Lily Mine

by Joseph, Annabel

  "A shop, Lily. I did not make that offer in jest. My word is my deed, although we may draw up official papers if you wish."

  "No, you needn't draw up papers. I believe you. It is just such a generous thing to offer."

  He paused. "Well, of course it is not without unselfish origins. You are solving a huge and very embarrassing problem for me," he said with a tight smile.

  She smiled back, even though she felt awfully sad for him. "Did you love her very much?" The question fell from her lips before she could snatch it back. Oh, the pained look on his face, hidden under that veneer of propriety. "I'm sorry, I don't know how I could be so rude to ask such a question. Of course you did. It is only…this is all just…so very--"

  "No, I did not love her," he said roughly. "I may have once, but not anymore."

  "Oh."

  "Women can be so false. Are you a false sort of woman?"

  The sudden stridency in his voice alarmed her and she felt a reckless impulse to confess everything, even the reason her father had sent her away. But then she remembered that men could be terribly false as well. She lifted her chin and infused her voice with calm neutrality.

  "I despise falseness, sir. But you are asking me to be false and play your wife. So I suppose it is neither here nor there."

  He regarded her, and after a moment his lips curved with some small hint of ironic humor. "Yes, it's preposterous, isn't it? I am asking you to be false--to assume the identity of a woman even more false. It's a terrible business." He shook his head. "Truly, I am wishing for my fortunes to change. Perhaps now they will." He squared his broad shoulders and bowed to her. "I'm afraid you have already missed breakfast. Will you come down to luncheon or shall I have Mrs. Gertrude bring it up?"

  Lily hesitated. "I would come down but… I thought perhaps you might first teach me to act like her. I don't know what her preferences were at meals, or how she walked or talked, or how she laughed. Does my voice even sound like hers?"

  "Not much. But fair enough in a pinch. As for the rest, Hanover is the only other servant who knew Lilliana. I'll have him hire new staff straightaway, but they won't know anyone else as Lilliana but yourself. So be yourself. As we go along, if need be, I'll point out some of her particularities."

  He came to her then in a sweep of elegant movement that awed her. He bowed before her and took her hand gently, with great courtesy, before looking into her eyes. "Do not distress yourself. If you are found out, I will take complete responsibility for the farce. You will face no penalty or harm, I promise you. I could not bear it if I thought this was causing you distress."

  She nodded, captured by the intensity of his gaze. He patted her hand.

  "I just want you to be Lily. I will call you Lily, and I, at least, will always know who you are."

  Something in the way he said that made her eyes grow misty. He would know who she was, even when Lily turned into Lilliana. Lilliana, who ran off on her husband and was a liar and bigamist. She would make Lilliana a good wife again, but what of Lily Kendall? She would become an imposter. False.

  "My lord… James…" She swallowed and took a deep breath. "I suppose the two of us can make this work out then. Somehow."

  His smile made something inside her warm and tingly. Oh my.

  * * * * *

  So Lily would stay. A blessing of circumstances, James thought as he watched her from across the table. They ate in the formal dining room, served by Hanover, who was relieved to hear he could head into town afterward and re-hire for the house. James told him to go to Tunbridge and not Smeeth. No one at Tunbridge would remember Lily or Lilliana.

  He watched her from the length of the table. Everything she did seemed novel to him. The way she handled her utensils, the self-conscious way she looked up at him. The way she poured milk in her chocolate, a treat she had exclaimed over, all the rigid role-playing falling away. Did commoners believe the gentry were stiff as all that? Or did she just think him stiff? She had immediately covered her mouth as if she'd misspoken, but he wanted her to yell to the rafters about the treat of drinking chocolate if that's how she felt. In truth, he felt a growing fondness for her that alarmed him.

  Well, why not feel fond? It was a wondrous thing to have company again. He had eaten in here so many weeks now by himself, rattled around the stuffy country manor, a lonely cuckold. Cuckold. An ugly and humiliating word, even if you were not truly cuckolded because your marriage was fraudulent in the first place. The effect was the same.

