Liberty for Paul

by Rose Gordon

  Paul raised his hands in mock innocence. “Forgive me,” he said, his voice uneven from trying not to laugh. “I did not mean to take such liberties, Liberty.”

  She twisted her lips and contorted her face in such a way that she looked like she was suffering from a digestive complaint. He couldn’t hold it in any longer, he let out the howls of laughter he’d been trying to keep inside.

  She scowled at him. “Don’t think for one moment that if you choke on your dinner that I’ll whack you on the back and save you the way Brooke did for Andrew.”

  “Not to worry,” he said in between bursts of laughter, “I didn’t have any food in my mouth.”

  “What a pity,” she muttered.

  When Paul got his laughter under control he stared at his wife across the table. Her face still had the pinched up constipated look, but she was still there, which was a good sign in his opinion. “Hmm. What was that you said last spring? Oh yes, liberty means freedom from external rule. I do believe your parents named you well. I don’t believe anyone could rule you.”

  “I know,” she said pertly and smirked.

  Paul got up from his spot at the table and walked to Liberty’s side. “Liberty,” he said, deliberately using her name to irritate her, “I believe I shall retire for the evening. But before I go, I would like to inform you that I am granting you the liberty to call me Paul.”

  Chuckling at her angry face, he walked out the door and didn’t even stop when her grubby dinner roll hit him squarely in the back of the head.

  Chapter 10

  The next morning Liberty was awakened by a rap, rap, rap on her door. Thinking it was her annoying husband, she pulled the covers over her head and ignored the second, louder round of raps that sounded on her door.

  She groaned a few minutes later when she heard the door open.

  “Ma’am, are you awake?” the housekeeper asked.

  Immediately Liberty pulled the blankets down and said, “I’m sorry. I thought you were my annoying husband.”

  “Sorry to disappoint, but he couldn’t knock,” called her infuriating husband from the hallway, “he was just standing out in the hall, holding two very heavy buckets of hot water.”

  Mrs. Siddons looked like she was trying not to laugh. “He insisted you have a bath in your room this morning,” she explained, pulling a copper tub into the middle of the floor.

  “He insisted?” Liberty repeated hollowly. What was he up to now? Her eyes narrowed on the housekeeper. Surely she was not in on whatever his plans were.

  “Yes,” she said, nodding. “I told him I was unable to carry the water up, bad back, wouldn’t you know,” she ran the knuckles of her left hand up and down her spine a bit, “he said that was fine and he carried the pails up himself.”

  There must be more to this story, she thought.

  “Are you ready for me yet?” Mr. Grimes asked from the hall.

  “Almost,” the housekeeper hollered back, then looked to Liberty for her to confirm she was ready.

  Liberty pulled the blankets up to her chin. “You can come in now,” she said.

  “Good,” he said, walking into the room. Wordlessly, he poured the steaming water into her tub. Then went to leave, stopping at the door to flash her a quick smile and softly say, “Enjoy your bath, Liberty.”

  She nodded and he left.

  Mrs. Siddons asked if she needed any assistance, and Liberty shook her head no.

  Once she was alone, Liberty slipped into the tub and enjoyed herself for so long that by the time she got out, the water had become lukewarm.

  Liberty didn’t know what to do with her day. Yesterday she’d read the entire novel Pau—Mr. Grimes had given her. She hadn’t meant to read it all at one time, she’d just enjoyed it so much, she couldn’t make herself put it down. They lived only a thirty minute ride from Bath. Perhaps she’d go to a bookshop there and get another.

  She frowned. She had very little pin money left and Papa told her that he and Pa—Mr. Grimes hadn’t discussed her allowance. She swallowed. She doubted she’d ever be getting one with how much her husband seemed to dislike her. And she certainly didn’t feel comfortable enough with him to ask him about it.

  Liberty went down the stairs and in search of the library. Mr. Grimes had mentioned she would likely fill their library up with her books; but surely he had to have some of his own already in there.

