Smirke 01 - An Unlikely Hero (14 page)

John’s legs
threatened to buckle as he dismounted at The White Hart; an Inn
perched on the river’s edge. He sighed with relief as Peter’s
servant appeared out of the thin fog, “I’ll hold the horse
Jennings; help Miss Lark down.”

“Very good
Sir…”

“Be careful
Jennings, don’t drop her…here take the blasted horse. I’ll help
her.” John caught Joan as she slid down on her stomach and wrapped
his left arm around her waist. “Saddle the fresh horse. We’ll only
be a few minutes.” Once inside the Inn, John wisely steered Joan
away from the rough looking men drinking near the fire. “Open that
bundle woman and start scoffing biscuits.” Joan was too cold to
complain. Crumbs spattered the stone floor as John energetically
took his own advice.

After ten
minutes of standing still Joan moaned in pain, “I feel like a
cripple, my hip aches.”

“At least you
don’t feel like you’ve been kicked in the backside. Cecil’s right
blast him. You’re not rubbing hard enough, here let me do it.”

“Oh!” Joan
squeaked in delight as John turned her away from him, put a bracing
arm around her middle and started kneading her sore hip.

“Lift your leg
at the knee…put it down. How is that?”

“It’s quite
pleasant…I can smell lemon drops and ginger.”

“Gow on…take
er, you pretty toff, if yer know ‘ow. We’d be appy to oblige a
demonstration if yer need it.”

John’s temper
rolled to a boil as a dirty boatmen leered from across the room.
“We’re leaving now, before I kill someone. Don’t say a…”

“Are you
insulting my guardian you great ugly lump? You’re no match for my
Mr Smirke. He’s renown for his wickedness…he’s killed lots of ugly
great brutes bigger than you.”

“Is that right
Missy? I could take im with one hand.”

John was
quickly dragging Joan towards the door. “You couldn’t take him if
you had three hands.” Joan took a bite out of a biscuit and threw
the rest of it at the man’s head. The large man laughed until a
second biscuit hit him in the eye. His roar of pain prompted John
to speed up their departure.

“Jennings!”
The servant walking the fresh mare turned to see John running
towards him lugging Miss Lark who was still throwing biscuits at an
angry lurching boatman followed by a laughing audience. John didn’t
have time to think about his healing injuries. Joan was picked up
with difficulty and thrown over the horse like a sack of flour.
Clutching the reins in one hand and Joan with the other, John
heeled the animal into action. They were galloping towards Bristol
before John could get both boots in the stirrups. A safe mile down
the road he pulled the horse to a stop and dragged his moaning
companion into an upright position and then stood in his stirrups
and wriggled about.

“What are you
doing? You’re going to push me off the horse.”

“I’m adjusting
my seat before I get a devilish saddle sore.” John settled back
down and avoided wide eyes.

“Are you mad
at me?”

“You idiot,
you nearly got me killed! Throw those blasted biscuits into the
ditch before I do something wicked.” John cringed in horror as
large tears dripped down pale cheeks.

“You think I’m
an idiot?”

“Please don’t
cry Miss Lark, it makes me feel like a maggot.”

“Calling me an
idiot makes you a maggot. It’s unkind and I don’t like you when
you’re unkind. I don’t want to marry a man who thinks I’m an idiot.
I want to go home.”

“Don’t be
ridiculous…you’re not an idiot you’re; infuriating, maddening,
disarming…exquisite.” He gently wiped away her tears with his cold
fingers. “Oh blast, I forgot my gloves.”

“You think I’m
exquisite?”

John shivered
with pleasure as she leaned back towards him. “You’re the most
demented exquisite female I’ve ever met, but unless you want me to
die a painful death and end up in hell, I beg you…try not to enrage
large drunken men to pummel me.”

“I’ll forget
you called me an idiot, if you kiss me.” John earned forgiveness
with a thorough kiss that left his bride to be with bright cheeks
that matched her lips. “Do you want a biscuit?” Joan shoved one
into his open mouth as he urged the horse into a slow trot. “I was
only trying to scare him so he’d leave us alone. I’d have poked out
his eyes if he laid one finger on you.”

“If I survive
to become your husband, I’m going to spend so much time kissing
you; you won’t have breath to incite another riot.”

