Page 45 of Scars of a Passionate Revenge
“Benedict, you must know what I am referring to,” she said slowly.
He narrowed his eyes and stared at her. “Tell me what you mean,” he said, annunciating each word very clearly.
She could tell that he was angry, and although she was not afraid, she was deeply confused. Perhaps he really could remember nothing of the fire? But he had spoken of it, so surely he must have some memories? She let out a sigh. Her only option, it seemed, was to tell him everything that she knew. She took a deep breath and began.
“Your father fled from the estate after stealing the Arabian horses. Everyone knew that was what had happened,” she said. “That is why I have held back, Benedict, from falling in love with you. That is why I have been so worried about you meeting my family, in case they recognized you.”
“Your stepmother would not remember such a lowly wretch as me,” Benedict said bitterly. “Nor your father either, I should imagine.”
Alice felt a wave of despair sweeping over her. “I did not mean to cause you distress, Benedict. But that is what I was always told. There was a fire, which I know you can remember, and I was told that your father must have started the fire, to provide some cover for the theft, and then you both fled, with the Sheriff hot on your heels.”
Benedict let out a ragged sigh. “Yes, that is the story that you would have been fed, I am sure!”
Alice shook her head. “No, it wasn’t a story! The head groom and my stepmother came into the drawing room in the morning, the night after the fire, and told my father and I that the horses were gone, and the barn completely destroyed, and that you and your father had vanished. What other explanation could there be?”
She saw the confusion and anger on his face and wished she could go back in time, and erase what she had said. But they had to speak of this openly, or else they could never be together.
Benedict stood up and reached for the telescope, which lay discarded on the blanket next to Alice. He began to fold it up, and then placed it in his bag. “Get up, Alice,” he ordered her, his tone harsh. “We must go back to the house, before someone notices we are gone. Or before they send for the Sheriff to catch me and put me in prison for stealing His Lordship’s telescope!”
Alice bit her lip, trying hard not to cry, but did as he told her. He quickly gathered up the blanket and shoved it into his bag.
“Benedict, I am sorry,” she whispered, wiping away a stray tear that was making its way down her cheek.
“You were right to tell me what you know,” he said gruffly. “Or at least, what you think you know. Come on, let’s go.”
Reluctantly, she followed him along the path back towards the house, gulping back the tears with each step that she took.
***
Benedict threw himself onto his bed, without even bothering to get undressed. His mind was in turmoil, and he was under no illusions; he would not sleep tonight.
He went over and over in his mind what Alice had said, as the hours of the night crept on. She had been told that he and his father had fled, and the horses had gone. Everyone had assumed his father was guilty.
But his father had insisted, until the moment of his death, that he was innocent. Benedict had asked him many times why he had not stayed at the estate, stood his ground, and defended himself—proven his innocence—but his father had always said that he had known it was pointless. What chance had a working man like him against a man as powerful as the baron?
And so they had fled in the night, like criminals, even though his father had done nothing wrong. And his father had gone to the grave having been unable to clear his name.
He knew he had done wrong by Alice, even worse than he had intended. He had taken her virtue, but in the end, he had done it without cruelty, and in fact, with affection, and deep enjoyment. He remembered as he lay in the darkness the softness of her skin and how easily she had given way to him, how their bodies had moved together in a perfect rhythm, until they had both reached their peak.
How perfect it had been. He had almost been ready, after that moment, to give up on his hopes of revenge, and to ask her to be his wife.
But then she had mentioned the fire, and the horses, and the alleged theft, and all his anger and frustration had come back to him.
He knew that he had to go to the baron and make himself known, and demand to know what had really happened that night. How could a man such as the baron settle so easily for a such a simplistic explanation, and let a good man go from his job without any proof of guilt? It made no sense.
As the early morning light began to filter its way through his window, he reached a decision. He would have to leave, and head to London, as early this morning as possible. Of course, he still had the letter that he had written to the baron in his possession, and he would use it if he needed to, but he would hold back for now.
He wrote a quick note to Cecil, explaining that a business matter had arisen in London that required his urgent attention, and that he had to leave immediately. Then he dressed and packed his things quickly, then left his room, pulling his jacket on hastily as he went.
He ran down the stairs and rang the bell for the butler, who emerged a little while later, rubbing his eyes.
“Forgive me for waking you, but I must leave immediately. Is there a carriage that can take me to London, or must I take the post-chaise?”
The butler looked at him curiously. “Are you quite well, Sir?”
Benedict blinked. He must look a fright, having not slept at all during the night and having spent time rolling around on a blanket in the middle of the woods with Alice before everything went so horrible wrong. He pushed a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it down. “I am quite well,” he replied quickly. “I simply must get back to attend to a business emergency.”
“Very well, Sir, I will call James and see how far he can take you on your journey. You will need to wait a little while, for him to prepare the horses. I will ask one of the maids to bring you some coffee. Perhaps you would care to wait in the drawing room?”
