Smirke 01 - An Unlikely Hero

by Cari Hislop

  “Is she with child?”

  “I’m here to buy a wedding license to marry the chit. I obviously don’t care if she comes with a brat or a bundle of biscuits.”

  “Hmmm…” The negative unhelpful sound soured John’s forced smile. He could see nothing in the room that might conceal ink, pen and a printed form. “It’s uncanny; you look just like your father except that he was a good man.”

  “Yes he was. We don’t have time for pleasantries. We have a journey back to Bath this morning. If you’ll sell us the license we’ll be on our way.” John felt strengthened by an adoring smile.

  “One of my brothers married your father’s sister.”

  The words rushed past John’s ears as meaningless chatter. “I’m glad to hear it. They do say its good luck to have a Bishop in the family.”

  “Lady Mary called on me for moral support when you kidnapped her daughter.”

  Panic squeezed John’s internal organs. He didn’t want past sins interfering with his plans for a pleasurable afternoon. “Yes well…I was rather young and…horrid.”

  “Horrid? Threatening to force yourself on a woman unless she acquiesces to your wishes is beyond despicable.”

  “True. It’s high on my list of sins to repent I assure you.”

  “Repent? You? Don’t make me sick. Devils don’t repent! You kidnapped her, tied her up and held her hostage until she consented to marry you. If anyone mentions you she becomes violently ill.”

  “She’s not the only one.”

  “It’s no laughing matter, you fiend!”

  “Am I laughing? I assume Lady Mary forgot to tell you that your innocent niece insisted her mother invite me to visit for a few months. I was lonely with empty pockets and she made it quite clear she was in love with me. She demanded my kisses and led me a merry chase. Does it make her ill to mention how she dismissed my genuine offer of marriage with derisive laughter because I was a third son without anything, but hope that our great Uncle would finally succumb to the pox and leave me his property? She played me for a pretty fool.”

  “You heartless knave, you left her naked on her mother’s doorstep with the word ‘punk’ written all over her…skin…”

  “So I did. I recall my finger was ink stained for days.”

  “Infidel!”

  “I’m not here for a moral lecture my Lord. I don’t care what you think of me. Sell us a marriage license before I lose my temper.”

  The older man ignored John and stepped closer to inspect Joan through the glasses sitting on the end of his nose. “How old are you child?”

  “Eighteen my Lord.”

  “Where are your parents? Do they know you’re in the clutches of a heartless fiend?”

  “My parents are dead my Lord, but…”

  “You must have a guardian. There has to be someone who’ll defend you. This villain can’t legally marry you without your guardian’s permission.”

  “Mr Smirke is my legal guardian.”

  “I don’t know what trickery he’s…”

  Frozen black eyes narrowed, “Miss Lark is my legal ward and we wish to marry. Give us the paperwork or you’ll wish you had…”

  “Indeed my Lord, I know Mr Smirke has been very wicked, but I love him and he is trying to change. It’s true he’s having difficulty understanding the concept of being good…”

  “Good? You’re talking about one of Satan’s favourite servants.”

  “To hell with Hell; I’m going to Heaven if I have to die of boredom!”

  “I know Mr Smirke isn’t perfect, but neither are you. How do we know that you haven’t been a fiend?” John smiled as the older man flushed a deep purple.

  “How dare you compare me with that devil? His soul is as black as his eyes.”

  “You don’t know anything about my soul and if you keep trying to turn my ward against me I’ll…blast revenge to hell.” John started cracking the knuckles of his left hand as he tried to stay calm. “I have every right to marry Miss Lark. Sell me the license!”

  “Mr Smirke is trying very hard to be good. Forgive him for being horrid to your niece and let us have the paper. He’s not well. We need to marry so he can sleep in my bed. He’s in desperate need of a wife’s loving touch…”

  “I will never forgive that smirking devil for insulting my darling Annabelle. You’re clearly confused child; he’s probably drugged your food.”

  “Mr Smirke would never…well, he wouldn’t do that sort of thing any more and I’m not in the least confused. I wish to marry Mr Smirke because I love him.”

  John leaned forward and sneered in triumph, “She loves me!”

  “Go home child and ponder the fate of ladies chained to lecherous villains. You’re too young to understand what this man will do to you. He’ll ruin your life. He’ll use you and cast you off like a soiled garment.”

  “He can’t cast off a wife…well, not without a petition of divorce, but that would cost him a fortune and parliament wouldn’t grant it anyway. Not after I’ve had ten babies with black eyes. Besides, it would break my heart…I’d cry and then he’d feel like a maggot. You wouldn’t cast me off would you Mr Smirke?”

  “I pray you never fall in love with another man, I’d kill him. They’d hang me and I’d end up in hell longing for you without end.”

  “How could any man compare with perfection?”

  Smirke sighed as a large dose of pleasure gushed through his veins. “She loves me!”

  “She’s obviously blinded by your sickly prettiness. Leave off this nonsense child. You don’t want to become the property of a monster.”

