The Bonds of Matrimony

by Elizabeth Hunter

  Hero reflected on this as she made her way along Kenyatta Avenue towards the little bookshop nearby. Farm life had never left her much time for hobbies and distractions, but she had always been fond of reading and the boys who ran the bookshop had found her a good customer in the past, when she had visited them regularly to choose a selection of books with which to pass her few spare hours. The stock could hardly be called up-to-date and still contained many volumes on farming lore which had not been disturbed for many years and were never likely to attract a customer. But there were still many good things amongst them and, besides, Hero liked to browse whenever the opportunity

  came her way.

  She was greeted with broad smiles of welcome as she entered the small shop and, after the usual inquiries about the state of her health, the boys offered her a cup of tea - a mark of favour bestowed upon only a few customers. Hero accepted gratefully and, cup and saucer in hand, she wandered to the far corner of the shop to investigate some piles of books in the hope of finding some reading which would take her mind off her current problems.

  She was completely absorbed and the sound made by the opening of the shop door to admit another customer failed to register with her until she heard one of the African assistants greet that customer loudly.

  ‘Your book has come in, Mr. Carmichael. Shall I wrap it for you?’

  Hero froze. He must not see her! She lowered her head and crept further into the shadows.

  ‘No, I’ll take it as it is.’ Hero turned a fraction of an inch so that she could watch him pay for the book. After that he would go out - he had to go out! He did nothing of the sort. He accepted his change with a slight smile that grew broader as he looked in her direction.

  ‘Why, Hero, how lucky to find you in here!’ he exclaimed as if it were the most natural thing in the world. ‘Now I know why you’re always late when I arrange to meet you in this part of the town.’ He turned back to the counter assistant who had just served him. ‘Miss Kaufman and I are going to be married —’

  Hero started, spilling her tea in the saucer. She breathed.

  The look he gave her was kindly, almost pitying. ‘Didn’t Betsy tell you I was expecting you for tea? Never mind, you can come along now.’ He winked at the assembled staff of the bookshop. ‘We have to name the day,’ he explained to them. ‘I don’t want to wait any longer than I have to.’

  The Africans grinned. ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Ready, Hero?’ he went on coolly.

  Hero faced him. ‘Didn’t you get my letter? Betsy— If you saw Betsy, you must have got it.’ He looked amused. ‘She did say something about your having written to me some kind of a love letter, but, as I told her, anything you have to say to me you can say to my face. I tore it up there and then and gave her back the pieces. It couldn’t have been very important when we only settled everything at lunchtime yesterday. What did it say?’ He grinned easily. ‘Or shall I tell you? I’ll bet it was a nice, ladylike thank-you letter for giving you lunch yesterday. Well, am I right?’

  Aware of the interested eyes all round her, Hero nodded. What else could she do? She could hardly give him his conge in the full public eye. In fact she didn’t think she could do it at all if she had to look him in the eye at the same time. Whatever had made him tear up her letter? Was it possible that he had known? But that wasn’t possible. Only Betsy had known what was in the note, and Betsy would never have betrayed her at such a traumatic point in her affairs. Hero heaved a great sigh of relief.

  ‘I haven’t seen Betsy this afternoon, so she couldn’t have told me about your expecting me to tea,’ she said aloud.

  She pulled out a large, heavy textbook, turning it over

  in her hands, not bothering to pretend to look at it.

  ‘You going to take that, Miss Kaufman?’ one of the Africans asked her, splitting his sides with laughter.

  Hero looked at him with surprise. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. She made no protest when Mr. Carmichael took the book away from her and restored it to its position on the shelf.

  ‘You don’t want that!’ he said, very sure of himself. ‘You’d never plough through it! If you want something to read, choose yourself a few paperbacks and, if you promise to agree to an early wedding, I’ll pay for them.’

  ‘I don’t think I want anything,’ Hero muttered.

  ‘Meaning you’re not going to play?’

  ‘I don’t like being hurried when I choose the books I want to read. It takes me ages to make up my mind.’ She cast him a surreptitious look to see how he was reacting to this confession. ‘I don’t want to keep you waiting.’

