Smirke 01 - An Unlikely Hero

by Cari Hislop

  “He looks so peaceful. You’d never know he spent half the day shouting every twenty minutes for a clean chamber pot. Do you think he’ll speak to me tomorrow? Do you think he’ll wait many days to kiss me?”

  “He’ll doubtless waylay you on your way to bed with or without your permission; green tea?”

  “Yes, thank you Agnes.” Joan reached for the cup and saucer. “It was wrong of me to wager his pistols without his permission, but I don’t understand why he’s so upset. He told me himself that if he kills one more person he’ll end up back in hell. I should have thought he’d be glad to be rid of the things. He said if I tried to wager his rapier he’d use it to make rags of my wardrobe. At least I know what to do when I want a new dress…wake up Mr Smirke. It’s time for tea. You haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. I’m starting to get worried about you.”

  John cracked open one eye, “I’m not speaking to you.”

  “So you say; would you like some bread and butter?”

  John sat up and scowled at his shrieking nieces dangling from their father’s arms. “Give me a piece before those brats eat it all.”

  “Does this mean you’re speaking to me again?”

  “No.” John took the plate of bread without glancing at Joan’s face.

  “Are you going to speak to me tomorrow?”

  “Ask me tomorrow.”

  “I suppose if I get desperate for a kiss I could ask Cecil or George to oblige.”

  Joan calmly sipped her tea as John growled in rage, “You dare kiss any other man while I’m alive and I’ll…I’ll…”

  “You’ll drag me into your arms and make love to me for the rest of the day as a punishment?” Joan reached out and straightened his cravat as John exhaled in relief. “You’re in need of a comb. You look like the wild man I found living at the bottom of a rich man’s garden. Apparently he was paid to sit in a grotto and contemplate…I hope you’d never be so silly as to hire a man to think for you.” John leaned in the direction of the hand brushing crumbs off his lips, “It’s a pity you’re not speaking to me. I was hoping you’d tell me if we’re leaving for London tomorrow.” Joan blushed with pleasure as John kissed her captured fingers and held her gaze before biting into his piece of bread.

  “What were you doing in a rich man’s garden?”

  “I was stealing peaches for a cake. There’s no need to look at me like that. He wasn’t going to eat them; he was in London…besides the wild man said I could have as many as I wanted as long as I returned with a piece of cake.” John opened his mouth to give a belated rebuke when the distant sound of someone knocking on the front door made him lose his train of thought. His sleepy brain noted the curtains were drawn against the cold evening damp; the stillness of the house accentuated by the noisy flames in the grate. He watched the footman carrying in a tray and hoped it wasn’t a note explaining his house had burnt down.

  “Who is it Love?” James kissed his wife’s neck as he leaned over her shoulder. “Oh no, not him…he always talks to me like I’m an idiot. Tell him we all have the plague.”

  “At least you weren’t forced to spend every summer between the ages of fifteen and twenty-one with a parental order to acquire an offer of marriage from the man by any means faire or foul. I never could decide which was worse; having to dance with him every evening or being completely ignored by him all day.”

  “The man’s clearly abnormal.” James reverently bestowed a kiss on his wife’s cheek. “How could any real man ignore such beauty?”

  “Probably because he sees more beauty every morning in his dressing mirror; I can’t snub my cousin. He’s family and nearly as rich as your friend Midas Lovelace, though admittedly not remotely as pleasant. There’s always the chance he’ll die from an unmentionable disease and leave part of his fortune to our angels.”

  “I’ve heard the man spends a fortune on countless bastards. He’s unlikely to have a farthing for mere second cousins.”

  “What’s a bastard Papa?”

  “Well uh…it’s a child born on the wrong side of the blanket.”

  “There’s a wrong side to a blanket?” James took out his snuff box and started fiddling with the lid.

  “Which side is the wrong side Papa?”

  “What happens if we use the wrong side of the blanket?”

  “Will we become bastards?”

  “James, do think before speaking in front of the children. The next time Nursey takes them to the park they’ll be sure to say the word to every old woman they meet.”

  “We won’t say bastard will we?”

  “No, we might not get any pudding.”

  “You see Agnes, they’re very sensible for their age and they’ve been very good this week, haven’t you my angels?”

  “Yes Papa.”

  John shook his head in disgust, “They’ve put jam in my favourite slippers, salted the sugar bowl, smashed Grandmother’s stoneware spaniels and eaten my secret stash of lemon drops; angelic they are not.”

