The Hired Wife

by Cari Hislop

  “What if she can’t come tomorrow?”

  “She’ll wish she had.” The housekeeper rolled her eyes and disappeared as Marshall turned his attention back to his wife. She was sitting upright, hatless and staring at the large tray of food. “Eat!”

  She looked up at him her eyes filled with gratitude. “Thank you.”

  “I can’t hear you.” He watched her silently say grace and then had to jump up and grab the shaking teapot out of her hands and pour her cup himself.

  …

  Mary wanted to shove handfuls of food in her mouth, but she forced herself to take small ladylike bites, chew and swallow politely for her audience. His eyes followed her every move. After three sandwiches, two pieces of cake, four slices of ham and two cups of tea she sat back and returned the compliment. There was a pleasant elasticity about his lips that hinted he might smile any minute. His brown hair looked like old thatch off a country cottage, but his body was a collection of well proportioned limbs wrapped with muscle and attached to a strong torso. His lips curled into a smile as he shook with silent laughter. “Do you find your new husband attractive?” If she told him the truth would he carry her back to the Bishop and have her future meals annulled? She slowly shook her head causing the smile to twist into a frown. “Well you’re no beauty either Mrs Godfrey.” She shrugged her shoulders; she was his servant. What did it matter? Her eyelids drooped, until they stuck together in sleep. She awoke half way up the stairs. “Don’t scream or I’ll drop you.” Her stomach was full. She was too comfortable to worry about being held in a stranger’s arms. Pressing her face into his shoulder she fell back to sleep.

  Marshall laid his hired wife on her bed and stood looking down at the thin woman. There was something about her that made his toes curl with expectation as if he was about to peel a sweet Christmas orange. He shook his head at the strange feeling and removed her worn shoes. Unpinning her hair, he pulled it down over her shoulders. It fell heavy and straight, following the curves of her body like golden honey. She looked like a starving mermaid. He covered her up and closed the curtains. He’d know soon enough if he’d regret his impulsive choice.

  Chapter 2

  “Is she awake yet? Don’t stand there shaking your head at me. Go check again and don’t think I can’t tell whether you’ve gone all the way up the stairs or not either.” The lady’s maid rolled her eyes as she climbed the stairs for the tenth time that hour and quietly opened the door. The lump of bedclothes hadn’t moved; feeling brave the maid stepped over to the windows and pulled the curtains open letting in the sun.

  “Where am I?”

  “In your room my Lady.”

  “My lady? Oh yes…is that the time?”

  “Yes, it’s gone eleven my Lady.”

  “Good heavens!” Mary sat up and steadied herself. “What will he think of me? I need to wash. I need to get ready. Where are my clothes?”

  “The master sold them to the ragman. He’s most particular.”

  “He sold my clothes to a ragman? All of them?”

  “Everything except what you’re wearing my Lady. He thought you’d find it distressing to wake up naked.” Mary felt her cheeks glow bright red at the thought and quickly removed her dress so she could wash her face. Feeling refreshed, she was sitting in her thick flannel chemise having her hair combed when the door burst open.

  “Ah, you’re awake!” Mary opened her eyes in shock and tried to cover her chest with her arms. “Don’t be missish; I’ve seen ladies wear less to the opera.”

  “They were probably ladies of easy virtue.”

  Her new master scowled. “Do you wish to repeat that into my ear Madam?”

  Mary shook her head. “I thought not.” Folding his arms, her employer sat on the edge of her dressing table causing it to groan. She was so hungry she was delusional; those blue eyes couldn’t be admiring her. “Is your room satisfactory Wife? Do you require anything?” He leaned forward and put his ear near her lips.

  “I think I’ll need a screen to bathe behind and a sign for my door requesting privacy.”

  Her new lord barked out a laugh and sat back with an impish grin. “Does this mean you don’t wish me to help you scrub up my Lady?” He smiled as she blushed and looked away. “Her hair is combed enough; tell the kitchen to start heating water for my wife’s bath. Wait downstairs for the needle-witch. Bring up the coven as soon as they arrive.” He waited till the door was shut and then reached into his pocket. “Stand up!” She hesitated. “You promised to obey me. Stand up and hold out your left hand.” He removed the gold band and slipped it into his pocket. “One of these should fit.” His hand opened like a pirate’s chest, glinting with unexpected treasure. “Try them on.”

  Mary sighed in defeat as she took both her hands off her chest and obeyed the insistent command. “I like this one the best…” She picked up the glowing sapphire a second time.

  “Talk into my ear woman and don’t shout.”

