The Honorable Marksley

by Sherry Lynn Ferguson

  “Perhaps,” Archie suggested, with a mischievous look at Hallie, “the mill should be left as it is. It seems suitable for more unrefined purposes. Trysting, for example.”

  Marksley sent him an icy glance, then turned to the window. “I hope the weather will improve by the mor row,” he said. “I have business in London. I shouldn’t care for the journey,” he added grimly, “with the roads so impassable.”

  “But Richard,” Phoebe cried. “Whatever can you mean by this? When you are to be wed in two weeks’ time!”

  “Miss Ashton knows that my responsibilities will not cease upon our marriage. Indeed,” and Hallie caught his look, “they can only increase.”

  “Well, there are a good many events you shall miss, and not a few of them planned in your honor.” Phoebe’s tone was aggrieved. She had anticipated the social whirl. But her subsequent look at Hallie was considering. “Whatever shall you do without him, Miss Harriet? Or will you enjoy the escort of some of the other gentlemen of Denhurst?”

  Hallie tried to believe the girl had not meant to impugn her morals. “You flatter me, Miss Lawes. My uncle will no doubt ensure that the next fortnight’s entertainments will not be too diverting.”

  Richard Marksley acknowledged that likelihood with a contemptuous little breath.

  “I would be happy to serve as your escort in Mr. Marksley’s absence, Miss Ashton,” Archie offered. “That is, for the next few days. And with your permission, sir.” He tilted his head toward the aloof man next to him. Hallie credited Marksley’s expression to the distaste he felt for any reminder of their impending wedding.

  “Miss Ashton is free to do as she chooses,” he said, “now, three weeks, or even three years hence”

  Cavendish stared. “That is remarkably liberal thinking, I must say, sir. Though I should not be surprised, given the views in our intellectual circles. Mary Wollstonecraft’s contrary writings are much discussed, are they not? And it is said that Lord Byron believes-”

  “I honor the institution of marriage, and the sanctity of marriage vows, Mr. Cavendish,” Marksley said coldly. “You mistook my meaning.”

  “Pardon me, sir. But this talk of freedom for a wife-”

  “I hold that spouses should be equal partners in spirit, in the accommodation of each other’s wishes, even if not deemed so in the letter of the law.”

  Phoebe leaned forward again and playfully tapped Richard Marksley on one knee. He shifted his leg away.

  “That is so very romantic, Richard. Although,” and she lowered her gaze with belated modesty, “I should have expected such from you”

  “And do you share Mr. Marksley’s romantic views, Miss Ashton?” Cavendish asked, leaning toward her.

  “Naturally Mr. Marksley and I have reached a certain understanding of each other’s wishes,” she replied carefully. “You might consider it `romantic’ that our understanding is confidential. I believe such privacy,” she stressed, “is key to any true meaning of the word.”

  Apparently deaf to her reprimand, Cavendish gazed admiringly at her, but Phoebe looked as though Hallie had suddenly started to speak Chinese.

  “Miss Ashton is impressively logical,” Marksley remarked evenly, with a glance that was unreadable. “Logic is rarely paired with romance”

  “Miss Ashton is all that is charming,” Archie enthused. Hallie felt him press the toe of his boot against the hem of her skirt. She shot him a look of angry amazement, and attempted to regain her hem, but the young man was persistent.

  “Our love is our bond,” he cried. “Not for the fainthearted, no! But proved beyond doubt, through fire and snow!”

  After a moment’s silence, Marksley said, “That is most amusing doggerel, Mr. Cavendish.” His tone was as haughty as Hallie had heard from him. “Where ever did you hear it?”

  Archie looked crestfallen, but having had her fill of him, Hallie was grateful for the snub.

  “Oh, never mind, Archie,” Phoebe said impatiently. “It is not so very awful, but you really must stop imposing on Richard.” The comment did very little to restore good will amongst the occupants of the carriage.

  The ride continued in shared discomfort. The roads were uneven due to the rain, which pummeled the carriage roof in ceaseless accompaniment to the splashing of the horses’ hooves. As they at last pulled to the front of Penham Hall, the rain became a deluge.

