The Marquis Takes a Bride

by M C Beaton

  “Then I shall send two footmen up with your bath,” said Mrs. Benton. “As my lord probably informed you, you will find your new wardrobe in the little dressing room over there. If you need anything further, my lady, please ring. I shall call to conduct you to my lord in an hour.”

  Jennie waited impatiently until Mrs. Benton had curtsied herself out and then flew to the dressing room, which was off the bedroom.

  She opened the doors of the closets and stared, wide-eyed.

  There were morning dresses, opera gowns, ball gowns, carriage dresses and walking costumes—a whole treasure trove of silk and lace and muslin met her startled eyes. She slowly slid open the long drawers of a low boy and found them brim full of lace and silk underthings. In the top drawers were gloves and fans. A stack of hat boxes stood in one corner and rows of dainty shoes, slippers and boots stood neatly arranged at the foot of the closet.

  How had he known her size so exactly? Why had he not written asking her to come—since he had gone to all this trouble?

  But Jennie was too young and feminine to worry too much. And too excited over so many new and beautiful things. She thought of Guy’s handsome face lighting up in surprise as he saw the transformation.

  She bathed thoroughly, relishing the luxury of not having to carry away the dirty bath water herself.

  With fingers that trembled slightly, she pulled a few of the lacy undergarments from the drawers and then searched along the row of dresses.

  She finally chose a silk plaid dress with a high lace collar and long tight sleeves trimmed with lace at the cuffs. She then sat down at the dressing table and tried to twist her curls into some semblance of a fashionable hairstyle.

  When Mrs. Benton escorted her down the stairs again, Jennie was conscious of a rising sense of excitement. What would her husband say when he saw how pretty she looked?

  The Marquis was already seated at the luncheon table when Jennie was ushered in. He gave her a welcoming smile but, to Jennie’s disappointment, made no comment on her transformation.

  “Sit down my dear,” he said, “and tell me your news. I have missed you.”

  “Then why did you leave me at home?” demanded Jennie sulkily, shaking out her napkin.

  The Marquis looked shocked. “Me? Take you away from your beloved home? No, my heart, I left that decision entirely to you. Do your grandparents know where you are?”

  “I wrote them a real letter,” said Jennie proudly.

  “A real letter,” said the Marquis, much amused. “What, then, is an unreal letter?”

  Jennie gave him a sullen look and flushed to the roots of her hair. How could she tell him of the hours she had labored over the dictionary or, in fact, of the hours she had taken to find that elusive book.

  “We are invited to the Devey’s ball tonight,” said the Marquis. “Would you care to go?”

  “Oh, yes,” breathed Jennie, her sullen expression vanishing to be replaced by one of delight.

  “Then I suggest after you have finished your lunch, you lie down for the afternoon and rest. I shall choose something for you to wear.”

  “You’ll what?” said Jennie, dropping her fork. “I would have you know, my lord, that I am perfectly capable of choosing my own gown.”

  “You will be, very soon,” he said calmly. “But for the moment you will be guided by me.”

  “Either I choose my own gown,” said Jennie, very slowly and distinctly. “Or I do not go.”

  “As you will,” replied her lord with great good humor.

  “You are infuriating,” hissed Jennie. “I mean to go to that ball and I mean to go in a gown of my own choosing. Either you agree to it or I shall… I shall… I shall hold my breath.”

  “No, I won’t agree,” said the Marquis, equably.

  “Then I shall hold my breath and if you do not agree to let me have my way, I shall die!”

  She took a deep breath and screwed up her eyes. The Marquis sat back in his chair and surveyed her with interest.

  Jennie waited in agony for him to give in and at least try to coax and cajole her. The delicious smell of the food on her plate was making her feel weak with hunger. She had never smelled such delicious food before.

  Tears of frustration began to gather in the corner of her eyes and the Marquis took pity on her.

  He moved around the table in a leisurely way and gave her a resounding slap on the back.

