Liberty for Paul

by Rose Gordon

  “All right; then give me back my clothes.” He reached out further, attempting to grab them from her arms, but she was holding them with all her might and he knew that in order for him to get them back he’d have to use both hands.

  Liberty smiled at him again. If he weren’t so infuriated with her at the moment, he’d almost think she looked pretty. Of course nobody else, including Liberty, he’d bet, actually thought she was. She had plain brown hair matched with hazel eyes and a long nose. Her mouth was wide with slightly crooked teeth and she was nearly as thin as a scarecrow. Her looks would be considered plain at best, not pretty or ugly really, just plain. But when she smiled, it lit up her face and transformed it in a way that he found rather attractive. Trouble was, she barely ever smiled; and never specifically at him—until just now.

  “You’ll get your clothes back when I’m satisfied I’ll never have to clap eyes on you again,” Liberty said tartly, still smiling.

  “I agree,” Paul said heartily, more than happy to oblige her. “Give me my clothes and I’ll be gone in less than ten minutes.”

  Liberty shook her head. “No, that’s not good enough. I need insurance. I need to know you’ll not be coming back into this house, or my presence, ever again.”

  “And taking my clothes is going to accomplish that?” Paul could feel his irritation growing again. Why didn’t she just give them back to him already?

  “Don’t worry, you’ll get them back—eventually,” Liberty said, scooting along the wall away from the fireplace and to the shadowed corner.

  “Listen here,” Paul hissed. “If you think that you’re going to continue to hold my clothes while I stand here naked, you’re greatly mistaken. I’ll get my clothes back one way or the other; and if you don’t give them back on your own accord, you’ll wish you had.”

  “How so?” she queried from the dark corner.

  Paul slowly walked closer to where she was. He could hear the rustle of fabric and knew she was about to do something with his clothes. He just didn’t know what. “I’m not keeping myself covered because of my own modesty.”

  “I’ve already told you that you could move your hands, I already saw your thing,” she said nonchalantly, a ripping noise following her words.

  Paul didn’t believe her the first time she’d told him she’d seen his tool, and he certainly didn’t believe it when he moved his first hand and her eyes were drawn to his waist like a moth to a flame. But enough was enough, and if he had to wrestle her to the ground naked in order to get his clothes back, so be it. Removing his other hand from his privates, he raced to the corner, bent on grabbing his clothes from her evil clutches.

  Liberty squealed and ran in the opposite direction, causing him to nearly collide with the wall. Throwing caution—and pride—to the wind, Paul ran after her. He chased her around the furniture, going over the bed, around the wardrobe, behind the screen, around the tub, to the vanity, and back to tub, knocking over the screen with a loud crash as they zipped by. Paul reached out and stopped her by grabbing the loosened ribbon on the back of her gown.

  “I’ve got you now,” he breathed in her ear after he’d tugged her back to rest against his chest.

  “No, you don’t,” she said, moving in such a way that made the ribbon he held slide through the loops, freeing her from his hold. She immediately scurried to resume her former position by the fireplace.

  Paul looked down in his hand where the ribbon that had once been the making of a bow on the back of her gown now lay across his palm in a wrinkled mess. Looking back up, he saw Liberty over by the fireplace with her gown in complete disarray. Most of the buttons going down the front were undone, showing the tops of her breasts and about three inches of her corset. Her gown looked torn by the sleeve and the skirts were crumpled beyond repair. Her hair, for the most part, had fallen down and looked to be in an awful tangle. There was no way she could look like that after briefly running around the room, could she?

  Throwing the ribbon down to the floor in disgust, Paul looked at her. She had a blank expression on her face and her gaze was leveled on his waist. But he didn’t even care. He was beyond caring. “See something you like,” he teased, hoping to distract her with his words so he could grab his clothes.

  Her face turned crimson and she pulled her eyes up to his face, not quite meeting his eyes. “Actually, no I didn’t. I think I would’ve liked what I saw much better if that scar,” she pointed to a jagged scar he had on his left hip that ran from his hipbone to half an inch from another part of his anatomy, “went just a little further over,” she said, her eyes flashing fire.

