The Hired Wife (3 page)

“Must you say
things you know will mortify me my Lord?”

“
My name is Marshall. I can’t stand being addressed as if I
were some sort of God. I’m a man, just like the footman though
hopefully not as stupid.”

Having
distracted her husband from her underclothes she relaxed. “What
will be my duties today Marshall?”

“I want you
to…” Mrs. Green entered with the tray, set it firmly on the desk in
front of Mary and slammed the door behind her. “Blasted servants…”
He jumped out of his chair and jerked open the door to the hall.
“Next time I might be making love to my wife who has perfect
hearing, so use that ham fist of yours on the door before entering
or I’ll find a new housekeeper.”

“She wouldn’t
last five minutes with your shouting and tantrums; you’d beg me
back on your knees.”

“Stop mouthing
me and get back to work.” He slammed the door and turned around.
“What are you shaking your head at Wife? Eat your food!” Mary felt
her insides drop as he walked to the window. She’d hurt his
feelings. The strong blue coated shoulders slumped as if he was
losing an inner battle. The booming declaration that he might be
found making love to his wife which had initially embarrassed her,
now made her sad. How many women had rejected him? Looking at the
angry back, it was easy to believe quite a few. She finished her
plate and hurried out of the room with the tray.

…

Marshall turned
back around to find his study as empty as his heart. Gulping down
frustrated tears he battled the old torments back into their cages.
Life wasn’t faire, but it might have been worse. Just because he
didn’t have a laughing wife in his arms who looked up at him with
adoration didn’t mean he was unloved. His father, mother and step
mother had loved him. His two young sisters loved him, but he was a
man he wanted more. He wanted a loving helpmeet. He hoped the short
interlude with a hired wife would help him understand women. There
had to be one woman in England who could see that he was at heart
good and kind. It wasn’t his fault people didn’t make any sense. He
couldn’t even ask for a small change to his usual breakfast without
ending up in a brawl with the cook and footman. He slumped into his
chair and was about to shout for his wife to return when she
stepped into the room and resumed her seat.

“Where have you
been?”

Mary didn’t
bother to reply until he’d sat down beside her.

“I took my tray
to the kitchen and thanked Cook. The eggs were perfect.”

“Ladies do not
thank their cook for poaching an egg.”

“Perhaps if
they did, their households would run more smoothly. If I think
something good I try to share it.”

“And if you
think something bad?”

“I keep it to
myself.”

“How quaint;
you needn’t put on an angel act for my benefit Merry Dunne. Fulfil
the position’s requirements and I’ll keep you on, fall short and
I’ll sack you.”

Mary stared
into angry hurt eyes only three inches from her own and forced
herself to silently swallow her own bruised feelings; she was a
servant paid to do a job. Lowering her eyes, she stared at his blue
waistcoat. “How may I serve you?”

Marshall looked
at Mary from the corner of his eyes. An uneasy sensation in his
stomach told him he’d hurt her. He pulled a thin book out of his
pocket and found the page he wanted. “Read to me.”

She rested the book against his shoulder and started reading.
“
She walks in beauty like the night of
cloudless climes and starry skies
…”

“You call that
reading? Start over and don’t run all the words together.”

“I’ve never
read Byron before.”

“Give it
here!

She walks in beauty, like the
night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow’d to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair’d the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
”

“You read that
beautifully.”

“So your
husband’s done something good has he?” The words were heavy with
sarcasm.

“I’m sure you
do many good things Marshall.”

“But you still
think me a cruel heartless bastard. I’m not blind woman; I saw the
way you looked at me.”

“I’m your
servant; my feelings are insignificant.”

Strong fingers
took hold of her chin and gently tipped back her head, forcing her
to look into angry sapphires. “Until I annul our marriage, you are
Lady Raynham.” The words were a booming hiss. “You’ll tell me if
you’re unhappy with me and explain why. I won’t have my peace cut
up by a morose female moping at my shoulder thinking ill thoughts
of me from dusk to dawn…well? Why did you give me that look?”

