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In the end, they were both wrong. It wasn't a blow with a knife or the cleverly added fatal spice for the meal, no, those attackers proved to be far more cunning. They waited patiently for the nearly 3 days long party to end, until the afternoon when the estate was filled with the hubbub associated with the departure of a large number of guests; until Charles and his friends lowered their guard; until they felt safe. Then they attacked.
"Charles! Charles!" The outcry caused by Anthony running towards him, immediately caught Brandon's attention.
"What?" What, in the name of God! "He asked when his friend stopped next to him, panting.
Anthony, almost out of breath, bent double, his hand on his knees, gasping for air.
"Mary..., Mary... Went... ride... alone" he finally managed to utter.
"She did that every day when we weren't here." Charles's voice trailed off as his eyes widened in panic. Mary was alone. She had been riding alone for months. The same route. Always. By now, everyone knew about it. What a fool he turned out to be! He rushed toward the stables where William was already leading out three saddled horses.
Mary had begun her ritual of rides not quite a week after her arrival in Bradgate. Because she didn't crave company she usually chose to stay near the estate. The closeness of home made her felt safe and she didn't have to bring a servant, which suited her. It wasn't much, but the stolen moments, few though they were, were precious to her. She adored the feel of the wind in her hair during the ride. She felt free and happy, as if nothing could hurt her. She could enjoy the rays of sunshine that caressed her skin and, if only for a moment, pretend that she was still a little girl, with loving parents and adored by everyone. The horse trembled and Mary frowned, tightening her reins. The animal was clearly alarmed. Mary unwittingly tensed which caused the saddle to press more strongly into the horse's back. The horse neighed dangerously and tried to raise his forelegs in protest.
"Easy, easy there". Despite how young she was, Mary considered herself to be an experienced rider. She didn't understand what was happening to her usually calm stallion.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed three riders galloping in her direction and breathed a sigh of relief, not aware that she would seal her fate with that one gesture. The horse broke from her grip and, after running a few strides, again raised his forelegs with a squeal expressing his pain. Completely unprepared, Mary didn't even have time to shout before she fell, hitting the ground with a thud.
Charles watched it all in slow motion. It seemed that they were so close, that in just a minute they would reach her, so he even started thinking what kind of excuse they could give her to justify themselves when the horse suddenly lunged forward.
"No!" he shouted, knowing exactly what was going to happen. Even he himself would have had a problem staying in the saddle, let alone his petite wife. He spurred his own mount on in a desperate attempt to reach her and save her but all he could do was to watch her fall, helpless to save her.
Seconds later, both he and Anthony were at her side. William leaped to the horse, trying to take control of the animal before it could cause any more damage.
"Mary? Mary!" Charles screamed, gently moving his trembling hand to her face, but he was too afraid to touch her. Anthony pushed his hands away and lowered his head above her face. A smile of relief lightened his face when on his cheek felt the waft of air- her breath.
"She's breathing" he announced. "Charles, she's breathing."
Mary coughed and gasped as her eyelids fluttered. She'd been riding and all of a sudden, her horse had gone mad. She couldn't help but fall. Still, what a shame! She could hear voices calling her. One was particularly familiar. It was a nice voice, it was promising her safety.
"Mary?" Charles repeated, seeing that she was regaining consciousness. "Please Princess, open your eyes for me" he begged, only half joking.
"Charles" she identified his voice before even opening her eyes.
"Welcome back princess" he smiled relived seeing her opened eyes and clear gaze.
"I fell off a horse, didn't I? I'm so sorry." she said, ashamed.
"It's nothing, my lady, it could have happened to anyone." Anthony tried to comfort her
"Are you in pain? Have you hurt yourself?" Charles asked, while moving his hands over her shoulders, searching for fractures.
"No, I'm fine" Only now did Mary realise how she had to look, lying crumpled on the ground with two men leaning over her. Mortified she tried to get up, but Charles's strong hand stopped her. Gently he helped her to sit up and moved so that she could lean against him. With his left hand he held by the waist to keep her dress in place while using the skilful fingers of the right one to loosen her bodice which, no matter how improper the gesture was, Mary accepted with gratitude. At least she could breathe. Anthony understood the silent command and gently inspected her ankles.
"The Duchess is safe and sound." he winked at her
Charles nodded his head and gently swept her hair aside looking for a head wound. From previous experience he knew that it could turn out to be more dangerous than broken bones.
"Oww" she hissed hiding her face in his chest when his fingers came across the throbbing spot.
"I'm sorry." he whispered stroking the cut and moving her hair which had escaped her braid and caught on his beard "I'm very sorry ". He lowered his lips and kissed the wound, wishing he could take her pain away.