  “You’re a bloodthirsty one, aren’t you,” Paul said easily. Leave it to her to want him emasculated, as if this whole situation wasn’t bad enough already.

  “I’m not bloodthirsty,” she said hotly. “It’s just a shame, that’s all.”

  “A shame I was not unmanned?” he asked disbelievingly. “I think that part of my anatomy has suffered at your hands enough already, thank you.” What had he ever done to her to make her have this hatred for him?

  “How did it happen?” she asked quietly, ignoring his remark.

  Paul was in awe. Her voice had been so quiet it was hard to be certain, but he could have sworn her tone had held a hint of sympathy. “When I was twelve, my brother Sam and I found my uncle’s old fencing rapiers. Never having had a fencing lesson, we started wildly swinging them around at each other. Neither of us realized the protective tip wasn’t on Sam’s very well until in one undisciplined swing, Sam’s tip flew off and his rapier cut me.” Paul saw her wince and added ruefully, “Although you’ve expressed disappointment that his rapier did not travel further, I’m rather glad it stopped where it did.”

  “I’m sorry for my remark, it was most unkind of me,” Liberty said softly, still looking at his scar.

  “It’s all right,” he assured her. Compared to all the other things she’d said or done, that was nothing. “May I have my clothes now?”

  His words pulled Liberty out of her trance. Looking down at the clothes in her arms and her own gown, she bit her lip before she looked up and met his eyes again. “I…I...”

  It didn’t matter what she was going to say or do next because just then, the door to his bedchamber swung open and was followed by a shriek of surprise.

  Though Paul had his back to the door, he knew who it was; and just for further confirmation, he knew with certainty he’d guessed right when Liberty turned as white as chalk.

  Chapter 4

  “What’s the meaning of this?” roared Papa.

  Neither Mr. Grimes nor Liberty said anything.

  Liberty saw Mr. Grimes swallow hard and his face turn bright red, but he didn’t say anything. Drat the man. Couldn’t he say something and get them out of this mess? Isn’t that what gentlemen were good for? They helped damsels in distress, didn’t they? Granted she never really considered him a gentleman; and she was the one who took his clothes; and he was standing in front of both of her parents and their butler naked—of course covering what he felt was important—but couldn’t he do something? This was not how she saw the evening going when she’d cried off early at Brooke’s and snuck into his room to take his clothes.

  She’d slipped in during his bath and with all the stealth and silence of a cat, removed all his clothes from his trunk and off the bed. Who in the world laid their clothes on their bed? Why he didn’t drape them over the screen like the rest of the world, she’d never know. But she’d always thought he was a weird one, so she hadn’t dwelt on it too long while collecting his clothes.

  Standing in the shadows by the screen, she’d waited for him to dunk his head into the bath. That’s when she grabbed his towel. Getting his dirty clothes, the ones she still had clutched to her chest, was harder to do. She’d stood in the shadows while he dried off, then, when he'd walked across the room to get his other clothes, she’d tiptoed behind his screen and grabbed them up in a bundle and waited.

  Just as s
he’d predicted, when he didn’t find any clean clothes, he came back to get his dirty ones. The look on his face when he’d seen her holding them over the fire was worth any unpleasant consequence she might be forced to face if this all went bad—all except the one she was now facing, that is.

  She hadn’t expected her parents to appear upon the scene so early. Her plan could have still been salvaged if they hadn’t knocked over the screen while running around the room. But since they had, she was in the only situation that wasn’t worth seeing the shocked look on Mr. Grimes’ face when he saw her holding his clothes over the fire.

  “John,” Mr. Grimes said softly, “there is an explanation for this.”

  “Good,” Papa said roughly. “I’m rather interested in hearing it.”

  “Do you think we could talk about this in your study?” Mr. Grimes asked hopefully.

  “No.”