  Why was she sitting so far away? The table was yards long, and they at either end of it. No wonder she thought him stuffy. He had not said so much as a word to her as they dined, for nerves. The only sound to break the stultifying silence was the occasional clink of china and the never-ending pitter-pat of late summer rain. Even if they had something to talk about, they would have had to shout to be heard.

  He would tell Hanover to set places next to one another from now on so they could converse together. There were things that needed to be discussed before the new household staff arrived in the days ahead. Lily was making a good go of impersonating the lady of a manor, but no experienced servant would be fooled. As much as it galled him, he would have to tell her all he could about Lilliana. It was only fair to do so if he expected her to impersonate her convincingly.

  When they finished dining, he ushered her around Lilyvale on his arm. He showed her every room, every hall, every stairwell. They toured the kitchens and servants' quarters, and by the end of their explorations she seemed more at ease. By then the rain had stopped and he led her along stone paths to some of the outbuildings. He avoided the stables for fear he might embarrass her with memories of the night before. He showed her the garden and greenhouse, and again found himself charmed by her awe and excitement at the manicured grounds he very much took for granted. She flitted through the plants and flowers, many going to ruin since the grounds staff had been dismissed weeks ago. She turned to look back at him with bright eyes and a solemn smile.

  "I can save these plants, my lord. If you wish it."

  "Of course I wish it. I will not deny you the gardens. Please consider them your own. I will hire an army of gardeners to assist you."

  She smiled wide, made an endearing attempt at schooling her expression to something more proper, and then gave up, much to his relief. He much more enjoyed seeing the true Lily coming alive before him in fits and spurts. He suspected she had a bit more pluck and sass than she'd let on in their interactions so far.

  From the garden, he'd led her fresh-faced and breathless up to the library. Mrs. Gertrude brought them tea, going on about how pleased she was to see the "newlybirds loving again." Lily's blush had been nearly as entertaining as Mrs. Gertrude's prattle. The old housekeeper's dementia seemed to come and go in fits. One day she might realize this Lily was an imposter, but for the moment she seemed blissfully unaware and asked no questions at all about her sudden reappearance after many weeks gone. At long last Mrs. Gertrude chirped and blustered out, closing the door behind her.

  Lily peeked at him, looking embarrassed. "This morning, when I woke, she misunderstood why I was in the far room. I think she assumed you and I had some type of…disagreement last night."

  "I thought so, from her comments. It was kind of you to grant her some latitude in her confusions."

  Lily nodded and looked around the library. He wondered how it looked through her eyes. He hadn't as many books as some, but probably more than most. Volumes of poetry, biographies, histories and fictions. There were books he had purchased to woo or entertain Lilliana, and even books he kept hidden away on the uppermost shelves so as not to shame a lady's more delicate sensibilities. Now that Lily was here he supposed he ought to move them to a trunk up in the attic lest she stumble across them. Wouldn't that be a lark? She was still blushing now, over Mrs. Gertrude's intimation they were "newlybirds." God forbid she would delve into his more perverse volumes.

  But part of him wished he could share them with a woman. He had
imagined sharing some of the stories with his bold Lilliana. Erotic accounts of naughty chambermaids dallying with virile footmen, or whimsical tales of courtesans treated as exotic pets. There were tales, too, of ravishment and debasement, of slave girls and fallen women. There were tales of erotic torments and punishments that set blood pounding in his veins. But none of them were tales he should dwell on in a lady's presence. He made a mental note to remove the books to a secret location later, and set about fetching paper and a quill. He put the writing implements before Lily at the table and sat across from her at the desk.

  "I hope you will feel at home here in my library. You are welcome to enjoy any of the books. I believe I may even have some volumes on horticulture."

  "Thank you, my lor…er…James. You have an amazing collection."

  "Now, I thought you might take some notes about Lilliana. Her family, her birthday, her likes and dislikes, the important things someone would expect her to know."

