by Cari Hislop
A Companion for Life
Copyright 2008 Cari Hislop
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A Companion for Life
End of Sept 1816 (London)
An oval of light hung over the intimate dining table turning the serving footmen into shadows. Seated between Mr Philips, her inebriated brother-in-law on her left and William Bowen, her niece’s fiancé on her right, Miss Lily Leigh hunched in her seat, hoping no one would notice that her bottom protruded a number of inches over either side of her chair. She herself wouldn’t have noticed if Mr Penryth Bowen hadn’t been seated at the other end of the table next to her sister. Lily’s eyes wove through candlesticks and glinting table ornaments to snatch another glance at the Welshman across the table to her right, and then returned directly to her plate. To see the man so close was to sip the elixir of life. How could anyone want to die when the sight of him made one’s heart feel caught between the determined fingers of heaven and hell?
If a swan could be transformed into a man, it would become Mr Bowen. His every movement appeared effortless, graceful and noble. She’d never forget their meeting in her parent’s garden. He’d been standing by the fountain watching two blackbirds bathing. The servants had told her that her sister had ensnared a handsome wealthy young man, but they hadn’t mentioned he was under a magic spell. She’d watched him from behind a hedge until the need to see him close up dragged her out of hiding. His dark eyes, brimming with amusement, had transfixed her as he politely doffed his hat and bowed as if she were an elegant lady instead of a plump twelve year old girl. He knew she’d been watching him. She’d wanted to ask him if he was a changeling, but was afraid that if he had to admit he was a swan he’d fly away never to be seen again.
In the end he had flown away, his face as pale as death. That last visit had been to confront her parents and demand an explanation as to why they’d allowed their seventeen year old daughter to publicly jilt him only days before the wedding without even the courtesy of a note. She’d watched him leave her father’s study, his beautiful calm façade twisted with fury. The whole house knew why precious Rosamund had changed her mind. Mr Philips was in line to inherit a Dukedom and Rosamund longed to be a Duchess, even if it meant being married to a drunk with a large red nose and bleary eyes that rarely focused on anything other than a bottle. Lily could still feel the pain of watching Mr Bowen ride away without any hope of seeing him again.
Lily snatched a glance at her brother-in-law silently wolfing down his food. The man still thought Lily’s name was ‘Girl’. At their first meeting Mr Bowen had politely asked for her name and then never forgotten it. Those dark eyes still knew her name even if he greeted her as Miss Leigh. The thought of her name imprinted on his mind caused a shiver of delight, but nothing could compare with the rapture of Mr Bowen seeking her out in the cold corner of the drawing room and kissing her hand before taking his leave. Of course he was just being kind; his dark bluish-brown eyes had to be the kindest in the world. They never looked through her as if she were invisible or sneered contempt at her plain clothing. He acknowledged her with respect as if knew that under her orange frizzy hair and fat face she too was a beautiful swan under a cruel spell.
The mind holding her name was hidden behind a mask of politeness. It was impossible to tell what Mr Bowen was feeling; intense ennui, amusement or anger. If she hadn’t known the man had once been in love with her sister she’d have laughed at the suggestion. He sat relaxed, physically indifferent to Rosamund’s nearness. Lily’s eyes swerved to avoid her sister as she glanced again at the man tipping his wine glass towards his lips. What would it feel like to be that glass; to feel his lips…? Her heart nearly stopped as the man’s eyes swivelled over the edge of the glass in her direction meeting her stare. Jolted by pleasure and fear, Lily bowed her head over her plate and pretended to be engrossed in her food. If Rosamund thought she was casting her eyes at the man, the hounds of hell would be unleashed.
Mrs Rosamund Philips dabbed her painted lips with her napkin and lowered the white cloth to reveal a practiced smile that left her eyes cold and calculating. “I have great news Mr Bowen.” Uncle and nephew turned their attention to the fading Beauty. Her strawberry blonde hair was twisted and braided into an exaggerated Grecian knot while her powdered charms threatened to burst from her low cut bodice. “This morning I received a reply from The Prince Regent’s secretary. His Royal Majesty has condescended to send a representative to Grace and William’s wedding…” Grace, who’d known since breakfast, clapped her hands and fluttered her eyes at her intended groom who was staring in surprise at his uncle. “Everything is arranged; the cake is being iced, the champagne has been purchased, the glasses are hired. In two weeks they’ll be married in St George’s and my darling Grace will look like an angel.”
Grace moaned with rapture, “Helen’s going to die of envy…”
The elder Mr Bowen carefully set down his glass. “Mrs Philips, if your daughter has her heart set on marrying in two weeks, I’m afraid she’ll have to find an alternative groom. It won’t be my nephew.” The dark eyes staring at her sister had been cast from steel and enamelled with colour.
“But I’ve sent out the invitations; the wedding must take place. There isn’t time to cancel and the young people desire to wed. It would be a sin to keep eager young lovers apart for so long…accidents will happen.”
Glancing to her right Lily could see the younger Mr Bowen turn beet red as his shoulders stiffened in outrage. “My nephew is a man of propriety; your daughter is quite safe Madam.”
