A Companion for Life (25 page)

“Have you been admiring my legs again Mrs
Bowen?” Lily flushed bright pink as he smirked in amusement.
“Perhaps I’ve been remiss in my duty to appease my wife’s natural
appetites.” He danced several feet away and while giving her a
lusty look he lifted the tails of his coat above his waist and
struck a Grecian warrior pose that highlighted his legs. “Does this
please you Cariadon? What about this one…?” He changed his pose.
“What about a three quarter’s view? My legs from behind!” He looked
over his shoulder at her and winked. “And now for the leg lift…”
Lily nearly choked on her laughter as William’s face appeared over
the top of her husband’s leg as it hung in the air defying gravity.
Unaware of his nephew behind him, the beautiful man eyeing her with
adoration struck another manly pose. “What do you think Beloved? Do
I please you?”

“I think you’re going to embarrass Aunt Lily
to death. The poor woman escaped one form of torture for another.
You look like an ass!”

Mr Bowen flushed dark red as he dropped his
tail coats and quickly resumed a more natural pose. “I was showing
her my new trousers.”

“If you’d been wearing a dress I’d have
thought you one of those French dancers, you know the ones
that…”

“Yes thank you William, that’s very helpful.
Eat your food!”

“I don’t know if I can eat after seeing your
leg in the air like that. You looked like a dog about to mark his
territory. Is there any bacon?”

Lily was wiping away tears of laughter as Mr
Bowen returned to her chair and whispered, “In two years I’ll be
able to exhibit my handsome limbs in the breakfast room without
impudent interruption. I have something for you…I had it specially
made.”

“You’re going to spoil me…”

“Twt lol! That’s a cartload of rubbish. I
could buy you the moon and it wouldn’t spoil you. You’re married to
the man with the most beautiful legs in the world…if that hasn’t
spoiled you, nothing can. Besides, it cost less than that pair of
scissors you picked out. His raised eyebrows emphasized the coded
message.”

Lily glanced down the table to see William
engrossed in his food and glanced back at her husband. “Are you
sure you won’t change your mind?”

“Too late!” He leaned over and draped his arm
over the back of her chair and whispered in her ear, “She deserved
it.”

“Two wrongs never make a right Mr Bowen.”

“Perhaps not, but she’ll never bother you
again and I didn’t have to kill her…enough of that boring subject;
did you enjoy my legs? Shall I display them for you regularly?”

Lily glanced again at her nephew who appeared
to be staring the door waiting for Grace and blushed as she glanced
back to Mr Bowen’s waiting lips. “If it’s no bother…that would be
rather nice.”

“Good!” He leaned closer and paused so she
could see the adoring gleam in his eye before taking possession of
her lips.

Grace rolled her eyes. “Ugh! They’re not
kissing again are they? I think I’m going to be sick.”

“That’s nothing; you didn’t see Uncle showing
off his legs like some sort of deranged prostitute advertising his
wares…”

Mr Bowen released her lips and turned to
glare at the younger couple. “One more rude sneering comment in my
hearing from either of you and you’ll be eating porridge for two
weeks.” Grace gave him a nasty look and silently dished up her
breakfast. “Where was I? Oh yes, your gift…” He took the brown
paper wrapped sphere out of his pocket and placed it in her
hands.

“It’s heavy.”

“Like my heart when you’re out of sight.” A
faint gagging sound came from the other end of the table. “Are you
choking on your eggs Miss Grace?”

“I was just clearing my throat Uncle
Penryth.”

“Good! I thought for a moment there you were
getting hungry for porridge. Open it!” Lily peeled off the paper
until she was holding a clear glass orb containing a small white
feather.

“Oh Mr Bowen…” Lily’s eyes filled with tears
as she looked into adoring eyes that smoldered with pleasure at her
obvious appreciation. “…you’ve given me one of your feathers…”

Grace leaned towards William and whispered,
“I think Aunt Lily’s mind was affected when you cut off her hair.
Do you think her hair is growing the wrong way? Why does she keep
talking about feathers and swans?”

“It’s probably their code word for carnal
knowledge. Uncle is probably giving her a visual reminder that
he’ll need to visit her every morning or he’ll go mad…though
frankly I think he’s a little late.”

