The Runaway Princess

Chapter 15

“To argue with a man who has renounced the use and authority of reason, and whose philosophy consists in holding humanity in contempt, is like administering medicine to the dead, or endeavoring to convert an atheist by scripture.” Thomas Paine, The American Crisis

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Chapter Fifteen

“No!” David cried as he threw his hammer down onto the anvil with all the strength he had. “No, no, no! Not her, please anyone but her!”

The Ascot blacksmith, Mr Anderson, had quickly made himself scarce when David had come in to abuse the anvil.

Sweat was running rivers down David’s back and was dripping off of his hair into his eyes. He did not care. All he cared about was her, and now she had disappeared. She was effectively a myth. He did not know who she was. She had been lying to him, making fun of him, most likely laughing with her Spanish friend at how gullible he was.

David saw red as he cried out in fury, smashing the hammer down onto the anvil again and again and again.

How could he have been so wrong about Elena? Had he really been so bewitched by her beautiful face? Had he simply blinded himself to her faults and deceit because he enjoyed her appearance?

Elena had taken advantage of him. He did not know why she had run away from Spain and he honestly did not care to know why, all he knew was that she had used him to conceal herself. She had seen that he had feelings for her and she had taken advantage of them to suit herself.

What a talented little actress she was. She had completely fooled him.

David felt utterly stupid. He prided himself on being a reasonably intelligent man. He often saw through the false pretences of women in ballrooms so how had he missed Elena’s lies?

Pathetically, what hurt most was his heart. He felt an ache in his chest, an ache that told him that he had just lost something very important to him. And he had, he had lost his Elena. Of course, his Elena was not the real Elena, but the perfect woman he had invented in his head was gone and he would never be getting her back. She was dead.

David continued to beat the anvil until he could no longer move. David collapsed down on the ground and wiped his face on his sleeve to rid his eyes of sweat. When the sweat was gone, he realised that he was crying, grieving even. “What kind of man are you, David?” he asked himself quietly.

“A very silly one indeed.”

David jumped, immediately looking up to see the source of the voice. “Mama, what are you doing here?”

Bess arched an eyebrow as she came over to help him to his feet. She used her handkerchief to wipe his brow. “You are saturated, dear,” she murmured.

David’s teeth clenched. “I am angry, Mama.”

Bess nodded once. “You have a right to be angry, Davy,” she allowed, “but you do not have a right to abandon that poor girl.”

David’s eyes widened. “Abandon?” he repeated.

“Yes, abandon.” Bess nodded. “You cannot abandon her. You love her.”

“And what of truth?” he snapped, his voice laced with fury and disgust. “She lied to me!”

Bess placed her hands on her hips as her hazel brown eyes narrowed. “She was afraid, David,” she said slowly. “The poor thing was terrified.”

David scoffed. “Of course she was. She was terrified of being found out!” David was sure she would have happily carried on lying to him had her brother not arrived in England. What if they had married? He was incredibly lucky in that respect. Being permanently bound to a lying, deceitful little woman whose feelings for him were merely self-serving would have utterly ruined him.