by Lynn Bryant
“Willing?” she spat furiously. “Willing? Is that what you think it means, you foul rapist? Did you do that to your other wives to get them to say yes? Hold them down, tell them it was all right and force yourself onto them so they couldn’t say no? Jesus Christ, I thought you a bully and a brute but I’d no idea you were this bad!”
Gelling had found his handkerchief and was holding it to his bleeding face. “You spiteful little bitch!” he ground out. “I was soft with you there, I could have been done with you in five minutes, but I wanted to be nice to you...”
“Nice? With one hand over my mouth to stop me screaming and the other one touching me where you’ve no right to go? Get out of here or I’ll yell the place down and believe me I can make myself heard over that caterwauling they call music in there! I will tell my father we will not be married and you will not come near the Top House again!”
Gelling withdrew the handkerchief and looked at the blood stains and then up at her. “No,” he said. “That’s not how this will work, Miss Crellin.”
He took three steps towards her and Roseen braced her lower back against the balustrade and let him come. When he was close enough, reaching out for her, she hoisted the light weight of her skirts high, lifted her foot and kicked him hard with the flat of her shoe in the bulge of his genitals.
Gelling gave a high pitched scream and collapsed to the ground clutching himself. Roseen stepped forward before he could move and stamped again and he sobbed, curling up into a ball.
“You heard all the stories about me running wild with the lads from the fishing fleet, didn’t you, Mr Gelling? Well I learned a lot more than how to sail a boat and manage a net from those boys. I’m going to find my aunt. You come anywhere near me again and I will make sure you never sire those sons, I promise you. Good evening.”
Returning up the path to the house she tidied herself with trembling hands, struggling to do up enough of the buttons at the back to make herself decent. She was almost there when a voice said:
“Miss Crellin, are you quite well?”
Roseen froze, recognising the voice of her host’s daughter. “Yes,” she said. “Or - actually, no. Feeling a little unwell, I believe I should find my aunt and go home.”
“Well you do not look all right and you cannot go back into the reception like that!” Maria Quayle said. “Forgive me, but you seem upset. Has something happened?”
Roseen gritted her teeth. She had no intention of making her rival a present of her distress but she could think of no plausible story, her brain appeared to have frozen just as her body had when Gelling had first attacked her. She was appalled at what might have happened to her and she desperately wanted to be away from here.
“Come upstairs to my room,” Maria Quayle said suddenly and decidedly. “I will tidy you up and send for your aunt and your father. You need tell me nothing if you do not wish.”
Roseen was shocked into silence. She followed the other girl up a back stairway and into a plain room furnished with solid oak and painted white. Maria Quayle, who appeared to have turned into another person, sat her firmly on a stool before the long mirror.
“Look at yourself!” she said and Roseen looked and blushed scarlet. Her hair had come loose from its pins in the struggle and fell down her back and one shoulder of her gown was torn. There was a mark on her bare shoulder and Roseen was appalled to realise that there were teeth marks.
“Here, let me button that gown and I’ll find some pins,” Miss Quayle said.
Roseen sat unresisting as the other girl buttoned her gown and pinned it neatly to conceal the tear. She washed Roseen’s tear stained face, combed out her unruly hair and brought hair pins. Eventually she surveyed her handiwork in the mirror.
“There, I think that will pass muster, at least to get you back home. I am going to lend you my silk shawl, it is bigger than that wrap and will conceal the tear better. Stay there and rest for a moment.”
She returned shortly with a glass of champagne and the shawl. “Drink that, it will bring colour to your cheeks. Shortly I will find your aunt and then take you down to her once the carriage is here. I am afraid they are going to think you are behaving badly again, refusing to remain at a party, but there is nothing we can do about that.”
“Is that what people think?” Roseen asked tiredly.
“What else will people think, Miss Crellin, when you avoid people so assiduously? The only time you appear happy is when you are monopolising the best looking man in the room. Which, by the way, you always do. It is most tiresome.”
