A Marriage Has Been Arranged

by Anne Weale

  ‘A lovely day, thank you. How was your day?’

  ‘Tedious. I need a pick-me-up. Let’s go to the bar.’ He took her elbow and swept her in that direction. ‘I’ll have a stiff gin and tonic. What would you like?’

  As soon as he had ordered their drinks, he turned and gave her a slow, caressing appraisal. ‘You have the glow of a woman who’s enjoyed an orgy of shopping...second only to that other well-known glow effect. Hopefully, while we’re in Venice, you’ll radiate even more beautifully.’

  The implication made Holly blush, but she found herself thinking that what she would like, instead of dinner, would be to be taken upstairs to her luxurious room and made to glow like that tonight.

  ‘I’ve arranged for us to have our first course and main course before the theatre and come back for the rest after the play,’ he said. ‘Now tell me what you’ve been doing. Where did you go and what did you buy?’

  She told him about the film star who had been autographing copies of a probably ghosted autobiography in Hatchards, and seeing a royal duchess buying presents in Harrods toy department.

  ‘What were you doing there?’

  ‘Just having a look. Then I met Chiara for lunch and told her my news.’

  ‘How did she react?’

  ‘With amazement. They’re going to Spain for Christmas so she wasn’t offended at not being asked to our wedding.’

  ‘I have to tell you that the slob she’s with at the moment will never be welcome under any of my roofs,’ Pierce said bluntly. ‘Of course you’re welcome to see her as often as you wish, but as I am never likely to enjoy her company it would be sensible, if you ever want her to stay with you, to have her when I’m abroad.’

  ‘Will you be abroad a lot?’

  ‘Fairly often. Sometimes you can come with me. But in many Third World countries there are health risks I would rather you weren’t exposed to, particularly when we decide to have children. I think we should start by having a year or two to ourselves. How do you feel about that?’

  ‘In the circumstances we probably do need more time to get used to each other than an ordinary couple. Anyway Talavera won’t be ready for two years. I assume that will be our main home, once it’s ready.’

  He nodded. ‘The pollution level in London makes it no place for babies, if there’s a better alternative. I had a country childhood. I’d like the same for my children. Which reminds me—I called my parents today to tell them about us. Later my mother faxed a letter to you.’ He felt in an inside pocket and produced an envelope. ‘Don’t read it now. Keep it for later. If you want to write a reply, the hotel will fax it for you. The number is on the letter.’

  ‘How nice of your mother,’ said Holly. ‘Wasn’t she rather upset at your marrying someone they haven’t met?’

  ‘She trusts my judgement. Her main reaction was pleasure that I’ve finally found a wife. I’m the last of her brood to marry. She was getting worried I was never going to meet Miss Right,’ he said, smiling.

  His mother wouldn’t be pleased if she knew the truth, thought Holly. But clearly he hadn’t explained that. Somehow she didn’t think he would lie to his parents and wondered what he had said to convince them that she was Miss Right while avoiding saying he was in love with her.

  During dinner, at a corner table sufficiently far from its neighbours to make private conversation possible when the staff weren’t near, he returned to the subject of children, this time raising the question of which of them should be responsible for the postponement of her first pregnancy.

  It wasn’t a matter which, at this stage of their relationship, she found easy to discuss.

  Seeing her embarrassment, he said, ‘You have had a close relationship with a man before, haven’t you?’

  At her nod, he went on. ‘Then I’d guess it was you who made sure no unplanned babies resulted. From what I know of you, I can’t see you taking any chances.’

  It struck her as a strange remark in view of the fact that, in marrying a man who didn’t love her, she was taking a gigantic chance.

  She was glad when the discussion ended for, although she knew it was important to talk over everything affecting their future together, in some respects she felt as shy of him as if she had had no experience. His assurance, his air of authority, the deference with which he was treated all combined to remind her that although eleven years was not a huge age gap it gave her a lot to catch up with in terms of sophistication and savoir-faire.

