Marriage by Proxy

by Cathy Duke

  “She was on Ellis' ship, Gov'ner. I put her in your carriage with her companion.”

  Cooper was anxious to tell Arden all he knew as fast as he could. This was not a man he wanted to spend idle time with. It was rumored he had an explosive temper when it came to the subject of his new wife. “She is real sick and had to be carried to the carriage. Most of the crew was really sick, dropping like flies, they were. The Duchess and ‘er companion are behind me with another separate carriage for their trunks. You better get a doc ready, Gov'ner, if you don't mind me saying,” he added mopping the last of the raindrops off his face. “I be forgetting you are a doc …sorry, Gov'ner …and the roads are full of ruts and holes. The carriage is taking it slow,” he added nodding his own approval.

  “Thanks, Cooper. That was what I was looking for.” Arden went to his desk andtook some gold coins out of a drawer and tossed them to the man who nodded his head in thanks and backed out of the room in relief.

  “Thanks, Gov'ner.” Cooper bowed and left escorted by Godwin who came back to Arden for instructions.

  “Did you hear Godwin?” The very proper butler nodded his head. “Good. Get cook to prepare some broth, tea and whatever else you think and prepare the Duchess' rooms; get extra blankets ready as well as hot water.” Godwin set off to prepare things for the arrival of guests.

  It seemed forever before a bang on the front entry door snapped Arden to attention. He had been anxiously pacing before his fire in his library. Godwin swung the door open as a footman stood in the rain pointing to the standing carriage in front of Arden's home. As Godwin held an umbrella over Arden's head, Arden rushed to open the door of the carriage. He spotted the fragile figure wrapped in blankets lying in the carriage. Without hesitation he scooped her up against his chest with little effort and with Godwin making every effort to keep them dry holding an umbrella, he rushed for the door. Servants were prepared at the door to take coats and offer assistance as they crossed the threshold and worked their way into the grand entry. A footman assisted Millie, trying to keep her dry with another umbrella as she followed. Another servant was wiping the marble floors preventing anyone from slipping. Millie glanced at the amount of people all there to assist with concern all etched on their faces.

  As Arden took to the stairs, Millie followed close behind.

  “I presume you are her companion?” Arden asked over his shoulder as he continued up another flight of stairs, Millie barely keeping up.

  “Yes, Your Grace. I am Amy's friend, Millie Balston,” she responded as she found herself nearly out of breath dashing up the stairs to keep pace with Arden. After weeks on a ship, it was still strange to get her legs moving.

  “She has a high fever. How long has she been like this?” Arden asked as a maid opened the door of the Duchess' suite to let them in. They rushed through the door.

  “Her fever got worse as we traveled. Before that she was just feeling poorly, but conscious.”

  “So she hasn't been unconscious long,” Arden commented as he was unrolling the blankets from around Amy. He felt her forehead and checked her pulse. “Let's get her clothes off.” Millie and the maid began stripping her as Arden checked the bath water. “We'll warm her up in the tub. Her hair is already wet, so we will wash it and clean her up.”

  Once stripped of clothing, Amy moaned as she was lifted by Arden and lowered into the steaming tub of scented water. The maid began washing her hair and Millie started to wash her body when Arden raised a hand to stop her.

  “You must be exhausted. There is a tub readied in your room. Why don't you wash up and get some rest?” Arden suggested as he rolled up his sleeves and began washing Amy from head to toe. “I don't think I should…”

  “You do her no good if you become ill too. Get some rest and that is an order, Miss Balston. There is a ladies maid awaiting your every wish. Now go.” Millie nodded and slowly left the room reluctantly, as a maid showed her the way.

  The water was already dirty and Arden sent for more to rinse Amy with. After cleaning her with several rinses, he lifted her out of the tub and onto his lap with a thick towel he began pat her dry.. She was frail, and yet a natural beauty, was evident even in her condition. He glimpsed at her face, trying his best to be professional as a doctor, but it was impossible not to remember that this young woman was his wife and one he had not seen before. Her face was angelic and even lacking color, she was magnificent. That old picture he had seen of her as a child was hardly a clue to what she had become. But she needed his care right now, not his scrutiny.

