Blaze Wyndham (43 page)

They had reached the isolated stall in the rear of the earl’s stables, to find the stableman already awaiting them. “Saw you coming,” he said by way of explanation, and grabbing at Delight, he shoved his hand into her bodice.

For a brief moment she allowed him the liberty, and then she pushed him away, exclaiming, “You will tear my gown, you great oaf. You stink of onions, and besides, you are bruising me!” Turning to Henriette, she snapped, “When you have finished sporting yourself, I will be in the gardens. Have a plan for me or I shall tell my sister of your behavior with this rustic.” Then she stamped away.

The stableman grinned after her. She was a spitfire, that one, even if she was half-mad. He would enjoy spitting her on his big cock, but he knew if he did, she would cry rape, and he could find himself at the end of the executioner’s rope. No woman was worth a man’s life.

“What are you looking at, you great beast?” The French whore was glowering at him.

“Nothing, lovey,” he said, and yanked her, giggling, down into the straw.

Delight paced the gardens, where small primroses in their cheerful pinks and yellows brightened the landscape. The lawns were turning a soft green, and at its edge the River Wye flowed blue and free of ice. How much longer was she to bear it? How much longer could she watch Blaze and Anthony together? Of late Blaze was changing before her very eyes. Becoming softer, casting long, thoughtful glances at Tony.

Her poor Tony. Forced into a marriage with a woman he did not love or want. Forced to accept the king’s leavings.
But soon
. Soon she would rid him of his royal castoff, of the woman who stood between them. Soon it would be Delight who sat beside Anthony at the high board in the hall. Soon it would be Delight who slept in the countess’s apartments, and bore the precious and long-awaited Langford heirs. She would give him the especial gift of her virginity, and from her chaste love for him would come the next generation of Wyndhams.

“You must not look like such a thundercloud, Delight,” warned Henriette, rejoining her friend.

“Have you a plan?” demanded Delight. She had better, or as God is my judge, I will tell Tony about her lewd behavior! Once I am married to him, she must go if she has not already been married off to some poor unsuspecting soul.

“But, of course,
chérie.
I have had it in my mind for weeks, but now is the time to put it into effect,” responded Henriette. Delight was nearing the breaking point, she could easily see.

“What is it?”

“You are to make your sister a very special gift, Delight. A gift to thank her for her kindness to you these past months.”

“What kind of a gift?” Delight said suspiciously. Was Henriette playing some sort of trick on her?

“A nightrail of the finest and the sheerest silk. There are several bolts of just such fabric in the storage rooms. We will choose the color that is the most flattering to Madame Blaze, and I will even help you with it. My embroidery was much in demand amongst the queen’s ladies. When the gown is finished it shall be impregnated with a special poison that I know how to make. When your sister wears the garment, the poison will be absorbed by her skin. She will die. The death will appear to be a natural one, and voila! M’lord Anthony is yours!”

The first thing that struck Delight about Henriette’s plan was that it was so simple. She was not shocked at the idea of killing her sister. In her half-mad mind her own need for Anthony far outweighed her basic morality. Then a thought came to her. “If we treat the gown with your poison, what is to prevent the poison from killing us when we give Blaze the gown?” she said.

“I will make us a special hand lotion that, when dried upon our hands, will protect us from the poison in the handling of the nightrail. We must, however, wash our hands immediately afterward.”

“Let us begin today,” said Delight. “It will take several weeks after I choose the fabric to design and cut it, sew it, and prepare it properly. We will have just barely enough time, Henriette.”

“That is why I will help you,
chérie,
so that you may finish in time. You will present your gift to Madame Blaze the day that you leave. That way you will be gone long before she dies. I will see that she wears the gown that very night, or the next. You can trust me,
chérie,
in this as you have trusted me in
other
things.” Henriette smiled conspiratorially at Delight, but the girl’s mind was already far away imagining her wedding day to Anthony Wyndham.

The days melted into weeks, and the spring deepened. Palm Sunday came, and then Easter. In the waning days of the Lenten season Delight and Henriette had worked diligently upon the gift for Blaze. Heads together in the family hall as they sewed, they had made a pretty picture, but they would show their work to no one.