  ‘Have you found your dress yet?’ he asked, on the way to the theatre.

  ‘Yes, but don’t ask me where. I want it to be a surprise.’

  ‘You will have to tell me the colour so that I can order suitable flowers. Or perhaps you’d rather I put you in touch with the florist so that you can discuss it directly.’

  The play they saw was a revival of a comedy of upperclass manners first produced in the fifties. The characters’ witty repartee and the actresses’ glamorous clothes put the audience in a happy mood. But although she enjoyed the performance there were moments when Holly’s attention wandered from the stage to the tall man sitting beside her. Although, the night before, she had wept in his arms and been warmed and reassured by his sympathy, he was still very much an enigma to her. She felt it might be years, if ever, before she penetrated the deepest recesses of his nature.

  When, back at her hotel, they had concluded their meal, he didn’t linger.

  ‘I expect you’re missing Parson and I’m sure he’s missing you. Come round tomorrow morning and reassure him that you haven’t vanished from his life. Come and have breakfast with me.’

  They said goodnight in the lobby where, this time, he took her hands and kissed them both in turn.

  When she returned to her room, Holly remembered the envelope in her bag. The thick envelope bore the name and address of Pierce’s organisation, but the single sheet of thin thermal paper inside carried a New England address.

  The letter was typed but began with a handwritten ‘Holly—what a pretty name’.

  It went on:

  I can’t tell you how happy we are to hear that our youngest son has finally found the person he needs to make his life complete. Of course we are longing to meet you and hope that will happen very soon after your honeymoon.

  Pierce tells me you have lost both parents and have been on your own for a long time. Soon you will be a most welcome member of our large family and, from what my son tells me, a wonderful addition to it. Has he mentioned my garden and how much pleasure it gives me? How wonderful to have a daughter-in-law who not only shares that interest but is a trained garden designer. I can’t believe my luck.

  Robert, my husband, joins me in wishing you both as much joy as we have had since we married forty-five years ago. We think marriage is still the best recipe for happiness.

  It was signed ‘Marianne’.

  Holly was touched and encouraged by the warmth the letter conveyed. That Pierce came from a large close-knit family seemed a good augury.

  She felt she should reply at once and sat down at the writing table to compose an appropriate answer. After several false starts, she wrote:

  Dear Mrs Sutherland,

  It was so kind of you to write and welcome me to your family. Your son is such an exceptional man that I can’t help wondering if I am up to his weight. But I shall do my very best to be a good wife to him. I, too, hope that it won’t be long before we meet. Thank you again for your kindness in writing to me. Yours very sincerely, Holly.

  The writing paper provided by the hotel included headed sheets and blank sheets. She used one of the latter to copy out the letter in her neatest writing, putting ‘Working at’ and her Norfolk address at the top.

  By now it was after midnight, but she took the lift down to the lobby and asked the night porter if the letter could be faxed immediately, knowing that now, in New England, it was early evening and her future parents-in-law might be having a drink before their meal.

  ‘Certainly, madam,’
said the porter. ‘And your room number, please?’

  Holly went back upstairs, where she used the electric kettle on the side table to make a cup of hot chocolate and also ran a warm bath. But they didn’t combine to make her drowsy. She was wound up to a high pitch of excitement, not only by the unaccustomed taste of London night life and the realisation of how different her future as Pierce’s wife was going to be, but also by a disturbingly strong longing not to be lying on her own but to have him with her, or to be with him in his bed.

  An unsatisfied longing for love was something she had felt before, but never very strongly. Engrossed by her work, often tired out by hard physical labour, she had never been obsessed by sex as some of her friends from her college days seemed to be whenever she was in touch with them.

  Perhaps it was partly because she wasn’t wound up by sexy films and the books they laughingly called ‘bonkbusters’. She never went to the cinema, hardly ever watched TV, and mainly read gardening books.

