looked at her with a puzzled frown then shook her head.

  “No, My Lady,” she said. “His Lordship brought them to Stanton House and showed them to her, because they belonged to the late Countess, and he said that when she was his wife she would have them.”

  “So there was a prior commitment, after all,” Antonia murmured.

  Maisie frowned. She obviously had no idea what she was talking about.

  “But you are his wife now, My Lady, so they are yours,” she said, showing a smile which displayed her bad teeth.

  Antonia watched her go and tried to control her illogical anguish. Why should he not have shown the jewels to Camilla, why not tell her they would be hers? He expected to marry the woman. She tried to reason with herself, but it had no affect; she would not mention it to Robert. He would think her very foolish, just as she thought herself.

  Three months into their marriage the wonder of their nights together had not diminished. Nothing had been said about their reasons for marrying and in her naivety, her sheer ignorance on the subject of physical love, she wondered if he were doing something to prevent conception.

  She expected to have conceived by this time. It seemed a reasonable assumption as if what they did each night was not the way to make babies, she could not imagine what was. There was but one way to put her mind at ease, but she felt very foolish about voicing her concerns.

  "Robert," she began as she climbed into bed. "You do want a son?"

  He turned from his position on the edge of the bed where he was removing the last of his clothing.

  "Of course," he said with a fond smile. "And you?"

  "Oh yes. It is just that nothing has happened and I wondered if you..." She hesitated, blushed. "We were forced into this marriage and you have never said whether it suits you, whether you are happy about it."

  He slipped into the bed beside her and gathered her into his arms, pulled her head to rest against his naked chest and kissed her forehead.

  "You are right," he said. "We seem to have both avoided the subject and perhaps we should discuss it, if only to admit how wrong we were." He paused, squeezed her to him. "Or is that too presumptuous of me? I know I was wrong; I rather got the impression you had changed your mind about disliking me. Or is that my conceit talking?"

  She snuggled against him, kissed his chest and wrapped her arms around him.

  "No it is not your conceit," she replied. "I do not dislike you. Rather the opposite; I think I am in love with you and I do enjoy you."

  He laughed softly, then took her chin in his fingers and tilted her face up to look at him. He kissed her, a long, deep kiss which made her breasts tingle and her body throb with longing.

  "You are young," he told her. "It will happen and in the meantime, think how much we will enjoy trying."

  Despite his assurances, it bothered her that there was as yet no sign of a child, and she continued to look for signs.

  She would often stand before her mirror and hold her own breasts in her hands, hoping they might be a little tender or a little larger than normal. Each month she was disappointed, but Maisie seemed to have the answer.

  The maid had become more relaxed around Antonia than when she first arrived and often chatted away about anything and everything, the weather, the village children, the woman taken in adultery and whipped through the town. Antonia hardly noticed what she said, as most of it was merely unsubstantiated gossip and she often thought the best way to reveal something to the world would be to tell it as a secret to Maisie.

  This day she must have noticed Antonia’s inspection of herself in the hope that she might be with child; indeed she must have noticed many times but this was the first day she had spoken of it. Her Lady could not know it was the first day she had a reason to speak of it.

  "Forgive me for mentioning it, My Lady," she said, "but my mother is a herbalist; she can make lots of potions and I know she has one which can help a woman conceive. It has worked on many others. Would you like me to ask her for some?"

  Antonia's eyes met hers and she felt suddenly grateful. She always had the feeling that Maisie would much rather be with her former mistress and had made little attempt to answer her questions or talk about herself. This offer, following her spate of gossip, made her feel that at last she was beginning to feel at home.

  It was the beginning of springtime when Antonia began to suffer from sickness. She was feeling good about the sunshine and the cuckoo she could hear outside. A few green leaves were breaking through on the trees and some flowers had broken out of their buds. The air outside the window smelled fresh and spring like.

  She was on her way to the front door when the desperate need to vomit sent her running to the outside privy and the waste bucket.

  At first she thought she must have conceived and was delighted, but it was not long before she knew she was mistaken.

  Maisie was very attentive and brought her broth every day, made from wild mushrooms, her mother's recipe she said. It certainly tasted good, but took tremendous effort to keep down.

  Each day she tried to eat, each day she felt more nauseous and even weaker than the last. She was missing the beautiful spring and her vitality was draining away fast.

  Robert sent for a physician who examined her thoroughly, a little too thoroughly she thought, and she would have protested loudly had she been left alone with him, had Robert not stayed in the chamber with her.

  "Well?" Robert asked.

  "My Lord, I think it must be Her Ladyship's teeth. Bad teeth often cause bad stomachs."

  Robert sighed impatiently.

  "Do you not think, if her teeth were bad, they would hurt?"

  The doctor shook his head.

  "Not necessarily, My Lord. The poison from her teeth is draining into her stomach and causing her illness. The sooner we get those pulled out, the sooner she will recover."

  Antonia sat on a chair beside the window and listened with disbelief and rising irritation. She had heard this idea before, but she knew of no one who had actually been helped by the remedy and she thought the theory belonged to the past. She felt too weak to be really angry, but neither did she feel well enough to be polite.

  "My Lord," she asked Robert, "are you considering paying this quack?"

  "My lady," argued the physician. "I have to object..."

  "As do I, Doctor, as do I," she answered. "There is nothing wrong with my teeth. I can still chew my food without pain; what I cannot do is keep it in my stomach where it belongs."

  He turned his attention to Robert.

  "My Lord," he said. "The decision is yours. You would do well to take my expert advice."

  "No, Doctor. The decision about my wife's body is hers alone. I think you had best leave."

  He watched the man go, then crouched down beside his wife’s chair and took her hand. He looked really concerned, a fact which warmed her heart but made her feel no better.

  At last she grew so weak, she was forced to take to her bed. She had never been ill in her life and she felt it a weakness. Robert came to lie on the bed beside her and fold her into his arms.

  "I have sent for a new physician," he told her. "That last one had no idea what was wrong, so we will see what this one thinks. Are you certain you are not
with child?"

  "I am not, Robert. I am sorry."

  He squeezed her tightly.

  "No need to be sorry. That will come in good time; it is not as though we have not been doing our best now is it?"

  Her eyes met his and she noticed that mischievous grin of his; she gently punched him and smiled back, but her stomach hurt and she wanted to be sick again.

  "Please go, Robert," she said. "I cannot bear for you to see me like this."

  "And what sort of man would I be if I could only love you when you are well?"

  "And what sort of wife would I be if I were happy for you to see me looking so disgusting.”

  The physician arrived with leeches to suck the bad blood out of her. She shuddered when he placed them on her and closed her eyes, refusing to look. Horrible little creatures, leeches. If she had looked at them she would have seen them swelling before her eyes, growing fat on her blood, and she knew that. She had watched when a physician applied them to her mother when she had a fever. They did no good. She only felt weaker when he took them away.

  She asked Robert to open the windows as the chamber was warm and she could hear the birds outside, the noises of summer. There was music coming from the village green, bells and singing and she remembered suddenly that this was the time of year for the May Day celebrations.

  "I want to see," she said shakily.

  He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the window, sat on the seat there and held her on his lap so she had a good view of the children dancing around the maypole and the singing that was going on. She had so looked forward to enjoying the summer, to visiting the tenants as Robert's Countess and walking about the beautiful grounds. She had always enjoyed that, ever since the old Earl had brought her to live here. Now she feared she would never do that again, she would never see another summer and a tear escaped the corner of her eye.