The Misfit Marquess

by Teresa DesJardien

  "Have you been drinking this morning? Or up all night drinking?" she had inquired, sniffing near his face for hints of alcoholic vapors.

  "I am insulted!" he had cried, smiling at her, reminding her that he had a very pleasant smile, one that made parts of her flutter that had no right to be fluttering at all. "Do I look as though I have been awake all night?"

  She meekly answered, "No," because it was the truth. He had clearly been at some pains to look tidy and fashionable, plainly the results of now having a valet. He wore all grey, except for a cream-colored waistcoat shot with yellow threads, and his hair was neatly combed back and caught taut in a queue. Although she liked his hair long and unfettered, this cleanly swept-back look, too, had its advantages, making the most of his strong features.

  Now breakfast, surely one of their last together, was past. Gideon had carried her into the library and then returned nearly all her jewels to her. And it was only a few days until the modiste could deliver the ordered gowns. Time was sweeping by too quickly ... and Gideon was being all that was jovial. They sat together, supposedly selecting something to read, except Gideon was more interested in cheerful banter than selecting from the tomes surrounding them. She remembered his reluctance to have her here at all when first she had wakened from her unconsciousness, and could not help but think he must be delighted at all this proof that his guest would soon be gone.

  His garrulousness now extended to rising from his chair to perch before her on one knee. "May I see these on you?" he asked, nodding toward the jewelry in the folds of her skirt. "The pearls?"

  "Whyever for?" she replied, her heart fluttering painfully in her chest.

  "Because I have never seen you in jewels."

  "Very well," she conceded, dropping the pearl earbobs in his palm.

  He affixed one to her right ear, then leaned back and tilted his head, gazing at the result. "Just as I thought. With your dark hair, pearls suit you well."

  Color spread up Elizabeth's face, as much from his nearness as from the compliment.

  "As does a blush." He smiled at her, reaching to affix the other earbob. He leaned back again to admire his handiwork and sighed. "I could wish you had no need to pawn your jewels, dear lady."

  "I must," Elizabeth said simply, probably blushing more deeply from the endearment, but not caring overmuch that she did. What was there in her life left for her to blush about that Gideon did not know?

  He reached for both her hands, cradling them between his own. "If you wish it, I will see to the task for you. I could get a better price in Bristol, if you would not mind my doing this for you." His gaze was sympathetic, but at least it was not pitying. Elizabeth did not think she could bear knowing that he pitied her; it was good of him to hide it from her.

  'Thank you, yes. I am assured you could obtain a superior price than could I."

  He nodded, accepting the commission. "Tell me, Elizabeth," he said quietly, still holding her hands with his left hand while he reached to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear with his right. "Why did you blush a moment ago, when I said the pearls suited you? Was it that the pearls must be traded away, or that I gave you a compliment?"

  Her color deepened as she tried to think how to answer, how to say it was both and neither, how to avoid saying that he need not speak a word, but only remain near and that would be sufficient to put her to the blush. But when she parted her lips, there were no ready or glib words. All she could think was that Gideon had become precious to her, and that he was near, near enough that she had but to lean forward and she could kiss him.

  "My lord," came a voice from the open doorway.

  Elizabeth gave a shaky breath and slowly slipped her hands from Gideon's, who merely turned his head. "Yes?" he inquired with casual aplomb.

  Upon seeing his master on one knee before Elizabeth's chair, Frick averted his gaze to the level of the wainscoting around the library's perimeter. "Pardon me, my lord, but a coach-and-four has arrived. With baggage atop, sir."

  Gideon rose, tugging his waistcoat to assure its proper lie. "Visitors? Who are they?"

  "Master Benjamin and Master Sebastian."

  Elizabeth watched as first astonishment and then something unmistakably touched with pleasure raced across Gideon's face. "My brothers," he said in Elizabeth's general direction. To Frick he said, "Show them in as soon as they have shaken the dust of the road from their boots."

  "Show them in at once," a man, a darker-haired version of Gideon, said from the doorway.

  "There is more, my lord—" Frick attempted to interject, but he was cut off by a cry from the master of the house.

