Marrisa lay on the cold stone floor, she didn’t know how long she’d been there after the priests refusal to grant the annulment the days and months had bled together into a blur of beating’s as his frustration grew.
Then one morning things had gotten especially bad, he’d beaten her and thrown her into the cellar. Saying if he couldn’t have his annulment she could stay there and rot.
How long exactly she’d been here she wasn’t sure. It could have been days or even weeks. She just knew he’d returned three times since she was left here each time asking if she was willing to go to the priest and tell him they had never consumated.
It didn’t matter now; the priest wasn’t going to grant an annulment regardless of what she said. The church granted so very few, and looked for any reason to refuse. The only way Valdemar would gain his annulment now was by using a lot of money as leverage, the Beaumont estate had no-where that kind of money to throw away.
Marrisa had taken a gamble lying to the priest; the streets meant poverty and probably death for the young woman. She’d hoped the goodness in Valdemar would see though the bitterness he’d built up over the years and perhaps together they could build a marriage.
However now as she lay on the floor having eaten nothing in what felt like days she wondered if Valdemar had taken the vow ’till death do us part’ quite literally.