Rosamund’s effort to smile, twisted into a grimace. “William inherits a fortune in two years. You need only advance him five thousand pounds and let them marry. Grace saw a pretty little property…”
“William’s money is in a trust until he comes of age and his properties are rented until his twenty-first birthday. I’m not going to give him five thousand pounds in the hope he’ll repay my generosity nor will I have some other man’s wife living in my house. If he chooses to elope he’ll live off his in-laws or starve in the gutter. He’s known this since he was sixteen and if you try to force him into accepting an elopement against his better judgement I shall remove my nephew to the continent for an extended tour.”
Grace paled as she struggled to hide her growing fury. “Mamma…you promised…”
“Hush Dearest! Mr Bowen, let’s set aside the past and do what’s best for the young people. Waiting two years is simply unacceptable. I promised my daughter she’d become a wife before her birthday. Surely you won’t force me to break a mother’s vow?”
“I explained there would be a two year engagement Mrs Philips. I will not give my permission.”
“Oh Mamma!” Grace Philips sobbed as if she’d been condemned to hang by the neck ‘til dead. “I want to be married before Helen…you promised.”
“Mr Bowen, how can you sit there with a stony face while my daughter’s broken heart drips into her dinner? Do you think I’ve schemed and connived this wedding for me? Do you think I want to admit I’m nearly old enough to be a grandmother? My darling has her heart set on a becoming a wife before her next birthday; don’t punish her because I didn’t marry you eighteen years ago. If she was your daughter, would you sit there demanding she wait to be the last of her frien
ds to marry? Would you deny her the small happiness of being first to the altar?” Lily stared in horror at the Welshman as he looked at her sister with a blank expression. What was he thinking? Was he angry? Was he relieved? Was he remembering that her sister had jilted him after professing undying love? The weak selfish part of her hoped he’d allow the marriage, while the kind part screamed for him to withstand Rosamund’s machinations if only to save William from her niece.
“If your seventeen year old daughter thinks marriage is akin to a sack race she isn’t mature enough to become a wife let alone a mother. Perhaps in two years…”
Lily’s spine seemed to shrink as her sister’s cold eyes cudgelled her from across the table. “Lily! Grace is upset. Help her to her room and stay with her.” As her sister’s unpaid companion, Lily had to obey. Her parents had left everything to Rosamund. There had only been enough love or money for the eldest daughter. She could feel Mr Bowen watching as she struggled to push back her chair and then lift her weight onto her feet. They were all watching. Her nephews seated across from her sneered in disgust as they both loudly whispered they’d rather die than marry a fat woman. She didn’t have to look at her sister to know the beauty was glaring at her.
Lily tried not to think of the coming storm as she paused to propel the sobbing Grace to her feet. Glancing across the table she found Mr Bowen watching her with that unreadable expression. Blushing, she hurried the young harridan away before the temper tantrum’s second phase began. By the time she reached her niece’s chamber, the girl’s red face was turning white. There was only time to drag her inside and lock the door before red cheeks turned blue and then after gasping for air the spoiled Grace, her pretty features contorted with rage, opened her lungs and rent the air with piercing screams. Lily stood with her back against the door and tried to shield herself with her arms as Grace clawed at her face screaming unintelligible curses on Mr Bowen.
The young woman finally crumpled in exhaustion and sobbed into the floor, “Helen’s going to marry Lord Langford on Valentines Day in a church wedding…I hate her. I’ll have to marry William over an anvil…I hate anvils and I hate Mother. She promised I’d be a wife in two weeks that lying cow.” Attempting to talk sense into her niece would only refuel the fire; Lily remained silent. “Helen won’t beat me to the marriage bed…I’m a thousand times more beautiful. I should be the first to wed and I will. I’ll seduce William then that hateful Welsh pig will have to let us wed. I’ll show him.” Lily could hear her sister pacing the corridor outside waiting for silence to tell her it would be safe to enter. After another half hour Grace was stretched out snoring into the floorboards. Lily reluctantly unlocked the door. Putting off the inevitable would only make it more painful.
Small dainty leather soled shoes tapped into the room. “How many times have I told you not to let her fall asleep on the floor like a dog?” The loud snores of Rosamund’s precious favourite almost made Lily smile. Not wishing to wake her daughter, Rosamund pushed her sister out of the room and quietly closed the door. “What do you have to say for yourself? I graciously allowed you to share my family table for the most important dinner of Grace’s life and you ruined everything with your disgusting conduct. Did you think making eyes at Mr Bowen would win his heart? The man doesn’t fancy frizzy orange haired heifers; if he did he wouldn’t have fallen in love with me. I could have had him with a snap of the fingers, but I didn’t want him. Is that why you’ve ruined all my plans; your childhood fancy likes beautiful women like me, not fat ugly lumps like you?”
“I wasn’t making eyes…”
“You were staring at the man like a love-sick cow. It’s no wonder the man refused to allow his nephew to marry Grace. Enduring your stares must have made him ill.”
“I only looked at him a couple times…he’s so handsome, I couldn’t help it.”