  "Sebastian!" Gideon shouted, smiling widely and striding at once across the room. The two men embraced, and then Elizabeth had a moment to observe that the other man was not as much like Gideon as she had first thought. He had the same squared jaw, but his face was longer, more narrow and sharp of feature. He was obviously younger, and even from across the room Elizabeth could see his eyes were a true blue, the color of the ocean on a fair day. His hair was also worn long and loose, brushing his shoulders, but it was decidedly brown, albeit a rich multicolored golden brown.

  Elizabeth just had time to form these thoughts when another brother appeared. Benjamin too was embraced by Gideon. This brother was somewhere between his siblings in hair coloring, although it was cut very short, no doubt to accommodate the military cap he carried under his arm. Being capless suited him, showing off hair that was a rich wheat color with a plentitude of sun-bleached streaks, resembling sunlight skirting shadows across a field. From his darker skin, too tanned for fashion, he obviously spent more time out of doors than did his siblings, which only made sense when one observed the Naval uniform he wore. Even from her seat, Elizabeth could see this man's eyes were never so pale as Gideon's, but neither so rich a blue as were the youngest brother's.

  Elizabeth saw that nature had used a different palette for each: the eldest as pale as a creature of the spirit world; the next painted with the colors of the heavens; and the youngest with the tones of the earth. She glanced among the three of them,

  marveling at the likenesses and the differences, but when her gaze rested on Gideon, she thought to herself that he was the most striking of the three.

  Gideon turned, obviously intending to make introductions, but Frick cleared his throat, looking with emphasis at the uniformed brother.

  "Ah yes, the girl," Benjamin said, tossing his cap onto the nearest table. "Bring her in."

  "Her?" Gideon questioned.

  "'Her,' indeed," Sebastian said. "We found the creature just outside the house, sitting among some recently destroyed ivy. She was moaning and mewling against a door Benjamin claims he knew was there, but which I surely did not."

  Frick and a footman brought a wild-eyed girl into the room, each of them holding one of her arms. Beneath the hem of the white night rail she wore showed two bare feet. Her long red hair was unbound as always, and had not been recently washed or combed.

  Elizabeth rose, the jewels in her lap dropping to the carpet to scatter at her feet. "Lily!"

  'This is Lily?" Gideon echoed, looking from one woman to the other.

  "She had this," said the footman Simons, holding forth the shawl-wrapped bundle Elizabeth had seen the girl carry, only now the pink skin of a scalp could be seen peeking out of the arrangement of shawls. Elizabeth began to move forward, despite her heel, noting the odd way Simons held the child, but at that moment he lost his grip, and the infant tumbled to the carpet. Lily screamed and lunged, almost breaking free of the restraining hands on her, even as Elizabeth cried out, and Gideon leaped forward, hands outstretched, but already too late.

  Amid a terrible silence Gideon reached down to the motionless child, but then he hesitated. A moment later everyone stared as he pushed aside the shawls and revealed upward-staring painted eyes.

  "It is but a doll!" Sebastian declared.

  Gideon stood upright, looking both shaken and annoyed, as Benjamin dema
nded, "Who is this girl?"

  Lily fought still against the restraining hands, a terrible gibbering sound of anguish issuing from her clenched teeth. A gesture from Gideon indicated the servants ought free her, and the moment they released her arms she lunged for the doll, scooping it up. Her moans instantly turned into a croon, a little comforting song against the doll's composite head.

  "Poor creature!" Elizabeth breathed. "She did not know what to do once the door in the ivy was locked to her. She must have felt utterly distraught." Elizabeth looked at Gideon. "Do you recall I said Lily was searching for fairies? I think that is why she has been leaving my jewels about, hoping to entice them to come. I feared the worst... but if this is her child ... ?" She shuddered, remembering the terrible thought she'd had that perhaps the girl had longed to trade a dead infant for a fairy's changeling.

  Lily ceased crooning, looking up, intensely staring at Elizabeth. "I want the fairies to come," the girl said in a small voice. She looked into all the faces in the room, and whatever she saw, her distress left her features. "I want the fairies to come," she said again. "I want them to make my baby alive, like it was."