  The maid began to comb snarls out of her hair as Arden continued to make certain she was dry. Another maid brought a clean sleeping gown that was slipped over her head. The fire was stoked to get the room even warmer. The scent of lavender filled the room as the tub was being emptied by a crew of efficient maids.

  Arden checked Amy's pulse again. She was so thin. Obviously she lost a lot of weight on this journey. “Have cook bring some chicken broth up and I'll try to get some down her. She needs some nourishment.” A maid hurried out of the room to get the broth. Again he looked at her face for a sign of life. Her eyes must be blue. Her light brown lashes were thick for a blonde and fanned her cheeks, and then his eyes slipped lower to her full lips which were chapped and dry from her illness. He touched them with his thumb and gently caressed the dry skin. He picked up a jar from the tray the maid offered and coated some of the thick lubricant mixture over her chapped lips.

  Arden lifted Amy up and as the maid pulled back the covers, Arden slipped Amy into bed as he drew the covers under her chin. She looked so frail and vulnerable. Her color was starting to come back and the fever had dropped already.

  Now he sat beside the bed and gazed at her lovely face, peaceful in sleep. Amy looked young, innocent and yet he knew how courageous she was to travel across an ocean facing a new life and a husband she did not know. None of the English ladies he knew could face such a chapter in their life without tears and breakdowns. No, she was made of stronger character.

  She had been just barely conscious enough for him to feed her some broth before she slipped into an exhausted sleep. But all was well. She would recover. She needed rest and fluids and some solids to bring back her strength.

  He hated to think what she had been through. It might have been cholera. If so, she had been lucky, as well as her companion. Many ships did not care about their water and food supplies like he did. But, with care she would make a full recovery.

  Studying her face, he was drawn to the beauty of a pale complexion. Her hair was like a cloud , so blonde, it was nearly white. She could have been an angel, at least she was the vision of one. She had classical beauty, even though her face now showed the results of her illness. Dark shadows beneath her eyes, hallow cheeks from lack of food and yet she was still striking, as no woman he had ever known. He watched the pulse at her throat and had a sudden desire to place his lips on it. Egad, what was he thinking? The woman had been through an ordeal…and he was thinking of…lust, yes, it was lust. She had a long road to recover and he needed to get control of himself. He hadn't had sex in years…he never mixed patient relationships with sex and he wasn't willing to risk catching something in the slums of Boston. Upon his return to

  England, a widow or two had amused him as he cleaned up the estate after the deaths of his family. But that was long ago.

  It was gut-wrenching to realize how close he had been to losing Amy. She was so fragile, like a breeze could blow her away. He thought of his friend John and said a silent prayer at the near tragedy had he not acted quickly.

  Daisy tucked another pillow under her head and placed her arms over the blanket. Arden looked at her hands as they lay peacefully over her chest. She was wearing a gold band with small ruby chips set around the circle. It was on her left hand, on the ring finger. He lifted her small delicate hand in his much larger hand and felt the calluses that she had earned for working to settle her father's estate. He would make that all better for her.
And the ring…he would put his ring on her finger. She was his wife now. He wondered briefly where the ring came from and what it meant to her.

  He had not thought about what she looked like in all the time since he agreed to marry her. Maybe she was a shrew. He was focused on the death of his friend and trying to help his friend's daughter get to England. He had not expected a beauty or the attraction he felt looking at her. There was something about her, something that drew him to her, obviously an attraction that was unexpected. Thinking beyond the journey and the stress that brought had not entered his mind and now it did. It was strange now that she was here, and seeing her for the first time and settling on the fact that he was actually married to this woman.