Roseen laughed suddenly. “Oh no - really no. It is just that I am so hopeless at this! I have no idea what to say to people, when I do say something it comes out wrong…I had no intention of being rude.”
“You did not seem to find it hard to talk to Lieutenant Barton,” Miss Quayle said drily.
“I never needed to talk to Mr Barton, he was very capable of talking about himself for hours. Looking back upon it I imagine that is why his attention lighted upon me in the first place. I did not require anything for myself I simply admired what he had to say.”
Maria Quayle burst into laughter. “No, did he? Well and how would I know that, I never got near him? And what about Captain Kelly?”
Roseen felt herself close down. “Captain Kelly was different,” she said.
Miss Quayle sighed. “What a fool you were. Miss Crellin - please don’t think that I am trying to pry, but did Mr Gelling hurt you?”
Roseen took a deep breath. “Mr Gelling tried to rape me,” she said.
“Good God. What an odious man he is! I have had trouble with him myself, several of the girls have. Nothing as bad as this, though. He puts his arm about one’s waist or strokes one’s leg under the table. Horrible man. Still I am shocked that he…”
“He thought it would make me marry him. And I think he felt that with my very damaged reputation, even if I made a complaint nobody would believe me. I didn’t think anybody would, I was trying to think up some story.”
“If you are able to concoct a story about how you managed to tear half the buttons off your gown and rip it open as well as bite yourself, you are a better liar than I give you credit for, Miss Crellin.”
Roseen smiled a little sadly. “I am not a very good liar at all. Hugh used to say every thought I had was written on my face…”
She broke off and the blonde girl studied her. “It is,” she said. “That’s how I know you don’t like me.”
“I didn’t like Hugh when I first met him either,” Roseen said, and suddenly there were tears at the back of her eyes. “I’m often wrong, Miss Quayle. I haven’t even thanked you for this, you’ve been so kind. Really.”
“You are very welcome. I think you would have done the same for me, despite your low opinion of me.”
“I would,” Roseen said. “But I am sorry. I make judgements about people I don’t know just because I feel so awkward around them. But that is not your fault. Please forgive me.”
Maria Quayle laughed suddenly. “You really have no idea how to dissemble have you?” she said. “No wonder he fell in love with you so fast, he must have been able to read it in your eyes. Do you think he’ll come back.”
“Oh yes, he loves Mann. But if he does, I think he is more likely to pay court to you than to me.”
“Well I do not want him,” Maria said loftily. “I have no use for a man who is in love with somebody else. I have a very great secret, Miss Crellin.”
“Which is?”
“I intend to marry for love. And since I have no chance of finding the right man on this island - because if he were here, I would have met him by now - I have persuaded my father to allow me to spend a season in London next year. Not the very highest society of course, but my cousin moves in very good circles and will introduce me to everybody! Now tell me the truth, do you think I shall take?”
Roseen studied the fair, pretty face and smiled. “I think you will be a very great hit,” she said. “And I hope
you find him.”
“So do I. Drink your wine and I will find Mrs Faragher.”
She was back in ten minutes and took Roseen’s arm to lead her downstairs. Mr Crellin and Mrs Faragher were waiting by the door and one look at her father’s grim expression told Roseen that he knew something of what had happened.
“Father…”
“Not a word! Not one word. In the carriage and we’ll talk at home, young lady. I’ve been hearing a tale from Mr Gelling, and what you’ve done to his face…”
He broke off, suddenly remembering the presence of his host’s daughter. “Thank you, Miss Quayle, and my apologies. I…”
Maria ignored him. “What did you do to his face?” she asked Roseen.
“I scratched him. Rather badly.”
Maria gave a peal of laughter and to Roseen’s complete astonishment stepped forward and hugged her. “Good. I hope that will teach him not to put his horrible hands on a woman who does not welcome it. Forgive me, Mr Crellin, for kidnapping your daughter but I found her very upset and I hope you will not scold her because Mr Gelling behaved very badly and not for the first time with a young girl. I myself was once obliged to slap him. Really if he had not so much money he would not be invited. Miss Crellin, may I ride over tomorrow to retrieve my shawl and see if you are fully recovered?”