  "You have a very nice baby there—" Elizabeth began.

  "But it needs to be alive again," Lily said, and she looked down into the painted face, her expression shifting once more, this time to terrible sadness. "Wake up, baby!" she cried on a rising note. She rocked the child with one arm, even as she covered her face with her other hand and began to sob. "Wake up, baby. I want the fairies to wake her up," she said between sobs.

  "Gideon!" Elizabeth cried, casting him a helpless look.

  "We must find her family. She will require comforting and care," he said at once, and his look confirmed Elizabeth's own feelings that the girl was harmless, but clearly out of her rightful mind. "Frick, until such time as we can locate someone to be responsible for her, take, er, Miss Lily to the kitchens and assign a couple of the maids to care for her. See if she'll eat or drink something. Something warm would be well. Simons, you and I will ride into the village. Perhaps Alderman Wallace will know who she is."

  "Very good, my lord," Frick said, taking the girl's arm firmly but not unkindly, and leading her from the room. Simons nodded at the instructions Gideon gave him, while Elizabeth bent to retrieve her fallen jewelry.

  When Gideon turned back to the occupants of the library, he moved at once to assist her. Elizabeth became aware of the silence that had fallen as Gideon's brothers stared at her, the jewels, and their brother working to hand the jewelry to this stranger among them.

  Gideon stood, dusting his hands and giving a small smile as Elizabeth placed her jewelry on the nearest table. His smile was meant to dispel the odd moment. "That girl, gentlemen," he said, "is our resident ghost, the very one who has taken our bits and pieces and left others for us to find these months past." He noted the comprehension that dawned in his brothers' faces and shook his head. "I cannot think why the girl ever decided the fairies live in my house."

  "By Jove!" Sebastian gave a lopsided grin, crossing to put a hand on Benjamin's uniformed shoulder. "It would seem the house has turned to Bedlam since we left it!" he declared.

  Any sign of amusement vanished from Gideon's features.

  "I mean to say, brother dearest," Sebastian went on with a laugh, "first we find the old bricks are being painted over in a cheerful white, which was enough to startle our horses in their traces, I vow. They did not know the place! Next we see that our sober and serious brother has donned a waistcoat with some actual dash about it! If these are not oddities enough, we discovered a simple-minded female gathering wool amid the ivy—"

  "And have had no time for introductions to our present company," Benjamin interrupted with a shade of impatience, looking pointedly at Elizabeth.

  "The most charming surprise of all," Sebastian agreed.

  The scowl dissipated from Gideon's features, and he turned slightly to glance at Elizabeth. "Elizabeth, these two rogues are my brothers, Benjamin and Sebastian."

  "We already make free with our Christian names?" Benjamin asked, not smiling. Sebastian, on the other hand, made his eyebrows dance over his sea blue eyes, and Elizabeth thought Gideon's title of "rogue" suited this fellow admirably.

  "Christian names are all we have, in this instance," Gideon said glibly. "Benjamin, Sebastian, this is Miss Elizabeth. Her surname is unknown. She has been injured recently and has been unable to supply us with a surname. She has been convalescing here this past week or so."

  "Miss Elizabeth." Sebastian greeted her with a little bow, as did Benjamin.

  Upon straightening, Sebastian slipped with negligent grace onto a settee, but his eyes were wide as though with fascination. "There you are, Brother Ben! I told you something was astir. I told you Gideon's letters were peculiar."

  "Peculiar?" Gideon frowned again.

  " 'Chatty' is the word I should use," Sebastian said, grinning at Elizabeth when she gave him a quizzical look. "Perhaps there is a better word, but since I have never before received a chatty letter from you, Gideon"—he belatedly looked toward the object of discussion—"I am new to the experience and do not know what to call it."

  "I can see you are in a mood for sport," Gideon said, grimacing. "But I, alas, at present do not have the time for it. I have an alderman to call upon, who I hope can afford me some answers. I am anxious to know why you two have come from afar, but my curiosity will have to wait." Gideon turned to Elizabeth. "May I carry you to your room before I leave?"

