The Honorable Marksley

by Sherry Lynn Ferguson

  “Now, m’dear,” he drawled, “I wish you happy.”

  “Happy? Jeremy, I am afraid that is most improbable.”

  “You cannot love him?”

  Hallie knew she was blushing, but had no control over her color. Instead she collapsed upon the nearest sofa and gazed beseechingly at him.

  “Perhaps,” Jeremy said slowly, “I should rephrase. Do you love him?”

  Hallie’s fingers tensed against the upholstered cushions.

  “God help me,” she whispered.

  Jeremy ceased playing with his quizzing glass and smiled at her. “I shall take that as an affirmative,” he remarked dryly. “And I am encouraged. You might trust your heart in this, Hallie. And Richard. He is an excellent man” As he noted her anxiety, his smile faded. “I fail to understand the obstacle,” he said, sounding for the moment every inch a duke’s son.

  “There is a major obstacle. In Henry Beecham.”

  Jeremy reached to toss some crumb of food into his mouth before responding. “‘Tis true that Richard seems distraught about that ingrate’s behavior. He would have it that Beecham’s duplicity in sending work elsewhere has contributed to the decision to forsake The Tantalus. A very unfortunate slip, my dear. You shall have to set things to rights.”

  “Yes, I know. Only … was he very angry?”

  “Angry? I shouldn’t say so. Rather intensely disappointed, disheartened, tricked, betrayed, deceived, duped, gulled, hoodwinked-”

  “Thank you, Jeremy,” Hallie said quickly. “I understand you. I just must think what is best to do next”

  “Do not puzzle too long, Hallie. As a concerned observer, I must tell you that your maneuverings to date have proved disastrous.” He pulled a wad of bank notes from his waistcoat pocket and handed the funds to her. “There is enough there for passage most anywhere worth going, if you should so choose. I had Partridge ask for tenners, to avoid arousing suspicion. Women rarely carry so much blunt, as you know only too well. You may wish to count it.”

  “You are too cruel, Jeremy” She swallowed. “You know how grateful I am”

  “I suppose I should apologize for dawdling about it,” he said blandly.

  “That would be preposterous. You must know I never intended to take so much of your time, to send you scouring half the country. I can never repay you and I … I am ashamed” She looked down at her lap. “How is George?”

  “Settled in nicely with his Romanies. This group is only five miles or so away from you, the other side of the Downs. He was most amenable to posing as Beecham, never asked me for an explanation beyond your need of the funds. A most obliging fellow. I might hope that some fair day you will trouble to thank him.”

  “You know I shall, Jeremy. You have both been very good to me”

  He considered her for a moment.

  “I must go now, Hallie. I am retreating to the Threepenny Arms. I cannot bear to watch my two good friends engage in such insupportable farce”

  “I understand. One way or another I promise I shall make amends. As part of that,” she reached for her journal, “would you kindly post this when you return to London” She pulled the sealed poem from the pages. “Only … only with your regular letters,” she added, aware of imposing on him again. “‘Twould perhaps reassure him that Beecham never left him-that is, never left The Tantalus.”

  Jeremy took the missive and read its direction. He tapped it against one palm.

  “‘Tis just another poem,” Hallie explained.

  “I see.” He continued to tap the envelope, then said coldly, “Hallie this must stop.”

  “It will stop. But it must be satisfactory. I would rather he kept The Tantalus than that I should keep … that I should-Oh, Jeremy! I thought to keep Beecham, but I grasped at more. And now, I have lost myself.”

  “You have lost nothing, Hallie, except your heart. It is not such an unusual item to lose.”

  “Except … you must tell me. Did he love Caroline Chalmers very much?”

  Jeremy studied her.

  “I should imagine not,” he said casually, slipping the poem into his waistcoat pocket. “I have observed Richard in love.”

  Hallie absorbed that in silence.

  “Well then,” she managed, “I had thought to stay and perhaps retain a friendship. But if he should never forgive-”

  Jeremy took her hand and lightly squeezed her fingers.

