When Love Awaits

Chapter 47

BUT things were to resolve themselves in a manner no one could have expected.

No sooner had Leonie returned to Crewel and entered the master bedchamber than a maid frantically sought her out.

"My lady, she is dying! You must come—please," Janie cried.

"It's a ruse," Wilda said quickly. The young maid was Amelia's own servant, and not part of the Crewel household. "The woman has learned that she will be sent away, and she means to prevent it by claiming illness." She cast a triumphant look at Janie.

Wilda stood firmly planted between Leonie and Janie, and Leonie was gratified that Wilda was trying to protect her, as she so often did. If nothing else had been accomplished by going to Pershwick, at least she had been able to bring Wilda back with her.

"Go back and tell that woman we are wise to her," Wilda ordered brazenly, and Leonie saw she would have to put a stop to this.

"Tell me what has happened," she demanded, and Janie wailed, "She will be so angry that I have come, because she wants no one to know what she has done. But she is bleeding and it won't stop. She is dying, my lady, I am sure of it!"

"Whathas she done?" Leonie insisted.

"She—she took something. She said it was to make everything right again."

Leonie paled, understanding at once. "God's mercy, this is my fault. I had such bad feelings about the child because of the mother, and—"

"My lady, will you come?" Janie begged again, and Leonie shook herself. This was no time to indulge in remorse.

"Wilda, get my medicines, quickly."

To Leonie's surprise, Sir Evarard was waiting outside Amelia's door.

He looked very unhappy.

"There is something seriously wrong with Amelia?" he asked dejectedly.

"You are fond of the lady, Sir Evarard?" She had no idea what else to say.

"Fond? I love her!" he said emphatically.

Leonie smiled at him. "I will do all I can."

"Will you?" he asked more anxiously than diplomatically. "I know you have no liking for her, nor she for you. And she can be childish and petulant, but—but she is not all bad, my lady."

"Sir Evarard," Leonie said gently, "please go below. If I can help Amelia, I will. You may believe that."

Amelia's quarters were larger than Leonie had expected, and cluttered with objects, most of which reminded her of Alain. He had always liked ornate things, and he had left most of his possessions behind when he fled Kempston.

The room reeked of sickness. The sheets had been changed recently, but the bloodied ones were left in a pile in the corner.

With just a glance at the gaunt figure in the bed, Leonie's suspicions were confirmed. The face was a sickly gray, and there were huge dark circles under her eyes. Amelia's body was racked with pain, and in her half-conscious state, she thrashed around, whimpering and moaning, while the two maids standing near the bed looked at Leonie helplessly.

Leonie pulled down the sheet. Amelia was lying in a pool of blood.

With the maids' help, Leonie changed the linens once more and cleaned Amelia, packing her with bandages to staunch the flow of blood. She then forced Amelia to drink a syrup of marsh woundwort, hoping that would stop the hemorrhaging.

In a vial on the candlestand beside the bed was the decoction Amelia had taken, which Leonie had known would be spurge laurel, commonly used to aid the bowels and known to cause abortion. Too large a dose could violently flush the body with vomiting and bloody stools, and often proved fatal. The vial was nearly empty.

Amelia's eyes, when she opened them, were wild with confusion. She saw Leonie standing beside her bed and whispered, "What are you doing here?"

"How much of this did you take?" Leonie asked, holding the vial up.

"Enough. I have used it before, but—but always when I first suspected. Never this late."

"Why,Amelia?"

The older woman was startled by Leonie's obvious concern. "Why?

What do I want with a child? I detest children!"

Leonie's sympathy began waning. "So you would kill my lord's child?"

she asked in disgust. "If you never wanted it, then why did you wait so long."

"I needed it to . . . but with you gone . . . oh, leave me alone!"

"I am tempted to do just that and let you die from your own foolishness!" Leonie's voice crackled with emotion.

"No, please, you must help me!" Amelia cried. "I have lost the child already, and now he will send me away."

"Are you so sure of that?" Leonie wanted to know.

"Rolfe did not want me after he wed you," Amelia moaned. "I thought he would, but he didn't."

"Explain yourself, Amelia."

"I did not want to return to court," Amelia gasped. "You don't know what it's like there, do you? Having to compete with younger women, always having to—"

"Tell me about Rolfe," Leonie insisted, her voice rising.

"I lied to him," Amelia said. "I told Rolfe there was a child when there was not." She looked Leonie full in the face and told her the whole truth.

"The child is not Rolfe's, but Evarard's. I used him to conceive the child in case Rolfe took too much time growing tired of you. I really thought he would. When he came back here and didn't go to Pershwick after you immediately, I was sure that was the end of his love for you, so I no longer needed the child as an excuse to stay here."

Leonie warned herself not to react, keeping her features set. Her rival's revelation had fired her love for Rolfe anew, made her want to rush to him and throw her arms around him. But she would not allow Amelia to know how much those words meant. There had to be, when all was said and done, some dignity left to both of them, so she told herself not to permit any show of emotion.

Deciding a swift change of subject was the only route, she said, "Evarard is terribly upset. Fool that he is, he loves you."

"Love?" Amelia replied bitterly. "What is love? My first husband loved me too—until he wed me. Then only other women interested him. Why do you think I was so sure Rolfe would want me after you married him?

Men have no care for their wives."

"I do not think that is always so, Amelia."

Amelia sighed. "Rolfe certainly cares for you."

"And perhaps Evarard would care for you, if you gave him a chance.

He is not blind to your faults, but he loves you. Did he know about his child?"

"No. I would have told him, yet let him think it was Rolfe's. I kept putting it off, because I did not really want to hurt him."

Amelia had had no such hesitations about hurting Rolfe and her, Leonie thought wryly. But she began to believe she could be forgiving in light of what she had just learned.

"Then I see no reason for him to know too much about this," Leonie told her.

"And Rolfe?"

"I am not so impartial where he is concerned. I will not tell him. You will."

"But he will kill me if he knows how I have lied to you both!"

"I think not, Amelia. I think he will be relieved to learn the truth. But if you do not promise to tell him, I will leave you here to . . ."

"You are cruel, Lady Leonie."

"Not so. I simply love my husband and will not have him grieving over a child he thought was his."