Rosehaven (26 page)

Hastings fetched her mother-in-law some ground daisies
mixed in cold water. She was feeling a bit queasy and quickly mixed a bit of rosemary with honey. It tasted sweet and calmed her belly.

She found Marjorie in the great hall, seated in front of the empty fireplace, sewing a gown. Where had the material come from? Eloise was on the floor beside her, sewing on a small piece of white linen. She heard Marjorie say, “Those are fine stitches, Eloise. You are far more talented than I am.”

“Nay, Marjorie, you are perfect.”

Her laughter rang out. Several servants turned at the sound. Two of them were men. They looked utterly besotted.

“Flatter me not, sweeting, else I might grow ugly just to spite you.”

“Like that night your nose got all big and red?”

“That was something else, sweeting, something I ate that did not agree with me. Ah, Hastings, does Severin’s marten still survive?”

“Aye. Severin keeps Trist with him constantly. He is still weak, but he improves.”

“He is just a silly animal,” Eloise said.

“I thought you believed Trist to be beautiful,” Hastings said, her voice steady.

“I am grown older. I have changed my opinions.”

“Would you like to come riding with me, Eloise?” It was the last olive branch, Hastings thought. She had to try.

There was a leap of excitement in Eloise’s eyes, Hastings wasn’t mistaken about that. She twisted about to look up at Marjorie.

“I think that is an excellent idea, sweeting. Hastings can show you all the places she knew as a child.”

Severin walked into the great hall, drawing off his gauntlets, looking at Hastings. He nodded to Marjorie, but said to his wife, “Gwent just told me that the tablecloth with the spilled wine on it and the remaining wine from my goblet are missing. Whoever took them wasn’t seen.”

“Now we will never know,” Hastings said, as she looked directly at Marjorie. “It had to be poison, probably
it was liquid of poppies. Just a touch of it masks pain. More than a touch brings death. Trist was very lucky.”

“It was you who saved him, Hastings. It was you who took him to the Healer.” There was a soft mewl from within Severin’s tunic. Severin smiled and patted the lump. “He ate MacDear’s broth this morning. He did not vomit it up.”

“I know. MacDear was so pleased he had to tell me himself.”

“He would not leave until he saw that Trist ate the broth.”

Trist mewled again. A paw appeared from between the laces of Severin’s tunic. Hastings laughed, lightly touching her fingertips to Trist’s paw.

“Eloise and I are going riding,” Hastings said.

“Nay, I have no wish to go now,” Eloise said. “My belly hurts.”

“Oh no, sweeting,” Marjorie said, immediately dropping her sewing. She lightly placed her palm on Eloise’s forehead. “What did you eat this morning?”

“Some of MacDear’s bread. It didn’t taste very good. It left my tongue sour.”

It was such an obvious lie that Hastings wanted to slap the child. “The bread tasted fine to me, Eloise. However, if your belly does hurt, then let me give you just a bit of—”

“I would not want to have anything you prepared,” Eloise said, and took a step back. Edgar the wolfhound growled.

“Why not?” Hastings spoke calmly, slowly. What was going on here? Why had Eloise changed so utterly toward her? Eloise’s vicious words about her mother had been one thing, but this was going too far.

“I believe you stole the wine and the tablecloth so no one would ever know what kind of poison you used. I think you added the poison to your wine yourself. I saw you drop something into your goblet. You just didn’t have time to keep Trist from licking it from the cloth.”

“Ah,” Severin said, and stroked his chin. “That is
something that did not occur to me. Tell me, Eloise, why would Hastings poison her own wine?”

Eloise was standing very straight, her face white, her shoulders back. Marjorie was looking down at the sewing in her lap. She said nothing.

“Why, Eloise?” Severin asked again.

The child shouted, “Hastings knows you love Marjorie! She had to do something so you would pity her, so you would cease looking at Marjorie!”

Trist’s head appeared in the opening of Severin’s tunic. He stared at Eloise. The child backed up another step, nearly stumbling. Edgar the wolfhound growled again. “It’s true!” Eloise yelled. “I am not lying. I saw her put the poison in her own goblet!”

She ran from the great hall.

“Who,” Hastings said, still looking directly at Marjorie, “who stole the poisoned wine and the tablecloth?” And why, she wondered, as she walked up the solar stairs. All knew it was poison, so why steal it?

26

“W
HY DID THE CHILD LIE
?”
SEVERIN ASKED LATER THAT
day.

Marjorie looked straight at Severin. “She did not lie. She told me what she had seen right after you and Hastings ran from the great hall with the marten yesterday.”

“That is absurd,” Hastings said over her shoulder as she paced back and forth before Edgar the wolfhound.

“Then why did she not say anything to me?” Severin said.

Marjorie shrugged. “The child still frightens easily. As you know, her father abused her. Her mother treated her as if she were Satan’s get. She was afraid to say anything. She did not understand until later what Hastings had done. She thought nothing about it when she saw Hastings pour some liquid into the goblet. But later—” Marjorie shrugged again. “As I said, she was afraid.”