  They were strangers. For a woman it was harder. She was young, innocent with not much experience with life and men, which had to result in difficulty for her. He must be patient. Perhaps he would woo her, court her like he would a debutant. Looking at her now that might be difficult for him…she was enchanting and desirable and it reminded him how long it had been since he had a woman in his bed. Although normally with a patient it was all strictly business, he had allowed his mind wander about touching her body, and feeling the feminine curves. She was too thin, but her body had just the right size breasts, a handful that would fit his large hands, and with a small waist gliding into rounded hips made him lose his concentration on what the hell he was doing. But she was his wife, he reasoned.

  It had been a long hard day when he finally crawled into his bed, one connecting door away from the young woman sleeping peacefully. He had not thought much about his marriage, but instead had been dwelling on the grief he experienced at the loss of his friend. He already missed the regular letters from John. And now he had something new to worry about dominating his thoughts. When would the peace he desired come? He had a new responsibility and it wasn't as bad a thought as he might have expected. After all he was destined to take care of people.

  ****

  Millie fell right to sleep in the soft feather bed. After taking a hot, much needed bath and washing her dirty matted hair, a maid helped her dress in her night clothes and slip into the large feather bed. It had taken time to comb out all the snarls and then braid her hair to keep her thick hair manageable.

  The beautiful room was grander than she could ever imagine. In school, the girls had shared a large room with more than ten girls with little furniture and certainly nothing pretty to gaze at for simply the pleasure of it. They had lived out of trunks, at least those that had a trunk and belongings of their own. Being an orphan with nothing to her name left her nothing to hold precious, except her dreams. No trunk came with her. Nothing to stir a memory. It was as if she had no past. She envied the girls that had a precious mirror or silver hair brush or a hair clip with a story that related to a family member. Those things created part of a family attachment. She could have been hatched…a smile came with that thought.

  Millie's thick rich chestnut hair was finally clean aglow and shiny, not something she had experienced in many weeks. It was pure luxury to have a maid brush her hair until it was dry and braid it for her like she was a proper lady before a warm fire. She had argued that she could take care of herself, but the maid had insisted, saying His Grace would have her hide if she didn't perform her job. She had been sent a tray with cheese, ham and fruit with hot tea. It felt like a banquet after the ships food. She felt like she had died and gone to heaven. As she lay in bed she finally closed her eyes and finally began to dream like she never had before, although she still worried for her friend. His Grace would ensure her well-being, she was certain.

  ****

  At first Millie had had her doubts about getting on a strange ship bound for a country she knew little about. She knew no one but her friend Amy. With little prospects other than spinsterhood smacking her in the face, with perhaps a possibly of a teaching position at the school she and Amy had left, Millie decided to leave. Adventure had always been her dream and this was an opportunity not to be passed by.

  Millie had been left on the orphanage doorstep when she was a baby. The orphanage was cold, damp and overrun with rats. She had made a pet of a small rat that didn't seem to have a chance in life. She kept her pet a secret, carrying it in her apron pocket and feeding it bits of her own meager food offerings. She named the small rat Hope.

  Hope lived many years and then one day Millie found her pet had died in her pocket and she cried until there were no tears left. She had dried up her well of tears, she figured. She still grieved and had a lump in her throat every time she reached into her pocket to find it empty. She had buried Hope beside the vegetable garden she tended. No one understood her melancholy, but then no one knew of Hope. It was simply another sad chapter of her life and a secret she could not share. Her nightmare had been that someone would find out and take the rat away or worse yet, kill it. She stayed mum to protect all concerned.

  There was little to eat and with severe discipline dished out for the slightest provocation. Millie took the route of being invisible. She did what she was told without argument, stayed out of the way, never spoke unless spoken to and she survived well. It did not pay to be too happy or someone wanted to know why. When she turned fourteen she applied for a job as a seamstress at the all-girls school and was able to attend classes instead of pay. That is where she became happy and felt free to show it for the first time. That is where she met her dear friend Amy who treated her not just like a treasured friend, but a sister. At least she thought so, since she never had a sister to compare it to just as Amy too had no siblings.