“I was being
honest and you sneered at me. If your intention was to make me feel
uncomfortable then you succeeded. If you don’t think I’ll be
adequate then have pity and annul my employment before I start
deluding myself that I have a year of meals to look forward to. I
can’t serve you if I have an axe hanging over…”

“I thought you
said you didn’t mind plain speaking.” The booming roar dropped to a
relative whisper as his thumb caressed her face. “I didn’t mean to
hurt your feelings. Unless you’re a thief, a complainer or a whore
I’ll be quite satisfied with you.” Her skin was soft and smelled
faintly of roses as his lips brushed her cheek. His bride didn’t
pull away, but he could feel her freeze with dismay. His romantic
soul was making him a fool. He pulled away, picked up his book of
poetry and randomly chose a page. “Go acquaint yourself with the
household. I’ll call if I need you.” The words on the page were
meaningless symbols as he stared blindly at the object in his
hands.

Mary sighed in
dismay as she stood to go. The man had been smiling before he’d
kissed her. Now he was glaring at the book as if he hated poetry.
“Marshall…” He turned over the page and pretended to read until she
tapped his shoulder.

“What?” It was
a terse unhappy word.

“I’m sorry I
misunderstood you.” Intelligent blue eyes looked up at her and then
returned to the page. She was dismissed.

Marshall
watched her disappear out the door before throwing the book on the
desk and rubbing his eyes. There was something irrationally
pleasing about the plain woman. Sitting back in his chair he closed
his eyes and recalled the image of his wife in her chemise. She was
far too thin, but after a couple months of good dinners… Was he
losing his mind? Was he so desperate that he’d reached a point
where he’d settle for any woman in his bed? He growled in disgust
as his dreams wilted in despair. He had to get out and clear his
head. After a long walk he’d return to find the real woman he
married.

Mary heard her
husband shouting for his overcoat and hat and then the front door
open and close. Where was he going? Was he angry with her? She
sighed in ignorance and continued her inspection of the house.
There was a depressing air of temporary accommodation about the
rooms. After staring at a painting of a long dead Godfrey with
bright blue eyes she ran her finger along shelves and fire
surrounds finding dust. The house and furniture cried out for
proper cleaning. Candle wax globbed the sides of expensive silver
candlesticks. Oil lamps were stained black with smoke. The fire
grates were swept and filled with fresh coal, but hadn’t received a
proper blacking in weeks. Did the twins have important callers? The
thought made Mary cringe. If her father’s rectory had looked half
as neglected she’d have faced quiet disgrace from the entire
parish. She couldn’t believe the upper class would be any less
vicious. With a mental list of improvements and a plan of execution
she went in search of the housekeeper.

…

Marshall let
himself back in with his own key and locked the door on the night.
He sniffed the air in shock; the house smelled of lemons, vinegar,
linseed oil and beeswax. He shrugged out of his overcoat and draped
it over the hall chair. Free of his hat and gloves he stepped into
his study and found a small clean oil lamp lighting up his tidied
desk. He looked at his watch and stepped back out into the hall and
stopped in shock. His outerwear had disappeared. He hadn’t seen
such efficiency since his step-mother’s death. It was gone
nine-thirty; would his wife be in bed? He wasn’t sure what he hoped
to find. He’d idled away the day browsing bookstalls and spent the
evening at his club reading the papers trying to convince himself
that his wife’s charms were delusions born of desperation. For the
present, his dream of romance refused to politely step aside for
lust.

Stopping in the
doorway to the sitting room, he stared spellbound at the mermaid.
Bathed in lamp light, the small pillow on her lap dotted with pins
and bobbins tied with future lace lying forgotten as she listened
intently to something one of his sisters was saying. She suddenly
turned to look in his direction and smiled. The bobbins clacked as
she set them aside and rushed to his side. “Did you have dinner? Do
you need a drink?”

“Tell him to
come over here and sit with us.”

“I’ve eaten.
What are those two hussies chattering?” Her touch resurrected
memories of his father greeting his mother with a kiss. Marshall
barely resisted the impulse to follow suit.

