A Companion for Life

by Cari Hislop

  Laying the coat back on her bed she obeyed her stomach and hobbled down stairs, oblivious to the pain in her knee. On entering the dining room she found him sitting in his chair staring at his empty plate with that polite mask. What was he thinking? She didn’t dare ask, but hearing her enter he jumped out of his chair and hurried to pull hers out. He really was the kindest man. Smiling dark eyes made it easy to believe that nothing bad would ever happen again.

  Chapter 8

  The following week passed in a warm pleasant daze. Lily’s bruises were healing revealing glimpses of her pretty face. When Penryth wasn’t concocting a reason to touch his wife he was making her blush by telling outrageous stories from his past. Any other woman would have slapped him or locked herself away in her room. His rescued bride merely turned pink under a curtain of frizzy orange hair. She happily obliged his request to see her wear it down. He liked watching it move around her, as if it had a life of its own. Sometimes she appeared to have a strange orange creature living on her head. Any moment it might leap to the floor and walk away.

  He hadn’t kissed her again. He didn’t trust himself to be a gentleman if she gave him even the faintest encouragement. Remembering how the tip of her tongue had welcomed his without resistance made him break into a cold sweat and his heart tattoo her name on the inside of his chest. Ruminating future pleasure was ploughing sand; she wasn’t in any state to accommodate his passion. The doctor was pleased with her healing, but she was still in pain.

  Penryth assiduously avoided probing for any meaning behind the new warm feeling in his chest. Lily might be the most comfortable woman he’d ever known, but she was simply another woman he desired. Sweeping curves were taunting him from the other end of the table as Jones delivered the morning post. He dragged his eyes away from his blushing wife and picked up the solitary letter with his name written in a familiar hand. The few times he’d thought of his mistress it was only to compare her unfavorably with his new companion. Breaking the wax seal out of habit he scanned the swirling scrawl. She’d forgiven him and begged him to attend her immediately for an intimate conversation.

  He glanced down the table at his wife who’d paused to watch him. That cape of orange hair seemed to growl as she tried to hide her curiosity. He folded the letter and shoved it into a pocket as he rose from his seat and walked to the other end of the table. “I have some urgent business to attend. Is there anything I can get you while I’m out?” She shook her head, her wild hair trembling in disgust at what he was about to do. It knew he was going to make love to Melisande while imagining it was Lily in his arms. It would be difficult as Melisande was only half the woman he really wanted, but the temptation to ease the longing outweighed the dishonor of his actions. Leaning over he smiled as he eyed her tempting lips; they were healing. In another few days the scabs would fall off and she’d be even more kissable. The ugly swollen bruises around her eyes and jaw were receding revealing pretty features. The animal on her head leaned back to claw at his eyes as she looked up with an innocent expression tinged with hope. Did she want him to kiss her? One temptation, two temptations… He draped his arm over the back of her chair and gave in to the hunger, unconcerned that his servants would witness that he desired his fat wife. An eternity later he pulled his lips away and smiled into eyes that looked like they’d been cut out of a brown autumn leaf streaked with yellow-gold and light green. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Is there anything you need or desire from the shops Mrs Bowen?”

  “I don’t need anything Mr Bowen, thank you.”

  “Not even some chocolate bonbons that I could exchange for kisses. How many kisses, I mean bonbons would you like Mrs Bowen?”

  He smirked as she flushed bright pink and glanced at Jones standing nearby staring at the ceiling with a pained expression. She leaned towards him and whispered, “Half a dozen?”

  “Half a dozen?” The words were loud enough to reach every corner of the room. “Are my kisses so unpleasant Mrs Bowen?”

  “You’re very wicked…” His amusement and followed him from the house and down the street. The warm pleasant feeling was becoming almost tangible as if someone had put an immortal white hot coal in a heart shaped brazier and sewn it into his chest. The sky threatened rain, the cobbles were slippery with muck and mud; he’d never known such a beautiful day. Over the noise of the city he could hear birds singing praises to plump wives and the wind moaning Lily’s name as he passed through narrow streets. Humming a waltz, he mentally relived the exquisite taste of her lips and the adoration in her eyes. With every turn of the head London offered images inspiring thoughts of Lily. He could only conceive one thing making him happier and that would have to wait ‘till his bride was free of bruises. Just thinking about lying in Lily’s arms turned his innards inside out and sent his blood whirling through his body. Several times he found his feet unconsciously carrying him homeward, but he resolutely turned them back towards his mistress.

  …

  Fifty minutes later Penryth lay in his lover’s arms, his spent pleasure tainted by an uncomfortable dose of guilt. Cracking open his eyes he found Melisande’s lips, swollen from his hungry kisses, pursed in irritation. “What is that look for?”

  “Who is she?”

  He rolled onto his back and glared at the ceiling. He didn’t need a scene to expound his guilt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Liar! You’ve never made love to me like that. You’re in love with someone you can’t have aren’t you? You can’t have her so you used me…Oh I hate you!”

