The Flawed Mistress (The Summerville Journals) (13 page)

   
"It is all right, My Lady," the innkeeper remarked.  "We
all loved him, and I think you did too.  You are as entitled to your grief
as any of us, if not more so."

   
I thanked him and drained the tankard,
then
I summoned
enough courage to ride to see Lady Summerville.

   
I rode slowly, not only because it was damp and misty, but because I had no
real desire to get there at all.  I hated confrontation and I was going to
meet a woman who believed I had been giving to her husband that which only a
wife should give.

   
How would I ever convince her that was not the
case, that
never could be the case?  Especially if she saw in my eyes how much I
loved him, how much I grieved for him.

   
But as I approached the house the sight that met my eyes first made me believe
I was still in bed and dreaming, but then when I realised I was awake, made my
heart dance with joy.  Through the windows at the front of the house, I
saw Richard, holding his wife in his arms once more.  He looked up and saw
me and smiled then he mouthed a 'thank you'. 

   
He was not a ghost, he was real flesh and blood and I wanted to jump off my
horse and run inside to fling myself at him.

   
But that privilege was hers, not mine.  I turned my horse around and rode
back to my own house.

   
It was later that day that Louisa came running in with the news she had just
heard in the village.

   
"The Queen is dead, My Lady," she said excitedly.  "That is
why His Lordship escaped.  We have a new Queen now, Elizabeth, and she has
spared all her sister's enemies."

   
"Elizabeth,"
I sighed. 
"Another protestant on the throne."

   
"Yes, My Lady," Louisa said with a smile. 

   
I had never really wondered about the religious leanings of Lucy or her. 
I did not care either way so I assumed they felt the same.  But I knew
what Mary's death meant to me.  It meant no more burnings, it meant I was
no longer in danger of being found and charged with treason, it meant Lord
Summerville once again where he belonged, with his wife, making more babies.

   
It meant that I would have to leave.  I could perhaps return to the
Finsbury house now that I was not in any danger, but I would try to talk to
Richard about it when I got the chance.

   
I had the chance sooner than I thought I would, for he arrived at my door that
evening, with his wife at his side.

CHAPTER
FOURTEEN

Bethany
's
Journal

   
I have never felt so ecstatically happy in my entire life than I was that day.
I woke up thinking that I had nothing, believing myself a widowed pauper, only
to have Richard back in my arms, and telling me he loved me, yes
me,
not
the beautiful Rachel, but me.  He said she meant nothing to him, but I did
not really believe that and even if I had, that just made it worse somehow,
that he had been bedding her all this time if she really meant nothing to him. 
But I had to put her out of my mind; I had to thank her for the risk she took
and pray that she was able to move on with her life without Richard in
it.  I may learn later that I would have to share him with her, but even
that did not seem to matter too much that day.  If she loved him even half
as much as I did, it would break her heart to give him up.

   
I did not want him to know how Anthony had spoken to me.  It seemed petty
somehow that I should spoil his homecoming with complaints.  I knew why Anthony
resented me so much and I could understand it a little now I knew why my
husband had presented another woman to the Queen as his wife.  Anthony was
right - if I could have only followed his wishes and beliefs, as I promised to
do, he would have stayed safe.  He would never have been imprisoned in the
Tower, never have faced the prospect of the executioner's axe.

   
"Richard," I heard Anthony's incredulous voice from the doorway and
sat up from where I had been pressed against Richard's chest.  "Richard!" 
He repeated, coming forward and shaking his hand.  Then as Richard got to
his feet to greet him, he took him in a hug of sheer joy.

   
"Mary is dead," I told him.  "Richard is home with
us."

   
I emphasised
the us
, by way of an olive branch, but he
did not look grateful.  In fact, he scowled at me as though I had no right
to be there.  Perhaps he would never forgive me, but I could do nothing
about it and I was far more concerned that Richard should forgive me than him.

   
But as I suspected, Anthony's expression was not lost on Richard.  He
noticed at once the tension in the air.

   
He took my hand to pull me up,
then
started to move
toward the door.

   
"I will talk to you later," he told Anthony quietly.  "For
now, I need to be alone with my wife."

   
Holding my hand in the warmth of his own, he led me to our bedchamber while I
felt Anthony's hostile gaze following me.  He undressed me, just as he had
in the first days of our marriage, kissing my lips, my neck, my breasts,
lifting me on to the bed and loving me once more. 