“I did not pour any liquid into my goblet,” Hastings said, still now, stiff as a pole. “That makes not a whit of sense. I would not kill myself. Does that also mean that I stole the wine and the stained tablecloth?” She was shaking her head. “I am the only one who could have possibly determined what kind of poison was in the wine.”

“Or the Healer,” Marjorie said.

Severin waved his hand for silence. “Tell me, Marjorie, when did Eloise say that Hastings had done this?”

“I do not know. It was near to the dinner hour, I suppose. Hastings, wait, I cannot allow you to hurt Eloise.”

Hastings whirled about, hands fisted at her sides. “Hurt her? Why would I hurt the child? I just want to talk to her.”

“Wait, Hastings,” Severin said, “both of us will speak to Eloise. I want to understand this.”

Trist balled himself up inside Severin’s tunic, mewling softly.

They did not speak to Eloise because they could not find her.

“Later, then,” Severin said. He lightly tapped his fingertip against Hastings’s nose. “The child is mistaken, worry not overly about it.”

“The child lied, Severin.”

“Aye, that is also possible. I must return to the practice field. Remember, I wish to speak to Eloise with you.”

He was afraid that she would hurt the child? Hastings pressed her hands against her belly. She felt a moment of dizziness. She grabbed the high back of Severin’s chair. She said nothing as she watched him stride out of the great hall. She walked slowly outside, down the deep, indented steps. The sun was bright overhead. The day should bring her contentment, but it didn’t.

Marjorie said from behind her, “You saved his marten. You gained more by doing that than by sipping the wine, becoming ill, and gaining pity for yourself.”

She turned to see Marjorie standing beside her, her glorious silver hair loose down her back, sunlight shifting through it. She was so beautiful it hurt to look at her. “What did you say, Marjorie?”

“If Eloise was right, and I do believe her, aye, I certainly do, then you gained more than pity. You saved that damned animal of his. After you dropped the goblet you allowed the marten to drink some of the poisoned wine. You took a chance, Hastings. A big one.”

“You honestly believe I would poison Trist? Marjorie, he could easily have died.”

“A jealous woman will go to any lengths to defeat her rival. Mayhap even risking harm to the babe in her womb, but of course you did spill the wine, didn’t you? You never had any intention of drinking it.”

Hastings leaned down to pet Gilbert the goat’s head. He was chewing on a leather strap that Hastings knew belonged to the armorer. She would have to tell him not to kill the goat. It was possible that she would need Gilbert’s milk for her child. The child Marjorie believed she could possibly risk harming? The thought made her utterly cold inside.

She looked up at Marjorie. “You know, Marjorie, it’s true. I am jealous of you. I do not like myself for it, but it is there, nonetheless. However, soon you will be gone. Soon Eloise’s lie will be shown for what it is—a lie by a child who happens to adore you. She sees that you want to take my place. She would do anything to help you, even deliver this lie. But attend me. You are not my rival. I am the Countess of Oxborough. You are not. Do you wish to be Severin’s leman? If so, that is all you will ever be. Can you be content with that?”

Marjorie laughed, a beautiful, clear laugh. Was there nothing ugly about the woman? Aye, her insides were in question.

“Hastings, Eloise is not the only one who adores me. She is not the only one to wish to make me happy. You believe I will truly go back to Sedgewick?”

“Aye, I do.”

“We will see, will we not? But that is not important. You are looking less old and pale today. Are you ready to resume your duties as mistress of Oxborough?”

“I already have, Marjorie.”

“Ah, here comes Severin’s mad old mother.”

“She is not mad. She is quite recovered now. Even the Healer does not know if it was really madness that afflicted her. It does not matter. Now she is well again.”

“No, she is not. You have not observed her as I have.
There is wildness in her eyes. Her movements are clumsy, frenzied. She needs to be locked away.”

“Your insides are becoming clearer to me now, Marjorie. They are twisted and very black. Mayhap you poisoned my wine.”

For the first time, Marjorie looked as if she would like to strike Hastings. She was breathing hard, her beautiful white hands fists at her sides. “Does Severin tell you how much he loves you when he is deep inside you?” she asked. “Does he kiss your ear as he tells you how beautiful you are? Does he tell you how much he needs you, how much pleasure you give him?”

Hastings turned on her heel and walked toward Lady Moraine. She thought of the vial that sat behind her herb jars in their bedchamber. She would pour the love potion into Severin’s goblet at the evening meal.

“I hear that the silver-haired bitch has come out of the shadows and speaks quite openly to you now, Hastings.”

“Aye, she speaks her mind.”

“Did she promise that she would continue her efforts to murder you so she could marry Severin and take your place here at Oxborough?”

“Nay, the child Eloise accuses me of knocking over the wine goblet and poisoning Trist on purpose. Marjorie said I did it because I believed I would gain Severin’s pity.”

She leaned down to pat Gilbert the goat’s head. He had eaten nearly all the leather. “Hurry,” she said to him. “The armorer could come upon you at any time.”

She straightened, pushing the hair back from her forehead. The afternoon was cool, a clean breeze blowing from the sea. “I have decided to pour the potion into Severin’s wine goblet this evening.”

