Smirke 01 - An Unlikely Hero

by Cari Hislop

  Joan sniffed as a large single tear shimmered in her right eye, “Oh Mr Smirke…you said it with such conviction…I need a kiss.”

  “Stop talking and repeat your lines.” He lowered his voice, “I can’t wait another day to kiss my wife.”

  “Just a small kiss…”

  The vicar rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers, “The kiss comes at the end. Stop kissing and break hands. Miss Lark…take his right hand and repeat after me the exact words I speak and don’t add any of your own…”

  “I Joan Lark…take thee my beautiful John Sebastian Smirke…to have and to hold from this day forward…for better for worse…for richer for poorer especially poorer after I redecorate your London town house. Your Mamma says it’s all black and yellow, I can’t live in a bumblebee.”

  “You’re not going anywhere near Lincoln Inn Fields.”

  “Why not?”

  “Something bad might happen. I couldn’t bear it.”

  “You can’t refuse to take me to London…what sort of husbandly devotion is that?”

  “It isn’t safe…”

  “Life isn’t safe; I want to go to the theatres and see…”

  “There are too many people who hate me. I’m never taking you to London and that’s final.”

  “I can’t believe you’re being horrid in the middle of our marriage vows…”

  “I’m not being horrid; I’m being good.”

  “If you’re going to lock me away I might as well return to that brute Neilson. I refuse to marry a man who won’t take me to London.”

  “Don’t change your mind. I love you. I’m trying to protect you.”

  Joan’s mouth slowly fell open at the magic words, “You love me?”

  “Of course I love you. We don’t have time for this, it’s almost twelve.”

  “Can we visit London in disguise? That would be a great adventure.”

  “We’ll discuss London later; we’re running out of time.”

  “Very well, I accept your offer to take me to London in disguise; what am I supposed to say now? In sickness and in health…to love, I adore my Mr Smirke. Till death us do part…according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my devoted troth.”

  The Vicar rolled his eyes, “Loose your hands…now Mr Smirke, lay your ring upon my book…”

  “Ring? I forgot to get a ring? I can’t take much more; I need to marry her today!” John’s eyes filled with horror as he contemplated facing another night on the sofa and another day when his beloved could be kidnapped and carried off to Gretna Green against her will.

  Joan impulsively kissed John’s cheek as she untied the red ribbon in his hair and put it on the open book, “You shall tie me to your heart Mr Smirke. There’s no law that says we can’t have a ribbon ring…is there Vicar?”

  “Not that I’ve ever heard; your ring Sir.”

  John took the red ribbon, wrapped it around her fourth finger and tied a bow, “God is too good to me…with this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee will most certainly worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the name of the Father, and the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

  “Now if you’ll stop kissing and kneel down I’ll finish…”

  “I can’t kneel; just get on…” John’s brothers took him each by an arm and dropped him on his knees. “Ouch! Oh my aching rump…you heartless wretches…stop laughing, I’m not married yet.”

  “Let us pray…”

  John forgot his aching rump and cold knees as the woman kneeling next to him started to shiver. Without thinking, he struggled out of his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders, winning a silent adoring gaze for his sacrifice. Focused on the ill-fitting yellow dress and the fresh bruises on her face, his fury against Neilson was rekindled, “Where’s your pink dress?”

  “I tore it up and wove it into a rope so I could escape. I was nearly out the window when that brute stopped me.”

  “If you will both now join hands together and say…”

  “You were going to climb out of a window in your chemise? Are you mad?” The words rang all the way to the back of the church where Lyndhurst clenched his teeth. Neilson was going to regret giving into temptation.

  “No, I love you. I had to escape…if I fell to my death at least you would have known I tried to get away.” John Smirke stared up at the ceiling of the church and muttered a petition for strength. He glanced back at the large innocent blue eyes and forgot he was angry.

  “Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder…Forasmuch as Mr Smirke and Miss Lark have consented together in holy Wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.” The tolling bells announcing the mid hour of the day, drowned out the Vicar as he started to read the next blessing before giving up and closing the book as the wicked John Smirke dragged his giggling bride to his heart and claimed her lips.

  The Smirke family’s cheerful banter stagnated as the Duke of Lyndhurst abandoned the shadows and slunk up the aisle like a half starved black cat, too proud to acknowledge the dismay caused by his presence. He stopped behind the kissing couple and grimaced at the sour taste of envy as he leaned on his swordstick, “Should I say congratulations or commiserations?” The deep hypnotic voice penetrated John’s pleasure starved senses and painfully jerked him to his full height. Finding her own feet, Joan squeaked as she was roughly shoved behind her husband’s back in a symbolic gesture of protection. Lyndhurst ignored the pretty blue eyes peering triumphantly over Smirke’s linen shoulder and sneered into two black pools of fear. “She’s a maddening chit, but you will treat her more precious than your own flesh or face my wrath. Mrs Smirke; knowing your groom, I’m afraid I can only wish you early widowhood.”

