by Cari Hislop
“A man can’t even help a damsel in distress…”
…
Morley whistled a cheerful tune as he followed at Marshall’s heels until Alyce stepped into his path and waited until Marshall and Mary disappeared over the top of the hill. “We haven’t been married two days and you’re trying to fondle my sister-in-law’? She doesn’t even have any charms to fondle. She’s as flat as a board.”
“She isn’t without charms I assure you. I’ve squeezed one of them. She won’t be able to forget me for a few hours.”
“Are you mad? She doesn’t even like you.”
“I thought you had a sense of humour. The virtuous Mrs Godfrey thinks I’m a monster capable of the vilest sins. She amuses me unlike boring prudes.”
“I’m not a boring prude. You can fondle anyone you please after you tell Marshall we’re married. Why do we have to keep it secret? He can’t annul it. I want to tell Emily. She’ll die of jealousy when I tell her I plan to order a dozen red dresses as soon as we return to London.”
“It makes me feel wicked when I take you, especially when your boring brother is just out of sight.”
“What’s the wickedest thing you’ve ever done?”
“If I told you I’d have to kill you. These wet steps are becoming treacherous. You wouldn’t want me to tumble down the hill and break my neck, would you?”
“Not until I give birth to your heir.” Alyce squeaked in surprise as her husband grabbed her backside and pushed her forward. She leapt safely to the next step and ran up to the top and stuck out her tongue at the leering man before running into the house laughing. Morley’s steps slowed as he shuddered with pleasure as he relived feeling Mary convulse with terror.
Mary Godfrey would be perfect once she had some fat on her bones. Morley’s knees trembled with longing as he imagined returning home from London to find Mary locked in his bedchamber, her belly swollen with a Fitzalan babe. He’d wrestle her down, pull her glorious hair into knots and lick the fear from her face until his lusty needs threatened to burst his heart. Moaning with unrelieved need, he made up his mind to bed his future wife before the week was out. If Marshall refused to die in a hunting accident or break his neck falling down the stairs, a dose of poison would solve the problem. If he could make it look like Alyce had poisoned her brother, she’d be the one hung for murder. If she was dead she wouldn’t be able to interfere out of revenge. Morley sighed with pleasure as he contemplated the future. Mary would soon be done with Lord Beast and be with child, his child.
Chapter 15
“Merry?” The word slowly sank through the numbness tilting her head away from the warm safety of his neck. “You need to let go of me so you can change out of these wet clothes… The maid is waiting, unless you wish my assistance?” While her brain processed the husky question, her husband set her on her feet, untied her bonnet and handed it to the maid.
“I need to bathe.” She needed to wash away the sensation of wet cruel fingers.
“You’re already wet through; you need to need to sit in front of a fire.”
Mary’s eyes filled with tears as her face was taken between two large hands. “What’s wrong Perfect Woman?” Mary’s eyes swivelled towards the listening maid. “My wife is upset. Wait outside.”
“Very good my Lord.”
The door was still closing as Marshall repeated his question, “Well?”
She unconsciously clutched her right breast as she sobbed, “I’m afraid…”
“Of Henry?” Mary cried with relief as she was gently pulled into his arms as he muttered curses under his breath at his school friend. “You’re safe with me Merry Wife. I won’t let him hurt you.”
“He threatened to kill you…I don’t want you to die.”
“I’m not going to die Sweetheart; forget this morbid nonsense. Henry will leave you alone or I’ll pummel him.” Resting her cheek against his shoulder, she concentrated on the gentle hand caressing her back. Would Marshall believe her if she told him his old friend had shoved his hand down her bodice? She winced at the unpleasant memory made real by her aching breast. Without the pain she’d have questioned her own senses. Soft lips caressed her forehead before strong arms released her.
Mary clutched his waistcoat pockets, “Don’t leave me.”
“We need to change before we catch a chill. I fear the sight of me sweaty and snotty would dissuade you to accept a permanent position…what? Why are you crying now?”
“I don’t want to be alone; I’m afraid.”
“I’ll leave the inner door wide open; you may run into my room if you need me though be warned I may be indecent.”
“I need you.”
Mary shivered with pleasure as laughter warmed her ear, “Those three words are poetry, but unless you want to play Adam and Eve you’ll have to let me go.” Gentle hands tipped back her face until she had to look him in the eyes. Mary returned his light kiss and bravely let him step away. She watched him prop the connecting door wide open and wink at her as he started untying his cravat before disappearing into his room. Choking panic subsided as she listened to Marshall’s cheerful humming while the maid help her into dry clothes and combed her hair. Her eyes remained fixed on the open door as thoughts of her husband déshabillé made her blush. She shook her head and resisted the impulse to peek into his room and see which Adam he most resembled.
