He got to his feet as she took a last mouthful of bread and wiped her hands together, then she smiled timidly at him.
“So I can stay here?”
“Of course. Where else would you stay? I owe it to my brother to care for his family.”
“But, your mother,” she said hesitantly. “Is she still…?”
“Alive? Yes and just as bossy as ever she was. But she is at the country house with my wife.” A sudden thought creased his brow. “I will have to bring her here if you are to stay.”
“Why? Are you afraid I will take advantage of you?”
She was grinning playfully, but all he could see was Elizabeth’s fury when she found him with Marianne. How would she feel if he lived alone here with Frances, with the woman he should have married?
“On second thoughts, it would be better if you went to Surrey, stayed with them. You will be safer there if anything should go wrong.”
Frances frowned at him.
“Go wrong? What are you talking about, Adrian?”
“No matter. Besides, it will put Elizabeth’s mind at rest.”
“Does her mind need putting at rest?”
He let out a shameful sigh.
“I am afraid it does, yes. I was unfaithful to her; I hope to win her trust again and that will not happen if you stay here with me.”
“Your mother will not like it, Adrian.”
“Possibly not, but these are her grandchildren and she will have to learn to live with it. It is late; you and the children must stay here for tonight and tomorrow we will travel to Surrey. There is plenty of space for you all and the children will love the grounds.” He smiled at her, his memory showing him the pretty maid who had left with his brother and never returned. “Do you know, I do believe this is the first time you have used my given name. It was always ‘My Lord’ in the past, always formal.”
“Do you mind? The habit of using titles is buried in the past.”
“Of course I do not mind; I rather prefer it.” He went to the window and gathered the sleeping boy into his arms. “I will settle this one then come back for you and your daughter.”
“You are very kind.”
“Not at all. I am very glad you came to me; it is what Mark would have wanted.”
***
“She is not staying here!” The Dowager Countess almost screamed at her son. “After the disgrace she brought on our family, and on hers? Never!”
“It is my house, Mother. I am sorry you feel that way, but those children are your son’s and they are entitled to some consideration from their grandmother.”
She gripped his sleeve, her fingers bunched over the fabric.
“Adrian,” she said. “You will be a laughing stock. You cannot take her back into your house after what she and your brother did. Her marriage to him will not be recognised here; as far as anyone is concerned she is married to you, and where does that leave Elizabeth?”
“Mother, that is the most ridiculous thing I ever heard.”
“It is true though. There are people who will think that way. It was one thing while she was living on the other side of the world, but here under your own roof?”
“Mother, she is staying. Mark’s wife and Mark’s children are welcome here. As to your opinion, I will see what Elizabeth says about it. If she is uncomfortable, I will find another place for Frances and the children.”
In the garden, playing with their little cousin, Elise, were the son and daughter born to Mark and Frances. He had left them outside while he went into the house to break the news to his mother and his wife that they would be staying. Elizabeth took it better than he hoped.
He found her arranging flowers in the hall and she looked up sharply, gazed at him with those sad eyes, her mouth turned down. His heart pounded as he looked at her; she wore a pale blue silk gown which matched her eyes and she still looked too thin. He recalled the words of Richard Summerville: why not just take her? She is your wife.
He thought perhaps he might be tempted to do just that had she not shown him eyes filled with sadness, even though he knew Richard had not meant it. He wondered fleetingly why he had even suggested it, when it was obvious he felt some sort of guilt about his own wife.
“Elizabeth,” he began, but she interrupted.
“If you have come to me with more lies, I have no wish to hear them.”
He took a step toward her and touched her arm gently.
“I love you,” he said. “I have always loved you and I always will. I cannot think what made me make such a stupid mistake and I hope one day you will forgive me. But that is not why I have come.”
“Why then?”
“Frances came to me yesterday,” he told her. “My brother has been killed and she had nowhere else to go, so she sold everything and came home with his children. I wanted her to stay with me, but I was concerned about you.”
She made no reply, only gave him a reluctant smile.
“I have brought them here. Is it acceptable to you if they come and live here?”
“Of course they must stay here,” she said at once. “There is lots of room and it will be company for Elise.”
If only Mother had taken the news so well.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Adrian rode out to Suffolk once more that year. Curiosity was eating away at him now and he wondered if perhaps he would not be so interested in Lord Summerville’s domestic arrangements had he been able to appease his own wife.
He watched Lady Summerville as she rode slowly on a little chestnut mare, dressed as a countess should be in a red velvet cloak trimmed with ermine. Her dark hair shone and she was plumper than the skeletal figure he had observed before. She did not look any happier though, only healthier.
He would have loved to know how this had come about, why she was back in her husband’s house and not the more comfortable prison he had intended for her.
Autumn was rapidly approaching and another year would soon come to an end, yet still he was forced to live in London and pretend allegiance to the little papist woman who was aging as rapidly as the year, but not fast enough for Adrian. How much longer could the damned woman survive? England would never be free while she lived and neither would Adrian.