  ‘Then let’s go and I’ll feed you instead,’ he said.

  ‘You don’t have to,’ she said. ‘I can go ages between meals - like a camel. If you’d rather walk—’

  ‘I don’t get offered cups of tea in shops!’ The old-fashioned look that accompanied the remark made her laugh.

  ‘I don’t usually either,’ she confided, ‘but they’re always nice to me in here.’

  ‘You must be a good customer.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ she acknowledged. ‘There’s not all that much to do on the farm except read, and ride, and that sort of thing.’

  He took her arm, opening the door for her, and bowing with a grin to the intrigued assistants in the shop. Hero tried to step away from him once they were safely out on the pavement, but he tightened his grasp, smiling at her with a look of mischief in his eyes.

  ‘You won’t find it easy to get away from me now, Miss Kaufman.’

  She thought that she had already discovered that. She was conscious of his touch on her arm.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked.

  ‘Where would you like to go? The New Stanley’s Thom Tree cafe?’

  She nodded. What did it matter after all? She knew now that she would never raise her courage sufficiently to make it clear to him that she was not going to marry him, whatever the advantages to herself. When he had torn up her letter, he had tom up her one route of escape. She just couldn’t look him in the face and tell him. He would laugh at her for a simpleton and dismiss her objections as foolish nonsense and she would be in exactly the same position as she was now.

  The Thom Tree was a pavement cafe, but happily they were able to find a table in the shade and Hero was so glad to be free of his firm grasp on her arm that she sat down with a positive sense of relief, allowing her eyes to stray round the other customers in case there was anyone else there whom she knew.

  ‘Oh, look!’ she said with a great deal of nervous excitement. ‘There’s Bob Andrews. You don’t mind if I have a word with him, do you?’

  ‘Friend of yours?’ Mr. Carmichael drawled.

  ‘Sort of,’ she admitted. ‘Ah, he’s coming over here.’ She bounced up and down in her seat to attract the young man’s attention. She liked Bob Andrews and she knew that he liked her too. At the moment, like everyone else she could think of, he was more than half in love with Betsy and he had found Hero a noble ally in the cause. She didn’t mind in the least being used as a stalking horse for his real objective and they had had a lot of fun together, plotting Betsy’s conquest at his hands. He was the one person whom Hero allowed to kiss her, knowing that he meant nothing by it, and when he greeted her now, planting a smacking kiss on her lips, she made no objection at all, but merely hoped that Mr. Carmichael had noticed.

  ‘Bob, this is Mr. Carmichael. Mr. Carmichael, Bob Andrews,’ she introduced them, with a-sidelong glance at the man she was to marry, her dark eyes darker still with triumph.

  Mr. Carmichael rose slowly to his feet. He was not so tall as Bob and not so obviously handsome but, somehow, he made all such considerations seem remarkably unimportant. Hero tried to persuade herself that he looked insignificant, but he didn’t. On the contrary, he had quietly dominated the whole situation with a brief smile and a firm handshake.

  ‘It’s Benedict Carmichael. I prefer Benedict to Ben, but so far, I haven’t persuaded Hero to u
se either name — ‘

  Bob Andrews was completely at home. ‘She’s naturally shy!’ he teased Hero. ‘Her mother was always telling her about the dreadful things that befall forward girls! Like — ‘ he screwed up his face into a thoughtful expression - ‘like getting involved with men she knows nothing about! Forward girls can expect nothing but the worst—’ He became aware of Hero’s urgent signals to shut up and stared at her scarlet face. ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked her.

  ‘Nothing!’ she disclaimed.

  Benedict Carmichael gave her an amused look. ‘Something awful has befallen her,’ he announced. ‘She’s engaged herself to marry me as soon as we can arrange it. Perhaps you’d care to come along for the ceremony?’

  Bob’s jaw dropped. ‘I don’t believe it!’ He looked both upset and embarrassed. ‘Does Betsy know ?’

  ‘Betsy introduced us,’ Mr. Carmichael answered with a small smile. ‘You don’t have to worry about Hero, Bob. She’s quite safe in my hands.’

