Page 36 of Lord of the Darkness

Chapter Fourteen

Finally, they drew up outside the house, with Benedict coming mostly awake as they did. He shifted, cried out in pain, then wisely stayed as still as possible while the others arranged things. Within minutes of their arrival, chaos reigned.

Mrs Haversham regarded him with a disapproving look, and sent a footman off to fetch the physician from the next town. James carried him into the house, and up the long stairs to his bedchamber, Ariana ever at his side.

When Mrs Haversham appeared there a few minutes later, bearing a bowl of steaming water and a pile of cloths, she fixed her eyes on Ariana, and the words slipped from her mouth as if she could not manage forbearance, despite her position in the household.

“What have you caused now, you irresponsible woman? You’ve made his life a misery from the day he married you!”

Ariana drew herself up, and Benedict felt his heart swell with pride.

“Mrs Haversham, you forget yourself. My husband is a hero. He was shot, whilst rescuing me from almost certain death. I freely admit that I wish I had not allowed myself to be trapped, that I had been wiser – but if anyone is to berate me for that, it will be him, not you. Please, let us put that hot water to good use and clean his wound, now that we have him here where we can see what we are doing.”

Mrs Haversham shut her mouth sharply, her features etched with a combination of shock and the beginnings of respect.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Across the room, about to slip out the door, James spoke.

“I’ll be off to deal with the other matter, and fetch the magistrate, as well as send word to Lord Jasper’s family.”

Mrs Haversham spun around at those words, but James was gone before she could ask for more information. She turned back, and set the bowl of water down on a side table as Ariana set about cutting Benedict’s coat away from his shoulder.

***

The magistrate came, and asked them all some questions, even as the physician worked on Benedict, then went away, shaking his head.

“Sorry business this. It’s Lord Wittering I pity the most… I’ll arrange it all from here, Your Grace.”

Then he was gone, and Ariana turned back to grasp Benedict’s hand as he suffered the pain of the physician digging the bullet from his flesh.

She barely slept for the next week, as Benedict endured the ongoing pain of the wound. He became feverish, and she bathed his heated flesh, speaking to him as she did, although he barely seemed to know her, half the time.

All the while, she prayed. Prayed that he would recover, that he would forgive her, that they might have the life together she now dreamed of. Her fears before seemed foolish, and she cast them aside, like the last haunting shadows of her father’s beliefs about life.

Darkmire Abbey no longer seemed oppressive, although she rather suspected that the ghosts remained, watching them. Somehow, that no longer worried her. All that mattered was Benedict.

Finally, his fever broke, and as he dropped into true sleep, she collapsed onto the bed beside him, curled against his side, and allowed herself to sleep too.

Grey morning light slipped through a narrow opening in the curtains when she woke from a dream.

Yet the dream somehow continued, for fingers gently stroked her brow, pushing the tangle of her hair aside. It took some minutes for her to be awake enough to realise that the sensation was real, that it was Benedict’s hand which touched her.

She pushed half upright, and her eyes met his.

“You’re awake! Thank the Good Lord!”

She reached out to touch his brow in turn, and found it to be of a normal temperature, with no trace of fever remaining.

“How long was I feverish? I can’t remember much, except you always being here…”

“A week. You’ve been in and out of delirium for a week. I wouldn’t let them give you too much laudanum, no matter what the physician said – my great aunt died that way.”

She leant forward and brought her lips to his, without hesitation or uncertainty. His lips moved on hers, and the hand that had stroked her brow tangled in her hair, pulling her hard against him. He groaned as her weight touched his shoulder, but kept kissing her, with a passion born of months of aching denial.

When he released her, her breath was uneven, and her heart beat faster than it ever had before in her life.

“Then I’ve a week to make up for, haven’t I? But… now that I’ve done the most important thing first, I find myself remarkably hungry – perhaps you could send for some food?”