Chapter 165: A Mother’s Mistake

Caroline was shoved into the cell without warning. She stumbled forward and her hands flew out to hold the damp wall that seemed to swallow light. The lantern outside lit only half the cell and there were no windows. She felt as if she had already stepped one foot into the coffin.

The cell door creaked behind her before it locked. She quickly turned and ran to the front, gripping the iron bars in panic. The officer then spoke,

“There are witnesses who said that you often got into fights with young women. Like Miss Clifford, Miss Mina Hyde, Miss Imogen McKenna and Miss Rosalind Ellis. Did you ever tell them that you were going to bury them?”

Caroline turned pale. She shook her head in desperation, wiping her tear-streaked face.

“No, no! Those were only passing remarks. Everybody gets angry and says things—Y-You must do it too—” Caroline blurted, realising how guilty she sounded, “No, what I meant—”

“You were angry and you got rid of them,” the officer interrupted her. “With no one at home, it was easier for you to move. You did leave your house too often.”

“No—” Caroline’s hands shook. Her wedding ring caught the dying lantern light. She exclaimed, “Ask the servants! The ones who work in my house!” They would vouch for her. They would tell these officers that she’d been home.

“You dismissed them yourself several weeks ago,” the minister sighed.

When the officer turned, Caroline panicked. She asked, “W-Wait, where are you going?” but the footsteps faded. “No… don’t leave me here! I didn’t do it—!”

“SHUT UP!”

The voice exploded from somewhere down the corridor which belonged to a male. He muttered, “Or do you want me to rip your gut out when you are sleeping?”

Caroline bit her lower lip but she didn’t make a sound. What had she done to be punished like this? Were they going to behead her tomorrow?

Far away from the dungeon, Mr. and Mrs. Belmont walked through the corridors with desperation, while Ezekiel had gone to find help through Mr. Helsing. Mrs. Belmont now held the front of her skirt tightly. The rim of her eyes had turned red and swollen by the time she caught sight of a minister’s robes. She quickly ran to the person, calling,

“Sire!” Coming before the person, she pleaded, “Our daughter—Caroline—she has been arrested. Please help her get out!”

Mr. Belmont, who caught up, introduced himself when the minister stared at them, “I am Harold Belmont and this is my wife Megan Belmont. We need to visit our daughter.”

The minister’s eyes flickered with recognition and he asked, “Belmont, you say?” His eyebrows rose. “Are you related to Ruelle Belmont?”

Mrs. Belmont’s tears stopped, not knowing why this person was bringing up Ruelle’s name, while Mr. Belmont wondered if word had spread about the treaty. So he quickly nodded, “Yes, she is our elder daughter.”

“Is that so?” The person was none other than Minister Griswold, whose tone shifted to something thoughtful.

This was the same Ruelle Belmont who had gotten him beaten. The young woman had caused a lot of inconveniences. Mr. Beckett had been breathing down his neck since this weekend, trying to arrange a marriage with his gap-toothed daughter as compensation for that night’s incident.

The minister’s lips twisted and he asked, “What about you two? She must have taken your help, because small crimes don’t land a person in the courthouse’s dungeon.”

“We didn’t have anything to do with it!” Mr. Belmont spoke in frustration.

“Hard to say with that look on your face,” Minister Griswold huffed before he murmured, “You look like someone who has murdered people before. We should have you two interrogated. Guards.”

“W—What?” Mrs. Belmont’s voice cracked like thin ice under her foot.

Mr. Belmont’s hand grabbed around his wife’s arm before the guards would appear. He muttered, “Come, Megan. Let us go wait at the house for Ezekiel,” and he pulled her away from the minister. “We can return later.”

Minister Griswold watched them retreat down the corridor. Then after a minute, he made his way towards the dungeon.

He climbed down the stairs, walking past the weak burning lanterns before he came to stand before the cell with the latest addition.

Caroline, who heard footsteps approaching her cell, quickly came to stand in the front, while rubbing her nose with the back of her sleeve. She caught sight of a man who had grey hair.

“Belmont. Your family must love you a lot.”

He stepped closer to the bars, where she could see his face and he smiled at her.

“I’m personally going to oversee your execution. Make sure the person takes his time with it by asking the axe to go slow and careful, so that you feel the metal nick your skin before the weight drops. Or perhaps hanging would suit you better?”

His eyes travelled down her body and he murmured, “What a shame.” He then turned and walked away without bothering to spend another second there.

“These dungeons are famous for holding men, women… they don’t discriminate,” came the voice of a woman from the opposite cell. “I’ve seen children down here. Eight, nine years old. Their crime? Being born as humans.”

Caroline then heard the movement of a chain which dragged forward and a woman in her thirties stepped to the front. Her face was gaunt, but her eyes were alive.

“Don’t be sad. You only need to be ready to brace for death. Marjorie Hill,” the woman offered her name.

“…Caroline,” her voice was hoarse from crying. Cautiously, she asked, “What did you do… to end up here?”

“They killed my lover. Drained him dry in front of me. For sport. So I tried to return the favour.” Marjorie’s voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “Vampires can be wretched creatures, can’t they?”

Caroline’s response was defensive as she quickly said, “My husband isn’t like that. He’s a halfling.”

