The Hired Wife (11 page)

Lord Morley
eyed his young rival with contempt, “What do you want Boy?”

Robert squared
his young shoulders and returned the insult with bored glance and a
silent dismissal, “Lady Alyce, may I worship at the altar of your
loveliness and kiss your hand?”

Alyce snorted
in amusement as she languidly presented her fingers for homage,
“You’re a beautiful boy Mr Smirke, but what would I want with a
boy?”

“Unlike an
aging rakehell, my lips are undefiled and worthy to kiss you.”

Alyce’s eyes
lit up with wicked amusement, “Did you just call the Marquis of
Morley an aging rakehell to his face? You certainly appear to have
upset Lord Morley. He’s looking rather pale and deadly. Boys
shouldn’t play with fire.”

“Not unless the
boy hopes to join a circus my Lady. As I have no money and no
prospects, I may need to become a fire eater.”

Morley’s deep
hatred for Smirkes plunged to a new level, “If you’d like to
entertain the lady Mr Smirke, perhaps you’d give her a
demonstration of your circus skills before we go into dinner; a
little juggling, a few hand stands, hanging yourself from the
chandelier?”

Robert’s black
eyes flickered in Henry’s direction, “Circus tricks in a drawing
room? How uncouth! As Morley won’t be available, would you allow me
the honour of escorting you into dinner?”

“How dare you
speak for me you pimple?”

“Forgive me; I
assumed as a kind thoughtful son you’d spare Lady Morley the
indignity of being led into dinner by a Smirke. I don’t think she
likes us. She must have been snubbed by Uncle John, he can’t stand
ugly people.”

Morley snarled
in fury as his mother appeared at his side, “Henry, what is that
odious Smirke saying?”

“He’s
threatening to escort you into dinner.”

“Touch a
Smirke? I’d rather die; do be a dear Henry and lend me your arm.
Buckingham, are you going to sit there mooning at Emily all
evening? I wish to eat.”

The company
sighed with relief as the long awaited exodus into the dining room
began. Stunned at the loss of his last five pounds, George Smirke
offered his arm to Aunt Beatrice, but the old woman snubbed his
polite offer and sailed away with her head held high. “What is
wrong with these people? Why do they hate us so much? You’d think
we were all doppelgangers of Uncle John.”

Cecil Smirke
shrugged his shoulders, “Perhaps Aunt Beatrice was in love with
Grandfather Smirke. Papa once told me that Grandfather jilted Lady
Morley to marry Nana. I’m glad he did. Can you imagine having that
old viper as a grandmother? Her veins must ooze with poison.”

George sighed
with relief, “Can you imagine having Morley as a father? There’s
something about him I find disturbing. I don’t like the way he
looks at Robert, it’s as if…I don’t know it makes me
uncomfortable.”

“It’s probably
his sickly cologne.”

“Probably…and
now I’ve lost my last five pounds to Robert and it’ll end up in
Cosmo’s pocket. I’ll wager you a pound of Christmas money I reach
the table first.” The two pushed and shoved past their younger
brothers as they raced to the table.

Mary slipped
into her seat and glanced at Marshall taking the seat beside her.
He looked tense and frustrated as he glanced around the table at
several groups chatting as their bowls were filled with cold soup.
Everyone’s bowl filled, Mary picked up her spoon, but was forced to
pause as Marshall leaned over and hissed, “What is Henry
saying?”

“He’s asking
his mother if she’s met Bucky’s sisters. She hasn’t and she wants
to know why Buckingham’s sisters haven’t joined them for dinner.
Bucky says when he told them he’d brought some handsome young men
for them to meet they all started trembling and refused to come out
of their rooms. They agreed to meet Emily; she says they were all
really beautiful. Bucky says they look like his mother while he
looks like a great grandfather. The Smirkes are relaying their
disappointment. Will they get to meet Bucky’s sisters at all? Bucky
doesn’t know. He despairs of finding them husbands because they’re
so timid. They won’t even go out into the grounds if the handsome
Gardner is working on the beds. Morley wants to know if you’ll
shoot some birds with him tomorrow.”

Marshall sent
his friend a disgusted look down the table, “Why do some people
arrive in the country and immediately start killing things? It’s
senseless!”

“Morley says
you’re a tiresome moralist. He enjoys killing things, especially if
he gets to eat them afterwards.”

