Wife for a Penny

by Anne Hampson

  ‘Explain that question,’ he snapped, tensely impatient.

  ‘She called on me a couple of days after you left. She seemed terribly upset about our marriage.’

  He frowned.

  ‘How the devil did she come to hear of it?’ He spoke softly, to himself, and Liz only just caught the words.

  ‘Servants,’ she returned briefly, and Nigel nodded his head in a grim sort of way. He looked down at Liz. She was as scantily-clad as on the occasion of his cousin’s visit, but as she intended taking advantage of the sun she had decided she must acquire an immunity to the stares of any Greek male who happened to see her.

  ‘You had a conversation with Greta? Why didn’t you mention it earlier?’

  ‘We didn’t have much opportunity of discussing your amours,’ she rejoined tartly, deriving intense satisfaction from the sudden glint of anger which entered his eyes. ‘We were concerned with a much less pleasant matter!’ His eyes raked her figure - and for some reason she could not explain Liz swung quickly over on to her back. The action brought a smile of sardonic amusement to her husband’s lips before he moved away, making for the gate leading out of the grounds. Liz followed his tall figure till it was lost, wondering where he was going. To Greta’s? Why should she waste her time pondering on his movements? They could never be of interest to her, just as hers could never be of interest to him.

  Why had he married her? Liz asked herself again, at the same time shrugging angrily because she felt she would never find an answer to the question. What a provocatively obstinate man he was! - deliberately forcing her into marriage and then refusing to say why. Spiros did not know what he was talking about, Nigel had implied, but Liz felt sure Spiros spoke the truth. With the possibility of a broken engagement between his half-brother and Vivien, Nigel had decided the wills must be contested, and the arranging of this was the sole purpose of his visit to England. Musing on this for a long while, an idea suddenly occurred to Liz which made her sit up with a jerk, her blue eyes opening very wide. Could it possibly be that the kiss had given Nigel an appetite for more ...? There was no doubt that he thoroughly enjoyed that kiss ... and the feel of her body against him, judging by the almost primitive way in which he held her. She had speculated on whether his motive in suggesting marriage had stemmed from desire, Liz recalled, and now, as she sat there, in the sun, with peace all round and only the murmur of insects to break the vast silence, she experienced a tinge of apprehension. Supposing Nigel should decide to ...? But he’d supplied her with her own bedroom. Had that been his intention then surely he would have arranged things differently right from the start.

  Impatient, and still slightly apprehensive, Liz got up and went into the house to get dressed.

  On coming out of her bedroom into the hall she heard the phone ring and went to answer it.

  ‘Nigel,’ came the harsh voice from over the line. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘My husband’s out. Can I take a message?’

  ‘I phoned earlier and told him I wished to see him. Why hasn’t he come?’ Liz held the phone away from her ear. So Nigel had not gone to see Greta. Liz smiled faintly. If Greta had spoken to him in this manner Liz could very well understand why he hadn’t. ‘Where is he?’ Greta’s voice was now high-pitched and shrill. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘I’m afraid I couldn’t say where he is,’ returned Liz at length. ‘Would you like me to give him a message?’ she asked again.

  A small silence. Liz could fairly see the anger on Greta’s face.

  ‘Yes. You can tell him I’ll be calling on him this evening—’ She broke off, then Liz heard a very different tone as Greta said, ‘Nigel - you’ve come! Nigel, why did you ...?’ Another silence and then the receiver clicked. Liz replaced hers, allowing herself a satisfied little smile. She had no need to worry about Nigel’s amorous tendencies. Greta would satisfy those, as she had done for the past two years — or so Spiros implied.

  Spiros called later and Liz invited him to stay to tea.

  ‘Where’s Nigel?’ Spiros asked on first approaching Liz from the terrace fronting the house. ‘I know he’s back; Mother saw him in his car.’

  Some mischief entered into Liz and she said,

  ‘He’s gone to see his girl-friend.’

  ‘He’s—?’ Spiros stared for a moment and then shrugged. ‘Yes, I suppose he had to. I wonder how she’ll take it - being thrown over, I mean?’ There was a malicious note in his voice which made it clear that Greta had never been popular with Spiros.

