The Hired Wife (32 page)

“One does come
to mind…

Venus, with young Adonis sitting by her…
”

Mary fiddled
with his cravat before pulling out the knot. “Are you the young
Adonis?” Her impish smile ignored his scowl.

“Didn’t your
mother tell you not to interrupt a man trying to woo you with
poetry?”

“No, she just
said don’t marry a man out of desperation.”

“As I was
saying before being rudely interrupted by a wicked mermaid…

Venus, with
young Adonis sitting by her

Under a myrtle shade, began to woo him:
”

“I thought you
were wooing me.”

“One more
impertinent outbreak Madam and you’ll regret it!” Her soft snorts
of laughter belied his harsh tone. “I mean it. You won’t get any
pudding.

Venus, with
young Adonis sitting by her

Under a myrtle
shade, began to woo him:

She told the
youngling how god Mars did try her,

And as he fell to her, so fell she to him…
”

“What does it
mean he fell to her?”

“You’d
understand if you’d quit interrupting my attempts to be
romantic.”

“Pray forgive
my interruption my Lord.”

“Impudent Wife!
How many times have I told you not to address me as a God?”

“How else am I
to address my Adonis?”

“Adonis wasn’t
a god; he was merely loved by a god.”

“But surely if
he was loved by Venus she must have thought him godly?”

“I don’t care
what she thought! I’m not a god and you’ll address me by my name or
face my ungodly wrath. Where was I?”

“Adonis was
falling to Venus. Does that mean he fell on her or was falling for
her?”

Marshall gave
his smirking wife another harsh look. “As I was saying,

And as he fell
to her, so fell she to him.

‘Even thus,’
quoth she, ‘the war-like god embraced me,’

And then she
clipped Adonis in her arms;

‘Even thus,’ quoth she, ‘the war-like god unlaced
me,’
…”

“He unlaced
her? Are you trying to put me to the blush?”

“Interrupt my
wooing one more time Merry Godfrey and I’ll be forced to fell
drastic measures on your lips to silence you! You’ll be done for!”
Laughing, she pinched his nose and then smiled up at him. “Adonis
would never have put up with this irreverent cheek! Let me finish
the poem or I won’t kiss you for a week!” She obediently pinched
her lips together, but her eyes were laughing at him. She knew he
wouldn’t be able to wait a week. “As I was saying…

‘Even thus,’
quoth she, ‘the war-like god unlaced me,’

As if the boy
should use like loving charms.

‘Even thus,’
quoth she, ‘he seized on my lips,’

And with her lips on his did act the
seizure;
…”

He paused as if
hoping she’d offer to kiss him, but her lips remained obediently
pinched together. Visibly disappointed, he continued…

And as she
fetched breath, away he skips,

And would not
take her meaning nor her pleasure.

Ah! that I had
my lady at this bay,

To kiss and clip me till I run away.
”

“Does this mean
you’re planning to run away if I kiss you? What a daft poem. Who
wrote that?”

“Shakespeare; didn’t you listen to last two lines?
‘Ah! that I had my lady at this bay, to kiss and
clip me till I run away.’
I’d wager he
means he’d…just believe me he wouldn’t be running with his
feet!”

“What’s a
bay?”

“I assume it’s
in the attic where he’s at while writing the poem…”

“What does he
mean by clip?”

“This.”
Marshall tightened his arms about her and pulled her closer.

“Oh! I like
Shakespeare’s clipping…”

The adoring
look in her eyes made Marshall’s head feel as if it might float
away like a soap bubble. “Would you care for a sample of
Shakespeare’s kissing as well?”

“Will it be a
long sample?” Marshall accepted warm breath and silently wooed his
wife with a soft deep kiss. The sweet sensation of her fingers
combing through his hair made his heart beat faster. How could she
caress him with tenderness and not fall in love with him? Feeling
her tongue taste the edge of his lips he groaned in disappointment
as she abruptly broke free leaving him craving more. “Marshall,
there’s something I have to tell you…”

Her beaming
smile called a thousand love poems to mind as Marshall sighed in
resignation. He licked his lips as he wondered how long his
bursting heart could keep its secret against such charm. “Tell on
merry maiden…as if I could resist that smile.”

“Last night
after you fell asleep…”

“On top of
you.”

It was
Marshall’s turn to smirk as Mary blushed. “Don’t interrupt this is
important. Last night I realised…”

“My bed is more
comfortable?”

“No, I’ve been
asking myself the wrong question.”

Marshall’s brow
wrinkled in confusion. “What wrong question?”

“Do I love you;
I realised I could never answer the question.” Marshall felt his
face drain of blood as the words struck him like a physical blow.
She was oblivious to his chagrin as she picked up the book in her
lap and found her page. “I started asking myself other questions
and I found I could answer every single one without difficulty. And
then these disjointed words kept coming to mind. It was a poem, but
I couldn’t remember which one. I found it; your answer is a sonnet
by Shakespeare.”