  “You should be kinder to yourself, my dear,” he suggested softly. “You are his wife. Richard is unlikely to realize there is anything to forgive.” With a last, warm press of her hand he departed.

  Hallie held the bank notes close to her skirts and fled upstairs to her room. She placed her journal at her bedside, then went directly to the writing desk and pushed the money to the back of a drawer. When she moved to the washstand, her face in the glass looked rosy and excited.

  You are his wife, Jeremy had said. Was he correct to believe she was unkind to herself? Perhaps the years with her uncle and Millicent had trained her too thoroughly, that she should now believe she deserved so little.

  She could not find the prospect so undesirable after all-to be mistress at Archers. To be countess at Penham. But there she suffered a qualm. For though she had discovered how dearly she wanted the first, she was not at all certain she wanted the last. There was much more to this than being a wife….

  She took her time changing for supper, dispensing with an offer of help from one of the maids. When the first bell sounded, she went down, making an effort at composure, yet as she neared the dining room, Richard Marksley stepped from the library. They halted, glances locking, and Hallie knew she could not move unless he willed it. She at last breathed easily when he walked toward her.

  “You shall put me to the blush, my dear, with your punctuality. The lady of the house must always take whatever time she requires-not that you would need it.” He inclined his head, acknowledging that she must not have looked as anxious as she felt.

  “I … find myself quite famished,” she said, preceding him quickly into the dining room.

  “And no wonder,” he countered as Thomas held the chair for her. Her place was set to Marksley’s left. “You missed dinner, if Mrs. Hepple’s information is accurate. You must realize that the household is most anxious to please their lady. How is it possible for them to impress you if you do not eat or place any demands upon them?” He smiled.

  “I am not used to being waited upon, my lord. My uncle’s household in Tewsbury consists of three: chef, housemaid, and one manservant. I did not have an abigail, nor were there other personal servants”

  “I cannot believe you intimidated by the prospect of commanding even so much as an army, my dear. But you have not attempted to explain a lack of appetite.”

  “I … cannot explain it.”

  For a moment he merely looked at her, his dark eyes thoughtful. Then he turned his attention to the first course. Hallie followed his example and took a few bites of fish.

  “I have not tried this before-” he said, smiling almost shyly. “That is, I have not tried marriage before, so I hope you will forgive me in advance for the many failings I doubtless will exhibit, at least within these first few weeks. After that … well, perhaps you must devise penalties.”

  “You are not the only one new to marriage, my lord. It is not something one practices.”

  “No. Though I gather that women are, from an early age, trained in some of the finer arts that ease its workings, whereas men are not”

  “Every couple must be unique, my lord,” she offered softly. “I understand a certain mutual respect is a place to start”

  “Then may I request-again-that you respect my wish that you call me Richard?”

  “Yes, of course, my … Richard.” Something about his regard made her uneasy. As she turned her attention once more to the meal, she questioned whether their acquaintance might not have been rather special had it not been rooted in deceit.

  “‘Tis a shame,” he said, �
�that Lord Jeremy could not stay longer. I believe he felt himself an intruder.”

  “I have only ever known him to be an infrequent and temporary visitor,” Hallie said. “Much like his capricious favorites, the butterflies.”

  “Capricious,” Marksley repeated, fastening on the word. “Yet he is your fondest admirer.”

  “Is he?”

  Marksley smiled and bowed his head to her.

  “My lady correctly notes that on this our honeymoon, I am her fondest admirer. Let me say then that Jeremy is a loyal and fervent admirer.”

  “You exaggerate, my lord.”

  “If you so easily doubt my judgment, I dare not tell you how lovely you look tonight, Hallie.”

  Again an unwelcome warmth stole into her cheeks. “You need not..

  “No,” he agreed shortly. “I know I need not. I say that to you because it is true, and because it gives me pleasure. I have no desire to spend our days denying either truth or my own pleasure. `Twould be abhorrent.” He looked determined.

