The Hired Wife (18 page)

By the time
they reached the shore both ladies were shivering as the sky lashed
the countryside with a vicious wet whip. Scowling at the long climb
to the top of the hill Alyce turned to Morley, “Will you carry
me?”

Feeling someone
tug on his coat, Marshall turned to see his sister mouthing her
irritation and slapping Morley’s chest. “What?”

“Your sister
wants to be carried up the hill, she says she tired and sore.”

Marshall looked
from his wet sister to his wet wife. “Merry needs me; pull her up
the hill.”

Alyce
collapsing against a boulder and sobbed, “I can’t make it…I’ll
die!” Marshall growled in irritation as he glanced at Mary
clutching her wet hem above her ankles with one hand and held her
hat in place with the other as she began the ascent.

Muttering a
curse into the wind he stomped over to his sister. “Make sure you
find a husband who enjoys lifting large weights in the driving
rain. What are you crying for? You’re getting your way Hussy. Next
time leave your stains for the maid instead of jumping into the
lake.”

Marshall passed
Merry and called out, “Wait here, I’ll come back for you.”

He’d nearly
reached the top when his sister squirmed nearly sending them both
down the wet slippery steps. Peering over his shoulder she screamed
in his ear, “Henry!” Marshall dropped his sister on her feet and
turned to see Mary sprawled face down on the stone steps.

Horrified, he
raced back down the hill. “Merry? Are you hurt?” Her wet face
looked deathly pale against the red stone; she was forcibly trying
to pull free of Morley’s grip. “Let go of my wife!”

Morley shrugged
his shoulders and took several steps back down the hill, “She
tripped and fell. Your silly wife thinks me so wicked she won’t
even let me help her up. What sort of upbringing creates that kind
of mind? It’s a good thing she isn’t going to have your children;
they’d probably grow up to be melancholic hysterics.”

“Shut up Henry!
Perfect woman…” Mary wrapped an arm tightly around his throat as
Marshall heaved her slender frame into his arms and glared at his
old friend, “Stay away from my wife or I’ll pummel you
senseless.”

“A man can’t
even help a damsel in distress…”

…

Morley whistled
a cheerful tune as he followed at Marshall’s heels until Alyce
stepped into his path and waited until Marshall and Mary
disappeared over the top of the hill. “We haven’t been married two
days and you’re trying to fondle my sister-in-law’? She doesn’t
even have any charms to fondle. She’s as flat as a board.”

“She isn’t
without charms I assure you. I’ve squeezed one of them. She won’t
be able to forget me for a few hours.”

“Are you mad?
She doesn’t even like you.”

“I thought you
had a sense of humour. The virtuous Mrs Godfrey thinks I’m a
monster capable of the vilest sins. She amuses me unlike boring
prudes.”

“I’m not a
boring prude. You can fondle anyone you please after you tell
Marshall we’re married. Why do we have to keep it secret? He can’t
annul it. I want to tell Emily. She’ll die of jealousy when I tell
her I plan to order a dozen red dresses as soon as we return to
London.”

“It makes me
feel wicked when I take you, especially when your boring brother is
just out of sight.”

“What’s the
wickedest thing you’ve ever done?”

“If I told you
I’d have to kill you. These wet steps are becoming treacherous. You
wouldn’t want me to tumble down the hill and break my neck, would
you?”

“Not until I
give birth to your heir.” Alyce squeaked in surprise as her husband
grabbed her backside and pushed her forward. She leapt safely to
the next step and ran up to the top and stuck out her tongue at the
leering man before running into the house laughing. Morley’s steps
slowed as he shuddered with pleasure as he relived feeling Mary
convulse with terror.

Mary Godfrey
would be perfect once she had some fat on her bones. Morley’s knees
trembled with longing as he imagined returning home from London to
find Mary locked in his bedchamber, her belly swollen with a
Fitzalan babe. He’d wrestle her down, pull her glorious hair into
knots and lick the fear from her face until his lusty needs
threatened to burst his heart. Moaning with unrelieved need, he
made up his mind to bed his future wife before the week was out. If
Marshall refused to die in a hunting accident or break his neck
falling down the stairs, a dose of poison would solve the problem.
If he could make it look like Alyce had poisoned her brother, she’d
be the one hung for murder. If she was dead she wouldn’t be able to
interfere out of revenge. Morley sighed with pleasure as he
contemplated the future. Mary would soon be done with Lord Beast
and be with child, his child.