“It is to be a surprise!” said Henriette.

“A surprise for my sister,” Delight told Lady Dorothy. “She has been so kind to me despite my behavior toward her. I do not know if I am quite ready to forgive her for stealing Anthony away from me, but I would have no more animosity between us now that my parents are to arrange a match for me that will take me from England. I may never see my family once I am married. I would not leave with hard feelings between Blaze and myself.”

The words were those of a reasonable woman, but Delight’s eyes told a different story. Still, Lady Dorothy could not fault the girl, but she had an uncomfortable feeling each time she saw Delight and Henriette giggling together. Henriette Wyndham. The wench was a far slyer puss than Lady Dorothy had first seen. Blaze had been right. Marriage would be the only solution, and, Doro thought, to an older man who would not be so taken in by the girl that he would not beat her when she needed it, and Lady Dorothy suspected she needed it very much.

Now with Easter past, the day for Delight’s departure came, and Lord Morgan arrived to collect his daughter. Everything was in readiness. Delight’s trunks were packed and loaded into the baggage cart. As for Delight, she had declined a carriage, preferring to ride by her father’s side. The good-byes were said all around, and, the sun barely up, father and daughter prepared to leave.

“I have a gift for you,” Delight said to Blaze. “I know that we have been much estranged these past months, but my anger is cooling, and I would not wed in a foreign land while there is bitterness between us. I have worked these past weeks to make you a special night garment. Henriette has helped me with the embroidery. She will bring my gift to you tonight. Wear it in happiness, and think of me when you do,” finished Delight, and then she hugged her sister, her smile bright, but the smile did not extend to her eyes.

It had been decided by the two conspirators at the last minute that Henriette would bring Blaze the gown that night, as Delight was truly afraid of touching it now that it had been impregnated with the French girl’s poison. Henriette realized that to argue with Delight in this would only be to arouse her suspicions. Delight had worried about the possibility of Tony being poisoned, but Henriette assured her friend that she would slip a sleeping draft into Anthony’s wine cup that evening, and he would appear to be drunk. He would seem so drunk that he would be put into his own bed, and awaken in the morning to the sad news of his wife’s sudden passing.

Blaze hugged her younger sister lovingly. “Dear heart,” she said, “I have never wanted you angry with me. I am sorry that you could not have your life as you would have wanted it. Give the young Irish lordling a chance, Delight. The Irish are a charming race, I am told.”

Delight lastly hugged Henriette, and as the two girls parted, a look shot between them that made Lady Dorothy wonder what it was that they had been up to, and why it was worrying her so.

Lord Morgan and Delight rode from RiversEdge through the two villages of Michaelschurch and Wyeton. The Langford ferry took them easily and swiftly across the river, and they moved off at a leisurely pace until the river disappeared behind a hill. The road to Ashby stretched before them, winding through the sprouting fields of barley and hops; past the orchards now so heavily abloom with pink-and-white apple blossoms that the portent of a bumper crop was already in evidence; past meadows filled with frisky young lambs who scampered wildly about, bumping heads and madly chasing one another; past ponds ruled over by regal white swans who swam proudly in formation with their newly hatched young. The day was incredibly fair, the sky a bright and cloudless blue.

Lord Morgan had assumed that his daughter would be sad at leaving RiversEdge yet her countenance was a pleasing one—nay, it was almost merry. “Are you glad to be returning home, Delight, or do you smile because of Blaze’s happy news?” he asked her.

Delight turned her head to him, caution and curiosity both upon her face now. “What
happy
news?” she demanded.

“Ahh,” he answered her, “I had thought that Blaze might have told you, but perhaps she chose to wait until you had been betrothed, and now I have spoilt it.”

“
What happy news?
” Delight repeated, her voice now holding a note of nervousness.

“Blaze and Anthony are expecting their first child sometime in the late autumn. She tells me she feels the same way that she felt carrying her little son that died, and so she is certain she carries a boy. Is that not happy news? Anthony is ecstatic with happiness!”

At her father’s words sanity burst like a bubble in Delight’s brain. In but a few seconds all her hate for Blaze was destroyed, and the full realization of what she had planned rose up to overwhelm her like a powerful wave. With a shriek she cried, “Dear God, what have I done?” and fell from her horse to the ground senseless.

