Page 31 of Lord of the Darkness

“I don’t want to ruin what we have,” he said aloud, “by continuing to control her like that.”

“It doesn’t sound like there’s much for you to ruin at this point, if what you’ve told me is true. Do come and find me again when you run out.”

***

In the hallway, not far from Benedict’s study, Ariana stood listening with a feeling of mounting horror, exacerbated by the level tones of the men’s voices. She had intended to just let Benedict know that she was going up to their parlour, when she had heard the voices, and stopped.

She would not interrupt if he was speaking with someone. Perhaps she should send Peggy to tell him. But now… she knew that eavesdropping was wrong, but their words had captured her, dragged her in, and she had frozen there, listening. The words were terrible. And they changed everything.

She could never love Benedict again, not after what she had just heard. What was worse, she wasn’t sure she had ever loved him, not if he had done as he’d said, and given her something….

Helena had been right, as she usually was.

Helena had tried to warn her, but Ariana had been so besotted she’d refused to listen. Benedict had never given up trying to control her and their marriage, not really. He had just found other ways to do it. Why go to all the trouble of putting time, energy, and effort into a marriage, why suffer the annoyance of arguments and rebellion, when you could buy love in a glass jar? Why work to earn someone’s respect when you could trick them into giving it?

At the very point when she had begun to feel safe in their relationship, her feelings had been being manipulated by the man she had thought to trust.

She could never be really safe, not here, not with him – not anywhere near him. She would only be safe if she left the dreadful darkness of Darkmire Abbey, with its history of illness, poison, and madness.

She turned away, moving quietly, hurrying to the stairs.

She didn’t know where she was going to go – for going to her mother was not an option – this would break her mother’s heart. But she knew that she had to leave now, before Benedict followed his friend’s advice, poisoned her tea again, and made her powerless to resist him.

Hurrying upstairs as quietly as she could, she packed a change of clothes, her brush, hand mirror and one book into a small valise. Then, while Benedict and Fitzherbert continued to talk in the study, she slipped out through the servants’ door into the bitterly cold sleet and rain.

There was one place she could go – one place where she could be certain that she would not be turned away. It was not a choice she was happy making, but it was better than the thought of spending the night ahead in some soaking wet hedgerow or cow byre.

***

When they had finished speaking together in his study, Benedict asked a footman to bring Ariana to the parlour, so that he might introduce her to James. The footman returned, looking most alarmed, to say that Her Grace was missing, and that the kitchen boy had seen her go out into the rain at dusk.

Benedict could not imagine why she might have done such a thing - fear filled him, and without further discussion, he called for his heaviest cloak, and sent the footman to have the carriage prepared.

Whilst they waited for it to be brought around, he searched the gardens and nearby area, hoping that perhaps Ariana had wanted to walk, and had ended up taking shelter from the rain in the stables or the like. But his searching was to no avail.

He returned to the house, deeply worried, James at his side.

“Where could she have gone? And why? Perhaps the village, do you think?”

“But Benedict, what would take her there? And why did she leave the house in the first place?”

Benedict faced his friend, and a chill from far more than the rain filled him. What if Ariana had overheard…?

“You don’t suppose…?”

“That she overheard us? She might well have done so, and that would certainly explain her leaving the house in a hurry, if she took it entirely the wrong way.”

Benedict glared at James, fear for Ariana, and fear for all hope of restoring their marriage making him shake where he stood.

“I should never have listened to you, should never have used that potion!”

“Ah… Benedict, I have a confession to make.”

“A confession?”

“That potion… it was never more than some water with a squeeze of lemon juice added. It did absolutely nothing to Ariana – if she loved you, she loved you for yourself. All that potion did was give you a bit more confidence about the whole situation…”

Benedict stared at his friend, astounded. He was pleased – she actually loved him – or she had – yet he was horrified – for what she had overheard had just destroyed that love, perhaps forever. He had to find her.