Smirke 01 - An Unlikely Hero (21 page)

“Forgive me Mr
Smirke, but there’s a young lady at the door who wishes to speak
with Miss Lark…”

“I don’t care
if the Queen is at the door; tell her to go to blazes. We’re
getting married. Miss Lark doesn’t have time for…where are you
going?”

Joan slid off
his lap and patted down her hair, “I want to see who it is. Your
hair ribbon is coming undone…eat your toast. I’ll ask one of the
maids to bring our hats down. We’ll leave as soon as the carriage
arrives.”

“Tell whoever
it is to go away, I need you.”

“You need me?”
John’s crooked smile reappeared as her eyes widened with pleasure.
“I’ve never been needed before.” She kissed his forehead and
straightened his cravat. “I feel like I’m in a fairytale…tell me
the magic never fades. I’d hate to wake up and find you were a
myth. I’d miss my wicked beautiful guardian.”

“I’m going to
put a ring on your finger and chain you to my heart. Every morning
I shall listen to you sing.”

“I’m afraid
your lark doesn’t sing, although the dancing master at my school
once said the man brave enough to put a ring on my finger would
never be bored…I thought that was a lovely compliment.” John winced
as his heart seemed to expand in his chest causing an exquisite
dose of pleasure and pain. He ensnared one of her hands and pressed
his lips to her wrist.

“I haven’t
been bored since you flew into my arms; infuriated but never…”
Frederick’s uncomfortable cough drew a scowl from John as Joan was
reminded that there was an unknown person waiting to speak with
her. John watched as his heart floated from the room in a cloud of
pink silk. John licked his lips and rubbed his chest as he took a
deep uncomfortable breath. The dull stillness of the room sent his
eyes rolling back towards the door. How long would she be? He
grimaced at his cold limp toast and drained his chocolate. An
uncomfortable feeling of dread pulled him from his chair. It might
be anyone at the door. Mulgrave could have cooked up some awful
revenge… John sneered at his groundless panic as he stepped into
the entrance hall in time to see the train of Joan’s pink dress
trail out the front door. His sore muscles would only function at a
slow rusty jog. He reached the open front door muttering curses on
unwanted visitors. His shoulders relaxed, it wasn’t Mulgrave’s
carriage. She was listening to some woman through an open carriage
door, “Miss Lark!” The horses suddenly strained against the tension
in the coachman’s hands.

“Oh Mr
Smirke…I’m so excited…she knew my mother.”

“I don’t care
if she knows the devil, come inside. The coach will be here…”

A muffled
voice inside the carriage shouted, “Now!” The two mismatched
footmen in ill fitting livery standing guard on either side of the
open door grabbed Joan and forcibly shoved her head first into the
carriage. Joan’s angry scream stabbed John’s nerves as he forced
his stiff muscles into action and jogged down the steps towards the
carriage too terrified to think.

“I’m coming…”
A piercing scream was muted as a veiled woman shut the carriage
door. A whip cracked over the horses and the carriage lurched out
of reach. “Bring back my bride you bastards.” John screamed as
agony erupted in his chest. He knew intimately all the unspeakable
things that might happen to his little lark. Pain crippled his need
to act. Running footsteps stopped behind him as both of his
brother’s appeared too late to help. “Some bastard has taken my
Joan…Peter, help me.” Wrapped in his older brother’s arms, the
suffocating pain was almost bearable. “I’ve got to find her…Joan,
I want my Joan…she needed me and I couldn’t save her.” John sobbed
into his brother’s shoulder.

Peter exhaled
a shuddered breath, “I know how you feel. We’ll get her b-back…as
soon as we figure out who’s taken her.”

James Smirke
cracked his knuckles, “Robert Neilson waltzed into my house last
night and had the impudence to suggest Joan needed saving as if
John were some sort of rakehell. Frederick!” The footman appeared
in the doorway as if by magic. “Miss Lark has been abducted. We
need to know if Robert Neilson’s at his town house or if he’s
leaving Bath, hurry man. John…you’d best go wash your face. You
don’t want to rescue Joan with snot dripping from your nose. I’ll
load my pistols…”

John was
gently led to James’s study and left alone to pull himself
together. John blew his nose and threw the cloth into the fire. He
could feel his heart beating, but his chest felt numb, as if his
other organs had been removed leaving a hole. Unmanly tears gushed
from his eyes as visions of Joan at the mercy of some rakehell
scalded his heart.