   
As I lie in his arms, feeling his bare flesh against mine, his hardened nipples
pressing into my own, I knew that whatever had gone before, it was over
now.  I wanted to stay there forever, just lying in his arms.

   
"What is the matter with Anthony?"  He asked at last.

   
"Nothing," I replied.  "He is not happy with me, but he
will get over it I am sure."

   
"He had better."

   
"You must not blame him, Richard," I said, looking up into his
eyes.  "He adores you and he believes that I was to blame for putting
your life at risk.  He is right and I shall never forgive myself."

   
"No, he is not right.  I will have my wife treated with respect in
her own house, or there will not be space for both of you."

   
I pressed my face against his chest and kissed it.

   
"I do not wish to be the cause of an argument between you," I
protested.  "Let it go, please."

   
"We shall see," he replied then gave a deep sigh before he went
on.  "Bethany,
I have a confession.  I lied to you earlier."

   
lied
?
I thought frantically,
About
what?  Was he going to tell me he did
not love me after all, that he had only said that for his own ends?  Was
he going to say he was not staying, that he was going back to London to be with her?

   
I wanted to find some clue in his expression, but I was afraid to
look.  I just held on tighter in case he tried to slip away.

   
"Lied?"  I asked hesitantly.

   
"Yes," he said. 
"About Rachel."

   
Oh, God!  So he does love that woman after all!

   
 "I want us to have an honest, fresh start, no secrets, nothing to
come between us. When I said she meant nothing to
me, that
was a lie.  But I need to tell you about her and I need you to believe me,
because I will be breaking a sacred vow by telling anyone without her
permission."

   
I looked up at him then, very much afraid of his next words.

   
"What you have to believe, first and foremost, is that I love you and that
I have always been faithful to you, since the day we first met."

   
I smiled, wondering how he expected me to believe that.

   
"You have lived with a very beautiful woman all this time, one who was
your mistress before I came along according to Anthony.  Do you really
think I will believe that you were not tempted?"

   
"I did not say I was not tempted," he replied with a little
smile.  "I said it did not happen; it has never happened. 
Rachel and I have never been lovers, not in all the years I have known
her."

   
"But Anthony told me she lived here with you," I said.

   
"She did, but not as my mistress although that is what he was meant to
believe.  That was a rumour we put about to protect her.  Her story
is a tragic one, and I know she wants no one to know it.  That is why it
is so important that you believe what I tell you and keep her secret.  She
is different, and she is afraid of people gossiping about her."  He
paused then leaned down and kissed me.  "Do you want to hear
it?"

   
I nodded.  Of course I wanted to hear it.  If he could tell me
anything that would convince me that their relationship had been purely
platonic, then of course I wanted to hear it.

   
So he told me about her, about her childhood horror, about her two marriages,
about the protection he had given her and how the deception which protected me
was her idea.  When he had finished, there were tears running down my face
and all I could see in my mind's eye was that poor little girl, the horror she
must have suffered and at the hands of her own father as well.  I had
believed my father uncaring for wanting to marry both me and my sister off to
anyone for a title, but he would never have done anything like that.

   
Then he told me that she did not live in London
but here, next door to Summerville land, that she moved away because she had
not wanted me to hear the gossip and believe that he kept his mistress close
by.  She gave up his protection out of respect for me.

   
"Do you believe me?"  He asked at last.

   
"Could you have made that up?"  I replied.

   
I reached up and kissed him tenderly, but my mind was in a whirl of memories,
good and bad.  This man was an enigma, a puzzle.

   
I had made him angry enough that he imprisoned me to fend for myself in that
freezing cottage, yet he could do all this for Rachel to protect her.  I
felt that familiar dart of jealousy once more but I recalled his reasons for
keeping me as he did.  It seems she got the more comfortable part of the
bargain, but what I got I deserved; she did not.

   
"She was very angry with me for what I did to you," he went on.
"I did not think she would ever speak to me again."

   
"I understand why you did what you did," I assured him. 
"Because I made you lose your temper.  Do you remember telling me you
had an uncontrollable temper?"

   
"I do."

   
"You told me a lot of things that day that I chose to ignore.  I
betrayed you and I do not blame you for being so angry with me.  I did at
the time; I was terrified."

   
"Rachel told me that the reason I was so enraged was because I loved
you, that
no one else could have made me that angry."

   
"Was she right?"

   
"She was," he replied then he kissed me again and we made love once
more before we dressed and reappeared downstairs.

   
Anthony looked up as we approached and I squeezed Richard's hand.

   
"Let it go," I whispered.  "Please."