“Why would they need a code word?”

“I’ve no idea. If my wife can’t call carnal
knowledge something like…carnal knowledge she can marry some
other idiot and leave me in peace.”

“But what if she’s already married to you and
she starts referring to carnal knowledge as ‘booboo’, what would
you do?”

“I’d drug her food with laudanum. She’d spend
the rest of her life asleep so I wouldn’t have to kill her.”

“That makes sense, but why swans? Why not
chickens or ducks?”

“They couldn’t use chickens or ducks as code
words for carnal knowledge.”

“Why not?”

“Because they aren’t romantic; who could say,
‘Beloved you’re the prettiest duck I’ve ever had…’ without vomiting
and who’d want to be called ‘Little chicken’? It brings to mind
Sunday dinner after starving all morning at church or a barnyard
covered in chicken poop. How could that be romantic?”

“You’re right, but what if her hair is
growing the wrong way and fills her skull?”

“She’ll die and then Uncle Penryth won’t have
anyone to wave his leg at…pick up your plate and follow me before
they start…too late…avert your eyes!”

Epilogue
2

Early August 1718 at Mynyddowen, Mr Bowen’s
estate in Wales

Grace entered the breakfast room and scowled
on seeing William, his upper body hidden behind a newspaper. She’d
been waking two hours early for months to avoid just such an
occasion. She quietly filled her plate and slid into the chair
without pulling it out. With luck she’d be gone before he finished
reading. She chewed her bacon and eggs and rolled her eyes as he
chuckled to himself as if she needed to be reminded every few
seconds he was only a few feet away.

She glanced at the elegant masculine hands
holding the paper; the large nosed ungainly lad of nineteen had
transformed into a beautiful man. In a few weeks he’d be twenty-one
and she’d never see him except if he came to visit. She’d be lucky
to see him once a year if at all. Blinking back tears, she ate
faster. He was going to leave Mynyddowen and she’d lose her only
friend. He’d marry one of those stupid giggling girls who sneered
at her for being a disgraced penniless bastard and she’d die of a
broken heart. Her hope of escape evaporated as the paper was
abruptly folded and thrown onto the table. She could feel him
looking at her as she stared at her plate. It was best to steer the
conversation onto neutral ground. “Where did Aunt and Uncle go? I
heard the carriages leave first light.”

“Uncle Penryth is taking Aunt Lily and the
brat on a surprise visit to the seaside. I would have told you days
ago except I couldn’t find you. Uncle said they’d be back for my
birthday.”

“
They’ve left us alone for two
weeks?”

William glanced at the footman standing
inside the room. “We’re hardly alone.”

“Yes, but it seems odd that Uncle didn’t
arrange a chaperone. People will talk.”

“Hopefully they’ll talk about why you haven’t
talked to me in months. With luck they’ll solve the mystery and let
me know before I go mad from curiosity.”

“I’ve talked to you.”

“‘Please pass me the oyster sauce.’ and ‘I
don’t feel like playing the pianoforte.’ don’t qualify as talking
in Wales.” The man rubbed his cheek as he always did when he was
genuinely baffled. “What have I done? Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not.”

“Liar. If you’re not studiously avoiding me,
you’re either practicing to become a professional hermit or
avoiding unwanted suitors.”

“I have no suitors.”

“If you weren’t in hiding you’d have noticed
the regular crowd of men eager to claim the title. Mr Stradling has
been calling thrice a week. His face falls when he finds you’re
absent from the drawing room. When he asks after you I always tell
him you have consumption, but Aunt Lily spoils it by telling him
you’re in perfect health. Mr Wynn casually drops by every other day
to talk sheep and local beauties. When I mentioned in his hearing
the other day that you hated sheep he looked visibly
disturbed.”

“I don’t hate sheep.”

“I know, but Mr Wynn is one of those stupid
fellows who need a sensible reason to give up on a pretty girl. Mr
Price, that handsome scoundrel always smiling like a gate and
filling up your dance card, he had the nerve to ask Uncle for your
hand the other day. Uncle thought him a little too cheerful for
you, but he asked me if there was any way you’d marry the man so he
wouldn’t have to see him again…”

“I’m not interested.”