  Scanning the shelves, a tidal wave of disappointment swept over her. All he had were books that were either written in Latin, therefore, rendering them unreadable to her, or they were about Theology.

  Marching upstairs, she ran into Mrs. Siddons carrying down her dirty linens. “Mrs. Siddons, do you know when Mr. Grimes will return?”

  “Just before dinner,” the housekeeper said.

  “Oh,” Liberty said, deflated. Even if he were unpleasant to be around, it beat being by herself all day.

  “Not to worry, he’ll get that old bathwater out as soon as he gets here,” the housekeeper said with a cheery smile.

  Liberty started. “Huh? Oh yes, my bathwater.”

  “I best be about my duties,” Mrs. Siddons said, hurrying off.

  “Wait,” Liberty called. “What is there to do around here all day?” She knew it probably seemed selfish to ask a servant what there was to do, but boredom made a person say things they usually wouldn’t.

  “You can go to Bath,” she suggested.

  “I’m not the best rider,” Liberty admitted truthfully. She’d never even ridden before. Anyway, she’d rather admit she didn’t have good skills on the back of a horse than admit she had no money.

  “Take the carriage,” Mrs. Siddons said simply. “The master left it here for you.”

  “Brilliant,” she beamed. She may not be able to buy anything, but at least she’d get out of the house.

  Less than an hour later she stood in the same bookshop she’d browsed the last time she’d been to Bath.

  She walked around the room and found the romance novel section. Running her finger across the shelf, she scanned all the titles. She dared not pick any of them up for fear she might actually want to read it. She’d seen several that the title alone made her want to read the book. Then she’d sternly remind herself she was just window shopping, and swiftly pull her hand back to her side.

  “Have you already read all these?” a voice behind her said, startling her.

  Liberty turned around and saw a petite woman that somehow looked familiar. She wasn’t sure how or why, but she’d swear she knew this woman. “No,” she said hesitantly.

  “That’s too bad. Some of them are very good. And others, well, they’re not,” the other woman said.

  Liberty nodded.

  “Which one are you thinking of getting?” the woman continued, favoring her with a sweet smile.

  “I’m not,” Liberty blurted out.

  The woman blinked at her and Liberty thought she better elaborate. “I didn’t bring enough money with me today,” she said evenly. It was the truth. She’d left what little money she had at home.

  “Oh, well then, just have them put it on your husband’s credit,” the woman suggested easily.

  What an excellent idea! Liberty tried not to smile as she thought of all the things she was going to be able to buy on Mr. Grimes credit. The man may think to control her by not giving her an allowance; well, she was going to see that she got what was hers one way or the other.

  Grabbing a few volumes off the shelf, she flashed the woman a grateful smile and walked to the counter. “I want to purchase these on Mr. Paul Grimes’ credit, please,” she told the clerk with a cheeky smile.

  The clerk’s eyes traveled up and down her form and he licked his lips before he said, “I’m sorry, but he doesn’t have credit in this store. However, I’d be happy to let you buy them on your own credit.”

  Liberty blinked. “All r—”

  “There’s no need for that,” the other woman cut in sharply, sneering at the cashier. “You can put t
hem on my son’s credit.”

  “Yes, milady,” the clerk said with an audible gulp.

  “That’s not necessary,” Liberty protested. Who was this woman? And what had caused her to react so severely to the clerk’s suggestion?

  “Yes, it is.” The woman paid for the books she had in her hand and signed the ledger for Liberty’s.

  “No, it’s really not. I’ll just put these back and come back when I have more money,” Liberty said, grabbing the books off the counter.

  “Nonsense,” the woman said with a smile. “My son will pay for them.”

  “I cannot accept that,” Liberty choked out. “I must pay for them myself.”

  “You can work it off,” the lady told her airily, waving her hand in a dismissive way.

  “Work it off?” Liberty breathed, her lips quivered. What did this woman mean by that? She knew there were many women who worked off gifts and the like by doing what some called “favors” for gentlemen. She didn’t know exactly what these “favors” entailed, and to be honest, she didn’t want to know. “No!” Liberty shouted.

