by Cari Hislop
Morley pulled a tiny green glass bottle out of his box and held it out. “Give the she-devil enough laudanum to sleep the journey home. Seven drops ought to save us both from further injury. At least she only kicked you, she bit me…”
“Good. Perhaps you’ll think twice about eloping with another innocent. If she were my daughter I’d kill you.”
“Oh dear…Mr Bowen the rescuer of penniless maidens doesn’t approve of my entertainments. Where’s your blood man? Look at the wench in your arms; you know my better judgment was overpowered by sweet temptations…she seduced me.” The rakehell’s lips curled into a sneer that almost resembled a smile.
Penryth raised an eyebrow. “Oh dear…those bites might end up infected. You might die a slow painful death. Perhaps if you drank the contents of that green bottle it would speed up the process.”
Morley made a show of replacing the bottle in the box with exaggerated affront. “You can’t help some people, but then the Welsh aren’t ruling an empire are they? What have you got? Slag heaps? Coal pits? Sheep? Mounds of dirt?”
“The Romans couldn’t beat us and neither will you.”
“What’s there to beat? A few sheep and the odd shepherd too drunk to remember which old woman he was courting with his wooden spoon? It’s no wonder you settled for a fat ugly penniless Anglo Saxon. She must seem a treat compared the trolls in your country.”
“My wife loves me. Unlike you, I’ll never have to question the paternity of my brats.” Penryth looked down to find Grace’s sobs had become snores. He ignored the rakehell’s deadly eyes and carried her to the room he’d hired for her mother and put her to bed. What was he going to do with Rosamund? He couldn’t travel back to London with a corpse on one side of the carriage and a hysterical she-devil on the other. He wanted to hire a horse and ride back to London, but his fresh aches and pains suggested that might not be a sensible idea even if he could avoid hungry highwaymen or freezing to death. Standing still he could see the worry behind Lily’s last smile. He couldn’t take any more stupid risks. The blood in his veins was rushing in circles demanding to be taken home and placed in Lily’s arms, but there were too many problems demanding immediate solutions. The first thing he had to do was view the body. He grimaced in horror and then forced himself to do his duty.
Chapter 23
Not a word had been spoken during the carriage ride back to London. On entering the city Penryth glanced at the girl hunched against the opposite window. She was staring at the floor, her eyes red and swollen from a continuous flow of tears that had erupted watching her mother’s crude wooden casket being lowered into the ground. He’d taken the decision to bury Rosamund in the nearest church yard. Penryth couldn’t imagine the drunken Mr Philips caring where his wife was buried and he wanted to ensure that Lily and the children couldn’t accidentally see Rosamund in that condition. Just thinking of it brought to mind the taste of sick.
The carriage pulled up outside the Philips house and Penryth climbed down to give his condolences to his brother-in-law, but the house was all wrong. The shutters were all open. There was no straw spread on the street outside the house to deaden the sound of traffic. The curtains were devoid of mourning black. Only a limp black ribbon on the door knocker indicated the family was grieving. The footman knocked, but after several long minutes there was no reply.
Cursing his luck Penryth tried himself; someone would hear. Someone would answer the door so he could unload his unwanted niece and rush home to his wife. He’d sent Lily a letter outlining the tragedy and his burial plans, but hadn’t received a reply. It couldn’t be four days since he’d kissed her goodbye; it had to be at least four years. He was so close; a few more streets and he’d be home. He might as well have been in India waiting to embark homeward wondering if his ship would reach England or sink in the depths of the sea; anything could happen in fifteen minutes. He vented the hunger of his starving heart on the door knocker. He couldn’t bear it. Someone had to come. It was cold; his heart was freezing.
At his elbow, Grace Philip’s teeth paused in their excessive chattering, “What is taking so long? I’m going to freeze to death!”
A hesitant hand unlatched the door and opened it an inch. “Yes?”
“Open the door before my nose freezes!”
A single masculine eye looked Miss Grace Philips up and down with distaste. “I can’t let you in.”
“Don’t be absurd Jameson, I live here.”
“Not any more. Mr Philips says his eldest daughter is dead.”
“I’m clearly alive; let me in!”
“I’m afraid you died in an accident with your mother.”
Penryth’s stomach dropped around his knees. He couldn’t be saddled with the graceless Miss Philips. “Open the door Man. I wish to speak to Mr Philips.”
“Mr Philips isn’t home.”
Grace stood there looking confused. “What about my things?”
“Mr Philips sent them to the pawn shop. I understand he spent the funds at his club drinking sweet sack to your memory.”
“I’m not dead.” The small words were choked with fear.
“You are to Mr Philips. Good day.”
