The Hired Wife

by Cari Hislop

  “Yes…their grandfather, John Smirke, surpassed them I assure you. I was the most beautiful debutante that season. I could have snapped my fingers and had any eligible man. I mistakenly thought the Viscount Adderbury a fit groom though mother never liked him. I was worth a larger fortune and superior title, but he was beautiful and he said he was in love with me. A few weeks before our wedding, he clapped eyes on that French slut, Jemima Gontaut, and changed his heart like a pair of soiled unmentionables. The cretin had the nerve to appear hat in hand to inform me that he couldn’t marry me because another woman had since won his heart. Have you ever heard of anything so…conceited, so stupid, so rude? And to think I was a fool who believed him a gentleman. When I asked him what I was to do with twenty iced wedding cakes he actually offered to buy them…for his marriage to her.”

  “No?”

  “They married the evening I was jilted.”

  “No? What did you do with all that wedding cake?”

  “I kindly sent several to him as a wedding gift…it’s a pity they didn’t eat any of it.”

  “I’d have poisoned the almond paste with inheritance powder.”

  “Hmmm…I’m glad he jilted me. Morley was a far superior match. Why would anyone want to be a Viscountess when one could be a Marchioness? And imagine the embarrassment of spending one’s life being known as a Smirke.”

  “Ugh! You were well rid of him. Speak of the devils…” The five young Smirkes tumbled into the room and raced to the table where they fought over the remaining four chairs. Charles Smirke, almost a living reproduction of his grandfather John Smirke, was left standing. His shy smile at the two old women earned him disdain from one wrinkled face and cold contempt laced with hatred from the other.

  Lady Morley eyed the five young men with pursed lips, “Spare us your obnoxious company and pray break your fast in the dining room where there is adequate seating for all the Smirkes in England.”

  Cecil passed a piece of toast to Charles and smiled at the sneering old women, “George says it’s haunted. Robert…you don’t need an inch of butter on your toast. The ladies will think you’re planning to visit the North Pole. I love this old fashioned pink silk with the gold swirls, it reminds me of Nana. Cosmo…leave some eggs for the ladies.”

  “Why should I? The footman will bring more food. Besides, old people need less food. They haven’t as long to live.” Cosmo chuckled at his own demented humour and reached for another piece of toast.

  Lady Morley set down her cup with an angry clink, “I insist you eat in the dining room. I refuse to have my delicate morning constitution upset by uncouth Smirkes.”

  George Smirke slammed down his butter knife, “We’ve done nothing to deserve your bile and unlike you we’re here by direct invitation of Bucky who asked us to make ourselves at home. We wish to eat in here and that should be the end of it. As our Papa says, “If one does not find one’s dinner companions agreeable, then one either leaves the table or endeavours to be polite.”

  “Your Papa is a stammering fool. A fact he illustrated by marrying a creature paid to empty his chamber pot.” Stunned by the direct insults to their parents; five pairs of black eyes burned with outrage. “As only half-aristocrats, you only half deserve my respect. Being half deserving equates with deserving nothing. You are social abominations, no better than encroaching cits.” Lady Morley smiled well pleased with her poisonous tirade, “I hope the truth isn’t too painful.”

  “Truth?” Cecil Smirke’s black eyes glimmered. “You wouldn’t know truth if it jabbed you in the backside. We miss our Mamma. I doubt anyone will miss you when you’ve been dropped into the family crypt. I certainly won’t miss you. Robert, pass me the butter.” The old women rose majestically from their chairs and abandoned the room with regal indignation. “I hope Papa doesn’t marry someone like Lady Morley; she’d be an evil stepmother. I know Aunt Agnes meant well by having him invited to that house party, but I think Papa should have declined the honour. If Aunt Agatha tried to marry me to one of her friends I’d emigrate. I understand the lady in question has to shave her chest. I tried to tell Papa, but he stuck his fingers in his ears. I’d want to know if my bride had to shave her bosoms, though I can’t imagine Papa looking at bosoms. Why would he? He’s forty-three.”

  Cosmo wiped his mouth on his sleeve, “I’ll never stop looking at bosoms.”

  “That’s because you’ll never be allowed to do anything but look.”

  “Shut up Robert! I have more money than you; my wife will be far better looking than your wife.”

  “In your dreams…”

  Cecil reached for another piece of toast and looked for the butter, “Papa doesn’t even know what kind of woman he’s looking for. I asked him if he knew; he gave me that look that makes the blood run cold and told me to mind my own business.”

  George waved his spoon to get the table’s attention. “We need to help Papa find a wife. You know he’s looking for a replica of Mamma, and Mamma, God rest her soul, wasn’t a good match for Papa. I think he needs a woman like Lady Raynham; she’d make an excellent wife. It’s true she’s not beautiful, but there’s something about her…”

  Cecil raised an eyebrow, “Lady Raynham already has a husband.”

  “Yes, but he might die…”

  “And you might hang for murder.”