"You have nothing to be sorry about. It was my fault, not yours. Just a stupid accident. I haven't fallen off a horse since I was a child." she admitted, her voice trembling as it started to dawn upon her what could have happened, had she been unlucky. She could have died. That could have been her last day on earth.
Charles continued stroking her head soothingly, even when William approached them. Compton's face was hardened in the grimace of fierce anger. Before Charles managed to ask about it William opened his fist showing them a big bent nail which had been stuck under the saddle.
Charles immediately stiffened. Mary was wrong, it was not an accident. Sensing the change in his posture, Mary started to raise her head from his chest, but his hand on her neck kept her in place until William hidden the evidence in his pocket. She didn't need to know that someone had wanted her dead. They would deal with it later.
"I believe the Duchess has had enough for one day, it's time we got back home." Anthony suggested, getting up and stretching out his arms in a silent offer, but Charles only shook his head.
"Put your hands around my neck." he instructed his wife as he twisted her in his lap and, when she did so, he easily got up with her in his arms. She was as light as a child.
"What about the horse?" Mary asked worried about the poor animal.
"The horse is fine my lady, I'll take care of him." William assured her.
"But still " Mary tried to speak more but at that moment her husband tightened his grip on her
"Enough . We need to get you home, Mary. You may not have broken anything, but you're shaken up and you'll be pretty bruised too, I don't doubt. You need to rest. Upon hearing his tone, Mary fell silent. It appeared that the worried and caring man who had coddled her in his arms only a minute ago had disappeared and been replaced by this furious brute, who was glaring around and barking orders, the veins on his neck and temple pulsing dangerously. She hoped that it wasn't because of her clumsiness. After all, she hadn't wanted to fall off her horse. Hesitantly, Mary went quiet. She clamped her hands on his neck and buried her face in the hollow between his neck and shoulder. She didn't want Bradgate's residents to see her like that. Charles pressed his cheek against her ruffled hair and mumbled some incomprehensible words before they all entered the estate. At the sight of the Duchess's scratched and bruised form, Mrs Nurrows almost fainted. Immediately she called the housemaids and prescribed a hot bath and herbs which would help their poor Lady. She kept talking and ordering people around, all the time glaring at the three men. They should have prevented it from happening!
Charles could not disagree with her. Leaving his wife in her efficient hands, he went to the stables, taking his friends with him. Silently, he turned the nail that William had found over in his hands. It was slippery with blood which meant that Mary's weight had dug it into the horse's back and that was what had caused the whole accident.
"Who saddled the Duchess's horse?" he asked severely, when all the stablemen stood before him. The news about the accident had already spread all over the estate and now each of them was afraid of the Duke's anger.
"It was me Master" Ian moved ahead. Charles and Anthony exchanged quick glances.
The old man had been serving at Bradgate as long as Mrs Nurrows had and he adored horses. They would rather believe that he had killed a man in cold blood than that he had been the one who hurt the horse. Charles dismissed the remaining stablemen and turned to Ian.
"Do you have any idea how this could end up under my wife's saddle?" he asked showing the older man the nail he was holding.
Ian's Adam's apple flickered, and his face reddened with anger at the fact that somebody had dared to harm one of his horses.
"No, My Lord. It wasn't there when I saddled the horse up. I swear on all the sanctities." he vowed "but I did leave the horse alone when I went to saddle horses for the remaining guests. People were getting impatient in the courtyard, Sir." he completed unsteadily, reproaching himself for his own stupidity. He shouldn't have left the Duchess's horse. He shouldn't have.
Charles nodded, accepting his explanation. He believed Ian, but who could have done it? And most importantly why? Had they wanted to kill Mary or just frighten her? Was it a real attempt on her life or merely a warning?
"Charles, if you let us stay a bit longer we will question the servants and try to get to the bottom of this." Anthony suggested when Charles dismissed Ian after forbidding him to mention the real cause of the accident to anybody.
"Thank you" Charles rested his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Forgive me now, but I must see how Mary's doing."
"You really care for her, don't you?" Anthony stated quietly.
"Of course I do. It's my duty to protect her." Charles said quickly
"If you say so."
Without another word, Charles moved toward the stairs. Although Mrs Nurrows assured him that the Duchess was well and was preparing to get some rest he simply had to make sure. The picture of her falling and then lying motionless on the grass was haunting him. He entered her bedchamber for the first time since their marriage day and, with a gesture, sent servants away. Mary had bathed and now dressed in a white nightdress, which was tightly covering her body, stood opposite her husband, unsure as to what his visit could indicate. Was he still angry?
"I wanted to ask how you were."
She smiled at his words, relieved that he was not here to yell at her.
"I'm quite well" she answered and, seeing his disbelieving gaze, slightly shrugged her shoulders. "All right, if you must know, I'm a little sore." she admitted quietly.
