ROMANCE: The Surprise That Rocked Me

by Linda Wright

  “Good morning Miss Elizabeth, I’m relieved to see you’re in flawless health. When they said they couldn’t find you in the house I had images of wife-hungry Vikings carrying you away.”

  His apparent wink made her flush pink. “I was embroidering in the orangery.”

  “The orangery? I didn’t think to look there…”

  “I didn’t think anyone would.” The smiling man seemed ignorant to the insinuation that she hadn’t wanted him to find her.

  “At least it occurred to me to look in the wishing well. I was comforted to see you hadn’t fallen in trying to wish for some other fine-looking man to drag you to the altar.” The Earl of Devonshire’s eyebrows lifted instantaneously, causing her cheeks to flush again with horror.

  “I don’t do wishing wells.”

  “What? You’ve never thrown a penny into a well and made a wish”

  “I don’t believe in wishes my Lord”

  “Really?” The man looked taken aback, “Why not?”

  “Why should I? What is the idea of throwing a penny into a well to certify something good happens? It’s pointless; I might as well spit three times on a stone. Wishing is painful and pointless.”

  “You’ve been reading too many depressed novels, Miss Elizabeth.”

  “I don’t read novels my Lord. I read about real people whose depressed lives end in death.” The man puckered his lips as if suddenly worried.

  “It sounds like a few happy endings wouldn’t go awry. Come over here; I want you to make a wish. I’ll give you a penny.”

  “No thank you my Lord; that would be wasting your penny. You should save it and buy…” Half way to the well she slowed her steps, silently wishing the man would drop dead before she gotten to his side.

  “What should I buy with my pennies Miss Elizabeth; an engagement ring?” His eyebrows rose again as if to pest her with the prospect of marriage.

  Reaching the well, Elizabeth barred as she was forced to breath in a lungful of air systematically polluted by several deadly odours. “Sometimes my Lord it’s mostly fair to spend one’s money on oneself. Why not save your pennies and buy a new suit of clothes?” The man smiled in glee, displaying un-brushed teeth that released another foul stench.

  “I wouldn’t waste a penny on just anyone; I insist you make a wish.” Fingers with nails harbouring an unknown brown element dug a penny out of his breeches pocket, and skidded it over the stones towards her. The brown eyes, staring from under a greasy curtain of straight brown hair, suddenly twinkled with genuine concern. “Fate has a share of happiness for everyone Miss Elizabeth.”

  “Not for me, my Lord.”

  “Nonsense. I think fate may have something special stuffed up its sleeve for you. I’ve often found that one man’s ill-luck is another man’s good opulence. You’ve remained unwed a few years longer than a lady would like, but last week’s bad luck may be next week’s good fortune. As a sensitive Lord, I think you’d make a charming little wife.”

  “My Lord, I’m…” She distinctly breathed in through her mouth before continuing. “…aware of the honour you do me…” Elizabeth looked down at the penny, and drew another loud breath.

  “Are you developing a chest complaint? You aren’t tubercular?”

  It was appealing to lie, but her Aunt Angela would easily deduce it. “No.”

  “That’s a relief. Your breathing sounds anxious.”

  “The air is a bit nasty this morning.”

  “I haven’t noticed anything crooked, but my lungs are like brick chimneys.” The dirty finger tapped the coin in front of her. “What will you wish for?” Elizabeth temporarily forgot the man’s awful stink as she stared at the shiny copper penny. What would she wish for; his Lordship to evaporate, or for death to end her misery? What sort of small happiness did she dare wish for? “You look sad Miss Elizabeth. You’re supposed to wish for something happy.”

  “It’ll never happen…” She cautiously moved the soiled penny with the tip of her fingernail towards the edge of the well. “…but I wish to belong someplace.” The penny bounced off the opposite side of the well, and after a long silence, splashed into the water at the bottom. “Are you pleased?”