“Merry?” The
word slowly sank through the numbness tilting her head away from
the warm safety of his neck. “You need to let go of me so you can
change out of these wet clothes… The maid is waiting, unless you
wish my assistance?” While her brain processed the husky question,
her husband set her on her feet, untied her bonnet and handed it to
the maid.

“I need to
bathe.” She needed to wash away the sensation of wet cruel
fingers.

“You’re already
wet through; you need to need to sit in front of a fire.”

Mary’s eyes
filled with tears as her face was taken between two large hands.
“What’s wrong Perfect Woman?” Mary’s eyes swivelled towards the
listening maid. “My wife is upset. Wait outside.”

“Very good my
Lord.”

The door was
still closing as Marshall repeated his question, “Well?”

She
unconsciously clutched her right breast as she sobbed, “I’m
afraid…”

“Of Henry?”
Mary cried with relief as she was gently pulled into his arms as he
muttered curses under his breath at his school friend. “You’re safe
with me Merry Wife. I won’t let him hurt you.”

“He threatened
to kill you…I don’t want you to die.”

“I’m not going
to die Sweetheart; forget this morbid nonsense. Henry will leave
you alone or I’ll pummel him.” Resting her cheek against his
shoulder, she concentrated on the gentle hand caressing her back.
Would Marshall believe her if she told him his old friend had
shoved his hand down her bodice? She winced at the unpleasant
memory made real by her aching breast. Without the pain she’d have
questioned her own senses. Soft lips caressed her forehead before
strong arms released her.

Mary clutched
his waistcoat pockets, “Don’t leave me.”

“We need to
change before we catch a chill. I fear the sight of me sweaty and
snotty would dissuade you to accept a permanent position…what? Why
are you crying now?”

“I don’t want
to be alone; I’m afraid.”

“I’ll leave the
inner door wide open; you may run into my room if you need me
though be warned I may be indecent.”

“I need
you.”

Mary shivered
with pleasure as laughter warmed her ear, “Those three words are
poetry, but unless you want to play Adam and Eve you’ll have to let
me go.” Gentle hands tipped back her face until she had to look him
in the eyes. Mary returned his light kiss and bravely let him step
away. She watched him prop the connecting door wide open and wink
at her as he started untying his cravat before disappearing into
his room. Choking panic subsided as she listened to Marshall’s
cheerful humming while the maid help her into dry clothes and
combed her hair. Her eyes remained fixed on the open door as
thoughts of her husband déshabillé made her blush. She shook her
head and resisted the impulse to peek into his room and see which
Adam he most resembled.

Changed into
dry clothes, she stared into the fire as she sat waiting for her
hair to dry. Returning her gaze to the door, she saw two bright
sapphires smiling at her. “Are you human or a mermaid trapped on
land?”

“Human.”

“I can’t hear
you; you must be speaking mermaid.” Mary blushed as she remembered
the maid’s presence. “I was hoping to see some colour in your
cheeks merry wife. Leave us!” The frightened maid jumped at the
deafening two words and fled. Mary forced a smile as Marshall knelt
in front of her chair and put his hand on her knee. “Is there
anything I can do for you?”

Mary shook her
head and absently straightened his cravat. Glancing at his face she
was momentarily stunned, by adoring eyes. He looked like a man in
love. She was imagining things again. “You’re much improved since
the wedding.”

His neck
flushed dark red as he reverently pressed closer, “Improved?
How?”

“You’re far
more handsome than you were a few weeks ago.”

“That wouldn’t
be because you’re eating three meals a day would it?”

“Perhaps.”

“Saucebox!
You’re supposed to say you were blinded by hunger and now you can
see the handsome man you married.”

“If you were
handsome you wouldn’t have married me.”

“If I was a
dolt I wouldn’t have married you. The moment I saw you bathed in
sunlight I knew you’d be a poem.”

“An eloquent
sonnet?”

“You’re neither
eloquent nor obedient enough to be a sonnet.”

“Oh…if I were a
poem what kind of poem would I be?”