Lord Morgan leapt from his own mount while calling the little traveling party to a halt. Kneeling by his daughter’s side, he ascertained that there were no broken bones, but try as he might, he was not able to arouse her from her stupor. He moved her out of the sun to a place beneath a shade tree. Finally, when an hour had gone by, Delight began to show signs of regaining consciousness. Lord Morgan forced some strong wine from his traveling pouch between her lips, and she managed to swallow it. Slowly the color began to return to her pale face, and she opened her eyes.

“What have you done, Delight?” her father asked quietly. “You must tell me what you have done.”

“Tony doesn’t love her,” Delight whispered. “He does not! He only wed her because he promised Edmund, and the king made him do so when he tired of Blaze as his mistress.”

“Anthony loves Blaze very much, Delight,” said her father gently. “Why do you not see it, child? I am going to tell you something that even the king does not know. Edmund exacted no promise from Tony. Edmund was killed instantly. Anthony, however, has loved Blaze from the moment he first saw her. When his uncle died he saw his opportunity to finally marry her himself. Eventually his aspirations were realized because he boldly went to the king and dared to tell him that false tale of a dying man’s wish. Who was to say he was lying? That is why he could never settle his heart upon another woman, Delight.
Even you
.”

Delight began to weep piteously.

“You must tell me what you have done, my child. You must tell me quickly if your act has endangered any member of our family,” Lord Morgan persisted.

“I have conspired to murder my sister,” Delight sobbed. “Dear Lord Christ! I have attempted murder!”

Robert Morgan felt as if a cold hand was clutching at his heart. His younger daughter was tottering dangerously between sanity and total madness. He could not drive her the wrong way lest he lose both Blaze and Delight. “Tell me, Delight,” he said softly, “tell me how you have planned to kill Blaze.”

“The night garment that I made, Papa,” Delight said, and he could see she was making a strong effort to hold on. “My farewell gift to Blaze, Papa. It is treated with a special poison, and if Blaze wears it she will die by morning.”

“Where is the gown, Delight?”

“Henriette has it in her chamber. She will give it to Blaze tonight. Do you not remember, Papa, that I told Blaze so?”

“Tell me how you got such a poison, Delight,” said her father, already suspecting the answer.

“Henriette, Papa. She made it with the help of her servant, Cecile. Henriette is a bad girl, Papa. She fucks with one of the stablemen, Johnny, in a back stall in the stables.”

“How do you know this, child?” He was horrified by the French girl’s consummate evil. Why had no one caught her? She was obviously quite a clever bitch.

“Henriette lets me watch her,” came the terrible reply. “She said if I watched, I would know what Anthony would do to me one day when I was his wife.”

Pray God, thought Lord Morgan, that Mademoiselle Henriette had not corrupted Delight any further, but he had to ask. “Did the stableman ever . . . ?” He hesitated, ashamed to have to ask his daughter the question, but Delight fortunately spared him.

“Oh, no, Papa! I never fucked with anyone. I swear it! I am saving my virginity for my husband,” she said primly, not telling him how the servant had fondled her, however, for she could see the deep distress etched into his handsome face. Poor Papa. He was such a good man.

Lord Morgan pressed a little more wine upon his daughter, and said, “I must return to RiversEdge, my child, and put an end to this affair.”

“Ohh, Papa! I shall die if Blaze and Anthony know what I have done! They will hate me! They will never forgive me, and I am really so sorry! I do not want to hurt Blaze anymore! If I had only known that Anthony really loved her, I swear I would not have done it!”

“Do not fret, my daughter. I will try to do what must be done without your sister learning of your foolishness. Do you feel well enough to ride now?”

“Aye.” She nodded.

“Good,” he replied. “You are to go on to Ashby. We are almost halfway there. I will ride back, not upon the road, but cross-country, for it is faster. I will go to Lord Kingsley’s home, for I can reach it far more quickly cross-country than I can the earl’s ferry crossing. Nicholas will see me across the Wye to RiversEdge. I will be there before nightfall, and I will correct this matter. You must tell me, though, what the nightrail looks like, for the French bitch may try to foil my intent.”