“I'm so sorry,” she told him, really not wanting to hurt him anymore, but knowing that his kind wouldn't stop unless she made him. She moved to the left leg. The popping sound was nearly identical, but sounded louder, since everyone had gone quiet.
“I'll...Fucking kill you...bitch...” Gasping in pain he tried to crawl toward her.
A groan came up from the crowd, even his own people were growing tired of his threats, she realized. The older man that had “witnessed” her offer to let the man go started yelling at him as he tried to crawl toward her.
“Leave off, you moron! Are you trying to force her to kill you? Is that it? Not a man here would leave you alive after all you've said. If you didn't have a wife and kids to support, I'd tell her to do it. Hell, I'd do it myself just to stop this nonsense! What are your kids going to eat when you're lying in the grave, huh? Did you think about them when you started attacking a woman you knew to be heir to one of the biggest fortunes in the country? Did you think her people were just going to look the other way? Did you think maybe that, I don't know, she apologized to you publicly, over and over again? What does it take to soothe your pride? Does she have to offer her life to some dumb-ass that keeps trying to have her beaten – for no reason as it turns out – and who personally attacked her twice? Please man, leave off now!”
Gwen stood, relaxed and waiting. If he didn't give up soon, she didn't know what she'd do. She couldn't kill the man, not lying on the floor beaten and unable to fight. She couldn't back that in court. One thing to drop a body in the middle of an ocean with only co-conspirators watching, where it was technically not breaking any laws, and as it turned out had the backing of the king, but doing it in front of twenty plus witnesses... No.
“Fine. Since he has a wife and children, I'll let him go. But talk some sense into him. If he comes after me again, I'll simply presume that it's a fight to the death and I won't play nearly as nice. Remind him of this. Also, let him know that I have friends that might take it amiss if I were killed, and they can and will hunt him down if something happens to me. It may also be a good idea to get someone in as your representative that can carry on a conversation without hitting. At least for a while. Kind of a poor business model that.”
Uncle Thomas called for a sledge and driver to take the man back home or to a hospital if he'd rather, he carefully made no suggestion that they pay for his treatment. The chargers all looked sad and hang-dog by the time they wandered out and got in the company vehicle that had brought them all. On her way out Barbara apologized for the trouble they'd caused and let them know that it wouldn't happen again, at least if she held her position after the fiasco that took place in the middle of the night.
Gwen nodded at the woman.
“If they fire you for this get in touch with us. We may be able to hire you on as our union liaison, to help us prevent things like this from happening again. Always room for reasonable people willing to work. Actually, if they don't promote you to Mr. Britain's job, please contact us anyway.” Then Gwen held her hand out to the woman, who didn't look happy, but at least didn't seem enraged or like she wanted to kill anyone either.
Thomas rode home with her so that she wouldn't be alone in case of attack and to discuss things with Robert before he took off to his offices, since he needed to know what had happened while he slept.
Winslow let them in, and looked at them both questioningly.
“Incident at the airfield. I kind of broke a man's arms and legs. I don't know what the fallout will be yet,” she told him on the way past. He directed them to where Mr. Vernor still sat eating breakfast, not in the dining room, but overlooking the backyard near a big picture window. A nicely appointed room she'd never been in before. Lots of dark wood and leather accented with a deep red for color.
Thomas filled him in quickly, even describing the fight she'd gotten herself into with the angry little union boss.
“Frank Britain? You broke his arms and legs? But only after he attacked you, not once, but twice? In front of witnesses? His own people, not just ours?” Mr. Vernor, powerful businessman, cultured gentleman, and sought after guest to all the best parties, chortled.
Then laughed, a great big belly laugh, he laughed until tears came out of his eyes and he had to excuse himself from the room while he took care of his nose, which had started to run. Even in the other room he kept laughing for a while. He got it under control coming back into the room after several minutes, only to leave again when seeing them sitting there reminded him of the image. On his second try he managed to hold everything together more smoothly and didn't do more than smile maniacally at them. Looking from one to the other.
“Brilliant! I've been looking for a way to get rid of that louse for five years. Not a month has gone by without him creating some problem or another. Literally. Now, if they try to defend his actions, we'll just move in and take their union from them in court. Either way we win! I just wish I could have seen his face when he realized he'd lost.” His eyes went misty.
“That's... that's the problem, isn't it? He doesn't think he has. Not really. No Frank Britain will simply wait now, probably not even until he's fully healed and try to kill me again. I probably should have killed him, but he has a wife and kids... Plus, you know, all those witnesses.”
They discussed strategy for a while, Gwen mainly listening, not really knowing the social or legal rules here. Neither of them seemed to think she'd be in any trouble at all. Not even taken in for questioning. Mr. Vernor smiled at her gently when he figured out what she was worried over.
