Smirke 01 - An Unlikely Hero (15 page)

“Mr Smirke
would never…well, he wouldn’t do that sort of thing any more and
I’m not in the least confused. I wish to marry Mr Smirke because I
love him.”

John leaned
forward and sneered in triumph, “She loves me!”

“Go home child
and ponder the fate of ladies chained to lecherous villains. You’re
too young to understand what this man will do to you. He’ll ruin
your life. He’ll use you and cast you off like a soiled
garment.”

“He can’t cast
off a wife…well, not without a petition of divorce, but that would
cost him a fortune and parliament wouldn’t grant it anyway. Not
after I’ve had ten babies with black eyes. Besides, it would break
my heart…I’d cry and then he’d feel like a maggot. You wouldn’t
cast me off would you Mr Smirke?”

“I pray you
never fall in love with another man, I’d kill him. They’d hang me
and I’d end up in hell longing for you without end.”

“How could any
man compare with perfection?”

Smirke sighed
as a large dose of pleasure gushed through his veins. “She loves
me!”

“She’s
obviously blinded by your sickly prettiness. Leave off this
nonsense child. You don’t want to become the property of a
monster.”

“Stop trying
to dissuade her. I deserve to be loved as much as the next man.”
John’s voice rose to an angry shout, “Sell me a blasted license
before I lose my temper and all probability of ending up in
heaven.”

“Leave my
house Mr Smirke and don’t return unless I’m in a sealed lead
coffin.”

“I’m not
leaving without a license.” The Bishop took a hand bell out of his
large pocket and shook it until the doors opened to reveal four
unfriendly footmen clenching their fists in anticipation.
“Blasted…alright…I’m leaving. You’re lucky hell is so unthinkably
awful, because if it wasn’t I’d make you suffer.”

“Get out!”

“With
pleasure…if I have to look at your vomit coloured wallpaper one
more minute I’ll be enhancing the foul design of your pink carpet.”
John put a protective arm around his disheartened bride and led her
back outside into the cold.

“What are we
going to do now Mr Smirke? My hips are aching and I feel
like…sniff…like doing something dreadful to that horrid man. I just
want to be your wife. It was really cold last night. I was looking
forward to warming my feet on your legs this evening.”

“How do you
think I feel? I’m the one whose going to explode if I don’t…don’t
cry Miss Lark, I feel bad enough.” He gently wiped away her tears
with the back of his hand. “This is only a minor set back. We’ll
start for London post chase tomorrow to purchase a special license
from the Archbishop.”

“What if we
reach London and the Archbishop has the plague? I think we should
have the banns read, just in the case we have to return to
Bath.”

“We’re not
having the banns read. Nothing bad is going to happen. We’ll travel
post chase to London and be married before you can say, ‘I need a
new wardrobe’.”

“But what if
the Archbishop won’t marry us? What if he hates you?”

“The
Archbishop will be alive and someone will marry us. Don’t fret
woman, I’ll take care of you. Mamma should have told me that
beastly Mansel was Lady Mary’s brother. I’d have gone straight to
London. Mamma…”

“Never mind
your Mamma, let’s find a fire before we freeze to death.”

“Yes, I need a
private parlour where I can warm your lips.”

“You’re a very
attentive guardian Mr Smirke.” Joan winked calling John’s crooked
smile to his lips.

“I understand
Charity begins at home Miss Lark. Take my arm…limp faster, I need a
kiss.”

The sky was a
soft deepening grey as the couple remounted and ambled out of
Bristol. Every few miles John stopped to warm his hands and thaw
out his lips on his cheerful companion chattering in between
biscuits. “The trees look like their going to reach out and pull us
into a netherworld with their bare branches.” John eyed the evil
looking trees and hurried the horse on. Light was fading by the
time the two weary travellers reached the outskirts of Bath. Joan
pulled her face free of green wool and smiled as black eyes glanced
down, “I feel like I’m in a beautiful painting. You must have been
painted with magical pigments crushed in the mortar of the
Gods.”

“And you must
be God’s new pestle.”

“I’d rather be
a brush. I don’t want to be abrasive.”

“Sometimes
abrasion is highly desirable.” John’s husky words heated Joan’s
cold cheeks.

“That sounds
suspiciously sinful Mr Smirke.”

