ROMANTIC VENTURE

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Maurette slept a night and most of a day. She awoke to find Kitty staring down on her. Naked and tangled in the bed covers, Maurette reached feebly for something with which to cover herself from Kitty's regard. The girl watched apprehensively as Maurette, unable to locate her dressing gown, curled into a tight ball.

"Prepare me a bath, Kit," she said in a pitifully small voice. Kitty brought her a gown, and Maurette tucked it around herself with almost feverish determination. When Kitty would have aided her, she pushed at her hands and shook her head wildly.

Kitty set to the business of preparing Maurette's bath. As the water warmed over the low fire, she went about the room, picking up pillows and bolsters that had been strewn in turbulent disarray. A fur throw had been crumpled and apparently tossed from the bed. What rampant savagery had ensued here, Kitty could only imagine. The fact that her mistress had not appeared for dinner the night before and neither had the lord of the house, had aroused Kitty's suspicions that some eventful circumstance was taking place. She had not dared to enter Maurette's chamber until very late. When she had, she had found Maurette lying limp and moaning in a fitful sleep. She had covered her and left the room.

Checking on her from time to time throughout the night and the next day, Kitty had found her to be restive. Each time she had come into the chamber, she had found it necessary to arrange Maurette's bed covers, for they had invariably been askew and wrapped around her body.

When the bath was prepared, Kitty went to the bed and gently placed her hand on Maurette's huddled shoulder. She felt a stiffening and realized that whatever had taken place in this room had filled her mistress with an all-consuming pain. She would not inquire as to its source but would keep a gentle watch on the chamber. She placed a hand on Maurette's matted hair.

"Would you like my assistance in your bath, my lady?" Kitty said softly. Again Maurette shook her head, and Kitty backed resignedly from the room.

Hot tides of shame had overwhelmed Maurette on her awakening, and now, with Kitty gone from the room, she sprang from her bed and lunged into her bath without even testing the temperature of the water. Washing herself furiously, Maurette attempted to cleanse the terror and humiliation that had gripped her through the night from her body and her soul. She felt unclean and debased, and all the water in the oceans of the world could not wash away her degradation. She found herself sitting in the cooling water, sobbing out her agony. Dominic's violent handling of her body had been the final abasement. She had been a foolish, unnecessary ornament in this household, but now she was also dirtied.

Lifting herself from the tub, Maurette wrapped herself in a heavy dressing gown and moved to the bed. She sat heavily upon its edge and did not look up when Kitty reentered the room.

"Please, my lady," she said, "is there nothing I can do to appease this torment you endure?"

Maurette looked up into Kitty's pained eyes. "Thank you, Kit, but no. There is no relief for what I feel. If I could even hate the man I thought I loved, 'twould be a blessing. But my loathing is for myself."

Kitty threw herself at Maurette's seated form. "But you must not, gentle lady. You are too fine and too admirable a woman to endure such torture as that of self-loathing."

Maurette took Kitty's face into her hands and gazed down into her soft brown eyes. They were so filled with the purity of her love that Maurette felt suffused with warmth.

"Bless you, Kit," she said. A small smile crossed her lips. "You have reminded me that I am not entirely alone. There are those who love me in this world." Maurette stood and gently lifted Kitty. "Get me a proper gown, Kit, and help me to bed."

Relief surged through Kitty's thin body. She helped Maurette into a clean nightdress and smoothed the covers on her bed. Maurette lay down and for the first time in many hours felt her body relax. Kitty stroked Maurette's masses of her hair.

"Sleep, my lady," she said tenderly. "Sleep, and dream sweet dreams."

"Thank you, my Kit," Maurette murmured softly, as her breathing evened and she felt herself descending at last into a restful slumber.

Maurette dreamed not of demons but of her home. She lay once again in the plump grasses surrounding the graceful manor house. She could see the billowing clouds in a clear blue sky. She heard the song of the martins and the restful buzz of the bees. The trickling of a brook and the rustling of leaves in a dewy bower filler her soul. A dog barked, a horse whickered. Her father was there and her mother.

They smiled at her and warmly caressed her. Her grandmother appeared and slipped the platinum band on Maurette's finger. Her sea-blue eyes were filled with love. "Do not be afraid," she whispered into Maurette's ear. Her face disappeared in a mist, but the words, lingered and repeated themselves over and over.

