Chapter 9 Good Time

'Why is my heart beating so fast?' Rohan asked himself. He felt his chest, his heart thumping wildly as the hooves became clearer.  As the sound of approaching hooves reached its crescendo, Rohan couldn't resist the urge to peek out from behind the tablecloth. 

The grand hall of the castle was bathed in soft candlelight, and the air was filled with the chatter of Lady Agatha's friends, who gathered in mirth and conversation.

It seems the viscount hasn't arrived yet.

Lady Agatha had herself reclined on a plush cushioned seat, her demeanor relaxed and carefree. It was an evening of leisure, an evening that was meant to be her own.

As the guests laughed and chatted, the grand doors of the hall swung open, revealing the imposing figure of Viscount Aldric. He entered the room with the grace and composure that had become his hallmark, his eyes scanning the scene before him.

Lady Agatha, upon seeing her husband's arrival, was taken aback for a moment. It seemed she had genuinely forgotten his return date in the midst of her gathering. Her surprise, however, quickly gave way to irritation.

In a voice that was deceptively calm, Viscount Aldric approached his wife, a forced smile playing on his lips. "Agatha," he began, "I see you've arranged a gathering with your friends. I hope you've been well in my absence."

But Lady Agatha, embarrassed by what he had made her look like in front of her aristocratic friends, lashed out impulsively. "You shouldn't have come!" she snapped, her words cutting through the jovial atmosphere of the room. Her friends looked on in shock, their laughter replaced by uneasy silence.

Aldric, maintaining his composure, replied in a measured tone. "I understand you may have made plans, my dear. But I had not forgotten my return date, and I wished to see you upon my arrival."

Agatha's friends began to snicker behind their fans.

Lady Agatha's temper flared, and her response was far from gentle. With a sudden and impulsive movement, she grabbed a goblet of wine from the table beside her and, with a fiery anger, splashed it onto Aldric's garments.

The room fell into a stunned hush as the wine dripped from Aldric's attire, staining the fabric with deep crimson. The contrast between his calm demeanor and her impulsive rage was stark, and the servants and guests alike watched with bated breath.

Aldric, his expression unchanged, met Lady Agatha's fiery gaze. It was a confrontation unveiled, a moment of reckoning that had been a long time coming. In the face of her anger and impulsiveness, he remained a pillar of calm, a testament to the honor and dignity he carried as Viscount.

The castle's grand hall had witnessed a clash of emotions and wills, and the echoes of this fateful evening would resonate far beyond its walls.

As Rohan prepared to crawl out from the table he suddenly heard the pitter patter of familiar, ghostly footsteps pass by him. It was his mother.

Anne's heart was heavy with the weight of her own thoughts and fears, and she couldn't help but cast a glance toward the commotion that had unfolded.

As her eyes settled upon the figure standing in the hall, a figure she had long feared she would never see again, her voice trembled with a mixture of disbelief and hope. "Aldric...?" she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath carried away by the wind.

Tears welled up in Anne's eyes, blurring her vision as emotions surged within her. She had braced herself for the news of Aldric's death on the battlefield, preparing for the worst.

In that moment, everything else around Anne seemed to fade into obscurity. The grandeur of the castle, the turmoil of Lady Agatha's gathering, and the secrets that had haunted her were all eclipsed by the sight of Aldric.

As the tension in the grand entrance hall escalated, Lady Agatha's temper flared to a dangerous intensity at the sight of Anne. The unexpected appearance of the woman she perceived as a threat had ignited a fiery rage within her. With an impulsive and vindictive move, she seized Anne's hair and dragged her forward, determined to expose Aldric's supposed philandering to everyone in the room.

Anne, taken by surprise and in a vulnerable position, gasped in pain as Lady Agatha's grip tightened. Her eyes pleaded for mercy, but the crowd looked on in shock and uncertainty, unsure of how to intervene.

Rohan was in momentary shock. Then, that shock began to fade and in came the waves of rage as he saw his poor mother being dragged by the hair. He calmed down immediately when he saw Eliza's expression. Of course, he had to be aware that even though this was not part of his plan, he had to make use of it.

Aldric, his calm demeanor slowly giving way to a growing sense of anger, watched the scene unfold with a furrowed brow. His gaze met Anne's, and he couldn't bear to see her in such distress.

Lady Agatha, her posture haughty and her voice dripping with malice, stood up to Aldric, determined to humiliate him. But the viscount's patience had its limits, and his voice, stern and resolute, cut through the chaos of the hall.

"Enough, Agatha," he commanded, his eyes flashing with authority. "Release her."

The guests, once reveling in the atmosphere of the gathering, now watched with bated breath as the power struggle unfolded.

With a reluctant and venomous glare, Lady Agatha finally released her hold on Anne's hair. The tension in the room remained palpable as Aldric continued, his voice unwavering, "Leave this place and let Anne go."

"You pick your whore over me!?" Agatha shrieked.

"She," Aldric's shadow was now cast over Agatha as he sized her up. He was taught never to hit women and children but Agatha's visage was becoming a venomous snake in his presence, she was no longer human, "Anne is not a whore."

Aldric grabbed Agatha's wrist firmly and she let go off Anne.

Agatha could feel her legs become liquid as she saw this man, who she thought was wrapped around her finger, gave her primal eyes like that of a beast's.

"Mother!" Eliza bolted up from her position and ran up to Anne, hugging her and weeping.

"Mother...?" Aldric's attention was now on the golden-haired child.

Rohan's plans did not go as expected but he thought it was better to take advantage of the situation. With the tension building up into a cold stillness, Rohan stood and planted each step with dignity as he approached the man he would call...

"Father," Rohan's and Aldric's eyes met.

They were like a striking image of each other. Nobody could deny that red hair and equally fiery eyes.