  "I will try to consign it all to memory as well as I can."

  "If you note it now, you can study it at your leisure. It will be some time before we are around her friends and family in London."

  Lily had the oddest look, blushing and rueful. "I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot write. Nor read," she added, staring down at the stationery before her.

  James, you utter dolt. Most people of her station weren't literate. How ridiculous he must have looked putting the pen and paper before her and offering her his books.

  "No matter," he said crisply, whisking the items away. "Please pardon me. It was not my intention to embarrass you."

  "You didn't embarrass me. I did learn a little from my mother, but then she died and… I'm only sorry I can't read and write, because otherwise I could take notes and study them as you say. And enjoy all the books you've collected."

  He thought at once that he would hire a reading tutor along with all the other household help, and then realized how odd it would seem for his wife to be incapable of reading. His next thought was that he would teach her himself. He gave her a sidelong glance.

  "Perhaps, if you do not find it too presumptuous, I might tutor you in reading and writing. If the idea appeals."

  "Really, you would?"

  "If you wish, I would be happy to. I make no claims as to my capabilities at the task, but I will try my best to help you master it. It's not actually that complicated."

  "Oh, I would be so grateful. You have no idea how much I would love to be able to read and write."

  "Perhaps in the evenings we can have lessons. I spend most of my evenings here anyway, over books and chess. Do you play chess?"

  "Yes, that I can do," she said proudly. "I've not much experience at it but I do know how it's played. Father kept a set at home and whenever I got a chance I took a turn at it."

  "When you had a chance? Do you come from a large family?"

  "Not so large. There were five of us girls."

  "Were?"

  "There are," she corrected. "Only I am not--well--I am not welcomed at home anymore by my father. I caused him to lose his gardening position with a wealthy household of London. He was rightfully cross."

  He watched the emotions play across her face. Sadness, shame, regret. He felt a sudden impulse to hug her in sympathy. What mistake had she made, to be cut off from her entire family? A miscalculation, the wrong plants planted? A poor crop of tulips? A basket of berries too tart or sour? He couldn't imagine a genteel, amiable girl like Lily committing any more serious a crime. And yet here she was, disowned and alone. "I am sorry. Perhaps in time he will reconsider and welcome you home again."

  She shrugged. "Perhaps." Her tone made it sound as if the possibility were remote indeed.

  "Let me tell you about Lilliana, then." He forged ahead, wanting to change the subject and hopefully dispel the gloom on her face. "Remember what you can. Perhaps there is really not so much to know."

  He began by outlining her immediate family. Her father was Gerald, Lord Holt. Her mother Evangeline, Lady Holt. Younger sister Claire, older brothers Hiram, William, and Lawrence, along with their various titles. When her eyes began to cloud over in hopelessness he told her the titles were not so important to learn right off. He told her Lilliana's favorite color, yellow, and her favorite authors and composers. By a stroke of luck, Lilliana had been too flighty and bookish to learn an instrument, although she had a beautiful and renowned voice.

  "Can you sing?" he asked Lily.

  "Oh, sir." Lily sighed in dismay.

  He chuckled. "I suppose that is a 'no.' Well, if asked to sing, you can always claim a sore throat. Buck up, dear girl. We will make do. I believe you are a quick enough thinker to pull this off."

  "I hope so."

  He went on, telling this or that of import, and Lily took it all in with those solemn green eyes that looked just like Lilliana's. She was so attentive and so pleasant to speak with that James was surprised when Hanover arrived to announce dinner. Time, which had dragged for weeks now, was suddenly moving along at a much more cheerful clip.

  * * * * *

  Lily sat to Lord Ashbourne's right at dinner, rather than a table away as at lunch. She watched him, mimicking his manners, because she was certain her own were nowhere near up to snuff. But if he noticed her hesitations and gaffes at fine dining, he did not react in any negative way, and she was grateful for that.

