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

by Margaret Brazear

  She handed the goblet back to Louisa and got to her feet, intending to go upstairs and talk to Richard herself, but as soon as she put a foot on the stair a female servant stepped in front of her. It was the same woman who had tried to prevent her going to Bethany that morning, the one she had called 'Nancy'.

  "I need to see His Lordship," Rachel told her firmly. "It is important."

  Nancy’s eyes swept over her insolently before she spoke.

  "His Lordship is with his wife," she said meaningfully.

  "You think I do not know that? I have something very important to tell him and he will not thank you for keeping it from him."

  She stayed where she was and folded her arms in front of her.

  "Midwife's in there at the minute," she replied at last. "When she comes out, I will go and see if he wants to see you. He might. He might want to know how you knew where little Joshua was to be found."

  "That is what she wants to tell him, you stupid woman!" Came Louisa's voice from behind her. Rachel turned to look at her, smiled a thank you, then went back to her seat. She would just have to wait.

  "I cannot stay here, My Lady," Louisa said when they were once more seated. "I will go and get some supplies organised for us. I take it you will be staying in Suffolk?"

  "I think that would be best, at least until we know how Lady Summerville is faring." Louisa stood up and walked toward the door. "How will you get there?"

  "I will walk if I have to," she replied stubbornly.

  "Let me get you a mount," Thomas said from the doorway. "I can ride with you, make sure you get there safe."

  Louisa glared at him as though he had sworn at her instead of offered help.

  "I want nothing from you, Sir, thank you," she answered angrily. "You will want to be here when His Lordship comes down to be sure you are first with your accusations."

  She spun around and made for the door, while Thomas glanced at Rachel with an abashed look, then followed her.

  "At least let me find you a mount," he was saying.

  Then their voices faded away as they moved outside and toward the stables, while Rachel waited for the midwife to come out, for Richard to show his face, for anything to happen that would tell her Bethany would recover.

  As she sat and waited she could hear whispering from the servants who were standing around, waiting for news, as she was. She could not hear most of what was said, but her imagination easily filled in the gaps as they glanced surreptitiously toward her every few minutes.

  At last the front door opened and she was grateful to see Lucy hurrying toward her. It was so good to see a friendly face amid the hostile crowd.

  "My Lady," she said at once. "Louisa came to fetch me. How is Her Ladyship?"

  "The same, as far as I can discover. Nobody wants to tell me anything. They do not think I should be here."

  Lucy squeezed her hand then went to the staircase. Nancy tried to step in front of her, but she was not so easily intimidated.

  "His Lordship sent for me," she lied to the woman whose eyebrows shot up.

  "How?" Nancy asked. "He has not been out of the bedchamber long enough to send for anyone."

  "He called from the window, just as Louisa was leaving," she replied, so convincingly Rachel almost believed it herself. It worked, though. Nancy stepped aside and let her pass.

  It was no more than a few minutes before Richard came down the stairs toward Rachel, but there was no sign of Lucy. He held out his hands to her as she stood up and she breathed a sigh of relief to realise he did not blame her, nor did he think she had anything to do with the abduction of his son.

  "Lucy said you had information for me," he said at once. "I cannot be long. Bethany needs me."

  "How is she, Richard? Will she recover? Will the child survive?"

  "Those are all questions to which I, too, need answers but right now we can only pray. Her fever is abating, but she slips in and out of consciousness. The midwife says the child is still strong."

  He held on to her hands and ignored the hostile glares of his servants. Their thoughts were transparent: this man, whom they respected above all, was letting them down by being out here with his mistress when his wife was so ill.

  "Lucy said you wanted to tell me something important," he said.

  "Yes," she replied. "Your man, Thomas, believes I was responsible for the abduction of your son."

  That was not what she had meant to say; why had that slipped out when her urgent information was about Anthony?

  "Why would he think that?"

  "Because I knew where to find him, but that is not important right now."

  "What does he think you would have to gain by that?"

  She sighed impatiently, wanting to get to the point. She raised an eyebrow.

  "Some feminine scheme to get you back into my bed, apparently," she said ironically. "Bethany said you were off searching with Anthony."

  He nodded.

  "Where is he now?"

  "He wanted to carry on searching, in case the information was wrong. He will be back soon I imagine."

  "No," she said, shaking her head. "You will not see him again."

  Richard gave her a puzzled frown.

  "He is responsible, Richard. It was Anthony who abducted your son; that is how I knew where to find him." She waited for the information to settle in his mind before she hurried on. "Only a week before the little boy went missing, he asked me about the orphan home where I found Louisa.”

  "Why?" He asked, bewildered. "Why would he do that?"

  "He wants Summerville. Oh, my dear, had I not realised what he had planned, you could have searched for months and never seen that child again."

  He looked stunned and her heart went out to him. The servants were staring, all wondering what she had said to their Lord to distress him so. She would be blamed no matter what.

  "I can scarce believe it," he murmured. "He has been against Bethany because of the past, and because she was not born to the same class as me, but why should such a thing make him endanger my son?"

