Chapter Nine
Thomas sighed and looked out the window. He knew he ought to wash, get dressed, retain some dignity. but for what? Nobody was seeing him. He was not going anywhere. If he was to be caged up like an animal, he may as well look and live like an animal.
He found it hard to believe his own mother would treat him so harshly, and yet... she was. And she genuinely believed it would help him. She believed it so much, so sincerely, that he was starting to wonder whether she was right, whether some good would come from all this pain after all.
And yet he knew it would not. He knew that it would just be months of torment at the hands of his family followed by endless torment at the hands of one of the cruelest women he had ever met.
He wanted to be with Christopher, but that was just not possible. Christopher would never be able to take him away from this, to make him happy. All Christopher had done was give him hope. Give him a taste of all the sweet love life could offer him only to have it violently ripped away, never to return. He would have been better had he never had hope in the first place. He had always known how his life would end up: married, with a single child dutifully provided by a miserable and lonely wife, inheriting a fortune that was no comfort to his aching heart full of dark secrets.
Only now he had to do so with the full knowledge of what he was missing out on.
Hearing a knock at the door and the handle turning, he spun around from the window.
His mother was there. She looked more than a little distressed, and angry too. He wanted to tell himself he could not fathom why. After all, he was doing everything she asked him to. He was staying in his room, he was waiting for her commands, he was doing all he could. But he knew, deep down, that it was just pure disappointment. Her oldest son, her only son, had turned out differently to how she wanted. He had tried to rebel against her.
He could do all he wanted now, but he would never undo the pain of the disappointment he had brought to her. All he could do was hope that his father never had, and never would, find out about him.
“Ugh, you look a horrible mess. Get yourself cleaned up right away. Victoria is here to see you,” Baroness Fitzroy said.
“When will she be ready?” he asked.
“She is. I did not expect you to be like this. I shall tell her you are bathing. Now hurry up and get clean and dressed. The least you can do is not look like a complete and utter pig in front of her.” With that, Baroness Fitzroy turned, closed the door, and left.
Thomas just nodded. She wasn't there to see, but he nodded. He nodded to remind himself that he would do as she said. That it was his duty, what he owed his parents for giving him life and raising him in such a prestigious home.
He took the jug of water from that morning, by now cold, and poured it into the basin. Taking the soap and flannel, he stripped and began to wash himself down. He started crying, tears dropping into the sudsy water.
***
Victoria was very much still herself. She sat in her chair, playing with her hair and watching the wind shaking the tree by the window behind Thomas’ head.
“I suppose you are still happy to go through with this, and nothing I could say would change your mind?” he half-asked, half-stated.
She nodded. “That would be correct. After all the trouble I've been through, I deserve my reward.”
Thomas shook his head. She resumed ignoring him and smiled and waved at the maids who were acting as their chaperons, stood in the corner of the room. She was clearly not there to talk. Just to gloat about her power over him.
“I do not understand why you would go for me, of all the sons of Barons who would probably take you,” he said.
She shrugged. “I wanted you. You suited my interests. You are probably the highest-ranking man my parents set me up with, and you are so much more fun than any of my other suitors.”
Thomas sighed and shook his head again. “But you could be with a man who actually cares for you. Who wants the best for you. Who loves you and respects you rather than fears you. Who desires you as a woman. I can do none of those things.”
“I do not want them to desire me, I do not want a man who will touch me and dirty me,” Victoria said with a snarl. “You are perfect.”
Thomas was slightly taken aback. “You do not wish to marry a man you can love and hold and bear children for?”
Victoria let out an affected gagging sound. “Ugh, of course not. Like you said, why else would I choose a man who will never touch me, who probably cannot bear to look at me naked?”
“Are you... interested in women?” he asked in a hushed voice.
Victoria laughed. “No, I am not. Nor do I want to be touched by a man. I wish to remain unsullied and pure for the rest of my life.”
“Then why not become a nun?” Thomas asked.
“And give up my life as it stands? I do not wish to live a life of pious denial. I simply do not wish to be dirty.” Victoria glared at him some more, then resumed watching the trees out the window.
Thomas knew he would get nowhere talking about that. She was determined to marry him, and only him.
“My mother wants us to marry in July,” he remarked.
“I know and that is what I asked for. It's not as though we need to make any preparations, neither of us will change our minds,” she said with a smug smile.
Thomas shook his head. “It feels so soon.”
“My parents are handling everything anyway. The venue, my dress, feeding the guests. Oh, the guests! I wonder if they will invite your dear Christopher? Perhaps he will come as your sister's company?” Victoria began to laugh.
Thomas was at a loss as to what do with this girl. She was determined to marry him and nothing he said or did would change that. And he knew that if he were to try and make her life hell, she would just turn running to his parents and come up with a reason to make his life even worse.
“I will never love you, you know?” he said.
“I know and I do not care. I do not care if you ever like me,” she replied.
“More than that, I despise you,” he said.
She shrugged. “Very well, despise me. What harm do your feelings do to me?”
“I am a man. I am stronger than you. I have more social standing than you, and you want to make me your enemy?” he said, trying to sound as threatening as possible. “You wish to marry someone who despises you, and make yourself a subservient wife to him?”
