Mistress Agnes Read online

  Of course that woke him, not as quickly as it used to, he knew that touch and he cared for Patrick.

  His hand felt for his throat, and Dennis looked his question to Patrick.

  'She gave us the key and pleaded us to save your life and make sure you would become happy somewhere, no matter the cost.'

  A pain worse than the whipping.

  'She wants me out of her life?'

  Guy now sat on his other side, and calmly said, 'I don't think so, Dennis. I guess she thinks you want to leave her far behind.'

  'You understand me, don't you? I love her, I want to be her slave, I want to follow her everywhere. Why can't the mistress understand that? I'm hers more than anyone.'

  He started to wheeze again, even without the collar, and Guy decided he needed a distraction.

  'We'll see how things work out, Dennis. But first you need to go outside and breathe fresh air, and get some sunshine. And eat a hearty meal with us in the kitchen, meet Cook and and John, the stable boy, and see Dick's homely face by daylight.'

  That was the worst moment of all, for Dennis lost every semblance of control and broke down crying. He was not going anywhere, he was just too far gone.

  Guy took over entirely for Patrick was starting to lose it as well, and he ordered his partner, 'Patrick, get a set of proper clothes, mine, yours won't fit him. And under things as well, and your old boots. Your feet are bigger. Then get Dick to carry him outside. Now go, quickly.'

  Patrick left, feeling better now he had something to do.

  And Guy held Dennis, telling him he would feel better once he was away from the attic, really, truly.

  'You're a good man, Dennis, and this is not what life is meant to be for you.

  You need to face your past and make a future for yourself, be strong again.

  A better life is waiting for you, my friend, you can be anything you like. You can start a business, or learn a trade. You can be your own man, not beholden to anyone. And you're handsome, and young, and incredibly sweet, you will find love, disinterested love, and you'll have children, not too many, two would be fine, and you'll live happily ever after.

  I'm sure of it. Dammit Dennis, you're free!'

  By now, Patrick was back, with the clothes, and Dick, who kneeled before Dennis and touched his bare throat.

  'The collar is gone. Good. You were never a dog, and should never have been whipped. I'm sure you never did anything bad.'

  'Let me dress him, Dick, and then you can carry him outside. Do you know a nice sunny spot where he can breathe some fresh air?'

  'Yes, Guy, behind the stables is a lovely field with an old haystack. It's perfect to laze about if you have the time. I'll carry Dennis there. You take care of the mistress.'

  Guy had no idea how Dick knew the mistress would be in need of attention, but he was right, and Guy said, 'Thank you for the offer, Dick. You go see the mistress, Patrick, you were ever her favourite, she'll let you in.'

  'She has locked herself in somewhere?'

  Even now, Dennis was more concerned with the woman who had mistreated him than with his own health and happiness.

  'Don't you dare worry about her, Dennis. She hurt you so badly, when you never gave her anything but what she wanted.'

  Patrick seemed more than angry.

  'On second thought, Patrick,' Guy said quietly, 'you go with Dennis to make him feel safe and wanted, and I'll go see to the mistress.'

  And so it went, once Dennis was dressed in proper clothes for possibly the first time in his life, Dick carefully carried him down the stairs, and across the yard, and skillfully made a comfortable seat for him in the hay. Then he went about his business, leaving Patrick and Dennis alone in the field. Patrick made a seat for himself right next to Dennis and snuggled against him, hearing with satisfaction that his friend's breathing was already next to normal again.

  They sat there in silence for half an hour until Dennis wriggled to the edge of his seat and asked, 'Will you help me try to walk a little?'

  Patrick jumped to the ground and stood firm, so Dennis could grab him if he were to fall.

  He started out with an arm clutched to Patrick's shoulder, but after a few steps he got his confidence back and he breathed in deeply and let go of a heartfelt yell from the bottom of his heart.

  'I'm very sorry I misjudged the mistress, Dennis,' Patrick started, 'I really thought she'd take to you, but instead you got hurt even worse. I feel responsible for what you went through.'