  Mr. Grimes nodded slowly. Liberty felt all the blood drain from her face. He was about to tell Papa what she’d done. Then not only would her plan be ruined, but who knew what sort of punishment Papa would level on her for this. The last time she’d done something he considered “inappropriate” to Mr. Grimes, Papa had threatened to board her off to America if she so much as looked at him wrong in the future. She shivered. He wouldn’t send her home all alone in the dead of winter, or would he?

  “As it happens, there was a mix up with my clothing,” Paul said evasively, his face turning even redder, if such a thing were possible.

  “Do not worry about your clothing, sir,” said the butler helpfully. “I saw Miss Liberty heap them outside the door earlier. Not to worry, I took them all down to Mary. She will have them all pressed and returned within the hour.”

  Liberty repressed a groan. Their butler was the most unprofessional butler in all of England. If there had been any means to escape this scrape, they were definitely gone now thanks to Turner.

  “Thank you. I look forward to having them back more than you know,” Mr. Grimes said dryly.

  Ignoring Mr. Grimes, Papa cast an imploring glance at Liberty. “Explain yourself,” he thundered.

  Liberty thought she was going to swoon. But fate had never been that kind to her. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and flickered a glance at Mr. Grimes; he looked just as interested in her answer as Papa. “I…I…I don’t know,” she stammered weakly.

  “Yes, you do,” Papa barked, scaring everyone in the room.

  Liberty felt her body begin to shake on its own accord as her father’s gaze pierced her. Her eyes started to fill with tears, and she found that her lips were trembling, and she was powerless to stop them.

  The tension in the room was so thick, she thought she might choke to death on it, but of course that wouldn’t happen, either. She wasn’t that lucky.

  A delicate cough broke the silence and Liberty’s eyes shifted to where Mama was standing next to Papa in the doorway. She’d forgotten Mama was there and sent her a pleading glance. But Mama just shook her head as if to say: “Sorry, my dear, I can’t save you this time.”

  “Do you have something to say?” Papa asked in clipped tones.

  Liberty thought he was talking to her, but Mama must have thought he was talking to her. “Actually, I do,” Mama said gently, turning slightly pink. “Liberty, would you kindly give Paul back his clothing, please.”

  Liberty flushed. At least now the blood was flowing back into her head, she thought wryly. With a tight grip on the bundle of clothes, she weakly extended her hands toward him. But Mr. Grimes didn’t take them from her.

  “Liberty, spare the man anymore embarrassment and throw them on the bed,” Papa said irritably.

  Knowing Papa like she did, she knew he’d meant “throw” in a general sense, not a literal one. But truly how could she resist such an opportunity? “Yes, sir,” she said smugly, sending him a tentative smile. Then hefting the bundle of clothes over her head, she used all her strength—which wasn’t that much since she was a lady after all—and hurled his clothes across the room to fall into a graceless heap. Of course they didn’t land on the bed, not that she’d expected them to.

  Proud of her demonstration of following his orders, Liberty turned to face Papa and was about to make an inane comment, but was halted in her tracks when she heard Mama gasp and saw Papa’s eyes almost pop out of his head. For a moment there she’d forgotten the state of her gown. However, their responses quickly jogged her memory.

  She’d purposely destroyed her gown by ripping the sleeves, undoing half the buttons and somewhat crumpling her skirts, all before he chased her around the room, which only added to the dishevelment. Her plan had been to be seen with her gown this way and accuse him of trying to ravish her. Of course she hadn’t planned to take this so far as to make it public or anything. She just wanted to convince her father to cut ties with him. That plan wasn’t going to work now.

  “Sir, may I please have a few minutes to redress?” Mr. Grimes asked evenly.

  “Fine,” Papa barked. “Both of you, my study, five minutes.”

  Leaving the room in haste, Liberty ran from that room as fast as her slippers could take her. But no matter how fast she ran, or how many times she looked over her shoulder, Mama was still hot on her heels.

  “Liberty Ellis Banks, what were you thinking?!” Mama shrieked, grabbing hold of her back of her dress to keep her from going into her room without her.