“Are you saying you don’t ogle my husband because he’s ugly?”
Feeling hell’s breath on her plump cheeks, Lily’s eyes filled with tears. “Mr Philips is my brother…”
“Is this how you repay my generosity? You ruin Grace’s hopes of happiness and insult my husband?”
“Rosamund, you know I’d never…”
“You cost me a fortune in food and this is what I get for my kindness; you destroy Grace’s dreams out of jealousy and insult the father of my children?”
“No!”
“My darling girl will hate me forever if I can’t force that Welsh leek to give his consent and it’ll be your fault…you fat ugly cow.” Lily instinctively tried to turn to run, but lost her footing as her sister pounced on her, punching and clawing her from behind. Ten minutes later Lily was conscious of her sister’s hands in her hair, her head being slammed repeatedly against the floor and then sweet oblivion.
Chapter 2
Penryth took his pipe out of his mouth and glanced up as the bracket clock struck the twenty-third hour of the day. Exhaling a cloud of tobacco smoke, his eyes refocused on the flames in the grate as he settled deeper in his chair. His red silk dressing gown gaped over his thighs exposing his nightshirt and naked hairy legs propped up on the fender. He could hear someone knocking on the front door. It was probably William returning from another card party or dance attended by his beloved Grace. The boy couldn’t see past the girl’s lovely face and delicate curves and there was no point trying to disillusion him. Penryth himself hadn’t believed unkind reports about Rosamund Leigh until he’d read in the paper that his fiancé had married Mr Philips, the great nephew and heir to the Duke of Carlisle by special license. She could only have married the silent fat-bellied drunk for his prospective title; it wasn’t for his conversation or his looks.
On hearing the ninety-three year old Duke of Carlisle had married his nurse and begot a son Penryth had sent the Duke his compliments along with a Lordly teething toy. Mrs Philip’s hope of becoming a Duchess was fading along with her beauty. There was no point wishing his nephew had fallen in love with some other woman’s daughter. William was in love with Grace Philips and unless she jilted him for an aging cad with a title the two families would be joined forever in a union sure to prove unhappy. Two years stretched out like a desert that had to be crossed on foot. Until William married the girl, Penryth would have to accompany William into that hellish pit at least once a week. He could only hope he’d always find an excuse not to attend another family dinner. As if being trapped for two hours next to Rosamund wasn’t hellish enough, the house had an unpleasant atmosphere as if the walls had become saturated with the noxious personalities living within them. That dining room deep in shadows had made him feel momentarily transported to Hades. He shivered as he remembered icy chills running over his scalp as empty dark corners seemed to writhe with movement. He could easily believe that the Philips’ house was haunted, if not by the dead then by the living.
He sucked on his pipe and exhaled another lung full of smoke as he remembered being watched by the sad creature with orange frizzy hair. Lily Leigh had been a pretty girl who’d always greeted him with an adoring shy smile, her eyes lighting up with pleasure at his smallest kindness. It was difficult to imagine the fat adult cheeks pinching into a smile. Her brown eyes looked as if all happiness had been scoured from her soul. She was clearly in need of deliverance, but he didn’t have any positions open that might suit her upbringing and even if he did, making her his servant meant she’d be a part of his life. Those eyes cut from autumn leaves would worship him and he’d soon give in to a growing urge to make her smile. No, he couldn’t hire her; if he made her smile he’d have to touch her. If he touched her she’d end up in his arms and then he’d end up proving himself a cad. That left marriage, but marriage was too large to be an act of kindness and he didn’t want a wife. A wife meant children and children meant expense and worry. In two years his nephew would be legally independent and he’d be free once again. As if to mock his resolve to die a bachelor his mind conjured up a pleasant image of the plump woman lying in his arms with that shy gra
teful smile; her naked skin draped with an abundance of orange hair. The thought caused the strange warmth in his chest to simmer his blood to a pleasurable boil. Lily was one of those rare souls who’d be grateful for everything; she’d never take his slightest kindness for granted. She’d be an exceedingly pleasant companion… A knock on the door pulled his thoughts out of the fire. “Yes?”
The door opened and closed. “Master Bowen, there’s a lady who wishes to speak with you about a private matter. I’ve told her you’re indisposed, but she’s sat down and refuses to leave until she’s seen you. I’d put her out the door, but she’s too heavy to move. She says her name is Lily…that you’ll know who she is. Do you wish to receive her?”
Penryth inhaled a lungful of sweet tobacco as his lips curled in a cynical smile. He’d wager his fortune poor Lily was on an errand for her scheming sister. “Bring her up.” Penryth listened to his servant return with an extra pair of footsteps. Taking his feet off the fender Penryth stood making sure his robe covered his nightshirt as the servant knocked. “Come.” With his back to the fire he watched the deeply hooded woman cautiously inch into the room as if she was expecting to be ravished. “Close the door Jones. Do you wish to sit Miss Leigh?” The hooded cloak inched further into the room, but stayed in the shadows. The faceless cloak seemed to forget her mission as she looked around the room and then finally in the direction of the owner.