“Well Henry,
you’re a tiresome rakehell. If you had a few morals you might find
that elusive state of happiness.”

“He wants to
know which immoral activities he may participate in and still be
allowed into your version of heaven. Lady Morley is insisting her
son is perfect the way he is. Cecil Smirke poses the question that
if Lord Morley is perfect the way he is, then why does she hate his
uncle John Smirke, because there can’t be much difference between
them. She says she’s never been so insulted. Her son is nothing
like John Smirke who will rot in the deepest pit of hell…etc. Cecil
disagrees; he says his uncle is reformed, that he’ll do anything to
get to heaven even if he dies of boredom. Lady Morley says if John
Smirke dares try to sneak through Heaven’s gate she’ll defend the
portal herself. Cosmo Smirke is wagering his brother a pound that
Lady Morley won’t get into heaven while Robert Smirke wants to know
if people think there will be cheese in heaven. Lady Morley wants
to know how Bucky could be so careless of his sisters reputations
as to invite Smirkes into the house, but Bucky’s become deaf to
anyone but Emily… George Smirke wants to know why Lady Morley hates
all Smirkes, but she’s changed the subject to the lake.”

Mary took a
deep breath and leaned back toward her bowl, but was horrified to
find it had been removed and replaced with an empty plate for the
next course. An eternity later she was smiling at two thick pieces
of ham and several boiled potatoes. Picking up her knife and fork
she got as far as carving off a small piece of ham and putting it
to her mouth before Marshall was demanding to hear what people were
saying. She managed two more bites of ham before her plate was
taken away for the next course as her hungry stomach rumbled in
despair. She continued to relay the various conversations in
between the rare mouthful until dinner finished and reluctantly
stood to withdraw with the ladies. Buckingham invited his male
guests to remain at table if they wished to drink his port, but he
was honour bound to accompany Emily.

Marshall stood
as well feeling happy that he’d been able to properly participate
for the first time in years in a dinner party conversation. His
stomach filled, all he could think of was shutting a door on the
world and kissing his wife. The busy morning schedule hadn’t
allowed time for more than a brief peck on the cheek. He needed to
hold his wife in private. His offered arm was quickly accepted and
his quick pace matched as he hurried her away from the company.

Half way up the
stairs Mary felt the world start to spin. She was only half
conscious of being caught by strong warm arms and pulled tightly up
against Marshall’s chest before his bellowing roar for help rumbled
her cheek, “Merry? Can you hear me? Are you ill? Why didn’t you say
you were ill? Someone help me.”

“I’m
hungry…”

“What? I can’t
hear you.”

“Hungry…”

“Well why
didn’t you eat your dinner? Are you trying to give me a heart
failure? You nearly fell down the stairs…finally a servant…bring us
tea and some toast…”

“With
butter…”

“Toast with
butter and some cake and…”

“Some ham…”

“My wife needs
some food…hurry man!” Marshall heaved Mary into his arms and
carried her to his bedchamber door. Seeing a young woman hovering
in the shadows he shouted for help, “Come open this blasted door,
my wife is unwell.” Marshall couldn’t hear the rustle of silk as
the timid young lady reluctantly complied. Pushing the door open
she watched from the doorway as the large plain man gently sat his
wife in a chair, kneeled next to her and started rubbing her hands.
Comfortable with being forgotten she was amazed that such a
frightening roar could become a soft gentle purr. “I’m very
disappointed in you Merry. Who would I kiss if you fell down the
stairs and broke your neck?” The large fingers tenderly caressed
the smiling woman’s throat. “You should have ignored me and eaten
your dinner. I’m not a brute. Where is that blasted servant with
your tea?” The eyes of the young lady at the door widened. It would
take at least thirty minutes to prepare a tea tray and carry it
from the kitchens. She turned and ran back to her room to get her
own unfinished dinner.

“Yes my
Lord.”

“Saucy wife,
just do as you’re told.”

“I do, even
when I’m hungry…”

“Well next time
tell me to mind my plate and eat your dinner unless you want people
to think I pushed you down the stairs. At last, put the tray down
over here and close the door behind you.” The trembling young lady
set down the tray and escaped back to her sisters to relate her
adventure. Marshall poured his wife a cup of tea and held it to her
lips, “When was the last time you ate?”

