A Change of Heart

She was stunned at how her appetite was behaving and she looked up at him, gave a little smile and granted the fact that despite all that had passed between them, he was one bloody good-looking man. A shame really. Being married, a prat, and possibly a womanizer judging by the pictures in the bar. That poor Jessie.

"Oh, brown please and thank you. I'll not bore you with everything, but just please don't believe one thing that's said. Even the decent stuff will be twisted I'm sure."

She took the sauce, and give a little tap to the bottom of the bottle and watched it curl onto the pattern on the side of the plate before tucking in and when she'd finished, she took her plate to the sink and returned with the tea pot and refreshed their cups. She looked at him.

"So now you know I'm Gracie so what should I call you? Is it Bill or would you prefer Mr Howard?"

She was used to formalities. Her parents' home ran on them like clockwork and it never surprised her when she heard anyone being formal. In fact, informality unless between friends, was frowned on in her parents' circle.

"And well, the car hire? I don't want to impose on you but I'm sure you'll be happy to see the back of me and I'm sure you'll want to get back to getting your rooms ready for your coming guests."

Gracie. That was unusual. He hadn't heard it before, Grace but not Gracie. It sounded good.

"I like your name, it's unusual. Where is it from?"

He wasn't expecting an answer. He was still marvelling at how the layers of society peel away to reveal, underneath it all, a pleasant, polite and, most of all, ordinary person, ordinary in the sense of not having airs and graces; she'd taken her plate to the sink and was now topping up their tea. Such simple domesticity.

However, Gracie was expecting a reply to her question and he decided that it was time to reveal a little of himself.

"What can you call me? Well, it's actually Thomas William Fitzalan-Howard but you can call me Bill -- everyone else does."

He watched her over the rim of his cup as he drank. She was in a very fragile emotional state and yet at the same time she seemed almost high with her freedom.

"Is there anyone you need to call? Parents, friends, anyone? And don't worry about the room. I've kept the bookings clear until May. The weather has been terrible, cold and wet, and everyone is feeling the pinch in their pockets at the moment so I'm taking the opportunity to carry out some renovations. You can stay here if you like although there is a cottage further up the valley. It's a little remote but I like it when the village here gets over run with tourists. And you'll want some clothes. Give me a minute and I'll see what I can find."

In the linen cupboard on the first floor there was a couple of cardboard boxes full of clothes that guests had left behind. It had all been laundered ready for the charity shops. There was also another box of other items including jewellery, false teeth, clocks and watches, various items of a personal sexual nature and even a prosthetic limb, all unclaimed even though he 'knew' the owners from the hotel records. He had never figured out how anyone could forget their prosthetic limb. Perhaps the owner had used it for something else other than walking.

Who knew.

He grabbed the box marked 'female' and carried it into Gracie's room; she'd be sure to find something that fitted her, even if the final look might have been a little strange.

Back in the kitchen he smiled at Gracie.

"Ok I've put some clothes in your room that you can try. Don't worry how you look, there's no one on the hills to see you, no photographers, and I promise I won't tell although I can't vouch for Jessie. Come on down when you're ready. There's a collection of wellington boots out the back and a couple of coats you can try. I'll be out in the yard. Just give me one of your Hellos."

She stood and fidgeted a bit making sure the robe was well tied, and then took her cup of tea with her to finish upstairs.

At the kitchen door she looked back and nodded towards the hall, thinking of her girlfriends.

"I'll take you up on that phone call, thank you. I shan't be long and the breakfast was lovely. Thank you."

The dynamic from the previous evening had changed quite a bit and she wasn't sure if she should consider remaining in her room or leaving for the cottage he'd mentioned but she decided on staying, just waiting to see if today continued on a more positive path before making up her mind. 'If we've not killed one another by the end of the day' she mused, 'then I'll know if I'm comfortable enough to stay in the hotel.' The fact he was married helped a little but not much. Any man that treated his wife the way he seemed to treat his, as far as she was concerned, needed a smack with the butt of a nice hard bat so she just smiled and took herself back to the phone and called Annabelle. Jane would already have left for work by now but Annabelle would be sure to be at home and when she heard her saying Hi, she burst into tears. Questions about her welfare, her where abouts all got sobbed at her down the line, and the big one really made her feel very sorry for what she'd done.