  Dennis was striding out now, he shook his body like a dog and breathed with a relish, enjoying the sunshine on his pale skin.

  'Never mind, Patrick. Who knows what would have happened if I had shown her my true self? It might have been worse. But what will happen to me now?

  Did the mistress really promise me a happy life? I will not be thrown back on the moors?'

  'After what happened, Guy and I will keep you until you are well again, and then you can decide what you want to do with the rest of your life. Guy will take you there, and the mistress will pay. That is what she said.'

  'I'm hungry. Can I really sit with you in the kitchen and eat?'

  'Yes, please, Dennis. I don't want you to go away just like that, let's have some fun together first, to remember you by. We've been good friends, haven't we?'

  Grabbing Patrick's hands, Dennis foolishly spun the both of them around, of course losing his footing and tumbling to the ground. He lay there, gasping and coughing.

  'I've missed this so much, clean air, daylight, freedom.

  But where will I sleep until I leave, Patrick? I can't go back to the attic, not ever again.'

  'If the mistress won't let you have a guest room you can sleep with us. Until you are strong again, the cuts healed, the wheezing gone. We'll take care of you, the mistress won't bother you. She's in her study, writing books most of the time.'

  'You know I never knew that? What she did? She never told me anything about her life, and never asked about mine. We only made love. Or was it just sex to her? Then she left me, each and every time.'

  'Oh Dennis, you're making me cry all over again. I've spent so many nights in Guy's arms, bawling my eyes out over you. I want to see you happy, you deserve it so much.'

  'I'm sorry, I guess I'm just a little lovesick. I never got the chance to meet a woman, you know, so she was my first love. And I guess those are always painful when they end badly. I'll get over it. At least, I've heard most people do.'

  'I don't mind, Dennis, I'll just cry some more tears over you. You deserve them.'

  By now they had reached the house, and though Dennis felt really uncomfortable, afraid to meet the mistress and face her anger or disappointment, he was still acutely aware of his good fortune. She wanted him to be happy, and was prepared to gift him whatever he needed to be that.

  She could have thrown him out as he was, he had no-one to protect him.

  Well, that was not entirely true, Patrick and Guy would have helped him, but

  of course they were her servants first of all.

  Nothing had ever tasted as good as dinner in the kitchen. Cook was nice to him, John, the stable boy, recognized him from the day of his arrival.

  'I wondered where you had disappeared to.'

  But after dinner, when dusk came, and they still hadn't heard or seen a glimpse of Guy, he started to worry again, afraid to be kicked out after all. He felt himself starting to wheeze again, and realized it was a nervous condition, not a physical one, brought on by the anxiety of his situation. But compared to this morning he felt infinitely better, he had eaten well, and seen the kitchen, and most importantly, been out in the daylight and the fresh air.

  The wheezing didn't stop, though, not until Guy came in to fetch his mistress her dinner, and to tell Dennis he could have an empty room in the servant's quarters, next to their own.

  'Mrs Beauchamp would have given you a guest room, but I supposed you'd prefer to stay close to us, and away from her. Let Patrick take you to it, you need
rest, Dennis, you look fagged and you wheeze. Better take long walks each day, and stay outside as much as you can. Fresh air will do you good.'

  Though something inside him still hurt, the anxiety left him for now and the wheezing lessened significantly. He did take Guy's advice, not waiting to hear his friend's report on how the mistress was doing. It was of little use anyway, she had made her intentions clear and he had to obey them. And probably for the best, he was rabble, and she a lady, and they should never have come together, nothing good came out of it.

  He fell asleep almost instantly, dead tired with the emotions of the last few weeks and apprehension for the time to come. As usual when he felt so much strain, his sleep was plagued with frightening dreams of suffocating, being caught and hanged for desertion, being shot and killed and stabbed to death by enemy soldiers or rival gang members. He never cried out, he never even wakened this time, but the next morning he joined the breakfast table with dark circles under his eyes.