"Grandmama," Maurette breathed in her sleep. "Grandmama," she said again. "Help me," she murmured. Awareness washed over Maurette, and she bolted awake. The vision had been so real. She looked down and found the platinum band on her finger where it had been these many weeks. She held it to her breast. She gazed around the quiet interior of her tester bed. Nothing stirred. She listened to the sounds of her chamber-the crack of the low fire, the brush of her own flesh against the pillow, the soft snap of a guttering candle. Maurette lay back.

A footfall startled her. Someone was in her room. Her body went rigid. The hangings stirred. One drape was drawn open, and Maurette gasped as Dominic appeared.

"You have awakened." His cool tone hinted no remorse.

"Yes," Maurette answered stiffly.

"I have been waiting."

"What is it?" Maurette's lips parted. She moistened them with her tongue. She felt no sense of impending danger. And yet...He loomed over her, his eyes like icy chips of stone.

"I would speak with you," he said evenly and held the drape for her to pass. Maurette drew her legs from beneath the covers and swung them over to the side of the bed. She stood and moved into the chamber. Drawing a robe from the chest, she shrugged into it and faced Dominic. His intent was not, apparently, to abuse her again. They were both fortunate in that, Maurette thought resolutely, for never again would he use her so cruelly. Her chin shot up.

"What do you want?" she inquired crisply.

Dominic's eyebrow shot up. His eyes flashed dangerously. "You dare speak to me thus?" He growled.

"I do." Said Maurette stiffly. A vital flame had been kindled in her. She had seen her family and her beloved Islington. She had felt the strength of their love for her and the strength of her own self-worth flow into her. She knew that ultimately she must hold her tongue. Anger, she had proven to herself time and again, was no weapon against Dominic Warbrooke. However, she knew, too, that she had not deserved his humiliating treatment of her.

"Tread carefully, Maurette, for my wrath is a dangerous toy." Silence leaped menacingly between them. "I would that you attend me at dinner this night," he said after a long pause.

Maurette bit back an angry response. Where she had expected passionate remorse, she was discovering only arrogant swagger. His attitude was not forgivable. Maurette's eyes blazed with the frustration she felt at her position. She did not speak but waited for further words from him.

His face softened for a moment and then once more became a mask of anger and something else. Was it…could it have been…pain? Maurette's brows quirked in puzzlement. For all her ire, she longed to question him on that momentary vulnerability she had glimpsed. However, he turned away from her and moved to her armoire. He swept both doors open and inspected the contents.

"You shall wear this," he said, pulling out her richest gown. It was a velvet of deep sable color. "And with it you will wear these." He thrust the gown and a small box at her. She took them both. Laying the gown over the back of a settee, she opened the box. She gazed down at a delicate chain made of platinum and amethysts. The metal was so pure that it was almost white, and the gems were of the palest lavender. At the very center of her throat, a larger stone would lie in a heart-shaped setting. She glanced up at Dominic.

"I had intended to token you with that at another time," he said stonily. "But I want you wealthily garbed this night." His mouth became a grim line.

Maurette could only wonder at the concern he apparently had over the way she dressed on this particular night, but she had no time to question him. For he turned at that moment and left the chamber. Maurette fingered the magnificent necklace reflectively for a few moments. Then with a resolution that lifted her chin, she began her toilette for this very significant evening.

Maurette entered the darkened gallery leading to the withdrawing room. She had dressed carefully in the gown of sable-colored velvet. Long tight sleeves encased her slender arms like the skin of a snake and ended in a closely fitting vee at her wrists. Her eyes were enhanced by the amethysts she wore at her throat. Kitty had swept her hair up, and it curled in glistening waves atop her head.

Dominic was alone when she entered the room. He waited for her before the hearth beneath the loathsome creature that was his coat-of-arms. Maurette wavered at the entrance and took in Dominic's massive form. The flames, which seemed to emanate from his very body, cracked and seethed in hideous rapacity behind him. She could not draw her eyes from his raven countenance. Suddenly, his narrow silver gaze took in something behind her and just over her should. Feeling a warm presence, she turned to find Lucius Hamilton standing behind her. She gasped and backed away from him into the room. Maurette stood between the two men and looked from one to the other. She had never known such fear. Her mind whirled with speculation. What was Dominic's purpose in bringing her and Lucius together? The two men were of a height, and icy sparks shot between them as they glared at one another.