  “You sound like a lost penny; that’s not a good wish. This is a good wish…” He took another penny from his trouser pocket. “…I wish Miss Elizabeth found me tempting.” He winked at her before propelling the penny over the edge into the depth, where it splashed into the black water below. “Here make another wish, I insist.”

  Elizabeth inhaled another noisy breath as the muddy fingernail left another shiny penny in front of her. “How is wishing to belong someplace not a good wish? I’d be elated to have a home where I was wanted…it would be good enough for me.”

  “It’s too dull. Wishes can’t be dull, or they won’t come true.”

  “Says who; the fairies in your garden?” Elizabeth quivered as rank smelling fingers playfully tugged her earlobe.

  “Now you’re laughing at me Miss Elizabeth. There’s no such thing as fairies. It’s my penny, and I insist you make a happy wish. Never fear, I shan’t put any burden on you to wish for my affections, though feel free to be so daring if you wish.” She knew he was winking, even though her eyes pivoted upwards toward blue sky. Couldn’t God strike her with lighting just once? “What will you wish for?”

  “If I must make a happy wish, I wish to be loved by a man I love.” The second penny followed the same trajectory as the first, and fell into the water with a satisfying trickle.

  “It’s rather cruel to wish for love, since I’d only make him unhappy. I’m the unluckiest woman ever born. He’ll undoubtedly meet me at the altar and be shot dead by a drunken priest.”

  “Well, it was more cheerful than the first one…though you appear to have a morose fear of losing your groom.”

  “My first one died at sea, two weeks before the wedding.”

  “Oh…terribly sorry, and the second?”

  “The second will probably be some drunken cupboard maker who wishes to retire on my two thousand pounds grant. Wishes don’t come true.”

  “You are a lost penny.” The words were gentle as if he was sincerely concerned. “Well you’re in luck, because I collect lost pennies, and I’m not afraid of drunken priests wielding pistols either.”

  “You can’t collect lost pennies; it’s an oxymoron.”

  Her companion giggled in amusement as he tugged her ear again, causing her to blush with irrational pleasure. “Whenever I find a penny I pick it up, wash it, and then sort it into one of several giant glass jars that sit in my entry hall, but I collect all kinds of coins. Have you ever seen a Roman coin?”

  “No.”

  “They’re tiny. It’s hard to believe they once had any value.”

  “Why would anyone collect coins?”

  “Haven’t you ever held an old coin in your hand, and questioned who else might have handled it? What it might have bought over the years?”

  “No.”

  “I do, I often spend my evenings looking at them using one of my magnifying glasses, just wondering what sort of stories they could tell. I admit my penny collecting is a little odd, but they do remind me not to lose my money every time I leave the house.

  “My Lord, you really should take your pennies to your tailor and order a new suit.”

  “I wouldn’t dare take a jar of pennies to the old codger; he’d boot me out the door. I always give him a bank note. That way I don’t have to count out the money. I’m a wealthy man Miss Elizabeth. I don’t need your annuity, I need a pretty wife.”

  “You? Wealthy?” Elizabeth forgot to breathe through her mouth and choked on the stench of unwashed linen.

  “You’re sure you’re not coming down with consumption?”

  “I wish.”

  “That’s a terrible thing to wish for; this cough is very disturbing. I think you should send for the doctor.”

  “I’ll live…unfortunately.” She glanced at her companion, who
was eyeing her with concern, and was struck by his natural grace. When he wasn’t picking his nose, belching, scratching his backside or lifting his leg to break wind, he appeared to be a different man. Was he a vile smelling pig, or a prince in disguise? It was a ridiculous thought. His brown eyes smiled at her open perusal of his person. As if to oblige her curiosity, he turned to face her, and put a hand on his hip. Visually speaking, he was quite pleasing. There was nothing wrong that a hot soapy bath and dentifrice wouldn’t fix. Her eyes came to rest on his handsome features in time to see him finish inspecting her charms. The dreaded heat consumed her cheeks as he looked her in the eyes and then winked his approval of her person. Her heart shuddered with insensible delight as she momentarily lost her sense of smell. An involuntary smile lit up her eyes as her companion mirrored her emotion.

