II.v A Well Aimed Blow

The rigours of time had not been kind to Theodora Thrust-Munch. Even in her salad days, her bland, vaguely porcine features, petulant glibbery and drab opinions had caused her to be swiftly overlooked by many potential suitors. Nevertheless, the onetime heiress to the Brownnose Fortune had caught the roving eye of our young Colonel. Swiftly married, they had tolerated each other’s company for a brief period, both all too oblivious to the true extent of her meagre inheritance. Alas, Norbury's reckless Shove Ha'penny addiction had striped the coffers bare within a few years. Destitution did not come easily to the heiress. The Brownnose Estate fell into a grievous state of disrepair and they had been forced to move into the gatehouse, where living costs could be sustained more readily. Clench was kept on of course; one couldn't be expected to do without life's essentials. This had cemented Clench's devotion to his master; he certainly didn't want to go the way of his father, the universally shunned Arthur Thrope.

Although the smaller quarters and hard times had brought them much closer together, Theodora had always harboured suspicions, especially after she had innocently happened upon Norbury's diaries, which alluded to numerous furtive rendezvous with 'Plethora and Scrunts', fantasies involving 'Jazz Apples' and more recently 'Constance'. She didn't know who or what these first referred to, but she certainly knew of a 'Constance'.

'Norbury, you duplicitous charlatan!' she screamed, marching up the drive, incandescent with rage.
'You...gibbering...flaccid...malevolent...shrivelous... animal!' she continued, her furious strides bringing her ever closer to the distraught pair.
'You worm-riddled greasy skinned noxious funkmonger, I've had enough of your extra-curricular infidelities!' she cried, delivering a well-aimed blow to the Colonel's tender cods with the heel of one fervently buffed riding boot. Norbury scrabbled blindly away, mewling insensibly, nursing his bruised nethers with trembling, cupped hands. A lone tear escaped from the corner of his eye.

'Of all the...' Temporarily at least, he had been reduced to silence.

By this time the majority of the invited had politely made themselves scarce, hastily exiting in shared carriages, maintaining a studied silence on pertinent matters until a comfortable distance had been placed behind them.

Mrs Feltch was an exception. She felt it duty bound to witness first hand any juicy controversy. Takings had been dwindling at The Box Of Frogs of late and this was just what was needed to get customers back through her doors and those coffee pots bubbling again. She couldn't wait to get back to town to begin her whispering campaign, but she dallied a while longer, ears pricked and eagle eyed, drinking in the climax of this turgid scoop. Mrs Feltch was one of the privy few with prior knowledge of Mrs Thrust-Munch; indeed as it was in her very establishment that Miss Bintwrangler had happened to bump into the Colonel for the first auspicious time, so she naturally felt she deserved some kind of reward after her weeks of close observation.

Spittle flying from Theodora's raving lips, a tiny gopet of saliva sailed through the air and landed in Constance's eye leaving her blinking uncontrollably, and now almost apoplectic with rage herself.

'And you!' intoned the intruder, her voice sliding an octave lower as she rounded on Constance, glowering from beneath hooded eyelids heavily caked in eyeshadow. Her penetrating azure eyes, which had been known to have brought many a man to his knees, were now trained accusingly on Miss Bintwrangler.
‘You!’ she repeated ominously.

'No, you!' retorted Miss Bintwrangler, drawing herself up to her full imposing height. 'I don't know who you are; I don't care who you think you are, or who you know. All I do know is that you certainly were not invited. Now get out.'
'And that goes for you too, Colonel.'

With dignity and poise, she carefully took up her skirts and purposefully ascended the stone steps two by two. Once inside, the cool respite of the entrance hall and an acerbic look from Marquise Nomenclature brought her to her senses. She turned abruptly and grasped the door handles in one fluid motion. Head held high, it was all she could do to look the Colonel in the eye as she poignantly closed the double doors and Norbury out of her life.