  The young man’s brow cleared. ‘Oh, I’m sure she is!’ he protested. ‘Only she’s had a few wild ideas lately and I was afraid you might be one of them. I suppose she’s told you about the farm - must have done! She couldn’t go on there by herself. The truth is that we’ve all been a bit worried about her, but if she’s going to get married, we needn’t bother any more. It’s better than anything!’ He looked curiously at Benedict Carmichael. ‘I don’t suppose you’re British, by any chance? Because that would make it quite perfect for Hero-‘

  ‘British to the core!’ Mr. Carmichael assured him.

  Hero raised her eyebrows at them both, across the table. ‘It’s nice to know that I mean so much to you!’ she said to Bob. ‘You sound positively glad to be rid of me.’

  He grinned at her. ‘Well, so I am! Betsy was convinced you were going to do something daft. She says you’re as Greek as your mother when it comes to getting the bit between your teeth. Don’t you be taken in,’ he added to Mr. Carmichael, ‘she may look all meek and biddable on the surface, but she’s a deep one for all that! Her parents were the talk of Kenya. They absolutely adored one another when just about nobody else even pretended to have much time for their respective spouses - Kenya was famous for that sort of thing, you know - and Betsy says that Hero will be just the same, devoted and passionate.’

  ‘Bob!’

  Mr. Carmichael threw back his head and laughed. ‘I think I can take it!’ he murmured.

  Hero burned with indignation. ‘It isn’t like that at all!’ she blurted out. ‘And as for you, Bob, I wish you’d go away!’

  ‘What do you mean, it isn’t like that?’ the young man demanded. ‘What is it like? Hero, are you up to something?’

  ‘Of course not!’ she denied. Her eyes flew to Mr. Carmichael, seeking his help. The funny thing was that she was almost sure that she could rely on him to cover up for her and that when she had to admit that he didn’t have to. He could quite easily have explained that she was marrying him to become a British national and that he thought her an adventuress and didn’t either like or admire her, but she knew he wouldn’t do that. And he didn’t.

  ‘As you said yourself, Hero is shy,’ he drawled, with such confidence that Hero could quite easily have believed him herself. ‘It’s all been rather sudden and she hasn’t got used to the idea yet.’ She was conscious of a mocking glint in his eyes. ‘I don’t suppose she’ll ever kiss easily in public, but in private she more than lives up to Betsy’s expectations of her!’

  Hero knew that it was no good wishing that the earth would swallow her up, but she simply couldn’t imagine how she would ever hold up her head with Benedict Carmichael again. She pulled herself together with difficulty. ‘I even call him Benedict in private,’ she

  ‘Do you now?’ said Bob. He smiled at her with genuine affection. ‘I’m glad. It’s been a rotten year for you and you were more than due for something nice to happen to you. I wish you every happiness, my dear.’

  Hero made a strangled sound, but Mr. Carmichael was comparatively unmoved. ‘I don’t want to push you, old chap, but Hero and I have a lot to talk about. She wants to hurry back to that farm of hers, and I want to go with her to make up our minds what we’re going to do with it, and that means getting married as soon as possible.’

  Bob nodded agreeably, standing up at once. ‘You won’t be able to do anything with the farm. It’s in the drought area. Didn’t Hero tell you? Nothing will grow there now!’

  ‘We haven’t had time to talk about anything much yet,’ Mr. Carmichael returned, which was nice of him, Hero considered, for she was well aware that she had deliberately kept to herself the state of her inheritance when she had offered it as a bribe for him to marry her.

  ‘I suppose not,’ said Bob. ‘See you both later, I hope. Betsy’s invited me round for drinks tomorrow evening

  - I’ll probably see you there.’ He sketched a salute with his hand, pausing by Hero’s chair to give her a friendly pat on the head. ‘I’d better not kiss you again with your fiance looking on!’ he teased her. ‘That’s one of the pleasures you’ll have to give up for the delights of matrimony. Good-bye, honey!’

  Hero managed a stuttered good-bye in reply. This was worse than anything she had expected. What was she to do?