"You sent for me, Uncle," Lucius said with indolent boldness.

"I went to a great deal of trouble to get my message to you, Nephew," Dominic said, matching his tone. "Once I knew you to be within the walls of Ravenshead, finding you was not a simple matter."

Lucius chuckled low in his throat. " 'Tis a big castle."

" 'Tis my castle." Dominic's voice betrayed no anger, and for some reason, this frightened Maurette beyond reason. He settled a chilling gaze upon her. Advancing to her, he placed a muscled arm around her shoulders. She stiffened, causing him to tighten his hold imperceptibly. Lucius scowled.

" 'Twould seem," said Lucius, arching a brow, "that your lady would prefer a gentler hand."

"My lady," said Dominic silkily, placing special emphasis on the first word. "Is precisely that, young Lucius. 'Tis my intent that fact is made eminently clear to you."

Lucius regarded him levelly. Then he turned and moved to the side table where he poured himself a brandy. He turned back to the couple and raised his goblet.

"To the happy couple," he said. His voice held no small hint of mockery. Then, as his eyes fell on Maurette, he smiled gently. "On second thought," he said looking down into his brandy. "Methinks the company is beyond the need for spirit." Lucius set down his cup. "You need prove nothing to me, Uncle. Your lady has, in truth, already made her feeling for you clear to me." He regarded Maurette with a tenderness that was not lost on his uncle.

"I see," said Dominic. Without warning, he turned to Maurette and raised his hand to brush a fingertip over the swell of her breast above the plunging neckline of her gown. Her flesh quivered as she felt both pairs of male eyes upon her bosom.

"Please, Dominic," she said in a small voice.

"Please what?" Dominic questioned, his voice deceptively soft. When Maurette did not answer, he turned back to face Lucius. "Our nephew indicated that you intoxicate him." His finger continued to trace an idle path on Maurette's breasts. "The boy will drink himself into oblivion, if he continues to stare." Dominic laughed low in his throat, and his eyes held his nephew's in an icy stare. " 'Tis an odd thing about spirit," Dominic said reflectively, "one is admonished to enjoy it in moderation and yet," he looked down upon Maurette's white breasts. "To truly know the fullest pleasures of the grape, one must experience it to an immodest degree." He applied minimal pressure to the tautened velvet neckline, and Maurette, to her horror, felt the material give to the extent that her pinkened aureoles were exposed. She felt her nipples harden against the straining ridge of the neckline's edge.

She knew instinctively that to attempt to thwart Dominic, at that moment, would result in some horrible violence, for violence lurked just beneath the surface in the tension-filled room. Both men watched, fascinated, as the color rose to pinken Maurette's pale flesh. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her breasts quaked with each pulsation.

"Are you cold?" Inquired Dominic, noting her trembling flesh.

"No," she said, and the word became a soft gasp as Dominic touched the top of each straining nipple.

"Mmmm," he murmured, and the sound was a hot caress. "I was concerned," he said solicitously. "Why do you tremble?"

Maurette gazed up into his eyes that had darkened to an iron gray. Her breath came in shallow gasps. Her humiliation was complete as she realized that her breasts now strained against the corded velvet edge of her gown. Tears came to her eyes. She stood her ground courageously, however, and would not give in to anger or the fear that clutched her heart. She would not be the cause of violence between uncle and nephew, and yet she knew that she already was. Tears ran unabated down her pale cheeks. She lifted her chin.

"I told Lucius that I loved you, Dominic, and he accepted my words. He has done nothing to threaten you," she said in a clear voice. "At least where is concerns me."

"Ah," said Dominic softly, "you even defend the young mutineer."

"I do not defend him' I but tell the truth." She pulled back her shoulders, caring not that the movement thrust her breasts out even farther. "Do what you will with me, my lord, but the results shall be on your conscience."

