The Hired Wife

by Cari Hislop

  “Well Henry, you’re a tiresome rakehell. If you had a few morals you might find that elusive state of happiness.”

  “He wants to know which immoral activities he may participate in and still be allowed into your version of heaven. Lady Morley is insisting her son is perfect the way he is. Cecil Smirke poses the question that if Lord Morley is perfect the way he is, then why does she hate his uncle John Smirke, because there can’t be much difference between them. She says she’s never been so insulted. Her son is nothing like John Smirke who will rot in the deepest pit of hell…etc. Cecil disagrees; he says his uncle is reformed, that he’ll do anything to get to heaven even if he dies of boredom. Lady Morley says if John Smirke dares try to sneak through Heaven’s gate she’ll defend the portal herself. Cosmo Smirke is wagering his brother a pound that Lady Morley won’t get into heaven while Robert Smirke wants to know if people think there will be cheese in heaven. Lady Morley wants to know how Bucky could be so careless of his sisters reputations as to invite Smirkes into the house, but Bucky’s become deaf to anyone but Emily… George Smirke wants to know why Lady Morley hates all Smirkes, but she’s changed the subject to the lake.”

  Mary took a deep breath and leaned back toward her bowl, but was horrified to find it had been removed and replaced with an empty plate for the next course. An eternity later she was smiling at two thick pieces of ham and several boiled potatoes. Picking up her knife and fork she got as far as carving off a small piece of ham and putting it to her mouth before Marshall was demanding to hear what people were saying. She managed two more bites of ham before her plate was taken away for the next course as her hungry stomach rumbled in despair. She continued to relay the various conversations in between the rare mouthful until dinner finished and reluctantly stood to withdraw with the ladies. Buckingham invited his male guests to remain at table if they wished to drink his port, but he was honour bound to accompany Emily.

  Marshall stood as well feeling happy that he’d been able to properly participate for the first time in years in a dinner party conversation. His stomach filled, all he could think of was shutting a door on the world and kissing his wife. The busy morning schedule hadn’t allowed time for more than a brief peck on the cheek. He needed to hold his wife in private. His offered arm was quickly accepted and his quick pace matched as he hurried her away from the company.

  Half way up the stairs Mary felt the world start to spin. She was only half conscious of being caught by strong warm arms and pulled tightly up against Marshall’s chest before his bellowing roar for help rumbled her cheek, “Merry? Can you hear me? Are you ill? Why didn’t you say you were ill? Someone help me.”

  “I’m hungry…”

  “What? I can’t hear you.”

  “Hungry…”

  “Well why didn’t you eat your dinner? Are you trying to give me a heart failure? You nearly fell down the stairs…finally a servant…bring us tea and some toast…”

  “With butter…”

  “Toast with butter and some cake and…”

  “Some ham…”

  “My wife needs some food…hurry man!” Marshall heaved Mary into his arms and carried her to his bedchamber door. Seeing a young woman hovering in the shadows he shouted for help, “Come open this blasted door, my wife is unwell.” Marshall couldn’t hear the rustle of silk as the timid young lady reluctantly complied. Pushing the door open she watched from the doorway as the large plain man gently sat his wife in a chair, kneeled next to her and started rubbing her hands. Comfortable with being forgotten she was amazed that such a frightening roar could become a soft gentle purr. “I’m very disappointed in you Merry. Who would I kiss if you fell down the stairs and broke your neck?” The large fingers tenderly caressed the smiling woman’s throat. “You should have ignored me and eaten your dinner. I’m not a brute. Where is that blasted servant with your tea?” The eyes of the young lady at the door widened. It would take at least thirty minutes to prepare a tea tray and carry it from the kitchens. She turned and ran back to her room to get her own unfinished dinner.

  “Yes my Lord.”

  “Saucy wife, just do as you’re told.”

  “I do, even when I’m hungry…”

  “Well next time tell me to mind my plate and eat your dinner unless you want people to think I pushed you down the stairs. At last, put the tray down over here and close the door behind you.” The trembling young lady set down the tray and escaped back to her sisters to relate her adventure. Marshall poured his wife a cup of tea and held it to her lips, “When was the last time you ate?”

  “This morning…”

  “Why didn’t you eat lunch?”

  “I was…I needed…I…everyone was getting back into their coaches by the time I finished.”

  “Well what did you need so badly that you couldn’t find time to eat?”

  Mary flushed bright red and looked away from demanding sapphires, “I’ve never travelled in a carriage. I was sick again.”

  Marshall bent over and offered his ear, “Again? How many times have you been sick?”

  “Every time we stopped since leaving London.”

