The Hired Wife (14 page)

“Morley thinks
me amusing; we had a wonderful drive and an evening picnic on the
ancient altar. The old women thought the evening so magical they
cried half way through the entrée. I’m feeling rather…” Alyce
artistically covered an exaggerated yawn with her hand. “Good night
Marshall I shall sleep in late tomorrow. Don’t expect me at
breakfast. Good night Mary.”

“Good night
Alyce.”

“Good
riddance!” Marshall stuck his tongue at the back of his sister and
relocked the door. “She becomes more impertinent by the day.”
Before he could return to the settee Mary stood holding her lace
pillow. “Where are you going?”

“I should
retire, it’s getting late.”

“Must you?”

“I’m
tired.”

Marshall
ensnared her waist with an arm, “Shall we go for a walk tomorrow
morning and see if we can find the lady of the lake? When we’re out
of sight of the house may I kiss you behind your parasol? You don’t
hate me for thinking you were chasing a Smirke child, do you? I
haven’t ruined all hope of winning your heart have I?”

“No.”

“I’ll come for
you at eight. We’ll walk down by the lake.”

“Will we miss
breakfast?”

“I wouldn’t
dare deprive you of food. You might faint on the way up the hill
and fall before I could catch you. Merry…” Mary smiled as he pulled
her close enough to smell her cheek. “Merry Heart, we’ve been
married at least three weeks, can’t you give me a hint at what
you’ll be feeling for me after three months?”

“I wouldn’t
trust myself to say.”

Marshall’s
shoulders slumped. “If you know sooner…”

“Please don’t
scowl Marshall. I don’t know what I feel; I don’t want to hurt
you.”

“The only thing
that will hurt is if you leave me. I grow more attached to my wife
by the hour. I could be a brute and deny you an annulment…I could
lie and insist we’ve had carnal knowledge.”

“That wouldn’t
make you happy.”

“I certainly
won’t be happy if you choose to scrub someone’s floor rather than
warm my bed. Ah, you’re blushing; is the thought of having my ugly
brats tempting you?”

“You’re
incorrigible.”

“I give you
permission to go to bed and dream of me.” Marshall reluctantly
withdrew his arm from her waist and pretended to turn his attention
to taking off his clothes. Out of the corner of his eye he could
see her hesitating at his shoulder. Was she hoping for a kiss? He
suddenly longed to hear her ask for a kiss. It would at least be an
admission that she enjoyed his nearness. It would be something.

“Pleasant
dreams Marshall…” Marshall pretended he didn’t hear as he fumbled
with the knot in his cravat. He waited several minutes before
looking at the door connecting their rooms. It was closed. He sank
onto the nearest chair and tried to will the fear of failure from
his heart. He didn’t dare tell her he loved her. Why would she
believe him when he barely believed it himself? She’d probably
think his sincere declaration was a lie, an attempt to persuade her
to stay. His heart begged for acknowledgement, but his head once
again took control. He didn’t want her to stay out of pity. Henry’s
theory was beginning to sound more tempting by the hour. Marshall’s
heart would need to know if she loved him not his table, but why
would she return to his gilded cage if he set her free? If he gave
her a house and an annuity she might decide to sell the house and
move away where he couldn’t visit her every day. Did he set her
free and gamble everything or keep her caged and hope for the best?
In either case, he only had about two months ‘till judgement day.
The weeks were passing and he was still trying think of some way to
win her heart. Accusing her of chasing Smirkes was hardly going to
win her heart.

As he crawled
into bed, Henry’s cruel monologue replayed in his brain. What if
Henry was a monster? What if Merry was right? What if Henry had
intended to force himself on her? Marshall’s blood boiled as
endless unpleasant possibilities lulled Marshall into
nightmares.

Mary woke
feeling tired, her red puffy eyes publicising the night’s
unpleasant dreams, but she was ready for her morning walk when the
connecting door to Marshall’s room vibrated with his pounding
knock, “Merry? Are you decent?” Thirty seconds later Marshall stuck
his head into the room. “Ah, the perfect woman is ready in her
cloak and bonnet just as I’d hoped.”

Mary tore her
eyes away from the dazzling scene outside the window and smiled as
her husband closed the distance in five strides. “Good morning
Marshall, did you sleep well?”