The door closed with a rude bang. Penryth swore under his breath as he glanced down at the young beauty whose red swollen eyes stared at the door with sightless horror as if it had only just occurred to her she’d been disowned. “I’m not dead! Why is Papa doing this? All I did was elope…”
“The drunken wretch has seized a prime opportunity to get rid of a bastard she-devil. He knows I’ll take you home, even though I’d rather leave you here.” The hands on his pocket watch wouldn’t begin moving until the horses were in motion. “Get in. I want to go home. Hurry up!”
The girl stood there staring at him as if he’d asked her to lift her skirts. “But I haven’t any clothes…”
“You’re the one who tried to elope with a rakehell without even a clean chemise. Either get in the carriage or you’ll have to walk to my house; I’m leaving in ten seconds.” Grace regally climbed in and sat down sniffing away more tears. As soon as the carriage was in motion Penryth breathed a sigh of relief. Only a few more minutes and he’d be home. Thoughts of Lily drew his attention back to his niece. “As long as you remain under my roof you’ll act like a saint; do you understand?”
“How can you be so horrid? I’ve just lost my mother and all my clothes.”
“Don’t forget your reputation and virtue.”
“I didn’t lose my virtue!”
“That’s not what it looked like to me.”
“He said he was too tired to…you know. He said we could make you and Mamma go away by moaning really loudly though I don’t see what difference that would make. He said I had to untie my chemise before opening the door and let him touch me so I did. It didn’t matter because he said we’d be married soon…the lying old turd. What woman would want to marry him? He has more crow’s feet than Papa and he looks like any moment his skin is going to split open and reveal a slimy snake. I’d rather marry Lord Mulgrave and he looks like a rat.”
“Whatever didn’t happen you should start praying I can persuade some foolish idiot to marry you; I won’t have you ruining your Aunt Lily’s life under my roof.”
Her lips trembled as tears gushed from her eyes making him sigh in irritation. “Who’s going to love me? If I were your daughter would you tell me I’m beautiful?”
“Probably…”
Her wet eyes lit up. “Do you think I’m beautiful?”
“I’m your uncle. It doesn’t matter if you’re beautiful.”
“But now that Mamma is dead and I’m ruined who’s going to tell me I’m beautiful?”
“You’d do well to forget you’ve ever heard the word and concentrate on more meaningful adjectives like kind, generous, amiable, loving, sweet-tempered, etc…”
“But I want to be beautiful! Mamma says people only love you if you’re beautiful.”
“That isn’t true. Whe
n she was young your Mamma was very beautiful. Because she was beautiful I thought I loved her, but it wasn’t love. It was merely a desire to possess a lovely object. She was never kind, amiable or sweet-tempered. Do you want a husband who treats you like an object of value until your beauty fades or would you rather have a man who loves the real Grace Philips? Wouldn’t you rather be loved and valued for who you are rather than what you look like? If you can find a fool to love you, he’ll still think you beautiful even when you’re old and wrinkled with hair on your chin.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. How can someone be beautiful if they aren’t beautiful?”
“I think your Aunt Lily is the loveliest woman in the world; more lovely than you.”
“You think Aunt Lily is more beautiful than me?” Grace looked horrified as if he’d declared an intention to murder Princess Charlotte. “You need spectacles!”
“There’s nothing wrong with my eyes. She’s a pretty woman who’s lovely on the inside as well. She’s kind and she appreciates kindness…you’re a snot. You think kindness is your due, but it isn’t.”
Her lips trembled as tears gushed from her eyes. “William loves me!”
“I’m afraid not. He fell over and hit his head. He can’t remember falling in love with you or getting engaged. It’s just as well because he didn’t really love you. He merely wanted to possess a lovely object. It would have been a bad match.”
“How do you know what he felt, you hateful man?”
“If I’m so hateful why did I save your life after you kicked me and tried to claw out my eyes?”
“Because you hate me…you want me to suffer!”
“Your attitude makes you ugly Miss Philips.”
Heartbroken sobs wracked the slender girl. “I want my Mamma…”
“I want a peaceful house. You will control your temper; if you get angry you’ll walk in the garden until you’re in possession of your faculties or you’ll regret it. Pinch or slap anyone in my household and my housekeeper, Mrs Jones, will be instructed to return every pinch or slap. If you hit, kick or punch beware her husband Jones will be asked to belt your backside; one lash for every blow you deliver. As you do to others, it will be done to you. If you’re kind and helpful you will find me and my household the same. Mr Jones will not relish belting you, but he will do it. For your sake, I urge you not to lose your temper.”
“Hate you…”
“Good. I shall feel no remorse in ordering Jones to belt you for being a she-devil.”