  Marshall’s face burned red, “You’ve been two days without food? Why didn’t you tell me? I’d have insisted we stop twenty-four hours.”

  “I didn’t want to be a burden.”

  “You’re my wife, not a burden. I don’t want to be a widower before I’ve become a husband. I order you to tell me when you’re ill or else…is there anything I can do?”

  “Would it be too much trouble…would you…?”

  “Spit it out woman I can’t read your mind.” The harsh words were softened by gentle fingers lifting her hand, “Would you like me to kiss you?” His lips pressed against her wrist. “Would you like a particular dish?”

  “Would you hold me?”

  Marshall’s lungs burned as his heart was ingulphed in a storm of feelings that momentarily froze his limbs. The woman he desired wanted him to hold her? Could she be falling in love with him? His spine tingled as his veins flooded with pleasure. “Don’t feel you have to…” Marshall jumped to his feet and plucked her out of the chair cup and all, and took the seat himself, gently lowering her onto his knees with a smile. “Is this to your liking Wife?”

  “Yes, thank you Husband.” Marshall forgot to breathe as Mary’s forehead came to rest against his neck with a long sigh of relief.

  “Eat this…” He tapped her hand with the piece of toast and watched in contentment as she ruined his favourite waistcoat with butter soaked crumbs and drops of tea. “You make my heart merry.”

  Mary tilted her head like a daisy towards the sun, “Do I really?”

  “It’s dancing in my chest. Thankfully there’s nothing for it to trip over. I fear it’s imbibed a little too much hope.”

  “Can there be such a thing as too much hope?”

  “I hope not!” Marshall relaxed into deeper contentment as the woman in his arms shook with silent laughter and gazed at him with a look that made his cravat tighten. He tipped back the willing chin and lightly brushed the crumbs off her lips. “After three merry weeks I can’t remember life without you. What have you done to me?”

  “I haven’t done anything…”

  “Oh yes you have.” Marshall set aside her cup as Mary dropped her toast and took hold of his face as she eagerly accepted his kiss. Twenty minutes later a tapping on the door slowly penetrated Mary’s foggy brain and jarred her pleasure filled senses. She’d never felt anything so natural as her arms wrapped tightly around her husband’s neck as she stared nose to nose into burning sapphires.

  “There’s someone at the door.”

  “They can go to blazes. Where were we?”

  “They say they have the tray you ordered.”

  “Blasted servants…how many trays do we need? Bring it in and then go away.”

  Mary’s smile evaporated as Henry Fitzalan sauntered in behind the maid and followed her to the chair where he leaned over the se
ated couple, “I heard you shouting for help. I see by nature’s rouge your wife has recovered. Is there anything I can do to help her ladyship; a foot rub, the kiss of life?”

  “Stop leering at my wife and go away.”

  “You’d be more upset if I didn’t leer at your good lady. You might start to wonder if you were the only one to think her desirable. A man needs to have other men admire his wife or he’ll feel he made a bad choice.”

  “I don’t care what you think; go away so I can kiss my wife.”

  “Judging by her swollen lips, she’s already been heartily kissed. There’s no need to cringe my dear, I’m perfectly harmless. I’d never hurt you…would I Marshall?”

  “No, because I’d kill you; we wish to be alone.”

  “Allow me to first admire your wife.” Morley’s leer hovered inches from Mary’s face partially hidden in her husband’s shoulder. “Such charm, such beauty makes me tremble with envy.”

  Morley’s sarcastic tone made Marshall snarl with rage. “Go to the devil Henry and take your vile tongue with you!”

  “How can compliments make a tongue vile? My Lady, do you see anything vile in my tongue?” The sneering man slowly protruded his tongue and leaned closer to Mary’s face making her draw back in disgust as he waved in towards her lips.

  “Get your stinking tongue away from my wife, she’s already ill.”

  The long tongue slid back into its sneering cavern. “I think you’ve bought yourself a treasure. If she wasn’t already taken…”

  “Touch my wife and I’ll kill you.”

  “Harsh words Marshall…you wound me. I shall have to settle with stealing you away from your bride for some shooting tomorrow. Do say you’ll come; I’m dying of boredom.” Morley leaned closer and sniffed Mary’s hair causing her to cringe again. “Your wife smells divine.”

  “Take your nose away before I flatten it.”

  “Come to think of it I am expected for a game of chance. Alyce has expressed a desire to fleece my pockets and I daren’t disappoint her. May your evening be as pleasurable as mine…I take my leave; Lady Mary, Marshall.” Morley proffered a flowery bow and followed the servant carrying away the first tray with a puzzled expression. The door softly closed leaving the two sighing in relief.

