Knowledge Revealed

by D. S. Williams

  “You only did what you had to do, Ben. I knew where your heart lay,” Rowena assured him with a gentle caress of his arm.

  Ben continued his story. “Lucas entreated me to leave Maria's home and come with him and Ripley back to the United States when they sailed later in the year. Lucas and Ripley were already trying to give up the need for human blood and I was, I admit, utterly intrigued by their proposal of living on animal blood. It was something I could see myself trying to do. At that time, I had no thought of pursuing a relationship with Rowena – as much as I loved her, she'd made it very clear there were no options in that regard whilst Finchley controlled her life.”

  “Did you leave?” I asked, sipping my Coke.

  “Maria wouldn't allow it at first, she insisted she owned me. I found the situation intolerable and found it more and more difficult to perform my duties, as it were. I no longer found her even remotely attractive and I confess, I resorted to imagining myself with Rowena when I was called upon to service her bed.”

  The frustrating heat of a blush filled my cheeks again and I looked down at my hands until it passed.

  “Lucas is right, you do blush beautifully,” Rowena teased with a little laugh. “I think we should finish this story and spare Charlotte any more embarrassment.”

  “Of course,” Ben agreed with an amused smile. “Lucas departed after the first failed attempt to free me from Maria's grasp – he and Ripley continued their tour of England – I believe they went back to visit Ripley's former home and spent time checking on Ripley's distant relatives, ensuring they were safe and well. Whilst he could not visit them himself, Ripley wished to know his families descendants still thrived and when they were finished with that business, Lucas and Ripley returned to Maria's estate for a further week before their voyage to the States.”

  “Lucas had already made up his mind he would find a way to retrieve Ben from Maria's clutches and he came up with the perfect solution only a day or so after arriving at her estate,” Rowena continued.

  “I believe we will make her blush again,” Ben warned.

  “I don't believe Lucas intends to keep secrets from her, so we will only be bringing forth the blush before its time,” Rowena retorted quietly. “Within twenty four hours, Lucas had confirmed what he'd already suspected on his last visit – which was that the Countess was deeply attracted to him and who could blame her – he is a ridiculously handsome man, women flocked to him from the very first time I met him at York. Lucas used that information to his advantage and to gain Ben's freedom, he offered the Countess the two things she couldn't refuse.”

  A twinge of unease blossomed in my mind, but I couldn't stop myself from asking. “What two things?”

  “Money and sex,” Ben responded simply. Lucas offered to pay her back all the money she had spent on me and promised he would sleep with her for exactly one month.”

  “She agreed to that?” I choked back the jealousy that reared. Lucas had been alive for a very long time, and obviously, he had slept with many women.

  Rowena laughed, the tinkling sound loud in the quiet room. “Yes, she did. Of course, Maria believed she was such a femme fatale; she would have no trouble in seducing Lucas into staying. She was to be terribly disappointed when Lucas did exactly as he said he would. He remained in York for exactly one month and when the contract was up, he signed over a promissory note to her for the amount she'd paid for Ben's anthropological work and walked out.”

  I raised an eyebrow, but remained silent. It was obvious Lucas had done it to secure Ben's freedom and I couldn't begrudge the couple sitting opposite me for what Lucas had done to rescue them. There was still a question remaining however. “How did you and Ben get together, if you were still married to Finchley?”

  Rowena frowned deeply, clasping her fingers more tightly on Ben's arm. “My husband had already discovered my attraction to Ben – he had his steward spying on me and knew Ben and I were corresponding with one another. He grew viciously angry and threatened to have my family killed, if I didn't stop the correspondence at once.”

  My eyes narrowed with fury for what she'd suffered. “That's terrible.”

  “It was terrible,” Ben agreed in a quiet voice, lovingly rubbing his fingers across the back of Rowena's arm. “When Rowena stopped writing, I assumed the worst – she had decided to end the magnetic attraction between us. It happened around the time Lucas had affected my freedom and assuming she no longer wished to pursue our… affair, for want of a better term – I left England and sailed to the United States with Lucas and Ripley. We remained here for nearly three years, until I received a letter from Rowena, forwarded to me by a mutual acquaintance.”

