"Oh, yes, Simon," she said softly. "I will marry you. If we cannot talk your father round, we will have to deal with it. But for future reference, consider yourself mine."
She broke away from him to see his father standing and watching them. She bobbed a brief curtsey then moved toward her horse, but she wanted to hear what he had to say so once past their view, she dismounted and stood listening, her horse's reins held tightly in her hand.
"I told you Simon," Mr Carlisle was saying, "her father will never allow it. You will only get your heart broken and believe me, I know how that feels."
"She is convinced her father will have no objection."
"Then she is wrong."
"And if she is not? She knows him better than we do; perhaps he will allow it. Will you give us your blessing then?"
"No Simon, I can never do that."
There was a long silence, then Simon's father spoke again and his voice sounded angry and hurt.
"That man is responsible for the death of your mother," he declared.
"Lord Summerville? You told me she was burnt for heresy."
"She was and it was he who ordered it."
Estelle caught her breath. So this was what her mother meant when she told her he was an important advisor to Queen Mary. She would never believe it.
She rode toward home slowly, thinking about those angry words, wondering if there was any way on earth they could be true, hoping there was a way they were not. Rachel told her that her father had been condemned for helping the Protestants; it was possible Mr Carlisle had no knowledge of that. Perhaps he had helped them anonymously, without revealing himself. Of course, he would have! She thought with a little tremor of relief. He could not risk anybody knowing, could he? It would all be sorted out when she told Simon about that. His father would know then, that her father was not to blame after all.
She reined in her horse. There was no time to waste, she had to tell them both, now, before he could turn Simon against her. Somehow she did not think she could bear that.
She turned around and rode back to Winterton House, where the two men were still arguing.
"Father," Simon was saying, "I am sorry, so very sorry. But I love Estelle. Why should both our hearts be broken because you have a past grudge against her father?"
"I would hardly call the murder of your mother a past grudge."
"Forgive me," Simon replied, putting his hand affectionately on his father's shoulder. "It was a poor choice of words."
"He was Mary's right hand man, Simon. He killed Julia. He killed hundreds of loyal Protestants and now he can retire peacefully to his country mansion with his wealth and his happy family, while we grieve for that wonderful woman."
"He was not responsible," Estelle interrupted. Both men turned to look at her, but she stayed mounted, feeling safer. Mr Carlisle looked very angry. "It was my father who sent the warnings."
"What? You expect me to believe that?"
"It is true. He was condemned for treason for helping the Protestants. He only survived because the Queen died and the new Queen spared him."
Simon walked toward her and took her hand, but she remained mounted.
“Even should that be true," Mr Carlisle said angrily, "there are other considerations. There is a lot you do not know, cannot know. You must go, leave here, leave Simon and never look back. Trust me; you will be happier for it."
He turned then and made his way toward the house. His shoulders were hunched a little and he looked defeated; her heart went out to him.
"I am so sorry, Simon," she said. "I should not have mentioned the warnings, not like that. But it was my father who sent them, he sent lots of warnings, he saved hundreds of Protestants. He nearly lost his life doing it."
"I believe you. My father has hated him for so long, he likely cannot imagine that he could have been wrong. He has lost the person he has always blamed and now he will have to turn that blame back on himself. He is afraid of that."
"Why does he have to blame anyone? He should blame Queen Mary if anyone, not himself. He was only doing what he thought was right, just as my father was doing what he thought was right. Now he is determined to ruin our lives because of it."
"I doubt it. It is just a shock, nothing more. You should go; your mother will wonder where you are. Come tomorrow, when he has returned home. I will talk to him."
***
Charles stood in the hall and gazed up at the portrait of Julia Winterton, his lost love. He had never seen this portrait before, had no idea it existed, and just seeing that beautiful face again pinched his heart.
He felt his wife’s touch and her cheek against his arm. He was very fortunate to have found love for the second time in his life, and even more fortunate to have found a woman who had no resentment for his first love, for Simon’s mother.
Frances was a lady in her own right, the daughter of an earl, until she had fallen in love with the brother of her betrothed and eloped with him to the Americas. She had loved Mark just as he had loved Julia and they both accepted those two people would always be a major part of their lives.
Now their happy existence was shattered; the truth would reveal itself, Simon would learn about his mother and all because of the kind gesture of a man who believed he was doing the right thing by leaving the Winterton estate to Lady Winterton’s son.
Charles wondered if Sir Geoffrey’s brother believed Simon to be his brother’s son. It was a mystery they would never solve, but it hardly mattered.
“I think,” Frances said, “that I should visit Lady Summerville, tell her of our fears. Unless you feel it is your place to speak to His Lordship.”
Charles shook his head vigorously.
“You may think me a coward, but I cannot speak to that man. I cannot bear the idea of being in the same room with him, not even for Simon’s sake.”
“I understand. But do you think Estelle is right, that it was him who sent all those warnings?”
