Chapter 19 #2
“What would you say if I told you I do not believe in the curse?” Catherine asked, voice trembling as she mustered all her courage.
An identical look passed between all three: Nora, Benjamin, and Stafford. It was a knowing look, heavy with apprehension and cunning.
They all know! Even Stafford knew? Even Aaron knew. Is this a conspiracy that encompasses all?
The weakness that gnawed at her body spread tendrils of doubt and paranoia into her mind. Aaron silently took her hand where it rested upon the table. She tried to draw away, but he resisted, holding her firmly. Then his eyes found hers. She searched them for reassurance.
Tell me that you are not part of this? Tell me you are Aaron Tarnley and that you remember our golden years of childhood together… But you cannot.
She succeeded in extricating her hand. Aaron’s face hardened. His hand withdrew, and his eyes became ice.
“You gave me poppy juice,” Catherine said bluntly. “You made me weak. I don’t know why.”
“You made her dependent upon it,” Aaron fixed onto the end.
Uncle Benjamin took his wife’s hand from across the table. “Say that in public and I will gladly lay suit against you for slander, Your Grace.”
“And I would stand as a witness, Benjamin,” Stafford piped up with all the somberness he could muster.
Aaron smiled with the venom of dishonor. A new expression, one she had never experienced—but one that startled her all the same. “You think I would fight my battles in court over my wife’s well-being?”
Nora gave a harsh laugh, her facade slipping.
“This is nothing but wild fancy. The girl raves.”
Stafford leaned forward, his tone smooth as oil.
“Miss Ainsley, your misfortune is grievous. Yet your guardians have only sought to protect you. The illness, contagion perhaps, must be treated. I have secured a place for you in a most reputable sanatorium. For your safety and the safety of others. I am prepared to recompense handsomely, Your Grace,” he turned to Aaron, “if you will release her claim and allow us to see to her care.”
Aaron’s face blackened with vengeance.
“You speak as though she were a parcel to be traded. She is my wife. And I will not sell her. Nor abandon her.”
Nora sniffed, raising her chin and thinning her lips until they were white.
“Then you will regret it. Catherine carries a taint that no man can bear.”
Stafford’s smile chilled Catherine.
“Be careful, Your Grace. There are ways a name may be brought low. One may see it in print, perhaps.”
“One may see it in an obituary, too, perhaps.” Aaron’s voice was steel.
“There is no need for aggression, or talk of… gossip,” Benjamin smiled, spreading his hands.
Catherine noticed that two of the large rings he had worn for as long as she’d known him were missing. They had borne precious stones and been fashioned of solid gold. A minor detail, but it struck in her mind.
“The offer has been made, Your Grace. If you are still able to… it might be in your interests to withdraw from your present arrangement and allow us to once again bear the… risk, of Miss Ainsley.”
“Did you find a way to poison my parents?” Catherine blurted, staring at her Aunt.
The woman’s reaction was one of shock, as would be expected.
But it was not the shock of being accused of something patently ridiculous.
It was the shock of being discovered in an act that had been considered utterly secret.
Catherine’s heart stopped as she saw it.
Looking to her Uncle, she saw the glance that went between them. Stafford simply smiled, unaware.
“Swear it before God,” Catherine pressed emphatically.
Benjamin licked his lips. Nora scoffed.
“I will do no such thing. Such an inventive mind you have always had, Catherine. I wish it could be turned away from such wicked thoughts.”
But Catherine knew.
She rose—barely. Her legs buckled, and she caught herself against the edge of the table. Aaron stood in a flash, steadying her with an arm around her waist. She leaned into him, the warmth of him anchoring her when the world tilted.
“We will take our leave,” Aaron said, voice calm as cut steel. “Before I repay cruelty with something less civilized.”
They left, her aunt and uncle’s scandalized muttering following them across the foyer.
The carriage rattled away from the manor. Catherine stared out at the hedgerows flashing past, heart pounding.
“You see it now,” Aaron sighed, “the truth of the poppy. They sought to keep you weak. I am yet to pinpoint why exactly.”
“Yes,” Catherine whispered, “I… I believe you. But I will not take it from you. I will not be beholden to it ever again. I will free myself.”
He looked at her then, truly looked, as though weighing her soul.
“There is only one way, and it is kill or cure.”
She nodded. “I suspected as much. I will endure the sickness until it passes. I will not die of it.”
“It will be agony.”
“I would rather suffer for a time than be a slave all my life.”
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he nodded once. Sharply.
“So be it.”
Exhaustion weighed heavily on Catherine. Her dress felt as though it were fashioned of lead. Her hair dragged her head steeply. Aaron’s shoulder seemed an inviting pillow. His arm went around her, and his lips softly dashed the top of her head.
“Thank you for helping me,” she shivered.
“You are my wife.”
“In name only,” she reminded him.
“Then consider this to be me keeping up appearances,” he replied, drily.
“I shall,” she mumbled. “I don’t want to go back to Caerleon while I feel like this. I don’t want the staff to see me so weakened.”
“Illness is nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Please... I would like to be alone somewhere to endure this in silence.”
“Impossible,” he shot down at once. “I would not leave you in your hour of need.”
“Aaron would say that…” She smiled weakly.
There came no reply. No question of her choice of words. A silence stretched for several minutes.
“I own a lodge beyond Windsor,” he spoke at last. “It is isolated in several acres of woodland. You will be utterly alone there… You ask much of me.”
“I ask only for freedom.”