To Win a Wallflower

by Liz Tyner

  ‘I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want you hurt. I want you to have all the best of this life. The best of food, clothes and the house you have always lived in.’ He stopped talking and seemed to be choosing his words. ‘I can’t take you from this life and put you into my own. It’s not a pleasant world. My mother died in it.’

  ‘You want me to have all these things and yet you do not want to give me yourself.’

  ‘I’ve told you, I want the best for you.’

  ‘In your case—’ she directed her gaze at him ‘—I will take an exception. I would settle for less than perfect. Much less than perfect.’ She tightened the covers around her.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Don’t you have somewhere to be?’ She blinked, directing him to the door with her eyes. ‘That house where you live...the one with walls which are not welcoming, but which you cannot wait to dash back to.’

  He leaned down and touched both her arms. ‘You have to understand. It’s for the best. I could not see you hurt. You think you feel pain now. It is only a little discomfort compared to what my world could bring you. I’ll see you often, but I can’t have you hurt. And I cannot risk the moments that might bring a child into the world.’

  ‘You are not asking me to be a wife. And I don’t think you’re asking me to be a mistress.’ She took in a deep breath, feeling it become a knot in her stomach. ‘What options does it leave?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Do you love me?’

  Was she mad? His thoughts jumped into his mind before he realised they were there. Love? Love? What did she want love for? It was an evil way to manipulate people. Once they loved you, you could use them as you wished.

  ‘Do you love me?’ she asked, voice shrill.

  ‘Of course.’ He firmed himself straight and forced the words from his mouth. ‘I love you.’ The most foolish words he’d ever said, but if she wanted to hear them, then he would say them.

  She jumped up, realised she was naked, searched the floor and grabbed the first thing at hand: his coat.

  Momentarily, conversation flew from his mind. A waif stood in front of him, swallowed by his clothes. Her image burned into him and, even in the dim lamplight, he could see every fold of the cloth and every curve of the skin.

  ‘I’m so thankful you didn’t choke on those words as you spat them out.’ The waif disappeared and Annie returned to view.

  With the accuracy of a hawk pinpointing a perch on which to land, the words flew from his mouth. ‘I won’t be used,’ he said. ‘Not by you. Not by anyone.’

  ‘We’re not talking about that. We’re talking about love.’

  ‘We are talking about that.’ He raised his shoulders high. ‘Why would you care if I love you if not to use me? If it is all about unselfishness, then why does it matter?’

  He touched his chest. ‘I am here. I am kind to you. What else matters? The fluffy bows I draw around the words? The ones to manipulate?’

  ‘I do not want to manipulate you.’ She pulled the coat closed tight, but didn’t release the cloth.

  ‘Not unless it is to get me to tell you I love you.’

  She had one foot in front of the other and leaned her weight back, balancing, adding distance between them.

  He turned. He could not bear the hurt, anger and accusation in her face. He saw framed lace on the wall, a ladies’ fan and a butterfly, covered in glass. Art his father would take delight in crashing to the ground to watch the shards appear. Beauty he would destroy. If his father discovered someone cared about it, he would take joy in the destruction.

  ‘You need to have someone who can give you a life of peaceful dreams and happiness.’ A life without his father and a life without the spying and trickery.

  ‘And you cannot?’

  ‘I must work until I am exhausted. The memories that live within me can’t be awoken. Moments of stillness like this... It opens the door to the unrest inside me. I have to hold the past at bay. My duties come first. They must.’

  ‘I would have thought that perhaps I could take your memories from the things that disturb you.’

  They stared at each other across the bed.

  ‘You have. But I must continue to live and take care of the duties I have.’

  He looked at the coat, decided he could manage one night walking home half-dressed. If memory served right, it had happened before.

  But never with anyone standing there—a waif—in his coat.

  He drew himself tall. If that was what she wanted, so be it. He would put the blasted bow on the words. ‘I—’

  He waited for his words, forming them. ‘I am here.’