“Good. Odd, isn’t it, that I never knew of this passion Severin had for Marjorie? Of course, my husband kept me away from my boys, said he didn’t want them softened. That was before my brains curdled.”

“Your brains were never curdled. It was something else. But I pray the potion continues to work.”

Lady Moraine laughed and lightly slapped Hastings’s
arm. “The Healer can do anything. You have always trusted her. Don’t cease now.”

But Hastings was shaking her head. “Nay, I won’t. Do you know that I don’t believe I will use the love potion just yet. Maybe not ever. What I’ve got to do is get Marjorie returned to Sedgewick.”

Hastings saw to her household duties, directing the servants to lime the jakes, which had grown particularly noxious with the wind blowing from the east. She oversaw the wool weaving by three women of excellent skill who had been trained by her mother so many years before; she spoke to MacDear of the meals they would have for the next several days; she pulled up weeds in her herb garden and tied up her columbine. The sun was bright and hot overhead. Her side hurt just a bit; she rose to stretch. MacDear, who scarce ever left the kitchen, was at her elbow, his huge bulk blocking out the sun. “The marten ate all the broth, but still I worry. He does not run as quickly as he used to. Is he all right, Hastings?”

She smiled up at him, feeling the pulling lessen in her side. “Aye, he grows stronger, even from this morning until now. He ate all of your broth, you saw that, and he ate a bit of Severin’s bread. Severin will not let him out of his sight. I believe he even practices with his javelin with Trist burrowed deep in his tunic. He will be racing again very soon.”

MacDear fidgeted a moment, leaning down to lightly touch his big fingers to some allium. “It is good to have you back, Hastings.”

“Aye. Did you not work well with Marjorie?”

MacDear sighed and clapped his palms over his chest. “Ah, that one is more glorious than the first evening star.”

Even you, MacDear,
she thought, and wanted to cry.

“But you know, Hastings, she is cold, that one. She plots and schemes and smiles that beautiful smile all the while.” He leaned closer, but not that much closer because his belly was so big. “Watch her, Hastings. All know of the poisoned wine. Many believe she put the poison in your goblet, despite her beauty.”

“I don’t want to watch her. I want her to leave.”

MacDear shrugged, turned, and yelled at one of the kitchen boys who was coming toward him, carrying a loaf of bread, “Hugh, you cocky little maggot, did you burn that bread?” He said to Hastings in a much lower voice, “Then send her back. Do it, Hastings. Do it today.”

As she walked back into the great hall, her head bowed, deep in thought, she realized she wanted Severin to love her, regardless of Marjorie or any other glorious creature who just might cross his path. She wanted him to see only her. And she didn’t want to use a damned love potion to bring that about.

Her side still hurt. Too much bending and stretching in her garden. She hugged herself as she walked up the solar stairs to her bedchamber. Two more days and the Healer would cut out the black stitches. Then Severin would punish her for running away from Oxborough. Perhaps then too he would come back to her bed.

Severin sat in his high-backed chair. He looked imperious. He looked cold and stern. Normally when he dealt with Eloise, he came down on his haunches to be at her eye level; he softened his voice. Not this time.

He said, “Come here, Eloise. Don’t dawdle. I have not much time to spend with you.”

He said nothing more, merely began to tap his fingertips against the arms of his chair. Hastings sat beside him, her hands in her lap. She saw Marjorie in the shadows of the great hall just beyond the mammoth fireplace. Severin had told her that he wanted to speak to Eloise alone.

She had merely nodded, not arguing with him.

Hastings waited.

Eloise crept several feet closer, her head down. She was twisting her fingers together. Severin did not appear to be moved by the child’s obvious distress.

“You accused my wife of poisoning herself. You will tell me why you said this.”

The child began to shake. She sobbed.

“Enough!” Severin roared. “I will not have any more
of your nonsense, Eloise. You made a grave charge against Hastings. You will answer it or else you will displease me mightily.”

To Hastings’s surprise, Eloise hiccuped once, then raised her head. She stared at Hastings. Her young face, so smooth and clear, suddenly twisted. “I saw her,” she yelled, pointing her finger at Hastings. “Aye, I saw her sneak into the hall, looking to see if anyone was about, then she poured this powder into her own goblet.”

“When?” Severin asked, sitting forward in his chair. “When did you observe Hastings doing this?”

“Yesterday, just before the dinner.”

“What was she wearing when she did this?”

“Wearing?” Eloise suddenly jerked about to search out Marjorie.

“What, Eloise? Look at me!”

The child looked ready to burst into tears. She looked ready to flee.

“I don’t remember,” Eloise whispered, her head down, her feet scuffing the reeds.

Edgar the wolfhound snarled, then quieted again.

“It was only yesterday, Eloise.”

“She was wearing the gown she wore to the meal. Aye, that was it. It was that yellow color that makes her look sallow.”

Severin leaned forward only to have Eloise shrink back. “Hold still,” he barked at her. “Now, you will listen to me, Eloise. I have never seen this hall empty of people. You say that no one was in the great hall, no one except you and Hastings?”