"My conscience," roared Dominic suddenly. "How dare you speak of 'my conscience'?" His eyes were like chips of black diamonds and his face a mask of bronzed anger. Maurette shrank from the rage that gripped him. She could not believe that such towering wrath existed in the man she had believed she loved. Lucius sprang to Dominic's side.

"You do this lady an injustice, sir," he shouted.

Dominic turned upon him and with the full power of his fury; he advanced on his nephew.

"And you, Lucius Hamilton, do me and your family an injustice. You are here now by my good grace. For ten years and more, 'twas my hand that clothed and fed you. Yet you betrayed me, and still my hand way yours. And yet again you betrayed me." Dominic backs Lucius across the room. His advance was relentless. Maurette had never seen such cold hatred. That it resided in Dominic was a fact more frightening to her than anything that she could imagine.

Dominic now stopped his advance and stood breathing hard before his nephew. His voice, when he spoke was calmer and because of that all the more menacing.

"And now you dare to attempt to breach my fortress, to pilfer what is mine. I tell you this, Lucius Hamilton. By the blood of G-d, I swear that I shall kill you before this night is out. Your only hope is to leave Ravenshead now and never enter these battlements again. Thank your G-d that I give you this accommodation, for He knows, as do I, that you do not deserve it."

Lucius stood before his uncle. His muscular young body was redid with anger. His green eyes flashed sparks, and his strong white teeth were bared.

Maurette gasped raggedly, but neither of the two murderously angry men noticed her. She realized that, at that moment, she might not have been in the room, so complete was the concentration of the two bronzed adversaries upon each other. The room was superheated with their hatred for one another. Maurette realized that she might well witness a murder this night. She felt the room begins to whirl around her, and she quickly sat in a nearby chair. Her heart pounded in her breast, and she stifled a terrified scream as the tension mounted to the point where she felt an explosion was imminent.

Then, without warning, Lucius backed away. Maurette saw his muscular frame untense. She realized that the breath she took was her first in many seconds. She waited. The fire hissed. The ugly black creature above the mantel gazed with lustful hunger upon the two would-be combatants. It seemed to slaver for blood.

"I shall go," Lucius said finally. There were no more words. He turned and left the room.

Maurette pushed her knuckles to her lips to keep from crying out her relief. She dared not move for fear that Dominic's wrath be directed, in the absence of his hated quarry, upon her. She watched him warily.

His body untensed slowly, and his cold fury slowly left him. His breathing evened as he turned and held Maurette in his gaze. For a long eerie moment he seemed to waver on the brink of a decision, and then, the decision made, he advanced to her, Maurette stiffened.

"Do you not be frightened, little," he said, and there was a tenderness in his voice that astonished Maurette, coming so soon upon the heels of such unbridled anger. "I have no right to ask your forgiveness, and so I will not. I will ask for nor expect no quarter from you. You have every right to hate me. I hate myself more than you do, you see. I hate myself for forcing you to assume the brunt of my hatred of Lucius Hamilton. Someday…perhaps…our hearts will meet again, but until such time, I shall keep myself from your sweet company. In the meantime, Maurette, I would have it that you know all." He lifted her with one strong hand from the chair. "Will you come with me, Maurette?" he said gently. "I would show you our great secret."

Maurette guessed that they were in the north tower. They had passed through dim musty passages and climbed craggy stairways that led them into tower rooms and upper galleries. Everywhere the smells of age and neglect assailed Maurette. Though she no longer felt the desire to share Dominic's life or to help him bear the burden of the castle's 'great secret,' she realized that to close the door upon Dominic now might be to close it forever. Because she had loved him and perhaps loved him still, she allowed him to lead her to these isolated heights. They stopped before a massive wooden doorway. Huge planks, their luster dimmed through centuries, were lighted on either side by low burning torch lamps. Dominic took a great key from a hole that was made when he removed a stone from the wall near the door. He unlocked the arched barrier. Inside, a wooden door blocked Maurette's view of the chamber. Pushing it aside Dominic led her inside.

Displacing one of the torches at the entry, Dominic held it aloft so that Maurette could see the features of the chamber. She squinted in the dim light. The ceiling was unusually low with arched timbers buttressing the stone walls. The floor was spread with rushed, and small low benches were set in rows. At one end of the chamber there was a dais and on it what looked to be, from Maurette's dim perspective, a table. She moved slowly down the center of the room through an aisle that was formed by the placement of the benches. With his torch, Dominic lit two low candles on the linen-draped table, and Maurette recognized it for what it was.