  ‘With one pound note meaning you tolerate someone and five pound notes meaning you love them, how many pound notes would I receive?’

  ‘Eleven.’ There. That should satisfy her.

  ‘That little inner voice is telling me that you mean one point one.’

  ‘Well, it’s considerably more affection than I’ve ever given anyone else.’

  She walked over, extinguished the lamp, darkening the room, and then her footsteps pattered nearer and she thrust out the coat to him and walked away, moving back under the covers. ‘I can get affection from a pet.’

  He thought about trying to tell her again those words of love she wanted. But it would be wasting her time and his. He couldn’t say it the way she wanted to hear it and he doubted he felt anything the way she expected him to feel it.

  The door was closer than she was.

  * * *

  Barrett left, moving to the exterior door, striding outside and following the dark path to his house.

  Putting his head back, he closed his eyes as he walked. None of his feelings could leave his body from where they were trapped inside. Something had taken hold of him, giving him a wax-like coating, hardening over him, and his thoughts churned inside, controlled by the barrier that wouldn’t let them escape.

  He wanted to be with Annie. Craved the feel of her inside his arms. Wanted to feel her against his skin. Wanted to shut out everything and hold her close.

  When he arrived at the façade of his house, he kept walking.

  He’d forced the foolish words of love from his lips after holding Annie in his arms. Words he’d hated to say. Words of weakness and surrender. But he’d said them for Annie. And she’d tossed them away like scraps on to the ground.

  He turned to the right and then after a while to the right again, the wind brushing his face, and then again, and then again. When he passed his house again, he kept walking. Then he stopped—feeling the circular route of his path and the circular route of his life.

  Something broke loose inside him and he changed direction, completing the same path but in reverse. If his life was to change, he would have to think differently than he had been. He considered how he had done things in the past and how he could do things in the future if he were to take the opposite path.

  Morning dawned and he noticed the servants leaving the houses on their errands. A few coaches on the street. A magistrate laughing companionably with a woman who had once approached Barrett with a proposition. Another man leaving the door of his house and jumping into a town coach.

  He watched the people, seeing them as people and not as chess pieces. Not as particles to be moved one way or another to suit his purposes,

  But then he understood that a part of him would never change. His past would always be inside him. He could choose the direction he would point his future to, but even though he could choose the direction, the world would conspire to do as it wished.

  When he finally stopped in front of his father’s house, seeing the walls brightened by the rising sun and morning’s fresh glow covering the walls, he saw his gaol. He’d been locked inside his whole life.

  He made a decision before returning to the prison.

&nbs
p; Chapter Eighteen

  His father watched him. The man had been prowling around Barrett, sniffing like a wolf looking into a flock of lambs. Watching for a weakness. A blink. ‘Which daughter is it?’ his father asked. ‘Which is it you’re sniffing after?’

  Ice touched Barrett’s chest, but he looked his father in the eye. ‘All of them, of course.’

  The old man scratched his chin. He looked out the window, eyes lost in thought. Then he turned to Barrett. ‘You thinking of marriage?’

  ‘What? Marriage? What is that? A noose around your neck that never kills you but just stops you from being alive.’ He quoted his father’s words back to him.

  ‘Eh,’ his father said. ‘I know when you’re planning something. It’s a woman.’

  ‘No. It’s not.’ Barrett met his father’s eyes.

  ‘You’ve never been as good a liar as I am. I’ll tell her what you’re really like.’

  Barrett didn’t speak.

  ‘You can’t marry,’ his father said. ‘You’re not my legitimate son. If you marry, I’ll tell the world.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter now. No proof, either way. They’ll say you’re insane.’

  ‘No. I’m mad.’ He laughed. ‘It sounds better.’

  ‘So it does,’ Barrett said and put the food on the table at his side. He rested in the chair, letting his eyes close while he listened to his father muttering.

