Mary and the Marquis

by Janice Preston

  Lucas felt another shift inside, as though the solid ice in his heart had thawed some more. ‘I hope so too, Rob.’ He coughed to clear an unaccountable constriction in his throat. ‘I have much to thank you for.’

  ‘It is Mrs Vale who is most deserving of your gratitude, Lucas, for if she had not found you...indeed, had she passed you by then all the medical skill in the world could not have saved you. And, as I said, it was she who bartered for my services. She is a most resourceful young woman and a good one too.’

  ‘I am well aware of the debt of gratitude I owe to Mary.’

  ‘I hope you will keep it in mind, in the days to come.’

  Lucas paused. What did Rob know that he did not?

  ‘Why? What might happen, to prevent me from remembering it?’

  ‘I...er...I meant...’ Rob’s cheeks reddened. ‘Oh, you know what you can be like, Lucas. She has been a breath of spring in this household. Do not allow your pride to...to...’ His chest swelled as he inhaled. ‘I meant, I wonder if you will find it difficult to countenance a woman helping with estate affairs.’

  There was more than that behind Rob’s words, for certain. Ever since Mary’s arrival, Lucas had the strongest feeling something was being kept from him. What it might be, to involve the whole of his household in the conspiracy, he could not begin to imagine.

  ‘I will try to accept her assistance with my usual equanimity,’ was all he said.

  No doubt he would find out the truth of it in time.

  Chapter Seven

  Mary tilted her face towards the sun, lying low now in the sky compared to midsummer. She closed her eyes, its heat warming her skin, despite the sporadic breeze that punched at the ragged clouds and snatched at her skirt. The scent of late-flowering roses perfumed the air and the hum of bees lent a somnolent backdrop of sound to the vibrant chirrup of ground-hugging dunnocks and the intermittent, exuberant notes of a song thrush.

  She could hear the children’s excited chatter as they picked beans with Susan in the nearby kitchen garden and her heart swelled at the joyful sound. She would give anything to remain safe and secure at the Hall, where Toby and Emily were happy and thriving.

  Her daydream slammed to an abrupt halt as reality intruded. She had seen the proof in the ledgers that the estate was barely able to support its existing occupants. Every extra mouth to feed would further diminish the scant resources. And she came with two additional mouths to provide for.

  Then there was the danger Lucas posed to both her peace of mind and her self-respect. Even his name set a quiver dancing through her. Since his fever had abated, whenever she was in his presence she could sense his gaze upon her. She had glimpsed the desire in those ebony eyes, heard the undercurrent of seduction in his tone, had successfully parried the suggestiveness in his words.

  But, oh, how she wanted him!

  Despite everything: despite her common sense; despite him being all she despised in a man; despite her being, it seemed, exactly what he wouldn’t want in a woman. But she knew from experience pure physical attraction would never be enough for her. And there was his antipathy towards children. In their short lives, Toby and Emily had already experienced the callous indifference of their own father.

  She gave herself a mental shake and hurried towards the walled kitchen garden, to help gather the last of the beans for Mrs Lindley to salt for the winter.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Vale.’

  Mary started and straightened up, peering through the foliage to see the neat figure of Dr Preece on the far side of the row of beans.

  ‘Good afternoon, Doctor.’ She placed the beans she had picked into her basket and dusted her hands, then walked to the end of the row. Susan, Toby and Emily were at the other side of the garden and had not yet seen the doctor. ‘How is his lordship?’

  ‘He is recovering well, but is already bored with being confined to bed. You’ll have quite some task in keeping him content, I fear, for he is already agitating to get up. It is vital he rests and recoups his strength, so I have advised him to stay in bed another two days, but it is imperative he does not attempt the stairs until he is much stronger. And I wish you luck in persuading him against that.’

  He grinned and then fell silent.

  ‘Have you more instructions?’ Mary asked after a few minutes.

  The doctor started. ‘Oh, I do beg your pardon. Of course, you must wonder why I have sought you out. I saw you from the window as I made my way to the kitchen. I have come to ask you a favour.’

  ‘A favour?’

