Modred suddenly jerked and leapt to his feet. “Where is your lady, Bened?”
“The kitchens. Why?”
“We need to get to her now.”
Then the screams echoed along the hallway and Bened was running for the kitchens, faintly aware of everyone else running right behind him. He entered the kitchen to find Primrose shaking, her hands over her face and hoarse little screams escaping her. Dob was frantically cleaning up the remains of a rabbit she had obviously readied for the pot, all the time trying to soothe Primrose with words. He went to Primrose and rubbed her back, saying empty useless words that did nothing to calm her as she quieted to a whispered repetition of “Constantine. She has killed my Constantine.”
He was pushed aside by Lilybet who whispered an apology and then slapped Primrose, hard. Bened grabbed Primrose when she staggered back but swallowed his angry words for Lilybet when he saw Primrose’s eyes clear then darken with annoyance as she glared at the other woman. Acting as if she did not even know she had been a babbling mass of hysterical woman but a moment ago.
“What the bloody hell did you do that for?” she demanded.
“You were hysterical. A good hard slap is one of the cures for it. Bened rubbing your back and saying ‘there, there’ was doing no good,” Lilybet replied.
“I did not say, ‘there, there,’” Bened protested even though he could not be all that sure he had not.
“Near enough.”
Modred stepped over and took both of Primrose’s hands in his. He was still pale but he no longer looked as if he was about to collapse, and Bened had to assume that Primrose had her shields back in place for he showed no sign of hearing anything.
“I fear you were hysterical, Miss Primrose,” he said, “but not without reason. Do you recall what set you off?”
“I recall coming into the kitchen and Dob moved and then I saw . . . I saw . . .” She took a deep breath and the duke squeezed her hands.
“I know what you saw and it was vicious, cruel, evil. I think you have a very good mind, clever and able to retain all kinds of things you read, hear, or see, but it is also strong enough to slam up a wall and hide what it feels will hurt you too much. You just recalled one of those things, did you not?”
“Days ago I recalled why I was so desperately afraid of the dark, especially if I am out in the woods alone.”
“And you just recalled another thing. This was not caused by that memory. You have adjusted to that.”
“Constantine,” she whispered, and felt tears run down her cheeks. “I remembered my dog. I was twelve and he disappeared. All I could recall was that he disappeared and we looked for a few days. No more than that. I thought it strange. But I just recalled what happened to him, didn’t I?”
“Yes, I fear you did. And your clever mind knew that, at that tender age, it could break you so it did what it felt it must to protect itself. It walled it all in so you could not remember.” He smiled faintly. “Even though I suspect you could give me all of Act Three of Othello word for word.” He nodded when she blushed and then let go of her hands.
“She butchered him.” When the duke stepped aside so Bened could put his arm around her, she leaned into Bened, welcoming his warmth and strength. “She showed me his coat of fur and said she was going to make mittens of them for me. I think that is when I swooned. When I woke up all I knew was that my dog, my constant companion, was gone and so we looked for him. I just don’t understand why my mind hid that away. It could have made us see Augusta for the sick, evil woman she is so much sooner.”
“It would have broken you,” said the duke.
“I would like to think myself stronger than that.”
“You were a young, sensitive girl on the cusp of womanhood.”
“A very sensitive time for a girl, a time of high emotion and easily broken hearts,” said Dob as she handed Primrose a cup of hot sweet tea. “Drink that down.”
“I suspect all your love and affection, things the woman in that house never returned, went into that dog.” The duke reached out and patted her on the arm. “You must rid yourself of this woman. She will never stop and her actions will simply grow worse and worse.”
“It makes me sad to think I had the knowledge of just how ill she is and it was hidden away. It could have saved my father.”
“I think if your mind had not hidden it away and it had broken you, whatever you had the ability to say would not have been listened to.”
“Ah, of course, for everyone would have seen me as the one who was ill.”
“The wound has been mended now, though. Whatever trouble that walled-in memory caused will pass away now.”