  She gasped and choked and glared at him like an angry kitten. “I shall let you have your way this time,” she muttered. “But it is dangerous to cross me, my lord.” She looked across the table at him. He had returned to his seat and was holding his napkin up to his face. His eyes were as tearful as Jennie’s and she realized he was trying not to laugh out loud.

  She looked at him angrily from under the spikes of her eyelashes and then said reluctantly, “Oh, very well. Just this time.”

  “Come, my dear,” smiled the Marquis. “Tell me you are at least pleased with your new clothes.

  Jennie had the grace to blush. She should have thanked him immediately. “I am v-very g-grateful for all the beautiful gowns,” she muttered in a voice which sounded to her own ears very ungracious.

  “It is my pleasure to give you gifts. Not every husband is blessed with so elegant a wife,” he said, leaning back in his chair and watching her with lazy amusement. “Now, tell me, how was your summer?”

  “Oh, it was vastly amusing,” cried Jennie, rallying quickly. Not for one minute would she let this enigmatic husband of hers know of the long days of boredom. “We had a few parties and balls in the county, so the days passed very well.”

  “Indeed,” he smiled. “You must have been very sad to leave it all. Why did you leave your grandparents a letter and then endure such a tedious journey? You should have written to me and I would have made all the arrangements for your journey to town.”

  He studied the top of his wife’s dark curls as she bent her head suddenly over her plate. “They said I should wait until you sent for me,” she said at last. She looked up quickly but his face betrayed nothing more than amiable interest. “I acted on an impulse.”

  “I am flattered,” he said. “It must have been frightful traveling in the storm. You did not take the stage, I trust.”

  “Oh, but I did!” said Jennie, “and I rode outside.” Forgetting her defiant role, she began to describe the journey, the discomfort of the stage, gaily mimicking the voices of the other passengers, so engrossed in her story that she failed to notice the dawning look of admiration on her husband’s face.

  “There is no need to go through such an experience again,” he said quietly. “I am here to look after you, you know… although at times you might not understand.” He added with a smile, “I even believe I am helping you in suggesting I should choose your gown for this evening. You should not be angry with me, you know.”

  She gave him a reluctant grin. “Maddening man! Do you usually get your own way?”

  “I always get my own way,” said the Marquis, laughing. “Never mind, my lady wife, you shall be the belle of the ball, that I promise.”

  The Marquis was as good as his word and Jennie was not only the belle of that ball but of many other balls and parties to follow. She was mildly puzzled by the absence of Guy from these occasions. She did so want him to see her in all her finery. Surely Guy moved in the same circles as the Marquis. Why, he had told her so himself, and Guy never lied.

  But the novelty of wearing pretty dresses and being escorted everywhere by a handsome and complaisant husband and having Sally Byles in town as well, was enough to keep Jennie from thinking too much about the absent Guy.

  She was delighted and relieved in a way to find that her husband had his own suite of rooms and showed no desire to share her bed. In fact, she told herself nightly how delighted she was and persuaded herself that her husband was no more than a bloodless manmilliner.

  She confided as much to Sally Byles during an intimate coze and was amazed to see her frien
d’s healthy country features stained with a painful blush.

  “Perhaps I should not discuss such things with you Sally,” said Jennie contritely. “But we have never had any secrets from each other.”

  “It’s not that, Jennie,” said Sally, looking worried. “Are you not frightened that your husband might look elsewhere for consolation?”

  “Oh, Chemmy’s not interested in women. He only cares for clothes,” remarked Jennie rather smugly.

  “You’re impossible,” Sally burst out. “Don’t you know that Alice Waring was his mistress for years?”

  Jennie stared at her. “Do you mean that very beautiful woman who attended my wedding?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Oh,” said Jennie in a small voice.

  “It’s all over, of course,” said Sally quickly, feeling that her friend had suffered enough. “Mrs. Waring is now under the Earl of Freize’s protection. But ’tis whispered that she is still in love with the Marquis.”

