‘She is afraid,’ William said, continuing to hold Albert’s hands behind his back. ‘If you hadn’t have come, she would be on her way to her family in York. To be safe and free. You have no right to order them around after what you’ve done. The audacity to even show your face is astounding.’
‘You have to let me go sometime. And when you do, I will fight you to the death, and then I will take my wife and child home,’ Albert spat, still struggling.
William laughed.
‘Do you think I am afraid of you?’ he asked.
‘As you wish.’ William released Albert, and turned to catch my eye.
I knew, in that moment, what he was going to do, and I screamed.
‘William, no!’ I cried, but William smiled.
‘I love you, Tegan Penrose,’ he said. It was a quiet, pure moment, where his words hung in the air like a charm.
Then, he drove his fist into Albert Trevarron’s face.
THIRTY-ONE
Sometimes, in Cornwall, a storm would roll in, out of a clear day. You couldn’t always predict them; Cornwall had its own weather system, it seemed, and a storm could come when you least expected it.
Being at the edge of the country sometimes felt like being at the edge of the world, especially when you stood on the cliffs, looking out to sea. I had always loved standing on the island at Tintagel Head, along the coast, gazing out to the grey-blue-green sea, the high tides tipped with white; it was calming for my often busy mind to look onto such a wide and unbroken horizon.
At any place along the coast, you could stand and watch storms come in. Grey clouds would darken and fly towards the land like ancient dragons. Their unpredictability contributed to the sense of mystery Cornwall was renowned for.
We had escaped from Trevarron House that night under the cover of darkness, and through an underground tunnel, so I had no idea what the weather was doing that evening. Nor was I interested: our aim had been to get Lady Hermione and Violet out of the house, and we’d succeeded.
However, now, as William’s fist met Albert’s jaw, the crack of it resonated against a roll of thunder. As if his violence had sparkedsomething in the heavens, rain suddenly began hitting the ground, and there was a flash of lightning.
Grey clouds had rolled in overhead, hunched low: as if the sky itself paused to watch the two Trevarrons facing each other.
William’s chest rose with tight, angry breaths. Though he was dressed in the clothes of a commoner, his regal bearing wasn’t something he could ever change. He towered over Albert Trevarron, who, though he was wrapped in a fine wool coat, his beard trimmed neatly and his boots shining, still possessed few of William’s finer features. I thought that Albert had more of the Favisham look than the Trevarron, though he had dark hair and eyes like William.
Albert grabbed a leather whip from the front of his carriage and brandished it at William. His expression was a sneer.
‘You will pay for that,’ Albert said, his hand going to his jaw. ‘How dare you strike me? I am Lord of Trevarron!’
William stepped closer to him and stared aggressively in his eyes. ‘You do not deserve the title. The honour of your name was ruined the moment you raised a hand against your wife and child.’
Albert brought the whip downward, striking William’s shoulder with a crack. William staggered backwards, and the fight began.
William lunged, grabbing the whip before Albert could pull it back. The two grappled, mud churning under their boots as the thunder rolled overhead and the rain pelted us; it was hail, now: huge, hard bullets. Aunt Bill, Nancy, Violet and Hermione ran for shelter in the doorway of the cottage.
Albert wrenched the whip back from William’s hands and cracked it again, but William ducked, driving his shoulder into Albert’s midsection and slamming him into the cottage wall. Albert cursed through clenched teeth.
However, he recovered fast, faster than I expected for a man that wasn’t as in shape as William. William was as tough and hard as stone. He’d spent a lifetime either in the Navy or fighting men with his bare hands in alehouses. I presumed that Albert Trevarronhad mostly spent his days drinking and stuffing his face with food when he wasn’t lounging around in the House of Lords or beating his wife and child.
Albert stood up, fury in his eyes. He went for the whip which had fallen to the ground, but William kicked it down the lane where neither of them could reach it.
‘Fight like a man, god damn you,’ he snarled. ‘Let’s see how good a fighter you are when it’s not a woman or a child you’re using your fists on.’
He aimed another hard punch at Albert’s face. Albert reeled, blood blossoming from a split lip.
‘I won’t let you hurt them again,’ William said, in a low voice. He began attacking Albert, punching his torso.
Without warning, Albert lunged at William and hammered a couple of blows to William’s ribs.
‘No!’ Lady Hermione screamed and ran to William. ‘Albert! I have said I will go with you. Let this man go. He was only trying to help me.’