Charles's eyes snapped to her creamy shoulder which was exposed due to the move and the change in clothes. He clenched his teeth at the sight of the dark spot on her light skin and covered the distance between them in two steps. From close up the bruise looked even worse. It was a sign, a symbol of his failure.
"Does it hurt?" he asked raising his hand and gently moving his thumb over the bruise.
Mary trembled. His deep voice and tender caress completely disarmed her. She wanted him to hug her, to cuddle her to him like he had done before, so she could feel safe and protected. But they had their boundaries, and she couldn't pass them.
Charles noticed her shivering and without a word pulled her toward the bed.
"It's getting cold, and it's been a long day, you really should rest." he drew the bedding aside, making room for her. Mary quickly slipped into the middle. She knew she should have dried her hair first, but she was simply too tired to do that; the bed looked so good, so inviting. Meanwhile, Charles took the the blanket and covered her up, tucking it around her shoulders.
"Warmer?" he asked, sitting on the edge of her bed. He couldn't bring himself to leave her chamber, no matter how many times he told himself to do so. He wasn't able to. As long as he could look at her, he knew that she was safe, that nothing bad had happened.
His hand moved to her head and he frowned.
"Do you want to get pneumonia?" he scolded her. Mary's lips trembled, and her eyes shone with unshed tears. She knew that she should have undone her hair, but she didn't want to do it when he was there. This action seemed to be so... intimate. Worried that her behaviour would only intensify his anger, she reached for the ribbon, but Charles was faster.
"Why do women insist on wearing their hair long?" he griped while his fingers cautiously spread her wet hair on the pillow.
"Because we want to be beautiful?" Mary suggested shyly, unnerved by his proximity. It was strange to be so close to this man, to let him touch her hair like that. She could feel his long fingers in her hair and suddenly remembered how they had felt when he had loosened up her bodice and when she had lain curled in his arms.
"You already are." he muttered and Mary blushed, averting her gaze. When he was through with his task he covered her with the extra blanket.
"You need to sleep now. Mrs Nurrows said the herbs would help."
Obediently she closed her eyes, but when she felt him begin to get up, raw instinct won against courtesy and her hand convulsively clenched on his sleeve.
"Please... Don't leave me here. I don't want to be alone" she whispered. She was still in shock over what could have happened, still afraid.
Charles gently patted her hand, loosening the fingers that were clenched round his robes.
"Where did you get that idea? Of course I'm staying. I will be here, by the fireplace, you don't have to be afraid." Charles pointed to the comfy armchair next to the room's large fireplace.
Mary calmed down instantly.
"Sleep." Charles repeated, but this time he couldn't resist temptation. He bent and gently kissed her smooth forehead, then turned back quickly, before his treacherous body could betray him. Rigid with anxiety, she watched his back until he actually sat down. She smiled, she shouldn't have worried. Her husband was a man of his word.
She could be happy here. That thought surprised Mary. She could be happy as just another lady, a nobleman's wife. Not a Queen, not a Princess. Just a nobleman's wife. She could be truly happy, here in this house, among people who cared about her, who looked after her. She could be happy here with him, a man almost twice her age, with strong arms and a delicate touch. Her eyes glided to her husband. But... Mary shook. Could she even consider it? Could she forget about who she was? Her mother, her poor mother had suffered so terribly just so that she, Mary, could keep her status. So that she could continue to call herself the Princess of Wales, the future Queen of England.
Charles listened to her breathing. He easily noticed when she fell asleep. Theoretically, he should have taken the chance to leave. It wouldn't make any difference, Mary slept calmly. Yet he sat in the armchair rubbing his chin. Despite what he had told Anthony, he knew that his friend had been right. Mary had changed from a simple obligation. She had become someone important to him; he was becoming attached to her. It wouldn't have been a problem if his feelings had stayed platonic, but in fact they were far from that. He noticed many things about her. Her skin was so soft to the touch, and her smell seemed to cling to him. And her face. Good heavens, every man who looked at her face had to wonder exactly how those raspberry lips would taste. Charles rubbed his eyes. He wasn't going to lie to himself. He wanted her, as any hot-blooded man would want a woman. When he made himself aware of that, he turned his head to look at her petite figure huddled in the bed. She trusted him, she slept so calmly because she trusted him the way she would trust her defender or brother, not a lover. Charles cursed himself. There was a completely rational explanation for this. It had simply been too long since he had had a woman to warm his bed. In Bradgate he didn't want to take a girl to his bed knowing as he did that it would be an offense to his wife, and his body, not used to celibacy, had decided to rebel against his mind. But he was too old to let himself be driven by those kinds of urges. Mary might be his wife in name, but she was still just a girl. She would never trust him again if he insisted on taking his conjugal rights. No. In practice, she had to stay his ward. Nothing more than that. Nothing.
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