“If you kiss
me again I’ll give you another biscuit.” John willing paid the
required price and took the biscuit. Joan wrapped her arm around
his middle and pressed her cheek against his coat as horses hooves
thundered over the miles.

***

Navigating
Bristol traffic John finally reached his destination with every
manly muscle in his body cursing his inability to wait three
painless weeks to acquire a wife. The horse stabled, John took out
his pocket watch as he pulled Joan in the direction of the Bishop’s
house. It was just coming up to nine o’clock. He sighed with relief
as he tucked it back into his trouser pocket. If the Bishop hurried
they could be back on the road in half an hour. Glancing down he
forgot his own discomfort as he noticed Joan was shivering as she
limped. The new pleasurable feelings caused by her nearness
contorted with worry. What if she caught a chill and died of fever?
The worry twisted into agonising fear. The thought of losing her to
death made him feel physically sick. “We’ll find an Inn and spend a
few minutes in front of a fire. They’re bound to have something hot
to help wash down a few blasted biscuits.”

“That sounds
heavenly Mr Smirke. You’re very good to me, when you’re not being
horrid. That’s one thing I love about you; I never know what you’re
going to do next…don’t you love the colour of that door? Did you
see those winter roses?” She clutched his left arm and leaned her
cheek against his shoulder as he pulled the Bishop’s bell. “Have
you bought my wedding ring?”

“No we’ll have
to borrow one for the ceremony. I’ll buy you one tomorrow.”

“Can I have a
gold ring with a large ruby? I’ve always wanted a ruby. A big one,
not one of those cheap little stones that look like glass…”

“Shhh
someone’s coming.” The door was opened by a footman in serviceable
black.

“Yes?”

“We’ve come
from Bath to purchase a common license from the Bishop.”

“Bishop Mansel
does not rise before nine-thirty. Return after eleven and he’ll
oblige you.” The awful words sank into John’s heart poisoning the
tender seeds of kindness.

“I haven’t
abused my backside or endangered the life of my bride this early in
the morning to wait for some fat cleric to get out of bed and stuff
himself with raspberry tarts paid for with my tithe taxes. Go tell
Bishop Mansel that Lord Adderbury’s brother wishes to purchase a
license so as to be married in Bath by noon…”

“Bishop Mansel
has given strict…”

The footman
squeaked in terror as he was forcibly taken hold of by his cravat
and pulled within inches of black marble eyes. “Tell the Bishop the
Honourable John Smirke wishes an immediate audience or he’ll wish
you had.”

The footman
drew in a loud breath as he was released. “I’ll inquire…” John took
a deep painful breath of freezing air as the door slammed closed.
After several long silent minutes of staring at the door he slowly
glanced at the woman at his side and snarled as his insides twisted
in agony. She was looking at him as if he was a used chamber pot
left lying in the middle of a room.

“That was very
unkind Mr Smirke. You don’t choke a footman for doing his job. Are
you going to choke me if I don’t do what you want?”

“I’d never
hurt you…” The truth of the words rushed through John’s heart
like antidote to the poison as he reached out and caressed her
cheek with a cold finger.

Her expression
of disgust faded to sadness. “He couldn’t breathe Mr Smirke.”

“He’s fetching
that lazy man of God out of bed now isn’t he?”

“You should
apologise to the poor man and tell him you’re sorry you lost your
temper.”

“Apologise? To
a footman?”

“I thought you
were trying to be kind?”

“I am! I
didn’t kill him did I?” John’s shoulders slumped as his stomach was
filled with an unpleasant burning sensation. “How can you look at
me like that if you love me?” He blinked away a threatening storm
as he groped for reassurance.

“I do love
you. I just don’t like you when you’re horrid.” John folded his
arms and tried to think his hands warm and his heart at peace, but
failed. After ten minutes of uncomfortable silence the door was
cautiously opened by the wary footman.

“The Bishop
will see you.”

As the footman
closed the door John avoided Joan’s unhappy eyes. “I’m sorry I lost
my temper Man…” Joan’s frown faded. “…and choked you. Racing the
clock to wed a woman affects a man…”

“Very good
Sir, if you’ll follow me Sir.” John forgot to scowl at the
unforgiving servant as Joan tucked her hand around his arm, her
adoring smile proclaiming him once again liked as well as loved.
The warm pleasurable sensation oozed back into his chest as he
stepped into an elegant pale salmon pink Salon. The aging Bishop
stood in the middle of the room, his nightdress covered by a faded
red banyan that swished around his naked ankles. The footman closed
the door prompting John to lead his bride up to the grim looking
gentleman.