“Yes,” Roseen said baldly. “I do hope you will. And thank you again.”
“Nonsense. Go home, sleep and forget about him, he is not worth your trouble.”
They were halfway to the Top House when Mr Crellin finally spoke. “What did he do to you, Roseen?”
Roseen had had time to consider. “He was drunk,” she lied. “He tried to kiss me and when I pushed him away he was very rough with me. He tore my dress and…I don’t know that he would actually have done more but I was very frightened. I’m sorry if I’ve embarrassed you again, Father.”
“You’ve embarrassed me?” her father said. “Christ, lass, that’s hardly your fault, I’m ashamed I didn’t know it of the man. When I get my hands on him…”
“Don’t,” Roseen said quickly. “You can’t. A lot of people won’t believe it. Or if they do, they’ll pretend not to. As Miss Quayle just said, he has a lot of money and I have a poor reputation. He won’t come near me again, I’ve made a fool of him and I don’t think he’ll spread this around.”
“Well it’s hard to think I can’t punch him,” her father said after a moment. “But I will speak to him, Rosie, and tell him he’s to stay away from you. Are you all right, lass? I’m sorry I was short with you.”
“I’m fine. I can hardly blame you, sir, given my conduct over the past year or two. I’m just so grateful to Miss Quayle or I’d have run in looking like a madwoman and embarrassed you all over again.”
“Yes. What was that about, lass? You’re not normally so chatty with Maria Quayle. I thought you couldn’t abide her.”
“So did I,” Roseen said. “But I’ve been wrong before.”
Roseen saw nothing more of Orry Gelling. Her father told her nothing of his interview with him and she did not ask. She spent, astonishingly, the whole of the following afternoon with Maria Quayle, who rode over as promised. They did not talk of Gelling and although Roseen sensed her new acquaintance was dying to ask her about Hugh Kelly, she respected Roseen’s evident reluctance. They talked instead of local scandals, most of which Roseen had never heard, of gowns and hairstyles and of Miss Quayle’s proposed trip to London.
“If I am not a success it will be because of my hair,” Maria said mournfully. “Look at it. Do you have any idea how long it takes me to produce anything like a successful curl? One of the many reasons I have loathed you, dearest Miss Crellin, is because of those curls.”
Roseen remembered with a stab of pain, Hugh joking about it. “They are not my fault,” she said apologetically and Maria gave a peal of laughter.
“No. And now that I have got to know you a little I have decided to be magnanimous and forgive you for them. But my hair is flat. It looks as though I have ironed it.”
“It is such a lovely colour though - like ripe wheat,” Roseen said. “I wonder how it would look without curls?”
“Without curls? Are you mad? Without curls, one is invisible.”
“I cannot think of any circumstance in which you would not be noticed,” Roseen said. “But in London you need to stand out. Why do you not come over one morning and let my maid try out some new ideas? She is the cleverest girl on the island with hair and she would love to do so, I am so uninterested, I am a disappointment to her.”
“You can afford to be uninterested with those curls. I, however, can not, so I will be over on Friday. If she is as good as you say she is, I may steal her to come to London with me.”
“I wish you were not going to London,” Roseen said, somewhat wistfully and Maria laughed.
“Well you will just have to make the most of me while I am still here - and I you. Would you think it too soon to call me Maria?”
“No. And please call me Roseen. I always feel immediately better if people use my name.”
“Did you tell the delectable Captain Kelly that?”
“I didn’t need to,” Roseen said and Maria shook her head.
“When I have some time I am going to give some thought to you and Captain Kelly.”
“Maria, please don’t.”
“You cannot tell me what to think, my sweet. Don’t worry, I will not do anything. But it seems to me ridiculous that two people who were so obviously in love…”
“Maria, I cannot talk about it.”