  ‘Yes, I...’ The doctor looked around as Susan, Toby and Emily approached. ‘Hello, young Toby, and how are you this fine day?’ He squatted down to speak to Toby, who beamed.

  ‘Hello, Mr Doctor. Look...’ Toby thrust his half-full basket under the doctor’s nose ‘...I’ve been working. Em’ly’s too young.’ He grabbed at his sister’s basket and tipped it upside down, scattering the handful of straggly beans on the ground.

  As Emily’s face puckered Mary rushed to hug her into her skirts, muffling her cries.

  ‘Toby, that is unfair. Emily has worked hard too. Pick them up and put them back into Emily’s basket.’

  ‘But, Mama...’

  ‘Toby...’ Mary bent a stern look on her son and he hastened to do as she bid whilst she hoisted a hiccupping Emily on to her hip, soothing her. She exchanged a rueful smile with the doctor.

  ‘Do your children squabble, Doctor?’ Mary asked as they started to walk back to the house.

  ‘Indeed they do, they drive poor Jenny demented at times.’

  ‘She is with child again, is she not? When is it due?’

  ‘In November. And that brings me neatly back to that favour I would ask of you. I wonder, might you call upon Jenny, with Toby and Emily, some time soon? It would entertain the children to have new playmates and I am certain Jenny would welcome your company.’

  ‘That would be delightful. I should imagine I, too, will be in need of some female company after spending so much time with Lord Rothley.’

  The doctor laughed. ‘I should think you will. I will speak to Jenny and we will find a suitable time for you both.’

  At the kitchen door, Dr Preece tipped his hat. ‘I won’t come in. Good day to you, Mrs Vale, Susan.’ He smiled at Emily and ruffled Toby’s hair. ‘Goodbye, you two. Be good for your mama.’

  * * *

  Mary hesitated outside Rothley’s bedchamber, reluctant to face him after the way she had fled earlier. One hand balanced his supper tray whilst the fingers of the other feathered the door handle. She inhaled, steeled herself, then opened the door and walked into the room. She pasted a smile on to her face and injected a cheeriness she did not feel into her voice.

  ‘I have a treat for you, my lo—sir.’

  ‘Do not speak to me as though I were a child to be cajoled or an invalid to be humoured.’

  Mary put the tray down before facing Rothley. He was propped up against his pillows, arms folded. The candlelight reflected in his ebony eyes and flickered over his lean features, highlighting his dark-shadowed jaw. Nerves stirred deep in her belly, or was it the flicker of desire? She determined not to succumb to his allure. That would make her no better than a... She cut off that line of thought before it took hold.

  ‘Mrs Lindley has prepared some chicken broth for your supper,’ she said, ignoring his grumbled comment. She bustled towards him, careful not to meet his gaze. ‘Let me help you to sit up straighter. I make no doubt you will prefer to feed yourself, now you are stronger.’

  As Mary helped Rothley to lean forward so she could plump his pillows she heard a strangled noise. She peered into his face. ‘Are you quite well?’ At the sight of his expression she jerked back, a blush heating her cheeks. It was obvious he was stifling laughter.

  He shifted himself back in the bed until his back rested against the pillows, grinning. ‘You are as transparent as the air itself, Mary. Yes, I shall feed myself, if it will make you more comfortable.’

>   She was again aware he followed her every move as she collected the tray. This time she recalled his injured thigh and placed the tray next to him, on the bed. Before she could move away, he captured her hand, closing his strong fingers around hers. She stilled. She could not struggle without the risk of upsetting the tray. He squeezed her hand gently.

  ‘Look at me, Mary. Please.’

  Warily, she raised her eyes. His expression was contrite.

  ‘Earlier today I implied something about your past that caused you distress. I have had time to consider my words and I apologise. I do not know you well, but that cannot excuse my suspicions or my voicing of them. I also regret the offer I made. I spoke without thought. I am sorry I offended you.’ He cocked his head, raising his brows. ‘Am I forgiven? If you are to continue to nurse me whilst I am confined to this accursed bed, it will be more comfortable for us both if we can cry friends.’ He smiled winningly, then released her hand, picked up his spoon and began to eat.

