The Hired Wife

by Cari Hislop

  Chapter 13

  Mesmerising waves lapped the red shore as a gentle breeze pressed against the ladies skirts, revealing feminine shapes. Marshall’s eyes darted back and forth between the food hampers being loaded in his boat and his wife admiring the scenery. Leaning into the wind she brought to mind a carved figurehead at the prow of a ship. She still looked hungry, but the low cut greenish-blue wool spencerette and thin amber silk skirts promised future curves. His heart leapt against his chest as the matching bonnet turned and caught his eye. The hands of his pocket watch paused as time reverently contemplated eternity. The spell was broken by shrieks of delight as Morley lifted Alyce off her feet and dropped her into his boat. Marshall’s scowl was met by his sister’s smug superior smile. With her bright glowing cheeks and all knowing expression she looked like a bride revelling in her new position as a married woman. He’d have to speak frankly with her about the health risks of marrying a rakehell. The fear of losing her looks and dying young might lead her to aspire for a better man, but her expression as Morley playfully arranged her skirts made it unlikely.

  Marshall’s fears for his sister were forgotten as he turned back to find his wife at his side. Amber leather gloves ineffectively pushed wisps of honey from excited eyes, “Have you ever seen anything so magical?”

  “Not since the last time I looked at you.”

  Mary blushed as she shook her head, “I meant the castle ruins on the island.”

  Marshall reluctantly clasped his hands behind his back as he leaned towards his wife, “Hmmm….when we get back to London I must hire someone to paint you.”

  “Why would you want a painting of me?”

  “It’s tradition. And I’ll have proof I momentarily possessed a magical wife before she threw me aside for a beautiful Smirke.”

  Mary sighed in disappointment as she turned her eyes back to the island. “I can’t imagine any man falling in love with me let alone some beautiful Lord. The parish children didn’t call me Mary Done-for for nothing.”

  Masculine fingers took hold of her chin demanding her gaze. “You’ll be done for if you don’t believe me when I tell you I have a magical wife.”

  “Oh? And how will I be done for my Lord?”

  “You’ll be eating tripe morning noon and night until you’re a believer.”

  “I believe you.”

  “See that you do Merry Wife. I hate it when people I admire discount my sincere praise as meaningless twaddle.”

  Mary stared into bright blue eyes, her imagination conjuring adoration. Yes he was plain, but there was a masculine charm to his features and his kisses caused the sweetest sensations. It was an easy face to meet at the breakfast table. “I could never marry a beautiful man. I’d always feel mismatched. I’d never be truly comfortable…unless he was blind.”

  “Hmmm…I hope this doesn’t mean you’re going to gouge out my eyes one evening while I sleep Mrs Godfrey?”

  “Not unless they’re real sapphires and you’re only pretending to see me…”

  Marshall shook with laughter as he let go of her chin and held out his hand, “Saucebox! If I had any magic I’d cast a spell on you.”

  “What kind of spell would that be my Lord?” Mary held her breath as hungry sapphires glinted with a boyish smile.

  “A binding one.” Her gloved hand was raised to his lips. “Now have done, before I decide the risk of being blinded far outweighs any hope of happiness.” Mary was abruptly horizontal mid-air looking up at a determined chin wrapped in fresh white linen. Placed upright on the middle perch, Mary clutched her seat as the rowboat wobbled back and forth. Marshall shrugged off his jacket and threw it down beside her before climbing in at the same time as Buckingham at opposite end nearly tipping Mary and Emily into the lake. Emily squealed with delight as Buckingham fell laughing into her arms, but was soon quiet as Buckingham whispered legends of the lake into her ear. Deaf to the couple behind her, Mary watched her husband remove his cravat. “Do you know how to swim?” She shook her head. “I’ll order you a bathing costume when we return to London. When we’re free of my sisters I’ll take you home and throw you in my lake. You’ll be swimming like an eel in no time.”

  “I’d rather swim like a mermaid.”

  “I can’t hear you.” Mary watched fascinated as Marshall rolled up his shirtsleeves revealing muscled forearms covered in straight brown hair. She stared at the exotic male flesh as he shouted, “Pick up your oars Henry, my wife’s getting hungry.”

  Morley sneered across the short distance before turning back to his three passengers and saying in a smug tone, “So is mine!”

  “I’m famished Henry, row like the devil. I haven’t eaten a morsel since last night. Every time I tried to get up I was…otherwise detained.”

  “So you were, but perhaps we should spare our relations any naked details; it’ll make Mother sick.”