  ‘Perhaps,’ murmured Liz as they sat down at the table, ‘she won’t be thrown over.’

  ‘She’ll cling to Nigel, you mean?’ Spiros shook his head. ‘You’ve not known Nigel very long - but you must have learned enough to be sure that if he intends throwing Greta over then she’ll be thrown over.’

  ‘He might not intend throwing her over.’ The words were out before Liz realized it and she searched her companion’s face to see what effect they had on him. That he was both amazed and puzzled was evident. He seemed to deliberate on her suggestion for a long while before he spoke.

  ‘Of course he’ll throw her over—’ Spiros looked at her, a frown on his brow. ‘You’re so calm about Greta. Aren’t English women jealous? A Greek woman would rave and storm if she knew her husband had gone to see his ex-pillow friend.’

  Liz hesitated. Immersed as she was in anger against her husband she would dearly have loved to give rein to her spite and tell Spiros the whole story, but of course she refrained. If she forgot to keep their secret she would answer to him, Nigel had said, and much as she would have liked to ignore that warning, Liz felt her nerves must assuredly suffer from a prolonged campaign of discord with her husband.

  ‘I haven’t a jealous disposition,’ she offered at last, aware of Spiros’s continued stare of puzzlement and interrogation. No more was said about the matter, for at that moment Nigel appeared, striding across the lawn like some magnificent deity of a long departed age. His slim body moved with the sort of smooth rhythm one would associate with wings; his face carried the sculptured lines so magnificently portrayed in the face of Apollo himself. Behind Nigel rose the perpendicular walls of the Phaedriades in all their harsh, convulsed splendour. The vast unreal silence of this sacred place affected Liz’s senses and in spite of her thorough dislike of the man she found her imagination stimulated in a way that could only be described as flattering to him. A figure out of place in this mundane world, he seemed, his long arms swinging, his black hair tousled slightly and falling on to his low aristocratic brow. No doubt about it, there was a certain peerless nobility about him which Liz had never before encountered in a man. He would look more at home on Olympus - among the gods, she thought, her mind wandering, out of control for a space as she imagined him as a lover. Masterful and demanding, he would make no attempt to curb his primitive instincts - or even to temper them by the application of a little finesse ... or would he? After all, he was no novice, apparently—Colouring to the roots at her thoughts, Liz shut them off, lowering her head as her husband reached the patio and took the three steps in one easy graceful leap. He was looking at her, she sensed it, but dared not raise her head until her face had cooled.

  Nigel sat down; the two men began to talk, Spiros wanting to know all about the marriage and saying how surprised they all were - the aunts and uncles and cousins, including those several times removed. Nigel was friendly but non-committal and presently Spiros gave up. Nigel, Liz soon gathered, was a law unto himself and although some of his actions might surprise his relatives and friends, they were accepted with resignation, and any criticisms or comments were kept from Nigel’s ears.

  Nigel clapped his hands imperiously and Nikos appeared.

  ‘Bring me some tea,’ Nigel ordered, leaning back in his chair and regarding his wife’s bent head inscrutably. She glanced up, hoping her colour had returned to normal. She was in a gay cotton dress, low at the neck and very short. Her hair was a cloud of gold and silver, framing a face th
at had turned heads ever since Liz could remember. But flattering glances fell away unheeded, and the fact that she had been described as ‘too tough to handle’ troubled her not at all. On the contrary, she was rather proud of the fact that men fought shy of her, and had scoffed on that one occasion when a discouraged suitor had roundly declared that the day would dawn when she would meet her match.

  ‘I hope I’m around when that happens!’ was his final bitter comment.

  Liz had laughed in sheer amusement. This one had tried so very hard to arouse in her some pliancy and feminine softness, but like the rest he had failed utterly.

  ‘Then you’ll have to stay around for a long while,’ was her confident and heartless retort.