  A pillow flew by his head and he picked it up and tossed it back on to the bed.

  He stared at his father. ‘This may be your house, but that doesn’t matter as I’ve taken it from you. This is your house in name only. I’ve lived in it my whole life and it is as much mine as yours. Summers and Nettie are loyal to me and I can make sure the new servants they’ve hired are as well.’

  ‘I kept the wrong child,’ his father sneered. ‘And I should have tossed you under the wheels of a carriage.’

  ‘Too late now.’ Barrett smiled. ‘I’m not walking in front of any carriages with you around.’

  Barrett dozed throughout the night and opened his eyes once when the sun rose, then he drifted back to sleep.

  * * *

  A sound woke Barrett, but he didn’t move. He heard his father leaving the bed, slipping out the door and shutting it with a quiet snap. Five times he’d baited the trap and five times his father had slept through the night and long into the morning.

  He opened his eyes and looked at the empty bed, waiting, hoping he’d hired just the right man.

  He rested one elbow on the chair arm and his forefinger over his lip, then he leaned back and shut his eyes, waiting for footsteps.

  When he heard running on the stairs, he kept his eyes closed until the door opened.

  He stood, internally braced.

  His father walked in with a smirk on his face. ‘I brought the magistrate, Barrett.’ He turned to the weathered man with him. The man took in three breaths without releasing any air when he looked at Barrett.

  The Viscount pointed to Barrett. ‘I want him out of the house. Now.’

  The magistrate looked like he’d rather be in a fiery pit at that moment. ‘Begging your pardon, Mr Barrett, but I believe the Viscount has a right to his own house. If I’m not mistaken, it is his house.’

  Barrett looked at the magistrate. ‘You’ve known of his rages.’

  ‘Not a crime in a man’s own house.’ The magistrate paused.

  ‘Entailed,’ the Viscount snapped. ‘And a good thing, too. He would have robbed me of it if he could. He’s always hated me and I’ve done the best for him. He’s wanted for nothing.’

  ‘I’ve increased your fortune tenfold,’ Barrett snapped at his father. ‘I’ve robbed nothing from you. Only added to it.’

  ‘Only for yourself.’ The Viscount raised a fist. ‘Only for yourself. You took my money little by little. I didn’t see it happening until a few years ago. As soon as I realised what was going on, you locked me in a room and brought people in to keep me there. You gave my staff a choice, be loyal to you or they would be out of a job. Well, things are changing.’

  ‘Mr Barrett. If you won’t go, I’ll have to get some help.’ The magistrate spoke. ‘A man has a right to live in his own home.’

  ‘And take those little rats with you. Summers and Nettie,’ his father called out. ‘I can’t stand the sight of them.’ The Viscount trembled in his excitement.

  ‘You can’t keep me from here,’ Barrett said. ‘I’ll be back.’ He stood, unmoving except for his lips, and he stared at his father. ‘Your blood is in my veins and my grandmother’s blood as well. Take that for what it’s worth.’

  The magistrate reached for Barrett’s arm. ‘This is a sad day when a son acts so to his father. You can’t threaten a viscount in his house. Or lock him in.’ He jerked Barrett’s arm. ‘You’ll leave now and I’ll see that you won’t be back.’

  Their steps thudded down the stairs and to the front entrance. The new butler gave a nod as Barrett walked by and the new housekeeper stood just beyond his shoulder, the scar above her eye telling of her youth on the docks.

  After they stepped through the door, and before they moved in sight of his father’s windows, Barrett turned to the little man. ‘Are you certain you can watch over him?’

  The man grinned at Barrett, but he didn’t loosen the hold on his arm. ‘Yes. I’ve spent my life fighting bigger men than me. I did as you said and hired two others. With that and the new servants you have inside the house, he shouldn’t move a whisker without us knowing. I’ll be sure to convince him just as you said. He’ll believe we’re protecting him from you.’