“They want you
to join them.”

“Alright, move
over Alyce and one at a time. I refuse to be driven mad for your
evening’s amusement.” Mary watched her husband sit down in between
his pretty sisters and fold his arms in contentment as they each
claimed an ear. She returned to her seat and pretended to work on
her lace as she listened.

Emily Godfrey
wrapped her hands around her brother’s arm. “We had the most
fantastic day. Auntie Bea took us to a breakfast party that lasted
forever and we met the most amusing man. I think I’m in love…”

Alyce pulled on
Marshall’s other arm for attention. “He’s ugly, but he’s so rich it
doesn’t matter…”

Emily scowled
at her sister before continuing. “He’s adorable! He looks just like
a bunny rabbit and he has the most charming personality. You’d like
him Marshall, he’s very kind…”

“Yes, he
reminds us of you…”

Marshall met
his wife’s laughing eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Wife, do I look
like a rabbit?” He twitched his lips up and down over his front
teeth and was rewarded by silent laughter as she shook her head.
“My wife doesn’t think I look like a rabbit.”

Emily pinched
his cheek. “We like your face, you look like Papa.”

“I’m glad
someone likes my face. So who is this paragon of rabbithood?”

Alyce pulled on
Marshall’s ear dragging his attention back to her. “Lord
Buckingham; he says the funniest things. We nearly wet ourselves
laughing.”

Emily scowled
at her mirror image, “I saw him first!”

“What does it
matter which of us saw him first? The man can’t tell us apart.
Besides, you’d spoil him and make him think he’s handsome. I’m more
ruthless. I’ll ensure he makes something of himself. He could be
prime minister…”

Marshall
scowled at Alyce. “Don’t be a hussy! A man doesn’t marry so he can
be mauled into political office. You’ll choose a husband and then
leave him well alone. I don’t want him knocking on my door
complaining he can’t sleep or eat for your nagging.”

Alyce rolled
her eyes. “I won’t need to nag Lord Buckingham. He thinks I’m
beautiful; he’ll worship me with his twenty thousand pounds a year.
And when he inherits his grandfather’s Earldom he’ll have another
ten thousand. I’ll have more money every year than you could save
in five! I’ll have rooms of red dresses…”

Marshall
growled in anger before shouting, “I don’t care what Lord Rabbit is
worth. Unless it’s a love match you won’t have my blessing.”

Alyce pouted as
her eyes filled with resentment. “You didn’t marry for love. Why
should we?”

Marshall’s eyes
narrowed in unhappiness. “Ugly deaf men have to settle for the best
they can buy and hope to find some small pinch of happiness, but I
won’t allow you to marry a rabbit just because his pockets are well
lined. You’ll marry for love or you won’t receive a penny of your
dowry.”

The kind Emily
looked at her twin in horror as Marshall jumped up off the sofa and
marched out of the room and up the stairs to his bedchamber. All
three women started as a distant door slammed shut. “Shame on you
Alyce Godfrey; you know he’s sensitive. How could you?”

“He’s being a
hypocrite. He can’t hire a wife from an ad in the paper and not
allow me to marry whoever I please.”

“Oh Alyce,
don’t be a cow. He’s just trying to protect us because he loves
us.”

“Well maybe I
don’t want to be protected? I’m nineteen not nine. I don’t need a
governess to…”

Mary
impulsively set aside her lace followed her husband. She stood
outside his bedchamber door a few minutes. She was the man’s wife,
even if it was on a wage. It was her duty to comfort him. She
slammed the door behind her hoping he’d feel the vibration and was
relieved when he turned his head in her direction. He was standing
in front of an open chest of drawers clutching a miniature portrait
of a woman. Sapphire eyes looked like brittle glass in the
candlelight. “I wish to be alone.”

There was
wetness in his voice that made her heart ache for the lonely man.
She crossed the room and put a hand on his shoulder. “I know how
you feel.” The blue glass cracked in anger.