He was grinding himself against her, groaning, an occasional grunt, nearly beside him, her smacks against his ears not making a dent. He panted against her closed mouth, “Camilla, please, accept me, I must have you, I will have you, don’t you see? I must, I have no choice, you have no choice.” He ground his mouth against hers, forcing hers open and his tongue was in her mouth.
She tried to bite him, but he was fast. Suddenly, he yelled. Aunt Deveraux was standing over him hitting him with her griffin-head walking stick.Whap, whap—She wasn’t going to smack him in the head, she wasn’t stupid, she couldn’t kill him, but the temptation was great. She shouted even louder than her normal speaking voice, “YOU YOUNG LOUT!MISCREANT! YOU HAVE NO FINESSE, NOTHING TO RECOMMEND YOU AS A LOVER! YOU ARE A DISGRACE, PILCHERGAYSON. YOU NEVER TAKE A YOUNG LADY AGAINST HER WILL, ESPECIALLY ON THE GRASS WHEN IT WOULD RUIN HER GOWN, YOU BLOODY NITBRAIN, REMOVE YOURSELF NOW! GET OFF HER NOW!”
Whap, whapon his arms and back, excellent cane cracks to his buttocks. He groaned, rolled off Cam onto his side, curled up, covered his head. “Please, please, stop. You’re killing me! I didn’t do anything. I only wanted to convince her to marry me, I—”
“HA! STOP YOUR WHINING, YOU PATHETIC LITTLE WORM! ATTACKMY PRECIOUS NIECE, WOULD YOU! IBELIEVED YOU A GENTLEMAN, MORE FOOL I.”
Pilcher tried to get to his hands and knees to crawl away, but Finch struck a poker against his back. “Don’t you try to creep away, you blank-brained knave, or I’ll lay my lovely poker again on your back and next time, with greater vigor.”
Pilcher stopped cold, fell again onto his side, moaned. He wasn’t about to move.
Finch walked to Lady Deveraux, said slowly right in her face, admiration clear in his voice, “My brave lady, I see you do not need my assistance, but would you like me to thwack him again with the poker?”
“MAYHAP IN A MOMENT, FINCH, LET US SEE WHAT THE LITTLE WORM DOES. HA, NOT ALTOGETHER STUPID, THE LITTLE WORM. HE ISN’T GOING TO MOVE.”
Cam looked up at her aunt, her lovely powdered face red with rage. She rolled up to her feet, gave her aunt a bow. “Aunt, you are magnificent.”
“SPEAK UP, GIRL, DON’T WHISPER! EVEN THOUGH YOU ARE STANDING AND YOU GAVE ME A LOVELY BOW—I AM MAGNIFICENT, YOU SAY?WELL, THIS SCOUNDREL MUST THINK SO. FINCH!YOU MAY REMOVE THIS ARSE-BRAIN. WAIT, FIRST HE WILL PROMISE NOT EVER TO COME NEAR MY PRECIOUSCAMILLA OR I WILL SEE HE’S GOT TWO BROKEN LEGS. DO YOU UNDERSTAND, YOU BUGGERING LITTLE TURNIP? NOW YOU MAY RISE.”
Pilcher staggered to his feet. His back hurt, his butt hurt, he was humiliated, but at least he was still alive. “My lady, I swear I’ll never come near her again, not that I ever wanted to in the first place.”
Finch nudged Pilcher in the ribs with the poker. “See you keep your word or her ladyship will break your legs and I will break your head. Now, get you gone, you gutless nettle, else I will hit you again with the poker for attacking myhelpless young lady, well, not quite so helpless. You are no longer welcome in our peace-loving household.”
Pilcher tried to pull forth a bit of his beleaguered manhood and shook his fist at them. “You are vicious, both of you!” He yelled at Finch, “And you are a mere servant, and you dare to have the gall to strike me?”
Finch grinned. “I am granted gall by birth and by her ladyship.”
Pilcher looked at Cam, standing, her hand against an oak tree, her hair out of its braids, straggling around her shoulders, staring at him from behind crooked glasses. He actually hissed, like a snake. “As for you, Camilla Rohman, you’re not a lady, and just look at her, wearing glasses. I don’t care how great your dowry is, I will not marry you even if you beg me. I never wanted to marry you.” He waved his fist at her, turned, tried to walk straight down the path leading to the garden gate but couldn’t hide a limp.