  The other woman jumped nearly a foot in the air at Liberty’s outburst. Putting her books down, the woman put her hand on Liberty’s wrist in a comforting gesture. “Calm down, dear. This man might expect you do to that for the books,” she cast a scathing glare at the clerk, “but my son won’t. He’s quite in love with your sister.”

  Mortification like she’d never known before washed over Liberty. No wonder this woman looked familiar, she was Andrew’s mother. They certainly didn’t look identical, in fact, Andrew resembled his father in many ways, but he had a few of his mother’s traits, especially her eyes. She could see that now. “How did you know who I was?” she asked uncomfortably.

  “Brooke,” the countess said simply, as if that explained everything.

  “Oh dear,” Liberty said, shaking her head. If Brooke had been talking about her to Andrew’s mother, who knows what might have been said.

  “It’s not so bad,” she assured her. “She says only the nicest things about you. Anyway, when I walked in I recognized you right away from a miniature Brooke has of you. She shows those things off all the time.”

  Liberty giggled. “That doesn’t sound like something she’d do.”

  The countess snorted. “I assure you, she does. One would think she’s older than I am with the way she talks of her family and wants to show anyone, and everyone, miniatures of them.”

  “You two must get along quite well,” Liberty mused.

  “We do,” the countess agreed. “Would you care to walk with me?”

  “That would be lovely,” Liberty agreed, shooting one more scowl at the clerk before they departed.

  “He’s scum,” Andrew’s mother said when they got outside.

  “Pardon me?”

  “I said that clerk is scum. But that’s of no consequence now. He won’t give you any trouble now that he knows of your relation to Andrew.”

  Liberty nodded. “Lady Townson,” she began.

  The dowager countess stopped and turned to look directly at Liberty. “Don’t call me that,” she said sharply. “You may address me as Elizabeth or Lizzie, that’s it.”

  “A…all right,” Liberty said, swallowing a nervous laugh that was lodged in her throat.

  “Now then, dear,” Elizabeth said sweetly, “what was it you were going to ask.” Her dark blue eyes softened and her smile had returned in full force.

  “I was just wondering what you meant by me paying Andrew back for the books,” Liberty said uncomfortably. “I mean, you already knew who I was.”

  “Yes, I know,” Elizabeth acknowledge. “I have a proposition for you,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

  “You do?” Liberty squeaked.

  “How would you like to be a lady’s companion?” Elizabeth asked, shocking Liberty to her toes.

  “I would love to!” she exclaimed. Then, “Wait, whose lady’s companion?”

  “Mine, of course,” Elizabeth said, laughing.

  “That would be delightful,” Liberty said. Just as long as she didn’t slip and call her “Lady Townson” again, they’d get along famously.

  “Excellent, you may start tomorrow.”

  Liberty and Elizabeth walked around the block to iron out the details before Liberty got back into her carriage. Her new post as Elizabeth’s lady’s companion was just the thing she needed. Elizabeth explained she didn’t need her company every day and they decided three days a week would be plenty. That settled what she’d be doing four days out of her week; now she just needed to figure out what to do for the other three.

  Chapter 11

  The next week breezed by. Liberty spent three days being a lady’s companion, one day acting as the perfect vicar’s wife, and to fill the other three days she’d decided to join some of the local organizations.

  The decision to join the local sewing circle had come about when Mrs. Jenkins, the director, had come to her home unannounced and saw her hemming one of her gowns. Liberty didn’t think she was very handy with a needle, but the stubborn Mrs. Jenkins claimed her work was acceptable and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  She also joined an organization that helped a group of local illiterates learn to read after she saw a flyer for it posted outside the local tavern of all places. She loved to read and could think of nothing better to do with her Tuesday mornings than to help others learn.