“I tried
snatching my wife and dragging her to the altar. It was a stupid
mistake.” John visibly jumped as his probationary agent appeared at
his elbow. “I thought she’d find it romantic. I was deeply shocked
to discover she was furious. Admittedly, at seventeen I was hardly
equipped to comprehend the vagaries of a fifteen year old female.
She slapped my face, pulled my hair and wished me to the devil. I
didn’t even get a kiss before we were overtaken. Was that the first
time I was thrown into the tower or the second? Ah…those were the
days. That’s a nice suit…”

“I don’t care
what you did while you roamed the earth in flesh you pestilent… You
know whose take her! You can tell me…who has my Joan? Where has he
taken her?”

“Of course I
know. I’ve just come from the carriage… John Sebastian you’ve got
snot on your cravat.”

“Just tell me
who’s taken my Joan.”

“There’s no
need to shout I have perfect hearing.”

“Tell
me…please…help me find my Joan. I can’t live without her.”

“Well since
you’ve touched my romantic heart I’ll give you a clue.”

“I don’t want
a clue I want a name before she’s ravished by some vengeful
monster.”

“Strictly
speaking I’m not here to make your life easier…”

“Please…I’m
begging you.”

“Very well,
I’ll give you a clue…oh dear my messenger is ringing. I was afraid
that might happen.” The agent took a flat metal snuffbox from his
pocket and held it to his ear. “Agent 1680 Smirke assignment…yes I
know…I know I’m not supposed to give clues, but he’s in a terrible
state. He has snot dripping all over his… Yes I know you know, but
can’t I give him a miniscule hint? He’s so pathetic. Forgive me…no
you don’t have to take me off the case. I promise I won’t
interfere. I think he’s doing quite well considering his beloved
has just been snatched.”

“Are you mad?
Why are talking into a snuffbox?”

“Yes I’d
better go he’s getting frantic. I remain your eternally obedient
servant, Sir.” The agent shoved the snuffbox back into his pocket
and smiled. “The Boss is pleased with your progress, but I’m afraid
I can’t help you find the girl.”

“You expect me
to believe that God was talking to you through a snuffbox? You’re
mad!”

“Who said it
was a snuffbox? Wipe your nose and go find the girl.”

“If Robert
Neilson’s taken my Joan he’ll wish he hadn’t.”

“He’ll soon be
wishing…oops…if you’ll excuse me there’s something I need to do for
my wife.” John took a deep breath and wiped his nose on his coat
sleeve. Anger was slowly devouring his helplessness. He’d find his
Joan and then he’d…John sank into pleasurable thoughts of revenge.
Robert Neilson was going to suffer.

Joan wriggled
with force in the arms of the swearing footman; the bruising hand
over her mouth muffling her rage. Agitated servants shouted at each
other as they struggled to keep Joan from putt a foot through a
carriage window. The task had been simple in design. They were to
coax the girl out to the carriage, push her inside and bringing her
back to Neilson’s town house. They’d been assured that the girl
wasn’t intelligent enough to fear the unknown. The whole operation
was to be as easy as collecting a case of Meissen porcelain. After
all, the girl was in the clutches of a notorious rakehell and any
sensible person would agree that she’d be far happier in Mr
Nielson’s care.

As the
carriage flew into the private mews the sweating footman holding
Joan momentarily lost his grip. A roar of pain filled the carriage
as Joan sunk her teeth into her captor’s fingers. Momentarily free
she lunged for the door, blood dripping from her lips. She was
wrenched back from the door by her hair and pushed to the floor of
the carriage as the vehicle slowed to a stop. She was roughly
shoved into the arms of two strong men and carried inside like a
roll of carpet kicking and screaming. In through the servant’s
entrance and up three flights of stairs; she was dropped to the
floor of an upper story bed chamber. She sat up and listened as the
men locked the door. She pulled up her knees and waited to be
rescued. Her Mr Smirke would find her. He had to find her. They had
to get to the church before noon or they’d have to wait another
night to wed. The thought of being deprived the pleasure of her
guardian’s lips for even an hour made her snarl into her knees. She
couldn’t wait for her wicked guardian to find her, she had to
escape. Her thoughts were scattered as a key clunked into the lock
and scraped against metal. Joan’s eyes widened with disbelief as
the beautiful Robert Nielson stepped into the room and closed the
door behind him. “Good morning Miss Lark, I’m afraid I owe you an
apology. My servants weren’t meant to manhandle you. I want you to
feel safe. My house is your house. Have you eaten? Bloody
servants…what have they done to your mouth? Did they hit you?”
Robert Nielson crossed over to his latest acquisition on the floor
and crouched down to get a better view. “Don’t be frightened Miss
Lark; you’re perfectly safe. John Smirke will never be able to hurt
you here.”