“As well as a
man can when his wife makes him sleep alone…ah she blushes. I feel
hope breathing down my neck.”

“I heard you
disagreeing with Buckingham’s valet earlier.”

“The mincing
fop took it upon himself to assist me. He disagreed with my choice
of colours so I gave him the boot.” Marshall took hold of Mary’s
face and turned it into the light, “Your eyes are red.” It was a
command for more information.

“I sometimes
wake up crying from a bad dream…it’s nothing.”

“What did you
dream about?” Mary’s lips remained firmly pinched in defiant
silence.

“It’s one of
your merry rules; you must answer direct questions with the
absolute truth.”

“Only if I
choose to answer the…”

“Answer the
question, that’s an order.”

Mary sighed as
she slowly met the insistent sapphire gaze, “It was just a stupid
dream that went on and on.”

“And in the
dream?”

“You decided I
wasn’t a suitable wife. One hundred beautiful ladies with
impeccable breeding applied to be your wife and you made me choose
one for you. I wanted to stay as your chamber maid, but you said it
would upset your wife.”

Marshall’s
angry eyes crinkled into amused laughter as he wrapped his arms
around Mary’s shoulders and kissed her forehead, “Who could replace
perfection? Perhaps this evening you won’t be so stingy with your
kisses.”

“I can’t be
perfect and stingy. Am I supposed to beg for kisses?”

“If you wish to
be impudent, in future you’ll ask for kisses or go without.”

“Is that why I
didn’t get a kiss before bed?”

“I don’t have
to answer impertinent questions.”

“So unless I
ask for regular kisses you’ll suffer an agony of deprivation? How
will you survive?” Marshall growled as he pulled his laughing wife
close. “May I have a kiss my Lord?”

“Your impudence
will be thoroughly punished before breakfast down by the lake.”
Marshall reluctantly released his hold. “Bring your umbrella; it’s
larger than your parasol. We can huddle underneath it as we admire
the scenery.”

“I think I do
see rain clouds looming behind that wall of bright blue sky.”

“That’s one of
the reasons I…” Marshall bit his lip as he searched for an
alternative word to love. “…I think you’re perfect.” He pulled her
hand to his lips before tucking it under his arm. “You’re the most
perfect perfection ever perfected.”

“If you say so,
though I question your judgement of perfection.”

“Mind your
impudence doesn’t cost you ten kisses.”

“Do you mean to
punish by addition or subtraction my Lord?”

“Stop laughing
at me or you’ll wait till after lunch for your kisses. A man
doesn’t want to feel verbally bested before eleven, it ruins his
digestion.”

…

The breakfast
parlour’s aging pink silk shimmered white as morning light poured
into the room past the two old women and dazzled the walls. Blind
to the fading charms of the room, the Dowager Lady Morley sipped
her morning chocolate and bestowed a rusty smile upon her breakfast
companion, “The Gods are smiling on us Beatrice. How could they not
shower us with sunlight on the first day…” Lady Morley looked about
to make sure the footman near the door couldn’t hear. “…I don’t
know why Morley insists we be so secretive. Your nephew should feel
honoured; Morley is quite a catch.”

“What do you
expect from a man who married a starving nobody? He could have
snapped his fingers and married his cousin Carolyn twenty years
ago. By twenty-one she was so desperate she snuck into Old Q’s
London townhouse and locked herself in his bedchamber.
Unfortunately he was away at Newmarket for the month. The fool
nearly starved to death before the maids found her…she’d thrown all
her clothes out the window.”

Lady Morley
sneered in amusement, “It’s a pity she didn’t die. At least her
mother would have been spared a constant reminder she gave birth to
a fish.”

“I understand
her mother is looking for a suitable convent.”

“I’m quite
pleased with Morley’s choice. My grandchildren will be commendably
attractive. Too much beauty is intolerably vulgar.” Lady Morley
sipped her chocolate as she ignored painful memories of loving a
beautiful man.

“True, take for
example those horrid Smirkes. They’d be far more agreeable if their
faces were scarred by smallpox or their teeth were black. They
might even be more humble. Have you ever met such conceited
insolent coxcombs?”