  “Morley has always been a thoughtful boy.” Beatrice nodded in agreement. “He takes after me of course. His father was a soldier. He’d come home for a few months and then be away on some silly campaign. It suited us, but after our three eldest sons all died in freak accidents My Lord Morley lost his lust for battle and drank himself to death. He said his line would expire in infamy. I reminded him we still had Henry, but he ordered another dozen bottles and wished me to the devil. I tried to persuade him to return to France. I tried to persuade him that dying in battle would be less scandalous than dying of drink, but he said he’d only leave the house in a coffin. He had his wish. Morley found his father’s body in his library a few months later. Morley had the bad luck to be the one to find all of his brother’s bodies as well as his father’s.”

  “Yes, it was very rude of them to die where I’d find them.”

  The Dowager Marchioness scowled as servants roughly pushed the boat into deeper water. “I still believe my three eldest sons were murdered by one of the jealous peasants always cutting across our land which is sandwiched between two villages. Whoever thought to allow that second village was a cretin. I ordered My Lord Morley to have it knocked down, but the fool wouldn’t hear of it. If it hadn’t been for that second village our eldest son, David would never have fallen in love with a farmer’s daughter. She’d trespass every Thursday to market. The morning he died I told him to bed the girl and be done with her. He was so angry he nearly had a fit as if a nameless chit can have honour and swore he’d marry the girl or be damned. The chit had nothing but a sickly sweet disposition and a pretty face. She wasn’t marriage material for a Vicar, let alone the next Marquis of Morley. I thought I’d die of shame and then they came to tell me David was dead. It was an awful blow. My third son as you know died falling down the steps of the old Fitzalan keep when he was ten. I had it torn down after that. As for that scheming slut, her true nature became public when she died in childbirth after accusing Morley of the grossest indecency. If she thought she could blackmail her way into my family she was mistaken.”

  The Marquis of Morley met his bride’s raised eyebrow with an easy smile, “She begged me to pleasure her and I was happy to oblige.” Morley abruptly leaned heavily to one side to pick up an oar. The side of the boat slapped the water’s surface as the three ladies pitched towards the water only to be saved by Morley leaning heavily to the other side. Screams of fright became screams of encouragement as Morley oars expertly sliced the water starting the race by default.

  …

  The Five Smirkes stood at the top of the hill staring down at the lake watching the two boats launch. Cosmo turned to glare at his eldest brother looking through a small telescope at the lake, “I don’t think Papa would mind in the least if we rowed out to the island. We always row in the sea when we visit Cousin Llewellyn and that’s far more dangerous than a stupid lake. I want to see if the ruins have any old graffiti for my collection. Why do we have to spend the day hunting snails for Robert? He has too many dead things in his chamber at home; it stinks!”

  “At least my room doesn’t smell like you
r shoes. Unlike your useless collection of numerical facts and graffiti rubbings, I’m a follower of Bodeo da Stapek, Leeuwnhoek and Linnaeus. While you read ladies fashion magazines and dream of exorcising your inactive spermatozoa on some hairy Amazon, I’m discovering and collecting new species. I’ll change the world while you change your smalls.”

  “Cecil, tell him to shut up. He’s not allowed to make fun of my collections.”

  Cecil handed the telescope back to George who shared his long suffering expression. “Cosmo; you’re nineteen not nine. You may do as you please, if you can outrun me. If you insist on venturing onto the water, tempting fate before you’ve kissed a girl, suit yourself.”

  “I don’t want to go by myself…Charles?”

  Charles’s upper lip curled in distaste, “If I have to endanger my life one more time helping you make another rubbing of some forgotten idiot’s name or insignia, I’ll have the local sawbones remove my arms.”

  George put the telescope to his right eye, “That’s an idea; no one would ever confuse you with Uncle John.”

  Cecil slapped his sulking brother on the back, “Cheer up Cosmo, when we’ve found Robert some snails we’ll ride over to the Saxon church and see if a bored church goer carved his name into a pew. It’ll save Charles’ arms for his future wife.”

  “I don’t want to visit the stupid church; I want to visit the castle.”

  “It’s not safe and that’s the end of it.”

  “Nothing in life is safe Cecil. Do you know how many people die…?”

  “Spare us your facts and try not to drown or break your neck until after we rejoin Papa. Just think how blessed you are not to have to look at Morley’s stupid face all day. The snotty Alyce Godfrey looks determined to become Morley’s mattress. If she was my sister I’d lock her in her room ‘til Morley died of the pox. At least Raynham has the sense to disapprove…”

  George raised his telescope and watched the two boats glide toward the island, “I have an awful feeling Morley married her last night.”

  Robert violently shook his head, “No! Alyce can’t have married that moulding satyr. I walked with her yesterday morning in the conservatory. She gave no indication of being about to marry anyone I assure you.”

  “Didn’t you see their faces when they returned from visiting that church with the old women? She looked like a blushing bride on the arms of a decrepit Pan about to play his pipes. If you’d asked for a telescope for your birthday instead of a dozen large bell-jars Robert, you’d have just seen Morley take husbandly liberties with the girl. Can you imagine having to see Morley naked? Ugh!”

