Читать книгу Betrayal in the Tudor Court - Darcey Bonnette - Страница 10

Day yielded to night. Cecily crept into Mirabella’s apartments and the two girls held each other, sobbing themselves to sleep. Father Alec sat up with Hal in his apartments while Hal begged for absolution. Father Alec, who knew the man was sincere if nothing else, gave it. He had known the story since Lady Grace’s infamous display at her last entertainment so many years ago. He could not say he was shocked. Such things happened with more frequency than one supposed.

“The damndest thing, Father, is that I do love Grace,” he said. “Yet I failed. I failed her. I failed everyone. God knows how I’ve tried to make it up to her. …”

“It seems to me you are both to blame,” Father Alec observed. “You have been at odds, her with her drink, you with your guilt … it has separated you far more than Mirabella or the initial betrayal ever could. And now with Brey’s passing … it will take a long time to heal from this. But if you want to, if you both have the desire, you can. All of you. I would very much like to help you.”

“I accept the offer, Father,” Hal told him. “God knows how much we need it.”

Father Alec reached out, taking his friend’s hand. “Jeremiah chapter twenty-nine, verse eleven, tells us: ‘For I know the plans I have made for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans for hope and a future.’ ”

Hal bowed his head over their joined hands and sobbed.

Grace could not sleep. Memories swirled in her mind, relentless, comforting, painful. She recalled when she first learned she was with child. She had two miscarriages before Brey and when she felt him stir within her she knew he would live. With each stretch and kick, she revelled in her estate. She would be a mother, a real mother to a child who was hers. Hers and Hal’s and no one else’s. A child born in the light and the truth, not surrounded by darkness and lies. He was born, golden and beautiful, happy and serene. All his life Brey was happy, growing from a happy baby to a happy boy. His laugh was like no other; it was like the tinkling of icicles on the pines. It was heartfelt with sincere joy.

He was to marry Cecily. Together they would bring her grandchildren and a legacy that she was partially responsible for. Now he was gone. Cecily would marry someone else; she would no longer be a part of them. Mirabella would go; she would join her precious convent. Even if she did not, she would leave. Grace’s actions had chased her away. There would be no redeeming their already-fractured relationship. And Hal … How could Hal ever forgive this? This was to be Their Secret.

Grace had lost everything.

She climbed out of bed, throwing her wrap about her shoulders.

Carefully, noiselessly, Grace slipped out of doors.

“I have nothing,” she said to the great manor that loomed in the darkness.

“We cannot leave without her!” Hal cried the next morning as the family prepared for the long, unhappy journey home for Brey’s interment. “Where in hell would she have gone to? Has anyone seen her?”

Cecily and Mirabella shook their heads. They clung to each other, both fragile and frightened, battered by the whirlwind of events that had left its brutal mark on the last few days.

At once Hal’s steward rushed in from out of doors, leading in a young, startled boatman.

“What’s this?” Hal demanded.

“News, my lord,” said the steward with an apologetic bow.

“M-milord,” the boatman stammered. “I was in front of your house when it happened. … I had trouble bringing up my oar. Something seemed to be grabbing at it. I jerked it up and … that’s when I saw it. I thought it was riverweeds tangling it up, but it was not. It was a lady’s wrap.” He choked back a sob.

“No …” Hal whispered to the servant, who offered a reluctant nod.

Cecily’s shoulders began to convulse with silent sobs. Mirabella held her close, her body rigid as she absorbed this new onslaught of tragedy.

The two men led Hal to the scene. In the bottom of the boat was a bloodied wrap and a tangle of blond hair. Gingerly, Hal fingered the sopping wrap. His hand trembled when he encountered the hair entwined about the boatman’s oar.

“Is it hers, my lord—the wrap?” the man asked in anxious tones.

Hal offered a slow nod, his blue eyes stormy with bewilderment.

“She must have been caught on a branch before the current carried her off,” hazarded the boatman.

Hal clutched the wrap to his chest. He began to shiver uncontrollably as he sobbed. “Oh, Grace … oh, Grace …” At once he regarded the stunned assemblage, his face lit with an epiphany. “She may have survived,” he ventured at last. “We will alert the proper authorities. Any females of Grace’s description pulled from the Thames shall be examined.”

“Of course, my lord,” Hal’s steward answered in gentle tones.

Hal would be appeased. There would be a thorough search. But all knew no one survived the Thames. Brey was gone. Grace was gone. And all in three days. The amount of time it took for the Lord to die and rise from the dead.

How would Hal ever survive this? Could he ever rise above it?

After two weeks of Hal dashing off to examine the bloated corpses pulled from the Thames on a daily basis, Father Alec accompanied him to his apartments. He laid a hand on Hal’s shoulder.

Father Alec’s lips quivered. He did not want to say it. “Hal, we must return to Sumerton. Brey needs to be interred properly. It does not mean we have to stop searching for my lady, but we must at least begin to face the prospect—”