Plain and Proper by M J Marlow (beach read TXT) 📕

the sound of women screaming. “What’s that?”
They ran upstairs and saw Marianne passed out cold on the floor. Blood was flowing down the side of her face and the window glass was lying all around her. Andrew picked her up and carried her to the bed as Dominique brought over a wet cloth. They watched as he wiped the blood away and saw only a graze. The butler was asked to summon the Doctor and he confirmed that it was only a graze. Andrew found the bullet in the wall and he dug it out and handed it to Pertwee.
“Put the house under watch,” he told the man tightly; “but she is to remain here. My niece has gone through enough distress in the past six months. Leave her a modicum of normalcy.” He looked over at Dominique. “My wife and I shall stay here with her,” Dominique nodded. He turned as Marianne grabbed his hand. “What is it, child?”
“D’arboe,” she whimpered as she felt herself passing out again. “It was D’arboe. I saw him at the window.” She went pale from the pain. “He was aiming at Dominique, Uncle and I pushed her out of the way.”
“Are all Macalesters so foolhardy?” Pertwee shook his head. He slid the bullet fragment into his pocket. “I will take this to the lab, and have a ‘hue and cry’ sent out for the arrest of Philippe D’arboe.”
Philippe made his way back to his hiding place and scowled as he saw who was waiting for him. His scowl turned to anger and alarm as he saw the gun. The man said nothing to him. The gun went off and Philippe died. By the time anyone came to look, the assassin was gone, and the gun left next to Philippe’s body. A note had been pinned to his back with a knife through it.
“So die all traitors!” was all it said.


Marianne was kept in bed for three days to recover from the injury she had suffered. The servants were even more attentive to her after that. She was ready to scream from the pampering she was receiving. She came downstairs with one of the maids carrying a shawl and another had a footstool ready once she was seated. She waved them off in irritation and Andrew saw her expression. He smiled and put down his paper.
“You have been invited to tea at the Thornton’s home,” he said simply; “I have taken the liberty of accepting for you.” She shook her head. “You cannot lock yourself away from people like this, Marianne. Gerard would not…”
“Gerard is not here, Uncle,” Marianne broke in coldly. “He is most likely on his way to the guillotine because of us.” She did not cry. She had decided it solved nothing for her to cry. Gerard was not here where he belonged. He should be here, her silent rant continued as she laid her hand on her abdomen. “Very well, Uncle. I shall go to this tea. Who else will be there?”
“Your aunt Dominique,” Andrew told her, “Lord Pertwee and his family, Lord Samuel and Lord Stephen, Lady Margaret, the Dowager Duchess of Ravenhold, the Lady Tremayne, the Duke of Ravenhold, and myself.” He saw her pale. “Are you all right, child?”
“I do not think I can bear spending time in those people’s presence, Uncle,” Marianne told him. “The last time I met her, Lady Gloriana was very nasty to me!” She looked at him with a brief spark of her former self. “Am I allowed to be rude to them?” He looked at her askance. “I can always claim it an effect of pregnancy,” she actually laughed at the thought. “I am told some women get quite emotional when they are pregnant.”
“You know better, child,” Andrew told her. He turned to the maid. “Your mistress will wish to change. Bring her an appropriate gown for tea with Marshwood and his family. Estelle can help her lady dress in the Study.”
“You are being very bossy, Uncle,” Marianne pouted. “Are you the one who told them to hover in the first place?” She saw him look away. “I knew it!” She looked at him in distress. “You must tell them to back off. I am being smothered with all this kindness.”
Andrew smiled and shook his head. She was showing a bit more of her former self and he was glad of it. He had begun to think she would allow herself to fall into a depression and wallow there. But then he had forgotten she had Macalester blood running in her veins. She would not wallow! She would come out of this fighting mad. He was certain that if she had not been pregnant she would have rushed to France to do battle for her imprisoned husband. Estelle arrived with a gown and took Marianne into the Study. Half an hour later, they were in the carriage and headed to the Thornton residence.
“Welcome to our humble home!” Lord Thornton smiled as they entered the immense structure. Marianne looked around at the austere ornaments and furnishings and shivered. This was not a home; this was a museum. Bernard held his arm out to her and she let him escort her into the gardens where tea had been set out. After several moments of greetings, everyone settled in and tea was served.
Margaret and Dominique were discussing fashion with Marianne when Gloriana came over. The woman took Marianne’s hand in hers and smiled sadly. “This must be a very trying time for you, dearest Marianne,” she said soulfully. “Having a child with your husband a prisoner in the Bastille!”
“Gloriana!” Her father snapped. “You were told not to bring the subject up. Thornton looked at Marianne. “I apologize for my daughter’s thoughtlessness.”
“I would prefer it not be danced around, Lord Thornton,” Marianne replied. “It is a fact.” She bit her lip to keep the tears from falling. “My husband is a prisoner of that vile Frenchman and I am unable to help him as I await the birth of our child.” She looked at Gloriana. “I am grateful for your concern, Lady Gloriana.” She looked to lady Thornton. “Might I lay down for a few moments, Lady Thornton? I am not feeling well suddenly.”
Hermione went into action and Marianna found herself lying on a bed in a Guest Room. The lady herself put pillows behind her back and had a glass of water with lemon brought. Marianne smiled at her gratefully. She was left alone with her maid, and Estelle was in a fine mood.
“I could have slapped her,” Estelle said to her mistress fiercely. “That little viper didn’t care one bit that she was hurting you.”
“She wanted to hurt me, Estelle,” Marianne sighed. “Doesn’t she have other people to be unkind to?” She let the tears flow then and found herself enveloped in the woman’s arms. “I don’t know how much longer I can stand not knowing if he is alive or not,” she cried as Estelle stroked her back. “I want my husband back!”
“Of course you do, my lady,” Estelle said softly. “But for now, that cannot be. You lie back now and rest.” Estelle kissed Marianne on the forehead. “We all pray he comes back to you, lady Marianne. Don’t lose hope.”
Marianne fell asleep and her worried mind was soon attacked by nightmare. She saw Gerard, his handsome face bruised and bloodied by beating, unable to stand as he was forced out of a cell and marched down a flight of stairs. He was forced into a wagon and tied to a pole roughly. She could almost feel his pain it was so real. The wagon was pulled through the streets and jeering people threw things at him. A rock struck him in the temple and he passed out briefly, only to be slapped back awake by a guard.
“No, please…” Marianne whimpered as the wagon stopped and he was pulled through the jeering crowd towards the guillotine. “You can’t kill him! Please,” she sobbed and tried to reach out to stop them. She felt someone holding her back as Gerard was forced to kneel. “Gerard!” She looked up at the man holding her and she screamed. It was the man who had hurt her mother, and he was no stranger. She knew this man. “Let me go!” she sobbed and turned back to see a coffin where the guillotine had been. He was lying inside of it covered in blood. “No! Gerard!”
“Wake up, child,” Dominique’s voice broke in. “It’s only a dream,” she said, as Marianne could not seem to stop crying. “Only a dream.”
“He’s dead, Domi,” Marianne sobbed as her aunt tried to comfort her. “They – they murdered Gerard! And the man who killed Mama wouldn’t let me help!”
“It was only a dream, Mari,” Dominique assured her. She stroked the girl’s back until Marianne quieted and fell asleep. “Only a dream.”