“Only if I
were to prove the theory before I make you my wife.” There was just
enough light to illuminate black pools of lust.

“Don’t look at
me like that Mr Smirke; I don’t like it.”

John’s lust
crystallized into anger. “You’ll learn to like it!” The words were
cold and brittle. “Playing a simpering Miss at the eleventh hour
will generate no sympathy from me. Agnes talked with you about the
marriage bed yesterday didn’t she? You weren’t shy about climbing
on my horse this morning and sharing my kisses.”

“You’re being
horrid again. Hurry up and take me home I’m freezing.”

John pulled
his resisting ward back into his arms. “Stop squirming or you’ll
fall off the horse. I am not being horrid. It’s perfectly natural
for a man to want to bed his bride. If I didn’t want to bed you I
wouldn’t be risking my neck and sanity to make you my wife.”

“Is that the
only reason you’re marrying me? Because you find me desirable?”

“Well I
wouldn’t marry you if you weren’t desirable.”

“Oh I see. So
if I was like the girl I went to school with whose nurse dropped
her in the fire and who only had one eye and half a head of hair
hidden under a wig you wouldn’t marry me?”

“Good heavens,
I’d never marry a malformed wench. I can’t abide ugly women.” John
squirmed as Joan’s silence became heavier with every few yards.
“There’s no need to sulk; I can’t stand ugly people and that’s
that.” Her reply was to forcefully withdraw her arm from his waist
and take hold of the saddle for support. “Fine! Sulk in silence if
you will; I’d rather have peace and quiet than listen to you
rambling like an idiot anyway.” Her bonnet turned sharply away.
John seethed in silence as Joan regally ignored him.

Night was
wrapping Bath in a freezing mist as John stopped the horse outside
his brother’s house. He could see several dark heads against the
lighted interior watching for them. The front door burst open
spilling Smirkes onto the street. “Where have you two b-b-been?
Mamma’s sick with worry.”

“We’ve been
visiting the fairies.” Peter ignored John’s sarcasm and plucked
Joan off the horse and carried her into the house shouting orders
for someone to help his brother off the horse. John limped into the
green and gold reception room where Joan was being attended like a
princess by his mother. He joined her near the fire and scowled as
servants removed his wet outerwear and handed him a hot cup of tea.
His ill-humour soured as Joan continued to ignore him and his
mother kept glancing at him with a suspiciously unhappy expression.
“If you’d remembered that Mansel is related to Lady Mary Mamma;
we’d have been saved a pointless exercise of freezing half to
death. We’d be over half way to London by now.”

“Huh!” Joan
snorted in contempt. “What Mr Smirke has neglected to tell you is
that if he hadn’t tried to strangle the footman we might have been
sold a license. We might have been able to marry tomorrow morning.”
Eyebrows flew skyward as all eyes turned to give John the attention
he was craving.

“Jean
Sébastien, is that true?”

“I apologised
to the man Mamma.”

“Oh Jean…I
thought you were trying to be good?”

“I am being
good!”

“He’s being
horrid.”

“She’s sulking
because I can’t stand ugly women. Though I don’t see why that
should bother her. It’s not like anyone with eyes would find her
unpleasing.”

All eyes
turned to watch Joan jump out of her chair, “What if I get small
pox or a wasting disease and lose my looks? Are you going to cut me
from your life? Will you stop loving me when my face wrinkles?”

“You’re
becoming hysterical. You need to eat some supper and go to
bed.”

“Will you stop
loving me if I become ugly Mr Smirke?”

“Your
hysterics are no doubt entertaining my family, but I’m not
amused.”

“Coward!”
Peter jumped forward to protect the girl as John paled with
fury.

“Go to your
room Miss Lark and stay there until my temper cools or else.”

“Or what,
you’ll beat me? That would make you a liar as well as a coward and
a fiend. You said you’d never hurt me. I thought you were a man of
your word?” John clenched his fists and visibly trembled, his black
eyes marbled with rage and embarrassment, “I don’t like ugly
people. I never have. They make me feel uncomfortable. Yes, if you
become hideous I’ll avoid you until after dark unless you wear a
mask, but I wouldn’t lock you away or divorce you. I’m not a
monster.”

“You’d still
love me?”