  Jennie was not old or wise enough to recognize jealousy when she felt it. She was only conscious of an overwhelming desire to prove to her husband that she was attractive to other men.

  An opportunity placed itself in her way sooner than she expected.

  She arose unusually early one morning and was descending the stairs to the morning room when, to her surprise, she heard the butler, Roberts, saying in a firm voice, “I am sorry Mr. Chalmers, my lord and lady are not at home.”

  “Guy!” cried Jennie, running down the stairs and darting past the startled butler. “Guy, my darling Guy. Of course I am at home.”

  She caught his hands and smiled radiantly up into his face. He looked thinner and older than she had remembered, but he was still her beloved Guy.

  She ignored the stiff disapproval of the butler and drew Guy into the morning room, slamming the door behind them.

  “I thought you had forgotten me,” said Jennie.

  “As if I could!” exclaimed Guy. “It’s all the fault of that cursed husband of yours. First, he takes you away to Kent forever and then he tells his servants to refuse me admittance.”

  “But I was never in Kent,” said Jennie, puzzled. “He left me with my grandparents after the wedding.”

  “Well, if that don’t beat all,” said Guy wrathfully. “Look Jennie. Get your coat and bonnet. I’ll take you for a drive. If we don’t move quickly, your husband will be downstairs and we’ll never have a chance to talk.”

  It took Jennie only a few minutes to collect her belongings, leave the house, and climb up into Guy’s carriage.

  He drove her to a secluded corner of Green Park and then reined in his horses.

  An amazed Jennie heard his tale of journeying to Kent and how her husband had pretended she was with him.

  “But I have been everywhere since I came to town,” cried Jennie. “Why have I not seen you?” She began to reel off a list of notable names and houses and Guy scowled. He did not want to tell her that he was not in the habit of moving in such elevated circles.

  “Oh, these things are a cursed bore,” he said vaguely. “I tear up the invitations as soon as I get ’em. Let me look at you. God, but your beautiful!”

  He drew her into his arms and began to kiss her passionately. She finally pushed him away, feeling muddled and somehow guilty and forlorn. A large brown Jersey cow ambled over to the carriage and looked up at her accusingly.

  “I am a married woman now, Guy,” she said breathlessly. “We should not be doing this.”

  “What happened to your marriage of convenience?” sneered Guy. “I’ll bet his lordship climbed into your bed as soon as possible.”

  “No!” cried Jennie, much flushed. “He has honored our arrangement. He has been most kind. And… and he has bought me all these pretty clothes.”

  “Well, that’s one thing he should be good at,” said Guy. “He certainly picked out a fine wardrobe for Alice Waring.”

  Jennie looked miserably down at her hands. She was being childish to hope that love should grow in such an odd marriage. She turned and sadly leaned her cheek against Guy’s coat, hoping he would hold her and comfort her in the old brotherly way. But he caught her in his arms and began to kiss her in a way that made her feel excited and strange.

  “We must see more of each other, Jennie,” said Guy.

  “It’s difficult. My husband goes everywhere with me,” replied Jennie, looking nervously around the park as if expecting to see the tall figure of her husband striding across the grass.

  “You’ve a voice, haven’t you,” said Guy impatiently. “Use it! Tell him you do not need his escort everywhere. He will be happy to be free again to go to his club… or to the arms of Mrs. Waring.”

  Jennie gave a little sigh. Her reunion with Guy had not been as exciting and romantic as she had dreamed.

  But he was all she had to cling to in a world which had gone unaccountably drab and gray. Why should her husband keep a mistress and yet expect her to behave herself? In her growing fury, she forgot all Sally’s news that Mrs. Waring was now under someone else’s protection.

  “Look here,” said Guy urgently. “I will meet you at the corner of Albemarle Street at the same time tomorrow. I know of a little place we can go to where we can be private… just to talk, you know,” he added cleverly. “Just like old times.”

  “Very well,” said Jennie. “We had better go back now, Guy, before anyone sees us.”