  “I’m not in love…” She jumped onto her knees and slapped his chest, drawing his glare to her mismatched breasts. How could he have ever found them attractive? They were far too small. “…you wished me to pleasure you and I did.”

  “You haven’t once looked me in the eyes…you still can’t…look at me!”

  He couldn’t. He wanted to pretend Lily was lying beside him. “I didn’t come for a row.”

  “No, you came to use me you horrid Welsh turd. I offered an olive branch and this is how you repay me? Get out and don’t ever touch me again, not even to kiss my hand in public or I’ll slap your face.”

  “Good. Don’t send me notes begging for pleasure because I’ll throw them in the fire.”

  “Who is she or are Welshmen so thick they don’t know when they’re in love?”

  “I’m not in love!” Even as he said the words the hot coal burst into flames threatening to burn a hole in his chest. Love would make him dependent. It would make him vulnerable. He wasn’t in love.”

  The naked woman’s eyes weren’t smiling as she barked out a harsh acidic laugh. “You’ve fallen in love with some virgin, but you can’t have her because you married that fat ugly woman…”

  “My wife isn’t ugly!”

  His lover’s lips trembled as her eyes filled with angry tears. “You’re in love with your wife?”

  Penryth felt a hot flush roll up his neck over his face. “I’m not.”

  She leaned over him sneering through her tears. “Can’t you make love to her or is she too fat? Is it like mating a beached whale? It must be deeply distressing to be in love with a woman you can’t make love to. You’ll have to lock her in her room and starve her down to a manageable size.”

  Penryth’s guilt and rage boiled away his calm façade. “I don’t know why I ever thought you beautiful; you’re so ugly on the inside it’s rotting away your mask. Your poor husband will wake up in a few years and find a poxed jaded hag…” She slapped him hard across the mouth and then backhanded him before he could think to turn away. Sobbing she leapt off the bed and ran through the connecting door to her dressing room and slammed the door. Swearing under his breath at his swelling lips he threw on his clothes. How was he going to explain his fat lip and disordered appearance? He couldn’t tell Lily he’d visited his mistress directly after kissing her; she’d think him a heartless cad. He’d have to stay away longer than he’d originally planned. He needed t
ime to concoct a suitable story, but the only thought swirling through his head was that Melisande’s lips had tainted the sweetest kisses he’d ever tasted. As he wiped his mouth on his coat sleeve he wished he could wipe away the fact that he’d disgraced himself and unwittingly humiliated his wife. Melisande would see to it that half of England heard that he couldn’t mate his wife because she was too fat. It was so stupid people would believe it. As if his poor wife didn’t have enough wounds; quenching his lust had ensured she’d get a public bruising. Feeling sick with shame he wandered aimlessly towards the shops wishing there was something he could buy to assuage guilt.

  Chapter 9

  Feeling bored and lonely, Lily sat listening for her husband’s return. The open book on her lap remained unread as she wondered what sort of business had taken him away from his breakfast. She twirled one of the emerald bracelets and admired the green fire winking reminders of his breakfast kisses. She hoped he’d buy twelve dozen bonbons; she could sit and kiss him for hours. The thought made her smile as she twirled the other bracelet. He was the kindest, most beautiful man in the world with lips that made her feel like she was waking from an enchanted sleep. She was smiling as she heard someone knock on the front door. Mr Bowen had probably forgotten his key; he’d nearly forgotten his pocket book. Hopefully he’d bought a box of chocolate bonbons; a box of kisses. She threw down her book and hobbled to the top of the stairs. Leaning over the banister she froze. There was a woman in the hall handing Jones a calling card. Lily was about to shrink back into the shadows so she could claim not to be home when the woman looked up and smiled. Jones followed the callers’ eyes up the stairs, “Lady Gillingham wishes to know if you’re accepting visitors.”

  Lily felt her blood turn to ice as she stared at the beautiful slender woman, “Forgive me Lady Gillingham, but as you can see I’m not dressed to receive callers…I thought you were my husband…”

  Lady Gillingham ignored Jones’ disproving expression and Lily’s obvious attempts to avoid the unwanted meeting by moving up the stairs. On reaching the landing she eyed Lily’s bruises with a keen interest. “It’s certainly cold today. You must be freezing. A hot cup of tea will quickly warm our fingers…” Lily had no experience of repudiating unwanted callers. She’d lived her adult life in the social background, too busy serving or running errands to even hear how her sister might have handled the situation. She felt like a cornered mouse about to be devoured by a cat; but first the cat would toy with her. Lily could only hope the woman would lose interest quickly and leave to find someone else to maul.

  “Jones…” The man was still standing at the bottom of the stairs with an unhappy look on his face. “…a tea tray in the sitting room please.”

  “As you say Madam…”

  “If you’ll follow me.”

  With her husband’s mistress sitting nearby it was impossible not to feel fat, ugly and suddenly melancholic. All happiness in her heart drained away leaving black and white shadows. Why would Mr Bowen ever want to bed her when he could visit Lady Gillingham? The beautiful woman was perfectly proportioned for the latest fashions. Her bust was neither too small nor too large. The pleasing mounds of bluish tinged flesh were displayed to perfect advantage with a yellow high-waisted silk gown complimented by a blue wool spencer and matching hat. If Lily tried to wear that outfit she’d look like an ill-painted chest of drawers with a forgotten hat left on top. “Penryth suggested this morning that I pay you a visit. He said you were in need cheering while you were recovering.”