  Cosmo forgot about hitting his younger brother and turned to stare at the tiny boats, “But she’s only nineteen; she can’t marry without her brother’s permission…”

  “I tell you, there’s no way she wilfully married Morley. He must have blackmailed her. He must have forced her…”

  George folded his eyeglass and shoved it in a pocket. “I hope you haven’t been kissing the girl Robert…zut alors you little fumbler. Look at his face Cecil, it’s on fire. I hope you kept your trousers buttoned because if Morley has married the wench and she gives birth to a black eyed babe you’re dead. If Morley doesn’t fill you with lead, Papa will torture you with an eternal lecture on being a good man and then send you to stay with Uncle John who you know will kindly kill you with his own lecture on why you don’t want to end up in hell.”

  Charles Smirke eyed his baby brother with concern, “Let’s hope the wench has enough sense not to mention your tête a tête to Morley. Whether she’s married him or not, if you have any sense you’ll avoid her like the pox. Keep your lips to yourself or I’ll kiss them with my fists.”

  “At least she’ll know Morley’s a bad kisser, but Charles and George are right; from now Alyce is the pox.”

  “You don’t know her; she’s amusing and sweet and…stop looking at me like that George. You’re just jealous because she doesn’t want to kiss you.”

  George sighed as he rolled his eyes. “What do we do with him Cecil? The child has fallen for a pretty face and a patch box of lies.”

  “I’m seventeen and as much a man as any of you.” His four older brothers’ derisive snorts of laughter fanned his fury. “If you call yourself men, tell me one thing about women, one fact that you’ve learned from experience? Oh wait; you have no experience because you’re all virgins. You wouldn’t know what to do with a woman if you found one naked in your bed.” His four older brothers were no longer laughing. “Why are you so shocked? I’m not a louse under Robert Hooke’s telescope; I’m a biological being performing my functions.”

  Cecil shook his head in horror, “You’re an idiot. Did you mate Alyce?”

  “How could you think I’d ruin an unmarried lady of quality?”

  Cosmo’s jaw dropped as his black eyes burned with envy, “How could you spread your seed like a mindless dog? What if you get the pox? What if you give some poor girl the pox and a babe? What are you going to do then Robert Smirke? How are you going to tell Papa without dying of shame?”

  “Well I’m not going to marry a wench who begs me to pleasure her; if she gets with child that’s her problem.”

  George looked from Robert to Cecil with horror, “Papa is going to kill us; Robert’s turning into Uncle John.”

  “I’m nothing like Uncle John. You’re never going to see me sobbing for a woman and wiping snot all over my sleeves.”

  “If you catch the pox there’s a good chance you won’t be sane by thirty-three to replicate Uncle John’s good fortune in finding a lunatic as pretty as Aunt Joan to love you. We’ve all visited Bedlam; you know you’ll have more than snot on your sleeves.”

  “I’m not going to catch the pox.”

  Cecil eyed his baby brother with exasperation, “That’s what all the poxed idiots said before they lost their health. Let’s find Robert some snails. If they don’t keep his mind off petticoats we’ll have to encourage him by other means.”

  Chapter 14

  Entranced by Mary’s admiring glances, Marshall mechanically rowed past the island. He wasn’t far from the opposite shore before realising his mistake. His masculine cheeks were a suspicious salmon pink as he cursed himself under his breath and turned the boat around. The last thing he’d wanted was to look a fool. The ladies in Morley’s boat screeched in triumphant victory as Marshall rowed his boat close to shore.

  Marshall didn’t care about losing; he was content to pick up his wife and carry her to dry land. Most of the party wished to immediately explore the castle, but Alyce loudly demanded food and after hissing threats at Buckingham and her sister they relented. Sitting down to lunch, Marshall declined Mary’s attempts to tell him what people were saying and ate in silence. His thoughts were taken up by Mary’s nearness. Was she really only inches away? It felt like a thousand miles. Putting aside his plate, Marshall stared unseeing as his inner stillness was swamped by a need to touch his wife.

  He couldn’t hear Buckingham entertain the company with stories of the castle’s strange history. His hand self-consciously hovered nervously over his knee before bravely making the move to Mary’s leg. A flitting shy smile sanctioned the caress; Marshall relaxed feeling giddy from success and the feel of warm flesh through thin layers of silk. Victory was galloping into view.

  After twenty minutes of Buckingham’s rambling, Lady Morley shivered as the wind rose, whisking the calm lake into a muddy punch. Sunlight reflected off dazzling white spikes of meringue, raising the awful spectre of a capsized rowboat. Having lost her second and favourite son in a boating accident, the fear of being pulled into hungry water had long been a reoccurring nightmare. She stood interrupting her host, “Morley, take me back to the house at once; the water is becoming dangerous.”