  Nigel continued to stare at her, then his gaze wandered and he took in every graceful line and curve of her body. She flushed again and his eyes flicked her face with taunting amusement. Her mouth went tight. Control was difficult, for her temper was unpredictable at the best of times. If only Spiros had not been present she would have told Nigel in no uncertain terms to keep his mocking glances to himself!

  However, Spiros was there and after the three had been engaged in a casual conversation for a short while Spiros mentioned the projected trip to Athens. At this Nigel’s eyes flickered in the oddest way, and unaccountably Liz felt a sudden stir of uneasiness.

  ‘You’ve arranged to go to Athens together ... and stay overnight?’

  ‘That’s right. I thought you’d still be away, but it won’t matter, will it? - unless you want to come too,’ added Spiros as an afterthought, and his cousin’s black brows lifted a fraction.

  ‘Thanks for the invitation,’ he retorted, leaning away from the table as Nikos appeared with the tea-tray.

  Spiros looked slightly put out then, becoming faintly apologetic.

  ‘Have I said something I shouldn’t? I mean, there’s no harm in Liz and me going to Athens, is there? We are cousins.’

  Liz was watching Nigel intently. Why the proprietorial manner all at once? Why should he care where she went - or with whom? It was none of his business, anyway.

  ‘Of course there’s no harm in our going to Athens together,’ she said in firm and even tones. And she added, simply because she had to, ‘Nigel’s just as broad-minded as I am—’ She smiled at him with a sort of acid sweetness. ‘Aren’t you - dear?’

  An almost imperceptible sound reached her ears and she could scarcely contain her laughter as she realized Nigel was gritting his teeth.

  Ignoring her question he said, in a very soft tone,

  ‘I hate to be a spoil-sport, but I can’t have my wife running all over Athens with my bachelor cousin.’ He flicked a sideways glance at Liz and added, ‘It just isn’t done in my country - and Spiros is well aware of that.’

  ‘No such thing!’ objected Spiros with some indignation. ‘It is done - with relations.’

  ‘With relations, perhaps.’

  ‘Isn’t Liz a relation?’

  ‘Undoubtedly - but not sufficiently close for the kind of trip you were planning.’

  Liz flushed angrily. Impossible to retaliate with Spiros’s being here, and Nigel knew this. All she could do was to send him a speaking glance - from which, to her added annoyance, he appeared to derive some considerable amusement. How, wondered Liz clenching her fists unconsciously, was she going to tolerate this insufferable man for the rest of her life?

  ‘You’re serious, Nigel?’ Spiros looked disbelievingly at his cousin. ‘We’re staying only the one night—’

  ‘Liz is not going with you to Athens,’ his cousin cut in with crisp finality. ‘Let’s hear no more about it!’ He poured himself a cup of tea and leant back in his chair with it, deliberately avoiding Liz’s eyes. This threatened to spark off her smouldering anger, but she somehow managed to contain herself until the departure of their visitor.

  ‘And now,’ began Liz almost before Spiros was out of earshot, ‘perhaps you’ll explain! The arrangement was that both you and I go our own ways. I’m not interfering with you, and I’ll thank you not to interfere with me. I’ll go out with whom I like!’

  ‘It so happens,’ said Nigel helping himself to a sandwich, ‘that I’ve invited some friends to dinner on Saturday evening. Naturally you will have to be at home.’

  She glanced suspiciously at him.

  ‘I’m not at all sure I believe that.’

  ‘You’re saying I’m a liar?’ Nigel’s tones were dangerously quiet.

  ‘I believe you just thought it up on the spur of the moment - so you’d have an excuse for objecting to my going away with Spiros.’

  ‘An excuse isn’t necessary. If I say you’re not going away with Spiros then you don’t go. And that’s what I am saying - you don’t go!’

  ‘I—!’ Black rage seized her. Clear-headed thinking was totally submerged by it and wild unconsidered words tumbled from her quivering lips. ‘You dare to attempt to give me orders! I’m neither your subjugated wife nor your eager willing mistress! If you want to tyrannize over someone then go to her! Doubtless she thoroughly enjoys being bullied, otherwise she wouldn’t be so anxious to keep you!’