"An altar," she breathed. " 'Tis a Catholic altar, Dominic." The hold vestments were laid on the table, and small statues filled every corner of the raised platform. A Latin Bible lay open at the center of the table on a small lectern. Dominic lit another candle, and Maurette lifted her eyes to a tall marble statue of the Virgin Mary. "I do not understand, Dominic," Maurette said in bewilderment. "Are you a Catholic?"

"He is not," said a voice from behind them. Lydia moved to the front of the chapel. "I am the breaker of laws here," she said. She stood in front of Maurette. "Dominic has protected me these many years, you see. And though our sacred church is outlawed and my brother is fiercely patriotic, he would never allow me to be indicted for my beliefs."

"Is this the truth, Dominic?" Maurette asked, casting a wary glance in his direction.

" 'Tis true, Maurette," he said softly into the dimness of the shadowed chamber. " 'Tis the reason that we do not welcome the company of people in this house."

"No one must discover that the great and powerful courtier of the queen, Lord Dominic Warbrooke, harbors a Catholic criminal," Lydia said harshly.

"Calm yourself, Lydia," Dominic said sharply and turned to Maurette. "With things as they are between Spain and our beloved England, we cannot chance Lydia's exposure. We pray that one day she will be able to practice her chosen belief in peace."

Lydia turned and moved up the aisle to the chamber door. "I shall leave you now, Maurette. I know that you will want to question Dominic further on this and that you have feelings of confusion to sort in your mind."

Lydia left the room, and Dominic set the torch in a blackened brass holder. He led Maurette to a low bench.

"Ask your questions, little one," he said gently.

Maurette hesitated. "Does this have anything to do with Lucius?" she said, fearing a violent reaction to her question.

"In many ways it does," Dominic said. "Lucius was raised a Catholic. My sister was married to a Scottish gentleman, and they lived in his homeland for many years. When he died, I invited Lydia to make her home with me. Lucius was but ten years old at the time and Lydia needed the comfort of her chosen religion. I saw no harm, in their continuing to practice Catholicism. However, 'twas 1570 when the excommunication of the queen took place, 'twas not until '85 that any real pressure was brought to bear to repress the Catholic population. In addition, as you know, Maurette, our good Elizabeth's policy of toleration toward the Catholics is well documented. Now, however, very real dangers exist, and Lydia must be more circumspect in her behavior.

"I am not a religious person, Maurette. My communion with the Almighty is a private one, and I respect the law, but I cannot see that my sister's practicing of her chosen religion threatens our beloved England."

"And Lucius?"

Dominic's face darkened. "That is another matter." He stood and paced the darkened room. "You have no doubt head of Anthony Babington. His murderous plot is now legend. The queen herself had protected Mary Stuart for two decades, but when Babington's assassination plan was uncovered and Mary's sanction of it described, even Elizabeth's good heart was hardened toward her. There were many such plots, Maurette, but none so hateful as that one. It included not only Her Majesty's murder, but the imposition of Mary Stuart on our people by the force of Spanish arms." Dominic went on grimly. " 'Twas Mary's own hand that ultimately caused her execution, for she had an active part in Babington's plot. Any my nephew was very much a part of it.

"I had seen to a position for Lucius at court. In December of 1585, Mary was to be moved from Tutbury to the earl of Eddex's castle at Chartley. 'Twas a humane action on the part of Elizabeth, for Mary had complained of her health and of the drafty environs of Tutbury. Her Majesty chose, from among her younger courtiers, an elite echelon to escort Mary and her retinue overland to Chartley. Lucius was among her younger courtiers; he was in fact, made Master of the Horse for this legation. 'Twas a great honor for him, Maurette. He held the same position that Elizabeth's favorite, the earl of Leicester, held at court. But, alas, the lad abominated his great fortune.

"When the unit returned from Chartley, the rumors began to fly that Lucius had provided succor to messengers of the Mary supporters in the French court, including Mendoza, the faithless ambassador. Her Majesty bade me speak to Lucius, for she could not believe that such condemning tales could be true of a nephew of mine.