  Mary’s stomach performed a slow somersault as she backed away. Rothley in a conciliatory mood was hard to resist. She almost wished for the flirtatious rogue again—it was far easier to harden her heart against him. But her innate honesty compelled her to meet his apology halfway, for she was aware her choice of words had been partly to blame for his interpretation of what she had told him.

  ‘Of course we may be friends. I, too, have been thinking and I can see how my words might have been misconstrued and taken to have a different meaning to the one intended. I am sorry for my outburst, but I was upset that you might think me capable of...of...well, as you say, you barely know me, so why should you not wonder at my past? Please believe that my work for my late husband’s employer was utterly legitimate. I would never...I wouldn’t...’ She faltered as her voice thickened and she turned away, wrapping her arms around her waist.

  ‘I do believe you, Mary. I regret reviving such unhappy memories for you. It must be hard to lose someone you care for.’

  She looked over her shoulder at Rothley, who was regarding her with sympathy. She swallowed past the sudden tears that threatened. She would never admit to another soul that she had grieved more for old Mr Wendover than she had for her own husband..

  Nor would she reveal Simon Wendover’s attempt to force her to become his mistress in order to keep a roof over her children’s head and food in their bellies. He had not made his demand until three months after the death of his father, by which time she had owed him three months’ rent, with no money to settle her debt. He had threatened her with debtors’ prison if she didn’t pay up—one way or the other.

  The fear he might yet pursue her for the monies still haunted her. She had read the lust in his eyes whenever he saw her, even whilst Michael had still been alive.

  ‘They were difficult times,’ she admitted, facing Rothley again. She garnered her strength. She was no longer the girl who had cowered before her father. She had coped with Michael as his body and mind had fallen victim to the lure of alcohol and she had resisted the lust-filled intimidation of her landlord. She would not be cajoled into talking about matters she would rather conceal. ‘I should prefer not to dwell upon them, if you do not object.’

  * * *

  He did object. He wanted to know more. He wanted to know all about her late husband—Michael—and this employer. Had he coerced her? Or had he truly been a benefactor, as Mary would have him believe? With difficulty, Lucas stifled his instinct to probe further, recognising the finality in her tone, the determination in her stance. He directed his attention to his supper as Mary settled into the wingback chair by the fire. Not, he noted, next to the bed. She seemed determined to maintain a safe distance between them.

  ‘I gather you have a talent for finance?’ he said, between mouthfuls.

  ‘I would not call it a talent, precisely, but I am good with figures. I...I hope you do not object, but I have been assisting Mrs Lindley with the household accounts. She was working herself into quite a fluster over them.’

  ‘Hmm, so I understand.’

  Mindful of Rob’s earlier words, Lucas tamped down his irritation over Mrs Lindley involving Mary in his finances. He should forget his pride, for it was not his stewardship that had driven the estate close to bankruptcy and, against his natural instincts, he knew he must confide in Mary if he was to win her co-operation in overseeing the accounts during his recovery.

  ‘I also understand you and the doctor have discussed the payment of his account. He was about to tell me about your arrangement, but somehow we were diverted from the subject and I still do not know the details.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Well, I hope you will approve, but I suggested the estate might provide the doctor with firewood for the winter and, if that is insufficient, a supply of mutton until his account is settled.’

  ‘Thank you, Mary. That is indeed a splendid suggestion.’

  Lucas felt some of the pressure on him ease at Mary’s idea. The approaching Quarter Day was never far from his thoughts—he would need all the coin he could muster to settle with Quartly. If only he could be up and about. There was so much to do. His nerves vibrated in frustration.

  ‘As I am confined to this wretched bed for another day...’

  ‘Another two days, the doctor said...’

  ‘Hmmph. We shall see. Rob’s an old woman, always fussing...and I’m bored.’

  Mary frowned, her lips thinning.

  ‘What have I said to displease you now, Sensible Mary?’ Lucas could have bitten his tongue as soon as Mary’s nickname passed his lips. He knew she disliked it. Why, at the very time he needed her goodwill, could he not have been more circumspect?