As the carriage pulled up outside his house his ears were ringing with the sound of his niece sobbing. “I want my Aunt Lily!”
Acute longing rushed like an invisible wave through his internal organs make his mouth water as he swallowed a moan. He wanted Lily too. His heart was drumming his chest in delight as he climbed out of the carriage and hurried into the open door on weak knees. “Where’s my wife?”
“She’s in your sitting room…”
Penryth didn’t wait to remove his hat or coat. Clutching his chest he raced up the stairs vaguely aware of sobbing behind him. He opened the door and stepped into a cloud of warmth and peace. She was sitting on the green settee with a book in her hands. She stared up at him in surprise from underneath a new generous cap, the ivory silk ruffle framing her pretty face. His knees trembled as his heart threatened to burst from withholding its secret. “Mrs Bowen…” The words caught in his throat as the book in her hands was set aside as she stood up. “…you look well.” What was he saying? She was a dream come true. Her freckled cheeks were free of unsightly bruises, her brown eyes filled with relief. His tongue and limbs felt suddenly awkward as if he’d borrowed them from a better man in the hope of impressing her. “I’m sorry about your sister…”
“You’re safe…” Tears welled in her eyes. “…that’s what matters. I was so afraid…”
“Cariadon…” He held out his arms, his chest aching for her nearness. “…you don’t think I’d die before I could tell you that I…”
“Aunt Lily!” His heartfelt declaration was rudely interrupted as Grace pushed past him and flung herself against Lily, sobbing into the well padded shoulder. “I’ve been disowned!”
Chapter 24
Mr Bowen looked stunned as Grace’s arms wrapped around her like a living garter. She wasn’t the only one suffering disappointment; the beautiful swan with fresh scratches and bruises on his face clenched his fists and hissed in rage at the young woman obstructing his desire. Lily’s heart filled with warm air threatening to carry her away into the clouds; Mr Bowen was angry because he couldn’t hold her.
“Go cry somewhere else Baggage! I want my wife.”
Between loud sobs, Grace said, “Mr Bowen says he’s going to beat me. He hates me. He says I’m ugly.”
Lily watched her husband roll his eyes. “Mr Philips refuses to have anything to do with her and I don’t blame him, but he didn’t have to pawn the brat’s clothes. Now I’ll have to buy her a new wardrobe or she’ll stink up my house.”
“Am I invisible?” Grace spoke from Lily’s shoulder without moving her head. “I’ve been disowned…no one loves me…”
Lily rubbed her sobbing niece on the back. “That isn’t true…your friend Helen loves you.”
“Helen hates me. She borrowed my necklace and then lost it. She didn’t even offer to replace it. When I asked to borrow one of her hats she said her mother didn’t let her lend things because they never came back clean. No one loves me.”
Lily looked into frustrated dark eyes a few feet away and absently said, “That isn’t true.”
Grace assumed the fervent words were for her. “You think I’m beautiful?”
“You’re very beautiful.”
“Miss Philips mistakenly equates being thought beautiful to being loved.”
“Don’t call me that…I’m not a Philips.” Audible sobbing resumed with force. I’m Grace the bastard. No one will marry me. I’ll die an old maid.” Lilly eyed her niece in confusion and then looked at her husband for help.
“Don’t worry Miss Philips, I’m sure we can find you a groom, just don’t expect him to speak English. If you’re lucky we may even persuade Mr Grayson to give you away. Now if you’re done watering my wife I wish to have a turn being held in her arms.” Lily glanced up and blushed again with pleasure at the look in his eyes.
Grace ignored the command. “My whole life has been a lie; I don’t even know who I am. I hate Thomas Grayson.”
“He’s in an elite club. Cry about your spurious parentage somewhere else. I want my wife.”
“What is she talking about? Mr Grayson is…was Rosamund’s good friend. She even named her eldest son after him. He spends…spent a month or two every summer with the family. Mr Philips used to invite him personally.”
Mr Bowen removed his hat and tapped it against his leg before absently returning it to his head. “If you’d ever seen a group of Grayson girls you’d know it’s true. Rosamund confirmed it; Mr Philips was unable to have children. Hence the bastard son of a duke was considered a fit surrogate father for a possible future duke…”
“Uncle Penryth, what is she doing here?” The three looked toward the fire to see a bandaged head with sleepy eyes appearing around the wing of the arm chair. “You can’t let her stay here. She jilted me!”
“Do you expect me to freeze to death in the gutter? He’s my uncle too!”
“Only by marriage; he’s my father’s older brother. Go home and leave us in peace.”
“I don’t have a home! Papa disowned me and pawned all my clothes.”