Changed into dry clothes, she stared into the fire as she sat waiting for her hair to dry. Returning her gaze to the door, she saw two bright sapphires smiling at her. “Are you human or a mermaid trapped on land?”
“Human.”
“I can’t hear you; you must be speaking mermaid.” Mary blushed as she remembered the maid’s presence. “I was hoping to see some colour in your cheeks merry wife. Leave us!” The frightened maid jumped at the deafening two words and fled. Mary forced a smile as Marshall knelt in front of her chair and put his hand on her knee. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
Mary shook her head and absently straightened his cravat. Glancing at his face she was momentarily stunned, by adoring eyes. He looked like a man in love. She was imagining things again. “You’re much improved since the wedding.”
His neck flushed dark red as he reverently pressed closer, “Improved? How?”
“You’re far more handsome than you were a few weeks ago.”
“That wouldn’t be because you’re eating three meals a day would it?”
“Perhaps.”
“Saucebox! You’re supposed to say you were blinded by hunger and now you can see the handsome man you married.”
“If you were handsome you wouldn’t have married me.”
“If I was a dolt I wouldn’t have married you. The moment I saw you bathed in sunlight I knew you’d be a poem.”
“An eloquent sonnet?”
“You’re neither eloquent nor obedient enough to be a sonnet.”
“Oh…if I were a poem what kind of poem would I be?”
“A saucy one that extolled your virtues and parts; the gods were laughing when they sent you to apply for my advertisement…” Mary’s hand was gently claimed and pressed to his cheek. “…they knew I’d end up your servant.” The kneeling man scowled, “Why are you smiling at my sincere blandishments?” Mary leaned towards his ear and inhaled the heady smell of masculinity. “Well?”
“The thought of you as a servant; you’d be dismissed short shrift.”
The man on his knees paled as he croaked in horror, “Merciful Merry, are you planning to dismiss me? Do you find me unlovable?” The man looked like he was on trial awaiting the verdict for high treason.
“No of course not, I meant you’d make a poor footman silly.” Sapphires glittered with relief as the inside of her wrist was worshipped with a gentle kiss. “There’s someone knocking at the door.”
“Go away; I’m making love to my wife.” He seemed oblivious to her scarlet cheeks as he turned her hand over and kissed her palm before smiling up at her:
“To see the world in a grain of sand,
And heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand…”
“They’re still knocking.”
Marshall’s smile avalanched into a ferocious frown. “Some people…” Stomping over to the door he yanked it open. “Are you deaf? I said I was making love to my wife.” The two eldest Smirke brothers looked past him and smiled at Mary still sitting by the fire. “Stop staring at my wife and go to the devil.”
Cecil Smirke leaned forward and wedged his foot in the door, “Your good Lady looks like she’s stepped out of an illuminated manuscript…the only thing missing is the stylised roses and gold leaf border.”
“I’d noticed. Go away.”
Cecil Smirke winked at the blushing woman and then smiled at her jealous companion trying to shut the door, “Bucky asked us to tell you that he’s having tables set up in the red drawing room for whist. We’ll be playing for tarts. Bucky asked Mrs Cooper to produce some tarts of a twelve-penny size like they make in Marylebone Gardens; he thought she’d make a few dozen…”
“We have better things to do.”
George Smirke produced a saucer from behind his back holding a single miniature tart, “Perhaps her Ladyship would care to sample one of the stakes? This one’s filled with raspberry jam. I see the good lady’s interest has been sparked…”
Marshall grabbed the offered plate and tried harder to close the door, “Play with the devil; I’d rather kiss my wife.”
Mary blushed as the beautiful blonde Cecil winked at her again, “I’d rather kiss your wife as well, but I’d end up with a black eye and a fat lip. If her Ladyship is anxious about the event being blighted by rakehells, Morley’s refused to play for anything less than a pound a point. My Lady Raynham, pray kiss your husband and persuade him to join us or one of my younger brothers may go tartless. Being the eldest has to have some consolation.”
“My Lady Raynham wishes you to the devil!” Marshall slammed the door as the beautiful creature withdrew his foot and shoulder and reluctantly carried the plate back to Mary and stood there holding it with a scowl, “Your tart Madam.”
Mary stood up and held out her hand, “I believe it’ll taste better served up with William Blake.”
“You’re not going to fall in love with that Smirke creature are you?”
“Mr Smirke was teasing; I’m no more illuminated than I am beautiful.”