“Good morning
my Lord, it was good of you to leave your warm bed to help us. We
are in desperate need of a marriage license.”

“Is she with
child?”

“I’m here to
buy a wedding license to marry the chit. I obviously don’t care if
she comes with a brat or a bundle of biscuits.”

“Hmmm…” The
negative unhelpful sound soured John’s forced smile. He could see
nothing in the room that might conceal ink, pen and a printed form.
“It’s uncanny; you look just like your father except that he was a
good man.”

“Yes he was.
We don’t have time for pleasantries. We have a journey back to Bath
this morning. If you’ll sell us the license we’ll be on our way.”
John felt strengthened by an adoring smile.

“One of my
brothers married your father’s sister.”

The words
rushed past John’s ears as meaningless chatter. “I’m glad to hear
it. They do say its good luck to have a Bishop in the family.”

“Lady Mary
called on me for moral support when you kidnapped her
daughter.”

Panic squeezed
John’s internal organs. He didn’t want past sins interfering with
his plans for a pleasurable afternoon. “Yes well…I was rather young
and…horrid.”

“Horrid?
Threatening to force yourself on a woman unless she acquiesces to
your wishes is beyond despicable.”

“True. It’s
high on my list of sins to repent I assure you.”

“Repent? You?
Don’t make me sick. Devils don’t repent! You kidnapped her, tied
her up and held her hostage until she consented to marry you. If
anyone mentions you she becomes violently ill.”

“She’s not the
only one.”

“It’s no
laughing matter, you fiend!”

“Am I
laughing? I assume Lady Mary forgot to tell you that your innocent
niece insisted her mother invite me to visit for a few months. I
was lonely with empty pockets and she made it quite clear she was
in love with me. She demanded my kisses and led me a merry chase.
Does it make her ill to mention how she dismissed my genuine offer
of marriage with derisive laughter because I was a third son
without anything, but hope that our great Uncle would finally
succumb to the pox and leave me his property? She played me for a
pretty fool.”

“You heartless
knave, you left her naked on her mother’s doorstep with the word
‘punk’ written all over her…skin…”

“So I did. I
recall my finger was ink stained for days.”

“Infidel!”

“I’m not here
for a moral lecture my Lord. I don’t care what you think of me.
Sell us a marriage license before I lose my temper.”

The older man
ignored John and stepped closer to inspect Joan through the glasses
sitting on the end of his nose. “How old are you child?”

“Eighteen my
Lord.”

“Where are
your parents? Do they know you’re in the clutches of a heartless
fiend?”

“My parents
are dead my Lord, but…”

“You must have
a guardian. There has to be someone who’ll defend you. This villain
can’t legally marry you without your guardian’s permission.”

“Mr Smirke is
my legal guardian.”

“I don’t know
what trickery he’s…”

Frozen black
eyes narrowed, “Miss Lark is my legal ward and we wish to marry.
Give us the paperwork or you’ll wish you had…”

“Indeed my
Lord, I know Mr Smirke has been very wicked, but I love him and he
is trying to change. It’s true he’s having difficulty understanding
the concept of being good…”

“Good? You’re
talking about one of Satan’s favourite servants.”

“To hell with
Hell; I’m going to Heaven if I have to die of boredom!”

“I know Mr
Smirke isn’t perfect, but neither are you. How do we know that you
haven’t been a fiend?” John smiled as the older man flushed a deep
purple.

“How dare you
compare me with that devil? His soul is as black as his eyes.”

“You don’t
know anything about my soul and if you keep trying to turn my ward
against me I’ll…blast revenge to hell.” John started cracking the
knuckles of his left hand as he tried to stay calm. “I have every
right to marry Miss Lark. Sell me the license!”

“Mr Smirke is
trying very hard to be good. Forgive him for being horrid to your
niece and let us have the paper. He’s not well. We need to marry so
he can sleep in my bed. He’s in desperate need of a wife’s loving
touch…”

“I will never
forgive that smirking devil for insulting my darling Annabelle.
You’re clearly confused child; he’s probably drugged your
food.”