“Oh, I agree, if it were anyone else I would not wish to make myself so antagonistic to him. Men can and will subjugate their wives, and some are brutish enough to hit a woman. But you are a weak little Molly who is always looking for someone big and strong to boss him around, who will never tell anyone else what to do, or act without permission,” Victoria said.
Thomas was about to reply, but she was right. He was a passive, weak man who had always relied on others to tell him how to live his life.
After another half an hour of her bullying him, Victoria left. But that half hour had given Thomas time to mull over what she had said. And he had made a decision. But he needed to run it by someone level-headed first. He found Delilah sitting on the sofa in the drawing room, reading a newspaper.
“I... I think I am running away,” he said quietly.
“I beg your pardon?” Delilah exclaimed, looking up from the newspaper.
Thomas sat down beside his sister on the sofa. “I cannot stay here, I cannot do this. I... I cannot marry a woman who despises me so much and be under her control. Anything would be better than a lifetime of what she does to me,” he explained.
He half expected her to tell him to stop being silly and just do the right thing.
Instead, Delilah hugged him closely. “Please stay safe,” she whispered.
He hugged her tightly. “Are you... are you sure you will be all right?” he asked.
“It is not me that is running away,” she replied. “Make sure you have money, but do not let other people know what money you have. Keep a few coins in your pocket and the rest in your bag. And take the gardener's old coat, so you can look a little more humble.”
Thomas nodded. “Thank you. I... I will go tonight.”
“It is for the best. You could never be happy otherwise. I will miss you, though.” She would not release him from the hug.
“I will write to you as often as I can so that you know I am well,” he replied.
***
Thomas packed his bag that night. He did as Delilah had said, packing older clothes that did not look quite so luxurious, a few bare hygiene essentials, and some money. It was hard to resist the temptation to pack everything he owned, but he knew that too much luxury would get him robbed and then he would have nothing.
Sneaking downstairs, he could hear that everyone in the house was asleep. He went to the kitchen and threw a few simple, long-lasting foods in a jug, which he then placed in his bag. The front door was too loud, so he slipped out the side door which the servants used. He was rather impressed with himself for making his way out and down the lane entirely undetected. But once he was outside he had very little idea what he was actually going to do.
He simply began walking, not in the direction of the village, where everyone would know him, but up the main road, toward the town, where he could disappear into the crowds. It would be a couple days of walking, but he knew there would be a few inns along the way.
Although it was a summer night, it was bitterly cold and the wind felt sharp against his skin. But he had to keep on walking. He had to reach an inn, somewhere to rest. This was the trouble with leaving late at night. He needed the cover of darkness to ensure nobody realized he was gone too soon, but he also needed to get away from potential criminals and get some sleep for the day ahead.
It was almost dawn by the time he spied the light of a traveler's inn. He was a little anxious he may be recognized, but he hoped that by keeping quiet and wearing something a little tattered nobody would notice him.
He threw his thick overcoat in the hedge and put on the gardener's old coat to cover himself up. Between the dirt on his clothes and the old coat, he no longer looked much like the son of a Baron.
The lady at the inn eyed him somewhat suspiciously. “This is an odd time to be asking for a room. How long will you stay?”
“I am not sure, maybe just a few hours to get some sleep,” he said, “but I would like a room if you have one.”
She looked at his money just as suspiciously, but after checking the coins thoroughly she showed him upstairs to a little plain room overlooking the road.
The bed was small and the mattress was visibly lumpy. Although the bedding was fairly clean it had plainly been patched a few times. The fire had only just been lit for him and the air had not yet lost its still coolness. The candle was outshone by the fine rays of sunlight beginning to peek through the window.
Thomas threw his bag down on the bed. The room was not the most comfortable he had been in. But he needed to be responsible with his money. Were he to rent the most luxurious rooms in the inn he would run out of money very fast, and with no obvious source of income yet, he would be in dire straits.
He would need to get a job of some description in town. Becoming a tradesman's apprentice sounded pretty easy in books, but he suspected it would not be quite so simple in real life. Nevertheless, something had to be done, and soon. Once he reached town he would not have much money left to survive on until he would need a job.
He ate some bread and cheese from his bag. He did not want to go downstairs to the pub and put his face out in public for a meal. Not only would it cost money he could not afford to spend, but someone may recognize him and tell his parents, or even take him home.
He wondered whether he ought to invest in a coach to get him to town. His money would run out a little faster, but he would be able to start job hunting sooner. And he would also make sure he was far away from anyone who knew him. He ought to grow facial hair too, so he would be harder to recognize. His mother looked at him so rarely at home, she probably wouldn't recognize him as he was, with an old coat on and a little dirt on him.
He finished his bread and cheese and sealed the jug. He would need to be careful with his rations, to avoid spending money on food for another two days. Anything to help him last longer until he had an income.
Thomas curled up on the bed and sighed. This was not a life he wanted, and he was beginning to feel sorry for himself. He was not used to any of this, and he did not really want to get used to it. He did not really want to walk all day and sleep on such an uncomfortable bed and eat bread and cheese out of a jug. He really wanted to go back to Christopher. But that was the first place anyone would look, wasn't it?