Page 151 of The King's Man
‘’Brose?’ she said.
With his eyes still fixed on Thamsine, he raised his right hand and hit out at Annie, a brutal blow that flung her several feet.
The two girls shrieked and Rebecca ran to Annie’s side.
‘You hurt her!’ she cried.
‘She may be my sister but she betrayed me in the worst way possible. Stop your snivelling, Annie, or I will hit you again.’
In one swift movement, he rose to his feet and grabbed Rebecca’s arm, pulling her away from the sobbing woman-child.
Roger Knott stood up and took a step towards him. ‘Let her go!’
Morton ignored him. He took Rebecca’s chin in his fingers and forced her face upwards.
‘How old are you, child?’
‘Fourteen … ’ Rebecca’s voice faltered.
Thamsine’s blood ran cold. She recognised the hooded, wolfish look in Morton’s eyes. She had seen it before. Roger gave a strangled cry and took a step towards Ambrose, but without even looking at him, Morton picked up one of the pistols and put it to Rachel’s head. ‘Sit down, Knott,’ he snarled.
‘Let her go, Ambrose.’ Lucy sounded bored. ‘She’s far too young.’
‘I like them young,’ Morton said, but he released the frightened girl, who ran to her father, burying her head in his jacket.
Roger put a protective arm around both his girls, drawing them close.
‘What have you done with the servants?’ Thamsine asked.
‘I’ve locked them up.’
Ambrose toyed with the pistol he held with one hand, while with the other he produced two keys. He placed them on thetable beside the other pistol and looked at his mistress. Lucy struggled to her feet.
‘Thamsine, go with Lucy and fetch the contents of your strongbox.’
Thamsine stood her ground. ‘I’ll not leave this room until I have your word that you will not harm anyone in it.’
Ambrose waved the pistol and gave her a pained look. ‘I told you, I’ve no intention of harming anyone. I just want your money.’
He handed Lucy the second pistol. ‘Here, dearest take this.’
‘Do you even know how to use it?’ Thamsine asked as Lucy stood aside to let her out of the room.
The pistol looked ridiculously large in Lucy’s hands, and it took her both hands to hold it steady. The muzzle wavered and Thamsine considered herself at far more risk of an accidental discharge than a deliberate act.
‘The coin,’ Lucy said.
Thamsine led her into the study and lifted the strongbox out from its hiding place beneath the bricks of the fireplace, opening it with the key she carried at her waist. The month’s rent money and the money from the harvest, maybe eighty pounds in all, were worth the price of her freedom. Lucy took the bags and weighed them in her hand.
‘Is this all?’ Her eyes glittered greedily.
‘Yes, that’s everything.’
‘What about jewellery, silver?’
‘There’s no silver. It all went to the King’s cause, as did the jewellery,’ Thamsine said. ‘I am not as rich as Ambrose supposes.’
Lucy regarded her with cold, narrowed eyes. ‘Why do you suppose Kit Lovell married you? Don’t delude yourself it was for love. He sought wealth.’