"Why didn't you tell us you were unhappy? Why didn't you trust us enough to be there for you and come to one of us to stay?"

She had no answers for her friend, only that she was ok, safe and that she loved her and trusted her, but that this had been something unplanned and that again she was sorry. It was all she kept saying and Annabelle's crying had her crying so she told her where she was and that she mustn't let anyone know except for Jane and she mustn't tell anyone else either. No one, not even her parents, especially her parents. It felt like she was hiding from the KGB but apart from the taxi driver and her two closest friends nobody else knew. She was going to ask her friend how Charles was but that could prove to be a possible link between her and Annabelle so she decided against it. Charles would be alright, probably screwing one of the bridesmaids, and she felt a wave of relief that it wasn't her in his bed expected to do her marital duty.

In her room her tea had cooled too much to finish and she disliked the guilty feeling that was tightening her tummy to sickness. Her decision had been based solely on her need to get away fast yesterday morning and she'd not given much thought to anyone else left to face the storm.

She went through the box of clothes and found two sweaters that looked warm and comfortable, a pair of sweats and a well-worn pair of jeans. The jeans fitted pretty well and the fisherman's sweater was soft and chunky, the kind of clothing that one feels safe in curled up with ice cream and chocolate on a miserable day. She had no underwear and of course there was none in the box but she wasn't too busty and sometimes in tight fitting jeans she'd go without panties, so she was quite at ease without them now. With her hair brushed, teeth cleaned and a pair of bright pink socks on her feet she made her way back to the kitchen and found the back door with an array of boots. The second pair she tried fitted and, although she must have looked like a farmer's wife, she thought it ironic in the way she'd been misusing that well-earned title in referring to Bill. She headed outside to find him.

Behind the hotel there were two areas, one a beer garden heavily decked with flower tubs and garden furniture and also flowering shrubs, offering little sections of privacy, and at the bottom a huge stone shed that was probably the original smithy complete with anvil, all beautifully preserved and maintained.

The other area was separated from the beer garden by a stone wall and closed to the public. This was the working area and she suspected that was where Bill was. A lean-to housed kegs of beer and crates of minerals and there was also a large open fronted barn and workshop.

"Hello?" she called.

Bill replied. "Over here."

She turned and gave a tight little smile of politeness as she saw him, tucking her hands in her back pockets as she walked towards him.

Bill carried on working. There was no point in letting her think that the world up here turned only for her.

A wise old farmer had once told him: 'If you can't talk and work then don't talk'.

"Hi, come on through, I'm just sorting out our transport."

He used a quad bike to drive up to the high pastures; it was just so much quicker and Jessie liked to ride with him.

When eventually he finished on the bike he turned to look for her and had to smile at what he saw.

"Well, I've seen you in your wedding dress, in a state of partial undress last night, in a dressing gown this morning and as you are now and I have to say this is by far the better version. How are the clothes and the boots?"

She looked a little bashful but he guessed that all this was very new to her. It was one thing living on Mummy and Daddy's estate in Surrey but he suspected that all she saw of it was the tennis court and swimming pool. The real estate where the work was done wouldn't have been in her field of vision. Sad really because the real estate, the real world, was the most rewarding and interesting.

"Your gardens are beautiful; the whole place is actually far more so than I gave credit when I got here last night."

"Thank you, that's a nice thing to say. Look I know you were in a bit of a state when you got here last night and you really rubbed me up the wrong way but I'll admit that I took advantage of you and I shouldn't have. But this is a working farm and there's work to be done, so you're welcome to come along but it's not sightseeing nor a picnic in the countryside." He pointed to the quad.

"Ever been on one of these before? Not quite a Ducati but it goes well enough. You sit here on the back and you'll have to put your arms around me and hang on tight, ok? Jessie has gone on ahead but we'll soon catch her up."

He got on the bike and started it.