  “This one fits…and it’s…” She played the blue stone in the sunlight and forgot her state of undress. “…it’s lovely…” She held her hand up next to his face. “…and the same colour as your eyes.” Staring into the living gems she felt a strange wave of pleasure burst into her veins. She wasn’t aware that he’d taken hold of her raised hand until he brought it to his lips causing shivers of pleasure.

  “So I’m not unattractive after all…I confess you looked quite unappealing yesterday, but I suspect it was an illusion caused by a magic spell to blind me to your charms. This morning you resemble a half starved mermaid. I’ll have to remember not to take you anywhere near the ocean.”

  Mary’s face cheeks threatened to catch fire as she stared into laughing sapphires. “I’ve never been to the ocean; but my mother was Dutch.”

  “Humph! Your mother wasn’t Dutch, she was a mermaid. Your father must have caught her on the shore and bound her to the land.”

  “I’d love to visit the seashore. I understand it’s quite magical.”

  “We might arrange a visit this summer if you promise not to go near the water. I believe I’m going to enjoy having you haunt my elbow.” As he kissed her hand again the door opened and a crowd of women spilled into the room carrying boxes and baskets. He turned towards the door and barked, “You’re late!” Mary wasn’t sure where to look. Nothing in her life had prepared her to stand undressed in a room full of strangers one of them a man holding her hand. The Modiste put one hand on her hip and motioned with the other for her husband to leave.

  Marshall pulled Mary into the middle of the room and glared at the dressmaker. “I don’t want anything unseemly. I won’t have my wife looking like an orange seller in some red rag! I want to see her in rich browns and ivory. I want balls gowns in yellows like honey. I want her to have a buff Spencer in a yellow bone and make sure my wife’s charms are not displayed for every drunken Lord with an eyeglass.”

  The middle-aged woman leaned into Lord Raynham’s face and shouted in return. “I’ve heard the lecture; I know what you don’t want. Now get out and leave us in peace.”

  “If I don’t like what you stitch, I won’t pay for it.”

  “You’ll pay, and you’ll like it because if you don’t I won’t come back. Now get out and stop fussing like a girl with a naked doll.”

  “Needle-witch!”

  “Slave-master!” Marshall glanced at his wide eyed bride and back to the seamstress.

  “Be gentle with her…”

  “If I whip anyone with my measuring ribbon it’ll be you.”

  “And don’t leave bills without my approval.”

  “Out!” Mary was released as the man was pushed out the door. Rubbing her hands the Modiste called her assistants to gather around their latest challenge. They chattered half in English, half in some incomprehensible dialect for a few minutes before completely removing Mary’s modesty. Her patched shift was pulled over her head; her anatomy inspected, analysed and measured. After an eternal hellish hour and a half of b
eing measured and bathed; a new soft silk chemise was dropped over her clean wet hair and her nakedness was once again covered. Half finished garments turned inside out were pinned to fit her, fabric was draped and hat styles were tried as most of the group stitched and chattered madly in the background. At the end of five hours Mary’s slight charms were secured by soft stays and her petticoat hidden under a simple Indian muslin morning gown with dark blue diamonds woven into an icy greenish blue. White silk stockings with pretty blue clocks up the ankles were encased in black leather soled slippers.

  “I’m stunned…how did you do this in one afternoon?”

  “We’re not called a coven of needle-witches for nothing. We’ll complete another two gowns for you today and send more tomorrow. Off you go, the slave-master will be dying to see you. I think he’ll be quite pleased if I do say so.” Mary was dismissed from her own bedchamber. She closed the door on the frantic sewers and slowly descended the stairs into the narrow empty entry hall with an open door off to the left. She put her head in and recognising the study stepped inside to investigate a tapping sound. Her new husband was sitting behind a mahogany desk staring into space tapping a pen knife against the wood in dejected torment.

  Marshall looked up on feeling vibrations from the closing door and jumped to his feet.

  A water nymph floated to his side, touched his shoulder and spoke into his ear. “I’m hungry. Do you mind if I eat before I start working?”

  “Didn’t Green bring you something to eat? Servants!” He stormed out of the study and shouted down the hall. “Green, where are you? Do I have to give you hourly instructions? My wife hasn’t eaten. Why didn’t you send her a tray?”

  “She didn’t ask…how should…can’t read…thoughts!”

  “Get my wife some food before she starves to death. Blasted servants, what do I pay you for? You’re supposed to serve, not stand around picking your noses. I want toast and eggs in front of my wife in five minutes.” He stomped back into the study and slammed the door. “They’re either imbeciles or they enjoy vexing me. Sit down, that’s your chair, yes the one next to mine.” Shaking his head, he sat down and eyed his bride. Forgetting his servants, his lips slid into a smile as his eyes glinted with approval. “I see the needle-witch has turned you into a lady, but you were even more enchanting in your ancient shift.”

