Past Shadows

Part 2: The Meeting

 "Mrs Lucinda Osborne, Sir." The butler was the picture of deference; his eyes downcast, never meeting his master's beady eyed gaze.

  Charles Bracken leant against a white marble fireplace. Lucinda's gaze swept over the bright room, despite its dark decoration and masculine furnishings the light flooded in through the vast, arched windows.

  "Mrs Osborne, please be seated." The mill owner indicated the assortment of seats that graced the elegant room and leaned heavily against the ornate fireplace.

  Lucy inclined her head and sat on the only straight backed chair in the room. She didn't want comfort, her mind needed focus. She forced her gaze away from the understated elegance of the drawing room."Thank you for seeing me Mr Bracken I know you're very busy," increasing your vast fortune on the backs of children and women, her subconscious piped up inconveniently. She gripped the ornate chair arm and hoped her facial expression didn't betray her unspoken thoughts.

Charles' thin mouth smiled in acknowledgment, it didn't reach his cold blue stare, which bored into her gaze, making her look away."So what brings you here Mrs Osborne?"

  "I would like to offer you my services." She cringed as a brief salacious look passed over the mill owner's lined face, still menacing despite the palsy that marred his face.

  "You want to work in my mills, Mrs Osborne?"Charles Bracken's face remained devoid of expression but Lucy sensed he deliberately misunderstood her and enjoyed her discomfort.

  Lucy held onto her temper, just. Her palms bore the marks of her long nails embedded in the soft skin, as she struggled to control her anger. "No, you misunderstand me sir," on purpose no doubt, her mind supplied unhelpfully.

  "Pray enlighten me Madam." Charles eased away from the fireplace and dropped heavily into the leather chair closest to the roaring fire.

  "I wish to help educate the children in your workforce." Lucy smiled slightly; pleased she sounded so matter of fact.

  "I wasn't aware you have experience of mill work my dear," Charles' right foot tapped out a monotonous rhythm as he waited for her response.

  I don't," Lucy breathed deeply, infuriating man."I want to teach them to read and write."

  "Not skills they need working for me I think you'll agree." Charles hauled his body out of the chair and limped towards the bell pull at the side of the fireplace.

  "Life skills are always worth having sir." Lucy remained seated but her hands clenched the carved arms of the chair.

   Charles stared at her whitened fingers for a moment."No I won't have it, if that's all?"

  Lucy sprang to her feet hoping the activity would stop her mouth from exploding with ire. It didn't work. "They deserve a break from your filthy mills sir, they're children they need to play and see the light of day."

  "You mistake me for someone who gives a damn, madam, I bid you good day." He pulled hard on the bell, and then turned to the window effectively dismissing her.

  Red mist filled her gaze and Lucy tapped him on the shoulder. "If I can't appeal to your philanthropy, use your business head. Your workers are unsettled they want better conditions. This way you lose very little and placate your workforce."

Charles snatched her wrist with his undamaged hand as she withdrew hers from his shoulder and held it in a tight, painful grip."A threat, madam, you surprise me."

  Lucy gulped as her lunch surged from her stomach. She'd pushed him too far. Now he scared her. The whispers and rumours, which circulated about Charles Bracken, flooded her panicked mind. She wouldn't be his next victim. Lucy met his angry gaze and pulled against the hand which immobilised her wrist."Unhand me sir, you're no gentleman."  His speculative stare as it raked her face and lower, betrayed the coarseness of the mill owner's thoughts. Lucy shuddered. Her mind decried such a show of weakness but fear overrode her courage. She'd underestimated her opponent in her youthful arrogance. She wouldn't be in such a vulnerable position now, if she used commonsense, her mind screamed.

  Charles dragged her roughly against his fleshy body and forced the fingers of his damaged hand into her red hair; pins clattered onto the drawing room's wooden floor. Hot liquid hit the back of her throat as her body betrayed her fear, she must escape. If he kissed her with his slack mouth, she would disgrace herself completely and lose her lunch. She took a quick breath and screamed. It echoed round the room but would it penetrate the thick walls of her elegant prison? Losing face in front of the snooty butler, the least of her worries now. As she opened her mouth to scream again, he pounced.

Soft lips closed over her partly open mouth. His rancid breath threatened to choke her. She raised her knee upwards and banged it into the delicate flesh between his legs, desperate to be free.  Charles' head reared back, his gaze warred between pain and murderous. Lucy pushed past her attacker towards the door and freedom. Foul mouthed curses rang in her ears as Charles lurched for her. Hampered by a limp, he missed. She ran towards a door, not the imposing double doors to the hallway but the only obvious escape route.

Charles closed in on her; anger apparently overcoming his infirmity.  Lucy snatched at the handle, pulled the door open. As it clicked shut behind her she ran into a solid object. Her breath faltered. The steady thrum of a heart beat echoed in her ears, she shivered as warm breath brushed her hair. She risked a quick glance upwards.

  "Whoa."  A deep masculine voice vibrated through her adrenaline filled body.

  Lucy stared and breathed heavily, with the force of the impact. Her collision was not with an immovable object but an equally formidable man. A spicy mix of bergamot, horses and something enticing but unrecognisable assailed her nostrils. She sighed, relieved this wasn't her pursuer. This body boasted musculature and smelled mouth wateringly good. She heard the door open. Silvery eyes met hers in a heat filled gaze. His lips quirked with amusement, which fled as the door slammed against the wall behind them.

  "Give her to me Justin. Little vixen's got it coming. She kicked me..." Charles Bracken stumbled into the room, which Lucy realised was full of books.

  She trembled and hoped the man who held her with consummate ease would save her. "He attacked me," the faint accusation registered. A warm arm swept round her shoulders as he drew her to his side and placed his tall muscular form between her and red faced Charles Bracken.  Fearful, her body snuggled into the unfamiliar warmth, she sighed with involuntary contentment. The hand on her shoulder squeezed, as if to reassure before her rescuer pushed her completely from Charles' sight.

  "What the hell is going on Father?" So this was Justin Bracken, the prodigal son returned so recently from fighting on the Peninsula.

  "Let me at her." Charles swayed and held his head.

  "Sit down Sir. Do you want another bout of apoplexy? It may be your last." Justin pushed the older man into the convenient chair and waited.

  "She's the one, the one who's preaching rebellion to my workers." Droplets of saliva sprayed from Charles' mouth.

  "I only want to educate the children." Lucy insisted, peering from behind the safety of Justin's broad back.

 Justin turned towards her, empathy in his gaze."You better go Miss?"

  "Mrs Osborne." Lucy corrected him automatically.

  "Mrs Osborne, I apologise for my father's behaviour he is ill. I would be obliged if you overlooked his uncouthness."

  Dismissed she nodded, it wouldn't do to push her luck, the outcome could be much worse. Still wobbly, she swayed as she turned to leave, giving the older man a wide berth. Justin's large hand pushed her forwards, his heat branded her back where his hand briefly rested. Unfamiliar heat rushed between her shaky thighs, shocked her gaze sought his. The passion she saw turned the heat to a wet ache. She must escape before she made an even bigger fool of herself. She reached the door of what could only be a library and opened it. She didn't look back. Instead she squared her shoulders and met the bleak stare of the butler who materialised from the dark hallway. Only when the doors thudded shut behind her did she let the tears fall. She stumbled down the hill to the village.

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Jane Hunt ©2015/Past Shadows