  "No, thank you. I would like to hear what you have to say when you return," Elizabeth said, looking up at him from under her lashes, feeling abashed by the startled look Benjamin had thrown his brother upon hearing the word "carry."

  Gideon either missed the look, or else did not consider any need to explain, because he bowed to Elizabeth and moved to the library door. There he turned. "Elizabeth is my guest, gentlemen. Please mind your manners." With a scalding glance at his brothers, Gideon exited.

  Elizabeth looked to the two other occupants of the room. Benjamin lifted an eyebrow in disapproval, and Sebastian grinned widely.

  "So, you are 'Elizabeth the house guest,' of whom Gideon wrote."

  "House guest?" Elizabeth repeated, unsure why Sebastian found her role so amusing.

  "Come now," Benjamin said, rotating in a crisp military turn to face Elizabeth. "Tell us what happens here? That is to say, what are you to Gideon?"

  "He means," Sebastian said with a wicked gleam in his eyes, "are you the cause of our brother's sudden aberrant behavior?"

  "Aberrant?" Elizabeth began to sputter out a confused protest, but Sebastian interrupted her.

  "Let me see if I can put it more politely. How about, what magic have you worked to change Gideon so?"

  "Magic?"

  "We will get nowhere if you repeat everything I say," Sebastian quipped.

  "Come, come, Miss Elizabeth," Benjamin said, taking the chair opposite hers and running a hand down his uniform front to rid it of any subsequent creases. "We tell you freely, we came home because Gideon had sent each of us a letter—"

  "A letter about the chess games?" Elizabeth inquired.

  "Yes, only these were different. It was evident that something was altered—significantly."

  "You have to understand," Sebastian explained, "Gideon's letters are usually three sentences long. They read: 'Queen's Rook to Rook Four. Lost the wheat crop on the lower twenty acres. Frick has the toothache.' And that is all they say, Miss Elizabeth. But these letters we each just received were suddenly three pages long, full of bits and pieces of news, such as some maid or other had a girl child—"

  "I still cannot approve of Gideon taking in a servant who is in the family way," Benjamin interrupted. "It is one thing to see to one's own, er, discrepancies, but taking in a girl already in a family way from another household, without references ... ! It is undignified. Not to mention the mother will no doubt expect Gideon to grant the brat employment when he is old enough to
hold a horse."

  "She. The baby is a girl," Elizabeth corrected, her lips threatening to tilt upward in happy surprise to learn the child was not Gideon's. It was silly of her to feel so blithe of a sudden, but Elizabeth had to bite back a smile.

  "Never mind that. I was talking about Gideon's letter," Sebastian said, angling his head as he recomposed his thoughts.

  "Ah, yes, Gideon also wrote of the ghost that has been active again, and how his favorite hunter has recovered from taking a stone under its shoe, and, well anyway, he just went on and on."

  "And at the end of my letter—" Benjamin began.

  "Not mine, I am piqued to say," Sebastian put in.

  "At the end of my letter, which I felt compelled to share with Sebastian here," Benjamin went on pointedly, "there was mention of a house guest named Elizabeth. Gideon wrote of how this female, of whom he offered no proper title or surname, had had her things taken, some jewels or other."

  "I ask you, who would not be intrigued?" Sebastian asked, spreading his hands as though seeking Elizabeth's affirmation.

  Elizabeth gazed from one to the other, seeing the coolness in their faces, even under Sebastian's impudent manner. She sighed, knowing what they must be thinking. "I can scarce blame you for wondering if I am hunting a fortune."

  Sebastian inclined his head in acknowledgment, but Benjamin just stared hard at her. "Well, are you?" he asked without polish.

  "Gentlemen," she said, laying a hand atop her jewelry on the table. "This is all the fortune I have. I brought the pieces with me, and I shall leave with them and nothing else, be assured." She paused, "Well, that is not quite true, for I am to have three dresses, for which I will one day repay your brother."

  She saw their doubt and put up her chin. She boldly lifted the hem of her skirt, exposing the bandages that yet wound around her foot. "My heel was badly injured. Now it is better, and I am free to leave. I promise you, I would not take anything else, not even were it offered to me."