Chapter 13

Chapter 13

In mid-March the spring came quite abruptly and the roads, which a mere fortnight ago had been made impassable by the snows, were quite suddenly free of snow and awash with mud. Lord Morgan came from Ashby to escort Delight home. He was engaged in negotiations with an Irish lord who wanted an English wife of good stock for his heir. The Irish lord and his son would be coming from Ireland in May to meet Delight. There was to be no more nonsense tolerated in Delight's case. She would be married this summer, if not to the Irish suitor, then to another suitor with whom she could be matched. Delight would be eighteen on the seventh of June, and she was too old now to be allowed her childish whims and crotchets.

Delight pouted prettily at her father, and begged, "Please, Papa! Let me stay at RiversEdge until after Easter." She did not protest the proposed marriage. Why anger her father whining about a proposed Irish marriage that would never be, especially when she wanted a favor from him?

"Oh, please, m'lord Morgan," Henriette echoed Delight's plea. "Please let Delight stay until Easter. I shall be so very lonely without her!"

Robert Morgan did not understand his sweet Delight's friendship with this French girl. There was something about Henriette Wyndham that troubled him, although he could not quite put his finger on what it was. Still, Delight had not howled with outrage at the news of a proposed marriage. If her previous closeness to Blaze seemed gone, and her attitude toward her eldest sister cool, her friendship with the Wyndham cousin had obviously matured her, and her stay at RiversEdge this winter had not been for naught.

"If it is all right with you, Blaze," Lord Morgan said, "then I will let Delight stay a few more weeks."

"Ohh, please, Madame Blaze," Henriette pleaded, "please!"

"Of course Delight may stay," said Blaze, who actually wished nothing more than to send her younger sister home as quickly as possible. "Mayhap when she goes you will let our Henriette visit."

"Indeed yes!" said Robert Morgan with false joviality. "After Delight's match has been settled we shall be happy to have Mistress Henriette come for a visit." But not before, he silently vowed to himself. I would not put it past that young vixen to steal the Irish lordling that I have found for my daughter!

They had no sooner waved her father farewell than Delight was demanding from her friend, "What plan have you made, Henriette? I have but a few weeks left, and then I shall find myself wed with some strange and wild Irishman. My father will not let me get away this time, I know it! He means to marry me off for certain!" Her voice was high-pitched, and her eyes had a haunted look about them.

"Come, chérie, come." Henriette caught at Delight's hand and hurried her into the stables. "You must not get yourself all excited, and fret. Let us find my Johnny, and he will soothe us both."

"I do not know if I should," Delight considered.

"You have said that every time since the first time you let him play with your titties. Why do you fret, chérie? Your virginity is as intact as the day you were born. Of course it does not have to be if you do not want it to, chérie. Johnny is like a good stud stallion. He can be put to several mares in an afternoon, and still gallop off in fine form."

"No," said Delight. "I am not as confident as you in my ability to pretend a virginity that does not exist. I will keep my innocence until I wed Tony."

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."

"It is pale mauve silk, Papa, and we embroidered violets upon the bodice and sleeves in a lavender silk thread. I chose the color because there was just enough material in the bolt for my purposes, but none extra. When Blaze puts it on, the poison will begin to be absorbed into her skin, and once it all is, the gown is safe for unshielded hands to touch again. Henriette has a special hand cream to keep her safe tonight."

He nodded. "Get on your horse, child," he said, helping her to mount again. "I have not much time, but do not fear, I will be in time!"

They had been stopped almost two hours now, and, his horse well-rested, Lord Morgan set off for his Kingsley son-in-law's home. He paced his mount carefully, for he knew the importance of reaching his destination quickly and safely. God forbid his animal put his foot into a rabbit hole and leave him helpless. It was with great relief, and a prayer of thanks, that he finally reached Kirkwood: Dismounting, he hurried into the house to Nicholas Kingsley. To his relief, Blythe was nowhere to be seen as his son-in-law hurried into the library to greet him.