"Oh by the way, you look very pretty and very country. I might even introduce you to some of my friends." he said with a grin.

His compliment on her rather hap-hazard but comfy appearance flattered her, even if she'd preferred for it not to. She smiled, looking away a little self-consciously, and felt challenged for something to say. But Bill was full of chat, pleased that she liked his garden and then he surprised her with the grace to admit to his tasteless humour the evening before. All told, so far, this was going rather well.

How wrong could she be.

Riding on the quad wasn't a problem for her, neither was holding on to him, as he said, for safety of course. The problem was that poor creature of a wife he'd said had gone on alone ahead of him and Gracie could only assume he'd made her walk while his Lordship had the quad. For all his bonhomie just now, he was at heart a misogynist, treating his wife like that. Gracie really wanted to meet his wife and tell her a few home truths about how he'd treated her the previous evening and give her some sound advice on deserving better and rising up against him and then, to cap it all, his offer to introduce her to some of his friends was beyond comedy. She could see herself sitting in the parlour, at least that's what she suspected he'd call the sitting room, with a table full of toothless farmers, no doubt accompanied by their brainless sons looking for a wife to take home and run their farms while they lazed about in the local.

It could have been a replay of the Sabine Women.

But her first concern was his poor wife. Gracie had managed to escape the clutches of marriage to Charles and she wasn't prepared to see his poor hapless wife live in this man's shadow any longer.

With all this in mind she mounted the quad and was glad that she wouldn't have to look at him whilst on it.

Nevertheless, there was advantage in being polite, even to farmers, so she smiled sweetly and patted the seat in front of her.

But in all of this Gracie was conflicted.

There's something about a man with grime on his chin and sweat on his brow that any woman can appreciate and Bill Howard was one such man, in fact as handsome a man as she'd ever met. None of that pretty boy look that unfortunately seemed more and more prevalent in the city. She couldn't see him gelling his hair every morning and standing by his wardrobe wondering which tie looked best with his new Armani suit. No, she'd bet that he got up, showered, perhaps shaved every other day or so, and dressed looking just as he did now and just waltzed through the day looking all yummy. What a pity, such a waste. Probably married his wife's money to be able to afford the land. God, she hoped that poor Jessie had her name on everything and knew her rights when it came to claiming her share. Of course, Gracie had good connections in legal circles back in London and as she watched Bill her smile warmed, thinking of him getting his balls kicked in a nice settlement dispute with his wife. She ran her hands down her thighs. She could smell blood, his blood, but it wasn't time yet. She wanted him to be unaware of her feelings about his attitude to his wife so she tried a little charm.

"I think I'm going to enjoy my stay. You've managed to make my own little woes seem tiny suddenly. All this lovely country side, a morning out, meeting your Jessie. Yes, I should really thank you."

She patted the seat in front of her again, eager to get going.

Bill noted the edge of sarcasm in Gracie's voice and wondered what in hell's name was bugging her now.

He thought he knew what it was but of course for any man to make the assumption that he really knows what a woman is thinking is a very dangerous thing. Even asking wouldn't necessarily produce a straight answer.

'What are you thinking?' 'Oh, this and that.' or 'Are you happy?' 'Yes of course I'm happy.' but with the unspoken sub-text 'How can you ask that when I'm feeling like this.'

He'd have to put his theory to the test. If he was right then he thought the day might be won but if not then they were in for a miserable time.

He smiled as Gracie patted the seat in front of her. She looked better this morning without all her wedding makeup and that awful hair do. He definitely preferred women to be 'au naturel'. After all, why would a woman as beautiful as Gracie want to hide what nature had bestowed on her and he knew that the mountain air would make her positively glow.

He climbed on in front of her and turned to face her.

"Ok, arms round my waist and hands clasped together, tight. The ground is rough and I don't want you falling off. If I go too fast just yell. Ok?"

She nodded and he started the bike and headed off up the pasture, gunning the throttle.