“My answer?”
Marshall choked on uncertainty. “You can’t give me an answer. I
have two more months. You can’t make up your mind so soon; isn’t it
against one of your rules?”

“I thought you
didn’t want to wait two months.” Her smile faded into a look of
dread. “Did you want to wait to see if you find someone more
eligible?”

“No!” It was a
sharp bark. “I don’t want you to walk out of my life when I should
have two whole months to persuade you to stay.” Marshall clutched
Mary closer. “And if you try to feed me some lies how you can never
love me while smiling at me like that I’ll refuse you an annulment.
I’m sure if I had enough time…”

She reached up
and caressed his cheek. “This is your answer Marshall.

Against this
coming end you should prepare,

And your sweet semblance to some other giv
e…”

Marshall
groaned in horror. He couldn’t remember how the sonnet ended, she
read on oblivious to his distress.

“So should
that beauty which you hold in lease

Find no
determination: then you were

Yourself
again, after yourself’s decease,

When your sweet issue your sweet form should
bear
…”

Marshall held
his breath as the words ‘your sweet form’ settled in his frantic
brain like a cat in front of a Christmas fire. Did he dare hope?
Unsure he barked, “Start over and slow down! Shakespeare wasn’t
running when he wrote it.”

“Against this
coming end you should prepare,

And your sweet
semblance to some other give.

So should that
beauty which you hold in lease

Find no
determination: then you were

Yourself
again, after yourself’s decease,

When your
sweet issue your sweet form should bear.

Who lets so
fair a house fall to decay,

Which
husbandry in honour might uphold

Against the
stormy gusts of winter’s day,

And barren
rage of death’s eternal cold?

Oh! None but
unthrifts: Dear my love, you know

You had a father; let your son say so.
”

She slowly
closed the book and shyly looked up through her lashes into burning
blue sapphires.

Holding her
close with one arm Marshall reached round her and claimed her braid
and reverently pulled the end to his lips. “Let my son say so? Are
you telling me you love me?” Her cheeks flushed bright red as she
nodded her head. “You’re not saying that because Alyce is dead and
Emily’s run off with Buckingham and I’d die of loneliness if you
left me?” She shook her head. “You really love me?” Her beaming
smile confirmed it was true. “I make you feel like you’re in one of
John Donne’s love poems?”

“Take mee to
you, imprison mee, for I

Except you’ enthral mee, never shall be
free…
”

It was Marshall’s turn to blush as he silently finished the
poem,
‘Nor ever chaste, except you ravish
mee.’
He reluctantly filled his lungs with
air as he wrestled the impulse to jump up and carry her to his bed.
“Did you want to have another wedding ceremony? We could exchange
vows…”

She reached up
and put her fingers over his mouth. “I am Lady Mary Godfrey; unless
you wish to dismiss your hired wife?”

“I’d rather eat
a hemlock salad.”

“So the Lady in
the lake was right; you’re in love with me.”

“I told you I
was undone…” Shakespeare’s sonnets landed on the floor with a dull
thud as her hand reached up and combed into the nape of his neck
causing pleasant shivers.

“There be none
of Beauty’s daughters

With a magic
like thee;

And like music
on the waters

Is thy sweet voice to…
”

Marshall
inhaled his wife’s breath as she silenced his romantic words with
an eager kiss that caused sweat to bead on his skin. His clothes
had never felt so constricting. He couldn’t breathe with his throat
wrapped in linen. His lips momentarily released, he blindly tugged
at his cravat. “Merry…I’ve been in agony…” The words were still
echoing through the library as he kissed the fingers covering his
lips.

“I think we
should continue this conversation somewhere more private.”

Bliss bubbled
through Marshall’s veins as he struggled up out of the chair
holding his wife and headed for the door. His feet matched the pace
of his pounding heart as Mary waived her naked toes in the air
taunting him with future pleasures as she hummed a waltz in his
ear. His bedchamber in sight Marshall shouted, “Shall we dance for
joy Mrs Godfrey?”

“I would be delighted to dance for joy Mr Godfrey.” Marshall
impulsively swirled her in circles down the long corridor and
dropped her outside his bedchamber door. The world was still
spinning as Marshall pulled his laughing wife into his room and
locked the door. His own amusement was forgotten as she stood on
her toes, “
Shall I compare thee to a
summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more
temperate…
”

Marshall’s hand
trembled as it traced warm curves hidden under slippery yellow silk
as his blushing wife removed his cravat. “I’m in a poem.”

“Yes, one where
Adonis doesn’t run away.” Marshall’s snorts of laughter choked off
into silence as Mary put her hands on his chest and tipped back her
head. Her smiling eyes watched his lips approach through half
closed lids. “Do you love me?”

“Hmmm…yes…”
His lovesick groan trailed into silence as his slow kiss
demonstrated that poetry could sometimes be utterly inadequate.