'Goodnight.' She looked up into his face. 'You're too tired to drive—take a taxi, Rufus.'
He smiled. 'I'll have to. I came by ambulance, remember?'
Jo smiled back valiantly, but the moment the door closed on him she turned her face into the pillow and wept as though her heart would break.
The nurse mopped her up, and scolded kindly, and after a while Jo stopped crying and asked for another drink, managing to smile when she was promised tea.
'Sorry to be such a misery,' said Jo thickly. 'It's just that. . .'
'I know. But don't worry. Nothing to stop you having another baby.'
Jo brightened. 'Are you suie?'
'Mr Conway will be in to see you in the morning. He'll tell you all you want to know.'
After a restless, uncomfortable night Jo was grateful when the consultant came to visit her quite early next morning. After asking a few questions James Conway examined her, then settled himself on the chair beside her and explained not only what had happened to her, but the exact operation he'd performed.
The sister standing in attendance behind the consultant nodded sagely. 'You were fortunate Mr Conway was on hand in the hospital. Your condition was life-threatening, Mrs Grierson.'
James Conway smiled reassuringly. 'I'm sorry about the vertical scar—I couldn't take time to do a cosmetic bikini job. But I put things right, removed the ruptured tube, and once you've had enough blood you'll be up and about and back to normal far sooner than you think.'
Jo licked her dry lips. 'Mr Conway,' she said, dreading his answer, 'please be frank with me. Does this mean I can't have another child?'
'Good heavens, no,' he said cheerfully. 'It might not be quite as easy with only one tube, but you'll manage. Lots of women do. In no time at all you'll be coming to one of my antenatal clinics.'
Jo doubted this. She looked away. 'Was there anything I could have done, or not done,' she said carefully, 'to avoid what happened?'
'Nothing at all, my dear. One of nature's cruel little tricks, I'm afraid. Don't worry, it's unlikely to happen a second time.' He patted her hand, then got up and strode off to begin on his operating list for the day, his entourage in close pursuit.
Because Jo was in a private room there was no limit put on the number of visitors allowed to see her— something she had cause to regret by the end of the first day. Rufus arrived as soon as the morning round was over, and brought her an exquisite arrangement of autumn flowers, plus a supply of fresh nightgowns, her toilet things, a couple of novels and some magazines.
'No chocolates,' he said, smiling as he bent to kiss her cheek. 'How do you feel, Jo?'
'Better than last night,' she assured him. 'And once they finish pumping blood into me I'll feel better still, I'm told.'
'I had a word with James Conway,' he said, sitting down. He took her hand in his and smoothed the back of it with a long finger. 'He put me in the picture. Said there's no reason why you can't have children in the normal way in future.' His eyes met hers. 'Though after what you went through I imagine the last thing you want is to make the attempt.'
They exchanged a long, unwavering look, then Jo turned her head away. 'The flowers are lovely. Thank you, Rufus.'
'Is there anything else you need?'
'No. You've thought of everything.'
Rufus stood up, looking pale and drawn above the dark, formal suit. 'I need to put in an hour or so in chambers, but I'll be back later.'
She nodded listlessly. 'Thank you.'
'You've nothing to thank me for, Jo.' His mouth twisted. 'Quite the contrary.'
At which point Rose Fielding arrived, and after a quick exchange of greetings Rufus excused himself and went off.
After embracing her daughter Rose Fielding sat down beside the bed, anxious to know every detail of what happened. 'I've told Thalia and Callie, of course, but staved off a visit from them until you feel better. They were all for coming with me this morning, but I vetoed that.' She took Jo's hand. 'Obviously I had to tell them about the baby, darling.'
'It's all right, Mother,' said Jo wearily. 'It's hardly a secret any more.' Tears slid down her cheeks again, and she mopped them up hurriedly. 'Funny, isn't it? At one time I could never cry. Now I can't stop.'
'I shouldn't try. Let it out, darling.' The hand tightened. 'You really wanted the baby, didn't you?'
Jo nodded miserably. 'And now Rufus is stuck with a wife he only married because he got her pregnant. What a mess.'
Mrs Fielding looked stunned. 'Is that how Rufus feels too?'