“Yes…their
grandfather, John Smirke, surpassed them I assure you. I was the
most beautiful debutante that season. I could have snapped my
fingers and had any eligible man. I mistakenly thought the Viscount
Adderbury a fit groom though mother never liked him. I was worth a
larger fortune and superior title, but he was beautiful and he said
he was in love with me. A few weeks before our wedding, he clapped
eyes on that French slut, Jemima Gontaut, and changed his heart
like a pair of soiled unmentionables. The cretin had the nerve to
appear hat in hand to inform me that he couldn’t marry me because
another woman had since won his heart. Have you ever heard of
anything so…conceited, so stupid, so rude? And to think I was a
fool who believed him a gentleman. When I asked him what I was to
do with twenty iced wedding cakes he actually offered to buy
them…for his marriage to her.”

“No?”

“They married
the evening I was jilted.”

“No? What did
you do with all that wedding cake?”

“I kindly sent
several to him as a wedding gift…it’s a pity they didn’t eat any of
it.”

“I’d have
poisoned the almond paste with inheritance powder.”

“Hmmm…I’m glad
he jilted me. Morley was a far superior match. Why would anyone
want to be a Viscountess when one could be a Marchioness? And
imagine the embarrassment of spending one’s life being known as a
Smirke.”

“Ugh! You were
well rid of him. Speak of the devils…” The five young Smirkes
tumbled into the room and raced to the table where they fought over
the remaining four chairs. Charles Smirke, almost a living
reproduction of his grandfather John Smirke, was left standing. His
shy smile at the two old women earned him disdain from one wrinkled
face and cold contempt laced with hatred from the other.

Lady Morley
eyed the five young men with pursed lips, “Spare us your obnoxious
company and pray break your fast in the dining room where there is
adequate seating for all the Smirkes in England.”

Cecil passed a
piece of toast to Charles and smiled at the sneering old women,
“George says it’s haunted. Robert…you don’t need an inch of
butter on your toast. The ladies will think you’re planning to
visit the North Pole. I love this old fashioned pink silk with the
gold swirls, it reminds me of Nana. Cosmo…leave some eggs for the
ladies.”

“Why should I?
The footman will bring more food. Besides, old people need less
food. They haven’t as long to live.” Cosmo chuckled at his own
demented humour and reached for another piece of toast.

Lady Morley set
down her cup with an angry clink, “I insist you eat in the dining
room. I refuse to have my delicate morning constitution upset by
uncouth Smirkes.”

George Smirke
slammed down his butter knife, “We’ve done nothing to deserve your
bile and unlike you we’re here by direct invitation of Bucky who
asked us to make ourselves at home. We wish to eat in here and that
should be the end of it. As our Papa says, “If one does not find
one’s dinner companions agreeable, then one either leaves the table
or endeavours to be polite.”

“Your Papa is a
stammering fool. A fact he illustrated by marrying a creature paid
to empty his chamber pot.” Stunned by the direct insults to their
parents; five pairs of black eyes burned with outrage. “As only
half-aristocrats, you only half deserve my respect. Being half
deserving equates with deserving nothing. You are social
abominations, no better than encroaching cits.” Lady Morley smiled
well pleased with her poisonous tirade, “I hope the truth isn’t too
painful.”

“Truth?” Cecil
Smirke’s black eyes glimmered. “You wouldn’t know truth if it
jabbed you in the backside. We miss our Mamma. I doubt anyone will
miss you when you’ve been dropped into the family crypt. I
certainly won’t miss you. Robert, pass me the butter.” The old
women rose majestically from their chairs and abandoned the room
with regal indignation. “I hope Papa doesn’t marry someone like
Lady Morley; she’d be an evil stepmother. I know Aunt Agnes meant
well by having him invited to that house party, but I think Papa
should have declined the honour. If Aunt Agatha tried to marry me
to one of her friends I’d emigrate. I understand the lady in
question has to shave her chest. I tried to tell Papa, but he stuck
his fingers in his ears. I’d want to know if my bride had to shave
her bosoms, though I can’t imagine Papa looking at bosoms. Why
would he? He’s forty-three.”

Cosmo wiped his
mouth on his sleeve, “I’ll never stop looking at bosoms.”

“That’s because
you’ll never be allowed to do anything but look.”

“Shut up
Robert! I have more money than you; my wife will be far better
looking than your wife.”