When I went to Lucius, naturally, he denied the imputations. I did not fully trust him, but, for my sister's sake, I accepted his word. That he was loyal to our Sovereign and no friend to Mary of Scotland. 'Twas his first betrayal," Dominic said stonily.

"As you know, Her Majesty trusted me implicitly. When I assured her that Lucius was the brunt of jealous gossip, she believed me. 'Twas my hand that allowed his final. Mary's original letter to Babington, outlining the evil plot that would place her on the throne of England, was never found. Walsingham had intercepted it, had it copied, and sent it on to Babington who destroyed it. Fortunately, a copy of the letter existed, and it was this copy that finally sounded Mary's death knell.

"One night early in July, I had stayed late at cards and was padding Walsingham's privy chamber. I heard a noise inside and though to admonish Sir Francis for keeping such late hours. I went into the room only to find my nephew skulking at the minister's table. He was astonished to have been discovered. I knew then," said Dominic with rising anger, "that I had been duped and that I had gulled the queen into believing our treacherous young courtier. He admitted to me, with defiant arrogance, that he had been searching Walsingham's private office to see if a copy of Mary's letter existed. I could have killed him then, for there was no guilt, no contrition in his tone. I dragged him out into the gallery, and there I beat him to within an inch of his perfidious life."

"I sent him from the court and from my life that night. But for my sister, I would have set the entire palace on him. As it as, and is, Maurette, I set him free, for I knew the terrible punishments that would attend the guilty in that business. These last two years, I have lived with profound self-condemnation. I did not fully trust his loyalty to the throne, and yet I allowed myself the indulgence of believing in him. Worse than that, I carried the knowledge of his iniquity in my heart even as I pleaded his cause to the queen. And then, when I discovered that all that I had feared was true, I sent him our unpunished into the world. 'Tis my profound shame, Maurette, that he ranges the land, prowling like a dog in the night with evil in his heart." Dominic sat heavily on the low bench. He lowered his head into his hands.

"I cannot forgive myself my weakness where he is concerned. Lydia pleads daily with me to allow her son back into our lives. She assures me that his loyalties to Mary have abated. I cannot make her understand that, for his crimes, he should be lying in unconsecrated ground with his heart ripped from his chest like Babington. Even less can I convince her that her son is a consummate traitor. Dominic raised his eyes and regarded Maurette levelly.

"Now you know, little one, why I carry such hatred in my heart for my nephew. Because of him and my infirmity of purpose where he is concerned, I am more the traitor than Babington."

"You are not traitor, Dominic," Maurette said firmly. "Your loyalty to your family is admirable." She placed her fingertips on his cheek. "I do not know whether Lucius had forgone his loyalty to the Mary cause, and you do not know it either. But for what you have suffered at his hand, 'tis only natural that you should despise him. I understand, and I am in sympathy with what you feel. My loyalty is to you, Dominic," she said warmly. "And though you ask not my forgiveness for what was, in truth, monstrous behavior on your part, I do forgive you."

Dominic placed his hand over hers. He gazed into the translucent pools of lavender and found a well of love from which he knew he could always draw strength. This fragile flower, whom he had victimized so unforgivably, was filled with the sweet nectar of forgiveness.

This lovely Maurette had forever made him a man so blessed.

"With all my heart, I thank you, Maurette," he said gently. He stood and drew her carefully from the low bench. Together they left the chapel.

At her chamber door, they paused. ""I shall leave you now," Dominic said softly.

Maurette smiled. " 'Tis every your habit when you perceive that I am in doubt."

"And though you have forgiven me, you are in doubt, are you not?" Dominic gazed deep into her eyes. Maurette looked away. "One day, when I feel it is right, I shall ask your forgiveness again, my love," he avowed. "Till then, I shall not intrude upon your company." He brushed her cheek with a soft kiss.

Maurette kept her eyes averted, and as he moved away from her down the dim passage, she felt an aching loneliness. She did not call him back; however, for she knew that what had happened between them need the distance of time before she could truly forgive all. And, she asserted, lifting her small chin, perhaps Dominic needed the distance of time to realize what she meant to him.