  Her hand, resting on the edge of the well, could feel dirty fingers approaching as if they possessed some strange electric charge. The masculine hand lightly hovered, testing for rejection, before relaxing its warmth over hers in a possessive caress. They stood smiling into each other’s eyes, until the sound of gunshot in the distance made Elizabeth jump. Her heart continued pumping the pleasant new sensation through her body until she breathed in through her nose. Gagging, she backed away in search of fresh air. Concerned, the man eagerly followed with an outstretched hand. Had she lost her mind? Part of her was longing for that filthy hand to touch her, to feel his putrid kisses cooling her burning cheeks. As if hearing her thoughts the man stepped closer, but the unbearable stench made her retch. Elizabeth’s heart threatened to fall out of her chest onto the remains of her breakfast decorating her suitor’s shoes. Bursting into tears, she ran blindly towards the house. He’d never want to touch her again. She wasn’t sure if that made her less or more unhappy. Locking herself in her room, she waited for word that her latest suitor had packed his bags and fled.

  Chapter 2

  Looking down at his crumbling shoes, James caught a scent of the disgusting odor originating from his body and chucked in disgust. His thorough trainings had been a little too detailed for his own good. It was rudimentary that a strict lack of soap and water would help ensure he won his wager, but James really didn’t want to marry some old maid sight concealed. As further preparation he’d forced himself to wear the same clothes day and night for two weeks and before parting for his visit had one of his gardeners scrub an unhappy tomcat up and down his suit. He knew the influence he’d have on the old maid before he even set off in his carriage. If his own servants couldn’t stand within five feet of his person without suppressing, it was doubtful even the most desperate old maid would say yes to a marriage offer. If the stink didn’t put her off, his willpower to break every politeness rule ever invented probably would. Either way his thoroughness was getting up his own nose. He had to finish the wager quickly; the gnawing anxiety caused by his filthiness was almost unbearable. The thought of pulling on clean underclothes made his eyes water with longing. As soon as he won his wager he’d bathe, put on a clean suit of clothes and depart.

  At least if he lost the wager there was no fear of being saddled with an ugly wife. Miss Elizabeth Morgan was a pretty woman with alabaster skin, seductive curves and brown silky hair worn plaited into a crown that left her divinely shaped ears exposed. Every time he looked at her or thought about her he felt a luxurious throbbing that reinforced a mad desire to pull her into his arms and kiss away the sadness in her eyes. Finding Miss Elizabeth Morgan in his bed every morning would be no hardship, but that wasn’t a good enough reason to marry a woman. It certainly wouldn’t guarantee a happy home. He needed to have a thorough inspection of London’s beauties before giving in to any throbbing madness. He had to choose carefully; once he made his choice he’d be stuck like a pig on a roast. A man couldn’t change his wife like a dirty shirt.

  Having finished cleaning his shoes on the grass around the wishing well, James stared at the old stone ledge where he’d touched her hand. He hadn’t meant his flirtatious courting to become physical. Words were empty twaddle without physical proof of sentiment. He didn’t want to trifle with the woman’s feelings. He was here to be rejected not to inspire hope. The impulse to caress her hand was clearly linked to the luxurious throbbing that was trying to persuade him to be a fool. He tried to push the touch from his thoughts, but walking through the garden the electric memory of soft clean skin allowing his caresses shimmered in and out of his conscious like a flickering ray of sunlight through thick grey clouds. If he remained in the woman’s company there was no telling what madness might occur. It was clear he’d have to speed up his departure. The prospect of donning clean clothes was reason enough to bring his courtship to an end at the earliest opportunity.