  “Really John, you make my little girls sound like fiends.”

  “Uncle John doesn’t like us…sniff…”

  “He thinks we’re wicked…sniff…”

  “He’s just jealous he’s not your Papa.”

  “Don’t make me laugh.”

  The footman cleared his throat, “Do you wish to receive the gentleman Madam?”

  “Bring Mr Nielson up…” John went rigid as the hateful name sent painful spasms through his nerves and recalled the taste of blood and tears. The beautiful giant had pummelled him black and blue in April in revenge for a friend. John’s impulsive skirmish with Lord Royston had cost a large dose of humiliation and now he’d have to be kind to the brute. The thought made John’s stomach tighten in a knot.

  “Mr Smirke…are you having a turn, you look pale. I think you should lie down…”

  “I’m in perfect health.”

  “Then why are you talking through your teeth?”

  “It feels good.” John took a large bite of bread and butter and chewed on his rage. “Mr Neilson fancies himself a gallant knight in wool and leather. He’ll probably see you and concoct some scheme to save you from my kisses. The brute hates me.”

  “But I don’t want to be saved from…” Joan’s mouth fell open as she was momentarily blinded by the visitor stepping into the room. John’s moan of despair went unheard as Joan returned the visitor’s smile.

  “Cousin Agnes, James…you’re very kind to receive me so late. These must be the matching angels Mother is always writing about. They do take after Grandmother. Bless me; I wouldn’t have known they were Smirkes.”

  “They have my black eyes.” James’s emphatic tone was less than congenial.

  “So they do.” The girls, balancing on the edge of the sofa returned Neilson’s calm smile with equally calm smiles that would have alarmed the servants. “I see your little brother is still alive. Is he wearing red or has someone poked him full of holes trying to steal away the lovely young thing sitting next to him?”

  “John, do you wish to present your ward to my cousin?”

  “I’d rather present my fist to his nose.”

  “John is recovering from another duel and has not yet regained use of his social skills. Miss Joan Lark may I present my cousin Mr Robert Neilson?”

  Joan jumped up and gave an enthusiastic curtsey. “How do you do Mr Neilson?”

  “I do very well Miss Lark. How could I not in a room blessed with such beauty and charm?”

  John affected a loud gagging noise, “Save your tiresome flattery for lonely unprotected women Neilson. Miss Lark is shortly to nest permanently in my arms as my wife. She loves me. Don’t you Miss Lark?”

  Robert Nielson’s eyes went wide with disbelief, as the blushing Meissen shepherdess broke free of his spell and plonked down half an arms length from the black eyed devil and affectionately ruffled his hair, “I adore my wicked Mr Smirke.” John’s burning black eyes and lopsided grin vaporised Neilson’s affe
ct. The two lovers swayed towards each other and lowered their voices, “You’re not still angry with me?”

  “Are you going to keep staring at that big conceited looby with your mouth open?”

  Joan blushed with pleasure at his jealous tone, “No.”

  “Then I’m not angry.”

  Joan sighed with pleasure as she lent her smooth cheek against a soft bristled cheek and whispered, “I’m in desperate need of a kiss Mr Smirke. I can barely remember my morning ration.”

  “How do you think I feel? I had to spend all afternoon with a chamber pot for company and when I could finally leave it they told me you were out shopping. If I don’t get a kiss soon I swear I’ll die of deprivation.”

  “That’s one of the things I love about you Mr Smirke, you’re an enthusiastic guardian.”

  “If I grow any more enthusiastic my heart’s going to burst from my chest.”

  “Oh Mr Smirke…you do love me. That makes you a thousand times more beautiful than Mr Neilson.” John forgot to breathe as the words permeated his chest and burrowed safely into his frantic innards. He closed his eyes and relished the strange pleasurable ache in his stomach, oblivious that the room contained anyone other than woman pressing her lips to his ear.

  Robert Neilson’s eyes swung from the engrossed couple to silently demand an explanation from his cousin Agnes, but she shrugged her shoulders, “Where are you two going?”

  “We’re going to sit with Cousin Robert.”

  “Your cousin doesn’t want cake all over his trousers.”

  Robert smiled at the frightening little girls and told himself to pretend they were two of his own, “I love children. My cousins can sit next to me if they wish.”

  Robert’s calm smile wobbled as the identical daemons clawed their way onto his knees. They both smiled in unison as they leaned towards their quarry. “If we promise to be good…”

  “…will you leave us money in your will?”