"Warn your servants not to mention my being here," he told Nicholas. "Not even Blythe." Then Lord Morgan went on to explain the situation. He concluded by saying, "Blaze must not know."

"And Anthony?" asked Nicholas.

"I have no choice but to tell him, for his French cousin must die else she attempt once again to harm my daughters. I do not believe that she merely aided Delight in this scheme. I believe she plotted it, using my child's unrequited love for Tony. I think that she meant to have him for herself. I cannot leave her alive under the circumstances, and if I am to kill her, Anthony must understand why."

Nicholas Kingsley nodded. "Let us go," he said. "The sun must not set upon this woman lest the powers of darkness aid her in escaping our justice."

The two men hurried from the house and down to the riverbank, where Lord Kingsley's barge awaited them. The river was calm in the late-afternoon sun, and they were quickly rowed across. The two men walked swiftly up the lawns of RiversEdge and into the house.

"Find the earl and bring him to us in his library," said Lord Morgan. "No one else is to know that we are here. Do you understand?"

The servant nodded, and exited the room. In a very few minutes Anthony Wyndham entered the room, a surprised look upon his face. "What is it?" he asked. "Robert, why have you returned? Is everything all right?"

"Sit down, Tony," said Lord Morgan, "but first tell me, where is Blaze?"

"Counting linens with my mother. Why?"

"What I have to tell you is a horrifying tale, but you must not interrupt me until I have finished."

"Very well," replied the earl to his father-in-law. "Say on, Rob."

Quickly Lord Morgan explained the reason for his return to RiversEdge and as he spoke, the earl's face grew more somber with every passing minute. A bevy of emotions passed across his face. Anger. Sorrow. Compassion. When Robert Morgan had finally finished telling him what poor Delight had related to him in her remorse, he could but shake his head.

"The French bitch must be destroyed, Tony," said Lord Morgan. "She cannot be allowed to harm Blaze or your child. There is Nyssa also to consider. Did she not attempt to subvert my granddaughter before you and Blaze returned from court last autumn? She is a dangerous creature, Tony. She cannot be allowed to go free."

"What would you do to her?"

"Make her wear the same night garment that she planned for Blaze to wear tonight. If she has not lied to Delight, the poison will be absorbed into her skin, killing her, and it will appear that she died a sudden but natural death."

"And the servant?"

"The woman is involved too, but I cannot justify the taking of her life. Pack her off to France with a small pension. She dare not speak of what she knows lest she implicate herself."

Anthony Wyndham nodded. "Let us do it now," he said. "Henriette is in her chamber. Let us hope in the ensuing distress of her death no one, including Blaze, will think to ask about Delight's parting gift, and where it is."

His two companions nodded in agreement, and the three men, after ascertaining that no one would see them, hurried from the library up a back staircase to the floor housing the family's bedchambers. The wide hallway with its afternoon sunlight was deserted. Blaze and Doro were in another part of the house, and Nyssa was out-of-doors in the stableyard learning to ride her new pony. The earl led Lord Morgan and Lord Kingsley to his cousin's chamber, and the three men entered into the room without knocking.

Henriette Wyndham did not at first hear her visitors, for she was busily grinding something into a fine powder with her mortar and pestle, and her concentration was intense. Suddenly sensing that she was not alone, she whirled about, surprise suffusing her lovely features.

"Tony," she said, and then, seeing Lord Morgan and another gentleman, her face hardened. "So, the little madwoman could not keep her secret long enough to attain her heart's desire," Henriette noted, and her voice dripped scorn.

"It was not Delight's idea at all, was it?" asked Lord Morgan.

"Of course not," came the bold reply. "Do you think the little simpleton could be as clever as I?"

Robert Morgan smiled coldly. "No, Delight is not clever, for she tends to think with her heart. You, however, have no heart, do you, Mademoiselle Henriette?"

