by Cari Hislop
William crossed his arms and seethed in futile rage. His Uncle could marry Grace’s fat ugly penniless Aunt, but he was expected to stand by while his beloved Grace was ruined. Well he wouldn’t stand by. He’d marry her over an anvil. He was a man; he’d do what he had to do. As he was about to forfeit his allowances; he’d share his opinion of his Aunt Lily and be damned. “Why haven’t you informed Carmarthen? Are you afraid he’ll dislike your choice of bride?”
His uncle’s eyes narrowed in a threatening look. “I don’t care what anyone thinks.”
William defiantly stared into his Uncle’s angry eyes. “You should care what your family thinks. There’s only the two of us left and we have to share your shame. Your wife wouldn’t grace a butcher’s table. She sits hunched over her plate as if someone might snatch away her food; no one would mistake her for a countess. I don’t think I’ve yet seen her with her head held upright. I hope you won’t be taking her into society; you’ll both end up the main entertainment. As for that orange knitting wool on her head she calls hair; if she wasn’t using it to hide her face she could cut it off and knit socks for the poor. And how can you bear to see her wandering around the house in that old dressing gown? It’s obscene…anyone with eyes can’t help but stare at her breasts bursting out of those night gowns you bought her which were made for a woman, not an elephant. Unless she dies from eating too much cake she’ll be the next Countess of Carmarthen, and bring our family nothing, but shame.”
“By my reckoning you’ve just lost nine months allowance.”
“What allowance? I have an appointment with an anvil. Grace needs me and I won’t let her down.”
“Don’t be a fool boy; she set you up.”
“I’m not the one who was set up. You’re the one who married a woman who fell down the stairs and then persuaded you she needed rescuing from her brother-in-law.”
“She didn’t fall down the stairs. Your beloved Grace pummeled her black and blue in a fit of rage and then Rosamund took her turn. Marry that brat if you will, but don’t be surprised when she attacks you and claws out one of your eyes.”
“I can’t believe you’d even think that, let alone say it.”
“I can’t believe you’re blind to the fact she’s wearing a pretty mask.”
William clenched his fists, tempted to strike his beloved Uncle. “You’re just jealous Grace didn’t want you because you’re old. You married that ugly orange thing because you knew Grace wanted to be a Countess…didn’t you? You married that elephant so Grace would have to resign herself to being Mrs Bowen.”
“Boy…” William hated being addressed as boy. It meant the older man was about to lecture him as if he were still wearing nursery skirts. “…if that child had set her cap at me I’d have bought passage on the first ship to anywhere.” William unconsciously leaned back as his uncle leaned towards him. “Insult my wife again and I’ll put you in bed for a month.”
“You insulted my beloved first.”
William waited like a coiled spring ready to defend himself. His uncle looked him in the eyes and then grimaced. “If I did, forgive me…I feel like hell. Go put your hat back on. I’ll talk some sense into Mrs Philips or die trying.” William slapped his uncle on the back and ran from the room relieved to know he wouldn’t have to face his unpleasant fate on his own. He paused at the open door of the next room and peered in. His Aunt Lily was still lying face down on the bed. He hoped she hadn’t heard his unkind words. The thought made him blush with mortification. He wasn’t the only one having a bad day. Feeling miserable he went to find his hat silently lecturing himself on his latest failure to be a gentleman.
Chapter 12
Penryth stood staring into space silently cursing love. Because of love he’d have to return to that frightful house with William and face Rosamund. But for love William might have noticed that the sublime looking Grace was really a harpy. Because Lily didn’t love him she’d probably never forgive him and he’d die a miserable wretch. He couldn’t hear any sounds coming from the next room. She was probably in need of more laudanum. Knowing his kindness would probably be rejected, he prepared a glass of water with enough drops of opiate to ease the pain and allow her to sleep. He set it next to his bed and after pulling on his outerwear he picked up his chamber key and walked back to her bed. She was still lying there face down. A servant had built a fire, but the room was still cold. “I’ve prepared you a dose of laudanum.” Her head moved on the bed. She was awake and hating him. The thought caused a horrible pinching pain. “It’s beside my bed.” Did she just groan in horror? “You’ll sleep in my room until the carpenter fixes your door. It’s warm and the door locks. I have to leave; William needs my help. Rosamund’s latest scheme to entrap him is quite devilish.” She didn’t move. “Up, up, up or I won’t give you the key.” Avoiding his eyes she struggled to her feet and held out her hand. Sighing he put the key in her palm and watched her limp from the room without a word. He flinched as his door was slammed and locked. At least she’d be hating him with her lips pressed into his pillow.
