“But you know, Hastings, she is cold, that one. She plots and schemes and smiles that beautiful smile all the while.” He leaned cl
oser, but not that much closer because his belly was so big. “Watch her, Hastings. All know of the poisoned wine. Many believe she put the poison in your goblet, despite her beauty.”
“I don’t want to watch her. I want her to leave.”
MacDear shrugged, turned, and yelled at one of the kitchen boys who was coming toward him, carrying a loaf of bread, “Hugh, you cocky little maggot, did you burn that bread?” He said to Hastings in a much lower voice, “Then send her back. Do it, Hastings. Do it today.”
As she walked back into the great hall, her head bowed, deep in thought, she realized she wanted Severin to love her, regardless of Marjorie or any other glorious creature who just might cross his path. She wanted him to see only her. And she didn’t want to use a damned love potion to bring that about.
Her side still hurt. Too much bending and stretching in her garden. She hugged herself as she walked up the solar stairs to her bedchamber. Two more days and the Healer would cut out the black stitches. Then Severin would punish her for running away from Oxborough. Perhaps then too he would come back to her bed.
Severin sat in his high-backed chair. He looked imperious. He looked cold and stern. Normally when he dealt with Eloise, he came down on his haunches to be at her eye level; he softened his voice. Not this time.
He said, “Come here, Eloise. Don’t dawdle. I have not much time to spend with you.”
He said nothing more, merely began to tap his fingertips against the arms of his chair. Hastings sat beside him, her hands in her lap. She saw Marjorie in the shadows of the great hall just beyond the mammoth fireplace. Severin had told her that he wanted to speak to Eloise alone.
She had merely nodded, not arguing with him.
Hastings waited.
Eloise crept several feet closer, her head down. She was twisting her fingers together. Severin did not appear to be moved by the child’s obvious distress.
“You accused my wife of poisoning herself. You will tell me why you said this.”
The child began to shake. She sobbed.
“Enough!” Severin roared. “I will not have any more of your nonsense, Eloise. You made a grave charge against Hastings. You will answer it or else you will displease me mightily.”
To Hastings’s surprise, Eloise hiccuped once, then raised her head. She stared at Hastings. Her young face, so smooth and clear, suddenly twisted. “I saw her,” she yelled, pointing her finger at Hastings. “Aye, I saw her sneak into the hall, looking to see if anyone was about, then she poured this powder into her own goblet.”
“When?” Severin asked, sitting forward in his chair. “When did you observe Hastings doing this?”
“Yesterday, just before the dinner.”
“What was she wearing when she did this?”
“Wearing?” Eloise suddenly jerked about to search out Marjorie.
“What, Eloise? Look at me!”
The child looked ready to burst into tears. She looked ready to flee.
“I don’t remember,” Eloise whispered, her head down, her feet scuffing the reeds.
Edgar the wolfhound snarled, then quieted again.
“It was only yesterday, Eloise.”
“She was wearing the gown she wore to the meal. Aye, that was it. It was that yellow color that makes her look sallow.”
Severin leaned forward only to have Eloise shrink back. “Hold still,” he barked at her. “Now, you will listen to me, Eloise. I have never seen this hall empty of people. You say that no one was in the great hall, no one except you and Hastings?”
“Aye, that’s true. She didn’t see me. I was hiding.”
Severin rubbed his jaw. Then he called out, “Dame Agnes, please come forward.” When she was standing next to Eloise, he continued. “Tell me of Hastings’s movements just before the dinner meal yesterday.”
“She was with me, your mother, and Alice. We were dressing her in the saffron gown. She was with us until all of us came down into the great hall together for the evening meal.”