  "It is not only her class he objects to. He thinks you should have married a Catholic and he has been meeting with conspirators trying to replace Elizabeth with the Queen of Scotland."

  He looked even more bewildered then, and she hoped she had not said too much. This was all such a lot for him to deal with in one day.

  Just then Lucy came out of the bedchamber clutching a crying Joshua by the hand.

  "My Lord," she called. "Her Ladyship is about to deliver."

  "What? It is much too early," he replied leaping to his feet. He turned to Nancy, grabbed her arm. "Fetch a nurse to take care of my son, please," he said sternly. "Make sure she does not let him out of her sight."

  Then he took Rachel’s hand and ran off up the stairs to the bedchamber.

  "Richard, what are you doing?" She asked him. She pulled her hand free as they got to the door. "I cannot go in there. The gossip will be horrendous."

  He just stared at her and she knew he did not care one iota about gossip, but she had to care for Bethany's sake. She did not want everybody saying her husband's mistress was at the birth of her child.

  The door opened and the midwife stood waiting; Rachel pushed him inside but she waited on a settle beside the door, hoping to hear some good news.

  ***

  Richard sat on the bed, holding his wife’s hand, while the midwife gave him disapproving looks.

  “You should leave, My Lord,” she said firmly. “It is not fitting for a man to be in a confinement chamber.”

  "Are you Protestant?" He asked the woman abruptly.

  She lowered her eyes and blushed.

  "No, My Lord," she replied in a whisper. "But neither are you from what I have heard."

  "No," he agreed, "but my wife is. You may stay and help my her; I have little choice, but you will keep your scrolls and jet in your bag and you will keep your prayers in English."

  "As you wish, My Lord," she agreed quietly al
though she looked doubtful.

  "Richard." Bethany's voice was low, hoarse and faltering. "Please go. I do not want you here."

  "I am going nowhere."

  "No, please go. This is no place for a man."

  "I do not want to leave you," Richard said insistently.

  "You must. You will never feel the same about me if you stay. Please, go.”

  ***

  Rachel watched him run off down the stairs and she took up a position beside the door until he returned. She had overheard the exchange between him and the midwife; one sign of a Latin prayer or a Catholic relic and she would intervene. She did not know why it was so important, but it obviously was. She was also safe from hostile glares up here, so she thought it best to stay.

  "Lady Rachel," a man's voice whispered from behind her.

  She turned, startled, to see a priest in Catholic garb. Yes, Father McEntire, who lived here in secret.

  "Father?"

  "Forgive me for intruding, but I do not know what is happening and I do not know who to trust."

  "You may trust me, Father," she replied. "Lady Summerville has been taken ill and has gone into early labour. We have physicians and a midwife, but all we can do now is pray."

  She narrowed her eyes at the man; if Richard was adamant about refusing the services of a Catholic midwife, he would most definitely not want this priest in the chamber.

  The midwife flung open the door, making them both jump.

  "Where is His Lordship?" She demanded. "Where is the physician?"

  The physician heard her and came hurrying up the stairs. It was not usual for a man, even a physician, to be present at a birth; the midwife must be really concerned to send for him.

  Rachel was not sure what to do. None of the servants would take her orders to find Richard and she wanted to stay where she could learn of Bethany's condition. She turned to the priest.

  "Father, we need to find Lord Summerville. Can you change into some different clothes and go and look for him?"

  He nodded then quickly disappeared into the east wing, that part of the house which was cut off from the remainder, that Richard had ordered cut off himself to please his first wife, his virgin wife who wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

  Just then he returned and disappeared into the birthing chamber, despite Bethany's pleas for him to go.

  The priest returned, clad in a long cloak which covered his clothes.

  "There is no need to fret, Father," Rachel told him. "His Lordship is back now."

  There was a lot of screaming going on inside the chamber as well as soothing murmurs and Rachel began to feel embarrassed to have to share the sound with the priest. She moved close to the door and opened it a fraction to peer through, saw Richard holding his wife's hand, saw the midwife reaching beneath the covers to knead Bethany's stomach. She moved quickly away as the physician came toward her out of the room.

  He caught sight of the priest; they had obviously met before.

  "Father," he said quickly. "Thank God. I think you may be needed."

  "No!" Rachel cried out, shaking her head. "No. She cannot be dying."

  The physician glared at her, his mouth turned down in distaste.

  "I am afraid she may well be, My Lady," he said through clenched teeth. It was obviously an effort to be civil. "Perhaps this is not the place for you at this time."

  The priest looked shocked at the incivility, but Rachel was quite used to it.

  "Lady Summerville wants me here," she said firmly. "She asked me to stay and nobody is going to chase me away."

  It was a lie, of course, and she had no idea whether Bethany would want her there or not. She knew Richard would want her there, and that was good enough for her. She could only hope Bethany had not overheard her conversation with Louisa in the kitchen of the orphan home.

  She could not be dying. Rachel could not allow that idea to seep into her mind and all the heartache which would go with it. Richard needed her, desperately, and if he lost her he would lose his mind. And Anthony would be a dead man.