“A saucy one
that extolled your virtues and parts; the gods were laughing when
they sent you to apply for my advertisement…” Mary’s hand was
gently claimed and pressed to his cheek. “…they knew I’d end up
your servant.” The kneeling man scowled, “Why are you smiling at my
sincere blandishments?” Mary leaned towards his ear and inhaled the
heady smell of masculinity. “Well?”

“The thought of
you as a servant; you’d be dismissed short shrift.”

The man on his
knees paled as he croaked in horror, “Merciful Merry, are you
planning to dismiss me? Do you find me unlovable?” The man looked
like he was on trial awaiting the verdict for high treason.

“No of course
not, I meant you’d make a poor footman silly.” Sapphires glittered
with relief as the inside of her wrist was worshipped with a gentle
kiss. “There’s someone knocking at the door.”

“Go away; I’m
making love to my wife.” He seemed oblivious to her scarlet cheeks
as he turned her hand over and kissed her palm before smiling up at
her:

“To see the
world in a grain of sand,

And heaven in
a wild flower,

Hold infinity in the palm of your hand…
”

“They’re still
knocking.”

Marshall’s
smile avalanched into a ferocious frown. “Some people…” Stomping
over to the door he yanked it open. “Are you deaf? I said I was
making love to my wife.” The two eldest Smirke brothers looked past
him and smiled at Mary still sitting by the fire. “Stop staring at
my wife and go to the devil.”

Cecil Smirke
leaned forward and wedged his foot in the door, “Your good Lady
looks like she’s stepped out of an illuminated manuscript…the only
thing missing is the stylised roses and gold leaf border.”

“I’d noticed.
Go away.”

Cecil Smirke
winked at the blushing woman and then smiled at her jealous
companion trying to shut the door, “Bucky asked us to tell you that
he’s having tables set up in the red drawing room for whist. We’ll
be playing for tarts. Bucky asked Mrs Cooper to produce some tarts
of a twelve-penny size like they make in Marylebone Gardens; he
thought she’d make a few dozen…”

“We have better
things to do.”

George Smirke
produced a saucer from behind his back holding a single miniature
tart, “Perhaps her Ladyship would care to sample one of the stakes?
This one’s filled with raspberry jam. I see the good lady’s
interest has been sparked…”

Marshall
grabbed the offered plate and tried harder to close the door, “Play
with the devil; I’d rather kiss my wife.”

Mary blushed as
the beautiful blonde Cecil winked at her again, “I’d rather kiss
your wife as well, but I’d end up with a black eye and a fat lip.
If her Ladyship is anxious about the event being blighted by
rakehells, Morley’s refused to play for anything less than a pound
a point. My Lady Raynham, pray kiss your husband and persuade him
to join us or one of my younger brothers may go tartless. Being the
eldest has to have some consolation.”

“My Lady
Raynham wishes you to the devil!” Marshall slammed the door as the
beautiful creature withdrew his foot and shoulder and reluctantly
carried the plate back to Mary and stood there holding it with a
scowl, “Your tart Madam.”

Mary stood up
and held out her hand, “I believe it’ll taste better served up with
William Blake.”

“You’re not
going to fall in love with that Smirke creature are you?”

“Mr Smirke was
teasing; I’m no more illuminated than I am beautiful.”

Mary shivered
with pleasure as Marshall fingered her hair, “The wretched Smirke
is right curse him; you do look like you’ve stepped out of a
medieval manuscript. I might have thought of it myself if you’d
ignored the cursed door.”

“Yes, but the
cursed door is now closed.” She licked her lips as her hand waited
for the tart. Still scowling, Marshall reluctantly placed the
pastry on the palm of her hand. “You needn’t be jealous; I’d rather
be married to you.” Marshall smiled in triumph, his eyes glittering
with apparent adoration. “I believe you were reciting William
Blake?”

“To see the
world in a grain of sand,

And heaven in
a wild flower,

Hold infinity
in the palm of your hand…

And eternity in an hour.
”

Mary bit off
half the tart and chewed with enthusiasm, “Infinity is delicious.
Here, I insist you taste infinity…” Mary’s heart froze as Marshall
eyed the half eaten pastry with a strange expression. Was there a
rule against the aristocracy sharing food? “You don’t have to eat
it, I’m sure the kitchens would send up…”