  But tonight was different. Several hours in Pierce’s company had left her with the feeling that the evening hadn’t ended as it should. She had wanted to feel his arms round her, his lips on her mouth, his fingers stroking her neck as they had the night before.

  Lying in the darkness of the unfamiliar room with its double-glazed windows and heavy interlined curtains shutting out any traffic noises and her own quickened breathing the only sound she could hear, she wanted more than the controlled caresses he had given her so far.

  She found herself longing, urgently, for the night of her birthday when he wouldn’t need to restrain himself. What he might do to her then, what feelings he might arouse sent a long, delicious shudder through her. As her body quivered and burned in anticipation, she began to wonder if Pierce might hold the key to the emotional equivalent of a locked room, a part of herself no one else had ever discovered and even she hadn’t realised was there.

  Next morning Parson greeted her with loud purrs and loving head-butts against her legs as she crouched down to talk to him.

  She had picked him up and was cuddling him in her arms when Pierce said, ‘If I had rung you last night, an hour after I left you, would I have woken you?’

  ‘No, I was still awake...thinking about the play,’ she added untruthfully.

  ‘I was thinking about you...wishing I had stayed with you, or brought you back here.’

  She flashed him a startled glance then looked quickly away, unable to meet the fierce light in his eyes.

  He came close to where she was standing with the cat in her arms.

  ‘Will you hold me like that?’ he asked softly.

  Holly’s throat seemed to close up. Even if she had known what to say, the constriction would have prevented her from speaking.

  He came closer until Parson was like the filling in a sandwich. Taking her face between his hands, Pierce said commandingly, ‘Look at me.’

  She obeyed and was instantly mesmerised by the look he bent on her. Once, at the very beginning, she had thought his eyes cold. Now they seemed like windows into a fiery furnace.

  ‘I want you,’ he said, in a low voice. ‘I’ve wanted you from the moment I called you a prig and you damn nearly lashed out and hit me. But I’ll wait till we get to Venice, till you’re my wife. I don’t like to run with the herd. I like to do things my own way.’ Softly, he traced the line of her cheekbones with his thumbs. ‘We’re probably going to be the first and last couple in years who haven’t been to bed before the wedding. But it’ll be worth the waiting. You’re going to remember your wedding night for the rest of your life...I promise you that.’

  It was Parson, beginning to wriggle, who brought an end to the moments of motionless silence which followed that husky-voiced pledge. Pierce removed his hands from her face and stepped back to allow the cat to drop lightly to the floor.

  At the same time Hooper appeared with a tray of breakfast things.

  After Pierce had indicated that she should follow the butler, Holly said, ‘I think I’ll go back to Norfolk this afternoon. I’ve got a few more things to buy...tights to go with my dress and so on...but I am still a working woman and can’t take too much time off if I’m taking a long break at Christmas.’

  The butler was on his way to a large, light conservatory. While he was transferring the things on the tray to a breakfast table already spread with a crisp cotton cloth, Pierce asked her, ‘With a project like the one you’re working on now, how are you paid? In instalments?’

  ‘Yes. The clients wanted me to oversee the job from start to finish but obviously, during the winter, there are periods when the weather holds up progress. I worked out what it would cost me to live locally and added what I felt was a reasonable fee for the time I was likely to be actively involved. They accepted the total and we arranged to split it into three instalments. They’re out of the country themselves at the moment. As soon as they’re back, I’ll explain what’s happened. I’m sure they’ll be very understanding and it shouldn’t make a lot of difference.’

  After being dropped by Pierce in Bond Street, Holly spent the morning buying underwear for Venice. She didn’t waste money on an expensive nightdress which she knew she wouldn’t be wearing, but she did buy herself a new dressing gown: not a frilly feminine number, which she didn’t think Pierce would like, but a plainly styled robe of silky-looking striped rayon, the predominant colours violet and deep dark red.