Gerard woke up slowly after the beating he’d been given. The guards had not said a word to him when they had come. They had merely grabbed him and started to pound on him. He heard a door open and someone coming towards him. Then a hand clamped around his throat and he struggled to open his eyes. He could not believe who he was seeing standing over him. It was not possible for him to be here!
“You have been behind this all from the very beginning,” Gerard moaned as pain coursed through his arms and legs.
“Of course,” the man nodded and laughed. “I had set it up so that pretty Marianne would be mine, but you had to interfere.” He looked at Gerard coldly. “You and that insufferable Macalester.” He tightened his hold. “You are going to be executed in the morning, Travers, and your lovely widow will need someone to comfort her. Your child will need a father…”
“You will never have my family!” Gerard snapped. “Someone will realize what you are! Then you will suffer…” He choked as his tormentor tightened his grip. When he recovered from the attack, the door was closing behind the man. Gerard struggled to get up, his mind locked on one thought. He had to warn someone. But moving sent fresh pain shooting through his body and he was falling.
He heard the door open and saw a man fall in front of him who looked remarkably like – him! He was helped out of the room and down the stairs. He saw coffins all around him and he was laid inside one and given a dose of something that sent him spiraling down into the dark. Quinlan frowned as he saw the condition Gerard was in. He tied him securely and put the gag in the young man’s mouth, and then helped Bradley nail the coffin lid on. Moody and Percy moved in to help them pick up the coffin and carry it to the waiting wagon. Cameron was at the reins.
“We have to hurry,” Quinlan said as he got up next to Cameron and the others mounted their horses. “News of his ‘death’ will arrive before we do.”
The five moved off with their charge and headed north towards Calais. It would take them several days to arrive there and the hours were precious now. Andrew and Pertwee had sent them on this little errand when it became obvious the King’s requests were going to be ignored. Napoleon had been adamant, their French agents told them, that the Earl of Strathmore be executed. They had also heard he had an English agent who would move in on the grieving widow and make her marry him. All the work they had done keeping Marianne and her property safe would be undone if that occurred. Despite their wishes, the weather turned