A Companion for Life (22 page)

“Made of stone.” Grace picked up her plate
and hurled it across the table and missed her sneering target by a
safe ten inches.”

“Missed me! Perhaps if you came a little
closer you’d hit the target?”

A blood curdling scream of rage made Penryth
wince in pain as Grace crawled over the table to claw out William’s
eyes dragging the table cloth, silver candle sticks and various
nearby dishes along with her. “Goodman, catch the candlesticks so
we don’t all burn to death. Jones, put these two ingrates in the
garden and beware the young lady’s fingernails and teeth. If
they’re still trying to kill each other after an hour leave them
out there until they’re cold enough to be civil. They’ll both be
eating porridge for a week.” Penryth watched the screaming
she-devil dragged out of the dining room tucked under Jones’ left
arm, William followed closely behind sneering insults, egging on
her rage. Penryth sighed with relief as the irritating noise
abruptly ended as the back door to the garden was slammed shut and
bolted. He glanced down the table that now looked like the scene of
a drunken revel to his wife. She stared back at him as if he’d just
ordered his nephew’s execution. “He’ll survive. If the rude toad
ends up with a few scratches and teeth marks it won’t be more than
he deserves. After Miss Grace receives a slap from Mrs Jones and a
lash or two from Mr Jones she’ll think twice about losing her
temper. Don’t look at me like I’m a fiend. Shall I let her carry on
raging until she kills someone? She pushed her mother down the
stairs and tried to strangle me. If she kills in a rage she’ll be
hung and then William will die of a broken heart. I’ve buried too
many family members to lose one more, even if he is an idiot.”

“But Grace said you told her William never
loved her.”

“I lied.”

“Why?”

“Because as William would tell you, I’m an
interfering old fart; as we say in Wales, ‘Wrth gicio a brathu, mae
cariad yn magu.’ Whilst kicking and biting, love develops. With
luck William will carry the she-devil away on his twenty-first
birthday.”

“Love doesn’t always develop out of kicking
and biting.”

Penryth flushed red as his secret threatened
to burst his heart and roll down the table. “True Cariadon,
sometimes love grows out of autumn leaves.”

Her face scrunched in confusion. “Autumn
leaves?”

“I’ll explain this evening after I give my
confession in English.”

“Why can’t you tell me now?”

“Because…my confession won’t take long and I
might need something else to talk about…to keep you in my room.” He
winked at her over the rim of his glass and gulped down a laugh. “I
enjoyed your kiss Mrs Bowen; I swear you gave me gooseflesh. It
brings to mind the Psalm, ‘Thy tongue deviseth mischief…’ He
laughed as her pale face turned a dark pink.”

“You’re being very wicked Mr Bowen.”

“Mrs Bowen I’ve never been this good in my
entire life. I’m having dinner with my own wife and counting the
endless minutes until I can politely persuade her to join me in my
room for a piece of cake. How can that possibly be wicked?”

“You’re teasing me.”

“
True
; you look dashed pretty when you blush.” He winked as she
glanced up from her plate with obliging pink cheeks. A pleasant
hush fell over the house as she returned his stare causing his
blood to waltz through his veins. Contentment threatened to
overflow and drown him in happiness. Humming an old love song, he
settled into a growing pile of falling leaves.

Outside in the garden, the late afternoon
was sharp with an easterly wind that turned the wet grass into
green icy knives. William stood with his arms folded tightly across
his chest oblivious to the blood trickling from the scratches on
his cheek as he watched his beloved sobbing face down on the
ground. He could feel his left eye swelling where she’d hit him
before his self-defensive slap had knocked her off her feet. “Are
you finished acting like a she-devil?”

“I hate you!”

“
Is that your idea of irony?”

“
No—
one loves me!”

“
I wonder why. Do you love anyone?” There
was an eternal pause and then sobbing resumed. “I didn’t think so.”
He sighed in secret disappointment and took his handkerchief out of
pocket and wiped the unpleasant wetness off his face. “You’re going
to catch a chill lying in the wet.”

“Good! I’ll die and then I won’t ever have to
see you again.”

