choice.” How dare he become
the tyrant? “Time you left, Stuart.”
“You little bitch.” He stood up
and pulled on her other arm as well as gripping the hand that held the angel so
tight she’d have bruises.
Unfortunately, the wrong sort
of bruises, she thought semi-hysterically now.
“I spent over three months
pandering to you and your silly, old-fashioned ways. Now you won’t even look at
me. That stupid ornament has more of your attention than me? No
way.”
He grabbed her shoulders and
shook her. Angie knew just how her rag doll had felt when Bryan Balfour had
pinched it and teased her by throwing the doll in the ai r .
Stuart pushed her away and she
felt herself falling. The wall was way too close and her head wouldn’t miss it.
Angie hit the wall, and the
angel almost fell out of her hands.
Almost…
****
“My Lady?” The voice was timid, and broke
into Angie’s reverie. “My Lady, open your eyes.”
She moved her eyelids upward
slowly and winced. Her head thumped worse than the one and only time she’d been
drunk. Little—no, big—men with hammers were making horseshoes or something and
using her skull for practice. “What happened?”
The young girl who stood in
front of her in a long fr ock and what looked like a mobcap opened her
eyes wide. “You doesn’t remember?” The soft voice and
her unusual speech pattern sounded strange. “Not at all? Ohh er I needs to get His Lordship and the doctor.”
“Not yet.” Get
who? “Tell me.”
The girl looked worried but
bobbed her head in agreement. “Well, you hit your head, My Lady.” Now Angie
realized her voice had an old-fashioned country burr to it that she couldn’t
place. “All acos of some stranger trying to co …coerce you like.” She stumbled over her words. “We were
about to go out, the master had agreed, acos he were
sorting things for us going to the country tomorrer .
Then that monster appeared. He took a hold of you on the pavement outside. Said
you shouldn’t be here and to go with him. He grabbed you, and when you pulled
away, you slipped and bashed your head on the bottom step. Luckily Mr. Perry
saw what was going on and planted him one.”
“Pardon?” His Lordship? Mr. Perry? Who is she? Where
am I? Even though she had the headache from hell, that stupid thought made
Angie inwardly snigger. Then she really looked at the worried expression on the
face of the young girl in front of her and blinked. Really, who is she and what the hell is she wearing? It looked like
some sort of sack dress, low waisted and in a drab grey worsted wool. It was hideous. The sort of thing
she’d seen in photos of her gran’s hippie days. So how can I remember gran and her hippieness and nothing else? Angie mulled over what the young girl had said.
“Mr. Perry did?” Thank you, Mr. P., whoever you are. How on
earth do I find out what’s going on without them sending for the men in white
coats to take me away?
“Yes, My Lady. He was about to
close the door behind us when that, that nasty, horrid, ruffian of a man
grabbed you. Well, you know Mr. Perry was a pugilist when he was younger, so
that villain got it in the face and the ballocks. Begging
your pardon, My Lady. ”
I do? And what is it with this My Lady stuff ?
“Ah, I’ll have to thank him,”
Angie said cautiously. “Now, perhaps you should go and get His Lordship.” Or whoever you need to get. And let me
sleep. She closed her eyes again. It could have been a minute or a second
before she was slapped none too gently on the cheek.
“Angelina, wake up now.” The
voice demanded obedience, and she didn’t want to obey. “Do it now. Remember
what I am.”
“Bully.” She was sure of that.
“ G’way . Tired. Headache. Want to sleep.”
“My Lady, you cannot.” That was
a different voice. Less authoritarian, more kindly, but still
with a hint of steel. “You must open your eyes and let us see how you
are.”
If she had the energy she would
have shaken
the tyrant? “Time you left, Stuart.”
“You little bitch.” He stood up
and pulled on her other arm as well as gripping the hand that held the angel so
tight she’d have bruises.
Unfortunately, the wrong sort
of bruises, she thought semi-hysterically now.
“I spent over three months
pandering to you and your silly, old-fashioned ways. Now you won’t even look at
me. That stupid ornament has more of your attention than me? No
way.”
He grabbed her shoulders and
shook her. Angie knew just how her rag doll had felt when Bryan Balfour had
pinched it and teased her by throwing the doll in the ai r .
Stuart pushed her away and she
felt herself falling. The wall was way too close and her head wouldn’t miss it.
Angie hit the wall, and the
angel almost fell out of her hands.
Almost…
****
“My Lady?” The voice was timid, and broke
into Angie’s reverie. “My Lady, open your eyes.”
She moved her eyelids upward
slowly and winced. Her head thumped worse than the one and only time she’d been
drunk. Little—no, big—men with hammers were making horseshoes or something and
using her skull for practice. “What happened?”
The young girl who stood in
front of her in a long fr ock and what looked like a mobcap opened her
eyes wide. “You doesn’t remember?” The soft voice and
her unusual speech pattern sounded strange. “Not at all? Ohh er I needs to get His Lordship and the doctor.”
“Not yet.” Get
who? “Tell me.”
The girl looked worried but
bobbed her head in agreement. “Well, you hit your head, My Lady.” Now Angie
realized her voice had an old-fashioned country burr to it that she couldn’t
place. “All acos of some stranger trying to co …coerce you like.” She stumbled over her words. “We were
about to go out, the master had agreed, acos he were
sorting things for us going to the country tomorrer .
Then that monster appeared. He took a hold of you on the pavement outside. Said
you shouldn’t be here and to go with him. He grabbed you, and when you pulled
away, you slipped and bashed your head on the bottom step. Luckily Mr. Perry
saw what was going on and planted him one.”
“Pardon?” His Lordship? Mr. Perry? Who is she? Where
am I? Even though she had the headache from hell, that stupid thought made
Angie inwardly snigger. Then she really looked at the worried expression on the
face of the young girl in front of her and blinked. Really, who is she and what the hell is she wearing? It looked like
some sort of sack dress, low waisted and in a drab grey worsted wool. It was hideous. The sort of thing
she’d seen in photos of her gran’s hippie days. So how can I remember gran and her hippieness and nothing else? Angie mulled over what the young girl had said.
“Mr. Perry did?” Thank you, Mr. P., whoever you are. How on
earth do I find out what’s going on without them sending for the men in white
coats to take me away?
“Yes, My Lady. He was about to
close the door behind us when that, that nasty, horrid, ruffian of a man
grabbed you. Well, you know Mr. Perry was a pugilist when he was younger, so
that villain got it in the face and the ballocks. Begging
your pardon, My Lady. ”
I do? And what is it with this My Lady stuff ?
“Ah, I’ll have to thank him,”
Angie said cautiously. “Now, perhaps you should go and get His Lordship.” Or whoever you need to get. And let me
sleep. She closed her eyes again. It could have been a minute or a second
before she was slapped none too gently on the cheek.
“Angelina, wake up now.” The
voice demanded obedience, and she didn’t want to obey. “Do it now. Remember
what I am.”
“Bully.” She was sure of that.
“ G’way . Tired. Headache. Want to sleep.”
“My Lady, you cannot.” That was
a different voice. Less authoritarian, more kindly, but still
with a hint of steel. “You must open your eyes and let us see how you
are.”
If she had the energy she would
have shaken
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