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The guests gasp and whisper amongst themselves. “What’s the matter?” Heath asks coldly. “Is she dead?”
“Dead? Dead!” Mr. Primrose raises red eyes before wailing again. “I hope she’s not dead. Oh, I hope she’s not dead!” he cries.
His servants run forward and try to console him but without success. He thrashes about in their arms, breaking away. Sniffling, his voice shakes. “I’ve been beaten and tortured by the most brutal thug. And now he has my Olivia!” he wails. “My sweet Olivia. Oh, I’m so sorry, Olivia. Please. You must help me get her back. Please, he’ll kill her if I don’t return with his money. If we all put together, we can surely manage to round up three thousand pounds. Please! Don’t let him kill my Olivia.”
The guests groan, and Heath looks at Mr. Primrose in disgust. “Stop embarrassing yourself.” He grabs him by the arm, pulling him up, uncaring when he winces. “I’ve heard about you and your bad debts. You think I don’t know that’s why you promised your daughter to me? But now you go around making false claims to swindle others out of their money? Embarrassing me in the process as they laugh you to scorn and me along with you? Stop this nonsense, right now. You’re going to straighten yourself out, laugh, and tell them it’s a joke.” He tightens his hold on Mr Primrose, staring him down.
Horrified by the way Mr. Primrose’s mouth falls open, he pulls himself out of Heath’s grip. “I never promised you my daughter’s hand. I only entertained the idea. Prove to me that you care about her. That you will be a good choice for her. Give me the money for her release, Lord Everton. Please. Surely, her life must be worth more than a few pounds.”
“A few pounds? A few pounds! That’s all the money I have, and I won’t be giving it to the likes of you. How dare you try to trick me? How evil you are!” Heath raises his fist, and his friend comes to his rescue again, catching it in the air as it moves toward Mr. Primrose’s face.
The man cries for his daughter, harder than any man has ever been known to cry. And with tears sputtering from his mouth, he informs Lord Everton, that if his daughter makes it out of the prison she’s trapped in alive, she’ll never marry someone like him.
Knowing of the announcement he just made publicly and that they’re being watched, Heath drops his fist and tucks it away.
“Mr. Primrose has gotten into a fight with some animals, and the medication he received has caused him to have fantasies. Best he be taken inside to rest, so he can recover. I’d hate for my future father-in-law to have to end up in an asylum.” Heath turns a threatening gaze on the wounded father.
The guests seem to relax, sighing their compassion. Some criticize the old man. But Mr. Primrose isn’t done.
“I’m not lying!” he screams, kicking and punching as a group of his servants gather to pull him away. “Please. No! Let me go! I must get the money! Please. Someone believe me!”
His shaking sobs can be heard all the way back to the entrance of the house when out of nowhere, another horse’s neigh captures the crowd’s attention. Gasping, they all turn to look at the large brown stallion raised up off his front legs. A large white stripe runs from between his ears to his nose. The crowd screams when the horse charges into them. The finest silks rip as they dive out of the way, landing in some spectacular positions which, if it were any other situation, would cause ruin to the women. So many legs and dresses over heads have never been spotted at an event such as this one.
Men cry out in pain as their legs are crushed under the horse’s hooves. Heath’s eyes bulge forward as the stallion marks him as a target.
“Chance!” Mr. Primrose shouts in delight, and the horse’s hooves scratch the grass as it comes to a halt.
Forgetting about Heath, the horse charges toward the house. The servants, in their panic, forget to lock the door in time, allowing this Chance to crash through the house. Screams follow as they scatter. Only a couple of moments later, Mr. Primrose ushers the horse outside. “You silly boy!” He pats his side. “Why did you leave me all alone in the cold?”
Mr. Primrose trembles, but the horse nickers, bumping its nuzzle into the old man who eventually offers up a smile and a head rub. The horse lowers himself, and it’s a sight to behold as he submits to Mr. Primrose, clearly telling him to mount him. So, the old man does, raising himself above all the guests.
“Look,” he starts with a scratchy, wobbling voice. He sniffles. “I know the lot of you might think I’m a lunatic. But I’m not. I need the money to rescue my daughter. If it’s that you can’t all put together and help me, then you can’t value me or my daughter. Therefore, I’m asking you to get the bloody hell out of my garden, just this minute!” he yells. “And you! Heath Everton. Don’t you dare pull something like this again.”
Heath charges toward him, fixing his mouth to whisper something, but Chance bares his teeth, causing the large man to step back, huffing and puffing, all the way home.
One Amused Spectator
Townes
“And what was all that about?” I ask, rounding up my servants who have a lot of explaining to do.
“Mr. Primrose, sir.” The head housekeeper steps forward and bows. “Forgive me, but Lord Everton informed us that you gave him permission, sir.”
“HEinformed you?” I wheeze. “And what authority does he have to inform you?”
“Mr. Primrose. He told us he’d soon be lord of the house, and we needed to follow his orders. Without you here, we just assumed…” the housekeeper explains.
“You just assumed. Well, isn’t that wonderful. If I were expecting company, I would have told you so, either before I left, or by letter. I would’ve told you to make arrangements, but I didn’t. Do you know where I was, while Lord Everton decided to play master of my house?” I yell.
“No, sir. I do…” she stutters.
“Take one good look at me and make your best guess. Do you think I did this to myself? I wasn’t lying about what I told everyone, and how dare you follow orders to carry me inside. I should fire you all on the spot, right this minute!” Things move through my body. I don’t know what they are, but they cause me to shiver.
“We’re so sorry, sir. We didn’t…” The housekeeper opens her mouth again, but I can’t bear it. “Well, I can’t afford to let you go right now, can I? Look at the state of the place. In return for your lapse in judgement, acting on your own assumptions, rather than waiting for my orders, you’ll clean up that mess outside. You’ll scrub the house spotless. Then I might consider making you keep your jobs.”
The head housekeeper clears her throat, lowering her eyes from mine. “Yes, sir.”
She leads the rest of the staff outside, and I pull off these expensive clothes, loaned to me by the beast. I’m tempted to throw them aside, but he made me promise to bring them back to him as good as new. So, I fold the clothes of my enemy and tuck them away neatly. I might even handwash them myself to ensure they aren’t ruined.