  The footman, oblivious to any tension at the table, quickly removed their dishes and started to serve the soup. When Gibbs unexpectedly entered the room, Marksley motioned him to the side of the table.

  “Pardon me, my lord. I have news of Mr. Beecham,” the butler said.

  The spoon with which Hallie had been playing slipped from her grasp, striking the edge of a plate with a clatter.

  “Of what nature?” Marksley asked.

  “A runner from your bank in London has just delivered this, my lord” He handed a small card to Marksley, who quickly scanned its message.

  “My letters of credit to Beecham were presented and honored two days ago in the City, to their full amount,” Marksley explained as he read. For a moment he fell silent. Then he said wearily, “Thank you, Gibbs.”

  Hallie surreptitiously studied her husband’s face as she sipped broth. Jeremy had relayed Marksley’s sense of betrayal, his belief in the poet’s desertion, and that description seemed too painfully accurate. Marksley had to be interpreting Beecham’s exchange as a termination. But his thoughts were apparently far from the subject of Henry Beecham.

  “You shall not lack for employment, Hallie, should you choose it. This community could use your wisdom and imagination in whatever capacity you, as Viscountess Langsford, might find congenial. I fear my aunt and uncle have been remiss with regard to certain responsibilities of station, particularly here in the country. I should like to do better.”

  Hallie essayed a smile.

  “And you shall find no dearth of companionship or entertainment. Mrs. Lawes and Mrs. Mayhew will be most anxious to introduce you to a wide circle of acquaintances. The stable and garden here at Archers, indeed, the entire household at Penham as well, are at your disposal. Denhurst is a small but lively communi ty. And the countryside is appealing.” He mused a moment. “I think we must get you a horse”

  Even as he listed all these potential pursuits, Hallie sensed his distraction.

  “You sound fond of Denhurst … Richard.”

  He summoned a smile as he glanced at her. “I am. It is my home. I hope you will also come to care for it. But you need not resign yourself to the country. I must of necessity spend some portion of time in London. Perhaps we shall go up in February or March. There is a house at Berkeley Square, which you will, naturally, be free to adorn and rearrange as you choose.”

  “I am … overwhelmed” She did indeed feel overwhelmed, if not a little desperate. As he went on to describe the many lively attractions in London, the life Richard Marksley sketched sounded increasingly busy, comfortable-and empty. Just where did he intend to be as she “adorned” the town house and sampled the ton’s offerings? She found she had little appetite for the minted lamb that comprised the main course. But conscious of her husband’s gaze upon her, Hallie made an effort to eat.

  “I have not asked if you play an instrument,” Marksley said. “The piano in the parlor was my mother’s. I would be pleased if you would consider it your own.”

  “I thank you. I fear I play only passably. But I shall be delighted to attempt improvement. Do you have any of your mother’s music?”

  “Some, I believe. I kept many of her things.” He fingered his wineglass. “She was a talented and courageous woman, though never physically strong. My father would have been lost without her, as she was without him. I realized even as a child that their passing so closely together was a mercy for them”

  “You miss them still.”

  “I do” Marksley looked up to meet her gaze. “Not the least for the selfish reason that I believe I should have been a better person for their company”

  You are a fine person now, Hallie observed silently. For a moment she pushed the food about on her plate. Then she placed her serviette on the table and rose. “I am a bit chilled. I shall just return to my room for my shawl”

  He looked astonished as he also rose. “‘Tis simple enough to send Thomas or one of the maids for the shawl, my dear. You need not trouble yourself.”

  “The brief exercise will warm me,” she insisted, even as she backed away from the table. “And as I mentioned, I am used to seeing to myself.”

  “This once, then, Hallie. And please come join me for coffee in the library when you are ready. There are some items I would like to show you.”

  Hallie nodded and fled into the hall.

  She had been mad-mad-to think that she could go on like this, day after day, and keep her secret intact. She reached her room and found her unnecessary shawl. She had wanted only the break from polite con straint. Again she looked in the mirror and drew a deep breath. How to tell him-how to tell him? She could not decide. But it must be now.