“I know it was. Your brother-in-law told me that a long time ago and Lady Summerville wrote to me when Queen Mary died. Apart from the terror, Julia did not suffer. She assured me that her husband had smuggled in a drug which rendered her unconscious.”
“You never told me that before.”
“No. I have to believe it, but at the same time I wanted to carry on hating Summerville as I always had. I could not bear the idea that he was a hero to the cause.”
She kissed his cheek.
“Not the hero you were,” she told him. “I will talk to Lady Summerville. They must be separated, before it is too late.”
***
The following day Estelle set out after breakfast with her pulse racing. She had dozed fitfully the night before, every time she woke thinking about Simon and how he would explain to his father, how he would make him understand that his past was not their future.
As she dismounted, Simon hurried toward her and took her in his arms. She thought he had good news, but his expression told her otherwise.
"He has gone?" She asked.
"He has. We did not part on good terms, and for that I am sorry. I shall need to go back to the farm within a day or two, make peace with him. He has always done his best for me and I do not want a rift between us." He stopped talking and looked down at her and she saw the love in his eyes. "Did you talk to your father?"
She shook her head.
“I thought I had best wait and see what result you had with yours first. If your father hates mine so much, it could be that the feeling is mutual."
"No one can stop me from marrying, Estelle," he assured her. "But you are very young and of the nobility. I believe the Queen must give her consent to a marriage for you."
She had never considered that. Had the Queen given her consent to Joshua's marriage? She supposed she must have, but what of Alex? She would ask her father these things.
"I am not sure the Queen is overly interested in my family," she said. "It is likely just a formality. At least I hope it is, not ju
st for us but for my brother, Alex."
"Your older brother? He is married?"
"Yes, but he married within his own social class. Alex will not and neither will I."
"So you have decided we are to be married, then," he said with a little smile.
"I have, Sir. I do not wish to argue with my father either, but I do not think he will allow his own past to mar his daughter's happiness. He promised us all a long time ago that his only condition when it comes to choosing a partner is that we loved them and they loved us."
"He sounds a remarkable man."
"He is," she said and she reached up to touch his lips with hers once more. "I am going to ask him today. If he agrees, your father might well be persuaded."
***
She could not wait to get home, to speak to her father about Simon. She imagined his beautiful smile when she told him she had found someone she could love as much as her mother loved him. Whether she would ever be content to wipe away tears Simon might shed for another woman, was yet to be seen and she could only hope it would not arise.
Her parents would be so pleased, and that would please her. When Simon's father saw that, he would realise the past belongs in the past, not here trampling on their children’s future.
Her heart fluttered with excitement as she flung open the door of their sitting room, then her steps halted in surprise. They had a visitor, and all three looked very sombre.
“Lady Frances,” Estelle said, bobbing a quick curtsey.
“Please,” she said, getting to her feet and moving toward Estelle. “It is Mistress Carlisle. I have not been called Lady anything for a very long time.”
“I thought you had returned home with Simon’s father.”
“No. I had to see your mother and father on an important matter. Charles will be back for me.”
Estelle’s mouth pinched in an unattractive obstinacy and she pulled herself up to her full height. She had been raised to be polite to her elders, in all circumstances, but this was too important to stand by convention.
“I know what that matter is,” she said. “You want to stop me and Simon from marrying, you want to keep us apart. Well it will not work and it is not fair. I love him and he loves me. That is all that matters; that is what my father always told me was all that mattered.”
She noticed her father had turned toward the fireplace, she noticed Frances glancing at Lady Summerville.
“I will go now,” she said. “I will wait for Charles to return.”
Estelle watched her go, watched her father’s fists clench over the stone of the fireplace, watched his forehead resting against that stone, his body tense. Something was very wrong here and it was more than an ancient feud between Simon’s father and Estelle’s. They were going to refuse permission, that was obvious. She could scarcely believe it, after everything her father had said, they were going to refuse their consent, make her marry some high born viscount she hardly knew.
"I know his father blames mine for the death of his wife," she said. "But that should not concern us, surely. It is in the past and..."
“Estelle, please,” Lady Summerville said. “Wait outside for a few moments. We will not be long; we will discuss this between us.”
“Mother, whatever Mistress Carlisle told you…”
"Leave us!" Her mother repeated yet again, raising her voice almost to a shout.
Her hand rested tenderly on her husband’s back and she stroked him soothingly. Estelle had never heard her raise her voice before, never in all her sixteen years on this earth. She turned and fled from the room, tears beginning to form in her eyes. She sat down outside the door, leaving it slightly open so that she could hear what they had to say, but her mother followed her and closed it.
She heard footsteps coming downstairs and looked up to see her brother, a frown of concern on his handsome face.
"Susannah is giving birth," he began then stopped as he noticed his sister’s tears. "What is it?"
"They are going to refuse," she mumbled. "They are going to refuse consent to my marrying Simon."