  Lily felt the words slap her cheek. She blinked away her tears and replied calmly, “That was very kind of Mr Bowen.”

  “Don’t you use your husband’s Christian name?”

  “No.”

  “How old fashioned…well perhaps when you’re better acquainted…you haven’t been married long.”

  “No.”

  “Those are rather nasty looking bruises…Penryth was telling me this morning how much improved you looked. You must have looked hideous after…you know.” Lily felt her cheeks burn with mortification and her stomach heave at the thought of Mr Bowen discussing her with his mistress. “Your husband and I are particular intimates…”

  “You’re his mistress.”

  The lady looked surprised. “He told you? How indelicate.” The woman quickly gathered her wits. “Especially considering your…” The beautiful woman eyed her with exaggerated disbelief. “…circumference. You must find it a trial, having such a beautiful husband.”

  “How would Mr Bowen’s beauty be a trial?”

  Lady Gillingham made a show of suppressing her amusement. “My dear, didn’t you think it a trifle odd that a new husband would mention the fact he has a mistress? It’s not something most men admit to their brides. It implies the wife is incapable of fulfilling his needs.” Lily bit the inside of her cheek and silently reminded herself that Mr Bowen had married her out of pity, but the awful words pierced her heart. “You and I shall be great friends; we’re like two halves of a wife.” Lily didn’t return the lady’s cold smile. “Your size may make it impossible for you to pleasure Penryth, but you can be his hearth companion and ensure his house is run properly while I fulfill his physical needs and ensure he’s satiated with happiness. A well run house makes a man comfortable, but men can’t endure celibacy without going mad, or so I’m told. You wouldn’t want a raving Welshman at your breakfast table; you never know what a man will do when his needs are pressing. He might even beat you black and blue.” Lily blinked back more tears. What did the horrid woman mean her size made it impossible? “You were lately living with your sister Mrs Philips I understand? She was a beauty in her prime. Isn’t it odd how family blood seems to randomly decree a curse on one sibling and a blessing on the other…like Jacob and Esau. You have the most interesting hair. There’s so much of it. I can understand why you’d simply leave it down. It must be impossible to put up without looking like you have a tumor on your head. Have you ever tried to powder it to tone down the orange?”

  “Mr Bowen likes it down.”

  Lady Gillingham looked shocked before recovering her superior smile. “It must look better down than up. Men always prefer long hair. My husband has forbid me to cut mine, though he’s gone to India so I could cut it all off and he might never know.”

  “No, he might die before he can return to find you’ve been playing wife with my husband.”

  “Mrs Bowen, I was hoping we could be friends, but you appear to have an emaciated unforgiving heart for such a fat body. Don’t come crying to me when your husband beats you black and blue because you’re too rotund to pleasure him. I tried to be helpful, but some people won’t be helped. It appears Penryth has made a poor choice of bride. Pray he doesn’t decide to get an annulment and send you back to Mrs Philips; I understand she’s quite a hard task master.” Lady Gillingham stood up with studied dignity. “I shan’t stay for tea. Doubtless you’ll need the lot to keep your spirits from drooping as low as your bust. It’s no wonder Penryth came to me this morning to be pleasured, he was probably afraid he’d suffocate in your bosom if he tried to make love to you. I’ll show myself out; conserve your vigour for luncheon.”

  Lily’s cold heart had frozen her limbs. She was still sitting there staring into space when Jones entered five minutes later carrying a tea tray. “Is there a key to my chamber door?”

  “It’s on your mantel, in the round ceramic dish.” Lily somehow managed to shift her weight to her feet and move her legs to her room. Locking the door, she tore both emerald bracelets from her wrists and let them fall to the floor before collapsing face down onto the bed and rolling onto her back. Mr Bowen had kissed her knowing he was going to visit that awful woman; her heart felt a vicious stabbing sensation every time the fact crawled through her conscious. His kisses and kindness meant nothing. If only Mr Bowen had left the bottle of laudanum in her room. She could have drunk it and insured that she’d never have to face him. She lay on her bed feeling like a whale that had b
een harpooned, cut up and prepared to be burnt in an oil lamp. She was nothing but a greasy curl of smoke swirling into the ether.

  Chapter 10

  It was gone five before Penryth dragged himself home. He was dreading having to explain his fat lip. She’d think he’d been attacked by ruffians. She’d make a fuss of him and that would make him feel like an even bigger cad. He closed the door and paused; something wasn’t right. There were no faint sounds coming from the kitchen or distant chattering maids. His house was as silent as a mausoleum. “Mrs Bowen?” He waited, but there was no answering sound. She was probably resting. “Jones!” Several minutes later the man appeared looking grim. “What’s the matter? Why is the house so quiet?”