The French girl laughed delightedly, as if pleased with his discovery. "And it was not my daughter who was to benefit by this murder, was it, mademoiselle?" continued Lord Morgan. "You would have concocted a way to expose her, and then you planned to snap up the grieving widower, n'est-ce pas, mademoiselle?"

"How is it," Henriette asked him, "that you are so clever, and your daughters, at least the two I have met, are so stupid?"

"Perhaps it is because they are pure of heart, mademoiselle," Lord Morgan replied.

"You will want the garment, I suppose?" Henriette said.

Lord Morgan smiled a savage smile. "No," he answered her. "I do not need it. You see, mademoiselle, I think that you are too dangerous a woman to continue living. If we saw you incarcerated in a convent, you might escape. If we returned you to France, you might attempt to reenter England. We can hardly wed you to a decent man, given your propensity for stablemen. Besides, you might decide to conveniently widow yourself in a similar fashion as you thought to rid yourself of my daughter. It has, therefore, been decided that you will suffer the same fate you proposed for her."

"No!"Henriette Wyndham hissed the word in almost reptilian fashion. "You cannot do this! You cannot! Anthony!" she appealed to him. "We are cousins!"

" 'Tis a pity, madam, that you did not remember that when you prepared your little scheme to murder my wife and our unborn child," he replied coldly. "Fetch the garment, Henriette, and put it on."

Henriette's eyes rolled in her head with her fright. "Grand-mère Cecile, aidez moi, je tu prie!"

From a corner by the fireplace where she had silently viewed and heard all, the old woman arose. She spoke the same French dialect that her granddaughter had spoken. "Do as they say, my child, and without further delay. There is an antidote to your poison that I have never told you. I had already prepared it in case the wrong person touched the gown, for we could not have had that happen, could we? As soon as they leave I will give it to you, and then we will escape this place. Madame Blaze is counting linens with Madame Dorothy and Heartha. It will be easy to steal some of her jewelry. We will have enough to live on the rest of our lives. We will go home to France, ma petite. Vite, vite, now! Do as you have been ordered."

As the old woman spoke, a look had passed between Lord Morgan and his sons-in-law. Henriette and her grandmother were not aware that the three knew enough of the French language to have understood even Cecile's dialect. They watched now as the false servant, covering her hands in the special lotion, brought forth the deadly garment. It was exactly as Delight had described it, and Robert Morgan was satisfied.

"Very well," Henriette said in what she hoped passed for a cowed voice, "I will don the gown, but may I first say my prayers? If I am to die, at least let me make my peace with God."

"The nightrail first," said Lord Morgan stonily. "Then you may pray, but I suspect it is the Devil you call upon, and not God."

Henriette sent him a venomous look. "Leave me then," she said.

"Nay," said Anthony. "We will remain here until the deed is done."

With a shrug to indicate that she did not care, Henriette unbuttoned her bodice and pulled it off. Next she loosened the waistband of her skirts, and stepped from them as they fell with her petticoats to the floor. Casually she unrolled her stockings, and kicking her shoes off, pulled them from her feet. Finally she drew her chemise over her head and tossed it aside. She posed naked before them, thrusting her large cone-shaped breasts forward, fondling them with her hands until the nipples were no more than big sharp points. Fascinated, the three men watched as her hands smoothed over her torso and downward, the tips of her fingers coming to rest amid the dark triangle of curls of her Venus mons. Henriette's eyes closed for a minute, and from between her pouting red lips came a sound that was almost like a deep purr.

Then opening her amber eyes wide she murmured, "Come now, monseigneurs, would you really destroy such loveliness as this? Tell me, have you ever shared a woman, the three of you? I have more than enough to go around. You could have me one at a time, or I have even been known to take three men at once. One of you in my burning sheath, which even now aches to be stuffed with a hard and throbbing cock such as I know you each possess. One of you in my ass, for my French and Italian lovers schooled me well in that particular perversion. The third in my little mouth, but do not be fooled, for I am able to swallow the largest cock after I have tongued it to pleasure. Surely you cannot refuse such an offer as I am now making you? Do you not want me? Men have killed for my favors." Her little tongue ran rapidly over her red lips.