  “Lyndhurst? What do you care? And what the devil are you doing here?”

  “Seeking redemption; what else would I be doing in a church?”

  Joan tugged her husband’s ear, “Mr Lyndhurst is my fairy-godfather. He saved me from two evil rats and drove me to the church in a magical pumpkin…”

  Lyndhurst’s thin lips twist with grim humour, “More like, fairy-devilfather.”

  Joan ignored the cynical words and pressed her cheek against John’s shoulder, “He appeared out of a cloud of smoke like a bewitched hero and threatened to poke out their eyes if they didn’t let me go. I think he wanted to…”

  “Poke out whose eyes, what are you talking about?”

  “Your bride was dragged into The Hell-hole by several uncouth gentlemen who fancied a new toy. I merely pointed out that that the young lady didn’t wish to play.”

  John sighed with relief and kissed the hand on his shoulder, but the pleasant sensations in his chest were tainted by the horror at finding himself eternally indebted to the Devil’s Corpse. He stared at the pale blue cravat knotted around Lyndhurst’s neck and swallowed a string of curses, “I owe you my life.” The brittle words shattered over the flagstones.

  “Keep your life Smirke, my soul is black enough without your sins. Madam…” He inclined his head to the eyes peering over John’s shoulder, “I wish you much happiness and whatever it is you desire. I hope one day you’ll understand who I really am.” The Duke of Lyndhurst slunk out of the church with a burning need to hold his only friend for comfort. Within minutes of realising he had a daughter she’d become the legal property of John Smirk. Lady Pelham’s revenge was complete.

  John forgot about the ugly man and turned to embrace his bride. John pressed his lips to Joan’s cheek and breathed in the warm feminine scent of heaven, “I couldn’t bear to lose you again.”

  Joan felt her feet leave the ground as her husband pressed his wet eyes into her bare shoulder, “Don’t cry Mr Smirke, the day or at least the morning has a happy
ending. You won’t have to sleep on the sofa and I’ll be able to kiss you awake in the morning. Mr Neilson didn’t hurt me very much, but I can still smell him on this vile dress. Please take me home Mr Smirke, I need to take it off. It’s making me ill.” She shivered as soft lips caressed her throat before tight arms set her back on her feet.

  John loudly sniffed back his tears, “As you wish Mrs Smirke.” He turned his lips to her ear to whisper, “I shall dispense with the maid and kindly undress you myself.”

  Joan was giggling into her husband’s shoulder when James stepped up to the couple, “I hope you’re not going to stand there kissing her all day, I’m hungry.” He kissed Joan’s cheek and laughed at John’s scowl, “Welcome to the family.”

  Smirkes huddled around the newlyweds kissing Joan. “Stop kissing my wife and stop winking at me as if you all have some sort of eye disease. Cosmo; kiss my wife one more time and I’ll punch you.”

  “You’d have to catch me first. I’ll wager anyone all my Christmas money, with his sore rump, Uncle John couldn’t catch me if I hopped away on one leg. I should imagine later this evening he’ll have reason to curse his poor horse again.”

  “Are you going to control your wretched son or do I have to teach him some manners?”

  “Cosmo, stop t-teasing your uncle; he’s had his heart b-broken this morning. When you discover you love a woman and minutes later learn you might never see her again; then you c-can make sport of him.”

  John put his good arm around Joan and pulled her towards the door away from his beautiful nephews all loudly daring each other to kiss Joan on the lips, “I’ve had enough. I’m taking my wife home before she catches a cold or some vile disease.” Mocking laughter followed the newlyweds into the carriage. John was contemplating a pleasurable drive back to his brother’s house when the carriage rocked and the twins climbed in followed by Cosmo, Robert, James and Agnes. With a sullen sneer, John watched his cheerful brother put an amorous arm around Agnes and belatedly caught Cosmo’s puckered lips resting against Joan’s cheek. “Stop kissing my wife! Joan come sit over here on my other knee away from your childish nephews.”

  Joan happily complied causing her husband to wince as her weight strained his rump muscles, “I think Cosmo and Robert are sweet. If I were two years younger…” The two young men flushed pink with pleasure and elbowed each other into silence. The carriage jolted the occupants until at last it shuddered to a stop and a footman could be heard jumping down to unfold the carriage steps. Joan smiled at her husband’s jealous scowl and pinched his cheek.