  “Henry becomes more annoying by the hour. I wish he’d take his boredom and go shoot his own birds.”

  “He frightens me…”

  “There’s no need to be afraid. Henry’s a heartless rakehell, not a cutthroat.”

  “He makes me feel like taunted prey.”

  “Henry’s just jealous that you’ve taken over his one useful occupation as my ears. We only have to endure his company for two weeks. Once Emily’s married Buckingham and Alyce’s moves in with her sister I’ll have nothing to distract me from winning your heart. Your wish will be my command. Though I must admit the way my heart is aching, I fear I’d find it difficult to deny you anything tonight.”

  Mary smiled and bashfully toyed with one of his coat buttons, “Would you recite me a poem?”

  Marshall’s eyes lit up, “A poem for Merry? It shall be Donne.

  Stay, O sweet and do not rise!

  The light that shines comes from thine eyes;

  The day breaks not: it is my heart,

  Because that you and I must part.

  Stay! or else my joys will die

  And perish in their infancy.’

  Mary stifled the mad desire to stay the night in his arms and sighed with pleasure as her husband took advantage of her raised head to woo her with more kisses.

  Chapter 9

  Hazy morning light outlined the slender woman tucked into the window seat with her lace pillow, the bobbins clacking as she settled into a comfortable position. Marshall’s chest ached with pleasure as she glanced at him from under honey coloured lashes. He slid onto the seat and put his lips to her cheek. “Wordsworth wrote a sickly poem whose ending you give meaning.

  A perfect Woman, nobly planned,

  To warm, to comfort, and command,

  And yet a spirit still, and bright.

  You are the perfect woman!”

  “Why is the perfect woman planned to command? Wordsworth sounds like a bore.”

  “He is, but when I return this afternoon I shall command you to kiss me or endure a recitation of the entire poem.”

  “You don’t have to threaten me with torture to receive a kiss.”

  “What if I want two kisses?”

  “I’m sure you can come up with some sort of lure…”

  “Hmmm…you mean something like this?” He produced a small plate with three miniature iced cakes from behind his back and held them out. Buckingham had them made for Emily. She won’t miss them, there were at least a hundred.”

  “Oh Mr Godfrey…there’s no better way to tempt a mermaid out of the water; I’ll eat them and think how much I enjoy dry land…and your kisses.”

  “Speaking of kisses, one more and then I must be…” Ten minutes later Marshall reluctantly detached his lips with a dazed smile. “Now remember what I said last night Wife. You are to do nothing today but relax, sleep, eat and kiss me. If I return to find you’ve reorganised my trunks or helped out in the kitchen you’ll be sorely punished and don’t give me that innocent look. I know how you are, Perfect Woman.”

  “I’m not perfect.”

  “I can’t hear you.” Marshall jumped off the window seat and gave his laughing wife an elegant bow before humming out of the room and down the hall.

  …

  Two excited pointers wagged their tails as they sniffed their way down the well worn path towards the lake followed by Marshall, Morley and a gamekeeper, guns weighing down their arms. Marshall took a deep contented breath as he pondered the increasing probability of winning his wife’s heart. The thought of being the possessor of such a treasure made him smile and his body ache with longing.

  “Marshall, you need to do something about that stupid dazed expression, it makes you look like a silly school boy.”

  “What?”

  “You’re smiling like a silly school boy.”

  Marshall blushed, “Am I? I feel like a school boy. Merry’s perfect…”

  “It’s about time you bed a woman. She must be experienced to put that smile on your face.”

  “Merry hasn’t even kissed another man. We haven’t…I mean, I didn’t marry her for sex Henry. I hired her to be a temporary châtelaine. I was going to sue for annulment at the end of the year, but I’ve changed my mind. If she falls in love with me I’ll have a proper wife. She needs time to know how she feels. I don’t know if I can bear to wait three months, but when she looks at me I feel like I’ve inherited the Orient.”

  “How bourgeoisie.”

  “Are you sneering at my good fortune or your lack of it?”

  Morley stopped and shook his head in exaggerated despair, “Being loved by one’s wife is not comme il faut Marshall. My wife will wed me for my money and I shall wed her for her shapely contours, pretty face and ability to breed. It’s a social contract that benefits both parties. She’ll give me a legal heir and I’ll shower her with the trappings of wealth and position. We’ll both get what we want.”

  “Don’t be surprised when your purchased pedigree breeder takes a lover and saddles you with a bastard heir before giving you congé.”

  “If my wife dares lift her skirts for another man she’ll die in an unfortunate accident along with any uncertain offspring.”