  “I beg your pardon, Miss Lawes, Mr. Cavendish, if I do not suggest you stop with us” Marksley was pushing open the door even as he spoke. “In this flood, you are no doubt eager to reach home. We are most grateful for your consideration. Another time, perhaps?”

  Indecision and frustration warred on Phoebe’s face. “Why I … no doubt you are right, Richard. Mama will be worried. I had best be home for tea. And Archie must ready himself. He departs Saturday for Oxford”

  “Ah, do you, sir?” Marksley extended his hand. “Until next time then. Miss Ashton, I believe we must risk the damp” He transferred his hand to hers and pulled her none too gently out of the carriage. Two footmen, looking bedraggled, waited with umbrellas at the bottom of the steps. Hallie murmured her thanks to Phoebe Lawes before the carriage door shut with alacrity behind her.

  Burdened by her heavy skirts, she had difficulty matching Marksley’s pace up the steps to the door. But she arrived close beside him nonetheless, to see Lady Penham’s tear-streaked face and hear her anguished moan. She waved a sheet of paper in front of them.

  “Richard, Richard! He is dead! My darling boy is dead!”

  Richard heard Hoskins’ soft “milord” as the Penham butler removed his wet coat. He had heard Geneve’s wail as well, but he would not quite have believed it without the butler’s instant and ominous confirmation.

  He reached for his aunt’s shoulders and the shaking letter at the same time, holding the grieving woman steadily while he scanned the message. But it was Hallie Ashton to whom he looked.

  “It seems my cousin’s quest was successful,” he told her flatly. “He found an excellent hunter-who helped him break his neck”

  Geneve shook beneath his arm as she wept, but Richard could not seem to look away from Hallie Ashton’s face. Tell me what you are thinking, he found himself demanding silently, tell me what he meant to you. Apart from shock at the unexpected news, Richard could read nothing more in her gaze than compassion for Geneve.

  “Come, aunt,” he said, taking Geneve’s hands in one of his. “You must sit down at once. Miss Ashton, please be good enough to join us”

  She still looked troubled but composed. Or was she secretly suffering? Could it be that her heart was breaking? He frowned as he led his aunt into the drawing room and settled her by the fire. Then he turned to pour them a brandy.

  “It is impossible,” Geneve cried. “I cannot believe it. Richard, there must be some mistake. You must send to Ireland at once and ask for the truth of it. They must have made a mistake.”

  Richard sighed. “There is no mistake. This is uncle’s agent in Kildare. I had written him to locate Reggie. The good man has taken it upon himself … that is, he has already arranged for Reggie’s return. I am sorry”

  Geneve wrung her hands. “But he … you … oh, this cannot be!”

  “My lady,” Hallie Ashton said softly. “You have had a shock. You will need time-”

  Geneve turned on her almost savagely. “None of this is your concern now, miss. You can know nothing of my … of our grief.”

  Richard’s lips firmed. “You are undoubtedly distraught, madam. But you forget yourself.” He had noticed Hallie Ashton’s pallor and suggested she take a seat as well. Still damp from their earlier carriage accident, they both could have benefited from hot baths and a change of clothing. But the fire would have to suffice for the moment. He remained standing stiffly at the hearth.

  “Have you told uncle?” he asked.

  “The steward, that Mr…. Mr…

  “Appleby,” Richard supplied.

  “… was to go up to him,” Geneve s
aid. “I simply could not. Ah, I fear this will be the end of him! Our own dear boy! Dear Reginald!” She bowed her head as her body trembled.

  Hallie Ashton sat quietly, her hands clasped in her lap. Given the rejection of her earlier offer of sympathy, her silence was understandable, but Richard had expected something else … that she should need comfort as well. What inanity-to presume that she should need him!

  He directed his attention to Geneve.

  “My dear aunt,” he told her, “I cannot console you. But I can assure you that I would never have wished this.”

