The Harlot Bride (2 page)

Lord Tazewell interrupted with a snort.

“And, well, naturally, it hasn’t,” Mrs. Graham continued, even more nervously. “It’s been seven months now, and we’ve been shunned right along with her. I suppose that has sobered her somewhat, but even so she’s not as humbled as a girl in her situation ought to be.”

“She will learn humility at my hand,” Lord Tazewell stated flatly. Then he stood, making ready to depart.

Mr. and Mrs. Graham looked up in surprise. “Don’t you wish to speak to Lucy, my lord?” Mrs. Graham inquired.

“No. I am sure you and your husband will help her see she has little choice but to accept my offer. I shall send my solicitor to see you tomorrow, and I will send for Lucy in a fortnight. I have some preparations to make before she arrives in my household. I thank you for the tea. Good day, Mr. and Mrs. Graham.”

The old couple stood, bewildered, as Lord Tazewell took his leave.

** ** **

It was the solicitor, the next day, who informed Mr. and Mrs. Graham of his Lordship’s condition. The necessary papers had been prepared, and a sizeable cheque was sitting discretely within an envelope on the table.

“There is just one more matter,” said Mr. Bailey of Bailey, Fulford and Johnston. “His Lordship’s personal physician will call here tomorrow at ten o’clock to examine your niece. She should be bathed and dressed in clothing that will facilitate rather than hamper the procedure.”

“I mean,” Mr. Bailey said, “that His Lordship will not accept your niece as his wife unless she is confirmed by his own physician to be
virgo intacto
.” He noted the effect his words had on the old couple.

“Mr. Graham? Mrs. Graham? What is it? Do you doubt your niece’s virginity?”

They did, in fact. Lord only knows what happened on that night she tramped all over London. Or in India, before she came to them. They hadn’t dared to pose any questions but both had secretly watched the girl’s waistline for several months after the disastrous night she had run off, before each concluded, separately and with great relief, that there would be no child.

“It’s…it’s more that we doubt that Lucy would ever submit to such a thing,” Mrs. Graham said tremulously.

“Then you must convince her,” the solicitor said, gathering his papers as he made to rise. “She has very little choice, don’t you think?”

They did think.

** ** **

That evening, passersby on Pickford Street were startled by the sound of breaking china emitting from an upstairs window at Number 17, the modest brick townhouse two doors from the corner with Ash Place. They heard raised voices as well. But things quieted down eventually, as poor exhausted Mr. Graham sank into his armchair for a much–deserved whiskey. The maid was sent to sweep up the shards as Miss Lucy Farquhar lay sobbing on her bed.

She may have been young, and headstrong, but Lucy was not stupid, and she had, at long last, and through considerable persuasion on the part of her great uncle and aunt and notwithstanding some flinging of childhood figurines, been made to admit that her circumstances were indeed dire, and that she truly had no choice but to go to Lord Tazewell, and on his terms. She had been made to accept, although it had taken a great deal of convincing, that she also had no choice but to submit to his prenuptial demand, however humiliating it might be.

Still, it was a bitter pill to swallow. Lucy had expected better of life – glamour, adventure and romance! And now she found herself in the deepest of disgrace, shunned by all of society, and about to be married off to a man she hadn’t even laid eyes upon. There would be no wedding, no splendid dress; instead, she was to be whisked away from the gossips of London and closed up in a dusty old estate in the damp English countryside. More than anything, Lucy longed to return to India, but that too, they had convinced her, was simply out of the question for a young woman with no family, no means and no prospects of ever finding a husband.

As for Lord Tazewell, Lucy Farquhar was as baffled by the man’s interest in her as were her aunt and uncle, but unlike them she was not the least impressed that he was an earl. Why, the man hadn’t even had the decency to court her! He had come to her uncle’s house to conclude a business arrangement, buying her as chattel without so much as a by–your–leave milady. Lucy started sobbing again, and promised herself that his Lordliness would not find Lucy Farquhar an easy conquest. She wouldn’t love him. She wouldn’t honor him. And she certainly wouldn’t let him put his old, gnarled paws upon her person!

** ** **

Lawrence. P. Randolph, physician, arrived at the Graham residence promptly at ten o’clock the following morning. The lady of the house herself, the elderly aunt, opened the door to him the very moment he rapped upon it with his cane. The woman was nervous and obsequious as she showed him in, a state he considered quite fitting given the nature of his visit. He noted that the girl was nowhere to be seen, and smiled thinly. She was no doubt waiting upstairs in a state of agitation, which also was well and good and precisely as it should be. He would have considered it quite immodest of her had she been sitting calmly in the parlour.

He accepted Mrs. Graham’s offer of a cup of tea, not because he had any desire for refreshment or passing pleasantries with people who bored him, but because it pleased him to make the young lady upstairs wait. He knew his voice was deep and carried well. Even if she hadn’t heard his rap on the door, and he was quite certain she had been listening just as intently as her aunt, she would hear his voice from the parlour. And as the minutes passed, she would grow ever more frantic about her impending ordeal. He smiled to himself to think of it. It was no accident that Doctor Randolph was the personal physician to the Earl of Chiltenham. If ever there were two gentlemen cut from the same cloth, it was Lord Tazewell and his friend the good doctor.

After twenty or thirty minutes, Doctor Randolph set down his teacup.

“Well. Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Graham. I expect it’s time I moved on to the matter at hand. Will you be so kind as you conduct me your niece?”

Lucy’s aunt, who had been nearly beside herself with anxiety while the doctor took his own good time over tea, rose as quickly as her old knees allowed.