They stared at her as they might have stared at some particularly loathsome reptile or beast. Each of them felt a lustful response to her words, yet none of them would have accepted her wicked offer. She was the most tantalizingly evil woman that they had ever encountered, and with a singularity of mind they realized that there could be very little sin in ridding the world of such a creature.

"Put the gown on, you vile bitch!" growled Anthony. "When I think that I gave you a home, and allowed you to associate with my wife and mother, I shudder."

With Cecile's help Henriette put the gown on, and seeing it, Lord Morgan thought that it was exquisite, particularly the embroidery. It had been a beautiful but deadly trap. "Say your prayers, mademoiselle," he ordered her, and Henriette knelt piously for as long as she dared before rising.

"Now lie upon your bed," Anthony ordered her, and turning to the startled Cecile, who had expected that the men would leave now, he said, "Tie your mistress to the bed with these ropes," and he handed the old woman four short lengths of strong rope.

Suddenly afraid, Cecile obeyed him, not daring to even try to thwart him, for he checked the knots of each binding as she tied it. When she had finished she was made to return to her corner, where she intended to sit until they left her, that she might supply her granddaughter with the antidote to the poisoned gown.

Lord Morgan, however, spoke up. "I will stay until the bitch dies," he said quietly. "You two take the old woman where she will not be heard or found, and lock her up until mademoiselle is lifeless."

"Rob—" began the Earl of Langford, but his father-in-law interrupted him.

"Nay, Tony. It is enough I have put on your conscience and Nick's this day. The rest is mine to bear, and I shall. Go now."

"Anthony, I beg of you," pleaded Henriette from her place upon the bed, "let me have the comfort of my servant at least in the moment of my dying! Do not be so cruel as to let me die with the pitiless eyes of this monster watching over me!"

Anthony Wyndham walked to the bedside and stared icily down at Henriette. "Listen to me, cousin, and hear me well. We all understood what it was you said to your grand-mère but moments ago. I have no intention of leaving her here to give you an antidote, free you, steal my wife's jewelry, and then help you escape retribution for your wicked deeds. If you have not said your prayers, if that sham of motionings and mumblings upon your prie-dieu was no more than that, then now is the time for you to make your peace with God." Then, turning away from her, he departed the room with Lord Kingsley, hustling the protesting old woman between them, while behind them Henriette Wyndham shrieked curses upon them all.

"Rob is a brave man," Nicholas Kingsley said quietly.

"Aye, I should not really have enjoyed being closeted with that hellcat in her death throes," admitted Tony.

They forced their captive up the stairs into a tiny room in an unused tower room at the very top of the house. "Monsieurs, monsieurs," whined Cecile, "what is to become of me? You would not kill an innocent old woman surely." Her wrinkled face was a mask of fear.

Anthony laughed harshly. "Innocent? Not you, madam! Who taught that viper you nurtured her little trade in poisons? Did you seek to thwart her when she lured my poor misguided sister-in-law into her web of deception ? You are as guilty as she, but you are more fortunate, for none of us could pass a judgment upon you. Of the two, your crime was lesser. How long will the poison take to kill her?"

"Three hours at the most, my lord," quavered Cecile.

"When we are certain that she is dead, you will be released from this room. You will find Henriette, and you will bleat your terrible news to the household. Henriette will be buried in the family vault, her crimes against the Wyndhams unknown. You, madam, will then be returned to France with a small pension in gold. Say one word of what has passed here today before you leave RiversEdge, and after denying it, I will see you killed. Speak one word of it when you reach France again, and I shall know also. As you know, my wife stands high in King Henry's favor, and the king is ever in contact with his fellow monarch, the French Fran?ois. Dare to tell what has happened here today once you are in France, and I will see you burned as a witch. Do I make myself clear, madam?"

She nodded. "If your uncle Henry had been as you, monseigneur, what he could not have done! What we would not have had! Alas, he was but a dreamer and a fool. I comprehend your words, monseigneur, and I will obey."