  “If he happens to die in a hunting accident or drowns in the lake I say we hire her to marry Papa.”

  “It wouldn’t work. She’s in love with Raynham. Look, they’re coming up the hill. She looks almost pretty…”

  Cosmo stood to get a better view, “Why do they have an open umbrella? The sun is shining.”

  “How should I know? Eat your toast.” Cecil slapped the table, “George is right. We need to find Papa a wife. Charles, go fetch paper and ink. We’ll ask Lady Raynham to help us write an ad. Cosmo, what’s the matter? Have you eaten too much again? You look ill.”

  “What if I can’t find a woman who’ll marry me? I’ll have to advertise…‘Attention all unmarried females with hairy bosoms, virgin fourth son seeks bride with money making talents. Only maids with own teeth need apply.’ I’ll never be loved; I’ll be miserable.”

  “You’ll be eaten by a cannibalistic Amazon if you put that ad in the papers.”

  “Thank you George, I feel hope in my heart like a steel blade.”

  “As long as it doesn’t feel like an enema.”

  “Do we have to eat with them?” The booming question drew all five brothers’ eyes towards the door. “Doesn’t this lunatic asylum have two breakfast rooms?”

  Lady Mary pulled her scowling husband towards the table. “I wish to eat with the Smirkes.”

  Chapter 12

  Marshall silently noted his wife’s embarrassed expression and then expelled his irritation with a loud sigh as the beautiful Cecil Smirke jumped out of his chair and made a bee-line for his ear, “Morning Raynham, have a pleasant walk by the lake?”

  “Is there a reason you’re screaming in my ear child?”

  “We need your help. Oh good Charles found some ink and paper.” Cecil dashed back to the table to claim his chair, but lost it to Charles.

  “What is that lunatic Smirke talking about?”

  “I’ve no idea. Have you ever seen such beautiful pastry?” Marshall was forced to follow as Mary’s stomach pulled her to one of the two empty chairs. He sat down and eyed the five brothers with suspicion. It was only time before the Smirkes revealed their evil natures. He turned a sharp eye on the shy looking Charles sitting the other side of Mary. He looked too innocent as he dipped a pen in ink. Marshall’s attention was dragged back to the excited Cecil.

  “Why is that lunatic waving his spoon?” Marshall felt his heart chill as Mary’s face lit up with pleasure at something the eldest Smirke was saying, “What’s he saying? Well? Why are you blushing?”

  “They admire your choice of wife…”

  Marshall’s heart froze at the thought of Mary being courted by a b
eautiful Smirke. She’d fall in love. She’d ask for an annulment. He’d die a broken hearted wretch. “Stay away from my wife.” The silver cow creamer leapt into the air as Marshall thumped the table with his fist. “She’s mine!”

  “They don’t admire me in that way Marshall. They think I’d make a good step-mother. Their Papa is in need of a wife. They want you to help them write an advertisement to find him one.”

  How badly did they want Mary as a step-mother? Would they be willing to make her a widow? Five pairs of black eyes returned his angry stare with artless enthusiasm. “Leave your Papa to find his own wife; if he wishes to make a fool of himself that’s his business. Pass me the eggs.” Marshall half watched the five brothers confer as he absently heaped his plate.

  “They’re afraid their papa will marry some unsuitable female because she looks like their mother. They say he needs help.”

  “I don’t remember Adderbury being the sort of person who’d want his desperation printed in a broadsheet or a magazine. Let the man find his own wife!” Five beautiful faces lit up with curiosity.

  “They want to know how you know their father.”

  “We were at school together and no we weren’t friends. I pummelled him weekly.” Five smiles slowly fell into various expressions of perplexed resentment.

  “They want to know why you pummelled him.”

  “I understood he was mocking me. If your friend told you I was spreading vile rumours about you, would you ignore it or pummel me?”

  “They say their Papa wouldn’t spread rumours; he hates hearing or discussing other people second hand.”

  “My friend said Adderbury was spreading rumours and that was good enough for me.”

  “They want to know the name of your friend.”

  “Morley; he was my only friend.”

  “Yes, the fool trusted me.” The five Smirkes twisted angry faces towards the door where Morley paused to lift his eye glass. “Your papa made such amusing prey I couldn’t help myself. You should have seen it. Ugly barrel-chested Marshall would scream deafening curses at the beautiful lanky Adderbury too kind to stammer an ill word to the devil. It was better than a circus.” Morley chuckled at the memory, “Your papa was too honourable to run, so he’d put up his fists knowing he’d be pummelled by a youthful Hercules. Those were the days…” Morley waved his hand at the footman, “Fetch me a chair and seat me next to Lady Mary.” She cringed towards her husband as he rested his hand on the back of her chair, caressing her shoulder as he leaned over her to speak into Marshall’s ear, “Good Morning Marshall, I was just telling the Smirkes what a vile bore Adderbury used to be. Remember that time we found him crying in his sleep and we poured water in his bed and everyone thought he couldn’t be bothered to get up to use a chamber pot and everyone called him Adderburwee ‘till he left school. I’ve never been so entertained. What have you been doing to your wife? She’s looking much improved this morning. May I kiss her cheek?”

