Thank you all so very much for your lovely feedback! I'd also like to thank my wonderful beta Geminied. The girl is a true gem :-) I hope you will enjoy the next chapter. It's a bit dark, but there's no light without darkness, right?

Chapter 10

Have you ever heard of the hour of the wolf? ~ J. Michael Straczynski

Cavenham Park, the next morning

When Isobel came downstairs after breakfast, the butler told her that she had an early visitor waiting for her. Instant fear that Edward Channing was in her house overwhelmed her and so her question was hushed, "Who is it?"

"It's Doctor Clarkson, Your Ladyship. I wanted to inform you earlier, but he said he'd wait until you're downstairs. He's waiting in the library."

"Thank you." Isobel nodded, but the small wave of relief faded quickly, when she thought about the possible reason for the doctor's visit. Their last conversation had ended ugly and she was certain, he hadn't come to apologize. Bracing herself for a difficult conversation she straightened her back and entered the library.

"Dr Clarkson!" she greeted him as politely as possible. He was standing by the window, watching a couple of birds chasing one another. He turned around when he heard her voice.

"Good morning, Lady Merton," he said stiffly.

"What brings you here?" she asked.

"I think you know why I'm here," he said and reached inside his jacket. He put the envelope on a small table by the window. "It's yours."

"There was no need to bring it," she said. "I would have come to the hospital today anyway."

He raised his eyebrows. "I see. Well, I hope you'll find a solution for the problem with your old...," he broke off, trying to find a word that wouldn't be offensive. "Friend."

"I will," she said, her voice sounding more convinced than she actually was.

"At least I've seen your new home now." His eyes wandered up to the beautiful stuccowork at the ceiling and the richly filled shelves that covered the walls. "Quite a trade to Crawley House...," he remarked, a sour trace colouring his voice. "A big mansion, a butler, several footmen, and without a doubt a lady's maid. All the things you've always condemned as useless are now yours."

Tired of his bitterness and resentment, she asked. "What do you want, Dr Clarkson?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I guess I came here to ask you how things will go on."

"I wanted to write you and the other members of the board, but since you're already here, I can tell you in person. I've decided to lay down my position at the hospital."

He drew a sharp breath. "So, he's finally got you where he wanted you."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Lord Merton, your loving husband, has finally convinced you to give up everything that was important to you once. I never thought an insignificant man like him could hold such power over you!"

Isobel felt how her face became white. Cold anger rose within her and coloured her voice when she spoke again, "Not that it concerns you, but he asked me not to step down. It was my decision and if I ever had any doubts, you've just erased them completely."

"If that's what you need to tell yourself when you look into the mirror."

"I won't apologize for loving my husband."

"As if you've ever apologized for anything," he scoffed. "I've loved you, you know."

Isobel swallowed, "I'm sorry, but I can't give you what you want. I never could."

"I think you've made that clear more than once... Anyway, I guess that's it. I'll take my leave now. Goodbye, Lady Merton."

He nodded sharply at her and before he went to the door, he allowed his eyes to linger on her for a few more seconds. Then he opened his mouth, but the words he wished to say, remained stuck in his throat.

In the hallway the butler took Dickie's coat. "Is her Ladyship already downstairs?" he asked.

"She is," the butler confirmed. "She's in the library with a visitor."

Alarmed by the news, he asked. "Who is it?"

"It's Dr Clarkson," the butler answered.

"I see. Thank you."

Unsure what to expect he headed for the library. There he almost ran into Richard Clarkson,who had just opened the door and stopped annoyed in his tracks when he saw Dickie.

"Lord Merton," he said frostily.

Dickie ignored the cold greeting and asked politely, "Are you already leaving, Doctor?"

"Yes, I am," Clarkson confirmed. "It's about time." He looked over his shoulder one last time, to where Isobel stood and watched them. "She's all yours."

The Bleeding Wolf, a pub in York

Isobel entered the pub, feeling most uneasy. The prospect of coming face to face with Edward again was burdening her, but what weighed much heavier was the fact that she had lied to Dickie. She had promised him to stay away, yet she did the exact opposite and she already loathed herself for doing it. She knew Dickie wanted his lawyer to pay off Edward. As a matter of fact, Dickie had already spoken to him to arrange a meeting, but she knew that would never do the trick. Edward didn't just want the money. He wanted her to deliver it. In his last letter he had been unmistakably clear about the terms and she wanted to delay the matter no longer. Once she was home tonight, she would tell Dickie what she had done and she hoped he would forgive her. But for now she had to force herself to go through with the meeting.

"I'm looking for a Mr Channing," she said to the man behind the bar. He mustered her with narrowed eyes and for a second she feared he knew who she was. The last thing she needed was gossip.

"He's upstairs in his room," the barman said and pointed at the narrow and dark staircase. "Second door on the right."

"Thank you."

With shaking knees she went upstairs. She was scared. She had seen Edward losing his temper more than once. And one time she had suffered dearly from his vile outburst, but she knew by now that scaring her was his method of torturing her. He wanted her to feel small and helpless. It was his revenge on her, his way of holding power over her. But not this time.

Now more determined she walked along the hallway. It was dusty and the air was thick with cold smoke and old sweat. The small windows were dirty and made the grey sky outside even darker.

When she reached the door she raised her gloved hand to knock. Inside she heard rustling and then steps. She unconsciously withdrew when he opened the door.