  Later, he invited her into the parlor for chess. Lily was delighted, although she soon understood that she knew only the very rudiments of the game. Lord Ashbourne clearly played by some strategy. He took her queen quickly and then re-played the game for her, showing where she'd made missteps. Lily tried to concentrate, although it wasn't easy when he was so close and his eyes so blue and warm.

  They played again and Lily did slightly better, although he still defeated her easily. Lily stifled a yawn and Mrs. Gertrude came to help her to bed. There was an awkward moment when the old woman stubbornly led her to Lord Ashbourne's chamber despite Lily's quiet protestations. She brought water for washing and laid out Lily's nightclothes, although Lily would not have dreamed of undressing in his room.

  Instead she stood by the window for nearly half an hour, too afraid to leave and be beset upon by Mrs. Gertrude. She used the time to look around his chamber. There was a large bed with luxurious covers of blue and gold velvet, a good amount of ornate furniture, trunks and armoires she assumed were full of his clothing and things. When at last she decided she simply must creep away to another bedroom, the door swung open. Again Lily was caught in a place she did not belong.

  "Mrs. Gertrude led me here," she explained quickly, going to his bed to gather up the filmy, lacy nightclothes before he saw them.

  "Yes. Lilliana slept here. While she was here with me, anyway, which was admittedly not very long." He frowned. "It is a problem. There is no bed in Lilliana's room. I was determined she and I would not have one of those marriages where we slept in separate rooms and I crept off to prostitutes every night." He stopped. "Pardon me. What an uncouth subject to discuss."

  "I think that was most admirable of you," Lily said. "It's what I would have preferred if I had been a married lady. I think it is better for husbands and wives to be close. To be in love even. Not that I know anything about it," she added, embarrassed. How droll of her to opine about the best way to be married when she was bound for certain spinsterhood.

  But he smiled at her, and it was not a mocking smile. "Are you a romantic, Lily?" His gaze was so warm and fond, it made something inside her react. She clasped her hands together to still their trembling. It was only natural that he should affect her, wasn't it? They had spent the entire day together becoming familiar, becoming friends of a sort. He hadn't gone out of his way to make her feel like a commoner either, not for one moment. She smiled back at him.

  "I am a hopeless romantic."

  By the soft light of the fire he regarded her, the flames illuminating the muted flecks of gold in his dark hair. "It is a shame I've spent the entire da
y telling you about Lilliana, and learned nothing of Lily in return."

  He teased her now. Perhaps he even flirted, wonder of wonders. Because it wasn't true. He had learned many things about her--that she couldn't read and write, that she loved Lilyvale's gardens, that she was not adept at chess. That she was not very convincing yet at playing the highborn lady. She had even confided in him about her family affairs. Well, about everything but that. She couldn't tell him about that. But she was no longer afraid of the same coarse treatment at his hands. He'd treated her with nothing but kindness and respect. Even now, in his bedroom, she felt safe, but she knew it was terribly inappropriate for her to be here, pretend wife or not.

  She moved toward the door. "I should not disturb you further if you wish to retire, my lord."

  "You are not disturbing me. Well, aside from your habit of addressing me as 'my lord.' But I suppose we are still somewhat strangers in an intimate way."

  A very intimate way… "Yes, I suppose."

  He cleared his throat and his face changed, became more serious. "Lily, I would prefer if you slept in the adjoining room after the staff arrives, rather than the guest room. For appearances, you know. I will order a bed to be brought there at once."

  "Oh, no. Please don't trouble yourself. I will sleep on the divan in there. It is very sumptuous and quite large enough."

  "I wouldn't hear of it. You'll need a proper bed."

  "It is no great thing. I could even use a pallet on the floor."

  He laughed. "Now that would set tongues wagging, having the servants prepare a pallet on the floor each night for Lady Ashbourne."

  "I could prepare it myself after the servants withdrew."

  "Next you will be offering to bed down in the stables again." His quip silenced her, reminded her of her place.

  "Whatever you wish. It is all preferable to the stables for me."