  ‘Why do men always attribute undesirable characteristics to the female of the species? You might as well have said, Rob’s an old man, always fussing. Women do not have a monopoly on fussing.’

  Lucas stared at Mary in surprise as she sat poker straight in the chair, her lips tight.

  ‘I apologise. You are correct, of course, but...I have to confess I am puzzled by your vehemence. It is a common enough saying. Did my words touch a raw nerve?’

  Mary’s cheeks bloomed pink and her shoulders slumped as a sigh huffed through her pursed lips. ‘No, it is I who should apologise. I overreacted.’

  ‘But why should those words anger you? I am aware I do not know you well, but I had not thought you to be of a confrontational nature.’

  ‘I am not, in general.’ She fell silent. Lucas watched as conflicting emotions chased across her expressive features. ‘My late husband, he would often accuse me of being an old woman and of fussing over nothing, whenever I tried...if I tried...well, it does not matter now. It can be of no interest to you...’

  Lucas wondered what she was not saying. It sounded as though she had not been entirely contented with her husband. A ripple of satisfaction coursed through him, to his surprise. Why should he care if her marriage was happy or not?

  The silence yawned again between them and Lucas was aware that Mary, fidgeting with her fingers, was finding it awkward. It was a tactic that had stood him in good stead over the years: stretch the silence and you learn things you otherwise would not. Many people became uncomfortable with gaps in a conversation and felt compelled to fill them.

  ‘Please do not call me that again.’ Mary stood and crossed to the window. She stared out into the night for a moment or two, then turned to face Lucas.

  ‘I beg your pardon? What is it you do not want me to call you?’

  ‘Sensible.’

  A laugh escaped his lips before he could stop it. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh, but...are you not sensible? Would you rather be thought of as non-sensible?’

  ‘That is not what I mean, as you are well aware. You are being deliberately provoking.’ Mary approached the bed, determination in every line of her body, and stared earnestly at Lucas. ‘I should prefer it if you would not call me “Sensible Mary.”’

  ‘You do not appreciate your nickname?’

  �
�I do not.’

  ‘Did your husband call you by it, as well as accusing you of fussing?’

  ‘As I said before, I do not wish to dwell upon the past.’

  ‘You do not consider the epithet “sensible” a compliment?’

  ‘But it is not meant as a compliment, is it? It is uttered in a mocking tone and I am expected to laugh about it. Well, I am not laughing.’

  Lucas remained silent, pondering her words as he finished his broth. How had he managed to upset her when his intention had been to try to coax her into bringing the ledgers to him? She had settled back into the chair by the fire and now gazed into the flames, her hands twisting in her lap.

  ‘I apologise, Mary. I did not intend to annoy or insult you. I promise I will not call you that again.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Lucas waited, but it seemed two could play at the game of silence and, eventually, he said, ‘If you do not wish to talk about your past, will you tell me your plans for your future?’

  ‘I do not have much in the way of plans. When you are recovered, I shall continue my journey. Now, if you are bored, I could read to you. Would you enjoy that?’

  Lucas indicated the pile of books on his bedside table. ‘I can read for myself.’ He might as well broach the subject. Delay would make it no easier. ‘No, what you can do for me, dearest Mary, is bring the ledgers up here to me. I need to make sure...’

  ‘The ledgers are all up to date and the doctor said you are to rest and not to be fretted over business matters.’

  Lucas studied Mary’s earnest expression as she sat forward in the wingback chair. ‘Come and sit by me, Mary,’ he said on impulse. ‘We cannot comfortably talk with the width of the room between us.

  ‘I promise I shall not take advantage of you,’ he added, ‘if that is why you are reluctant to sit by my side.’ He indicated the chair by the bed.

  She stood, then walked slowly towards the bed.

  ‘That is better. Now we can talk in comfort.’

  Mary raised her brows. ‘My reluctance, as you put it, was not for the reason you imagine.’ She removed the tray from the bed and placed it on the table. ‘I chose the chair by the fire for reasons of pure self-indulgence.’