  Chapter 3

  The long rectangular dining table sat centred in a cavernous rectangular room with sombre greyish-green walls. A dozen dyspeptic ancestors sneered down at the four diners as if to emphasise that entertaining was duty not a pleasure. Her Aunt and Uncle sat either end of the table like sentry ensuring Elizabeth remained seated in the center across from Lord Devonshire. With only four feet between her smelly suitor Elizabeth hunched over her plate and tried to breathe through her mouth and chew at the same time. Clutching her knife and fork she glanced at the noxious man seated opposite; the Earl of Devonshire was clearly mad. His greasy brown fringe flapped his forehead like a tinker’s leather apron as he looked up to give her a wink. He was completely insane. She glanced down the table to her right; Aunt Angela appeared absorbed in her food, but Elizabeth knew she was listening to Devonshire’s every word. The man had somehow mastered the art of eating and talking simultaneously. The sight of masticated food yet to be swallowed was threatening to bring up her luncheon. Marriage to the man would certainly be uncomfortable for his wife’s stomach. The poor woman would probably starve to death if she shared his table every meal.

  Elizabeth tried to keep her eyes on her plate, but every few minutes they’d wilfully slide across the oak table and up at the handsome face with warm brown eyes. She stifled a groan as she averted her gaze in disgust. The man was picking his teeth with a dirty fingernail. The next time she glanced up he was rubbing his nose on his filthy sleeve. It was only a matter of time before he lifted half his rump off the chair and loudly gassed the room with another ration of ill smelling wind. She’d paralysed his attempts to draw her into a conversation with silence, but Elizabeth’s hope of escaping a public grilling was crushed by Aunt Angela’s distant authoritarian curiosity. “Lord Devonshire…” The man’s fringe flapped as he turned his head towards the older woman sitting a safe ten chairs away. “…how did you find the garden this morning?”

  The man appeared to pause as if the question required deep thought. “I found it quite pleasing Madam. Your lovely niece and I had a most enchanting conversation by the wishing well that left me…well, wishing for more.” Elizabeth’s impulsive look of disgust was rewarded with a wink as her nemesis shovelled another spoonful of Macaroni into his mouth. “I was telling Miss Elizabeth about my coin collection. I have a particular fondness for lost pennies, but as she rightly pointed out one can’t be lost and found at the same time. I think your niece is a remarkable woman.” Elizabeth blushed in horror as the conversation drifted into dangerous waters. Lord Devonshire merely smiled and enthusiastically pointed at her with his empty spoon. “What man of sense could see this pretty penny and not pick her up and take her home?” Lord Devonshire nodded as he used his spoon to point at himself. “This collector knows a rare valuable coin when he sees one. May I have your permission to pick her up and put her in my pocket?”

  “I don’t think she’ll fit in your pocket my Lord, but if you can squeeze her into your carriage do take her away.” Elizabeth’s mouth fell open as her tongue went limp.

  Lord Devonshire, oblivious to her horror, appeared pleased with her Aunt’s blessing as he refocused his warm brown eyes on Elizabeth. “Well Penny? Will you let me pick you up and take you home? You needn’t fear
I’d put you in a glass jar…” Elizabeth fought off a mad impulse to crawl across the table and claw out the man’s left eye; anything to put an end to his winking. “…my house has an empty suite of rooms that connect to mine through a secret door. My mother preferred an old fashioned peach and cream, but you could refresh them however you please. I’ll even order you a new mattress; I refuse to make love to my wife in my mother’s bed. You’ll have to share mine for a few weeks, but I promise I won’t complain.” The man winked again as if to emphasise the zealous gleam in his eyes. “I’ll happily buy you whatever you need to make my house feel like a home. Even my last mistress would tell you I’m a very generous man. Her only complaint was that I was too thorough. I won’t be able to explain what she meant by that ‘till our honeymoon.” Elizabeth could only gurgle in horror as her cheeks threatened to burst into flames. “Some people are impossible to please, but to tell you the truth I was glad she gave me the boot. It forced me to re-examine my priorities. Why pay to visit a pretty wench once a week when one can crawl into bed every night with a pretty wife? Besides, a wife can fill one’s nursery with screaming brats and it’s high time I had some brats. I’d like an heir by the time I’m thirty, but with luck we’ll have an heir and a spare.”