Betrothed To Danger (3) “I shall walk with you then. Where do you wish to go?” Miss Taylor did not take his arm and walked on ahead of him, angry at him. After a few minutes she turned and saw him speaking to the driver of his carriage. Content that he would now be leaving, she strolled on but soon heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Mr Roberts, steadily gaining on her. “There now. I have sent away my carriage so I must walk with you. Would you not slow down? It I most unladylike of you to hurry so.” She stopped and waited for him to catch up with her. “Were you not going the other way in your carriage? You have already been this way. Why now do you follow me along the path you have already travelled? Is it so urgent a matter you wish to speak to me with, that you must contradict yourself?” Mr Roberts laughed merrily, and Miss Taylor turned away, unwilling to even look at him, look at the fair facade he held in front of his ghastly nature. He caught up with her and grabbed her arm. She twisted around and drew her arm protectively toward her, outraged. She went to remove his hand but he rejected her struggles and instead took her hand in his and tutted, smiling mockingly at her. “Oh Miss Taylor. You must not be so aggressive. Would you be so afraid of a mere walk with me?” “I would not Mr Roberts.” “Good. Then I am sure we will have lots to talk about. How is my fiancée?” He smiled at her almost pleasantly and Miss Taylor stopped struggling and let him guide her along the path, unable to protest, realising it was useless. They walked beside hedges and trees, Mr Roberts speaking all the while. A farmer looked up from his work. He knew Miss Taylor; she regularly paid him visits and he saw her being propelled against her will along the road and looking very dispirited. He paced over to them to find out what was going on. On seeing this, Mr Roberts stopped talking and groaned as if the mere thought of a lower class man coming near him was unthinkable. On hearing this, Miss Taylor looked up from the floor and glanced behind her. She saw her old friend and her eyes lit up, hoping he would rid her of this man. The farmer noticed her eyes flashing in the sun and saw this as a cue to walk up to her. As he did, he saw the man beside her put his arm around her shoulders and the light in her eyes flickered and died as she turned around regretfully. He was not a gentleman. He was a man of principles and if he didn’t like something, he would demand to know why it wasn’t satisfactory and he didn’t like what was taking place in front of him. He marched up to the man who was considerably taller than himself and demanded to know why he was walking with a young lady that obviously wasn’t happy with his being there. Mr Roberts released Miss Taylor who hurriedly stepped out of his grip and leant against a nearby tree, smiling gratefully at the farmer. The farmer however wasn’t finished and he stood in front of Mr Roberts with his arms folded. Mr Roberts on the other hand looked at the small man facing him and gave him a withering look. “What is your name?” “Mr Jones Sir.” “And do you work here? On this farm?” “Yes sir I do and I am proud of my farm. I get a good income from my crops and I’m sure the food on your table of a night came from a farm like mine if not from mine.” “Indeed. Well, what is your fascination with my walk?” “I have no fascination sir. I simply feel you were holding that there lady in cruel manner, and she didn’t enjoy your company. I merely wondered why you did not release her from your grasp when she clearly wanted to walk alone.” “We were having a pleasant talk. She contributed to the conversation. She may have preferred to walk alone, but she was happy enough with me. And at least with me she would not have been bothered by unpleasant folk that I hear live in these parts of town. Is that not correct Miss Taylor?” Miss Taylor fixed him with a penetrating stare and refused to answer him. Slightly bemused at this reply, Mr Roberts looked back at the old farmer in front of him who was looking satisfied that he had proven his point. Mr Roberts glared at him and stalked off leaving Miss Taylor with the farmer, who she smiled at gratefully before proceeding to town. A few minutes later, Miss Taylor had resumed her walk and was wandering merrily, singing. On the turn she had to take to town, Mr Roberts waited and she stopped abruptly, hoping he hadn’t seen her yet. He sauntered over to her and as he drew level with her, he turned and walked the way she went, levelling his pace with hers. “Has that petty farmer left you be now?” “Mr Jones is a well bred man who is very friendly to those friendly to him.” “I doubt that.” Miss Taylor ignored that remark and walked on, aware that he was watching her intently. She made it a few more steps before Mr Roberts caught her arm again. “Why do you insist on walking away from me? I am no monster. Can we not have a pleasant walk? Look now, we are nearly at the town now. See that your petty stubbornness has wasted both of our time?” “My petty stubbornness would only have wasted my time if I had wanted to talk to you and couldn’t because of my stubbornness, then perhaps I would have been wasting my time. But as the fact remains that I do not wish to speak with you any longer than it is necessary to be polite, no want of conversation with you has been wasted, and therefore, none of my time has been wasting except in making I clear I do not want your company.” Mr Roberts looked as though he would have argued with her but he had stopped, looking unbelievingly over her shoulder. A young man of about twenty, stood behind her with his hands in his pockets and a small bag hanging over his shoulder. He was watching Mr Roberts with an expectant sort of protectiveness about himself, not willing to turn away lest he be shown a coward, but not wishing to move any closer than need be. As the scene ahead of him was blocking the route to the town, it was plainly obvious why he just stood and watched them though it still bothered Mr Roberts. “Hello there? What is your name?” “Will. Is there a problem?” “No problem at all