Page 3 of Lord of the Darkness

Hazelworth had led Benedict away into an adjoining room, out of sight of the woman he would soon be marrying, and spoken quietly.

“I wanted to thank you again for making this arrangement on such short notice. The property will become my daughter’s – and therefore yours - on my death, so within a few months you’ll be the master of Hazelworth Hall. I just ask that you get married soon, so that I can attend the wedding.”

“How soon were you thinking?” Benedict had asked, for the contracts had dealt with conditions, and money, not dates.

“Within the next week or two. If it’s quite convenient, of course – I have already sent to arrange a special license.”

“I don’t see any reason to put it off.” In a lower voice Benedict added, “And you’re sure that Lady Ariana has no objections?”

“No, none at all, Your Grace” Hazelworth had said, a little too quickly, now that Benedict considered it in hindsight. “Ariana likes to think of herself as unique and special, but she’s no different from any other girl in this respect: she dreams of marrying a handsome young Lord such as yourself. She always has.”

Benedict had nodded, accepting the man’s word – but now, as the moment of marriage approached, he asked himself if he should have.

That Benedict had only actually spoken to Lady Ariana for the first time after the marriage contracts had been signed had not seemed out of place – in the ton, arranged marriages were most common. But now, as he made his way downstairs to take the short carriage journey to Hazelworth Hall, he wondered again if he was making a mistake.

What if the marriage made her miserable? What would he do?

***

Ariana was proud of herself. She had managed it without either bursting into tears or erupting in angry denial. But now she was married. The very idea made her shiver with a combination of fear and despair.

His Grace of Darkmire was handsome – that she had to admit – but he seemed brooding, and perhaps as dark of nature as the rumours suggested he might be. The Lord of the Darkness, the locals called him, in whispers – before they went on to whisper about his father having been the same, forbidding, and reclusive, and about his mother’s untimely death and possible madness.

That she was now married to such a man was frightening, especially as her father had so blithely waved off those rumours, and told her that she should be pleased. The only thing about it all which might be even a little pleasing was that she was out of her father’s house, out of his domineering control – but perhaps the man who now held her fate in his hands could be worse?

She had no way to tell, and she was alone – not even the maid who had been with her most of her life was there to reassure her, for Milly had been required to stay on at Hazelworth Hall, to attend to Lady Hazelworth.

Her father had simply told her that there would be a maid for her at Darkmire Abbey.

As the carriage rumbled over the hard-packed earth, carrying her towards her new home, she squeezed herself against the corner of the carriage seat and the door, diagonally opposite His Grace – her husband! – and stared out of the window at the familiar fields passing by.

Perhaps, if she ignored him, he would leave her alone – at least until they arrived at Darkmire Abbey.

After that, she had no idea how she would go on – beyond being determined to avoid her responsibilities as a wife for as long as possible.

Maybe she should write to her friend Helena, and seek her advice – or at least her commiseration.

***

Benedict had always assumed that his wedding night would go better than this.

He and his new bride were sitting on opposite sides of the carriage, Ariana pressed so far against the door that she was in danger of falling out onto the road should the door open accidentally. She hadn’t spoken more than a few words since the wedding, and when Benedict had asked how she was feeling her response had been cold and perfunctory.

They were travelling along the familiar road to Darkmire Abbey, and once there, he would introduce her to the staff, and hope that, when the time came to retire, she would have warmed a little to him.

Most newlyweds would have thrilled at the prospect of seeing their new home, and spending the first night with their new husband, but it seemed almost as if Ariana would rather have been anywhere else.

“We’ll be there soon.”

“Mmmm,” said Ariana. Arms folded, shoulders slumped, she reminded him of a petulant child. Benedict had the unhappy suspicion that she was trying to goad him on purpose, but he had resolved not to lose his temper.

“I think that your father was most happy to see us wed, given how ill he is.”

He should feel something other than happy - probably guilty, if your reactions are any indication of what has really happened here, Benedict had to refrain from adding.

Ariana’s father was the only reason that they were in what he was rapidly coming to regard as an unpleasant predicament. Three hours into the marriage, Benedict was already beginning to doubt whether Ariana had ever harboured such dreams as her father had claimed. As the carriage bumped across the ford over the Darkmire River, Ariana turned away from him and began trying to read a book by the light which came through the window — this despite the fact that the autumn day was cloudy and the light dimming with the approach of evening.

“Do you really need to be reading right now? We’ve almost reached Darkmire Abbey.” When Ariana said nothing, he added in a louder voice, “You’ll strain your eyes!”