Free Paupers Graveyard by Gemma Mawdsley

her until he raised his voice.
    â€˜Elizabeth, are you listening to me?’
    She looked up, startled, ‘I’m sorry, Charles.’
    â€˜I merely asked that you earn your keep by refilling our glasses.’ He pointed to his empty glass, and to the one that Black Jack was twiddling between his fingers. The delicate stem looked even more fragile in his huge hands.
    â€˜Should I call the butler?’
    â€˜No, I told you to do it.’
    â€˜Very well,’ she replied, walking to the sideboard. She picked up the decanter and offered it first to the two men nearest to her. They thanked her, but refused. As she refilled his glass, Charles winked at her. She walked around to where Carey was sitting and leaned over to fill his. Her hand shook at the thought of serving him and how he would boast about it the next day to all and sundry, her ladyship being reduced to no more than a serving wench.
    â€˜That’s a very nice dress you’re wearing, my lady.’
    She looked at him in surprise.
    â€˜But it’s what’s in it, that interests me more.’
    Before she could retort to such brazen words, she was shocked to feel his hand move up and pat her bottom.
    â€˜How dare you!’ She hit Carey in the face with the decanter and watched in horror as the flesh opened and blood gushed from a wound on his cheek. For a moment no one spoke.
    Elizabeth ran. Behind her chairs were knocked over, and she was not sure if the men were following her, or rushing to Carey’s aid.
    â€˜Come back here!’ Charles bellowed, but she kept running. She took the stairs two at a time and ran to her room. Locking the door behind her, she threw herself down on the bed, sobbing. She’d really done it this time.
    After what seemed like hours, she drifted into a troubled sleep, and was surprised when Lucy shook her awake. It was morning.
    â€˜Mamma, you’re still in your evening dress.’
    Elizabeth sat up and looked down at the dress in a daze.
    â€˜Has Uncle Charles gone out?’ she grabbed Lucy’s arm.
    â€˜Ouch, Mamma, you’re hurting me.’
    â€˜I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so rough. Just tell me, has he gone out?’
    â€˜I’m not sure. Did you have another argument with him?’
    â€˜Yes,’ Elizabeth whispered, ‘and it was a bad one this time.’
    â€˜What are we to do?’ Lucy sat beside her. ‘Will he throw us out?’
    â€˜He may well do. We’ll just have to wait and see.’
    Elizabeth stayed in her room all morning refusing to eat, afraid she would be sick. It was late afternoon when he sent for her. There was no going back now, but she wasn’t going without a fight.
    Charles was stretched on a couch in the drawing-room. ‘Well, well, well,’ he laughed. ‘So the cat has claws.’
    â€˜What do you want, Charles?’
    â€˜What I want, m’lady, is that you and your children vacate my house.’ He got up quickly, but had to sit again, as the effects of the previous night’s drinking caught up with him.
    â€˜It was our house before it was yours, Charles, but the way you’re going, it won’t belong to any of us for much longer.’
    â€˜What do you mean?’
    â€˜You know exactly what I mean. You owe money to everyone in the town. There is not a grocer or wine merchant who will supply us. The farm is gone to rack and ruin. Look at this room,’ she waved her hand at the patches on the walls, where paintings had once hung. ‘The house has become a ghost, a shadow of its former self; there’s nothing left worth selling.’
    His face, already flushed from drinking, was purple in anger. ‘I’ll remind you, madam, that it was only through the greatest kindness that I left you and those, those ...’ he pointed to the ceiling, unable to think properly.
    â€˜Children,’ she screamed at him. ‘They’re called children, and like it or