‘My left, oh do hurry please - I don’t think I can put up with this for much longer…’
She heard a rustle above and then in front of her head and suddenly she was free as he shouted.
‘Pull back now, Titania, I can’t hold them…’
She flopped back onto the ground, tears streaming down her face, red tears as they mingled with the blood but she didn’t care. She could open her eyes, both of them. She could see and she certainly could hear as she squeezed them closed again.
She wondered if he’d even realised what he’d said as she felt the heat course up her face. Then she wondered how long he’d known as anger and, it must be said, disappointment grew under her breast in that dark mysterious place where her heart resided. She’d never felt more ashamed or embarrassed as just now.
That photo in the press had angered her. It had disappointed her but she hadn’t felt either ashamed or embarrassed. Every time she opened her Instagram tab she came across reality stars exposing a lot more in their airbrushed selfies than she had. It was her parents, or her father to be exact, that had gone off on one. What would the members of his club say? What kind of an example was it setting the servants? For God’s sake!
She would have smiled if her cheeks hadn’t hurt so much, remembering the big hug Clemmy had dragged her into as she’d contrasted her own muffin top with ‘the six pack and fine pair of dumplings’ on the front page. ‘Worthy of ‘page three’, she’d added with a wry chuckle.
‘Tansy, wake up! We need to get you back home to attend to your face.’
‘And your hands, Tor. Don’t forget your hands,’ Cassandra interrupted. ‘You’ve cut them to ribbons…’
‘And just who’s fault is that?’ he flung over his shoulder as he helped her from lying to sitting and then standing, both arms still round her back as he stared down at her. ‘I’m sorry for what she did,’ his finger running lightly across the welt on her cheek. ‘She had no right to hit you like that.’
Tansy turned and noticed the whip hanging limply from Cassandra’s hand but it didn’t matter in the scheme of things. So what if she had a ruddy great bruise on her cheek? So what if her face was scarred and disfigured from what felt like a thousand pin pricks? So what? He knew who she was. She’d have to leave. She’d always known she’d have to leave but not like this, never like this. She’d have to leave this beautiful place, a place she’d fallen in love with. No, her eyes now drawn to his hands; his hands covered in blood. She’d have to leave this beautiful place where she’d fallen in love with him, a man who’d never marry her now.
‘It doesn’t matter. Thank you for helping me,’ her eyes avoiding his face. ‘I’m sorry you’re hurt.’ She added, picking up the bike and starting to wheel it back up the hill.
‘Here let me help you with…’
‘No, I can manage.’ her voice sharp. ‘Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage,’ her gaze now on Cassandra.
Just her luck. The road that before was empty now contained all and sundry out for a stroll. There was the postman, Dick and his wife and then the butcher, Archie, but they didn’t stop. One look at her face dripping with what must resemble tears straight from hell and, after a brief “Hello, what’s happened to you, luv” they ran away as quickly as their little legs would carry them. She must look a fright although, funnily enough, apart from sore knees where skin had embraced tarmac, she felt fine.
She even met Lady Brayely on her way to the rose garden to check on how Jock’s new treatment for blackspot was working. It was fortuitous in a way because they both agreed she should leave on the next available train.
It hadn’t worked out quite as Lady Brayely had imagined. Oh, her cooking wasn’t at fault but she really couldn’t employ someone that was obviously so clumsy as to fall into a hedge.
‘Just how am I meant to explain it to the neighbours? Did you meet anyone of any importance on the way back to the castle?’
She’d paid her the wages she’d owed in cash, which was a bonus of sorts because how else could she afford to leave? She was pretty sure hitchhiking was out of the question and the £2.60 she had left wouldn’t get her past the first bus stop let alone the next train station.
The tears had stopped. Gathering together the household first-aid kit she started cleaning off what she could of the blood, before dabbing on Witch Hazel from the bottle Nanny had insisted she take with her. There was nothing she could do about the weal that went from her eyebrow to her chin but at least the skin wasn’t broken as she examined the area with a gentle finger. It was already turning blue and she’d have a ruddy great shiner before the evening was out but it didn’t matter. What good were looks anyway when she couldn’t have the one man she wanted?
