Dancing the Maypole (25 page)

“For six months
the wench looked as though she’d swallowed a large pumpkin and then
she had a babe in arms. We didn’t think anything of it until…” John
Smirke’s pretty face contorted with rage. “…until that ugly
innkeeper came into my cornfield and started shouting he would kill
me for ruining his little girl. As if I wouldn’t rather be hung
drawn and quartered than touch the ugly wench. There were two
easels standing with partially finished paintings. Anyone with eyes
and half a brain should have known I was there with my wife.”

“Why couldn’t
Ugly see Aunt Joan?” asked Cecil.

“Because she
was resting in the corn,” snapped John as he glanced at his
blushing wife.

Cecil stared at
his uncle in disbelief, “How could anyone sleep in a cornfield with
all those bugs hopping about?”

“I was making
love to my wife in my corn field!” shouted John. “Do you want me to
draw you a picture? We had to crawl for our lives while Ugly tried
to shoot us. I was then ordered before the parish vestry, a group
of constipated ugly men who dream of burning me at the stake, and
accused of ravishing Miss Ugly. As if I haven’t spent the last
three years being a wretched saint! I insisted I was innocent and
they all sat there glaring at me as though I was the devil. The
lying hussy refused to change her story. She kept insisting
I’d…ugh! The thought makes me sea sick. I escaped the whipping post
by agreeing to give Miss Ugly a small fortune and accepting full
responsibility for the infant. One of you will give me my money and
take this black eyed brat.”

“We can’t give
her away Smirkie!” cried Joan. “She adores you. She’ll cry herself
to death.”

“Joanie, she
isn’t mine. She isn’t yours. She’s someone else’s future
problem.”

“I want to
adopt her.” Joan smiled at the baby. “You want to live with your
beautiful Uncle Smirkie, don’t you little one? He’ll keep you safe
from all the evil men, because he’s met them all. He won’t let
anyone hurt you…”

John Smirke
rolled his eyes at the ceiling, “Daughters are expensive. They need
dowries, new dresses every year and money to throw away on useless
gewgaws and dust collecting rubbish.” John sighed as if he knew
he’d lose the battle. “I’m not going to deprive my wife so I can
save money for a dowry to pay some fool to take another man’s brat
off my hands. Why should I?”

“Because,” said
Joan. “She’s family and it’s the kind thing to do. You need your
Uncle Smirkie, don’t you my sweet?”

“She needs the
Foundling Hospital,” snapped John.

“I want to be a
mother,” said Joan.

“You don’t need
children; you have me. Someone else can hold the brat and get piss
on his coat sleeves.”

His wife leaned
over and kissed the baby’s cheek. “Uncle Smirkie will let you stay.
You’ll see!”

“I won’t let
her stay. If Lucius bed Miss Ugly he can take his daughter and pay
me my money.”

“I bed several
obliging ladies during my short visit,” said Lucius, “but none of
them were ugly. She isn’t mine.”

“You’re
lying!”

“Why would I
lie? I can afford to hire a wet nurse. If she survived infancy I’d
send her to one of those schools where they deal with these things,
but she isn’t mine. I take precautions against this sort of
situation. It wouldn’t do for one of my married lovers to give
birth to a black eyed Smirke. The husband might think you’d
ravished his wife and kill you. Joan would be heartbroken.”

Joan’s eyes
filled with tears. “Oh Smirkie you can’t let her be sent off to
school. That’s what happened to me. She’ll grow up unloved and
alone, beaten by cruel ugly people. You can take the cost of her
wet nurse off my dress allowance. She’ll soon learn you can’t hold
her all day. You’re too good and kind to let an innocent soul
suffer…”

“If we keep her
the whole of Lincolnshire will think I’m the father. I’ll
suffer!”

His wife folded
her arms and turned away with an unspoken threat to ignore him. “If
you don’t keep her, I’ll think you heartless.”

The reformed
rakehell’s eyes burned with impotent rage as all five of his
nephews snickered in amusement. “Fine! We’ll keep the brat and
everyone will assume I ravished Miss Ugly. Satisfied?”

“Yes…oh look,
she’s smiling…she knows she gets to stay with her beautiful Uncle
Smirkie.”

John Smirke
grimaced at the happy baby, “How am I supposed to carry a brat and
save you from mishap? I have only two arms and two legs.”

Cosmo set his
plate on his chair and crossed the room to stare down at the tiny
creature wrapped in an Indian shawl. “It’s strange to think we were
all once so small and ugly.”