It was a great feeling riding the quad as it bucked and leapt, throwing spray from the streams that they crossed. The weather was still good but the early red sky was fulfilling its promise of rain to come with darkening clouds spreading in from the west. This was the kind of weather that caught walkers unaware, with the clouds closing in, clinging tightly to the hill tops and reducing visibility to a few yards in a matter of minutes. That's when they'd become disorientated and if they didn't fall then the cold penetrating drizzle would get the ones who weren't prepared with proper clothing. The silly thing was that even a plastic bin liner would save most from getting wet and allowing hypothermia to set in.

About ten minutes of fast driving got them a thousand feet above the village and in the distance, he spotted Jessie. He stopped the bike and with his fingers give a long whistle.

Within less than a minute she was with them, leaping onto his lap and licking at his face and then scrambling over him to give Gracie the same treatment.

"Gracie, this is Jessie. Jessie, this is Gracie."

Gracie couldn't help but laugh seeing the greeting he got but it completely overturned her preconception of Bill the misogynist, the man who sent his poor downtrodden wife out into the cold and wet at all hours to do the drudgery that he wouldn't do.

Why had he let her be so mistaken? All right, so he wasn't married and Jessie was this loving dog that was now greeting both of them but this was just as bad as the way he'd misled her the previous afternoon about the taxi ride to another hotel.

Why was he so bloody difficult, so, so ...ugh!

Some men are just impossible to like she concluded but sitting astride the quad on the ride up the mountain, hanging on to him for dear life, was a situation that on any other day she'd have found very arousing and a random thought of Charles riding a quad bike popped into her head and she had to supress a smile. With Charles, passion was something that flared rarely, usually with the aid of a lot of alcohol, and always with a feeling of embarrassment on her part as he was so uncomfortable with displays of emotion, even less so with displays of passion. He hadn't been the most sexual of men and she had more often than not found she was left unsatisfied, having to smile and project a bliss that simply ached to be released. As much as she disliked the way Bill had played her for a fool with the taxi and his supposed wife, she had no doubt that sexually the man, when he wanted to, would be an animal in bed but then in a remote community like this the question arose as to just how many beds he'd occupied and she reflected on her earlier thought that they must all be interbred with a large number of the offspring being fathered by Bill.

She looked around at the scenery which to her eyes was pure heaven, the pastures rolling for miles, rising up to the harder accessed lands on the higher ground still some thousands of feet above them.

She wasn't ordinarily one to draw conclusions about anyone, especially one that she'd just met, but she'd built an entire life for this man in her head, all on complete supposition, that now she couldn't even remember the beginning of. Perhaps because she'd landed herself in the mess she was in she was open to being a little sensitive to anything she saw that she might disapprove of and as their initial meeting the night before had been so bad, with her believing he was an ass in seconds, it compounded her reasons to dislike and disapprove of him with a fantasy that was now shaming her.

Jessie continued to lick Gracie, so excited to meet another person who was with her master.

"She's lovely...beautiful dog aren't you pet?"

She patted her and gave her an extra little hug. Awkwardness hung its ugly hand on her shoulder and she needed to get away. Shame wasn't an emotion that Gracie was familiar with. In her life, problems were the result of other people's mistakes or bad intentions but now, perhaps for the first time, she felt ashamed and needed to be away from Bill, Jessie and the beautiful countryside that was part of his life.

"I think I'll walk back down. I guess I'm not as cut out for this as I would have liked to think."

The reality was she loved everything about it but it was easier to just go, to make herself appear disenchanted with her surroundings, and let him think what he wanted of her. She was sure he didn't like her anyway with what he probably saw as her snobbish attitudes and she was equally sure that he was setting her up for another fall. She took a couple of steps back from him and that notion angered her again. She looked from him to Jessie and back again, wringing her hands, feeling stupid and desperately unsure of her own judgment, a judgment that had of late completely abandoned her, and she did what she did the night before, just lashed out.

"You knew all along didn't you. You knew that I thought Jessie was a woman, that Jessie was your wife. You, you fucking farmer. Have I got something written on me that says 'Hurt me?' The hell with you Thomas William Fitzalan-Howard. For all your fine name you're no bloody gentleman."