  The physician turned to Father McEntire and beckoned him inside the chamber, while Rachel watched with anticipation, knowing in her heart that Richard would not welcome him.

  "No." His raised voice came from within. "No priests."

  "But My Lord, the doctor asked for me."

  "No. Please Father, leave. I do not want you here. No priests. My wife is not Catholic."

  The door opened again and the priest emerged, shaking his head.

  "It should not matter to His Lordship that Her Ladyship is not a Catholic. He knows what is right. She is in no position to refuse."

  Rachel remembered the day they all thought Richard had been beheaded for treason. She remembered going to the village church to light a candle, only to see Bethany emerging. She had been to buy masses for his soul, despite her own beliefs that he needed no such thing. She respected his beliefs that day, now it was his turn to respect hers.

  "It is Her Ladyship’s decision, Father. His Lordship knows what she would want.”

  “She may not believe in Purgatory, but it is real and she will go there if not given Last Rites. His Lordship knows that, so what is his meaning?”

  “Does he know that?” Rachel asked. “I am not sure he does. I am not sure he believes in anything anymore, except his love for her.”

  Before he had a chance to argue, there was another loud scream and the door crashed open. Richard almost fell through the doorway, tears in his eyes. He took one long stride toward Rachel and clutched her to him as though she were a raft on a stormy sea. The priest shook his head in disapproval.

  "I think you had better leave us, Father," Rachel said with authority.

  He moved away but only as far as the next chamber.

  "Richard?" She said softly, taking his face between her hands to look at him. "Bethany, she will recover?"

  He just looked at her bleakly as though he had no words, then he replied in a hoarse whisper:

  "I am a coward, Rachel. I cannot stay any longer. I cannot stay and watch her suffer."

  Rachel sensed the priest returning to stand before them.

  "My Lord," he said. "I realise this is not what you want to hear, but Her Ladyship is very weak. She needs my services."

  "No priests!" He yelled, pulling away from her.

  Father McEntire bowed his head in acquiescence then fled back to the east wing.

  "Do you know what she did?" He said at last. "When she believed I was dead, executed, do you know what she did? She went to the village to buy masses for my soul. She did not believe I needed them, but she knew that I did. She put aside her own beliefs to follow mine, for that one day, for me. What sort of man am I if I cannot do the same for her?"

  She nodded slowly. It was just as she had thought. She pulled him into her arms, no longer caring what the servants, the doctor, the priest or anyone else had to say about it. Bethany would understand, she would even be glad that Rachel had been there to comfort her dear husband when she could not. Rachel understood that, as no other ever could. That was the strength of her love, and that was why he would not survive without her.

  They sat on the stairs together, arms around each other, while she tried to hide her own tears as they would not help him.

  "Your Lordship," the midwife called anxiously, giving Rachel a wary glance. "The child is born, My Lord. The doctor says Her Ladyship is a little stronger."

  Richard lifted his head and looked at her, as though he thought perhaps he had fallen asleep to dream this moment and needed confirmation. Rachel smiled and nodded, kissed his cheek and sent him in to be with his wife.

  Her prayers had been answered and when Bethany awoke, she would find no trace of Rachel.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Hostile glares followed Rachel as she descended the staircase and made her way to the front doors, but they were no worse than she expected and were not powerful enough to wipe the smile from her face, nor chase the tears
of happiness from her eyes. Bethany had a long way to go, but she was growing stronger. She would not die, she would not leave Richard broken beyond repair.

  As she got to the door, Thomas stepped forward.

  "Shall I arrange for your horses to be made ready, Your Ladyship?" He asked, surprising her. Perhaps he just wanted to be sure she was leaving.

  "With a burr beneath the saddle, no doubt," she replied.

  He looked abashed for a moment before he spoke again.

  "I fear I spoke out of turn earlier, My Lady," he said.

  Her eyes swept him from head to foot before coming to rest on his face.

  "If that is all the apology I am to expect, I will accept it," she told him. "As to my horses, one of the stable boys can do it. If they are not willing to help me I am perfectly capable of managing by myself."

  He followed her out of the house and toward the stables.

  "Your maid told me the truth of the matter. She was adamant that I should treat you with more respect," he said quietly.

  She stopped walking and turned to face him anxiously.

  "Louisa?" She asked him. "What did she tell you?"

  She was terrified. Louisa had been wanting for years to reveal the truth about her mistress’s relationship with Lord Summerville; it had been eating away at her. If she had let her secret fall into the hands of this man, she would never forgive her. She knew that; she would not betray her, surely.

  "Nothing, My Lady," he replied with a puzzled frown. "She thinks the world of you and will defend you to anyone. I admire her."

  Rachel folded her arms and stared up at his face. He looked neither abashed nor insolent, but he did not look like a servant. He was a man who would never be humble, no matter what his position in life.

  "But not me, eh Thomas?" She replied. "You will never admire me."

  He made no reply and she recalled his admonition from earlier that day. I was the one saw her heart break before my eyes. Why should he ever think more of her? There was nothing she could do to make herself accepted by any of these people and their only concern was that His Lordship might let her back into his life, break his wife's heart all over again.