  That night, Agnes hadn't slept either. Guy had talked with her seriously, not like a servant to his mistress but as one friend to another. It was obvious Guy had never approved of what she did to Dennis, though he had never shown his censure as clearly as Patrick had.

  His insights had enlightened Agnes more than she liked, and whereas she had at first felt sorry for herself, for her beautiful plan come to nothing, for a love

  lost, when Guy left she felt incredibly guilty towards Dennis. She had robbed him of his freedom, of his peace of mind, Guy was even afraid she had broken him, left him without free will or hope, and just as bad, had damaged his health permanently. He wheezed all the time, it had been very bad at dinner, and Guy feared she would have to set Dennis up for retirement, to spend a few more years in comfort before his condition killed him.

  She could afford it, Brighton would be a good place for someone suffering from the wheezes, or maybe a small village on the coast where no soldiers came, to spare him the fear of getting hanged. He wasn't used to much so he wouldn't require much, but the thought of having cut someone's life short for her own amusement just didn't cease to plague her. And by the time the birds started singing outside, the thought of losing him from her life was still keeping her awake.

  She took her breakfast alone, knowing that Dennis would be making fun of Dick in the kitchen, or exchanging fond looks with Patrick. She was dead tired and couldn't concentrate on her book, so she decided to ride out and get some fresh meat for the pot.

  The thought of exercise and fresh air cheered her immediately, until she realized she had kept the man she had learned to love from experiencing that same comfort. Even when he begged her for it.

  Still she changed into breeches and had her horse saddled, and within half an hour she managed to forget her misdeeds and her selfishness for a few moments, galloping across the heath in a fresh spring rain.

  Dennis in fact was not making fun of Dick, but he did like to see his friendly face at the table. The big man seemed really glad to have him there, and finally Dennis asked why he was so happy.

  'I'm just glad to see you here. No-one should be all alone,' he replied, 'friends are important. You will be happier with us. Does your neck still hurt?'

  'Hardly at all, Dick. I feel much better.'

  But his appearance belied this statement, he looked like death warmed over with his darkened eyes, his harrowed pale face and the huge bruise on his throat, and Guy suggested he walk out, to restore his spirits and clear his lungs.

  'You look worse today, Dennis, but you sound better. I wish I could make things right, but only time can do that. You know the mistress said you could stay as long as you liked.'

  He didn't tell Dennis she had admitted to loving him desperately, dreading the day he would leave her for good. Just having him in her house made their separation easier to bear, for then she at least knew he was all right, with good food and good friends.

  But Guy couldn't betray her confidence. And he wondered whether Dennis would ever be free and happy with the mistress trying to control him. When Dennis asked how she was doing, Guy didn't get any further than, 'She felt really awful, Dennis. About what she did to you. She hardly slept at all. And she misses you, badly.'

  See, that didn't help at all, Dennis seemed to fall apart totally, his breathing audible at once, his face in agony. Guy now also realized the wheezes were not physical but a nervous condition. To him the knowledge was heartening, anxiety never killed a man before his time, there was still hope for his friend's total recovery.

  Not realizing the mistress was on the moors, Guy practically shoved Dennis outside, urging him to not underestimate the danger of getting lost.

  'Stay close to the house, or stick to the paths. You know how treacherous the moors are.'

  Chapter 7

  And so Dennis rambled outside, a borrowed coat keeping him warm on this wet day, his hair dripping on the oiled fabric, his spirits lifting with the renewed realization he was free! He actually ran for a while, finding it easier than he expected, and totally exhilarated he walked on, sticking to the path faithfully, hope for the future taking over from his feeling of loss.

  When he reached the first village he crossed it to just see the sights, the tiny farms, the rough cattle, the village square with its gathering place around a large fire pit. Then he turned around and walked back, still keeping a good pace, ever wetter from the rain but not caring.

  Almost in sight of the house he cut across a tall hill, planning to be childish and run down the long slope towards the house. Going up was a drag, but the path was climbing almost as much, though not as steeply. And down was even more fun than he thought, faster than the wind, rain still drizzling, he breathed in deeply as he ran.