"Practical old bitch," remarked Nicholas Kingsley when they had locked her behind a stout door of solid oak and returned to the earl's library. "I doubt she'll shed any tears for Henriette. Do you think she really is the girl's grandmother?"

"Probably. Her mother's mother, for Henriette showed us a miniature of my uncle Henry and her mother. Now that I think back on it, there is a pronounced resemblance between the old lady and Henriette's mother."

The two men waited for Lord Morgan to come to them and tell them that the French girl was dead. While they waited, they played chess, and got just a little drunk with Anthony's good red burgundy. Suddenly the door opened, and Blaze stepped into the room.

"Nick! Why did no one tell me that you were here? Is everything all right at Kirkwood?"

"Just came to play a little chess and have a friendly drink with Tony," Lord Kingsley said.

"How is my sister?"

"Blythe is in excellent health. Having babies agrees with her," he told her.

Blaze laughed. God bless men, she thought. For them it is all so simple. "And how is our new nephew?" she inquired.

Edmund John Kingsley had been born on the twenty-fifth day of February, and named after his late uncle, the Earl of Langford.

"Were it not for Edmund's kindness and generosity," Blythe had declared, "I should have never had a dowry, but worse, I should have never met my Nicholas!"

"My dear," her husband had responded gallantly, "I would have had you without a dowry."

"The young fellow is doing quite well," answered Lord Kingsley in reply to Blaze's question. He was enormously proud of his daughter and two sons.

"Then having gained all your news, Nick, I shall leave you both to your game, and that fine French burgundy. Tony, where is Henriette? I have not seen her since Delight left this morning."

"I saw Cecile just as Nick arrived, and she mentioned that my cousin had a headache and would spend her afternoon resting."

"Henriette always manages to disappear or become indisposed when there is work to be done," grumbled Blaze. "I doubt she was so fine a lady at the French court as she would have us believe. Your mother and I could have used her help with the linens, but no matter. She will only whine and fuss if I arouse her, so she is best left to her bed."

"Do not tire yourself, my angel," Tony cautioned her.

"I will not," she promised him, and smiling at them both, she departed, closing the door behind her.

"You do not think she will change her mind and go to fetch your cousin, do you?" Nicholas Kingsley asked nervously.

"Nay," said Anthony. "Henriette does cause a great to-do when asked to do what she considers menial chores. Blaze has no patience with her, and is actually happy for the excuse to leave her in peace."

They continued their game, to be interrupted a half-hour later when Lord Morgan entered the library, quickly shutting the door firmly behind him. The two younger men looked up questioningly.

"She is quite dead," said Robert Morgan. "To be certain, when her breathing stopped, I pricked her sharply on the bare sole of her foot, but she moved not. God, how she curst us after you left, and in the foulest language that I have ever heard. Then she seemed to accept her fate, and spoke not again. I think the silence was worse. I untied her before I left her bedchamber, and burnt the ropes in the fireplace. Then I placed a coverlet over her so she would look more natural. I was frankly quite afraid to touch her lest I draw some of the poison to myself," he finished.

"Let the old woman risk the handling of her for her burial," said Anthony.

The other men nodded, and then Lord Morgan said, "I must get back across the river, gentlemen. There is at least an hour of daylight left to me, and with the moon tonight my way will be quite clear. I had best get home and reassure Delight that her sister is all right. Her state of mind is very fragile right now."

"Do you still intend to match her with the Irish lad?" Tony asked.

"I think so. Once Delight is assured that her attempt on Blaze's life came to naught, and I can tell her that no one else knows but the three of us, and that you, Anthony, forgive her, I believe that her recovery will be guaranteed. The Irish suitor will be a good diversion for her. I am almost certain now that I will make the match unless the lad turns out to be feebleminded or cruel. I believe it is best if Delight's married life be far from you and Blaze, Anthony. It will not be easy for her to look on you both for some time without feeling some sort of guilt. The farther away she is, the easier it will be for her to forget all of this; the less chance she will have of constantly confronting her guilt; and there will be more opportunity for her to heal herself."