“She’s upstairs, Doctor. In her room. If you’ll just follow me, please, sir. I’m afraid I’m a bit slow on the stairs. Oh, how my knees torment me! It’s a wonder I get out of bed every morning.”

She continued to fuss as she led him up a flight of stairs, and when she at last reached the top, short of breath, she stopped at a closed door and knocked tentatively.

Doctor Randolph gently moved the old woman’s hand aside. “I think it’s best if I take things over from here, Mrs. Graham. Although you are of course welcome to remain with your niece if you…”

“Oh, no! I couldn’t. No, I’m sure she’ll be all right with you, sir. I expect my presence would only make matters more trying…”

“Very well. In that case, please return to the parlour,” he said, in the sort of voice one used to calm an agitated mare, his hand upon the doorknob to Lucy’s room. “I shan’t be long. His Lordship specified that a complete examination would not be necessary.”

Poor Mrs. Graham went quite red in the face, as the doctor’s words only emphasized what part of her niece the doctor had been sent examine.

“A..ah…yes.. well, yes…I’ll wait downstairs then, sir,” she stammered as she turned away from the door and fled, as fast as her poor old knees allowed, back towards the top of the stairs.

Doctor Randolph turned the knob and opened the door into a small and pleasant bedchamber, quite bright and clean. He glanced around appraisingly and established that the morning light coming in through the paned window was sufficient for a proper examination and that it would therefore not be necessary to call for a lamp, although adding that bit of embarrassment might have amused him. That matter settled in his mind, he looked about for the girl, and it took a surprisingly long moment for him to find her, a trim figure standing very still at the side of the window. She was wearing a dark blue frock of almost the same color as the curtains, which was, he understood, the reason he hadn’t spotted her immediately.

“Good day, Miss Farquhar. I am Doctor Randolph,” he offered by way of introduction, setting his black medical bag on the end of the neatly made bed while he looked her over more closely. He thought to himself that he would have enjoyed today’s errand under most any circumstances, but he certainly hadn’t expected that he would be given the pleasure of a proud young beauty to toy with.

“I trust you have been informed of the purpose of my visit this morning?” Doctor Randolph queried.

The girl did not reply, or even look at him. She stayed at her place by the window, one hand on the curtain, pointedly maintaining her gaze on the carriages passing in the street outside, as if no one had entered the room.

“No answer? Well, never mind. I imagine you are very well aware why I am here, Miss Farquhar, but since you have chosen not to answer my question, I am forced to state the nature of my visit quite explicitly.”

He saw there was a pitcher of water and a clean towel folded on the washstand, so he poured some water into the basin and washed his hands as he spoke to her.

“I am here, Miss Farquhar, at the request of Lord Tazewell, Earl of Chiltenham, to confirm, prior to the conclusion of negotiations for your marriage, that your maidenhead is intact.”

Doctor Randolph did not bother to look at her. He knew full well the effect his words would have on her.

“For this purpose, Miss Farquhar, I will require your cooperation in removing your clothing and positioning yourself such that I may conduct a proper examination.”

Doctor Randolph took up the towel and dried his hands. He looked at Lucy even if she would not look at him, and considered whether he would do her the favor of adding some pat phrase about regretting the distress and embarrassment such an intimate inspection would undoubtedly cause her. But since he didn’t regret it –– in fact he would take a great deal of pleasure in precisely that distress and embarrassment—he decided to say no more on the subject.

“We will begin, Miss Farquhar.”

Chapter 2

Doctor Randolph moved around the bed so he could view Miss Farquhar’s entire figure and ascertain what manner of clothing she was wearing, his eyes sweeping quickly and professionally from her collar to the tip of her toes. Her skirts were slightly longer than the current fashion, as if she had chosen her dress this morning in the hopes of concealing as much as possible. Even so, from below the hems of her skirts, he could see trim ankles encased in tightly laced boots, a sight that always stirred him.

“You may leave your boots and stockings on,” he said, having decided at once that the soft black leather and delicate lacing of those boots would provide a most erotic contrast to her bare thighs once he had her on her back with her knees drawn up and open.

“And the dress. That too you may leave on. But everything underneath, and I do mean everything, Miss Farquhar, must be removed.”

At last, a reaction.

Lucy turned abruptly from the window, a look of defiance mixed with unconscious entreaty upon her face. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it as a deep color rose from her neck. No doubt she was intelligent enough to realize that no manner of magician, let alone physician, could make a fair inspection of the part in question with all her under things in place.

“Good. It would have been more difficult to position you had you been wearing a corset, and I probably would have required you to remove it, which would, of course, have necessitated a complete disrobing.”

He paused for a moment, allowing her to contemplate that alternative while giving it a few lingering thoughts himself.

“I appreciate that you have become a tad more responsive, Miss Farquhar. A nod is better than no response at all but I trust you understand that we will finish more quickly if you are cooperative.”

“Your entire presence is an affront, sir! I am as disgusted with a physician who would cooperate in such a barbaric and outdated custom as I am with a man who would demand it!”

Doctor Randolph chuckled, causing the young woman’s eyes to flash with anger, but she did not add to her outburst.

“I disgust you, do I? Be that as it may, Miss Farquhar, we will proceed according to the instructions I have received from my patron. As I understand the situation, which is hardly a secret, you have foolishly maneuvered yourself into a position where you can neither afford to turn down Lord Tazewell’s proposal nor refuse his terms. And as far as outdated customs go, I can assure you that the prenuptial examination has not fallen out of favor. Any sensible man wants to know what it is he is marrying.”