  “Stop trying to dissuade her. I deserve to be loved as much as the next man.” John’s voice rose to an angry shout, “Sell me a blasted license before I lose my temper and all probability of ending up in heaven.”

  “Leave my house Mr Smirke and don’t return unless I’m in a sealed lead coffin.”

  “I’m not leaving without a license.” The Bishop took a hand bell out of his large pocket and shook it until the doors opened to reveal four unfriendly footmen clenching their fists in anticipation. “Blasted…alright…I’m leaving. You’re lucky hell is so unthinkably awful, because if it wasn’t I’d make you suffer.”

  “Get out!”

  “With pleasure…if I have to look at your vomit coloured wallpaper one more minute I’ll be enhancing the foul design of your pink carpet.” John put a protective arm around his disheartened bride and led her back outside into the cold.

  “What are we going to do now Mr Smirke? My hips are aching and I feel like…sniff…like doing something dreadful to that horrid man. I just want to be your wife. It was really cold last night. I was looking forward to warming my feet on your legs this evening.”

  “How do you think I feel? I’m the one whose going to explode if I don’t…don’t cry Miss Lark, I feel bad enough.” He gently wiped away her tears with the back of his hand. “This is only a minor set back. We’ll start for London post chase tomorrow to purchase a special license from the Archbishop.”

  “What if we reach London and the Archbishop has the plague? I think we should have the banns read, just in the case we have to return to Bath.”

  “We’re not having the banns read. Nothing bad is going to happen. We’ll travel post chase to London and be married before you can say, ‘I need a new wardrobe’.”

  “But what if the Archbishop won’t marry us? What if he hates you?”

  “The Archbishop will be alive and someone will marry us. Don’t fret woman, I’ll take care of you. Mamma should have told me that beastly Mansel was Lady Mary’s brother. I’d have gone straight to London. Mamma…”

  “Never mind your Mamma, let’s find a fire before we freeze to death.”

  “Yes, I need a private parlour where I can warm your lips.”

  “You’re a very attentive guardian Mr Smirke.” Joan winked calling John’s crooked smile to his lips.

  “I understand Charity begins at home Miss Lark. Take
my arm…limp faster, I need a kiss.”

  Chapter 12

  The sky was a soft deepening grey as the couple remounted and ambled out of Bristol. Every few miles John stopped to warm his hands and thaw out his lips on his cheerful companion chattering in between biscuits. “The trees look like their going to reach out and pull us into a netherworld with their bare branches.” John eyed the evil looking trees and hurried the horse on. Light was fading by the time the two weary travellers reached the outskirts of Bath. Joan pulled her face free of green wool and smiled as black eyes glanced down, “I feel like I’m in a beautiful painting. You must have been painted with magical pigments crushed in the mortar of the Gods.”

  “And you must be God’s new pestle.”

  “I’d rather be a brush. I don’t want to be abrasive.”

  “Sometimes abrasion is highly desirable.” John’s husky words heated Joan’s cold cheeks.

  “That sounds suspiciously sinful Mr Smirke.”

  “Only if I were to prove the theory before I make you my wife.” There was just enough light to illuminate black pools of lust.

  “Don’t look at me like that Mr Smirke; I don’t like it.”

  John’s lust crystallized into anger. “You’ll learn to like it!” The words were cold and brittle. “Playing a simpering Miss at the eleventh hour will generate no sympathy from me. Agnes talked with you about the marriage bed yesterday didn’t she? You weren’t shy about climbing on my horse this morning and sharing my kisses.”

  “You’re being horrid again. Hurry up and take me home I’m freezing.”

  John pulled his resisting ward back into his arms. “Stop squirming or you’ll fall off the horse. I am not being horrid. It’s perfectly natural for a man to want to bed his bride. If I didn’t want to bed you I wouldn’t be risking my neck and sanity to make you my wife.”

  “Is that the only reason you’re marrying me? Because you find me desirable?”

  “Well I wouldn’t marry you if you weren’t desirable.”

  “Oh I see. So if I was like the girl I went to school with whose nurse dropped her in the fire and who only had one eye and half a head of hair hidden under a wig you wouldn’t marry me?”

  “Good heavens, I’d never marry a malformed wench. I can’t abide ugly women.” John squirmed as Joan’s silence became heavier with every few yards. “There’s no need to sulk; I can’t stand ugly people and that’s that.” Her reply was to forcefully withdraw her arm from his waist and take hold of the saddle for support. “Fine! Sulk in silence if you will; I’d rather have peace and quiet than listen to you rambling like an idiot anyway.” Her bonnet turned sharply away. John seethed in silence as Joan regally ignored him.

  Night was wrapping Bath in a freezing mist as John stopped the horse outside his brother’s house. He could see several dark heads against the lighted interior watching for them. The front door burst open spilling Smirkes onto the street. “Where have you two b-b-been? Mamma’s sick with worry.”