  “I'd managed to smuggle the letter out with a servant who was sympathetic to my plight,” Rowena continued the story, wrapping her arm around Ben's. My situation had worsened in the three years since I'd lost touch with Ben, whilst my husband knew Ben had left the country, it didn't stop the insane jealousy consuming him at what he saw as my betrayal.”

  “But you'd never loved him,” I protested quietly.

  “No, but he loved me in his own perverse way,” Rowena explained, “and he would do anything in his power to keep me as his prisoner. He enjoyed playing mind games against me, shattering my self-esteem and treating me quite abysmally. Whilst we are immortal, we can be executed as you know and it was a threat he used on a constant basis during the last few years of our marriage. He refused me access to our servants and friends, threatening not only their lives, but also my own when he assured me he would happily execute me if I didn't do as he ordered. For most of those three years, I was locked in the tower at our estate with limited access to feeding and then he would taunt me, by having humans come to visit when my thirst was at its worst and take delight in seeing my desperation as I tried to act naturally and not attack them.”

  “That's barbaric!” I was outraged by the idea, having seen what happened to Lucas when the thirst for blood was strong.

  “When I received the letter, I was desperate to return to the United Kingdom, determined to travel to Scotland and retrieve Rowena, no matter the cost. Reading what she had been subjected to, knowing she had never intended to cut off our correspondence and had only done it under Finchley's threat of retaliation made my blood boil. Lucas, Ripley, and I departed immediately for Southampton, but of course, it took nearly two weeks to make the voyage, even on the fastest ship at the time. By the time we reached London, and then travelled to Scotland, I was nearly beside myself with worry. We arrived at Finchley's estate late in the evening and Lucas insisted we wait until morning to call upon Rowena and Finchley, to see if perhaps we could manipulate the situation without bloodshed.”

  “Lucas sent a calling card to Finchley that evening, requesting an audience and they arrived shortly after 10am the following day,” Rowena continued. “Through subtle investigations in the village, Lucas and Ripley had already discovered tales of Finchley's brutality to those around him, his cheating and swindling ways. Worse still, was the fact that Finchley and his cronies killed haphazardly in the local area, feeding without regard to secrecy, and neglecting to follow the rules the Council sets down.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “The Council has rules?”

  “Yes, of course. One of which is always keeping our nature secret. Lucas thought perhaps this would be a bargaining chip he could use with Finchley; by subtly suggesting he would report Finchley to the Council.” She shook her head tiredly at the memory. “Finchley was such an arrogant bastard, he didn't give a damn. He considered himself the lord of everything he presided over, untouchable. Having been forewarned of their visit, Finchley had surrounded himself with his henchmen and intended on executing all three of them, but he didn't allow for Lucas and Ben's exceptional fighting skills and when it came down to it, there was a battle. Even Ripley, who is not our strongest combatant, was prepared to fight when it was needed.”

  “Lucas was magnificent, I'd seen his fighting skills a few times during
our three years together, but he is truly a brilliant strategist and immensely strong. He battled hand to hand until Finchley was the last man standing and then we executed him.” Ben stated the facts with no trace of emotion, no horror at what they'd done and an apprehensive shiver worked its way through my body. When all was said and done, despite how polite and pleasant they were, these people lived in a different world to the one I'd lived in until recently.

  “Ben and I have been together ever since and we have always been grateful to Lucas for what he did that day. Not only in freeing me from Finchley, but he ensured the local people were properly taken care of after Finchley's execution and cleaned up all the loose ends which would have led to our attracting attention from the authorities. We sailed back to the United States just a few weeks later and Ben and I married shortly after our arrival here.” Rowena gazed at her husband with undisguised emotion. “I've been gloriously happy ever since.” With a lingering kiss against Ben's lips, Rowena stood up gracefully. “If you'll excuse me, it's high time I was leaving. I'm going into Billings with the girls to pick up Marianne's wedding gown.” She leaned over and gave me a brief hug before setting off and I lay back against the pillows, marveling at the love they shared for one another and the respect they showed for Lucas. He'd obviously been their hero, long before he became mine and I couldn't stop the pride that swelled in my chest.

