The Hired Wife (2 page)

“I saw it on
the table last week when you had the Parish council over for
tea.”

“You must have
imagined it.”

“Stealing from
my wife is stealing from me. If you enjoy playing a man of God
you’d best hand it over or you’ll know the meaning of hell long
before you inhabit it.” The frightened old woman quickly retrieved
a wooden box and key. The contents were inspected and Mary left
without looking again at the couple. It was three o’clock as the
carriage slowly wound its way back across the city around dazed
animals, screaming pedestrians, galloping horsemen and every
conceivable kind of coach, cart and wagon that could block a narrow
road.

…

Marshall
ignored the passing fray and stared at his bride. Who was this
sleeping woman clutching a wooden box to her chest in the opposite
corner of his carriage? Had he made the right decision? She looked
weak. He reminded himself that it didn’t matter; he wasn’t planning
to breed with her. The carriage pulled up outside the rented town
house. The footman appeared a few minutes later and slowly unfolded
the steps and opened the door. “Wake up woman, we’re home.” She
jerked awake with a disorientated expression. She watched as her
things were handed over to a waiting servant leaving her with
nothing to do but take his large outstretched hand and climb
down.

“Is this where
you live?” She looked up at the narrow house in surprise. “I
thought Lords lived in large houses.”

“I’ve rented it
for the season.”

The slender
woman’s face drained of colour. “For the spring?”

He couldn’t
hear her question; he was once again frustrated by his servants, an
hourly occurrence in the Godfrey household. He felt her sag against
him, as her eyes rolled into her head. “Damn and blast Man, hold
the door open she’s fainted; I only have two arms.” The words
rattled the neighbour’s windows as he picked up his wife and waited
for the servants to obey. Carrying her inside he bellowed for the
housekeeper and laid her gently on a sofa in his ground floor
library.

Mary came to
with the stench of ammonia in her nostrils and four curious faces
hovering above, two of them identical. “She’s hungry. Get her some
food.” The middle-aged woman disappeared from view leaving the
three siblings.

“Where did you
find her?”

“Are you in
love with her?”

“Enough! Stop
chattering in my ears. You’re giving me a headache.”

“May we each
have a red dress to celebrate your nuptials?”

“I won’t have
my sisters gadding about like strumpets. I said no I meant no.”

“Princess
Charlotte wore red dresses.”

“I saw her once
wearing a red hat.”

“I don’t care
if she wears red in heaven, I said no.” The two beauties winked at
Mary and danced from the room singing a song about a red dress.
“Mrs Green!” The old woman appeared at his elbow with a tray.
“Inform the household I’ve married. I wish her to be addressed as
my Lady. Send someone to the needle-witch. I want her here
tomorrow. Make sure she understands Lady Raynham will need an
entire wardrobe. Tell the witch my wife is medium height, thin,
small bosomed and faire with honey colored hair.”

“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.

“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 being 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.”