Page 35 of Scars of a Passionate Revenge
Alice nodded. “it was such terrific fun, that summer.” She gazed at him as they rode along next to each other. “I am so glad that you remember, Benedict.”
He smiled, but in his mind, he was going over all the other things that he remembered too. He wished that life were simple, and he could just enjoy the memories of the time he had spent with Alice, but the truth was that he was also beginning to remember exactly what had happened to him and his father, after they had been forced to leave the baron’s estate. And those memories were not at all pleasant to recall.
And no matter how much joy he found in Alice’s company, no matter how happy she made him and no matter how much she was coming to mean to him, he was going to have to betray her in the worst possible way to get his revenge. And the thought of it made him feel sick to his stomach.
***
That night, after dinner, Benedict returned to his chamber. The rest of the party were engaged in card games, but Benedict was finding it hard to conceal his emotions so he decided that it would be better for him to spend some time alone, thinking things through.
He sat next to the window and looked out into the dark night.
The fire... he could remember it clearly now. The hay in the stables had caught alight somehow. He had no idea how the fire started, but it all happened so quickly. He was trapped, and the horses were trapped. He knew that he had to release them, even though he was terrified and every instinct in his mind and body was telling him to run.
So he released the horses, crawling across the stable to reach them, then the door of the stable cracked him on the head, and everything went black.
The next thing he knew, he was lying on the ground outside the stables, his head pounding and an excruciating pain in his arm. Had one of the horses kicked him on their way past him and out into the fresh night air? He could not remember even now, but that seemed the most likely explanation for his injury.
And then his father was there, telling him that the horses were gone. But how could they be gone? Surely they would have run straight for their pasture when they were released from their stables. Benedict remembered being confused and afraid, as well as in pain.
There was still a gap in his memory as to what happened afterwards, but the next thing he remembered—and he was not sure if it was days later, or only hours later—was his father telling him that the baron had dismissed him from his employment, as he was accused of stealing the Arabian horses, and that they had to flee, in case the Sheriff caught up with them and threw him in jail.
Benedict jumped to his feet and paced up and down the room as he mulled over the memories. He had always known that his father had been falsely accused, and that the trouble all stemmed from the night of the fire, but now things were becoming clearer, although he still did not know the full truth of what had happened that fateful night. But he had no doubt as to who was to blame, and it was not his father.
He prepared himself for bed, not expecting to sleep, but hoping at least to get some rest to prepare himself for what was to come tomorrow. Because finally, his plan was falling into place in his head. But could he go through with it?
The question played on his mind throughout the whole of the disturbed night, as he tossed and turned in bed. Sleep escaped him as his thoughts flew around in turmoil in his mind.
The following morning, he rose from his bed feeling even more angry than he had the previous evening. His father had been so disappointed that the baron had suspected him, so hurt and betrayed that the man he had served with loyalty all this time would turn him away with hardly a second thought.
And in fact in the end the baron had not even dismissed him himself; he had given the task to Lady Danneville, who had seemed to relish every moment of it. He remembered now how she had treated Alice at the ball and during their tea party and he felt a surge of hatred for the woman. Well, she would suffer too when the family were ruined. He would make sure of it.
And then, after the dismissal, he and his father had fled from the estate with nothing more than the clothes on their back. That first night they had not been able to find any shelter, so they had been forced to sleep by the roadside in the wind and the rain. And the fight for survival had continued in the coming days; there was never enough food, and Benedict remembered the feeling of never getting warm, never feeling comfortable or safe.
And then finally he and his father had found work at a coal mine, and things had improved a little, as they had some money coming in and could pay to stay in the most rudimentary of lodgings, and to fill their stomachs most days, but it was a rough life, especially for a young boy. And the work in the mine was hard.
The hours were long, and Benedict remembered emerging out of the mouth of the mine and out into the failing daylight with every muscle in his body aching and sore. And the baron had done this to them, for no reason and with no justification.
Benedict got out of bed and dressed himself with a new sense of determination. Today he would put things into place to start the next phase of his plan. He would tell no one that his memories were returning even more quickly and clearly, least of all Alice. It would only complicate things.
He thought for a moment of Alice, as he stood in front of the looking glass and tied his cravat. He regretted it very much that she was going to suffer, that she would be caught in the middle of all this, but there was nothing else he could do. The baron had to pay for what he had done, and now that he had formed a close bond with Alice, the opportunity was too good to miss.
He sat down at his bureau and began to write a letter to the baron.
You may well be wondering who I am,he wrote.If you look back into your memory, you might perhaps remember a man named Daniel Fletcher, who you and your wife dismissed from your employ after you falsely accused him of stealing your Arabian horses. That night, you set a chain of events in motion which has only just now begun to run at full speed.
I have compromised your daughter, you see. I have ruined her reputation, but I will never marry her. She will be ruined, and the scandal will stay with your family for generations. And you only have yourself to blame. You and your wife. For what you did to my father, and to me.
I wish you luck in trying to repair Alice’s reputation and finding some poor man who will marry her. Note that I do not say gentleman because now there is no hope of that. You should know that it is you yourself who has ruined her life, not me, because of your actions all those years ago. The past has caught up with you, My Lord, and I have taken my revenge.
He signed the letter with a flourish, then folded it and placed it in his jacket pocket. He did not yet know when he would send it, because he did not know the exact moment that he would compromise Alice, but when the moment was nigh, he decided that he would depart from the house party immediately, post the letter, leave Bath behind, and return to London.
And from there, who knew what he would do next. Benedict knew he would never see Alice again, but at least he would have had his revenge on her father for what he did to his own father, all those years ago.
Chapter 16
A little later in the day, after the party had spent the morning taking walks around the grounds or writing letters to their friends and family at home, everyone convened on a large grassy area in front of the house. The sun was shining brightly, and Lady Shrewsford had decided that this afternoon they would all play games outside, then enjoy a picnic together.
When Benedict heard of the plans for the rest of the day, he felt a flush of satisfaction that things were working out so well in his favor. It could not have turned out better.