  Her watery blue gaze focused on his face. “He was born and bred to this, Richard. It was his birthright. And now you … well,” she dabbed at her eyes with a linen square. “It is impossible that he is gone. That you should replace him. All this-to you! We must hope you can make do”

  “I shall endeavor to be worthy” He might have pointed out to her that he was more “born and bred” to this than his departed cousin. But Geneve would believe what she would; mere facts had never hindered her assumptions. And Hallie Ashton had no need to know of his parents’ unfortunate history. He certainly felt no pressing desire to enlighten her. There was, however, another matter that begged to be addressed. He had considered it immediately, and with grim purpose.

  “The marriage must go forward,” he said.

  Geneve looked up and fixed him with accusing, redrimmed eyes. “This is not a time to jest, Richard.”

  He let his gaze survey Hallie Ashton’s rebellious features before he responded. “I am quite serious, ma’am. Although it comes so soon after Reggie’s passing, a wedding must not be put off. There is now no reason for delay, and no choice.”

  “And why, sir,” Geneve demanded, “do you say so? It is appalling to contemplate a wedding. And to contract a union with this-with such as Miss Ashton now is outside of enough. Why, were you to do so now, people would only believe you had to marry. I should shudder to be seen in society! Such a misalliance. It is unseemly!” She turned to the tight-lipped Miss Ashton. “I am certain you must agree, Miss Ashton. A future Earl must look much higher. It is your obligation to society, to your family, to step aside now and let him-”

  “My dear aunt,” Richard interrupted. “You did not appear to find the circumstances unseemly this past week. I remind you that even then I was a member of this family. I regret my cousin’s demise in more ways than you can imagine. But the misfortune cannot alter my purpose in this. We must simply beg your forbearance in suffering the association.”

  Geneve began to weep. “But … we would all be wearing mourning.”

  “Which would be only too appropriate. I do not propose a celebration, aunt. While our state of mourning is regrettable, it is not prohibitive. We cannot wait six months-or even one.”

  “Too cruel, Richard! Have you no sense of decorum, no delicacy, no sympathy? No thought of what is owed to those who raised you?”

  “Remember your promise,” he reminded her darkly.

  Geneve drew a ragged breath, but pressed on, her hands nervously working the linen of her kerchief.

  ““Tis not as though you were ever obligated since it was Reginald after all who compromised the girl.”

  “The truth of that is unmistakable. But as the argument did not signify when I made it last week, it cannot signify now.”

  “I never thought you vengeful, Richard.”

  “I am not vengeful, aunt. This is not a matter of vengeance. It is quite clearly one of honor. It did not matter much before. Indeed, it had certain farcical aspects,” he shot a glance at Hallie, whose color was rising, “but it matters a great deal now. What would you have said of the family? Reggie may have compromised Miss Ashton before, but I have compromised her since.”

  Hallie Ashton’s complexion now warmed radically. Richard could not have explained his satisfaction in the effect. But his attention returned abruptly to Geneve’s wide eyes.

  “You need not look so horrified, madam,” he told her. “We have done nothing unwonted. We have merely acted the parts you directed us to play, as an affianced couple. But if I were to cry off now, Miss Ashton would most certainly face disgrace. Her uncle would have every right to sue for breach”

  Geneve turned her furious attention to Hallie Ashton. “I have no doubt, miss,” she hissed, “that this has all been your doing. That you set your cap for my darling boy and drove him-drove him!-to his death. He would not have gone to Ireland at all had you not imposed yourself! And now you will cling to Richard and drag us all down into the gutter. Oh-that Cyril’s heir should so condescend! Such a woman as you are! I know not what to call you. You will forever be no more than dirt in my eyes, you … you-”

  “Enough,” Richard snapped. “Miss Ashton will shortly belong to this family, as the Viscountess Langsford, and as such you will treat her with civility.” Hallie Ashton had the misfortune at that moment to sneeze, which reminded him that they both needed dry clothing. “You know full well, aunt, that nothing you have said has any merit whatever. I shall try to understand. You have suffered a terrible loss. You are in shock. Your judgment is unsound. But have a care” He glanced again at Hallie Ashton’s face. “And now, if you will excuse us, we suffered a carriage accident this afternoon. If Miss Ashton is not immediately attended to, she might well fall ill.”

  Geneve’s glare expressed her unspoken desire for that very eventuality, or worse. She rose with an exag gerated swish of her elegant silk skirts, although her flushed, ravaged features robbed the display of the dignity she would have wished.