Both Mary and Mr Todd had popped their heads in. She could see they were both upset, but not as upset as she was. She promised to keep in touch but would she? She’d like to think so but it would be too painful. Once her foot crossed back over the threshold of her former life, all she’d want to do was forget the last few weeks.
She was sitting on the end of the bed, if not twiddling her thumbs then passing the time of day staring out of the window. Miss Campbell had popped up with a tray of tea and a bag of sandwiches for the journey but, apart from that, there was silence as the household continued on their day to day activities below stairs. She hadn’t heard anything from Tor but then she hadn’t expected to. The stables were situated out of the way of the main body of the castle and there’d have been no need for him to come near this part of the house. He might not even be back, her eyes flickering to the watch on her wrist. It was still only 6 pm and, if what Mary said was true, he’d probably still be in bed with Cassandra.
She was bending to pick up her rucksack, her handbag in her other hand when she heard another knock on the door.
‘Who is it?’
‘Tor. I want to apologise.’
She opened the door only to have it taken from her grasp and closed firmly behind him.
‘Hey, you can’t come in here. What would your mother or Mr Todd think?’
‘My mother; well let’s leave her out of it shall we but Mr Todd would be jealous.’ She watched him nod his head in affirmation. ‘Yes, green-eyed with jealousy,’ his eyes lingering on her face with a frown.
‘That might have been true earlier,’ she started, avoiding his gaze by going to her bedside table and picking up her book. ‘And anyway, you have nothing to apologise for. It wasn't you who attacked me.’ She gulped back anything else she had to say on the subject of Cassandra and her antics because, of course, he’d support her side of the story over some little cook. Her attention shifted to his hands, his heavily bandaged hands.
‘It seems as if I should be thanking you and not the other way round?’
‘They’re nothing, superficial. I have thick skin,’ he added, but there was no smile to accompany his words. Instead he reached up a hand and tilted her chin so he could examine her face in the light. ‘I don’t think they’ll scar but you should really see a doctor.’
‘And what exactly would I say, Tor? That some harpy attacked me with a whip, like something out of a regency novel before shoving me into a holly bush?’ She noticed his blush but chose to ignore it, instead shoving on her hat before slinging her bag across her shoulder. ‘No, I don’t think so, thank you all the same. You really do need to have a word with your girlfriend though. She’ll find herself prosecuted if she carries on.’
‘You honestly think I’d have a girlfriend when I’m engaged to be married to you?’
‘I seem to have missed something somewhere. Oh yes, the proposal.’ She raised her hand at the sight of him starting to open his mouth. ‘Please don’t. The answer is no. It will always be no.’
She eyed him warily. She really had to leave if she wasn't going to miss her train. ‘I can’t say it’s been a pleasure but I have a train to catch if you could…’
‘You don’t have to go,’ he said, running a hand through his hair. ‘
In fact, I insist you stay. I’ll call a doctor. When did you last have a tetanus for instance? What about a course of antibiotics just in case?’
‘I’m not a child…’
‘Well, don’t act like one, Titania. We both know who you are, although I’m still in the dark as to why you’d pretend to be my cook?’ he said, continuing to study her with that arrogant look she’d grown to hate. ‘It’s not as if I haven’t been married, I know how a woman’s mind works or at least I thought I did.’
‘I knew you were married.’
‘You knew? Oh, below stairs gossip, I suppose,’ his voice suddenly harsh. ‘Well, spit it out. What did they have to say? That I wasn’t man enough to keep her satisfied? That she had to look elsewhere for her fun and frolics?’
‘It wasn’t like that.’
‘No, you do surprise me.’ He heaved a breath, his gaze flickering back to her face, her throat, her chest before continuing. ‘So, tell me why you’re here - I’d really like to know?’
The colour left her cheeks just as all heat left the argument. She didn’t want to argue with him. All she wanted was for him to lift her into his arms and wrap her in the tightest hug but it was too late for that, far too late. Too much had happened for there to ever be a happy-ever-after to this fiasco.
