Dancing at Midnight

"I'm not going to wait for you, you know," Belle cried out. "And someday you'll change your mind and you'll want me. You'll want me so badly you'll ache from it. And not just in your bed. You'll want me in your home and in your heart and in your soul. And I'll be gone."

"I don't doubt it for an instant." John wasn't sure whether he'd spoken the words or merely thought them, but either way it was clear she hadn't heard him.

"Goodbye, John," Belle said, her voice choked with sobs. "I know that you're friends with Alex and Emma, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't come round Westonbirt until after I've left." Her vision clouded by tears, she whipped her mare around and took off for Westonbirt at breakneck speed.

John watched her depart, then listened to the sound of her horse's galloping hooves after he could no longer see her. He stood still for several minutes, his mind refusing to digest all that had taken place. After years of shame and self-loathing, he had finally done the right thing, the honorable thing, but he felt like the villain in one of Mrs. Rad-cliffe's novels.

John groaned out loud and then viciously swore as he kicked a rock out of his way. It had been like this his entire life. Just when he thought he had achieved something he wanted, some greater prize was dangled before him-something he knew he could never have. Bletchford Manor had been a dream to him, a dream of respectability and position and honor, a way of showing his family that he could make it on his own, that he didn't need to inherit a title and an estate to become a gentleman. But in coming to Bletchford Manor he'd met Belle, and it was almost as if the gods were laughing at him, calling out, "See, you'll never really make it, John. This is what you'll never have."

He squeezed his eyes shut. He had done the right thing, hadn't he?

He knew he'd hurt her. The pain in her eyes had been naked and raw. He could still see her face in his mind. And then Belle was joined by Ana, her eyes silently condemning him. "Noooo," she moaned. "Noooo." And then the voice of her mother-

"It might as well have been you."

John wrenched his eyes open, trying to banish the women from his mind. He had done the right thing. He could never be the pure soul Belle deserved. A scene from his dream flashed in his mind. He was on top of her. She was screaming.

He had done the right thing. His desire for her was too intense. She would have broken under the force of his passion.

A dull, hollow ache formed in his chest, squeezing at his lungs. In one fluid motion, he mounted his stallion and took off at a speed even faster than Belle's. As he crashed through the forest, the leaves whipped viciously at his face, but John ignored them, accepting the pain as penance due.

Chapter 9

Belle had no memory of her breakneck gallop home. She rode without care to her own safety; all that seemed to matter was getting back to Westonbirt and putting as much distance between herself and John Blackwood as possible.

But once she arrived home and raced up the stairs she realized that Westonbirt was not far enough. How could she bear to remain with her cousins when the man who had broken her heart was only a short ride away?

She stormed into her room, pulling off her cloak with a vicious tug, and proceeded to grab three valises from her dressing room. Furiously she began to stuff dresses into them.

"My lady, my lady, what are you doing?"

Belle looked up. Her lady's maid was standing in the doorway, a horrified expression on her face. "I'm packing," she snapped. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

Mary rushed in and tried to grab the valise away. "But my lady, you don't know how to pack."

Belle felt hot tears pricking her eyes. "How difficult can it be?!" she burst out.

"You need trunks for those gowns, my lady, or you'll crush them."

Belle dropped her bags, feeling suddenly deflated. "Fine. Yes. Of course. You're right."

"My lady?"

Belle swallowed, trying to keep her emotions inside, if only until she could get to another room. "Just pack everything as you see fit. I'll leave just as soon as the duke and duchess return." With that, she rushed from the room, running down the hallway until she reached Emma's office, where she sequestered herself, sobbing furiously for the rest of the day.

***
Emma and Alex didn't return for a week. Belle didn't know what she did during that time to keep herself occupied. Mostly she just stared out the window.

When Emma arrived, she was naturally perplexed at the sight of Belle's bags, packed and neatly stacked in a small storage room off the main hallway. She immediately sought her cousin out.

"Belle, what is the meaning of all this? And why are you wearing my dress?"

Belle looked down at the violet frock she was wearing. "I packed all of mine."

"Exactly. Why?"

"I can't stay here."

"Belle, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I have to go to London. Tomorrow."

"What? Tomorrow? Does this have something to do with Lord Blackwood?"

Belle's immediate aversion of her head was all Emma needed to know that she was correct. "What happened?"

Belle swallowed nervously. "He humiliated me."

"Oh, my Lord, Belle. He didn't…"

"No. But I wish I had. Then he'd have to marry me, and I-" She broke off with a sob.

"Belle, you don't know what you're saying."

"I know exactly what I'm saying! Why is it that no one can credit me with the ability to know my own mind?"

Emma's eyes widened at her cousin's loss of composure. "Perhaps you should tell me what conspired during my absence."