  Finally, she’d decided she’d spend her last free day doing light shopping for herself and the household. However, that plan faltered when she very quickly realized that Mr. Grimes had no lines of credit in any store in Bath. Therefore, with nothing else to do, she decided it would be a good thing to bring baskets of food to the less fortunate. She’d started with the sick and elderly first, and asked around to see if others needed it.

  Her husband acted excited when she told him about her chosen activities. She’d conveniently left off that she was getting paid to act as a companion to Andrew’s mother. She didn’t want Mr. Greedy to confiscate her wages like he had her dowry. Elizabeth had insisted on paying her herself, claiming she didn’t like to take money from Andrew. Liberty didn’t understand why not. The man had buckets of it now that he’d literally struck gold. Last summer he’d built mines on his land to dig for silver, and instead, he found gold.

  Brooke liked to tease him and say it was because of her that his life turned to gold. Oddly enough, he’d usually just kiss her and say, “I know.”

  Liberty sighed. Oh, how wonderful it must be to love your spouse, she thought with a wistful smile. Unfortunately she’d never know that feeling with Paul er Mr. Grimes. Drat. She was having a harder time now than before remembering even to think of him as Mr. Grimes.

  The man was absolutely bound to get her to call him Paul. And the problem was she’d already had a hard enough time thinking of him as ‘Mr. Grimes’ before his newest campaign. But now it was nearly impossible. And she knew if she started to think of him as ‘Paul’, she’d slip and call him that, and then he’d gloat, no doubt.

  Earlier, at dinner, he’d been absolutely infuriating. She had just taken her seat at their little kitchen table, which, for some odd reason, she didn’t mind the intimacy of it. Anyway, he came into the kitchen with the two pails of her bathwater from that morning and announced, “Paul’s hungry, is Liberty?”

  “Excuse me?” she said, flabbergasted. Here she’d been thinking how sweet he’d been all week by bringing hot water up to her everyday so she could bathe in her room, and he has to go and ruin it with that ridiculous statement.

  “Paul said, ‘Paul’s hungry, is Liberty?’” he repeated as if she were the idiot of the pair.

  “I heard what you said,” she snapped.

  He smiled at her and silently took a seat across the table.

  Unable to take his teasing smile another second, she demanded, “What are you doing?”

  Shrugging his shoulders, he glanced down to where his hand was on the se
rving piece. “Paul’s just about to serve you your lamb. Scoot your plate over here a bit closer, Liberty.”

  Resisting the urge to whack him upside the head with her plate, she pushed it closer to him and watched as he put the better piece of lamb on her plate. “Thank you,” she said when he pushed her plate back to her.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, fixing his own plate.

  “What did you do today?” she asked, becoming startled when she realized those words had actually passed through her lips. She jumped again when she realized she was actually interested in his answer.

  “Paul had a very productive day,” he said, nodding enthusiastically. “Paul taught lessons to a group of boys. Paul thinks they’re actually beginning to understand it. Then Paul visited a sick man and Paul was asked to pray for him because the family thinks his time is near. Then Paul came home and emptied Liberty’s bathwater, and now Paul is about to eat.”

  “Stop that,” she ground out, irritated with herself that she’d even bothered to listen to all that nonsense.

  He set his fork down, wiped his mouth and glumly said, “Paul’s sorry Paul’s eating offends. Paul will wait until Liberty’s done.”

  She wanted to laugh at him. He knew what she was talking about. She’d bet her life on it. Yet, he was playing the idiot just to get to her. Fighting the smile that was tugging on her lips, she forced herself to scowl and ask, “What are you about?”

  He blinked. “Nothing,” he said innocently.

  “Well, stop it,” she snapped.

  “Stop what?” His face was a look of pure innocence. If she didn’t know better, she’d believe him innocent of just about anything with a face like that.

  “Stop talking about yourself in the third person,” she ground out.

  “Oh, Paul’s sorry,” he said, smiling when she pursed her lips. “Paul decided since Liberty cannot seem to remember Paul’s name, Paul should remind Liberty of it as often as possible.”