“
Ei! You’ll die and no one will miss you or
your tantrums.” He took out his watch. “Forty minutes before we’re
allowed back inside. Uncle is always cursed exact in his promised
punishments. We’ll both be eating porridge for a week; I hate
porridge.” He walked away towards the house and stopped a foot from
the door and crossed his arms. Ten minutes later he heard movement
behind him. He sighed in relief she was off the cold ground, but
continued to ignore her. The grass crunched with her quiet steps
in-between loud sniffs until she stopped at his side.

“I’m cold.”

“If you were hot I’d think you ill.”

“May I have your coat?”

“No, I need it.”

“You call yourself a gentleman?”

“You call yourself a lady?” He stared at the
door as she inched up next to him and furtively tucked her hands
under his waistcoat for warmth as if he wouldn’t notice two slender
hands pressed against his stomach.

“Do you hate me?”

Her worried tone dragged his eyes to her
face. She had a red hand mark on her left cheek. Tears shimmered on
her lashes like melted diamonds and snot dripped from her nose as
she stared up at him like a lost puppy. He took out his
handkerchief and wiped the tears from her eyes and then held the
bloody rag over her nose. “Blow!” He threw the handkerchief onto
the ground and wiped his hand on his trousers. “No, I don’t hate
you.”

She heaved a loud despairing sigh. “I wish
you loved me.”

He ignored his aching heart. “Why?”

“
If you loved me, someone would miss me if
I died. No one will ever put flowers on my grave. No one will miss
me; I’ll lie there all dead and lonely in this ugly dress with wine
stains on the bodice.”

William coughed back a laugh. “Yes, that
would be uncomfortable, being dead in a dirty dress.” A pleasant
silence settled over the two as they unconsciously huddled. After
twenty minutes William glanced at the young woman and found her
staring up at him with an expression of despair that melted any
residual anger. “Why don’t we forgive each other and start over?
Shall we forget the past and be friends? If we were friends I’d be
sure to miss you if you died.”

She inched around until she was standing in
front of him, her hands still tucked under his waistcoat. “Really?
You’d miss me? You’d put flowers on my grave and think of me?”

“
Of course and I wouldn’t let them bury you
in a dirty dress. I’d borrow the money and order a dress in blue
silk. That’s what friends do, but hopefully you’ll live to be one
of those fat old ladies with white hair. If we both live to old age
we can meet up occasionally in the park and make loud farting
noises as courting couples walk by.”

Big blue eyes stared up at him, tangling
his heartstrings into an eternal knot. “No one sane will want to
marry me; will you let me live with you when I’m old and Aunt
Lily’s children tire of feeding me?”

“I’ll always have room for a friend.”

“Even if your wife hates me?”

“
Don’t go finding me a wife; friends don’t
marry each other off.” He pulled his watch out of his pocket.
“Eight more minutes…” William deeply exhaled as he tried to pretend
he wasn’t affected by her touch. She’d probably marry the first
titled fool who waved a jasmine scented handkerchief at her. He’d
be the one to die old and lonely.

“I’m sorry I scratched your face, and hit you
in the eye, and kicked you and tried to bite you.”

“It’s the past. We’re friends now. Friends
forget stupid mistakes.”

“William, would you hold me…as a friend?”

He wrapped his arms around her and held
her close. “I’m sorry I said those hateful things at the table. I
didn’t mean most of them.” William scowled as the sound of a bolt
being drawn ended the most heavenly five minutes of his life. The
door swung open and Jones stood there with an unhappy expression.
“What’s the matter man? You look like someone tried to push Mrs
Jones into the kitchen fire.”

“
Miss Philips will have to come with me. Mr
Bowen wishes her to be punished immediately for losing her
temper.”

Big blue eyes filled with tears of fear as
they swiveled back to William’s face as if he could save her.
“Jones, she’s a
young
lady! You can’t really mean to lash her backside.” Grace sobbed as
she clung to William for safety. “Look at her, she’s perfectly calm
and we’ve made up. I’m the one with the black eye and I don’t think
she should be punished. We’ve been an hour in the cold man. Isn’t
that punishment enough?”

“Mr Bowen ordered Miss Philips to be given
two slaps and two lashes before being sent to her room.”

“
But that’s cruel! Tell Uncle I wish to
speak with him, immediately.”

“
Master Bowen
is having a private
tête-à-tête
with Mrs Bowen in the sitting room. I
wouldn’t disturb them unless the house was on fire.”