  “We’ve been visiting the fairies.” Peter ignored John’s sarcasm and plucked Joan off the horse and carried her into the house shouting orders for someone to help his brother off the horse. John limped into the green and gold reception room where Joan was being attended like a princess by his mother. He joined her near the fire and scowled as servants removed his wet outerwear and handed him a hot cup of tea. His ill-humour soured as Joan continued to ignore him and his mother kept glancing at him with a suspiciously unhappy expression. “If you’d remembered that Mansel is related to Lady Mary Mamma; we’d have been saved a pointless exercise of freezing half to death. We’d be over half way to London by now.”

  “Huh!” Joan snorted in contempt. “What Mr Smirke has neglected to tell you is that if he hadn’t tried to strangle the footman we might have been sold a license. We might have been able to marry tomorrow morning.” Eyebrows flew skyward as all eyes turned to give John the attention he was craving.

  “Jean Sébastien, is that true?”

  “I apologised to the man Mamma.”

  “Oh Jean…I thought you were trying to be good?”

  “I am being good!”

  “He’s being horrid.”

  “She’s sulking because I can’t stand ugly women. Though I don’t see why that should bother her. It’s not like anyone with eyes would find her unpleasing.”

  All eyes turned to watch Joan jump out of her chair, “What if I get small pox or a wasting disease and lose my looks? Are you going to cut me from your life? Will you stop loving me when my face wrinkles?”

  “You’re becoming hysterical. You need to eat some supper and go to bed.”

  “Will you stop loving me if I become ugly Mr Smirke?”

  “Your hysterics are no doubt entertaining my family, but I’m not amused.”

  “Coward!” Peter jumped forward to protect the girl as John paled with fury.

  “Go to your room Miss Lark and stay there until my temper cools or else.”

  “Or what, you’ll beat me? That would make you a liar as well as a coward and a fiend. You said you’d never hurt me. I thought you were a man of your word?” John clenched his fists and visibly trembled, his black eyes marbled with rage and embarrassment, “I don’t like ugly people. I never have. They make me feel uncomfortable. Yes, if you become hideous I’ll avoid you until after dark unless you wear a mask, but I wouldn’t lock you away or divorce you. I’m not a monster.”

  “You’d still love me?”

  Joan’s hopeful tone offered an olive branch, but John’s pride was too bruised to accept it. “Have no fear Miss Lark; you can not lose that which you do not possess.”

  “I see…forgive me my Lady, but I need to retire. There’s an ugly man in the room making me feel uncomfortable. Peter, would you help me to my room?”

  John’s lips were two white lines as he watched Joan limp from the room supported by his tall beautiful brother. Turning back to his family he found himself the object of unanimous censor. Even James was visibly appalled. “What are you all staring at? Do you want me to lie? Do you want me to pretend I’d enjoy having an ugly wife?”

  “You’d make your wife wear a mask? Are you mad?” Cecil’s outburst earned him a shrivelling look.

  “Jean Sébastien…” His mother’s exasperated pity was an uncomfortable comfort. “…say not one more stupid word to that poor girl tonight. I pray she forgives you by morning.”

  George Smirke shook his head in disgust, “I suggest you affect a Scottish accent and call yourself Lord Idiot Argyll. Joan might not realise you’re you are until the hammer strikes the anvil.”

  “At least we know who to consult when we find ourselves engaged to the wrong girl. Uncle John’s sure to know how to inspire a jilting.” Robert Smirke punched his big brother to emphasise his point.

  Cosmo folded his arms and revelled in a vision of being worshiped by a beautiful woman. “If Joan looked at me the way she looks at Uncle John, I’d prostrate myself at her feet and beg her forgiveness in between well timed sobs and an emphatic declaration that I had to be possessed by the devil to have said something so stupid. It’s not faire. I’d be a good husband. Why does Joan love Uncle John when she could have me? I’m far better looking and I’m free of venereal diseases.”

  “Because the woman doesn’t want a boy of sixteen; thank you all for your kind words and heartfelt concern, but I don’t need a lecture on how to manage my wilful dependant.” He turned on his heel and limped from the room. His intention to go to James’s study and slam the door was forgotten in view of the staircase. He put his hand on the banister and clenched the polished wood as he stared upwards. How dare she embarrass him? How dare she make him feel like a monster? He put one foot on the stairs and then another. Her bedchamber door was open; his brother was putting more coal on the fire as one maid fussed with the bed and another removed Joan’s footwear. It was a cosy scene of marital bliss. The thought of Joan married to his brother stabbed him in the chest. The blade struck ag
ain as his brother touched Joan on the sleeve to inquire if she needed anything for the night. John couldn’t hear her reply as his ears roared with an awful emptiness. Peter turned and hardened his jaw on seeing John standing just inside the room, his hands in his pockets. A few strides and Peter was blocking John’s view of Joan, “I think you’ve said quite enough for one evening d-don’t you?”