Joan’s hopeful
tone offered an olive branch, but John’s pride was too bruised to
accept it. “Have no fear Miss Lark; you can not lose that which you
do not possess.”

“I see…forgive
me my Lady, but I need to retire. There’s an ugly man in the room
making me feel uncomfortable. Peter, would you help me to my
room?”

John’s lips
were two white lines as he watched Joan limp from the room
supported by his tall beautiful brother. Turning back to his family
he found himself the object of unanimous censor. Even James was
visibly appalled. “What are you all staring at? Do you want me to
lie? Do you want me to pretend I’d enjoy having an ugly wife?”

“You’d make
your wife wear a mask? Are you mad?” Cecil’s outburst earned him a
shrivelling look.

“Jean
Sébastien…” His mother’s exasperated pity was an uncomfortable
comfort. “…say not one more stupid word to that poor girl tonight.
I pray she forgives you by morning.”

George Smirke
shook his head in disgust, “I suggest you affect a Scottish accent
and call yourself Lord Idiot Argyll. Joan might not realise you’re
you are until the hammer strikes the anvil.”

“At least we
know who to consult when we find ourselves engaged to the wrong
girl. Uncle John’s sure to know how to inspire a jilting.” Robert
Smirke punched his big brother to emphasise his point.

Cosmo folded
his arms and revelled in a vision of being worshiped by a beautiful
woman. “If Joan looked at me the way she looks at Uncle John, I’d
prostrate myself at her feet and beg her forgiveness in between
well timed sobs and an emphatic declaration that I had to be
possessed by the devil to have said something so stupid. It’s not
faire. I’d be a good husband. Why does Joan love Uncle John when
she could have me? I’m far better looking and I’m free of venereal
diseases.”

“Because the
woman doesn’t want a boy of sixteen; thank you all for your kind
words and heartfelt concern, but I don’t need a lecture on how to
manage my wilful dependant.” He turned on his heel and limped from
the room. His intention to go to James’s study and slam the door
was forgotten in view of the staircase. He put his hand on the
banister and clenched the polished wood as he stared upwards. How
dare she embarrass him? How dare she make him feel like a monster?
He put one foot on the stairs and then another. Her bedchamber door
was open; his brother was putting more coal on the fire as one maid
fussed with the bed and another removed Joan’s footwear. It was a
cosy scene of marital bliss. The thought of Joan married to his
brother stabbed him in the chest. The blade struck again as his
brother touched Joan on the sleeve to inquire if she needed
anything for the night. John couldn’t hear her reply as his ears
roared with an awful emptiness. Peter turned and hardened his jaw
on seeing John standing just inside the room, his hands in his
pockets. A few strides and Peter was blocking John’s view of Joan,
“I think you’ve said quite enough for one evening d-don’t you?”

John noted
Joan’s sharp intake of breath, “I wish to speak with my ward in
private.” Looking up at his elder brother’s unhappy black eyes he
felt fifteen again and receiving his weekly admonition to try much
harder to be a good man. “I’m not going to hurt her.”

“Make the ugly
man go away Peter, I don’t wish to speak to him.”

“You’ll speak
to me and you’ll be polite.”

“Joan’s had a
long d-day. She needs to rest.”

“I’m her
guardian; I’ll decide what she needs.”

“John, it
would b-be prudent to wait t-till morning. Misunderstandings are
rarely unravelled by the light of blazing anger.”

“Do you think
so? Well I don’t. Out! And take the maids with you.” Peter sighed
loudly and then motioned the maids to follow him. John relaxed as
the door closed on the world and filled his lungs with air.
Marching over to her chair near the fire he pulled his hands out of
his pockets and put them on his hips, “I will not tolerate being
referred to as ‘the ugly man’. It’s rude and blatantly untrue.”

“You’re
hideous on the inside…that’s worse than being ugly on the
outside.”

“Stand
up!”

“Why, so you
can beat me without having to bend over?”

“I’m not going
to beat you woman, but if you keep mentioning it you may convince
me you secretly wish to feel my hand on your backside. Stand up, or
I’ll get a crick in my neck talking down at you. I have enough
aching parts for two men.”

“Good! I have
a crick in my heart.”

John rolled
his eyes and tried again, “Stand up and I’ll rub your sore
hips.”

“No, I’d be
tempted to forgive you and end up back into your fiendish
clutches.”