  Liberty cringed. She hated her name. Liberty was all right, but she hated being called Ellis. She’d let people think it was because it was more commonly a boy’s name. However, the truth was, it was her mother’s grandmother’s maiden name, and to be quite frank, she’d never liked her great-grandmother very much. Great-Grandma Ellis had been a crotchety ancient bitty who was always spewing vile insults and darning something. On Liberty’s eighth birthday, she told her she’d never live up to the Ellis name, then in front of all the friends and family that were gathered to celebrate, she pointed out all of Liberty’s flaws. She made sure to mention how plain Liberty was compared to her sisters and declared she’d never catch a husband with her gangly smile.

  Unconsciously, Liberty ran her tongue along her crooked top teeth. They weren’t so bad, she admitted to herself. In fact, they were better than most; yet compared to the rest of her family, hers looked awful. One of her front teeth were straight, but the other was at a slight diagonal. It sat slightly in front of the straight one, not a lot, but enough to catch notice. The bottoms, which thankfully she could keep concealed a lot easier, were a jumbled mess. No two teeth down there could be considered straight—well except the big ones, but of course those were in the back, blast it all.

  “I don’t know,” Liberty admitted solemnly after a minute, unfastening the rest of her buttons. She knew what she had been thinking up until the time that Pa…er…Mr. Grimes had told her the story of his scar. That’s when she’d grown a conscience, or perhaps it was a brain. Either way, it was then she realized she couldn’t go through with her heartless plan. Not only was it a stupid thing to do, but she discovered she didn’t have the heart to do it. Of course she still didn’t like him, but to sentence him to the kind of life he’d have been forced into had she followed her plan and the story leaked. She shuddered just to think of it.

  “You do too know,” Mama snapped.

  Liberty’s fingers froze. She’d never heard Mama be sharp, ever. Nothing she’d ever done in the past had brought about this amount of anger from Mama. “I’m sorry,” Liberty said weakly.

  “Sorry?” Mama repeated angrily. “Sorry. You’re sorry? No, that’s not good enough, Liberty.”

  Liberty swallowed. She didn’t know what to say, or how to even start.

  “I demand to know exactly what happened in that room tonight.”

  “I took his clothes,” she admitted quietly.

  “Why?” Mama demanded, coming over to help her out of her gown.

  Liberty had always been one to own up to her mistakes when confronted, no matter how a
wful they were. This one just happened to be of gigantic proportions. “As you know, I detest Mr. Grimes. I had planned to make it look like he had forced himself upon me,” she said meekly, swallowing harder this time. “I thought if Papa believed he’d done something to harm me, his youngest daughter, he’d end his friendship with Mr. Grimes.”

  Mama stared at her as if she didn’t recognize her. Liberty knew it had been a bad idea, and saying it aloud only made it sound worse, but there it was. “That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard,” Mama declared. Her emphasis on the word “stupidest” made Liberty flinch. “Do you not realize what trouble you could have caused him?” Mama's voice echoing off the walls in her small bedchamber.

  Liberty gulped. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

  Mama shook her head in disgust. “Liberty, you’re my daughter and I love you. But this time you’ve gone too far. If the circumstances had been anything else I would have taken up in your defense and tried to talk Papa out of whatever punishment he had in mind for you, but not this time.”

  “It’s all right, Mama,” Liberty assured her. “I’ll accept whatever Papa has in mind.” Her words came out even, belying the turmoil she was fighting inside. What if he sent her back to America? What if he never spoke to her again? It was a foolish notion that he’d never speak to her again, but after the foolish thing she’d done, it could happen.

  “You do realize,” Mama said, breaking into her thoughts, “that Papa might demand you marry Mr. Grimes?”

  Liberty paled. Marriage? Marriage to Mr. Grimes? That possibility hadn’t entered her mind. “Oh,” she said, her voice sounded like a sharp staccato.

  “If that happens,” Mama continued, seeming oblivious of Liberty’s distress, “you will accept Mr. Grimes’ suit and be the perfect wife. Am I understood?”

  Still numb to the idea she might be forced to marry her archenemy, Liberty nodded her understanding.