  His teeth chattering from cold, John watched Joan run into the house still wearing his coat. He elbowed his snickering nephews out of the way and rubbed his backside as he painfully followed. She was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs with a shy smile. He wiped his sweaty palms on the seat of his trousers as his chest throbbed with pleasure, “Allow me to escort you to our room, Mrs Smirke.” John was within inches of his wife’s outstretched hand when his crooked smile twisted with fury as both of his large brothers each gripped one of his arms and kept him from his bride.

  “Mamma! Tell them to leave me alone.”

  “Agnes and Mamma will assist Joan. You’re going to soak your rump and wash the snot off your face.”

  “Mamma…I don’t want to bathe.” Joan watched dumfounded as her husband was forcibly dragged past her up the stairs.

  “We all know what you want Jean Sébastien, but you first need a hot bath.”

  Joan blinked away disappointed tears as her new Mamma firmly led her after the struggling trio, “I don’t think he needs to bathe; I like how he smells…Mr Smirke…”

  “Joan!”

  “You c-can have your wife after you’ve scrubbed up.”

  “I want her now.”

  “You’ll feel b-better after a b-bath.”

  “I’ll feel better after I rearrange your teeth. Let me go…Joan. Help me!”

  “Agnes he needs me.”

  “You don’t want to bed a pleasure starved rakehell with snot on his face.”

  “I suppose if you put it that way…” Joan was gently pushed into her room muffling John’s angry curses on older brothers.

  Chapter 23

  The French ormolu and marble mantel clock finished striking two as John opened Joan’s door and slammed it behind him. His swollen red eyes darted from the large fire to the empty bed in panic, but his tense shoulders relaxed as a fluttering hand sporting a red bow beckoned him towards the window seat. Glowing in cream and gold silk, Joan sat enthroned behind a table barely large enough to hold the tea service. John’s crooked smile at his wife’s low décolletage faltered as a hand knocked on the door behind him. He turned and yanked it open to find Cosmo and Robert half way down the hall snorting with laughter, “Stay away from my door or I’ll…I’ll tell your Papa and he’ll whip you.” Cosmo blew his uncle a rude raspberry before disappearing from sight. John turned the key in the lock and marched across the room as his blushing bride eyed him over a small custard tart.

  “Ah Mr Smirke, you look like a fairytale come to life…The Red Prince. I don’t believe there is such a fairytale, but I could write one for you… Once upon a time there was a lonely Princess who longed to be loved…I smell lemons.”

  John slid onto the window seat and carefully crossed his knees, “My thoughtful brothers decided that you’d have your very own devil in red. The beastly tyrants wouldn’t give me a shirt until I put on my stockings, knee breeches and shoes.” His tone dropped to a hoarse whisper, “I’ve never seen such artful perfection…you ravish me.”

  Joan blushed at her husband’s smouldering gaze, “Is it very wicked for a woman to admire her husband’s legs?”

  John swayed towards his bride, “It must be; I like it.” John was savouring Joan’s custard flavoured lip, his hands blindly groping for her waist when swift uneven pounding on the door pinched his excited nerves and severed him from pleasure. Jerked back to his side of the window in a temper he roared at the door, “Go away Cosmo or you’ll get a lump of coal for Christmas.” The knocking continued accompanied by deep muffled snorts of amusement. “Go away!” John leapt to his feet and hobbled for the door. Three more knocks and footsteps thundered away down the hall. He yanked open the door in time to see his brothers disappearing down the stairs, “Father should have sold you both to the gypsies.” He relocked the door and stomped back to find his bride finishing a sweet biscuit. “I should have been an only child.”

  “Being an only child is boring and lonely. I’m so excited to be your wife…we’re going to have countless adventures. You don’t regret falling in love with me do you?” John forgot he was angry as he slid back onto the cold window seat. His heart purred in contentment as he leaned towards the cornflowers adoring him from under long lashes.

  “Do I look like a man with regrets?”

  “No, you look like a man who wants to…” John leaned across and explored his wife’s breastbone with his lips.

  “Oh. Mr Smirke.”

  “Call me John.”

  “I want to call you Smirkie…why are you scowling? Don’t you like it?”

  “I hate being called Smirkie.”

  “But you’ve never heard me call you Smirkie.” Joan caressed John’s freshly shaved cheek, “I love you Smirkie.”

  John expelled a long irritated breath, “My name is John.”

  “I know, I’ll call you Sébastien…you’ll be my romantic French hero. My Sébastien will save me from the…what would you have to save me from? I can’t think…your eyes are so black I feel I could peer into them and comb my hair…”