  The next morning Jennie crept quietly down the stairs and opened the hall door. It was all so easy! Her husband had not even mentioned Guy’s visit.

  It was a cold and glittering day with a high wind gusting great fleecy clouds across a pale blue sky.

  Jennie paused on the doorstep to tuck her hands into her swansdown muff. The voice of her husband behind her nearly made her jump out of her boots.

  “You should not go out unescorted,” came Chemmy’s languid voice from behind her. She turned slowly around. He was dressed to go out in a long frogged beaver coat. He had his curly brimmed hat perched at a jaunty angle on his fair hair and his cane tucked under his arm.

  “I felt like g-going for a walk,” stammered Jennie.

  “Splendid!” said her husband. “We shall walk together. Nothing like walking, you know,” he added conversationally, tucking her hand in his arm. “Clears the spleen and exercises the liver.”

  As they approached the corner of Albemarle Street, Jennie was all too conscious of the conspicuous figure of Guy, sitting perched on his carriage.

  “Why, there is Mr. Chalmers,” said the Marquis, politely bowing to that gentleman. “We must be setting the fashion for early rising, my dear. Good day, to you Chalmers. A splendid morning, is it not?”

  Guy gave the couple a stiff bow, staring down at the top of Jennie’s smart bonnet. She cast him one fleeting, anguished glance and then moved off around the corner on her husband’s arm.

  He sat there, holding the reins for what seemed an age, but was in fact only a few minutes, when he espied the Earl of Freize’s two burly footmen ambling along the pavement towards him.

  He slowly drew some gold from his pocket and began to toss it up and down in his hand so that the coins chinked merrily and flashed in the pale sunlight.

  “I say you fellows,” Guy cried, as they came abreast. “Perhaps you might like to perform a little commission for me.”

  “This is absolutely ridiculous,” thought Jennie as they turned in at the gates of Green Park. Away from the shelter of the buildings, the wind appeared to be increasing in force by the minute and the blue sky was turning to gray. No clouds blew across but rather seemed to sink down through the blue to cover the heavens in a gray blanket.

  The trees rattled their branches as they passed underneath and frost-edged leaves scurried and whispered over the grass.

  Jennie covertly eyed her large husband from under the shade of her bonnet. A man so finely dressed and so concerned over the cut of his clothes could have very little stamina for anything so energetic as a b
risk walk on a cold day. She had a sudden desire to show him what a useless and effete specimen of humanity he was.

  “I love long walks,” she said brightly, “but then I am a country girl. I never get tired so you must tell me when my energy begins to tax your… er… stamina.” The latter was said with a faint tinge of contempt. Jennie glanced up at the blue eyes so far above her own and surprised that strange, slight narrowing of the pupils she thought she had imagined before at Runbury Manor. The next second, however, the eyes were bland and smiling.

  “Thank you for your concern,” he said, imperceptibly quickening his pace as they walked on together in silence.

  Jennie’s toes were beginning to freeze in the thin leather of her boots and her nose was turning an unbecoming pink.

  Her lord strolled along beside her as if he were taking a walk on the finest of summer days. He was still holding her arm in a firm clasp and his nearness made her feel uncomfortable. She had hardly ever been completely alone with her husband. At home, there were always the servants, and at balls and parties there were several hundred people packed around them, elbow to elbow.

  She thought of the beautiful Alice Waring. She was sure Mrs. Waring’s nose never turned red with cold. She felt like a drab and longed for Guy, with his reassuring compliments and kisses.

  “This is a splendid idea of yours, Jennie,” said the Marquis after they had been walking for about an hour. “I feel like a new man. We must do this every morning. Is anything the matter, my heart? I could swear you groaned. No? In that case let us walk some more. I declare, it is beginning to snow. I love snow. It brings out the schoolboy in me. So pretty. But the squirrels will go back to their trees. See that little fellow, Jennie. See how daintily he holds that nut in his little paws.”

  Jennie privately enjoyed some unladylike thoughts about the squirrel and contented herself with murmuring “Yes” through frozen lips.