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“They werenoturchins,” she said sharply. She straightened her body, as if to appear taller, despite the fact that he towered over her diminutive frame. She had courage which commanded respect. Though he suspected she was out for his blood, not his respect.
“I’m Alice Trelawney, from Pengarron,” she said, “and you have terrorized my daughter.”
“Then she shouldn’t have trespassed on my estate,” he growled.
“She was looking for her dog! Is that a crime?”
“A man should be able to live his life in peace, if he wishes it,” he said. “Protecting one’s property is not a crime, either.”
“And that justifies terrorizing two innocent children with a gun?”
“I don’t carry a gun,” he replied. “I may have warded them off with my cane…”
“You threatened to strangle my daughter’s dog—a harmless little creature that did nothing more than wander onto the land of an ogre. What manner of man treats innocents so abominably—and resorts to the language of the gutter?”
He shook his head. He may have used one or two salty words this afternoon, but they were nothing compared to the taunts he endured from the villagers.
Yet the woman standing in his hallway was clearly a woman of breeding. And despite the spark of fear in her eyes, she had been driven by the urge to protect her daughter. Was that not evidence of character? To face an enemy stronger than yourself in defense of an innocent?
Andhewas the enemy. He was everyone’s enemy. A man who’d killed his wife and unborn child through neglect, and who was plagued by her ghost almost every night.
“Perhaps I made a mistake regarding your daughter,” he said.
“You’ve done more than that,” she replied. “You may think it makes you a man to threaten children, but it doesn’t. It makes you a coward. But I warn you, sir, you’re not the only one capable of making threats.”
“Do your worst, madam,” he said. “But I’d thank you to tell your daughter not to come near here again. I do not welcome visitors.”
“And I’ll thank you to leave her alone,” she replied. “If I hear that you have said so much as a cross word to her again, so help me God, I’ll make you regret it for the rest of your life. Have I made myself clear?”
“Perfectly.”
“Then I’ll take my leave,” she said. “I shan’t wish you good day. You are not deserving of such consideration. If I were to use the same profanities which you see fit to utter in front of children, I’d say that I hope you rot in hell.”
With that, she turned her back on him and strode out of the house and retreated down the drive, the lamp swinging from side to side in the dark with her determined gait. Only when it had disappeared, did he close the door.
He’d heard of Mr. Trelawney, of course. Renowned businessman, born and bred in Cornwall, loved by the locals. And the man’s wife—equally loved for her kind and gentle nature. Mrs. Bramwell often raved about them.
And, in seeing her fierce little face and iron will, driven by her defense of a loved one, he could see why she was so beloved. Anger had filled her expression, but he’d noticed kindness, too.
In happier times, he might have sought out her friendship, and that of her husband. But he knew that, as soon as she knew what he’d done, as soon as the gossips told her his story, she would spurn him like everyone else.
He longed to seek refuge in the kindness of her eyes, but it was better to remain alone.