  When Amy became ill on the ship and didn't seem to get better, Millie began to think she had made a mistake. If, God forbid, Amy had died, what would she do? She had little money and no other plan. She also would have no friend and no sister in her life. She hated to allow a negative thought to dwell too long in her mind. It was like a dark threatening cloud taking root in her mind that made everything dismal.

  But now all was well. Amy told her that she would be a paid companion, although Millie considered herself Amy's trusted friend. But this way, Amy argued, Millie would earn money and have freedom to do things she wanted. It all seemed so unreal.

  Millie knew Lord Brightmore to be a good man. The way Amy was scooped into his strong arms and carried lovingly up the stairs with such a quick pace showing his concern. He wanted to look after Amy and had dismissed her to tend to Amy himself. Doctor Barrett had chosen well for his daughter. Millie smiled as she fell into a peaceful sleep. Amy was in good hands and as for herself, well she would live a fantasy as usual.

  Chapter 4

  Brightmore Manor, England 1830

  Amy heard voices. She was thirsty and her mouth was dry as if it had been stuffed with cotton. The ship was not swaying and the nausea was gone. Thank goodness. No, she remembered that they had docked. Yes, they had arrived and Millie had tried her best to clean Amy up, but it seemed no use with the dirty water. Her hair was a mess. Snarls and dirty locks made her hair brown! She was not presentable. One of the captain's men carried her to a carriage. He smelled too. She remembered the rough ride, rain and potholes that jarred her back and forth with the rhythm of the carriage ride. She knew she must be bruised from the banging around on the seat of the carriage where she lay bundled in blankets to keep her warm. She had been so cold.

  Amy heard Millie's voice assuring her they would be there soon and all would be well. Millie patted her hand and fussed over her. Dear Millie. It seemed an eternity before they stopped. She had gone in and out of consciousness. She was so hot and then so really cold. Fever. That's what it was. And then, like magic, strong arms lifted her out of the carriage. He whispered something in her ear…something like, “All will be well sweeting,” but that couldn't be right. She must be dreaming. Who was this? But he would save her, like a knight in shining armor. Was she truly awake or still dreaming?

  His voice vibrated with a deep timbre that was soothing and calming. She had not heard a male
voice in centuries it seemed. So strange. She could hear his heart beat as she was held tightly against his chest. She felt safe, like there was no better place to be. She couldn't seem to open her eyes or speak. It would simply take too much effort and she was too weak. He smelled nice, like leather and spice…then she remembered how badly she smelled. Oh, no…knight. Hold your breath please.

  Oh, no, indeed! What must he think of her? She must look and smell like something the cat dragged in. How humiliating. So much for first impressions. She thrashed and struggled with the thought of getting away to clean herself, but she couldn't. She had no strength. She could gag with the odor. When was the last time she bathed for goodness sakes?

  “Easy, relax. I've got you now,” the deep voice said softly near her ear. The voice rumbled deep into her consciousness. Not her father. His voice was not nearly so deep nor did it rumble like this. It was pleasant and made her feel safe, like everything would be well now.

  The next thing she remembered was the hot bath and steam that felt like heaven.

  But he was scrubbing her…oh, no. But it felt good. She was too weak to even open her eyes. Her eyelids felt like heavy canvas that was too heavy to lift. It took too much energy to realize she was naked and then try to cover herself. Besides someone was massaging her scalp and the wonderful sent of lavender permeated the air. It smelled too good.

  The last thing she remembered was strong arms lifting her from the tub and drying her, her long hair being combed and the heat from the fireplace bringing sensual warmth throughout her entire body. But there was a male presence that was strong and attentive. The fragrance of him permeated the air and left her feeling safe and comfortable for the first time in weeks. She did not want him to go away and leave her now. Then she was put to bed and there was nothing she could think of that could be better. She could hear the conversations about her, but was too weak to let them know she was there with them listening. The voices were soft whispers of concern.