“You’re still
small and ugly…if you stand next to me,” said Robert.

Cosmo ignored
his brother and smiled at the large black eyes staring up at him.
“What are you going to name her?”

John Smirke
glared in suspicion, “Cosima might be appropriate.”

“Cosmo can’t be
the father,” said Robert, meeting his brother’s gaze with an
innocent expression. “How could he? The babe’s mother would have
died of boredom before he finished lecturing her on the odds of
surviving childbed.”

“Shut up
Robert!” snapped Cosmo.

“That was
rather unkind of me. It’s more likely she fainted from boredom, and
he finished the deed without needing to, as the books say, ‘make
her happy’.”

Standing up,
Lord Adderbury eyed each of his sons with his spine-chilling glare.
“To the d-d-drawing room!”

Charles
remained seated as his brothers obediently stood. “She isn’t mine
Papa. If I wished to bed one of Uncle John’s neighbours there are
half a dozen pretty ladies willing to…”

“Now!”
Adderbury’s command left no room for argument.

Five minutes
later the drawing room door was firmly closed and all five brothers
stood in a row facing their father. “Cecil Francis, did you b-bed
Miss Ugly?”

“I’ve never bed
a woman though I’ve been sorely tempted. On one occasion…”

“George
Eugène?”

“No! I couldn’t
use a woman and leave her carrying my child. I’d have to marry her,
but I don’t want to marry just anyone. I want to find my soulmate
and make love to her with my heart. I couldn’t bear it if I had to
marry…”

“Charles
Vincent?”

Charles winced
in disgust, “I wouldn’t touch Mary Ugly; not even to help her out
of the mud.”

“Can you give
the same answer as your brothers?”

Charles folded
his arms and stared past his father. “I’m a grown man Papa. What I
do or don’t do in private is my affaire.”

“Private?”
shouted Adderbury. “How would you feel if I’d used your mother and
abandoned the pair of you at the mercy of her family or the local
parish? Would you c-c-categorise that as a private affaire?”

“Papa,”
interrupted Cecil, “Charles isn’t Uncle John. Fondling a widow,
whether she can see or not, doesn’t make one a rakehell. Sadly, in
this case, Charles is the one who’s blind.”

“Shut up Cecil!
Why don’t you tell Papa about the widows you’ve fondled this
week?”

“He didn’t ask
me if I’d fondled any widows.”

“What b-b-blind
widow?” shouted Adderbury.

Cecil shook his
head, “Charles thinks the Widow Malet is in love with him, but I’ll
wager a gold guinea she’s pregnant with the blacksmith’s brat.”

Charles held up
a clenched fist, “Slander my friend again and I’ll pummel you!”

“Don’t be a
fool Charles. The woman is using you.”

Their father
looked as if he’d been hit over the head with a mallet. “The Widow
Malet? She’s…she’s thirty-three if a d-day…”

Charles
blushed, “She’s thirty-two. What does it signify?”

“It signifies,”
shouted Adderbury, “that she’s b-been alive twelve years longer
than you.”

“So? She loves
me!”

“Son, any
sensible woman would love you, but the Widow Malet… She’s
blind!”

“Exactly!”
shouted Charles. “She loves me for who I am not for my stupid
pretty face.”

Adderbury shook
his head as if waking up from a bad dream to find his house on
fire. “She loves the fact you’re a wealthy young idiot. I forbid
the marriage!”

“I’m twenty-one
Papa. I’ll marry whomever I please. Widow Malet doesn’t need eyes
to see my heart. We have a natural affinity. She understands me
better than you ever will.”

Cecil groaned
as if halfway through a boring play. “Just because she’s blind
doesn’t mean she’s kind. The lady didn’t weep on your neck and beg
you to remain in Adderbury for nothing. When we return, she’ll look
as if she’s swallowed a prize melon. Don’t be surprised when she
names you as the cause of her expanding girth.”

“Keep your
opinion to yourself!” shouted Charles. “You don’t know her!”

“I have two
eyes and two ears unaffected by lust. The lady never passes up an
opportunity to grope the blacksmith, though to be fair she gropes
me every time I’m within reach. The first few times I thought I was
imagining it…”

“You’re
prejudice because she’s blind! She’s a good woman, and she loves
me.”

“I’m sorry
Charles,” said Cecil, “she’s not a good woman and she doesn’t love
you.”