  “Must you say things you know will mortify me my Lord?”

  “My name is Marshall. I can’t stand being addressed as if I were some sort of God. I’m a man, just like the footman though hopefully not as stupid.”

  Having distracted her husband from her underclothes she relaxed. “What will be my duties today Marshall?”

  “I want you to…” Mrs. Green entered with the tray, set it firmly on the desk in front of Mary and slammed the door behind her. “Blasted servants…” He jumped out of his chair and jerked open the door to the hall. “Next time I might be making love to my wife who has perfect hearing, so use that ham fist of yours on the door before entering or I’ll find a new housekeeper.”

  “She wouldn’t last five minutes with your shouting and tantrums; you’d beg me back on your knees.”

  “Stop mouthing me and get back to work.” He slammed the door and turned around. “What are you shaking your head at Wife? Eat your food!” Mary felt her insides drop as he walked to the window. She’d hurt his feelings. The strong blue coated shoulders slumped as if he was losing an inner battle. The booming declaration that he might be found making love to his wife which had initially embarrassed her, now made her sad. How many women had rejected him? Looking at the angry back, it was easy to believe quite a few. She finished her plate and hurried out of the room with the tray.

  …

  Marshall turned back around to find his study as empty as his heart. Gulping down frustrated tears he battled the old torments back into their cages. Life wasn’t faire, but it might have been worse. Just because he didn’t have a laughing wife in his arms who looked up at him with adoration didn’t mean he was unloved. His father, mother and step mother had loved him. His two young sisters loved him, but he was a man he wanted more. He wanted a loving helpmeet. He hoped the short interlude with a hired wife would help him understand women. There had to be one woman in England who could see that he was at heart good and kind. It wasn’t his fault people didn’t make any sense. He couldn’t even ask for a small change to his usual breakfast without ending up in a brawl with the cook and footman. He slumped into his chair and was about to shout for his wife to return when she stepped into the room and resumed her seat.

  “Where have you been?”

  Mary didn’t bother to reply until he’d sat down beside her.

  “I took my tray to the kitchen and thanked Cook. The eggs were perfect.”

  “Ladies do not thank their cook for poaching an egg.”

  “Perhaps if they did, their households would run more smoothly. If I think something good I try to share it.”

  “And if you think something bad?”

  “I keep it to myself.”

  “How quaint; you needn’t put on an angel act for my benefit Merry Dunne. Fulfil the position’s requirements and I’ll keep you on, fall short and I’ll sack you.”

  Mary stared into angry hurt eyes only three inches from her own and forced herself to silently swallow her own bruised feelings; she was a servant paid to do a job. Lowering her eyes, she stared at his blue waistcoat. “How may I serve you?”

  Marshall looked at Mary from the corner of his eyes. An uneasy sensation in his stomach told him he’d hurt her. He pulled a thin book out of his pocket and found the page he wanted. “Read to me.”

  She rested the book against his shoulder and started reading. “She walks in beauty like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies…”

  “You call that reading? Start over and don’t run all the words together.”

  “I’ve never read Byron before.”

  “Give it here!

  She walks in beauty, like the night

  Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

  And all that’s best of dark and bright

  Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

  Thus mellow’d to that tender light

  Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

  One shade the more, one ray the less,

  Had half impair’d the nameless grace

  Which waves in every raven tress,

  Or softly lightens o’er her face;

  Where thoughts serenely sweet express

  How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

  And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,

  So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

  The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

  But tell of days in goodness spent,

  A mind at peace with all below,

  A heart whose love is innocent!”

  “You read that beautifully.”

  “So your husband’s done something good has he?” The words were heavy with sarcasm.

  “I’m sure you do many good things Marshall.”

  “But you still think me a cruel heartless bastard. I’m not blind woman; I saw the way you looked at me.”

  “I’m your servant; my feelings are insignificant.”

  Strong fingers took hold of her chin and gently tipped back her head, forcing her to look into angry sapphires. “Until I annul our marriage, you are Lady Raynham.” The words were a booming hiss. “You’ll tell me if you’re unhappy with me and explain why. I won’t have my peace cut up by a morose female moping at my shoulder thinking ill thoughts of me from dusk to dawn…well? Why did you give me that look?”

  “I was being honest and you sneered at me. If your intention was to make me feel uncomfortable then you succeeded. If you don’t think I’ll be adequate then have pity and annul my employment before I start deluding myself that I have a year of meals to look forward to. I can’t serve you if I have an axe hanging over…”