"You are a wise father, Rob," said Anthony, and the two men embraced one another. Then the earl moved to touch one of the beautiful linenfold panels that made up his library's wall, and the wall swung open, to his two companions' great surprise. "This passage will take you down to the boat quay without being seen," he said. "I think it best you use it today."

Lord Kingsley and Lord Morgan nodded, and without another word, went through into the passage, each holding lighted tapers that they had taken from the sconces on the wall. The earl quickly closed the hidden door behind them, and going to the windows that overlooked the river, he watched until several minutes later he saw his brother-in-law's barge pull away from the landing and make for his own on the opposite shore. Anthony Wyndham turned and hurried back up the stairs of his house to the unused tower room where they had earlier incarcerated the old Frenchwoman. Unlocking the door, he motioned her out into the hallway. Together they descended back down to the level upon which the family bedchambers were located, and entered into Henriette's room.

The French girl lay upon the bed, deceptively innocent-looking in death. Her eyes were open wide and sightless. The earl dug deep into his doublet and brought forth two copper coins, which the old woman placed upon her granddaughter's eyelids as she drew them closed. There was not a mark upon the already stiffening body, and Henriette's death appeared to be a natural one. Cecile drew her granddaughter's arms down, and crossed them over the girl's breasts.

"Take that damned hellish garment off her and burn it now," said Anthony. "I would be certain that it is destroyed."

Silently the old woman ripped the gown from the dead girl and dumped it on the smoldering red coals. The silk immediately caught fire, and within minutes was burnt to black ashes.

"You will prepare her for her burial," said the earl. "I want no one else touching the body."

Cecile nodded. "She can hurt no one now, monseigneur. Once absorbed into her system through her skin, the poison is harmless to everyone but its victim."

He watched her as she wrapped Henriette in another chamber robe, and then he said, "I am going back down to my library, Cecile. In five minutes you will come screaming from this chamber to announce my cousin's death. Play your part well, old woman, and after Henriette is buried amongst the other Wyndhams with an honor she neither had nor deserves, you will find yourself on your way back to France with your gold, and able to live out your wretched life quite comfortably. Do you understand me, or shall I say it in French?"

Cecile smiled, baring half-toothed gums. "I understand, my lord earl, quite well, for my English has improved immeasurably during my stay here. It is not necessary to speak my own tongue to me. I will play my part well. My daughter, her husband, and my grandchild are all dead. I have no one left but myself to care for me. My lord earl's gold will give me a little cottage in Brittany, and I shall not go hungry even in the hard times."

Anthony left the old woman, and returned to his library to await her display. As he seated himself by the fire, the tension of the last hours drained from his body, and for a moment he felt quite weak. He had come so close to losing Blaze that the knowledge of it caused him a sharp physical pain deep in his chest. Only Delight's true and real love for her sister, and the decency that Robert Morgan and his wife had taught her, surfacing at the last moment, had saved his wife. Had saved their unborn child. He had come so close to losing them both, but Blaze would never know. She must never know the depths to which her unfortunate younger sister had been driven. She must never know that there were women such as Henriette in the world, wreaking their havoc in their selfish quest for that which they did not deserve.

How sad they were, those women, and men too, who did not realize that family was all. That without family there was nothing. No love. No friendships. No security of knowing that you were not really alone. No meaning to life. No reason for going forward. A person might want to be alone sometimes, thought Anthony Wyndham, but how good a thing it was when such a time passed to be able to walk into one's own hall to be greeted by those who loved you. The Henriettes of this world did not understand that and sought for other riches, but family was the greatest wealth of all.

But for a twist of fate he might have lost his, and Anthony Wyndham silently thanked God that he had not. It was at that moment that a piercing shriek of anguish rang throughout his house, and rising from his chair, the earl prepared himself to be surprised and shocked by the news he would shortly hear.