‘It was a mistake; a huge mistake and one I regret. I just want to go, Tor. Please let me go,’ her eyes huge in death pale cheeks.
‘This isn’t over. This isn’t over by a long shot, Tansy.’ He twisted the door knob only to pause before pulling the door towards him. ‘I apologise for my behaviour both now and earlier, and that of Cassandra but this isn’t the end of it. Go to the doctor for God’s sake. I’ll be up to see you next week when you’re in the mood to discuss things like adults.’ His eyes lingered on her as if he wanted to say something, something important but he didn’t and the arrogant look, the one she despised more than anything, was back. ‘I’ll get Toddy to take you to the station,’ the door whispering closed on the last of his words.
She sat down on the edge of the bed, reluctant to do anything other than sit. Nanny had been right; when was she ever wrong as she thought back to the last minute Witch Hazel? But a dab of Witch Hazel couldn’t solve this problem. This problem was insurmountable. She’d been playing a very dangerous game, a game she’d finally lost. There was no going back to her parents or her previous life. There was no going back to her facile lifestyle of superficial friends and wasted hours. But there’d also be no hanging around waiting for Tor.
She just knew he was going to turn all honourable on her and offer for her hand. But the one thing she couldn’t bear was a loveless marriage, a loveless marriage on his side. She had more than enough love for the two of them, but that was useless if he wouldn’t accept it. He’d been hurt before by a woman, presumably his wife and now he was unable or unwilling to give his heart to anyone else. Well she couldn’t live like that. No, she wouldn’t live like that. Her parents could get stuffed. The Press could get stuffed. They could all go to blazes as far as she was concerned as she picked up her belongings and headed for the door. There was only one person running her life and that was Titania Nettlebridge. Tansy Smith was gone forever. She’d start again, she’d have to. But who would she be? What would she do? She’d be true to herself and her own needs for once in her life. She’d bake all day if that’s what it took for her to cut the strings to her parents’ wallet. She’d make a success of her life not because of but despite them.
Lifting her head she stared at Mr Todd, a sweet smile on her lips as he took her bags.
Being led out of the front door was a surprise but one she couldn’t argue with.
‘Master Tor insisted, miss,’ he said, quietly.
Of course he had. ‘Thank you, Mr Todd.’
‘The staff will be right sad to see you go, miss. We all loved your cooking,’ he added, opening the back door of the Daimler before heading for the boot.
‘I’d prefer to sit up front.’
‘But the master said…’
‘Never mind him; he’s not here, is he?’ She shut the back door before clambering in beside him. ‘The back is so lonely, don’t you think?’
‘Yes miss.’
‘Don’t call me that. My name is Tansy.’
Chapter Thirteen
The overnight train from Oban to London pulled into Euston Station a little after nine. She was cold, tired and still more than a little peeved at being dragged out of her seat in the small hours to change at Glasgow. Whoever set the timetable must have been having a laugh or in league with the coffee stand that was doing a roaring trade in coffee and bacon butties, a glimmer of an idea sparkling under her eyelids. The young woman, in charge, seemed to be managing despite the long queue. She could do the same. Oh, not bacon butties as this was London, and not from a stand but…
‘Where to, luv?’
She’d been standing outside Euston Station in a world of her own. She had a tentative plan of sorts, a plan that would need a kitchen; a well-equipped kitchen that would pass all the inspections. There was only one person with the right kitchen, but would he help?
She found herself clambering into the back of the hackney cab because that’s what she did. That’s what she always did in London but, with the money from Lady Brayely running through her fingers she’d better learn to take the Tube. She almost laughed at the thought of Lady Titania being photographed clambering aboard the Northern Line along with the rest of the commuters. It would certainly be a refreshing change.
‘In your own time, luv. The clock’s ticking…?’ he said, tapping the black box on the dash with nicotine stained fingers.
‘Starbucks then. The one by The Shard.’