“Shut up Cecil!
Sometimes you’re worse than Cosmo!”

“What do you
mean he’s worse than me? Charles, what are you talking about?”
Cosmo’s question went unanswered as Charles stormed from the room,
slamming the door. “What did he mean?”

“It’s nothing.”
Said Cecil.

“It’s obviously
something or he wouldn’t have made me sound like a plague…”

“Cosmo
Xavier!”

The young man’s
spine stiffened in self-defence at his father’s accusatory tone.
“What?”

“Are you the
father?”

Cosmo cringed
in horror, “Ugh! No!”

“Robert
Benjamin?”

“I’d never do
anything that would make you ashamed of me Papa.” Robert’s voice
rang with well-practised sincerity.

“I’m relieved
to hear it,” said Lord Adderbury. “I wish to speak with Cosmo in
private. The rest of you may go.”

Absorbed in
painful thoughts, Cosmo automatically turned to follow his brothers
from the room. “Cosmo Xavier Smirke!” Hearing his father say his
full name in a cold tone sent a surge of indignation through
Cosmo’s body.

Squaring his
shoulders, Cosmo tipped back his head to meet his father’s glare.
“Why are you addressing me like a thieving footman?”

“Are you the
father of that infant? I want the truth.”

Cosmo tried to
take a deep breath, but his throat was constricted by outrage. “Not
unless Miss Ugly broke into Uncle John’s house and ravished me in
my sleep. I can’t stand the chit. The girl has a cowpat for a
heart.”

“You’re the
only one who looked at the infant!” The accusatory tone made it
clear, his father thought Cosmo the guilty man.

“I wanted to
know what she looked like,” sneered Cosmo. “Is curiosity now a
crime?”

“I don’t like
your flippant tone. A child has been given life.”

“Not by me!”
shouted Cosmo. “I’ve never even kissed a girl.”

“So you say,
but you’re obviously desperate for female attention. A woman shows
you a hint of kindness, and you’re all over her. Did the ugly girl
encourage you to fumble her behind a haystack?”

“Who am I all
over?” demanded Cosmo. “What are you talking about?”

“Mademoiselle
de Bourbon, a woman nearly old enough to be your mother. If a lady
is kind and listens to your facts, it d-doesn’t mean she’s in love
with you.”

Cosmo gargled
on rage as he stood on tiptoe to better meet his father’s angry
eyes. “If that’s what you think of me, I’ve wasted years trying to
be good when I could have been whoring my way through Oxfordshire
leaving a Smirke brat in every village.”

“I’d find it
easier to b-believe you were good if you hadn’t been forced to
share your inheritance with your brothers. Cecil informed me that
they forced you into having a draw. You gave up four properties you
swore you’d rather d-die than share. An honourable man doesn’t need
to buy silence.”

The accusation
stabbed Cosmo in the ribs as a horrible pain in his chest made him
feel sick and lonely.

“Well?” roared
Adderbury. “What did you do?”

“I lied to the
dying. I said anything I could think of that would persuade them to
make me their heir. And since you think me the lowliest of worms,
it shouldn’t surprise you to know that I sometimes cheat at cards.
I have no fair advantage so I make my luck. I gave up four
properties because I didn’t want you to think ill of me. I didn’t
want you to know that I cheat at life. I sacrificed a fortune to
keep your good opinion, an opinion you obviously never had. As for
Mademoiselle, your mind is a gutter. I wish she were my mother,
then I’d have one person in my family whose eyes would light up on
seeing me. I can’t wait till I reach my majority. On the morning of
my twenty-first birthday, I’m going to buy a seat on the mail coach
and I won’t look back. I’ll send my own carriage for my trunks. I
promise you won’t have to endure my offensive boring company one
hour longer than legally necessary.” Cosmo swivelled on his heel
and marched for the door.

“Where are you
g-going?”

“To find a
whore!” shouted Cosmo over his shoulder.

*

Feeling sick,
Peter flinched as the door slammed shut and angry footsteps marched
away. “That was a pretty piece of parenting Peter Augustus.” Peter
turned to find the romantic agent standing right behind him. “What
next? Are you going to accuse Mademoiselle of being a French spy?
The boy is an innocent, or at least he will be until a poxed wench
fumbles his pockets.”

“He looked
g-guilty.”

Agent 1680
raised an eyebrow, “You looked intelligent.”

“Are you here
to help or insult me? Is one of my sons the father of that
infant?”