…
Music and laughter spilled out of the Philips’ drawing room, but it couldn’t mask the oppressive gloom hovering over the house. Penryth shivered as shadows flickered in the corner of his eyes. He could believe the devil himself was in residence. The footman announced them and his legs carried him forward into the well of light, but their arrival went unnoticed. Grace was playing a cheerful tune on the pianoforte; the Earl of Morley whispering in her ear as he turned her pages. Her laughter had the loud forced sound of a young woman desperate to be the center of attention. Rosamund was having a tête-à-tête with a young man enthralled with her overripe charms. Mr Philips was asleep by the fire with a half filled glass in his hands while his two eldest sons were playing a game of chess. He could easily imagine his nephew’s feelings as the young man marched across the room and stopped beside his fiancé, scowling at her companion. The Earl of Morley was a dangerous man, but love made truth irrelevant. Penryth strolled over to the fire and lit his pipe knowing it would irritate his hostess. Rosamund’s look of hate was quickly camouflaged with a fake smile. “Mr Bowen…I wondered if you’d have the nerve to enter my house after stealing away my sister without even inviting us to the wedding.”
“The Welsh have an endless supply of nerve.”
“Perhaps you’ll invite us over for supper and allow us to congratulate our Lily on her hurried nuptials.” She turned to her young admirer, “Mr Bowen keeps my sister locked in her room. I think he’s afraid she might change her mind.”
“If Mrs Bowen wishes to remain in bed at all hours, I’m hardly going to complain. I should have married her years ago. With a companion so sweet and pleasing, how could I not be content?”
Grace suddenly noticed her fiancé standing beside her. Music and laughter abruptly ended as if William was an ill omen. “How long have you been standing there?”
“At least five minutes.”
Grace looked affronted. “Morley? Has Mr Bowen been standing next to me for five minutes?”
“He hasn’t been there five seconds Madam; I think the boy is trying to make you feel guilty for enjoying my company.”
Seeing William flush dark red and clench his fists, Penryth headed for the piano to keep his nephew from dying in a duel. He put a firm hand on William’s shoulder. “What brings you up to town this time of year Morley? I’d have thought you’d be in the countryside killing foxes, pheasants or poaching peasants. We all know how much you enjoy killing things.”
“I’m in the mood for prettier game.” The man winked at Grace winning a trill of laughter. “What are you still doing in London? I’d have thought you’d have galloped back to Wales to sample your native haut cuisine, ragout of Welsh mutton.”
“William desired to remain in London near his fiancé. How could I deny him?”
Grace appeared unhappy to be reminded she was engaged. “If Mr Bowen had cooled his heels in Wales I wouldn’t be comp
romised.”
William blushed in horror at her loud words. “You begged me to stay in town!”
“Did I? I don’t remember.” Flicking her hair at Morley she sorted through her music for a new song.
“I love you. I’d never injure you…”
Morley’s lips twisted in suppressed amusement. “You nearly injured her this morning. A woman’s virtue is as brittle and irreplaceable as her reputation.”
“Grace we can wed within a week. I’ll rent a carriage. We’ll go to Scotland…”
The young woman’s hands banged on the keyboard demanding the room’s attention, “I hate Scotland! I want a church wedding. Mother…”
“Hush Dearest; no one expects you to marry Mr Bowen over an anvil.”
William touched his beloved on the arm earning a scowl. “Goosey-girl, we have to wed!”
“Do we? Morley, would you say I have to wed Mr Bowen?”
“With your beauty and graceful charms, I’d wager you could ensnare a Duke.”
“Dukes are boring; I’d rather marry an Earl.”
Morley smiled across the piano. “Your beau doesn’t appear very pleased with your declaration. Heaven knows it’s unlikely he’ll be an Earl now that his Uncle has married your Aunt. That was an interesting choice of wife for a man who’s sworn for years he’d rather hang than wed. I wonder what induced him. Perhaps the elder Mr Bowen envies his nephew’s youthfulness and fiancée and foiled your dreams out of envy.”
Grace turned a contemptuous glance at the elder Mr Bowen. “As if he’d ever be so lucky to win me.”
Penryth’s desire to smash his fist in Morley’s face was restrained to a tightening of his lips. “My wife is a pleasing companion. I wouldn’t exchange her for any silly nubile debutante. If a man thinks a happy life is based on a wife with a large dowry and slim figure he’s bound to be miserable after he’s gambled her fortune and made her fat through incessant breeding.”
Morley leaned over and whispered loudly into Grace’s ear, “He must like plain ladies with large bottoms. Perhaps it’s a Welsh trait. I hope your beau doesn’t plan to fatten you up; you have such a pretty derrière.”
Grace smirked with pleasure she battered her eyes at Morley ignoring William audibly choking on his fury. “My Lord, you shouldn’t say such things…unless you’re intending to make an offer.”
William exploded, slamming a hand on the nearest keys ensuring he had Grace’s attention. “Stop making eyes at Morley; you’re engaged to marry me. I came to tell you I’d marry you in a week. That’s what you wanted this morning.”