  Robert glanced at Agnes for help, but she was filling a plate for her husband, “Uh…if you’re really good I’ll leave you a thousand each.”

  “A thousand?”

  “Is that all?”

  “Twenty thousand is a better number. Uncle Midas gave us each twenty thousand pounds when we were born as dowries and he’s not even dead…”

  “We love Uncle Midas. He always brings us sweets. Did you bring us sweets?”

  “I’m afraid I have no sweets, and with Midas Lovelace as Godfather, you won’t need my money. There are many less fortunate…people who rely on me to take care of them and who depend upon me for their dowries, but if you’re good I’ll leave you each a thousand.”

  “You mean you have to take care of your bastards?” Robert’s smile chilled as he cursed himself for thinking the daemons could be anything other than Smirkes. “Papa says you have lots of bastards.”

  “Your Papa has been very naughty.”

  “Our Papa is never naughty!”

  “No, he always gets his pudding.”

  “Go eat your cake or I won’t leave you a penny.” Robert pushed the two off his knees and muttered under his breath, “Horrid Smirkes.” Robert’s desire to save the Meissen shepherdess was reinforced. “Agnes, you can’t sit there and allow that devil to devour an innocent.”

  “Miss Lark is a penniless orphan Robert. She could do far worse than marry the devil.”

  James gave his wife a hurt expression, “Agnes, you know it upsets me when you refer to my brother as the devil.”

  “Is Uncle John the devil Papa?”

  “No he is not the devil.”

  “Agnes, you are an infinitely sensible creature. You know what John Smirke is like. You can’t let that child be chained to him. There must be something you can do.”

  Agnes raised an eyebrow, “Your concern for the girl is commendable Robert, but Joan does not wish to be saved.”

  “Joan has no need to be saved from my brother Cousin Robert. John is a far better man than his enemies would have the world believe. He may not be perfect, but then I dare say neither are you.”

  Agitated, Robert crossed his legs, “Your good opinion of your brother must be proof of…of…your good faith Cousin James, but I’m afraid your brother is not the man you think he is.”

  “Indeed?” James started cracking the knuckles on his right hand. “How so?”

  “I’m afraid there are many who could prove that your brother is no gentleman.”

  “And who are these wretches who defame my brother?”

  “You must take my word as a gentleman that many men and women have suffered at your brother’s hand. How can you not know it? Every time he walks into a room half the occupants leave; he’s a social pariah.”

  “So the ton do not care for his violet and lemon scent…sniff…I don’t much care for yours either.”

  Robert’s calm smile wavered, “There’s no need to get personal Cousin James. I’m merely professing my concern for the girl’s well being.”

  “Are you? I wonder what would have happened to Joan had her father left her in your care these past six months. I dare say she’d be holed up in some forgotten village calling herself Mrs Smith with an increasing waistline and an appetite for two.”

  Robert’s eyes narrowed, “You question my honour Mr Smirke?”

  “Where women are concerned I doubt you know what the word honour means Mr Neilson. I’m surprised Agnes survived her youthful summers in your parents’ home without ending up in a convent.”

  “What’s a convent Papa?”

  “Does it have lots of pudding?”

  Blood thundered through Robert Neilson’s neck, “I have never forced my attentions on any woman unlike your dear brother. Miss Lark is in grave danger and you are too blind with family pride to see it.”

  “If you don’t take your leave Sir, you’ll be in grave danger of being blinded by my fist.” Agnes calmly sipped her tea and bid a silent farewell to any hope of her children inheriting a penny from their wealthy cousin. As she agreed with both men, it was pointless to enter the fray.

  “Someone has to save the girl.”

  “Joan neither needs nor desires saving Mr Neilson and even if she did John has no intention of letting her go. My good friend Midas Lovelace caused a scene in the Pump Room this afternoon by offering one hundred thousand pounds for the girl’s wardship. A sensible man wouldn’t turn down that kind of money unless he was in love.”

  “Smirke turned down one hundred thousand pounds? For the girl?”

  “I told you; he loves her.”

  “John Smirke can’t possibly be in love.”

  “Look at him. He’s so overcome by her nearness he can’t even hear us. If that isn’t love I don’t know what is.”

  “The fact your brother is willing to forego a fortune to legally satisfy his lust doesn’t prove he’s in love, merely that he’s lost his mind. He’s clearly insane.”