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

by Margaret Brazear

  She pushed him away.

  "Robert, please. I can never come back to you. I do not believe Camilla would have tried to poison me without your consent, and no unlikely tale of jealousy is going to convince me."

  "It was not poison. A drug to make you ill, an emetic, not poison."

  "It killed the rat."

  "Because it was a much smaller creature, I imagine. Nobody wanted to kill you, least of all me."

  "The cruellest part was making me believe you loved me," she said. "Why did you do that? Why did you make me fall in love with you? Was it to show kindness to a dying woman? Did that make you feel better about it?"

  "Antonia, please. I do love you, I really do. I have missed you so much."

  She stepped back, put some space between them and her eyes met his. She felt that line of bitterness on her mouth again and she tried to push it away. She did not want to feel sorry for herself. She had never had much patience with self pity, but she could feel nothing else.

  At last she took a deep breath and swallowed.

  "I do not believe you," she said.

  "I realise that," he said. "And I have no idea how to make you believe me. But I am not going to let you simply disappear again. We had an agreement, remember? You promised to be my wife; you promised to do your duty."

  "You did not promise not to kill me."

  They stared angrily at each other, neither knowing what to say next. She saw the anger in his eyes, his jaw clenched as did his fists, while she tried to plan her escape.

  She thought he was angry because he was unable to convince her to go quietly, because his plan had been thwarted. She could see no other reason for it, she could not see the anger was not directed at her.

  They were still staring silently at each other when Julia opened the door and stepped inside the room. She stood still in the doorway and gasped, then continued on her way inside, leaving the door open.

  "Are you all right, Antonia?" She asked nervously.

  Antonia turned to look at her, then went and put her arms around her.

  "I am now," she said. "This is Lord Roxham, my husband."

  "I know who he is," Julia replied. Gently she touched the bruise on Antonia’s jaw with the back of her hand. "He has hurt you?"

  Robert frowned, caught his breath.

  "No, Julia," Antonia protested. "I told you before, he has never hurt me. You might find your husband has a broken nose though."

  Julia looked at her quizzically.

  "He attacked my wife," Robert told her. "If I see him again, he will not be so fortunate."

  Julia only smiled.

  "I have to go, My Lady," Antonia said. "I cannot stay with you any longer; it is not safe."

  Julia's eyes moved from her to Robert and back again.

  "You are going back to him?" She asked.

  "No," Antonia answered.

  "Yes," Robert argued. "Yes, she is coming home with me. I have been searching for her for months and I have to find some way to convince her that I did not try to murder her, that I love her. If I have to insist, then I will. She is my wife and she belongs with me."

  Julia look from him to Antonia, raised a quizzical eyebrow.

  "You will not take her without her consent, My Lord," she said firmly. "I have friends here in the palace and if my husband complains about his treatment at your hands, there will be a very long delay while it is investigated."

  "It is all right, Julia," Antonia said. "I will go with him. I do not want you involved in this."

  "I am involved," she protested. "You are my friend and I will not see you hurt." She turned to Robert, her voice rising a little. "You will look after her? If you do not, I will know where to send the authorities."

  His anger began to rise again. Who was this frail little woman to tell him what he should be doing? But he calmed down quickly; the woman had his wife's best interests at heart, that was certain.

  "My Lady," he said with a bow as he took Antonia's hand and led her toward the door. "I will send a servant for my wife's belongings."

  Robert tried hard not to allow the smile in his heart to spread to his lips. He knew he had a long way to go before he could win Antonia's trust, and the last thing he wanted was for her to think he was feeling smug and self satisfied about his small victory.

  But he was so pleased to have found her. He had begun to think it would never happen and here he had her tiny hand in his and he could not help but feel happy about it.

  He held on to her hand all the way to his suite, where he opened the door and led her inside. He knew a moment of doubt then and he really wanted to lock the door, to be sure she did not escape, but he knew that would win him no favours. He just had to convince her he was sincere.

  "I am afraid there is but one bed," he said as he walked toward it and began to pull out the trundle from underneath. "I will sleep on this if you prefer," he said.

  Antonia looked at the uncomfortable looking trundle bed. It was designed for a servant to sleep on and comfort had not been an essential part of the design, but it did have the advantage of being nearer to the door.

  "I will sleep on that," she said.

  He narrowed his eyes and looked at the bed. If she slept on the trundle, she could flee in the night without waking him. He smiled and shook his head.

  "That would not be a very noble act on my part would it?" He said.

  "As you wish."

  There was an upholstered settle before a dying fire and he gestured toward it. She eyed him suspiciously as she made her way there and sat down. He poured wine for them both and sat beside her.

  "Antonia," he said, "I have no idea how I am ever going to convince you that I love you, that I did not arrange for you to be poisoned. I think I was already in love with you when we wed; it certainly felt like it."

  "You said you loved Camilla. You change your mind very quickly."