Mary shivered with pleasure as Marshall fingered her hair, “The wretched Smirke is right curse him; you do look like you’ve stepped out of a medieval manuscript. I might have thought of it myself if you’d ignored the cursed door.”
“Yes, but the cursed door is now closed.” She licked her lips as her hand waited for the tart. Still scowling, Marshall reluctantly placed the pastry on the palm of her hand. “You needn’t be jealous; I’d rather be married to you.” Marshall smiled in triumph, his eyes glittering with apparent adoration. “I believe you were reciting William Blake?”
“To see the world in a grain of sand,
And heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand…
And eternity in an hour.”
Mary bit off half the tart and chewed with enthusiasm, “Infinity is delicious. Here, I insist you taste infinity…” Mary’s heart froze as Marshall eyed the half eaten pastry with a strange expression. Was there a rule against the aristocracy sharing food? “You don’t have to eat it, I’m sure the kitchens would send up…”
“I’d be honoured to share infinity.” As the tart disappeared between white teeth the mantel clock paused. Blue eyes conjured that familiar look of adoration as his tongue tasted the tips of her fingers. Suddenly her wet fingers felt the cold draft coming down the chimney and the clock resumed striking each second. “Infinity is sweet, but I much prefer the taste of my Lady.” His eyes darted down her person with a disappointed expression. “I was hoping to open my eyes and find us both naked like Adam and Eve.” Flushing, Mary watched in hope of a kiss as blue eyes approached. “Do you know what I’d have done?”
“Made an apron of fig leaves?”
“No, I’d have put my arms around you like this and…what am I supposed to do with this stupid plate?”
“Give it here…” Mary threw onto the bed and smiled at her lord. “Didn’t your mother teach you how to put down a plate?”
“If I’m Adam, I didn’t have a mother I was formed of clay. Come to think of it I didn’t have plates either…”
“If you don’t kiss me I’ll leave you alone in Eden and go play whist with the Smirkes.”
“We shall be cast out together, but first you must be punished for tempting me…” Shivering from her husband’s warmth Mary listened to the clock ticking behind her as she answered humble lips begging for a hint of love.
Chapter 16
A grove of five foot ceramic candlesticks encircled the seated company, their flickering light picking out the swirling gold pattern woven into endless yards of blood red silk covering the walls. Matching upholstered chairs and sofas arranged around the fire were empty. The Marquis of Morley was content to lean against the mantelpiece and watch Mary through his eyeglass as the rest of the company sat in groups of four around three square tables.
Oblivious to her secret husband, Alyce sighed as she watched Robert Smirke at the next table playing cards. Triumphing in his score he turned and caught her eye. His come hither smile was torn from his lips as his eldest brother hissed something in his ear. Ignoring the beautiful Smirke sitting at her own table, Alyce leaned towards her sister and loudly whispered, “Have you ever seen anyone so beautiful?”
Distracted from watching for Buckingham’s return, Emily scowled at her sister. “What?”
“Isn’t Robert Smirke the loveliest thing you’ve ever seen on two legs?”
“No, the eldest Smirke is definitely more beautiful.” Charles Smirke flushed with embarrassment as he shuffled his cards and cleared his throat to remind the whispering sisters that a Smirke was sitting at their own table, but his noises went unnoticed.
“Cecil Smirke? The most beautiful? You must be going blind; he’s far too pretty. He could almost pass for a woman as could that one, whatever his name is.” Alyce nodded towards her red faced partner.
“My name is Charles.” His attempt at joining the conversation completely ignored, he picked up one of his stakes and ate it.
“I think there’s something wrong with this one. He never says anything.” Both sisters glanced at the tortured young man sitting at their table staring off into the distance trying to look deaf.
Emily rolled her eyes at her sister, “If you were a man who looked like a pretty woman you’d be shy too.”
“Men can’t be shy…no, the youngest is by far the most handsome and he’s already as tall as that daft George who walks like he has large rocks in his unmentionables.” Charles Smirke abruptly stood and curtly bowed before escaping to stare out of a distant window.
“Alyce Godfrey; if Marshall hears you speak like that he’ll cut your dress allowance in half. Bucky’s worried about you; he says Morley has a well deserved nasty reputation. He only invited him because you were a cow and insisted.”
“Bucky can mind his own business.”
“If you think Morley will marry you, you’d best visit Bedlam and decide which wall to be chained to.”
Alyce snorted in irritation, “So you want a rabbit and I want a lecherous cur.”
“Bucky isn’t a rabbit, but Morley is certainly a lecherous dog. That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said in weeks. Perhaps you’ll notice Robert Smirke is seventeen and not yet out of the school room.”