  An awful silence followed, the freezing chill of her husband’s rising fury affected Liz in spite of herself and involuntarily she shrank back in her chair. Slowly and deliberately Nigel placed his cup and saucer on the table and, with the same unhurried deliberation, he rose and moved round the table to stand looking down at her for a long and dangerous moment. And then with a lightning move he had her on her feet and she was shaken until the blood pounded in her head.

  ‘Speak to me like that again and you’ll be black and blue.’ His voice was surprisingly quiet - but awesomely so. White lines of anger had crept under the tan of his face and his eyes were hard as serpentine. ‘In my country a woman respects her husband - and it’s my intention that you shall learn to respect me!’ Releasing her, he at the same time gave her a thrust which sent her staggering back into her chair, her heartbeats wildly out of control. ‘I’ve a good mind to insist on an apology.’ He remained standing over her, his expression one of indecision. This was too much for Liz and she just had to say, her voice high-pitched with fury,

  ‘You can dismiss the idea at once, for you’ll get no apology from me!’

  His eyes glinted, he looked like Satan himself, thought Liz, and wondered why she had been so foolish as to marry him. But on entering into the contract she had had no notion he would act in this unpredictable way. The marriage, a purely mercenary contrivance, would leave them both practically unaffected. Of necessity she must live in his country, but that was all ... or at least Liz had believed that would be all. Why this assumption of mastery? She would learn to respect him, he asserted - and he meant it too, Liz had no illusions about that. She never would respect him, of course, but undoubtedly Nigel believed he could coerce her into doing so.

  Moving away at last, Nigel sat down.

  ‘I warned you, right at the beginning, to take care.’ The indolent drawl which had so irritated her on several previous occasions now replaced the cold fury in his voice and he leant back, his immaculate white linen shirt contrasting with the dark blue covering of the garden chair in which he sat. ‘I might as well give you an extra word of warning, Liz,’ he added, casting her a sideways glance which greatly increased her irritation. ‘This is that nothing would afford me greater satisfaction than to chasten you by physical force, it’s always having been my firm conviction that women, like animals should be beaten into submission—’ He broke off, laughing at her expression. For undoubtedly it did seem that Liz would go off into a convulsion, judging by the purple tinge creeping into her cheeks, and the slow spasmodic clenching and unclenching of her hands. And yet through the haze of dark venom possessing her she sensed he was not quite as serious as he would have her believe. Was he deriving fun at her expense? Liz ground her teeth and said in a suffocated voice,

  ‘I don’t quite know what you’re about, but if you continue this little game yo
u’re playing—’

  ‘Game?’ Nigel quirked an eyebrow at her. ‘My dear Liz, I assure you I’m in no mood for playing games. Never in my life have I been more in earnest. Either you learn to act as a woman and not as a shrew, or you take the consequences which,’ he added in accents softer and more emphatic, ‘will, I assure you, be far from pleasant.’

  She stared at him, thankfully aware of the calmer, more even rhythm of her heartbeats. His strength, she had previously owned, was not a thing to be scorned, and despite the fury which still possessed her she made a mental vow to practise a little discretion in future, for she had no desire to find herself subjected to another exhibition of his violence.

  Liz continued to hold his gaze. He puzzled her intensely, this man who, having travelled to England for the express purpose of contesting his great-grandfather’s will, had changed his mind, for no apparent reason, and, quite unnecessarily, chosen to marry her. Marriage ... it was so important a step to take, just like that, without thought. And being half Greek, and a member of the Greek Orthodox Church, he knew that on taking that momentous step he was binding himself for life to Liz, knew he would never be free again and that should he ever meet someone with whom he could fall in love his life would be ruined. Yes, his behaviour had been most odd indeed, mused Liz, sensing a mystery more acutely than ever. This man was certainly an enigma to her. She sighed at last and said, without much hope of receiving a satisfactory reply,

  ‘Do you mind explaining what this is all about? It would appear on the surface that your objective is to – er - reform me, and I’m most interested to discover the reason.’

  Nigel flashed her an amused glance.