  "I thought I did love Camilla until I told her about the Will. I thought she would be hurt, but she was just angry at losing the title and the fortune. That is why she did what she did, to get revenge on us both. I could ask her to write and explain, but you would not believe her, would you?"

  "What reason would she have to do that, except to deceive me even more?"

  "I doubt she would want her future Duke to know what she did, do you? How would he react, I wonder, to know that while betrothed to him, she poisoned another man's wife out of jealousy?"

  "Not well, I imagine," she replied. "But you have given me an idea. Perhaps I might want revenge and will write to him myself."

  Antonia put down her goblet, untouched. She felt no confidence in taking anything from him and she wondered how to avoid eating or drinking anything he gave her.

  He frowned, then picked up her goblet and drank half the contents before handing it back with a shrug.

  “Be my guest,” he said. “Were your situations reversed, I have no doubt she would do so without hesitation. But you will not do so, because you are not Camilla. You are a much, much better woman than she will ever be.”

  She tried to suppress a smile, but it was not possible. His words pleased her and she could not hide it.

  "We had best retire for the night," he said. "We have a long day tomorrow; the procession will be tiring and extremely galling for those of us who would rather not be here, who would rather not see the little mad woman on the throne of England."

  "If you repeat that too loudly, Robert," came her swift retort, "I shall be rid of you quickly enough and permanently."

  He caught his breath and glanced at her sharply, then saw the little smile which was trying to escape.

  "You can still find every situation funny," he said. "Even this one. I shall never understand that, but I do so miss it."

  She sighed softly.

  "I have found little in the past year to amuse me," she replied. She sipped the wine, then watched the liquid as she swirled it around in the goblet. He watched her anxiously, afraid of what she might be thinking, and she
went on: "I should know you will not kill me here," she said.

  He put his own goblet down on the table and tried hard to suppress what felt like a sob, but would likely emerge as a cry of anger.

  "I love you, Antonia," he said. "I have loved you since I met you, but it took me a little while to realise it. You will think me vain, but I rather thought you were beginning to love me."

  Her eyes met his for just a moment before they dropped to her hands. Pride had never been something to stand in her way and she was not afraid to admit he was right.

  "I do love you, Robert," she answered. "I just wish I did not. I wish I could have kept that feeling of dislike I had when we first met. You gave me no reason then to think highly of you; why could you not have stayed the same? Then this would not hurt so much."

  He sighed impatiently, then put his arm around her.

  "I have not followed you all these miles to do away with you; I have followed you to bring you home. You will accompany me tomorrow, as my countess, and after the coronation we will return to Roxham Hall. If I have to chain myself to you to be sure of that I will, make no mistake. I do not intend to let you out of my sight."

  Her glance fell on the finely painted chamber pot, just visible beneath the bed.

  "That could prove embarrassing," she said, and that little smile was trying to escape again. At least he had made her laugh; he supposed that was a step in the right direction.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The men were supposed to ride on horseback in front of the procession for the Queen's coronation. Some ladies were on horseback behind, some riding in carriages, and Antonia had half a plan to disappear during that enforced separation. Robert had other ideas; he had ordered an open carriage for them both to ride in.

  "The Queen will want to know why," she protested. "You want nothing to rouse her suspicions of you."

  He took her hand as the carriage moved away and smiled.

  "Assuming she even notices, with all these people, she will be told that my wife is with child and has suffered a threatened miscarriage. I want to be with her at this time, to ensure her safety."

  "You have it all worked out," she replied.

  "I hope so." He paused and looked at the back of her head, where her face was turned away from him. "Did you hope to escape during the procession?"

  She turned her glance on him to be met with that lovely warm smile which had stolen her heart and still had the power to melt it.

  "Why do you not just let me go, Robert?" She asked him. "I will never trust you now, I cannot. We have no future together and you are hurting me by insisting that I stay with you."

  "Am I, darling?" He put his arm around her, pulled her towards him. "I am sorry for that. I do not want to hurt you, but I cannot let you go. I cannot carry on, concerned for your safety and missing you so much I can barely function. My only wish is to earn your trust again, and I cannot do that if we are apart."

  As the carriage found its place behind the others in the procession, a dark haired man on a black stallion rode up beside them, drew rein to slow his mount and gave them a small bow. He raised an eyebrow at Antonia.

  "All is well with you, My Lady?" He asked, casting a quick glance at Robert.

  It was Lord Summerville and he was asking if she was willingly here with her husband. It seemed she might have misjudged him after all. She put her hand on Robert's thigh and smiled, looked up and nodded. He bowed his head again and rode away to take his position at the front of the procession.

  "Who was that?" Robert asked, his glance falling on her hand where it rested on his thigh. She moved it away, but he caught it and put it back. "You touched me affectionately to impress him; I think I have a right to know why."

  He looked angry and Antonia realised at once that he was jealous. The knowledge gave her a warm feeling; if he was jealous, he must care for her, and that knowledge cast doubt on her belief of his guilt.

  "The Earl of Summerville," she replied. "He and his wife were concerned for my safety."