  “Charlotte, your head seems remarkably quiet since you've returned,” Ripley announced when he and Striker walked into the living room a few minutes later. Striker was dressed casually in black jeans and a knitted grey sweater, Ripley wore dress trousers and a silk shirt of pale blue. Ripley lowered himself into one of the deep armchairs and Striker took up a position on the couch next to Ben.

  “I think most of them are sulking,” I admitted, deciding to ignore the flash of annoyance that struck over Ripley being in my head in the first place. “I got irritated with them telling me I'd made a mistake by leaving and badgering me to come back.”

  “They were right,” Striker announced with a smirk. “How'd you make them shut up?”

  “Lost my temper. The final straw was when they started turning up, frightened me to death. They popped up constantly for the first three days.”

  Ben sat bolt upright, his attention captured. “What do you mean, exactly, when you say they popped up?”

  I shrugged casually, uncertain as to why he found this news so interesting. “They aren't only in my head now. I can see them.”

  Ben and Ripley exchanged a meaningful glance. “Corporeal visions?” Ripley said.

  Ben nodded thoughtfully. “It sounds very much like it.” He turned his attention back to me, curiosity rampant in his clear brown eyes. “You actually see them? As though they were in the room with you?”

  “As easily as I can see you.” The first time it happened was the day after I'd left Lucas's house. Alone in the cottage and utterly miserable, I'd been making coffee, my thoughts distant and scrambled. When I turned around from the bench, Marianne's grandmother had been standing right before me. The experience frightened me beyond belief and I'd screwed my eyes tightly shut, convinced I was hallucinating. When I gingerly opened them again, she'd disappeared.

  I'd curled up on the armchair, deeply shaken and trying to convince myself, it was only a delusion. The voices were still inside my head, clamoring for attention and giving me a tremendous headache. I thought the appearance of Marianne's grandmother had been the result of stress. At least that's what I'd told myself – until it happened a second time.

  Lying on my cot that night, I had my eyes closed and was trying to force myself to relax into sleep. Hearing a shuffling noise in the room, I'd opened my eyes and found myself face to face with Lucas's fiancée, Charlotte. She was leaning over me, showing no signs of malice, but talking to me as if she was truly there. Again I squeezed my eyes shut, willing her to go away. I didn't understand what was happening, but I was convinced I was losing my mind.

  Over the following twenty-four hours, I'd had numerous visits from spirits I'd conversed with mentally. The only difference being, now they were actually in the room with me, as if they'd returned to life. Every time, I'd screamed at them to go away and leave me alone. Eventually, they did. I explained all this to Ben and he seemed as fascinated by this turn of events as I was confused.

  “What does it mean?” I finally asked when the silence had extended for more than five minutes and I'd grown tired of the pointed looks being exchanged between Ben and Ripley. “Why aren't you saying anything?”

  Ben sighed. “I'm sorry, Charlotte. I was so overwhelmed by what you'd said; I spoke to Ripley with telepathy. My apologies for the rudeness,” he glanced across at Striker. “You too, Striker.”

  Striker shrugged nonchalantly. “Figured you'd get around to filling us in sooner or later.”

  “I forget how little you know about us, Charlotte. Ripley, Rowena, William, and I have the gift of telepathy; we can speak to one another over short distances. William is a much younger vampire, but already he has developed the same skill. His capacity isn't as perfected as ours, he can only project his thoughts over a few feet at most, but he will no doubt be a powerful telepath in the future.”

  I nodded thoughtfully. “I saw him and Rowena talk to one another telepathically yesterday.”