   
"Bethany
could you leave us, please," he replied.

   
My eyes met his and held his gaze for a few moments, silently pleading with him
to do as I asked, but I could see his decision was made, so I left them alone
but not out of earshot.  I wanted to be sure to hear what was said.

   
"Richard," Anthony began at once, shaking his hand once more. 
"I am so very glad to see you.  We thought you were dead, we thought
we had lost you."

   
"Who is 'we'?"  Richard asked him.

   
"Why me, Rachel........"

   
"And Bethany?"

   
"Yes, of course and Bethany,"
Anthony finally looked concerned at the turn the conversation was taking. 
"She was devastated, Richard.  She even went to the church to buy
masses for the dead."

   
Richard raised his eyebrows and I knew by his expression that my actions had
pleased him.

   
"Did she indeed?" He asked coldly.  "Then you are in
agreement with me that we put the past behind us?"

   
"I am not sure what you mean," Anthony protested.  "What
lies has she told you?"

   
Richard's face darkened in fury and I wanted to run and get between them,
before he decided to strike his young cousin.  I did not want this.

   
"Oh, I think you know perfectly well what I mean, Anthony," Richard
replied in a cold voice.  "I saw the way you looked at her.  Far
from reporting your attitude, she wants me to let it go, but that is up to
you.  I will have my wife treated with respect.  Do you
understand?"

   
"She betrayed you," Anthony argued.  "She almost cost you
your life."

   
"She had her reasons," Richard answered.  "She was not
solely to blame.  Do you understand?"

   
Anthony nodded but he did not look happy.

   
"Will you go to see
Rachel.
  She will be
grieving as well," Anthony asked.  "Or shall I tell her?"

   
"She knows already," Richard replied.  "I saw her earlier
from the window and she saw me.  I imagine she had ridden here to comply
with my wishes, as you should be doing, but seeing me alive and well, she thought
there was no longer any need."

   
Rachel had come here, while I was still reeling from having him back in my
arms.  I could easily guess what wishes he had asked her to convey to
me.  He wanted her to tell me her secret and that is why she had
come.  Her secret that she never, ever wanted anyone to know, she was
willing to tell to me because he asked her to, because his last wish was for me
to believe that he had been faithful.

   
I felt a swell of gratitude for this beautiful woman who had haunted my dreams
for so long.  I could no longer hate
her, that
was for certain.

   
I stepped into the great hall then to interrupt the tension between the two
cousins, but I could see they were both still very angry.

   
Anthony gave me a scathing glare, and Richard took a threatening step toward
him.

   
"Please," I cried out.  "Please do not argue about
me."

   
"I have no wish to," Anthony replied.  "I would like to
understand why my cousin should forgive such a betrayal as yours."

   
"You have no need to understand," Richard told him.  "The
decision is mine alone."

   
Anthony was shaking his head and still looking at me with loathing in his eyes,
as though he thought I had somehow forced his cousin into taking me back. 
I wondered what on earth he thought I could possibly do that would persuade my
husband to do anything against his will.

   
"I am sorry, Richard," Anthony replied with a note of regret. 
"I can no longer live under the same roof as a traitor like this."

   
I watched Richard's expression turn to contempt as he stood watching his cousin
for a few moments before he replied.

   
"Very well," he said at last.  "You had best leave in the
morning, earlier if possible."

   
Anthony looked taken aback, as though he had not expected him to put me
first.  Did he not understand even now what we meant to each other?

   
"You are really taking her side?"  He protested.  "You
have raised me, been like a father to me, and you would take the side of a
treacherous heretic over me?"

   
I saw Richard's fist clench dangerously and wondered just where this was going
to lead.

   
"My wife," he said, "is a protestant, not a heretic.  And I
have not only forgiven her, we have forgiven each other."

   
"And what of Rachel?"
  Anthony demanded
with a glance of satisfaction at me. "Will you simply abandon her
now?  Is this a day when I must learn that you will abandon anyone who
gets in your way?"

   
"You have no idea about Rachel," Richard shouted.  "You had
best not speak her name before me, after everything she has done for us."

   
That is when I made up my mind.  I knew he would not abandon her, that he
would do what she wished and I badly needed to know what that was. 

   
I stepped between them and turned to face my husband.

   
"I want to meet her," I said.

***

   
I was very nervous as the carriage took us the short distance to Rachel's
house.  During that journey, Richard held my hand and told me that this
beautiful
woman
of whom I had been so jealous for so
long, was his dearest friend and he hoped she would be mine as well.