"How can you know that?"
"You were not there. You did not see their faces, the expressions. Father was furious and Mother shouted at me. She actually raised her voice to me." She held out her hand and he took it. "Joshua, what did I do? They promised. He promised."
***
Bethany felt helpless. She stroked Richard’s arm, clung close to him, but what she wanted more than anything was to take this hurt away from him. She never wanted him to be hurt, but she could do nothing to soothe him, not this time.
"It is my conceit, my lust that has brought her to this," he said.
"You cannot blame yourself, my love," she replied. "No one could have foreseen that she would ever meet him, much less fall in love with him. Sir Geoffrey was a horrible man, callous and full of hate. Who would have expected his brother to have a decent streak?"
“I should have kept a closer eye on her,” he said bitterly. “I should never have told her she could choose for herself. I should have arranged a match for her.”
"If you had, I could not have loved you so much."
"We should have sent her away like other people. Is it too late? Adrian would take her. He is a good man and he has connections. Or Lord Roxham; she seemed to get on well with his son. We could make some requests, hope all the eligible young men are not already taken."
"I think it is too late to change direction now; she will never forgive us.”
“That would be better than her present proposal.”
“How could we have foreseen that she would fall in love with the one man in England she cannot marry."
They had no idea that Joshua had quietly opened the door and now they both had their ears to it and had heard every word. Estelle looked at her brother in horror. What were they talking about? Send her away, arrange a marriage for her against her will? Joshua could only frown at her, just as puzzled as she was by this turn events had taken.
She turned and clasped Joshua's hand; she was trembling and horrified.
"What do you suppose that means?" She asked him. He shook his head, mystified. "Forgive me. You have enough to worry you with your wife close to delivering your child. You do not need to be worrying about your sister as well. I am sorry I cannot give you any support."
"Think nothing of that," he replied.
She strode quickly toward the main doors, leaving Joshua still eavesdropping on their parents' conversation. He did not enquire as to her intentions; he knew where she was going.
***
The ride to Winterton House was a blur. Her mind was whirling, full of questions, full of possible answers, full of a future she did not want. The very idea of her parents, her wonderful liberal parents, talking about arranging a marriage for her, was the stuff of nightmares. It could not have really happened, could it? She would wake and find it was all just a bad dream.
She tied her horse to a tree and ran to the house. The door was open and she rushed inside to find Simon standing beside the window, staring out across the meadows.
He turned quickly when he heard her and she threw herself into his arms.
"They are going to refuse," she told him through her tears.
"Darling," he replied, stroking her face. "It is no surprise to me. I did not believe for one moment your father would agree to a marriage with me."
"It has nothing to do with status," she protested. "You should have seen them, you should have heard them. Your stepmother was there, telling them all about it before I had a chance to say anything.”
“Frances? My father must have asked her to do that. She would not interfere otherwise.”
“Mother said they needed to discuss it, but I could tell there was nothing to discuss. Their minds were made up."
"I have been thinking," he said. "Perhaps it is the religion thing. If your father was an advisor to Queen Mary, he must be Catholic. My family are fiercely Protestant; he must know that. My mother gave her
life for those beliefs."
"No," she said, shaking her head. "It is only my father who is Catholic and he no longer practices that faith. He has no interest in religion any more, he does not care about it."
"What then?"
"They are talking about sending me away to be married to someone I do not know."
"Surely, that is what the nobility usually do."
"Not us," she replied stubbornly. "My father does not believe in arranged marriages, he never has. At least that is what he always told us."
"What can we do?" He asked. "I am not even sure if we could find a priest to marry us if we were to run away. Would it be legal? Would I be in trouble for marrying you without the Queen's consent?"
She shook her head, still stunned, still full of so much hurt she could barely think, much less speak.
"There is one thing we could do," she said impulsively.
"What?"
"One thing we could do that will force his hand, so that he will have to let us marry."
He pulled away slightly, looking down at her with a frown.
"I am not sure I can do that," he replied. "It would be dishonourable. My father would be horrified; he may never speak to me again."
She reached up and kissed him, a kiss he returned with such passion she could barely resist him.
"I love you, Simon," she said between kisses. "I love you so much. I cannot allow them to part us because of their own hatreds. It is not fair."
"Let us wait," he said reasonably, pushing her away. "Let them discuss it as your mother said, let us wait and see what conclusion they come to. It was a shock I expect, learning that you want to bring the son of your father's worst enemy into his family. If we cannot persuade them, we can elope to the Americas as Frances did all those years ago."
"They said you are the only man in England I cannot marry," she told him.
He was silent for a few moments, thoughtful, trying to guess what those words could possibly mean.
"That sounds a little drastic," he replied with a frown. "That sounds very much more serious than our fathers being deadly enemies."
HOLY POISON: Boxed Set: The Complete Series 1-6 Page 97