Joan’s eyes
filled with tears as she clasped her hands as if in prayer, “Oh
please Mr Nielson, please take me back…Lady Jemima and the boys are
waiting at the church…this is my wedding dress…Mr Smirke will be
half mad with worry. His heart will be breaking. Take me home
before he buys a pistol and shoots someone and ends up back in
hell. Oh please let me go, I want my Mr Smirke!”

“John Smirke
doesn’t have a heart. I’m going to take care of you from now on.
I’ll give you a dowry of fifteen thousand pounds. You’ll be able to
marry some kindly Vicar and have a brood of healthy brats. You’ll
be safe with me; I won’t let Smirke drag you up the aisle.”

“I don’t want
to be safe, I want my Mr Smirke.”

“You just need
time to adjust to your new home. If this one doesn’t please you,
you can live in one of my other houses.”

“He’ll die
without my kisses.”

“You’re better
off without him. The man must be poxed past his eyebrows.”

“I don’t care
if he lives in a box…I’ll die without his kisses…”

“The thought
of Smirke kissing you makes me ill. You’ll never be molested by
that withered limb of Satan again. After a few months you’ll forget
that worm. One day you’ll probably wake up wanting my kisses.” Mr
Neilson’s smug calm smile twisted into an agonised snarl as the
innocent wide eyed Meissen figurine flew up off the floor with an
ear piercing scream and clawed his face. Her chewed fingernails
couldn’t break the skin, but she managed to shove several fingers
up his nose and one into an eye with savage fury.

“I want…my….Mr
Smirke!” Neilson leapt to his feet groaning in pain, he looked down
on the snarling Gorgon through one eye and slapped her hard across
the face.

“You’ll stay
here and think about how lucky you are to be rescued from that
fiend. When you decide you’re hungry you’ll apologise for acting
like a hoyden. Perhaps after a week alone in here you’ll remember
how to act like a lady.”

“Let me go!”
Joan lunged for Neilson’s leg and tried to bite his knee. Robert
Neilson roughly pushed the snarling Joan off his leg and ran to
safety. On the comfortable side of a locked door his swelling eye
and sore nostrils pulsated with pain. “I hate you, you great big
ugly brute. Do you hear me? You’re ugly and I hate you! I want my
Mr Smirke.” The blindingly beautiful Robert Neilson had never known
a woman think him anything, but a charming temptation. Being called
ugly was almost as uncomfortable as having his face clawed. The
girl was clearly unstable, all the more reason to save her from
Smirke. Firmly resolved to carry though his plan, Neilson retreated
to his own rooms to nurse his wounds and wait for the Smirkes to
come knocking.

Joan beat
against the door until her arms ached and her hands were bruised.
Her captor seemed determined to wrench her from her guardian’s
arms. She wiped away her tears and looked around the room for
inspiration. The subtle carving on the bed and dressing table told
a tale of expendable wealth. She fingered the fine linen bedclothes
under a thick silk down filled quilt and looked at the coal fire in
the grate. Desperation encouraged her natural impetuosity. After
carefully heating the fire poker in the heart of the flames she
pulled the Wedgwood chamber pot from the bed side commode and
walked over to the window facing out over the mews where servants
were running back and forth. Feeling hopeful she smashed the
chamber pot against each of the twelve panes of glass until a
freezing wind was blowing into the room. Feeling cheered she threw
the chamber pot into the yard and watched it explode on impact.
Servants screamed and scattered like rats. She ran to the fire and
heaved the poker out of the flames and rolled it over the bed’s
silk quilt top until it burst into flames. Smoke was billowing out
the window by the time the door was unlocked by frightened maids.
Screaming, they rushed to put out the fire. Joan slipped away
unnoticed too exhilarated by success to think beyond finding the
main staircase. She was within sight of the front door when she
caught the eye of the servant suffering from her sharp teeth. She
made a dash for freedom, but was grabbed by the arm and then by the
hair. Pushed to her knees and pinned to the ground, she sobbed into
her pink silk moaning for her beloved.