  Robert frowned. He was not happy for her to be on friendly terms with him, but it was of no matter right now. Right now he had more important things to think about.

  A few carriages ahead they could not fail to see the bright red hair of the Princess Elizabeth where she shared a carriage with the Lady Anne of Cleaves, her father's fourth wife whom he rejected.

  It would have been very exciting had Antonia not been so distraught about her own situation. Being so close to Robert was churning her emotions. She was just beginning to get him out of her dreams, out of her thoughts, and now he was back, his warm hand in hers, his strong body so close she would have loved to snuggle into it and stay there forever.

  But she did not have that option and she never would.

  "It should be her," Robert murmured.

  Antonia followed his gaze to where he stared at the Princess Elizabeth and she looked about quickly, afraid someone had heard him.

  "Hush, Robert," she whispered urgently. "Someone might hear you."

  His eyes met hers and she could see the sorrow in them. What she could not see was what that sorrow reflected; was it the Catholic succession to the throne, the deaths which were bound to follow no matter what Mary was saying now, or was it the loss of Camilla? A small voice in her head asked her if it could possibly be her loss for which he mourned, but try as she might, she could not convince herself of that.

  As the procession turned a bend she caught a quick glimpse of the Queen in her purple gown. She was wearing a gold coronet, encrusted with jewels and she seemed to have difficulty in keeping it in place, but mostly Antonia noticed her small build, her round face and her staring eyes. She was looking haggard and old; possibly, God willing, she would not occupy the throne for too long and she was surely well past child bearing age. That at least was good news to all the Protestants in the land who could not wait for a swift return to Protestant rule.

  The uncomfortable thought crept into her mind that if she had heard Robert's remark, he would at this moment be on his way to the Tower. She shivered. They had enjoyed six years of religious freedom under a Protestant king; now they would all be told they had to be Catholic, and so it went on. As a Protestant she had felt comfortable and given little thought to the papists; if they did not convert, they would lose their freedom and their property. This was different; if the Protestant population refused to recant and convert to Catholicism, they would be horribly tortured and burned alive.

  And here was Robert making treacherous remarks where Mary's loyal followers might easily hear. She was suddenly afraid to leave him alone lest he give himself away.

  The coronation was the following day, more processions, more celebrations, more banquets, and it was exhausting, but Robert kept his word and refused to let her out of his sight, until she finally had to promise she would not try to run away. He even came with her to tend to her private functions, turning his back and expecting her to do the same for him. It was intolerable! And she could not deny she had planned those moments to be fortuitous ones to escape.

  She felt humiliated and angry, but that did not change his mind and that night, when they retired exhausted to his chamber, he did not pull out the trundle, but climbed into the bed beside her.

  "What are you doing?" She demanded. "You promised to sleep on the trundle."

  "I know, but I have changed my mind."

  She sat up and looked back at him where he lie in the bed beside her.

  "Do you remember what you told me on our wedding night, when I asked you if I had a choice?" She asked him.

  "I do. That night will always be engraved in my memory. It was rather wonderful."

  She ignored the compliment.

  "You said you would never take a woman by force, that your pride would not allow it."

  "I did, and I meant every word. I have no intention of forcing you. I love you far too much to ever do anything like that.”

  "What then?"

  "I just want to feel you clos
e to me, nothing more." He stroked her cheek gently with the backs of his fingers and smiled. "I swear I will not put a pillow over your face, or strangle you. Killing you here in the palace would not be very wise, would it? How ever would I dispose of the body?"

  He smiled teasingly and she returned his smile with a hesitant one of her own.

  "My only wish is to feel you in my arms again."

  She rested her head on his chest, felt his arms hugging her against him, felt the warmth from his body and was more confused than ever. If he really wanted her death, would he be able to joke about it? She had no idea. Her own honest and forthright nature refused to allow her to contemplate anything else in others, especially in others whom she loved.

  They left the palace the following morning. Most of the other people stayed for many more days to celebrate the Queen's coronation and to show themselves, assure her of their presence and their loyalty.

  "You should stay," Antonia told her husband as they sat together in the carriage. "She needs to see you, see you were here."

  "I am sure her chief advisor will make sure she is aware," he said bitterly. "I had no idea you moved in such exalted circles."

  "I do not. It just happened to be their suite to which I retreated when I saw you coming. They were kind, both of them."

  He drew a deep breath to calm his rising temper. He was so frustrated at not being able to convince her of the truth and he had no idea what to do about it.

  "I have done it again," he said. "Forgive me, please. You were trying to hide from me, I see that and I see why. I just wish there was some way to make you see the truth."

  She put her head out of the window to assure herself that Emerald was safely tied to the carriage, that the coachman was not going too fast for her, then she leaned back and her eyes met his.

  "Shall I tell you the truth as I see it?" She asked.

  He nodded.

  "Please."

  "I believe I owe my life to a rat," she began. "There are those who would say the creature was sent by the Almighty to warn me; there are others who would say it was sent by Satan and I must be a witch. What would you say, Robert?"