'How do I know, Mother?' said Jo irritably. 'It's impossible to know what Rufus feels, ever.'
'He was in a terrible state when he rang me last night. Totally distraught.'
Jo nodded morosely. 'Probably felt he'd murdered me.'
'Murdered you?'
'Apparently I could have died.'
'An ectopic pregnancy is nobody's fault, Jo.'
'I know. But he considers it his fault I was pregnant at all, ectopic or otherwise.'
'And was it?' said Mrs Fielding gently.
Jo turned heavy eyes on her mother. 'No. I'll spare you the intimate details, but it was my fault as much as his. I never imagined—' She broke off, biting her lip, and stared at the flowers Rufus had brought her.
Rose Fielding got up and began to unpack the bulging carrier bag she'd brought with her. 'Thalia sent you one of those sex-and-shopping novels and Callie's sending flowers. I've brought you a cookery book.'
Jo smiled reluctantly. 'A cookery book! In hospital?'
'I thought you could swot up some recipes to try out on Rufus when you get home.' Rose Fielding gave her daughter a wry smile. 'Or did you imagine that now there's no baby Rufus would send you post-haste back to your attic to resume a life of single blessedness?'
Since that, in essence, was exactly what Jo had pictured as her future she burst into tears again, and this time her mother took her in her arms and held her close until the storm was over.
The Griersons came to see Jo shortly afterwards, full of good wishes from Rory and Susannah, and both of them so concerned and sympathetic that Jo felt less embarrassed than expected over the pregnancy which had been kept secret from them. George Grierson stayed only a few minutes, but his wife settled down with Rose for a comfortable chat. Jo listened in amusement as between them the two women sorted her life out for her. By the time they left she'd been told that another baby was the best remedy possible to help her get over the first one, and Rufus would be ordered to see to it as soon as Jo recovered.
'I gather my mother's been trampling all over your sensibilities,' said Rufus when he visited her that evening. 'Sorry about that. She means well.'
'My mother was in complete agreement,' Jo assured him.
'You look better tonight,' he observed, relieved.
'Apparently I'll be almost as good as new in a day or two.'
'I doubt that,' he said crisply. 'When you come home I want you to take it easy for a while.'
'Mother brought me a cookery book,' said Jo evasively. 'Apparently I'm to swot up on it in here so I can delight you with all sorts of new dishes when I get home.'
Rufus gave her a smile of genuine amusement for the first time since their honeymoon. 'She's quite a lady, your mother. She wouldn't come and stay with me, you know, nor with my parents.'
'It's nothing personal. She's like me. Needs her space. She's got a list of old chums to visit, and she can invite them back if she's at my place.' Jo smiled at him. 'She works hard at being a trouble-free mother-in-law, Rufus. Hates to think she's being a nuisance.'
'She could never be that,' he said, and got up to look at her selection of literature. A bookmark protruded from one of the thrillers he'd brought her. 'Is it good?'
'Very. My concentration isn't what it might be, but I'm enjoying it.'
'Is there anything else you need?'
'No.' Jo braced herself. 'Would you sit down, Rufus? I'll be discharged in a couple of days. Before then we must talk
.'
Rufus sat down, his eyes expressionless. 'What did you want to discuss, Jo?'
'Our future.'
'Go on.'
'Well—I know you married me because I was expecting your baby.' Jo cleared her throat. 'I'm not any more, so I'd quite understand if you felt you saw no reason to be married to me any more.'
He eyed her expressionlessly. 'Let me see if I've got this right. Now you're not pregnant any more you feel we should separate before we've even begun to be married?'
Jo's eyes fell. 'I thought,' she said rather desperately, 'that you might not want us to be tied together— now there's no need, I mean.'
'Did you really? Is that how you feel?' he added politely.
Since all she longed for was to be married to Rufus for the rest of her life Jo shook her head and looked away, afraid he would read her mind. 'No. It isn't.'
'Good,' said Rufus, leaning forward. He put a hand under her chin and turned her face to his. 'I object — violently—to the idea of a bride who leaves me flat before she's even had time to be my wife. Since we are married, Jocasta Grierson, I don't feel I'm being unreasonable in expecting you to return home with me once you're well enough, and proceed in exactly the same way we intended before events overtook us.'
