The House Guest (Unedited)

Chapter 2: Goodbye

Tentative, I adjust my wool shawl tighter around my shoulders and follow him inside the Pub. Men with booming, loud voices curse and laugh in a chaotic burst of noise. Even Henry looks out of place, his well-kept garments and fashions earning annoyed looks from the working-class regulars. He looks like a pruned peacock, and I have to stop myself from laughing.

I also feel as conspicuous as a mouse in a cat's domain. I can only imagine what the tavern patrons think of me. My long, chestnut brown hair is loose and thick around my waist, and my eyes are downcast. My freckles and large eyes make me look far younger than my fifteen years, and my threadbare muslin gown reveals that I do not belong in the company of such a refined young gentleman.

"Hello, good sir, can I have a pint of beer? And, Helene, what do you want? Fish and chips?" Henry grins widely, his eyes gleaming.

"A beer?" I whisper, tugging the sleeve of his shirt. "Henry! Lady Dorothea doesn't allow you to drink even wine." We both know it is the truth -- ever since Henry became intoxicated with Christmas rum, Lady Dorothea has prohibited him from indulging in any drink.

He glances at me with annoyance stamped across his handsome face, and I feel dejected -- my chest filling with disappointment. The last thing I want is for the boy I admire most in the world to think of me with irritation.

Ignoring my warning, Henry grabs the pint of beer from the tavern owner and downs it with one massive gulp, leading me to believe it isn't the first time he has done so. I should be scandalized, but I find myself becoming more and more intrigued by my worldly and cultivated companion.

"Who is that woman?" Henry leans against a wooden plank. I follow his gaze to a painted lady, her stare fastened to us intently.

"I'd stay away from that one if I was you, mister." The tavern owner coughs.

"Why ever would I do that?" Henry laughs, winking in the woman's direction. "I enjoy some trouble."

I blush at his indecency. Henry is going to get himself into trouble one day -- if his self-confidence never expires. He seems to get away with things since he is a youth, but when the fast-approaching day comes he is considered to be a man, he will no longer be able to tease and play as he does.

"Helene, wait here for me. Don't move, and don't talk to any of these vulgar, strange men. I'm going to go talk to someone." Henry explains before I can protest. I watch him saunter towards the girl a few years older than me, with vivacious red curls and a very well-endowed bosom, threatening to spill out of her taffeta purple gown. When he speaks, she tosses her head back and laughs in an exaggerated fashion, inviting attention from every person, particularly every man, within earshot. Her voice is shrill and high, coated in the coarse accent of the peasantry in the village.

I turn my back to the swarms of people, and smooth my hands over my dress, fingering the place where there is a rip in the seam. My heart sinks, and I do not know why.

"Hello, love. You from the village?"

I startle, spinning around in my chair. A man with a greasy face and silvery black hair smirks at me, his hand moving threateningly close to my hip.

"Excuse me," I squeak.

I leap to my feet and maneuver my way through a group of rowdy men. To my dismay, the man, lathered in the stench of alcohol, follows me.

"You're a pretty little thing, I must say. How about joining me, upstairs? You don't need to be all alone when you could be having a laugh with me," he belches.

My stomach flips, and the vile taste of vomit enters my mouth.

"No. I'm leaving now, goodbye." I gulp.