Page 76 of Secrets of the Marriage Bed
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Robins came in from the dressing room, carrying a tray. ‘I sent down for some warm milk.’ Robins’s voice was full of sympathy. And something else. Sadness? She placed the glass on the bedside table. ‘This will help you sleep. And I have rewarmed the hot water bottle His Grace sent up earlier.’ She tucked it in between the sheets.
‘You are very kind.’ Julia eyed the tumbler with misgivings. Robins had taken delivery of the tray through the servants’ door tucked away in her dressing room. A way of staff coming and going without disturbing their employers. The question was, did it contain laudanum? And did it arrive at the door already laced, or had Robins added it before she brought it in? Whichever it was, the question of why and on whose behalf continued to torture her.
Robins gave her an encouraging smile. ‘Drink your milk while it is warm.’
Unwillingly, Julia picked up the drink and cradled it in her palms. The idea of warm milk was indeed comforting. She lifted the glass and sniffed.
Laudanum. The scent stronger than usual.
She wanted to hurl the glass across the room. Instead she watched Robins gather up her gown and shawl and carry them off to the dressing room. As quick as she could, she disposed of the milk in the chamber pot she had placed beneath the bed. Robins smiled when she returned. ‘Sleep well, Your Grace.’ She carried the glass away, closing the chamber door behind her.
Julia snuggled deeper under the covers. How did one sleep well with the grinding ache of fear in one’s belly and nagging away in one’s brain. A fear that made it almost impossible to eat or drink anything.
Despite her struggle to keep her eyes open, exhaustion claimed her. She felt herself sinking into darkness. A nap. She would nap for a bit.
* * *
It was hard to breathe.
Something was pressing down on her chest. Something soft was covering her face. She tried to sit up. Too heavy. She fought against the weight flailing. Her hands tangled with her attacker’s hair. She tugged.
A screech of pain. The weight shifted. She grabbed a bony wrist and twisted hard. A yell. Something, or someone, landed on the floor.
Panting, she shot out of bed.
The door between her room and Alistair’s banged against the wall. ‘What the devil is going on?’
Alistair, candle in hand, wearing his dressing gown, his hair dishevelled, stared at first at Julia and then at Robins, who was hunched up on the floor, weeping. A pillow lay next to her on the carpet.
‘Julia?’ he said. ‘Are you all right.’
Julia swallowed.
Alistair stepped towards her. Instinctively, she backed away. His eyes widened. ‘It is all right,’ he said softly, holding out a hand, as if gentling a skittish horse. ‘Tell me what happened.’
She glanced down at Robins. ‘She attacked me.’
‘What?’ He seemed so absolutely stunned, so horrified, she could not help but take comfort in it.
Alistair pulled the weeping Robins to her feet. He shoved her into a chair when she seemed unable to stand unaided. ‘Is this correct?’
The woman cried even harder.
‘Robins,’ Julia said sharply. ‘Answer His Grace.’
The woman hiccupped.
Julia fetched a glass of water from the washstand and shoved it at her. She was so angry she didn’t know why she didn’t throw it in her face. ‘Drink it and calm yourself.’
The woman drank.
‘What the devil is going on?’ Alistair’s voice crackled with ice.
When the woman took in the rage in his face, she shrank away. ‘He said he would kill my daughter.’
‘He?’ Alistair said, his quiet voice far more menacing than a shout.