Will. You live in this town?” “Yes and I would like to get to my home if you and the lady would kindly move please.” Mr Roberts didn’t move, but instead stood staring at him for a few minutes as though trying to determine who the boy was. Miss Taylor looked between one and the other. Each man stood looking at each other. Each had their own protectiveness about them she noticed, and the same glow of certainty in their eyes. It struck her how similar the pair were, but it seemed unlikely they had met before this as they still looked like strangers to one another. Eager to discontinue the heavy silence, Miss Taylor looked at Mr Roberts expectantly. Upon noticing this, Mr Roberts hastily topped his hat to Miss Taylor and nodded at Will after fixing him with another bemused stare. “Good-day Mr Roberts.” Miss Taylor called to his departing back, glad he was leaving at last. She turned to thank the man for giving her an excuse to send him away, but he had already left. She caught up with him as he wasn’t walking fast and said what she wished to say before pausing, waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t say anything, she repeated her thanks and again, the young man refused to hear her. Outraged, she tapped him on the shoulder and turned him round quite impolitely she realised afterwards. “I thank-you for your gratitude but it was not an intended plan I assure you, please do not bother me.” “Well! From a man like you I expected nothing less than politeness. You say you are from the town? You must be lying as no man from that town, kindly folk they are you know, could possibly produce such offspring.” “You are correct Miss. Not one person in that town is my mother or my father for my mother died when I was very young and,” he hesitated, “and my father could not bring me up on his own.” “Then I am truly sorry Sir, but that is no reason to treat a lady who is purely being polite in such a manner. I demand your apologies at once. And what is your name incidentally?” “My name is Will.” “I knew that of course but do you not have a second name? It is most extraordinary to call a man such as yourself by his Christian name.” “I suppose I do not have a last name. I gave that up when I came to live here. I work at the clothes shop in the town where Mr Hill, the owner of the shop cares for me. For him, I am truly grateful. When I was abandoned when I was young, he took me in and raised me as his own. I apologise for my rudeness to you kindly Miss, but, well to be entirely honest I was having a bad day. And your thanks to me are not necessary I assure you. I do not wish to see a lady go out of her way to thank me for an act of excellence that was purely out of my being in the right place at the right time.” Miss Taylor was beginning to understand and enjoy this man’s company, rude as he appeared. He seemed the complete opposite to Mr Roberts who was all charm and grace on the outside but had a cruel and cold heart beneath his chest. This man, Will, was not afraid to speak his mind or show his anger toward people, giving a cruel and unjust approach but if one took the time to be polite to him and got to be acquainted with him, a kind figure and lonely boy was seen between his tough behaviour. Will had instantly warmed to her too though her choice in company seemed ill chosen. She seemed to be someone like him, who would speak her mind. She reminded him of Emma. That was a joy to know and he instantly trusted her, though he was not sure why. “You say you work in the clothes shop? I wonder, would you accompany me there? I am in need of a new bonnet.” “Certainly, Miss. Miss what may I ask?” “Oh of course forgive me, Miss Taylor.” “Miss Taylor? I don’t suppose you live with a Miss Emma do you?” “Emma? Why yes. She is my pupil. Might I ask how you have come about knowing her?” “I met her by the bridge, not many days back.” “You did? Did you meet up again, say yesterday?” “We did. She came to my shop and we talked of – ah but I think I must not say.” “Why mustn’t you Will?” “Well, I assumed you knew she had met up with me but on your face was an expression of surprise, not shown by people who already know. Am I correct?” Miss Taylor looked down slightly unnerved by this man. It thoroughly bewildered her that such a man could hold her in his charm without saying very much at all and though she dearly wished to leave him, she found herself thinking she would be lost without his presence. She felt reminded of a feeling she had had before though she could not determine where from and it disturbed her deeply. “I must declare Will, you are unlike any other before you and yet it is clear you are so alarmingly similar in some respects to a gentleman I believe I know, though his face I can not picture. Tell me Will, are you in love with Emma?” Miss Taylor could tell her question and abruptness had shocked Will and she watched as his dark eyes struggled to conceive a suitable answer to such a question. “I believe I am, I know not what other feeling the sickness in my stomach could be. And yet it is strange. I cannot comprehend just exactly what Miss Emma is feeling. She has a startling character that I have yet to understand. She can be so affectionate and inviting when I first see her, but she subsequently is cold, unwelcoming and reserved. It is quite distressing. I suppose that is what makes me love her so. She is unlike any other female I have yet to meet though you and her are indeed quite similar in many ways.” “I may take that as a compliment if indeed it was intended as one. But alas, now my question has been answered I simply must return home. My mistress most probably expected me home long ago, it was so unlike me to forget the time so.” “But I was under the impression you were to accompany me to the clothes shop. I would be quite happy to point out any particularly amiable clothes.” “Indeed your kindness is undeniable and I will certainly think of you again. It is true I did intend to got to the clothes shop but a realized I have no real business there and I was merely putting off the inevitable return home.” “Why would you not wish to go?”
Copyright © 2003 Emma Trew |