  “We don't tend to use it a lot; we consider it rude to use the skill when some of us don't have the ability to hear the conversation. But in some circumstances, it can be a remarkable ability, particularly if there are dangers present. Not only can we speak back and forth telepathically to each other, we can project messages to those of us who are non-telepaths.” He took a deep breath, his gaze assessing me carefully. “As to what this all means, I would suggest your psychic powers are quite remarkable and progressing rapidly. You haven't had any further corporeal visits since Wednesday?”

  “No.” I didn't know why this was so interesting; to me they'd been nothing more than a frightening nuisance.

  “What about the voices? You aren't hearing them either?” Ripley questioned. He and Ben shared another glance.

  I reached towards the coffee table for the water Lucas had left there, and Striker immediately got to his feet, reaching for the glass and passing it to me. With a smile of thanks, I took a sip then shook my head. “I've kind of got them boxed up,” I admitted bashfully.

  Striker raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Boxed up?”

  “I was feeling stressed. Leaving here and not knowing what the future held, I couldn't cope with visits from a bunch of dead people. I discovered if I concentrated hard enough, I could force them into a kind of… box in my head. Once I got them in there, I finally got some peace.”

  Ben and Ripley exchanged another deep look and I sipped my water, wondering what they made of this turn of events.

  “It may be some sort of shielding ability,” Ripley suggested.

  Ben nodded thoughtfully. “It's possible, but to control it so quickly, progress so swiftly. It's extraordinary, particularly considering she's human.” He turned his gaze back to me. “They haven't appeared since you,” he paused and a tiny smile played on his lips, “put them in the box?”

  “No,” I agreed, returning his smile.

  Ripley sat forward in the armchair, his elbows resting on his knees. “Charlotte, would you try something for us? See if you can get one of them out of the box?”

  I closed my eyes obediently, envisioning the box in my head and opened the lid. Nothing happened. I concentrated harder, silently calling to them and requesting they visit with me. When I opened my eyes, Ripley's mother was standing in the living room, directly behind Ripley's chair.

  “Your mother is here, Ripley,” I announced quietly.

  “That is some seriously freaky stuff, Lott,” Striker said in a low voice.

  Ben's eyes followed my line of vision, searching for what I was seeing. “Is she completely clear to you, Charlotte? Or opaque?”

  “Completely clear.” As I watch
ed, Lady Caroline Wadworth glanced around the room in fascination, her eyes grazing across everything in the room.

  “Can you speak with her?” Ripley asked quietly.

  I spoke, despite feeling an utter fool for talking to someone only I could see. “Hello, Lady Wadworth.”

  “Good afternoon, Charlotte.” She spoke with a crisp English accent, her words clipped. “Is this the world in which you live?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that— that's my Ripley?”

  “Yes, that's Ripley.” Despite my hands shaking, I smiled weakly at the delight in her pale grey eyes. She stepped elegantly around the armchair, kneeling in front of her only son. Ripley had been concentrating on my face but now he glanced down at the spot where his mother crouched, following my line of sight.

  “Is she really there?” Ripley asked softly. His eyes were round with amazement and I realized he was hearing the conversation from his mother's point of view, by way of his head and mine.

  “Yes,” I replied. “She's kneeling beside your left knee.”

  “He is such a handsome man, I'm so proud of him.” Lady Wadworth glanced around at Ben and Striker. “These are his friends?”

  “Yes, Lady Wadworth. This is Ben Becket and Striker.”

  “Could you describe her, Charlotte?” Ben asked.

  “She's perhaps five feet tall, with pale grey eyes and golden brown hair, which she's wearing in an elaborate curled hairstyle, piled high on top of her head. She has a long gown in dark green velvet, it's tightly pinched at the waist and there are little cuffs on the sleeves and she's wearing one of those… frills around her neck.”

  “A cartwheel ruff,” Ripley supplied.

  “She's wearing a necklace, which looks like a— flower; I think it's perhaps a rose? It's made up of rubies and emeralds, I think.”

  “Mother wore a necklace like that,” Ripley agreed. “She wore it always; my father gave it to her.”

  “I'm pleased you let me speak with you, Charlotte. You look much improved now you've come back to these people.”