“I’M GOING TO TELL YOUR FATHER WHAT YOU’VE DONE, YOU YOUNG LOUT!”
Pilcher paused, one hand on the gate, looked back at them over his shoulder. “It was my father’s bloody idea. He ordered me to do whatever was necessary to get her to accept me. He said I could lock you away and forget about you once we were wedded. But I didn’t want to marry you, you’re too mouthy, you never appreciated me, deferred to me, you never gave me respect. I didn’t care about your bloody groats, but he did. Told me my brother needed funds for his lifestyle in London, to impress all those idiots in government, to make all the Society ladies flock to his side and he could have his pick and marry a rich one, like you.
“Curse him, my brother, not my poor father who needs money.” He waved his fist at Aunt Deveraux. “And you’re nothing but a crazy deaf vicious old bat!”
The gate slammed behind him.
CHAPTER 32
Aunt Deveraux looked after him, said in a thoughtful voice, “IMUST SAYPILCHER DID LEAVE WITH A GOOD PARTING LINE. I RATHER THINK HIS FATHER MIGHT TAKE ANOTHER POKER TO HIM FOR FAILING TO NAB YOU AND YOUR GROATS, MY DEAR, FOR HIS FATUOUS BROTHER.”
Finch patted Cam’s arm. “Are you all right?”
“My mouth is a bit bruised. Pilcher has sharp teeth. My scalp hurts from him yanking on my braids, but otherwise—” She gave them a huge smile. “I feel perfectly splendid.” She pushed her hair out of her face, hugged her aunt, pulled back, kissed her, grinned, and like Finch, said slowly right in her face, “You are a mighty warrior, my lady. Would you marry me since Pilcher has left me and my groats in the dirt?”
Her aunt patted her cheek. “ALAS, DEAREST ONE, IT WOULD NOT BE THE DONE THING. ONE CANNOT LIVE BY LIVELY WIT ALONE. FINCH! LOVELY BLOWS WITH THE POKER, MADE HIM VASTLY SORRY. BUT I WONDER WHY DID HE ACT SO SUDDENLY? I’VE KNOWN HIS FATHER FOR YEARS, HE’S A PALTRY SORT, ALWAYS WHINING. HE WILL DOUBTLESS CLAIMPILCHER IS INCOMPETENT. AS FOR THE MONEY BEING FOR HIS SONSYDNEY, FOR HIS POLITICAL CAREER AND IMPRESSING THE RIGHT PEOPLE, THAT LIEWON’T FLOAT. AH, I SEE NOW—OLD NICKLEBY HAS FINALLY LOST ALL HIS POOR WIFE’S MONEY AND HE WANTS YOURS AND THUSPILCHER TRIED TO FORCE YOU TO WED HIM. HMM, I SHALL HAVE TO CONSIDER WHAT PUNISHMENT TO METE OUT. IMAY HAVE HIM BANISHED FROM THE TEA ROOM, THAT WOULD BURN HIS FATHER’S SELFISH BRAIN.
“NOW, CHILDREN, WE WILL RESTORE OURSELVES WITH A LOVELY CUP OF TEA. FINCH, DO TELLTURTLE TO BRING FRESH-BAKED SCONES WITH THE TEA TO CALM OUR JANGLED NERVES. AND DEAR BOY, BRING YOUR POKER, KEEP IT CLOSE. YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN ANOTHER MISCREANT WILL TRY TO TRIFLE WITH POOR LITTLECAMILLA.”
The old lady patted her skirts, threw her head back and marched through the gardens to the back door, swinging her cane. Was she whistling? No, impossible, if she were whistling the whole neighborhood would hear her.
Cam said in a meditative voice to Finch, “I wonder if she’s done this before, say fifty years ago, when an unwanted suiter tried to force himself on her.”
Finch pondered this. “I wouldn’t be at all surprised,” he said, looking after her, and added with a smile, “She is such a precious old relic, stout of heart, always ready to protect the ones she loves.”
Cam rotated her shoulders, stretched, looked at the grass stains on her skirts. “Finch, I did do something to Pilcher. I bit his tongue but good.”
“It appears so, my lady, and not a bad thing either. He’ll suffer for another several days, an excellent lesson.”