He intended to spend this Christmas at Kennington House with his family, whether Elizabeth liked it or not. If she could throw away the years of happiness they had spent together because of one mistake, it could only mean she no longer loved him. He could not accept that, he would not accept it.
Mary had not been well lately. Her health was failing and her enemies prayed daily for her quick death, but because of her failing health Adrian needed to see her, just to be sure she thought him still in her service. Her failing health had done nothing to curb her enthusiasm when it came to burning more Protestants.
He arrived at the palace in the morning, wanting to see Richard and ask what was happening with his wife. He might well be told to keep out of his affairs, but he had to try.
He sensed something was wrong when he entered the gallery, for everyone was silent where usually they would be chatting and laughing. He stood beside the silent crowd, his gaze following theirs to see what was happening and his heart jumped, his eyes widened in horror. Marching toward him were several of the Queen’s guards and walking among them, his hands chained together, was Richard Summerville.
Adrian thought he must be hallucinating. How was he going to discover what had happened without arousing suspicion? As the group passed the waiting spectators, Richard’s eyes met Adrian’s for a brief moment and he warned him with a subtle shake of his head.
Immediately the crowd began to talk excitedly and Adrian listened intently for information, but all he heard was gossip and speculation; nobody seemed to know the reason for His Lordship’s arrest.
Adrian wanted to know if the beautiful mistress was still here, if they had arrested her too as it seemed likely she was his crime. Would it be safe to enquire? He wondered. Surely concern for Lady Summer
ville could not be construed as suspicious, could it?
He saw another of the Queen’s ladies standing alone and decided to take the chance of asking her.
“No, My Lord,” she told him. “The woman pretending to be Lady Summerville left when His Lordship’s daughter fell ill. She never returned.”
“Do you know why they have arrested His Lordship?”
“He lied to the Queen, told her the woman was his wife. And he has been helping heretics to escape to France.”
“No!”
Adrian’s cry was spontaneous, because he could not believe his friend had allowed himself to be discovered and because it put him in the same danger, but this lady believed it was surprise behind the exclamation. Thank the Lord for that!
He hurried from the palace before anyone remembered him, recalled his visits to Lord Summerville in his apartments and decided to question him too.
But where could he go? He could not go home to Kennington House; that would put his whole family in danger and would be the first place they would look. Marianne, he thought. He would go to Marianne as no one would look for him there and she would take him in; the rooms in which she lived were his after all. But he promised himself that this time he would not be seduced into her bed, no matter how tempting she was.
***
The tailor’s shop was still there below Marianne’s rooms and now as Adrian dismounted and tied his horse to the rail, he heard the door open and a customer come out. He glanced over the man’s shoulder and was surprised to see Marianne inside, sitting behind the desk.
She looked up when he entered and her expression told him she was not happy to see him. He recalled their last meeting, how they had argued, how she had accused him of breaking her heart and he wondered why he was surprised by her reaction.
They had parted on bad terms; he had cast her aside for the second time, just as he had when he married Elizabeth, so why the hell did he expect her to help him? Was he really that arrogant?
She stood up, glanced at the young man who sat sewing in the corner, then came toward Adrian.
“What are you doing here?” She asked in an urgent whisper.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
She pushed him toward the door and he expected her to lead him to her rooms. While he was telling himself he would not be seduced a second time, he would keep his promise to Elizabeth regardless of what Marianne offered, she stopped outside in the street and turned to look up at him, her eyes wide with what seemed to be fear.
“If you have come for the same thing as last time,” she said, “please be assured that is no longer on offer.”
“Good. My wife has refused to live with me since that day and I have no wish to repeat it. Why are you whispering? What are you afraid of?”
“Why have you come?” She demanded.
“I need somewhere to stay. I am possibly a fugitive and this is the only place I could think to come where no one would look for me. These are still my rooms.”
Marianne was shaking her head.
“So, you wish to use me again, if not in the same manner,” she said. “My life is different now, Adrian.” She turned to glance into the shop for a second then looked back at her visitor. “That man in there,” she said. “He is my husband.”
Adrian drew a quick breath. This was the very last thing he expected.
“You are married?”
“I am, and my husband knows nothing about my previous life. We are happy together; do you have to come here and spoil things?”
“And who does he think pays for your rooms upstairs?” Adrian demanded.
Marianne looked uncomfortable, then glanced along the narrow street to be sure they were not overheard.
“I have not touched your money since I married,” she said. “He knows nothing about you, or my past. I am over you, Adrian, and I have found someone I can love. I appreciate everything you did for me, but you must go. You cannot stay here, you will ruin everything.”
“As you ruined everything for me?”
He was angry now, but unsure who with. She was right, she was entitled to a life of her own, entitled to be happy. Did he really want to spoil that, for his own selfish reasons?
