Page 28 of Lord of the Darkness

Chapter Eleven

The day of the funeral dawned grey and icy cold, with a hard frost on the ground. In the churchyard, the stone angels bore trailing feathers of ice on their wings as Lord Hazelworth was laid to rest in the family crypt.

Ariana stood between Benedict and Lady Hazelworth, her fingers as numb as her heart felt. There were few mourners, so deep in winter, for none of Lord Hazelworth’s relatives had been able to travel the treacherous roads to be there, and few in the district felt enough kinship with him to display even false grief at such a time of year.

As the crypt door closed with a grating of stone and an echoing boom, the finality of it sank in. They turned away, with barely a nod to the Vicar as he hurried back into the comparative warmth of the church, and went to the carriage.

There seemed no use for words, and the snow which began to fall as they reached Hazelworth Hall confirmed it, blanketing the world in that oddly pure silence of white.

Once inside, and settled before the fire in the main parlour, Ariana began to feel warmer, at least a little more as if she lived, rather than as if she belonged with the frozen angels in the churchyard.

Benedict made certain that she was settled with Lady Hazelworth, sent for tea, and then left them there to go and speak with all of the staff, and to ascertain what might need to be done. For, although the formality of the reading of the Will still needed to happen, with Lord Hazelworth’s death, he was now master of Hazelworth Hall.

The tea arrived, and Ariana poured, handing a cup to her mother, who blinked, and accepted it, bringing her gaze back from where she had been staring into the fire, to meet her daughter’s eyes.

“You don’t have to be like me, daughter.”

The words were soft, yet shocking.

“What do you mean, Mother?”

“Obedient. You don’t have to just accept whatever your husband wants. When I was younger… I thought it the right thing to do, thought it better than what my mother did. Now… perhaps I was wrong, discipline can be good, but perhaps a softer connection… perhaps that can be good too. I have come to realise that not all softness is weakness. I might have liked to see what that was like…”

Ariana knelt before her mother, and wrapped her arms around the woman, who shivered as she sat, despite the roaring fire in the grate.

“You are not so old, Mother – many things might be possible now, and in the next few years…”

It seemed disloyal to say it, to imply that her father’s death had granted her mother a freedom long needed, but it was true.

Lady Hazelworth looked deep into Ariana’s eyes, and her voice dropped to a bare whisper.

“Perhaps… but I am not the one who matters. You are. I think that Darkmire is a far better man than your father realised. You have a chance – find that softer connection with the man you married – fight for a life of happiness, not just one of acceptance. To see you be happy with him… that will heal a great deal in my heart, Ariana.”

“Then if that is what you wish, I will try. In truth, I have already begun to try…”

***

Benedict found the estate management matters at Hazelworth Hall to be in good order – which was somewhat of a relief. He arranged a meeting with the gentleman who was now Lord Hazelworth, and his man of business, as well as the formal reading of the Will, so that all could be finalised as soon as possible. And so it was done, with little to debate, and a clear path for all.

After much discussion, Lady Hazelworth chose to remove herself to the Dower House, which stood close by on the Hazelworth Hall grounds. She declared that the opportunity to redecorate a house entirely to her own tastes was too good to pass up, and that it would allow her a new start in life ‘unburdened by memories’. Benedict wondered, as she said it, just which memories it was that she wished so strongly to forget – but he was too much of a gentleman to ask.

Over that hectic two weeks, his mind kept going back to his conversation with Ariana, by the riverside, when she had admitted her past love and her confused feelings. He ached for her, especially as her father’s death had come so hard on the heels of that discussion – perhaps, now that they were officially in mourning, and the very visible activities like the funeral were dealt with, they would have more chance to spend time with each other, to find a way to true happiness.

***

Although neither of them quite recognised it at the time, the conversation by the river marked an irrevocable shift in their relationship. During the few weeks after Lord Hazelworth’s death, they began spending more and more of their time together, hesitantly at first, then with more confidence as the days went by.

Ariana was baffled by the change in her feelings towards Benedict, confused by how different he seemed from the first few months of their marriage, and by how different she herself felt.

Telling him about David had been hard, but it had lightened the weight of guilt within her – a weight which had been further lifted by her mother’s quiet words in the parlour, after the funeral. Still, she was glad when the day of Helena’s visit arrived.

When she told Benedict that she was going to the Harbottle estate to see her friend, he gave her the strangest look, but did not ask further. She wondered exactly what that look had meant, even as the carriage took her on her way. The fields were dusted in snow, the trees stark and bare, yet she felt hopeful, nonetheless.

Miss Helena Everard was the kind of friend one might not see for years, and yet whom one might instantly feel at home with upon seeing again. When Ariana was admitted to the Harbottle residence Mr Harbottle was rather obsequious, and she suspected that he did not see her, but only the fact that a Duchess had come calling. Mrs Harbottle was more relaxed, and escorted her to a parlour where Helena sat, reading.

Over tea and cakes, Ariana related her growing attraction to her husband, despite the unpleasant manner in which their marriage had begun.

“I didn’t think it was possible when we were first married,” she said, “but I think we may be becoming friends.”