  After a sandwich lunch, she went back to the hotel, from which she had checked out earlier, to collect her case from the baggage room. Then she took a taxi to Pierce’s house to put Parson in his basket and say goodbye, for the time being, to Hooper and Louisa.

  On the afternoon before her wedding, she returned to the same hotel in time to bath and change for a dinner party given by Mrs Shintaro. Ben was going to be there and Holly was curious to know what was happening to his love life. He hadn’t called her since the day they had lunched together and Pierce had been markedly cool towards him.

  In the interval since her last visit to London, Pierce had called her every day, but his manner had been matter-of-fact. He had never repeated the things he had said to her on the last morning at his house, or made any similar remarks.

  When he arrived to take her to Fujiko’s apartment, she was wearing an outfit she had happened to see in the window of a country dress shop after mailing her Christmas cards from the nearby post office.

  It was a colour she never normally wore—the bright red of holly berries. But at this time of year it seemed appropriately festive. Surprisingly cleverly cut for the price, it clung to her figure in a way that contradicted the long sleeves, the conservative length of the skirt and the modest depth of the V-neck.

  When, having stayed in her room until notified of Pierce’s arrival, she stepped out of the lift and walked to where he was waiting, he didn’t come to meet her. She could see that he was surprised, but whether favourably or unfavourably she couldn’t be sure.

  Her wrap, a black lambswool shawl with a braided edge, was folded over her arm. In her other hand she had a small black purse with, inside it, the slip of plastic which unlocked the door of her room.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, smiling, lifting her cheek for his kiss.

  ‘Hello.’

  As he bent towards her, she caught an elusive whiff of some fresh-smelling aftershave. He always looked and smelt cleaner than other people. She had never seen him with hair that didn’t look recently washed. His nails always looked as immaculately scrubbed as a surgeon’s.

  ‘I’ve never seen you in red before. That’s a terrific dress.’ He was looking at the way it was moulded to her breasts and hips.

  ‘Thank you.’ She shook out her wrap. ‘It was mild when I arrived but perhaps it’s colder out now.’

  He had come in a taxi, no doubt in order to drink more freely than he would if driving. Outside the hotel, the same taxi was waiting to take them on to the party. As she stepped in and settled herself in the far corner, Holly wondered if, on the way
there, he would kiss her again.

  The interval since their last meeting had seemed far longer than it had actually been. He had stirred something in her which now wouldn’t leave her in peace. She had thought of little else but their honeymoon and his promise to make their wedding night unforgettable. Now their arrival in Venice was less than twenty-four hours away.

  ‘Did you drop Parson at the house? I haven’t been back since this morning. I knew I’d be running late so I took a change of clothes to the office and had a shower there,’ he said as the taxi moved off.

  ‘Mr Hooper told me you had a lot on today. Are you bushed? Is a party the last thing you want?’

  ‘The sight of you in that red dress revitalised me. I just wish this trouble in Africa hadn’t blown up right now. There’s been enough strife there already without a fresh outbreak.’

  Holly had seen a newscast on the TV in her room. But, preoccupied by this important juncture in her own life, she hadn’t paid much attention or realised that trouble in one of the African countries might affect his organisation.

  ‘We could postpone our trip if you feel you ought to stay here,’ she said.

  ‘Are you kidding? Postpone my honeymoon? Not damn likely.’

  He moved to the centre of the seat to take possession of one of her hands and hold it in his on his thigh.

  His fingers were warm and, close to him, she could sense the strength of his vitality almost as tangibly as the heat from a radiator. It took more than a long, busy day to diminish his driving force.

  ‘This time tomorrow we shall be in my place in Venice,’ he said, lowering his voice, although the glass partition behind the driver was closed and he couldn’t hear them. ‘You’ll be the first person to stay there. It’s a part of my life I’ve never wanted to share before.’

  Somehow this made her feel such a strong rush of love for him that she couldn’t control the impulse to snuggle against him, bending her cheek to rest on his shoulder for a moment as she said, ‘I’m longing to be there.’