  To be overtaken by three large hounds, they didn't threaten him but merely joined him in his fun, they rarely met a human who liked running as much as they did. At least, that was what Dennis thought when they passed him, then circled him and ran along with him, all the way down the hill.

  Only when he reached the bottom and saw the house did he wonder whose dogs they were, and as they crowded around to have their ears and faces scratched, he heard hoofbeats behind him. Of course he knew who it had to be, and he didn't want to turn around, so he scratched the dogs some more.

  But when the hoofbeats came to a standstill the hounds ran to their mistress, and Dennis had to face his mistress as well.

  She was more beautiful than ever in daylight, sitting that tall horse astride, and proudly so. She didn't look a bit less feminine in breeches, and though he knew he was staring, he couldn't help himself. Two large birds dangled from her saddle, dinner for all of them, she always shared her kills with her servants.

  Without a visible cue from her, the horse strode towards him and nuzzled his

  borrowed coat. He stroked its nose, he didn't have a lot of experience with horses but he wasn't afraid of them, he could ride a little and he knew how to care for them, at least for the hardy army horses.

  He still stared at his mistress and she stared right back, and for an eternity, nothing happened.

  Then the leg furthest from him swung over the front of the saddle elegantly, a feat he would not have believed possible if he hadn't seen it. And before he had processed that image, he saw her sliding down the saddle, straight towards him.

  He could either step back and let her land on her feet, or stay put and catch her. In a split second he had her in his arms and she clung to him, crying. He felt his throat slam shut, his wheeze back instantly, he couldn't speak or even cry, he was just frozen up completely.

  'Oh Dennis, my love, please don't leave me!'

  He still couldn't speak, no words came out, just wheezes.

  She looked up at him, and he looked her straight in the eye, feeling only a slight inclination to kneel to her, easily suppressed.

  'Oh my love, what have I done to you? Can you ever forgive me?'

  He wanted to tell her it wasn't as bad as it looked, he had run down that hill a
fter all, but still his voice didn't work, she was so beautiful and he wanted her so much, had only wanted to please her, all this time.

  But though he could not speak, he could show her his love by holding her, by nuzzling her throat eagerly, her scent faint but as delicious as ever. That settled her, and still attributing his wheezes and his inability to speak to her abuse, she said through her tears, 'My name is Agnes, Dennis. When you find back your breath, will you call me by my name, please?'

  'There is nothing wrong with my breath, Agnes,' he finally managed to whisper. 'The wheezes, they're just anxiety, nerves. I never really recovered from the war, you see. I'm not just rabble, I'm damaged goods as well.'

  'Aren't we all, Dennis? Will you stay with me for now, see if we can live with each other's damage, maybe do some patching up together?'

  'I will, my love, I never wanted anything more than be with you all the time.

  I've been sick with love more than anything else the last few weeks.'

  'Are you sure? I did some horrible things to you, they will take some forgiving. I shudder to think how I treated the man I knew I loved.'

  'I've been through worse, Agnes, I'll forgive you readily if you are willing to

  share things with me.'

  'Oh my love, you're too good for this world, I cannot forgive myself that easily. Let's get you inside, you're wet and cold, I'll take much better care of you from now on.'

  The horse had long since gone back to its stable, but the hounds were still waiting. Dennis fearlessly took Agnes' face in both his hands and kissed her intimately. She leaned into him and returned the kiss, her hands stroking his cheek as if nothing had ever come between them.

  But that didn't get him out of the rain and into a warm house.

  Maybe he doesn't want to be warm and comfortable, part of Agnes' mind offered. Maybe he wants to be outside, get wet, roam the moors in the rain to celebrate his freedom.

  'Do you even want to go inside, Dennis? I can imagine your being reluctant entering a place where you suffered so badly. If you want to stay outside I'll show you how to walk the moors in safety, so you can go wherever it pleases you.'