“Take your hand off my pianoforte Mr Bowen. You’re ruining my song.”
“To hell with the song; you said you loved me. How can you love me and make eyes at him? You’re acting like a heartless coquette.”
Grace slammed both hands onto the keys and jumped up knocking over her stool forcing Rosamund to hurry over to the pianoforte. The young woman’s lovely face was red with rage as her mother took her arm. “Dearest, you played that song so beautifully. Perhaps you’ll treat Lord Morley…”
“Mr Bowen says I’m a heartless coquette.”
Rosamund glared at William before putting an arm around her daughter. “Dearest, you know he’s just jealous of Lord Morley…you’re the sweetest dearest girl.”
“I’m not jealous of Morley. I’m the one Grace loves; at least I was this morning.”
Grace’s eyes filled with tears. “How can I love a man who refuses me a church wedding? I can’t elope Mamma; I’ll die of shame. Harriet will crow that her wedding was perfect and what will I be able to say? I got a headache from the sound of the smithy’s hammer striking the anvil? That isn’t romantic, it’s common.”
“Dearest, you shall have the grandest church wedding ever devised.”
“I wouldn’t deny you…” William tried to caress his beloved and had his hand slapped away. “…we can travel up to Scotland with your family and have a church wedding.”
“Why would I want a church wedding in Scotland? No one of consequence would attend. I want to be married in London. Mamma…you promised!”
Rosamund turned an evil eye on Penryth. “I think it’s time you gave your permission Mr Bowen, don’t you?”
“I don’t remember your daughter mentioning these silly conditions when we completed the legal paper work for her dowry; an interesting piece of legal work. I don’t remember reading where exactly her money is being held or by whom. If she’s so wealthy and the young people wish to wed why don’t they live off your daughter’s money?”
“It’s invested in bonds until she’s twenty-five.”
“Does Morley know your dearest daughter’s inheritance has been badly invested?”
“Her dowry is perfectly safe.”
“Is it? Who did you lend it to? I’ll give my head for breaking they promised you a return for the money too good to be true.”
“Mr Bowen you are insulting. How does my sister endure you at the dinner table let alone in her bed?”
The flames of hell raged in his chest at the thought of never being allowed to share Lily’s bed. “You’ll have to ask her. In the mean time if your daughter wishes to marry William immediately she’ll require a ceremony in Scotland and a desire to share her bedchamber and dress allowance with her husband for two years. I won’t give my permission, but I’m sure she’ll be happy with William.” Penryth glanced across at Morley. “She won’t find a better man the Kingdom.”
“Share my dress allowance? I’m not sharing my dress allowance with anyone. Do you expect me to look like a pauper?”
“Grace, you said you loved me. Would you want me to be seen in rags?”
“I wouldn’t want anyone to see you. I’d be too embarrassed to admit my husband couldn’t afford to keep me let alone buy himself a new hat. You’d have to stay in the attic.”
“Attic? I’m not marrying you to sleep in the attic. I’ll sleep with my wife or be hanged.”
“Sleep with the dog; you’re not sharing my bed. Why should my father pay to keep your brat?”
Penryth could feel his nephew trembling. He looked at the boy’s profile and grimaced in empathy. Love’s blindness was painfully dimming. “But you knew the conditions…you said you’d do anything to marry me.”
“I don’t remember saying anything so stupid. How dare you put words in my mouth? You make me sound like a desperate ninny…”
Morley picked up Grace’s hand and pulled it to his lips instantly winning a hopeful smile. “Miss Grace, don’t throw yourself away on this boorish boy I beg you. I know a better man who’d give anything to make you his wife and he wouldn’t have to wait two years to buy you all the pretty expensive things a beautiful young wife deserves.”
“And who is this perfect man my Lord?”
“Grace!” William slapped the keyboard earning a scowl from his beloved. “Tell me you love me or tell me to go. I refuse to stand here and watch that rakehell make love to you.”
The young woman pursed her lips as if contemplating her choices. “If your uncle sends Aunt Lily home and gives his permission along with a promise of a generous allowance from your capital I’ll love you forever.”
“What? You can’t put conditions on love. You either love me or you don’t and what the devil does your Aunt Lily have to do with us?”
“Mamma says if Aunt Lily comes home I can have her as a wedding present.”
Penryth’s mask cracked revealing disgust. “Do you think your mother’s sister is a slave to be given away like a bed? I wouldn’t allow my wife to return to this hell-mouth if she begged me. There will be no persuading me in either case.”
“Well Mr Bowen, you can’t want to marry me very badly. If you loved me, you’d find a way to persuade your Uncle.”
“How can you judge my love for you on whether someone else does something? How would you feel if I said I could only love you if you could persuade your mother to stand on her head right now? Uncle Penryth wouldn’t change his
mind if he was dangled upside down over a cliff; how can you hold that against me?”