“I am sorry about your wife,” she said, her cheeks flaming. “I cannot change the past, I can only hope for a better future.” She paused then added hopefully: “She might feel better if she knows I am married now.”
Adrian glanced quickly into the shop, saw the man had gone into the back of the building, probably to the privy, and he took the opportunity to reach out and gently touch Marianne’s cheek.
“Can he keep you?” He asked. “Can he afford this place?”
“I have some savings, thanks to you. We will survive; he does very well with his tailoring and he is teaching me. We are going to be the most sought after dressmaker and tailor in the whole of London, nay the whole of England!”
“I am sure you will,” he answered with a smile. “I wish you both every happiness, I wish you love. Look after each other.”
He mounted his horse and rode away; she had not asked why he thought himself a fugitive. She no longer cared that much and he was glad. She could not build a future while his shadow lingered.
He rode out of London, to the north away from Surrey and prayed no soldiers were seeking him at Kennington House. Where he would go from here, he had no idea, but he felt sure he would never see Richard Summerville again. Would they torture him for information? Would he be able to withstand such treatment and keep Adrian’s name out of it? He could hardly blame him if he gave him away under such pressure. Then what would become of Elizabeth, of Frances and their children? They would use the women and children to lure him and once they had him, would they release them? Or would they too be executed?
For the first time he wished with all his heart he had listened to his wife and gone to the New World when this reign began. Had he done that, he could have been there to help Mark, possibly save his life and even if he had not been able to save him, he would have been there to protect his wife and children.
Now all that awaited him was an execution on Tower Hill.
He had more or less left the direction to his horse but now he dragged himself out of his dismal thoughts and looked at his surroundings; he was on his way to Suffolk, to Summerville Hall. Was that a safe place to be? Probably not, but he had nowhere else. There was always the little hovel in the woods where he had found Lady Summerville.
***
He took the journey slowly, still not certain of his destination, and stayed a few nights in various inns along the route. He thought he was less likely to be found if he moved about, among people who had no idea who he was.
That is how he came to be in a hostelry on the edge of Cambridgeshire when he heard that Queen Mary was dead. The relief was overwhelming, he felt that all his prayers had been answered at once, but what of people awaiting death at her command?
“Oh, the new Queen has freed them all,” the innkeeper told him cheerfully. “She’s a Protestant herself so they not be heretics to her.”
“But what of others?” Adrian asked fearfully. “Do you have any word of what will become of people in the Tower accused of treason?”
The innkeeper smiled, an indulgent smile as though he were humouring a child.
“You are thinking of Lord Summerville, perhaps? I was shocked to learn what he had been doing while every Protestant thought he was their worst enemy. Are you a friend of his?”
Adrian nodded.
“I am.”
“Then I am pleased to tell you he is home with his wife. He called in here on the way; Queen Elizabeth pardoned all her sister’s enemies.”
So it was over and now Adrian was back in London, gazing up at the canopy above his bed and trying to decide if it would ever be possible to reconcile with his beloved Elizabeth. He turned his head to look at her pillow, closed his eyes and recalled the last time her lovely head had lain on that pillow, and his heart ache
d.
His memory was showing him her soft, white flesh, her sumptuous breasts, her swelling hips, her thighs which wrapped themselves around him as he buried himself inside her. He had to try; he could not live his life without her, without at least trying to discover if he had killed her love completely, or if there was still a murmur within her heart, desperate for a chance to be heard.
He swung his legs off the bed and was about to pull on his boots when he heard the child’s voice from downstairs and wondered if Frances had perhaps returned with her children. Had she had enough of Mother at last? He would never blame her for that. The woman was insufferable when it came to her own dignity and Frances’ very existence in his house was an affront to that dignity. He imagined people in noble circles were gossiping about them as well, wondering how Adrian could allow his former betrothed to live under his roof. Mother would not like that; she would hate it.
Perhaps now the evil reign was over he could find a place for Frances and the children where they did not have to be beholden to him or suffer the insults of the Dowager.
Assuming it was his brother’s wife, he got to his feet, ready to go and greet her and that is when the door to his bedchamber opened and his daughter came running in and flung her little arms around his knees.
“Elise,” he said as he hugged her tightly. “How did you get here?”
“Mother sent me,” the child said.
She turned in his arms to look at the door where her nurse stood waiting for her to finish greeting her father. Adrian gave her a quizzical look as she gathered up the little girl and carried her out, handed her over to a servant and returned to his bedchamber.
“My Lord,” she said with a curtsy. “Little Adrian is very ill. Lady Elizabeth sent me here with little Lady Elise so she did not contract the illness.”
“What is wrong with him?”
“We are not sure, My Lord. The physician has bled him, but there has been no improvement. Her Ladyship asks you to go to her.”
Adrian did not hesitate. Those words could have lit up his life if only they were not brought to him under these circumstances.
HOLY POISON: Boxed Set: The Complete Series 1-6 Page 63