  “I shall not argue, Richard. You know I disapprove. Forgive me if I leave your wedding plans in your eager hands. I shall find arrangements for the funeral of my son to be trying enough. But I shall never forgive you, Richard. I know you do this to spite me”

  “No, ma’am,” Richard said as pleasantly as he could. He made her a slight bow. “I do this in spite of you. There is a world of difference.”

  With a toss of her head and another bitter glance at Hallie Ashton, Geneve left them together.

  “I … feel for her,” Hallie Ashton said. “She must be suffering.”

  “Your sympathy does you credit, my dear. But let me promise you that she will pull through. I have known her many years”

  “Still … with such a shock-”

  He smiled grimly as he examined her. “I assure you that she lacks your sensitivity. I apologize for anything she may have said that offended you.”

  “She cannot offend me”

  “Cannot? Brave words, Miss Hallie. The countess has offended me on innumerable occasions.”

  Hallie Ashton rose to her feet and attempted to smooth out her wrinkled skirt. “Then you must have cared more than you own … and tried to please her.”

  Richard eyed her thoughtfully. “You are remarkably wise, my dear. For such an innocent.” Her flush deep ened. “But I see now that I have offended you” He smiled, but she did not take up his challenge.

  “The wisdom you commend, Mr. Marksley, was Tolly’s. He thought it a waste to spend one’s life attempting to please another. Perhaps he learned early that my uncle cannot be pleased. Neither did he believe in unmet expectation-in living on dreams alone. Tolly was always one for making his own way”

  Tolliver Ashton, by Jeremy’s report, had lived as he thought-as a young man of purpose and action.

  “Then I drink to the wise philosophy of your late cousin Tolly,” he said, toasting Hallie Ashton before letting the brandy warm his throat and chest. “Do you feel nothing at all then?” he quizzed her.

  “I … do not understand you”

  “Do you feel nothing upon the death of my own cousin?” He watched her very closely. “Your dear one will not be visiting anyone ever again. You expectation of his return,” he paused, “will never be gratified.”

  “I have told you before. He was never dear to me”

  “What attraction did he hold for you, then?” Despite his best effort he knew his voice betrayed his frust
ration. “What did he have that you could possibly have wanted?”

  “Nothing. Nothing but a name.”

  “A name? I see” His lips firmed. “I see that my aunt comprehends you”

  “No. She does not”

  “How very cryptic, Miss Ashton. Given your fondness for apt sayings, one might accuse you of purpose ly speaking in some peculiar code of your own” To his surprise, she smiled. A shy, secretive smile that, to his irritation, fascinated him.

  “You had best see to your warmth,” he said sharply, turning from her to place the brandy snifter carefully on the mantel. “No matter the circumstances, my aunt is punctilious about the dinner hour. Though it seems unlikely she will desire it, I would prefer that she have our company.” But when he turned, prepared to acknowledge Hallie Ashton’s relieved departure, he found her instead observing him with some concern.

  “Is it possible, my lord, that you feel more in this instance than you would have anyone know?”

  “Indeed I do, Miss Ashton. But my feelings are all entirely selfish-and have much to do with your very proper use of `my lord,’ as you said it just now.”

  “It is … expected”

  “Yes.” And then, because she still stood there, and perhaps because the brandy had loosened his tongue, he said, “Much as I disdained him, my dear departed cousin served one very useful function. He was the Viscount Langsford, heir to the Earl of Penham, and I, within limits, could do as I chose” He turned back to the mantel and idly ran a finger along its edge.

  “But Jeremy-forgive me-Lord Jeremy told me that your own father was once the Viscount Langsford”

  He turned to her in surprise. “That is true, yes. But my father lost the title before I was born. I have never regretted it nor anticipated its restoration.” He paused. “Jeremy is perhaps too familiar with family histories. And too free with mine.”

  “Yet you would have me be part of it. That is, if you are serious.”

  “Oh, I am serious, Miss Ashton. We no longer have an option. The two of us shall spend the rest of our days paying for the transgressions of a selfish boy, one who was denied nothing in life … except its continuance.”