“Mm, halflings.” Marjorie hummed. “They’re different but they end up the same, dear. Where is your husband?”

“He’s looking for help. I am sure of it…” Caroline murmured with her eyebrows knitted.

The older woman who was watching Caroline noticed the glimmer of doubt pass through her features and inwardly smiled. The young woman looked like she could be of use, especially with her connection to the Belmont name. Was she the one meant to be handed over in that treaty?

Far away from the courthouse, Mr. and Mrs. Belmont returned back to the Henleys’ residence, which stood exactly the same as they had left it this morning. Climbing up the stairs, they knocked on the door.

After a moment, the door opened.

Seeing a new servant there, who didn’t move, Mr. Belmont demanded, “What? Move aside.”

But the servant didn’t make an effort to follow his words. He asked politely, “May I know who you are looking for and who you are?”

Mr. Belmont’s face turned red in anger. His fingers twitched toward where his cane would have been, now only finding empty air. He spat, “This is my son-in-law’s residence. The Henleys. I am not in the mood so move now.”

“Pardon me,” the servant apologised with a frown, before continuing, “But this house now belongs to Mr. Dashwood. The house was bought a week ago. The previous owner said it would be ready today and we moved this morning.” The servant looked at the couple before he stepped back and closed the door.

“H—He sold the house…” Mrs Belmont whispered before her knees gave away and she fell on the stairs.

“Megan!” Mr. Belmont dropped beside her. “Ezekiel must have tried to use the money to help Caroline get out of the bid—”

“This is all my fault…” Mrs. Belmont murmured, her hands clutching the cold stone. “I shouldn’t have done it.”

“It wasn’t your fault. If that wretched girl didn’t exist—!”

Mrs. Belmont clutched her head. Ezekiel had decided to leave their daughter… with Caroline in the dungeon, there would be no saving. She had given her precious daughter to him…

“No. He won’t return… Ezekiel won’t help, Harold,” Mrs. Belmont supported her head with her hand. “I did this to Caroline…”

The Belmonts sat on the stairs with nowhere to go.

On the other hand, Lucian’s carriage arrived at the Slaters’ mansion and came to a halt at the courtyard. The coachman stepped down and opened the carriage door for Lucian and Ruelle.

“Thank you, Claude,” Ruelle murmured and the coachman offered her a bow. She caught the bracelet on his wrist and smiled.

She had never imagined living in such a big place, as in the past she had been busy trying to make ends meet. And to think this would be her home, her eyes turned to meet Lucian.

“Will Lord Azriel be okay?” Ruelle asked, slightly hesitant because pureblooded vampires especially didn’t like mixing themselves with humans.

Since they first met, Lucian had held contempt towards humans and Ruelle knew she was an exception to that rule. But what about the Lord? He had lost his wife to humans.

“But then again he didn’t kick me out of the mansion when you weren’t here,” Ruelle murmured. But a guest was different compared to… to being his son’s beloved.

“You’re not here by circumstance, Ruelle. You’ve simply taken longer than expected to return,” Lucian remarked, his hand brushing the back of her fingers before slipping between them, closing around hers as though it had never belonged anywhere else.

He then continued, “What if I told you that you and I were promised to each other… before you could understand what it meant?”

Ruelle’s heart skipped a beat at the idea of it. She replied softly, “Then it would seem fated…”

“You can call it that,” Lucian hummed, his gaze resting on her a moment longer.

Her memories were yet to return beyond that fleeting spark. In the beginning, it had upset him but it no longer mattered. He would have her regardless. And this time, he would not allow her to forget.

Ruelle smiled at his response. She wondered what would have happened if their market meet were the last. If it wasn’t her, but Caroline who was sent in her place to Sexton. She doubted she would ever be able to meet someone like Lucian on the street a second time.

She then saw Lucian turn to look at the entrance of the mansion, where Maude stepped out and bowed deeply. Her black dress stood out starkly against the hardened snow ground.

“Master Lucian. Miss Ruelle,” she wore her usual stoic expression that barely moved and informed, “Both of you have been summoned to the lord’s study.”

Lucian’s nod was minimal, a bare acknowledgement before his hand found the small of Ruelle’s back, guiding her forward into whatever waited beyond those doors.

Their coats and her scarf were taken by the servant before they continued to walk. The news must have reached Lord Azriel, Ruelle thought to herself. She was nervous, and she took careful breaths as she walked.

When they arrived outside the study, Maude knocked on the door once, before pushing the doors open.

Ruelle followed Lucian inside and noticed a woman with glasses standing at the side. She didn’t look like she worked in the mansion, as she hadn’t last seen the woman here before. Then her eyes found Lord Azriel immediately. He sat on the couch with a composed expression.

There was another man, who sat on another couch, who appeared to be in his seventies. The man wore robes similar to the ministers from the Winter Ball. He was lean and his eyes shrewd.

Ruelle felt his eyes fall on her before his gaze returned to Lucian.

“Good afternoon, Lucian… Miss Belmont,” the older man greeted, his tone even. “I believe it is time we revisited the treaty properly so that every word of it is followed. After all… when you came to me, you were quite insistent it be signed that very morning.”

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