“
Ugh, he’s kissing her again isn’t he…how
many times does he have to kiss her?”

“I told you he’s in love with her; you owe me
a guinea.”

“That’s where you’re wrong Jones. You owe
me!”

“I don’t think so. If you’ll come along
Miss…”

“
For pity sake Jones, look at her; she
already has a hand mark on her face where I slapped her. Can’t we
take her to the kitchen and just pretend to lash her; hit a sack of
flour or something? Uncle won’t know the difference if she stays in
her room for a week.”

“
I’d never lie to Master
Bowen.
”

“
Twt lol! Don’t play the virtuous servant
with me; we both know it’s a myth. I’m not afraid of irritating the
old fart; I’ll go demand Uncle Penryth see sense.”

“I don’t think disturbing the Master will aid
your cause.”

“You would say that; you’ve probably waited
all your life to whip an innocent girl.”

“
If I was inclined to whip innocent maidens
I’ve had plenty of opportunities to lash lazy maids. I don’t find
pleasure in hurting others. If you’ll come with me Miss we’ll get
this over with so you can go to your room and change. Master Bowen
sent Olive to the pawn shops to find you some clothes. Someone must
have died; she found a whole wardrobe that might have been made to
fit you.”

“I can’t wear some dead girl’s dresses; I’ll
die of shame.”

“Shame is the least of your worries Miss.
Come along, unless you want to be dragged to the kitchen. Mrs Jones
needs to get this over with so she can bake a pound cake.”

William held
the sobbing Grace tighter and glared at the man
who was determined to carry out his orders. “Where’s your heart
Jones? She’s just a girl.”

“I have my orders.”

“And if Uncle ordered you to jump in the
Thames?”

“He’d have good reason.”

William’s throat constricted at the thought
of the little body in his arms being lashed with a leather belt.
His uncle had clearly lost his mind. William’s normal state of
heightened self-interest was momentarily forgotten with the need to
protect his beloved. “I’ll take the blows for her; I’ll be her
whipping boy.”

Large wet blue eyes turned upward with hope.
“You will?”

“That’s what friends do Goosey-girl.”

“Oh William, you’re the best friend in the
whole world.”

Jones looked unmoved. “I’m afraid Master
Bowen insisted the young lady suffer her punishment. This way
Miss…”

…

Grace shivered as the warm air of the kitchen
shocked her chilled skin causing gooseflesh. She covered her cheeks
with her hands as her eyes whirled around the room catching on the
odd bright colour and shiny implement of torture. “Miss Grace…” Her
wandering eyes landed on Mrs Jones. Shivering with fear, Grace
turned her head to find William. He was a few feet behind her
looking pale and unhappy. “…Master Bowen warned you not to lose you
temper; that you’d be slapped for every slap and lashed for every
kick.” Grace felt her lips tremble she stared in terror at the
middle aged Welsh woman whose wiry grey hair was escaping either
side of her cap like a pair of horns. “He says you’ve earned two
slaps and two lashes. Do you understand why you’re being punished?
Answer me!”

Grace tried to order her jumbled thoughts.
There had to be something she could say to escape the nightmare.
“This has been the worst day of my life. This morning I buried my
Mamma who was ran over by the mail coach and then I arrived home to
find Papa had disowned me and pawned all my clothes.” Her sad tale
won no sympathy from Mrs Jones. “No one loves me…Mr Bowen wants me
to suffer because he hates me. Please don’t hit me. I’ll be good
forever.” Her attempt to engender pity merely caused the Welsh
woman to role her eyes.

“If he hated you child you’d be scrubbing
chamber pots for your room and board. Why are you being
punished?”

“Because I lost my temper, but William lost
his temper too. Why am I the only one being punished?”

“You’ll have to ask Mr Bowen. Take your hands
away from your face Miss.”

Grace hesitated as she stared at the
frightening woman, but the steely look in the woman’s eyes prompted
her to uncover her face and close her eyes. She would take her
punishment with her head held high. Grace heard two loud successive
slaps as her face caught fire and her neck ached from the blow.
“William!” He rushed to comfort her, but strange guttural sounds
abruptly ended his caress and sent him back against the
wall.