  ‘Tell me about the farm, Hero,’ Mr. Carmichael’s voice interrupted her thoughts. ‘I gather it isn’t quite the dowry I expected?’

  ‘No,’ she admitted.

  ‘How bad is it?’

  She had expected him to be angry, but he wasn’t obviously so. She eyed him covertly, wondering how she was going to explain to him about failing rains and ruined soil. Did he know what it meant when the one rainstorm they had had in the last three years had washed away most of the topsoil her father had laboured long and hard to protect, exposing the roots of their precious trees and killing the grass and the few crops they had been able to grow.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I thought you wouldn’t find out until afterwards. The rains may come this year — ‘ ‘Have you slaughtered all the cattle?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not yet. My father was experimenting with his own breed and I couldn’t let them go. I was hoping, when the time came, that it would be someone else’s decision. I did try to sell them to a farm

  further south, but the deal fell through.’

  ‘I suppose you’ve had the usual troubles with erosion?’ he queried.

  She started. He was no fool. ‘How do you know about that?’

  ‘Did you imagine that I would accept your offer blind?’ he observed. ‘I’m reasonably familiar with everything your father tried to do, my dear. I know about the Kaufman specials, for instance. They sound an interesting experiment.’

  ‘Then you knew I was offering you next to nothing by offering you the farm?’ How much else did he know?

  ‘Yes, I knew,’ he agreed. ‘I imagine it looks all right on paper, or you could make it do so, and that was all right with me. I’m well able to look after myself, and I soon came to the conclusion you were asking for everything you get if I took you up on your offer. I don’t think you deserve much consideration from me, do you?’

  She supposed she deserved that. ‘No,’ she said. ‘But you don’t understand. I hadn’t thought about you as a person at all! I told you I couldn’t go through with it, but you wouldn’t pay any attention. I wrote to you — ‘

  ‘I still want the farm. It will suit my purposes very well. How soon can you get yourself ready to marry me?’

  She stared at him, a little frightened of his calm. ‘As soon as you like,’ she managed.

  ‘Next week?’

  She nodded. This week, next week, some time, never; what did it matter? She would soon be in England and then she would never have to see him again.

  ‘Thank you for making it sound - ordinary to Bob,’ she said, not looking at him. ‘I didn’t want him to know — ‘

  ‘Think nothing of it,’ he said. ‘You’d do the same for me, wouldn
’t you?’

  Well, of course she would! At least she hoped she would - but would she? ‘I don’t suppose you’d ever want me to,’ she said. ‘You wouldn’t want your girl to think you were in love with someone else, would you? And it wouldn’t arise with anyone else!’

  Benedict Carmichael said nothing at all. He ordered tea for two and an ice-cream for her, just as though he were taking his niece out to tea, and when Hero said she didn’t want milk in her tea and wanted lemon instead, he raised his brows and grinned at her, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking, and he put milk in her tea all the same and handed it to her as though she hadn’t said anything about it at all! And she drank it without another word, hoping that he would never know she hated lemon tea. But she wouldn’t have put it past him to know everything there was to know about her!

  ‘Next week,’ he confirmed. ‘I’ll make all the arrangements and let you know.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  They were married early on the Tuesday morning. Hero had rejected all thought of a church wedding out of hand with a fierceness that had surprised nobody as much as herself. She had thought that nothing mattered to her any more, and to find that there were some things that did and, what was more, mattered very much to her, was rather shattering. It had become more and more impossible to discuss anything sensibly with Mr. Carmichael as the week had progressed and there were some things she knew she had to make clear to him before she actually became his wife because, afterwards, he might not give her any say in such things, and then it would be too late to stand by the ideals she had held all her life long.

  She hadn’t chosen her moment for this confrontation very well. Benedict was in a hurry and she felt a perfect fool. Really, the more she thought about it, the more ridiculous she felt. ‘It won’t be a real marriage,’ she accosted him, meeting him in the doorway of Betsy’s parents’ house and realizing that, for once, they were alone. ‘I couldn’t agree to that!’