  “Don’t touch my wife.”

  “My, aren’t we touchy.” Morley sat down, scooted his chair closer to Mary and whispered, “If you were my wife I’d always be touching you. I thought deflowering a virgin last night would quench my lust, but it hasn’t made the slightest difference. I want you even more than yesterday…” The words were a husky hiss that scorched Mary’s cheeks as Morley’s left foot painfully pressed down on her toes. “…resisting only makes me want you more.”

  “Stop talking to my wife and eat your food, she doesn’t like you.”

  Cecil Smirke walked around the table and stood behind Charles’ chair, “Perchance you’re going deaf in your old age Morley; the lady finds your nearness offensive as would anyone with a nose. You stink.”

  Morley eyed Cecil up and down with amused contempt, “Or what child, you’ll teach me a lesson? I’ve killed men just to see if they’d fall to the left or right. Threaten me again boy and they won’t find your body until the fish have feasted, comprende? Lady Mary enjoys my company don’t you my dear?”

  “No I do not.”

  “What are you saying to my wife?”

  Morley half rose and leaned over Mary creating an opportunity to fondle her neck, the caress visible to everyone, but her husband. Mary cringed towards Marshall, but lusty fingers continued to explore her person. “I was telling Lady Mary that we should all visit the island in the lake later this afternoon. I understand there are some magical views from the ruins.”

  “Stop hovering over my wife, you’re making her uncomfortable.”

  “Your wife’s very skittish Marshall, like a mare in heat.”

  “One more rude innuendo and I’ll knock your teeth down your throat. Here have my place Mary; I’ll sit next to the rude libertine.” Mary eagerly moved into the empty chair and sighed with relief as her husband became a safe wall of muscle. She rewarded concerned blue eyes with a grateful smile as she touched his leg.

  Morley snapped his fingers for the footman, “I’ll wager you a hundred pounds I can row a boat of four to the island. There’s nothing like a boat race to work up an appetite. Did you hear me Marshall? I’ll race you to the island for one hundred pounds.”

  “What?” The haze of pleasure deafening Marshall’s brain vanished as his wife withdrew her hand from his thigh leaving him aware of the man on his right. “If you’re so desperate to lose your money Henry, why don’t you throw it into the lake? I could beat you with one arm.”

  “I accept your challenge. We’ll cut the water at two and picnic on the island. Alyce wants to see the castle; as your father used to say, ‘One must endeavour to please the ladies’.”

  “Stay away from my sister; you’re not fit company for an innocent. Find a poxed dowager to laugh at your jokes and leave Alyce for a man who won’t die of the pox.”

  Morley lifted his eyeglass and examined his old friend like a flea under magnification. “Poxed dowagers have their uses, but vestal-virgins are the more desirable vessel when a man is ready to harvest his seed.”

  “Touch my sister and I’ll kill you.”

  Morley put his hand on Marshall’s shoulder, his lips twisted in cynical amusement. “I think you’re in need of a good night’s rest Marshall.” He lowered his voice to a sneering whisper, “Perhaps if your wife let you sow some seed you might not be so prejudiced against me tilling virgin earth.”

  “Stay away from my sister.”

  Morley loudly yawned as he resumed a languid posture in his chair before barking out orders to the footman to fill his plate. His orders obeyed he leaned back toward his friend, “You can’t cripple the course of true love Marshall. If I win your sister’s heart how could you deny her that which you long for more than breath? What sort of brother would that make you? And I understand broken hearted sisters are most difficult to control. Instead of denying her my company, perhaps you should encourage her to fall in love with a Smirke? Think how pleased Adderburwee would be to welcome you into the family. What a delicious tangle that would cause. I hope you invite me to the wedding. I’d pay to see his smirking face pale with horror as he watches one of his precious sons marry your snotty sister.”

  Morley chuckled as he buttered his toast, pleased to have caused so much discomfort and hostility before noon. Smiling, he sipped his morning chocolate. He’d enjoyed bedding Marshall’s virgin sister, but the thought of repeating the exercise on Marshall’s virgin wife made him catch his breath. Alyce had been too easy. She believed his lies and suffered his passions with the docility of a dead cow. He’d breached her defences with boring ease. What he longed for was heartfelt resistance. He wanted to battle a woman who knew he was deadly. To make a true conquest the fortress had to be impregnable. If Alyce had any sense she’d forget the illegal ceremony in the little Saxon church ever happened. What wasn’t legal, wasn’t binding; illegal wives were easier than servants to cast aside. He pushed back his chair so he could watch Mary smile at Marshall. Those lips would soon be his; the future promised exquisite pleasures of all kinds. After br
eakfast he’d visit Alyce and take his pleasure again while planning Mary’s downfall. He’d begin the assault in earnest as soon as Marshall was dead.