  As she reached the lower steps to the hall, Marksley was just exiting the dining room. He noted her flushed cheeks.

  “There was no need to race, Hallie. At this rate, Gibbs might be tempted to back you at Epsom.” She thought she heard a quickly shushed laugh from the dining room. “Would you now care for something more refreshing than coffee?”

  Hallie met his smile with a tentative one of her own. “I still prefer coffee, thank you”

  Marksley extended a hand to her as she descended the stairs. When his hand grasped hers the immediate warmth of the contact startled her. Before she could stumble, Marksley’s arm clasped her waist.

  “Careful,” he said softly.

  He practically lifted her from the last step. Hallie could scarcely breathe. She backed from him quickly and made a futile effort to arrange her shawl.

  “Allow me” He took the garment from her suddenly clumsy hands and draped it across her shoulders, his fingers teasing the curls at her nape as he positioned the soft wool.

  “I am surprised you have need of it, Hallie, as warm as you are.” He must not have felt her shiver or he had known it was not due to cold. For an instant, his dark glance met hers. Holding his gaze, she thought it likely she would forget everything Miss Binkin had told her.

  His palm at the small of her back urged her forward, else every piece of her would have turned to him again.

  She led the way into the library, a room she had not entered since her initial meeting with him less than three weeks before. Yet it had been an age, she thought, and resolutely took a seat by the fire.

  Marksley walked over to his desk. “I wanted you to see where we are located-at Archers, Penham, Denhurst-and to see where I believe your gypsy band is camped” He pulled some documents from a drawer as he spoke and now stood with them in one hand. “Then, since you know horses, I thought you might also like a look at the plans for Penham’s new paddocks-”

  Gibbs had knocked on the open door and entered the room with the coffee tray. Beecham’s letter to Marksley was propped against the silver service.

  Jeremy! Hallie raged, instantly, silently. She sat forward in her chair.

  “What the devil-?” Marksley muttered. He placed his documents slowly upon the desk and reached for the folded note. He handled
it carefully for a second, as though it were a live thing that might suddenly take flight.

  “Gibbs”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “This letter-did it arrive with the runner from the bank, from London?”

  Gibbs, pouring out the coffee, glanced at the document as though it had committed some unforgivable trespass.

  “No, my lord. ‘Twas left in the drawing room, on the mantel. No one reported its arrival. I know you are most particular about such matters”

  “Yes, Gibbs. Indeed. But how did it get here? ‘Twas not posted. No one has been in the drawing room today, surely?”

  “A maid would have pulled the drapes, my lord, and just now Thomas entered to prepare for the coffee, before I directed him to the library.”

  “Send both of them in to me, if you would please, Gibbs.”

  When the butler departed Marksley turned to test the latches on the French doors to the garden. Then he faced Hallie, his manner distracted.

  “I beg your pardon, my dear. An unexpected matter … Your coffee..

  “I have no need of it.” Hallie moved to rise. “Richard-”

  “No, do not leave me, Hallie. I shall join you in just a minute. Ah, Thomas, Mary.” Thomas bowed as Mary curtsied. “Did either of you notice whether the drawing room doors were open to the garden earlier?”

  “No, milord,” they chimed. “They was locked,” Mary added.

  “Nor whether this letter was on the mantel when you were in earlier today?”

  “I didna see it when I was pullin’ at the drapes,” Mary said, “Mighta been-”

  “Only caught my eye on the mantel just now, milord. Can’t say as I would notice one more paper in the usual way,” Thomas offered candidly.

  “Just so,” Marksley observed, with a rueful glance at his paper-strewn desk. “Did either of you observe a stranger about the grounds this evening before supper?”

  “There was of Clem Tarkenton down the lane, repairing the tinwares an’ such,” Mary said. “But he’s never come up near the house afore, on account o’ his dogs bein’ so sporty after Mrs. Hepple’s chickens.”

  “I see. Thank you, Mary. And you as well, Thomas. You may go”