Page 152 of The King's Man
Thamsine smiled. ‘The reasons Kit married me are long and complicated, Lucy, and I have no intention of sharing them with you.’
Lucy’s lower lip trembled. ‘You know he would have been a Viscount. I would have had his title.’
‘Instead, you have ended up penniless and pregnant and beholden to a man who I know is a monster. There is a just God after all.’
The pistol shook. ‘You don’t understand, Thamsine. Ambrose and I … ’
‘ … are birds of a feather, Lucy. Kit would never have married you and you know it.’
Tears welled in Lucy’s eyes and she took one hand off the pistol to dash them away. It occurred to Thamsine at that moment that Lucy may actually have loved Kit, but she could find no pity in her heart for this woman who had betrayed her to Ambrose Morton and stood by while he had beaten and crippled Kit. No, Lucy had got the reward she so richly deserved.
‘Just take the coin and go,’ Thamsine said. ‘I want you both gone from my house.’
Lucy yawned. ‘I’m tired, Thamsine. Pregnancy does that, but then I suppose you wouldn’t know.’
The smugness in her tone and the way her hand rested on the swell of her stomach made Thamsine turn away. The thought of this woman giving birth to Kit’s child sickened her.
Lucy jerked the heavy pistol. ‘Pick up the coin.’
Thamsine complied and they returned to the parlour. No one appeared to have moved. Roger sat with his arms around his two terrified children. Annie huddled at his feet, her thin arms wrapped around her knees, rocking herself and mumbling. Ambrose sprawled in his chair, the pistol in his hand.
Thamsine set the money bags down beside him. ‘That’s all I have. Take it and get out.’
Ambrose glanced at the windows, where a heavy squall lashed against the glass.
‘You seem anxious to be rid of us, Thamsine. As it is, you may have noticed the weather outside is vile. I have no intention of going anywhere tonight. The coach horses will take us no further and you are forgetting your skills as a hostess. I want food. Lucy?’
Ambrose tossed Lucy one of the keys. ‘Go and find the cook and get him to make some food.’
Lucy glanced at a chair. ‘Ambrose, I’m exhausted. I want to rest … ’
‘You’ll get rest, I promise,’ he said. ‘Food first.’
With the sigh of a pregnant woman, Lucy lifted the heavy pistol again and left the room. Ambrose turned the pistol he held on Thamsine.
‘Play for me, Thamsine, like you used to.’
‘I hardly think … ’ Thamsine began but saw his fingers tighten on the pistol. ‘Very well. Anything in particular?’
‘Something cheerful, I think,’ he replied. ‘And you … ’ The pistol turned on Rebecca. ‘ … you can dance for me.’
‘No.’ Roger’s arm tightened on his daughter.
‘I don’t know how to dance.’ Rebecca said in a small voice.
‘Oh yes, of course. Puritans. Annie will show you, won’t you, Annie?’
Annie looked up, hope shining in her eyes. ‘’Brose?’
‘Dance for me, Annie. You remember how you used to dance?’
She nodded and stood up, straightening her skirts. Thamsine began to play a little country jig and Annie responded, moving in her own unintelligible way to the music.
‘Dance with your friend, Annie.’ Morton indicated Rebecca and Annie took the girl’s hands, leading her in a hopping dance that took them around the room.
Morton laughed. It sounded almost an avuncular, jovial laugh as if he genuinely enjoyed watching his sister.
The dancing continued until Lucy, labouring under a tray loaded with dishes, entered through the door. She set the tray down on the table and placed a bowl of soup and a plate of cold mutton before Morton.