“That’s a relief. I told Uncle you hated the
man. It’s frightening how well I know you. We’re like an old
married couple…who never married.” It was his favorite taunt.
Normally she’d calmly tell him to go marry a goat or some girl he
loathed, but with his birthday looming she could no longer pretend
one day he’d change his mind and repeat his offer of marriage.
“What’s the matter Goosey-girl? Are you ill? Why aren’t you telling
me to go marry Miss Parry?”

If she said the words she’d burst into tears
and then he’d guess the truth. “I’m eating.”

“A mouthful has never stopped you before.” He
waited for a return insult, but there was none forthcoming. She
could see him out of the corner of her eyes sitting there with his
hands behind his neck. He was now going to say the most irritating
thing he could think of to get a response. “Thirteen days…” He
stretched his arms and growled in contentment. “In thirteen days
I’ll be my own man. No more threats of withheld allowances or gruel
and water if I fail to live up to Uncle’s chivalrous code. I look
forward to lifting my coat tails and farting at Cordelia Tudor
without fear of starvation.”

“Are you sure you’re not turning twelve?”

“
Oh good, you really are my silly goose,
not some mindless doppelganger left by Uncle to make me think I was
trusted with your person.” He paused hoping for another retort, but
Grace could feel her throat constricting with tears. One more word
and she’d flood her plate. “Does my face displease you?” She shook
her head. “Then why won’t you look at it? Have I offended you?” She
shook her head again. “Have I hurt your feelings?” She could only
shake her head and hope he wouldn’t guess. “I must have done
something to be treated like a leper. Are you in love with some
shepherd too poor to put a roof over your head?” She shook her head
and he sighed loudly as if relieved. “Do I stink? I would hope
you’d tell me…”

“No…” Grace felt the storm burst from her
heart and gush from her eyes. Jumping up from her chair she covered
her face with her arm and ran for the door, but missed it by
several feet and bumped into the wall. She was trapped and he was
going to guess. She heard him dismiss the footman and then she felt
his hand touch her back.

“Goose, you’re going to damage Aunt Lily’s
hand painted wall paper and then Uncle will make you pay for it by
going without new stockings forever. Why don’t you save your lovely
legs humiliation and cry on my shoulder. I promise I won’t demand
any sort of payment if it ruins my coat.” She tried to resist the
chance to be held in his arms one last time, but the hand caressing
her neck promised a priceless moment of happiness. Strong arms
wrapped around her as she wiped her nose on his waistcoat. “Life’s
been a cursed bore since you’ve become a hermitress, but your new
skill could prove profitable. Once I’m twenty-one I can move into
my house and make some much needed improvements. My garden will
need something special; I think a little cave with an attractive
hermitress near the fish pond would be just the thing. When I’m in
a pensive mood I could amble out to visit her. It would certainly
give the village gossips something to talk about. I haven’t told
anyone else…I was hoping since you’ve been hiding away in a damp
closet for two months you’d jump at the chance.”

Grace lifted her head and looked at him with
horrified outrage. “You want to hire me to live in a cave?”

“Well you seem to like hiding and at least
you wouldn’t have to live here and eat porridge. I’d have the
kitchen send you a plate of food and something to drink three times
a day and I’d make it a nice cave. I wouldn’t want you to become
moldy and die.”

She hated dirt, but living in a cave would be
heavenly if she could be near William. Of course he’d marry
eventually and the evil woman would send her packing, but that
might not happen for years. “It would have a fire?”

“It would have a fire with a marble surround;
only the best for my hermitress.”

“I’d need a bed.”

“I’ll buy you a little bed of walnut. I
promise the best layer of mattresses money can buy topped with the
finest bed linen and eider down quilts and pillows.”

“It would have to have a floor, I hate the
smell of dirt.”

“I think I could spend a few pounds putting
in a proper oak floor. You’d have to sweep it yourself. There
wouldn’t be any room for a maid, though as we’re such good friends
I’d let you to send your dresses to my laundry. I wouldn’t want you
to smell of unwashed linen. I hate that smell. It turns my stomach.
Nothing but the best for my hermitress; your job would be to sit in
my garden and ponder something noble.”

“Like what?”