“This
morning…”

“Why didn’t you
eat lunch?”

“I was…I
needed…I…everyone was getting back into their coaches by the time I
finished.”

“Well what did
you need so badly that you couldn’t find time to eat?”

Mary flushed
bright red and looked away from demanding sapphires, “I’ve never
travelled in a carriage. I was sick again.”

Marshall bent
over and offered his ear, “Again? How many times have you been
sick?”

“Every time we
stopped since leaving London.”

Marshall’s face
burned red, “You’ve been two days without food? Why didn’t you tell
me? I’d have insisted we stop twenty-four hours.”

“I didn’t want
to be a burden.”

“You’re my
wife, not a burden. I don’t want to be a widower before I’ve become
a husband. I order you to tell me when you’re ill or else…is there
anything I can do?”

“Would it be
too much trouble…would you…?”

“Spit it out
woman I can’t read your mind.” The harsh words were softened by
gentle fingers lifting her hand, “Would you like me to kiss you?”
His lips pressed against her wrist. “Would you like a particular
dish?”

“Would you hold
me?”

Marshall’s
lungs burned as his heart was ingulphed in a storm of feelings that
momentarily froze his limbs. The woman he desired wanted him to
hold her? Could she be falling in love with him? His spine tingled
as his veins flooded with pleasure. “Don’t feel you have to…”
Marshall jumped to his feet and plucked her out of the chair cup
and all, and took the seat himself, gently lowering her onto his
knees with a smile. “Is this to your liking Wife?”

“Yes, thank you
Husband.” Marshall forgot to breathe as Mary’s forehead came to
rest against his neck with a long sigh of relief.

“Eat this…” He
tapped her hand with the piece of toast and watched in contentment
as she ruined his favourite waistcoat with butter soaked crumbs and
drops of tea. “You make my heart merry.”

Mary tilted her
head like a daisy towards the sun, “Do I really?”

“It’s dancing
in my chest. Thankfully there’s nothing for it to trip over. I fear
it’s imbibed a little too much hope.”

“Can there be
such a thing as too much hope?”

“I hope not!”
Marshall relaxed into deeper contentment as the woman in his arms
shook with silent laughter and gazed at him with a look that made
his cravat tighten. He tipped back the willing chin and lightly
brushed the crumbs off her lips. “After three merry weeks I can’t
remember life without you. What have you done to me?”

“I haven’t done
anything…”

“Oh yes you
have.” Marshall set aside her cup as Mary dropped her toast and
took hold of his face as she eagerly accepted his kiss. Twenty
minutes later a tapping on the door slowly penetrated Mary’s foggy
brain and jarred her pleasure filled senses. She’d never felt
anything so natural as her arms wrapped tightly around her
husband’s neck as she stared nose to nose into burning
sapphires.

“There’s
someone at the door.”

“They can go to
blazes. Where were we?”

“They say they
have the tray you ordered.”

“Blasted
servants…how many trays do we need? Bring it in and then go
away.”

Mary’s smile
evaporated as Henry Fitzalan sauntered in behind the maid and
followed her to the chair where he leaned over the seated couple,
“I heard you shouting for help. I see by nature’s rouge your wife
has recovered. Is there anything I can do to help her ladyship; a
foot rub, the kiss of life?”

“Stop leering
at my wife and go away.”

“You’d be more
upset if I didn’t leer at your good lady. You might start to wonder
if you were the only one to think her desirable. A man needs to
have other men admire his wife or he’ll feel he made a bad
choice.”

“I don’t care
what you think; go away so I can kiss my wife.”

“Judging by her
swollen lips, she’s already been heartily kissed. There’s no need
to cringe my dear, I’m perfectly harmless. I’d never hurt you…would
I Marshall?”

“No, because
I’d kill you; we wish to be alone.”

“Allow me to
first admire your wife.” Morley’s leer hovered inches from Mary’s
face partially hidden in her husband’s shoulder. “Such charm, such
beauty makes me tremble with envy.”

Morley’s
sarcastic tone made Marshall snarl with rage. “Go to the devil
Henry and take your vile tongue with you!”

“How can
compliments make a tongue vile? My Lady, do you see anything vile
in my tongue?” The sneering man slowly protruded his tongue and
leaned closer to Mary’s face making her draw back in disgust as he
waved in towards her lips.