A wide grin appeared on his face. "My, my…. You took your time." His eyes travelled appreciatively up and down her body, which caused her throat to tighten. He hadn't been this revolting the last time she had met him, but then they were alone now. Back at the hospital he couldn't be sure not be seen by someone.

She was glad to be covered with a thick woollen coat and a long scarf. Her attire was still black, since she and Dickie were still in mourning over Larry's death.

She didn't dignify his remark with an answer and so he invited her in. "Mi casa est su casa," he said, almost cheerfully.

Once she heard the door closing behind her, she felt bile rising in her throat and swallowed it down as quickly as possible. She hated being exposed to him in this disgusting room. His clothes were spread along the room and it was obvious it hadn't been cleaned in weeks. The bed was a mess of dirty sheets and the mere sight of it was enough to cause her another wave of sickness.

"I've got your money," she said with all the dignity she could muster.

"That's at least something at least."

She opened her purse and took out the envelope Dr Clarkson had given her the day before. She tossed it onto the table.

"I guess that is it," she said.

"Not quite yet. Wait," he said and slowly picked up the envelope. He opened it and counted the money with his thumb.

"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped at him.

"Better safe than sorry," he mused. "With you a man can never know. Wouldn't be the first time you set me up."

"I've never set you up," Isobel clarified. "You did it all to yourself!"

Edward stopped counting the money and looked up to meet her eyes. "So, you're here, because you don't feel ashamed of yourself?"

"Why should I?"

"Because you cheated on me with my best friend and later convinced him to kill my child," he said coldly and put the money back on the table. It was obvious this wasn't about the money, but she had known so before. This was about him and his twisted imagination. "I wonder, if the people, who admire you so much, know the real you."

"You're delusional," she said angrily. "You always were and you always will be." She turned on her heels and headed for the door.

"Does your husband know you're here?" he asked resentfully, causing her to stop in her tracks. "My guess is, he doesn't, otherwise he would be here to defend what's left of your honour."

Against her better judgement she asked, "What does it matter to you?"

"It matters a lot. It means you're hiding something from your precious lord," he chuckled. "Tell me, Mylady, what does he know about the unfortunate death of his son?"

"I beg your pardon?" She turned around, utterly confused, and again his eyes mustered every detail of her appearance.

"You're in mourning, aren't you? It was all over the papers that your step son died in a car accident."

"What's it you?" she wanted to know. The devious expression on his face made her feel more uneasy than ever. There was this insane glitter in his eyes that set her on edge.

"The Artful Dodger... That was the pub where he spent his last few hours. He was drinking and gambling – with me." He waited until the news had settled in, before he continued, "And when he had lost the last button he started a fight."

Cold fear was now creeping up on her. "Go on," she ordered breathlessly.

"I saw how he died," he said. "I made sure he wouldn't get up from the street to save his own sorry neck."

Her head started spinning and the bile was back in her throat. That couldn't be. It didn't make sense. It was impossible. But while her brain tried to understand what he was telling her, he kept talking.

"You killed my child and I killed yours."

Isobel shook her head. He was lying. He must be lying, because it couldn't be.

"You're a liar. How could you have known who he was?" she asked, challenging him.

Edward grinned, as if he had expected her question. "It was fate. He was quite a babbler, you know. And the more he drank, the more he told me about his life. How much he hated you. How you married his father for his money and his status. It reminded me of Reginald. It was the same with him. You went after him when you realized he was the one who would get all the reputation and the money. Anyway, we were talking about Mr Grey, your husband's son... your step son. It was so easy… so very easy to kill him."

"I don't believe you." She needed to go. She had to leave the room, before she stopped breathing. Her heart was exploding in her chest and tears burned in her eyes. If any of this was true… she didn't dare to think it through.

She rushed out and as she fled down the hallway his words haunted her, "I'll make sure your husband knows and if it's the last thing I do. He will learn I killed his oldest son, his heir, because of you. How long will his love for you last once he knows what you truly are? You'll find yourself on the street, before you know what hits you. You see, Darling, you took my life and now I take yours. An eye for an eye."

It had taken Kuragin ten pounds to find out where Edward lived, but once he had located him, he knew it had been worth every guinea. It was time the man answered some of his questions. Why did he carry a picture of Lady Merton? Could it be more than a coincidence that her step son had died after a struggle with him?

He understood from Violet's hesitant demeanour that she knew the truth about Edward and his relationship to Lady Merton, but didn't want to talk about it. He knew it wasn't because Violet didn't trust him. The truth behind all this was much more complex – and perhaps dangerous – than he had concluded at first.

The barman looked rather confused when Kuragin asked for Edward. Apparently, he wasn't the only visitor Edward had received today.

"He hasn't come down yet," the barman informed him. "He keeps to himself most of the time."

"Thank you," Kuragin groaned and left a pound note on the bar.

He went upstairs. It was already dark outside and there was just one tiny lamp in the hallway. Kuragin sighed and thanked God for the money he had won and which allowed him to live in better conditions than this.

He reached the door and knocked. No one answered. He knocked again and when he heard no one from the inside he turned the door handle. It wasn't locked. He pushed the door open. It was dark inside. He reached out to find the light switch. The sudden brightness blinded him for a short moment, but as soon as he opened his eyes again, he saw something that turned his blood into ice water.

The only chair in the room lay on the floor, knocked over. Above it the lifeless body of Edward Channing dangled from an old beam, hung by his own hand with a rope made of the dirty sheets of his bed.

~tbc~