“Don't worry, dear, you did everything just right, calling in witnesses to listen to your apology was a masterwork too. Giving him a lethal weapon like that, risky, but it showed everyone that you weren't just setting him up, knowing that you could easily win. Plus, him attacking a woman with a weapon... cowardly.” Mr. Vernor looked proud of her at least, so hopefully that meant something.
Uncle Thomas tilted his head toward her, but looked at Robert.
“So... were you ever planning on telling me at all?” He asked, his voice serious, but not menacing. “Don't bother trying to deny it. Too many signs in all. I have to admit, she nearly had me fooled, with the whole near death experience change of heart thing, but... too many things don't add up. No fear of heights? Katherine was terrified of step ladders! All the hard work? Gloria would still take you on as a loader you know, even if you are supposed to be the owner's daughter.” He turned to Mr. Vernor who looked slightly vexed. “Robert, if you knew what Gloria thinks of anyone that doesn't have grease under their fingernails you'd blush, but she'd take this young woman in a second over the dullard we currently have for her. I would too for that matter.”
He sighed, looked at her and continued without too great a pause.
“Then tonight... Oh, Katherine couldn't have beaten the man like that, certainly, but that's not what did it for me. No, I knew when you apologized to him. Katherine wouldn't have apologized to the man if she were the one on the floor broken and bleeding.”
Robert looked at his brother-in-law with sad eyes and told him the whole story, at least the parts about what Katherine had done, stealing the life of this woman from another world, which should have been impossible according to the experts, which was something Gwen hadn't been told at all. Then he explained the rest, how it was really a lot worse that just body theft, leaving her to die in her place, in a position that no one could hope to survive.
How, rather than ruining them all, as would be her right, Gwen had agreed to help them protect their lives and fortune. How she'd stood for them, even in public, protecting them all. Even putting her own dignity an honor on the line. For them.
The family of the woman that had stolen not just her life, but her entire world.
Admiral Welk regarded her seriously for a while, then nodded.
“I don't know where you're from, but I fear your people are better than ours, if you're representative of them. I was feeling a bit humbled by your recent behavior before I knew the whole story, but now... Thank you. Not just for keeping this dark matter a secret, but for everything you've done since you've been here. You've saved lives and fortunes... Fed the poor and needy, helped a Westmorland in dire need and did so almost seamlessly, helping to protect the name of my sister's family.” A tear came to his eye.
After a bit, he asked Robert who all knew about this, just so he didn't speak out of turn about the whole thing.
“Well, Ethyl, myself, you, Bethany Westmorland and I imagine any of her people that care to know, the local Constabulary, though marvelous chaps all, they've held their peace on it, Winslow and Gwen's driver, James. Some people from Western University, I gather.” He listed these names off on his fingers then asked if he missed any.
“Wait, I kind of guessed that Winslow knew, I mean, he's been helping me train and get into condition, teaching me weapons from this world and all. He had to have guessed by now at least, if nothing else, but James? He never let on at all!” She tried to search her memory for any sign that he might have known and couldn't find anything.
“Oh yes. He came to Winslow about three days after he started driving you around. He'd been Katherine's driver for years and she didn't even know his name, much less bother to be polite to him. He figured that the stories were true, but told Winslow to hold his tongue on the subject. I believe he rather threatened poor Winslow over the whole matter. Not a man to trifle with, James. Part of the reason he had the job of watching after my daughter, and now you. Rather likes you better, I take it.”
Gwen sat, shocked by all this new information.
Winslow knocked on the door frame.
“Very good, sirs, ma'am, if it's all out in the open now, the miss needs to get to training. We're in for extra blade work today, should have done it yesterday, but with the needs of business it got set aside.”
Gwen got up. “Right, no rest for the wicked and all that, let me get changed, I'll be ready in, say ten minutes?”
Winslow gave her a slow smile and made a single nod.
“If you can't do it faster... miss.”
Chapter thirty-two
(Promotion)
Nearly four more months passed of daily training. Harder runs, heavier packs, knife, sword, and stick fighting lessons, as well as the strange crins and power conduits, became part of Gwen's everyday life. By the end of this time she'd begun to despair about ever doing anything else again. The training moved from three hours a day to eight, sometimes ten. Winslow would set her to a task and merely check on her hours later.
Possibly to keep things interesting, Winslow had taken to ambushing her at irregular times. When she slept, even in the shower, to her amusement. Mrs. Vernor nearly fired him over that one on the spot. He didn't stop. Their daily runs had changed into long jogs while carrying heavier and heavier loads, a few of them lasting for most of a day. Those got traveled as a fast walk.