The Curse of Becton Manor by Patricia Ayling

Author:Patricia Ayling [Ayling, Patricia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Burning Chair Limited
Published: 2021-02-01T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Spring 1598

Mary remained unconscious, prayers held every morning and evening to beg for her to recover. The earl sat one side of her bedside and his son on the other.

‘Will she ever greet me again, Oliver, in her beautiful red dress? She is desperate to get to court, you know. I don’t know why. She prefers to run wild and free, like Sabre. She watched you all the time as you were growing up. She so wanted to join in your games, to be strong, climb trees and catch butterflies and moths.’

A tear escaped from Oliver’s pooling eyes.

‘Yes, father. She was better than me at catching insects. So quick.’ They managed a weak smile but neither could sustain it.

Lady Charlotte did not stay long away from her bedside. She now joined them, occasionally giving way to loud wails. ‘I cannot bear this, William. I cannot bear it.’

Oliver sobbed. His mother hugged him close, before he suddenly broke from her clutches and ran from the room.

Frances stood at the back of the room in attendance. She wanted to run after Oliver but knew she must stay where she was in case her mistress needed her. Lady Charlotte sat opposite her husband.

She and the earl each held a delicate white hand in theirs. Then Mary suddenly called out in a piercing shriek: a banshee from another world.

Her body writhed and struggled with God-only-knew-what. Blood, mixed with spittle, oozed from her tightly clenched teeth. Urine dripped onto the floor after the sheet could no longer absorb it, and the bedhead rhythmically creaked at the strain of her tormented frame.

‘Tell Henry to fetch the physician, now… Now, I said!’ Charlotte screamed at Frances. The horrified housekeeper was jolted into action.

‘Yes, my lady.’ She turned and ran down the stairs. The earl was helpless. He knew the physician could not help her.

As suddenly as it had started, it stopped. She was lifeless: her lips blue, her body mottled.

For a moment, Lady Charlotte’s astonishment froze her to the spot, staring with anguish at her beautiful daughter. Mary’s chest no longer rose and fell. She slowly stood and shook her daughter’s shoulders, protesting vehemently at this sudden end.

‘The demons cannot have her, they cannot take her! No…no!’ She put the palms of her hands together and looked up to the heavens. ‘Mercy, oh mercy!’

The earl walked around the bed and placed his arm around his wife.

‘Charlotte…it is not to be.’

Charlotte swung her body round to reject his supportive arm. She raised her voice. ‘Don’t you see…? This is divine retribution, William! Punishment for letting Father Peters go and for renouncing our faith. Don’t you understand? What have we done?’

No one answered her questions. She hung her head low…until she rose and announced: ‘It was her, wasn’t it? Kathleen and her poisons?’

There was a demonic look in her eyes.

‘She has to suffer, the way I am suffering now. She will never come here again and people must know that she is not to be trusted.’

Her words resonated. Oliver ran across the landing towards the bedroom.

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