  ‘If he starts getting difficult, get a message to me and I’ll visit, and you can toss me out again. I’ll raise a bigger conflagration than any he’s ever done.’

  The magistrate moved closer to Barrett. ‘Don’t worry, he’ll hear no good of you from my lips.’

  Barrett nodded and stepped in the direction of the street, out from the eaves of the house, and could feel his father’s eyes staring into his back. Jerking his arm from the magistrate’s hand, Barrett stalked away from the man. ‘Leave me be,’ Barrett called out. ‘You’re making a mistake.’

  ‘Nothing worse than an ungrateful son,’ the magistrate shouted after Barrett. ‘The Viscount deserves better than you.’

  Barrett didn’t look back. Freedom burst into his veins. He turned his head down and kept his feet steady as he walked away, each step leaving his past behind. He’d been released from his gaol. His lips turned up and he lowered his gaze more, not wanting anyone to see anything different.

  Annie. He could hardly wait to see her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  ‘Mr Barrett is here,’ the maid said, walking to stand by Mr Carson’s chair. ‘The sitting room.’

  Annie looked up from her breakfast. Both her father and mother looked at the maid and then back at Annie.

  Annie’s eyes widened. She’d been thinking of him all morning. She’d received a gift from him two days earlier with a brief note wishing her well. She was certain the man of affairs had picked out the small statuette of an angel. The note had been all the style of Barrett, hoping it found her in good spirits and with warmest regards.

  Warmest regards.

  She was fairly certain he meant it.

  In fact, she imagined him pausing as he wrote it and trying to decide if it was too much sentiment.

  ‘Well, I know he’s not here to see me,’ her mother said, dotting her mouth with her napkin. ‘He did not want to dance with me last week. The cad.’

  ‘I suppose that would leave Annie.’ Her father peered at her. ‘Let’s see what he wants.’

  She stood, gripping her napkin, holding the fabric tight.

  ‘I don’t think he holds you in warmest enough regards,’ her mother said.

  Annie tensed. She knew her mother would not
expend herself to look through Annie’s things and Annie had only told Myrtle.

  ‘I’m not really pleased with his inability to see what a treasure you are, Annie. If you don’t get a proposal from him and he doesn’t fall to your feet and kiss your slippers after not seeing you for so many days, I’d doubt that regard just a bit.’ She stared at her daughter, clenching her teeth between each word. ‘And if you kiss his boots, you’ll be kissing them the rest of your life and, I assure you, you will get tired of the taste of leather.’

  Her mother stood, took her father’s arm and the three of them moved to the sitting room.

  Barrett stood, completely lost to her behind the distant look in his eyes.

  ‘I’m no longer living at my father’s house,’ he spoke to Annie, then turned to her father. ‘I’ve told my man of affairs, and then I realised there was only one other person I wanted to tell.’

  Her father looked at her. ‘I suppose that would be you because I don’t particularly care where he lives.’ He took his wife’s arm. Her mother glared at Barrett and marched out of the room.

  Annie closed the distance between them. ‘Why did you decide to leave?’

  ‘As it stands, he threw me out.’

  She tightened her hand around the napkin. ‘Your father? Threw you out?’

  ‘He had the magistrate do it.’ Barrett held out a hand little higher than his shoulder. ‘A man twice my age and half my size. I know when I’m outmatched. I left.’

  He threw his head back and looked above. ‘But he was in on my plan. I hired a new butler and a housekeeper, then instructed them to give me a mild criticism in my father’s hearing while I was away from him. Nothing too severe to raise his suspicions.’

  ‘Where are you going to live?’ She knew. She knew when she looked in his eyes he would propose to her that very day.

  ‘There’s a small town house, hardly bigger than your attic. Overpriced. I bought it. The roof leaked and the rugs were stained, but furniture will be delivered to the lower storey by tonight. I’ve arranged that it will be finished within a month, though preparations are in place to fix the worst problems today.’