“I don’t suppose he can either. Do you know, I was so envious of you that it hurt. Not of the captain particularly, although he did have an astonishing smile. But that you had managed to achieve what I wanted without the slightest effort. I even tried to spoil your chances a little - something of which I am very much ashamed by the way. But he was a lost man. Very well, I’ve no wish to hurt you so I will be silent. But don’t give up, Roseen. I don’t think he is going to rush into marriage with anybody else. And as for you…”
“As for me, it is well known there isn’t a man on the island who would have me,” Roseen said, and they were laughing, something she realised that she had not done for a very long time.
She was thinking about Maria Quayle the following week as she rode over to Castletown. They had spent a good deal of time together during that week and Roseen acknowledged that it had been good for her to be around a girl of her own age. She had always thought Maria very vain and full of self-importance, but she was beginning to realise that she was not the only one to put on an act when she was unsure. She would never have half the blonde girl’s self-assurance, but she suspected that Maria too was enjoying spending time with a girl who felt no need to outshine her.
A voice hailed her and Roseen reined in and waited as a small donkey cart, loaded with fishing nets, rumbled up towards her.
“Roseen Crellin, what are you doing out here looking so fine in those fancy clothes,” the driver said in a strong Manx accent and Roseen grinned and responded in the same tone.
“Illiam Kissack, what are you doing in that cart smelling like a gone off kipper and talking to me like the twelve year old you know I’m not.”
Kissack, a short solid fisherman of thirty or so chuckled and Roseen brought Bridget round to walk beside the mule cart. “Wouldn’t be doing it if your Da could hear me, Miss Crellin,” he said.
“Oh cut line, Illiam. Where are you off to?”
“Down to try my new boat,” the man said. “Bought her off old Jacky Cregeen’s wife.”
“Has Jacky died?” Roseen asked. “I’d not heard.”
“No, but he’s gone daft with age. Childish, like. Can’t find his way to the privy let alone run a fishing boat.”
“And where did you get that kind of money?” Roseen asked and her childhood friend grinned.
“Savings,” he said.
“Well I hope it was, Illiam, because if you ge
t caught smuggling they’ll hang you for it, there’s a war on and they’re treating smugglers as spies these days.”
“How do you know that?”
“A friend told me,” Roseen said firmly. “Mind if I come and look at her? I can leave Bridget at the Inn.”
“Leave her with old Paddy at the boatyard, it’s where I’m leaving Milly here.”
“Do you have a crew? How big is she?”
“Twelve tons. I’ll be taking out a crew of eight when we start fishing, probably won’t do that until next week. I’ve got my two brothers, Billy Kneale and the Kinvig boys and then a couple of lads you don’t know from Peel Town. Been doing repairs and painting her for a week or two. There’s just the five of us taking her out this afternoon. Not to fish, obviously, not at this time of the day, but just for a trial run. I can see what else she needs and finish any repairs then sail her round to Peel Town next week.” Kissack eyed her then grinned. “Why don’t you come with us? Could do with an extra hand.”
Roseen laughed. “I wish I could,” she said. “I miss those days. But my Da would have a fit. He’s only just started letting me out alone again.”
“What you been doing, Rosie?” Kissack asked, amused.
“Oh - not behaving like a respectable girl, I suppose. There was a marriage he wanted me to make and I didn’t. Two actually. I’m not much good at being a lady, Illiam.”
“You never were. Bloody useful deck hand, mind. Come on. Nobody need know, you can borrow some slops from my boat shed, I’ve always got spare clothes in there. We’ll take a run up towards Douglas for a couple of hours then tack back round and you’ll be home before supper. You’ll enjoy it, it’ll put some colour in those cheeks, you’re too pale.”
“You should ask Finlo,” Roseen said, and Kissack snorted.
“Finlo is too high and mighty for the likes of us now, lass, he hob nobs with the gentry and looks down his nose at the humble fisher folk.”
“Between you and I, Illiam, Finlo is too high and mighty for me as well,” Roseen said confidingly and he shouted with laughter.