Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual
Chapter 142: Relief And Blood.

Chapter 142: Relief And Blood.

Night.

Theodore Mansion.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

****************

"Theodore, where are you?" Lydia whispered to herself a question.

The night had draped its velvet cloak over the sprawling grounds of the dark Theodore mansion. It is shrouding everything in an eerie stillness, emotions excluded.

Lydia stood on the front steps bathed in the silvery glow of the moon. She is dressed in her nightgown, her figure a solitary silhouette by the moon against the grand mansion.

Everyone had left for their rooms before she had slipped out of hers to come to wait for Theodore out of worry from the sudden gloominess she felt earlier.

Her husband, the lord of Critic Arley, had yet to return home, and the late hour only added to her growing sense of unease.

Earlier in the day, when she had ventured into the city with her friend, and had been enjoying a leisurely afternoon of shopping she had left Theodore fine and free but now she felt trouble.

He hadn’t told her he would be going out, Yet, upon her arrival, she had found the mansion without him, her husband’s absence and her bad feeling cast a pall over the once-familiar surroundings.

She suddenly felt alone again and she didn’t like that.

She had sat down to eat dinner with Helena, but a gnawing feeling of dread had settled in the pit of her stomach, a premonition of impending doom that lingered in the air like a heavy fog.

Since then, she had been pacing the front steps, her eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of Theodore’s return.

He was with Conan, he should be fine, she would muse.

But as the minutes stretched into hours and darkness descended upon the land completely, her apprehension only deepened.

The stillness of the night was broken only by the distant howl of the wind, echoing the turmoil within her restless heart.

"Lady Theodore I think you should wait inside"

A gasp escaped her mouth at the sudden interruption of the restless stillness.

"Hound" she breathed.

"Yes, lady Theodore" he confirmed. "I am sure the lord would prefer that you were inside if she were to return anytime soon"

Lydia frowned. "If he were?"

"Apologies, Your Highness...lady Theodore of course he shall soon be back" he corrected himself angrily and also assured her.

She gritted out a curse before waving him off. "Just wait somewhere away from me," she said.

He bowed. "Yes, lady Theodore"

He left her alone and she gulped down her doubts before she continued her action of waiting for her husband.

Despite how she had dismissed Hound earlier, with each passing moment, her worry grew, fueled by the ominous energy that seemed to permeate the very air around her.

She longed for the comforting presence of Theodore, his reassuring touch a balm to her troubled soul, he could make her feel better, she thought.

But as the night wore on and her husband failed to appear, she was left alone with her fears, a lone figure standing vigil in the darkness, praying for his safe return.

"Please be safe" she whispered to herself as she settled back in her seat.

Slowly with intending, she started to drift to sleep, she blinked no longer fast but dropped slower and stayed closed until she gasped awake repeatedly and this time as she gasped, a scold in her mind she spotted a figure headed towards her.

"Theodore" she squealed as she left her seat abandoned to sprint for her husband.

With relief and joy in her heart she rushed to embrace him, Theodore with a tired smile gathered her cold self in his arms. He sniffed her hair, his smile stronger now.

She hugged him tighter. "What happened to you?" she asked her eyes wide.

He tried to shrug but her arms were around him. "Nothing much, intruders" he responded.

She scowled. "And they could not have a simple conversation?"

He shook his head.

She started to press a kiss on his cheek making him chuckle but also feel horrible because there was definitely blood on his chin.

"Gooseberry, allow me a bathe please, will you?"

She released him of her tight hold. "Of course, come," she said with a smile filled with realization, before placing her palm in his.

"Hound you can go to your cottage" Theodore grumbled as his eyes met the brooding Hound.

Theodore, weary and worn from the conflict, but calm and satisfied because of his wife trudged through the dimly lit corridors of their mansion.

His once pristine attire now bore the stains of battle, the unmistakable crimson hue of blood splattered across his chest and sleeves.

The flickering candlelight casted eerie shadows on them as they ascended the grand staircase, each step echoing the weight of the night’s turmoil on both their hearts.

Behind him, his worried wife trailed in her nightdress, her delicate features etched with concern, Lydia glanced at their joined hands and her heart shuddered.

Her eyes followed his every move, a silent testament to her apprehension and relief at his return.

She reached out, her hand trembling slightly as if to steady him, but then she hesitated, suddenly unsure whether to touch the evidence of the violence that adorned him despite having kissed him earlier.

They got to their bedroom and reached the threshold of the bathroom, Theodore paused, his gaze meeting his wife’s in a silent exchange of understanding.

Without a word, he pushed open the heavy wooden door, revealing their grand bathing pool within, its surface shimmering in the soft glow of candlelight.

She let go of his hand and awkwardly touched her neck.

With practised ease, Theodore began to shed his bloodstained garments, each article falling to the tiled floor with a muted thud.

Lydia watched in silence, her heart aching with a mixture of fear and longing.

As he stepped into the warm embrace of the bathing pool, the water rippled gently around him, soothing his tired muscles and washing away the remnants of the fight.

He sighed before turning to his wife, Theodore extended a hand. "Join me?" inviting her to join him in the comforting embrace of the water.

But Lydia shook her head, her eyes filled with unshed tears.

"No, there is blood in the water, and it is not your blood," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

Theodore nodded in understanding, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "No," he agreed softly, "it is not."

He could not believe he had just invited her to be stained in the blood of those despicable creatures.

"I shall join you in bed soon" he added softly.

Lydia nodded but she couldn’t leave the room, she missed him.

And so he bathed alone, the rhythmic sound of water lapping against the sides of the pool a soothing lullaby to his weary soul.

Lydia remained by his side, her presence a silent testament to her love and devotion, refusing to leave him alone in the wake of his trials.

For in that moment, all that mattered was the warmth of their shared solace, and the knowledge that they had weathered yet another storm together.

He finished and she handed him a cloak and a towel, he took it with a word of gratitude leaving his lips, he took her hand again and guided her out of the room. She then took reign of their walk and directed him to the mirror. There she took the towel out of his hold and dabbed his wet golden locks, she helped him dry his hair before dropping a kiss on his forehead like he would always do with her.

They left the mirror for the bed and he slipped under the covers before calling for her.

"Come here" he whispered, his eyes holding an amount of possessiveness that made Lydia’s heart thump.

She settled in his arms with a sigh, her hair splaying on his chest and arm.

"Please take care of yourself" she mumbled into his neck, her hold on him tightening.

"I do, Gooseberry" he responded softly "I really do" he added.

"I love you" she whispered.

He smiled. "I love you more"

"Sweet dreams" she wished and just like that drifted into slumber.

"I doubt that" he mumbled moments later into the darkness.

Sweet dreams weren’t his forte.

*

* *

*

Dear Critic.

Invitations have been sent and the next week is sure to be busy, I shall start attending your organisations when winter comes.

With those beautiful dresses, Lady Lively and company purchased from Ms. Janet’s I am certain they would sweep the floor with a new vigour and grace that’d most definitely surprise you all.

Also, a new Glassman is going around making people’s houses a better place to live, I admit you are a bit suspicious but I admire your work.

We shall have more talks about business from now on. No, they shall never be one about a certain jewellery shop anymore.

I hope preparations for winter have commenced.

There has been chaos and suddenly an unearthly quiet, what might be coming?

Could it be from the east? The west? Perhaps South or north? Nobody pays me enough to find out.

Let us all live it.

Yours curious.

Muckraker

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