‘Right you are,’ he said, catching her eye briefly in the mirror before swerving into the steady flow of traffic with little regard for the other motorists. She tilted the peak of the baseball cap she’d just purchased before pushing up her sunglasses. It was a disguise of sorts, the best she could do with the limited funds at her disposal. The sunglasses were the largest she could find. The fact they had huge diamante stars at the edges was something she wasn’t prepared to think about. They hid her eyes and the upper half of her face and, if she kept her left cheek averted no one would notice the bruising. If she could only stop herself from smiling she’d be able to forget about the incident all together…
‘Pssst, over here.’
She’d ensconced herself in Starbucks with a coffee and a newspaper, the peak of her cap pulled even further down her face. She knew she looked like something out of a bad spy movie but, if she didn’t want to be recognised for all the wrong reasons, she had little choice. However, when her own brother had just walked past her twice with a barely concealed scowl, she had to resort to other measures.
What he’d say was another thing. Hamilton, her handsome older brother, just oozed professionalism and charm. Bedecked as he was in head to toe Armani, he was the epitome of the successful businessman and she’d noticed at least two other women giving him the once over. Hamilton, who always knew what to say, whom nothing fazed, was fazed now.
‘OMG! What the hell?’ he said, flipping the brim of her cap with a long finger.
‘Shush,’ she hissed, throwing a glance over her shoulder. ‘Do you want everyone to know it’s me?’ she added, pushing a cup in front of him before cradling her own large Americano between interlaced fingers. ‘I got you a skinny soya latte.’
‘Thanks, but I don’t understand,’ his gaze now focussed on her black ponytail popping out the back of the cap with a shake of his head. ‘You drag me out of an investment meeting with the MD for a coffee and a chat? Although I must say the coffee’s a whole lot better than the rubbish they were serving.’ He leant back in his chair and crossed his legs. ‘So what’s with the new look then; I hear you’ve been upsetting ma and pa?’
‘That’s two questions,’ she said, taking off the glasses to show him a glimpse of her black eye. ‘I can’t very well go aro
und like this, now can I?’
He nearly dropped the cup. Instead he placed it down before taking up her hand. ‘Just who the hell did that to you? I’ll bloody kill him. No one, I repeat no one messes with my sister.’
‘It wasn’t his fault.’ She paused, gently easing her hand back. ‘It was an accident, well part of it was. He tried to help… He wouldn’t hurt me, well not physically anyway,’ her voice petering out. ‘Look, I can’t go home like this. If I do they’ll just carry on with the marriage arrangements and I can’t let them arrange my life for me.’
‘They might do a better job than you seem to be doing,’ he said, studying her. ‘So is that why you’ve called me then? You want me to what; put you up? Give you a job? Hide you away until you’re fit to grace the front cover of Vogue again?’
‘Yes, yes, no and partially yes. I’ve never made it to the front of Vogue.’ She smiled, ticking off his questions on her fingers. ‘I can sort myself out financially but if you could just put me up for a while, and not tell dad. Oh, and I’ll need clothes.’ She frowned, thinking about her lack of funds. ‘If I get Nanny to put a bag in the garage you could perhaps pick it up on your way home?’
He sighed, his eyes on the legs of an attractive redhead ordering a hot chocolate to go. ‘I’ll visit them after work,’ his gaze finally meeting hers. ‘But I won’t lie for you. If they ask if I know where you are, I’ll tell them.’ He stood up. ‘I have to go but I expect you to tell me everything that’s happened including this man that allegedly didn’t beat you up,’ his look sceptical as he pulled a key off his ring. ‘The alarm code is 5489. For God’s sake, don’t forget it or write it down, Notting Hill isn’t what it used to be.’
Notting Hill might not be what it used to be but it would do fine, more than fine as the taxi dropped her outside the front door of his two-bedroomed, top floor flat in Westbourne Park Road. She often wondered if he’d bought it because he liked it or because of its ideal location. But, whatever the reason, she loved it, not least because he’d stripped out the old, jaded kitchen in favour of an upmarket stainless steel design.
The Englishwoman Trilogy: Box set of: Englishwoman in Paris, Englishwoman in Scotland, Englishwoman in Manhattan Page 29