Jo gazed at him in silence, her heart beating so loudly that she was surprised he couldn't hear it. 'Is that really what you want?'
'Yes, it is,' he said shortly, and got up. 'James Conway says I can take you home the day after tomorrow. In the interim I advise you to get used to the idea.' He stood looking down at her, his face stern beneath the silvered bronze hair. 'My one rash act caused you a great deal of suffering, Jo. But if it's any consolation I suffered too.'
'Did you?'
'Is that so surprising?' Rufus breathed in deeply, his eyes bitter. 'Put yourself in my place for a moment. In the beginning, that first night, I lost control and made you pregnant, then in London, though I gave you my word I would not, I made love to you again and this happened—'
'But not because we made love,' said Jo urgently. 'Nothing made it happen, nor could anything have prevented it. Mr Conway made that very clear.'
'He made it clear to me too,' said Rufus bleakly. 'Which doesn't alter the fact that you could have died as a result of my attentions, one way and another.'
'Rubbish,' said Jo scornfully. 'Is that why you want us to stay married? Because you feel guilty?'
'No, it's not.' He looked at her very steadily. 'I went to great lengths beforehand, Jo, to give the impression that we got married purely because we wanted to spend our lives together. I'm human enough to want to preserve the fiction.' His eyes glittered suddenly. 'And this is where I use emotional blackmail. Fate cut short my first marriage, Jo. When you were rushed into hospital I thought it was going to happen again. But it didn't. So I assume our marriage is meant to last a while.'
CHAPTER NINE
Because Jo had rarely been ill in her life once the usual childish ailments were over, her slow return to normal annoyed her intensely. The scar healed well, the soreness subsided gradually and her blood count was pronounced satisfactory, but she felt tired and listless, and, worst of all to Jo, was plagued by a tendency to tears. Hormones, she told herself, and took enormous care to prevent the tears getting the better of her in company with Rufus, who was adamant she needed rest.
'Try not to overdo things,' he ordered her.
'I'm strong as a horse normally.'
'This isn't normally. My mother keeps telling me you need cosseting.'
'What a lovely word!'
'You'd be cosseted to death if my mother had her way,' he warned, grinning. 'Now Rose has gone back, Mother would be here all day long, given half the chance, force-feeding you egg-nog and beef tea.'
'How sweet of her,' said Jo, touched. 'But if that's why you're dashing home at regular intervals all the time you needn't. I'm fine on my own.'
'You want me out of the way so you can get back to your computer,' he said accusingly.
'No.' Jo looked away. 'I don't want you out of the way.'
'Good.' He paused as though waiting for her to say more, then went to the door. 'I'll see to dinner.'
'I can do that—'
'No, you can't. Not yet.' Rufus gave her his maddeningly superior smile. 'Besides, I didn't say I was cooking it; I'm having it sent over from that new Italian restaurant.'
Sharing a house—and her life—with Rufus proved far less stressful than Jo expected. Little by little she discovered she had more in common with him in many ways than she'd had with Claire, which made her feel guilty. Though less guilty now there was no baby. Nor was there likely to be. The second Mrs Grierson slept alone in her handsome bed.
In spite of Rufus' deep disapproval Jo began working on the draft of her novel as soon as she felt well enough, helped enormously by the fact that Rufus asked his mother's cleaner to lend a hand at Beaufort Crescent two mornings a week.
'If you must get back to your computer at least let me smooth your path a little,' said Rufus. 'Now Rory's left home Mother doesn't need Dolly every day.'
Help in the house was a new departure for Jo. Such a luxury had never featured in her mother's household, though both Thalia and Callie had a 'little woman'. Dolly, as Mrs Beryl Dalton was known to the Griersons, was anything but little. She was a tall, heavily built woman with boundless energy and good humour, and got through the housework at such speed that she had time over to do the ironing or peel vegetables, or whatever else she found to occupy her before she went home, including making soup for Jo's lunch.
Life assumed a pleasant, livable routine, and two months into her semi-detached but surprisingly amicable marriage Jo professed herself as satisfied with her novel as she was ever going to be.
'Polishing it up has taken so much longer than I expected,' she told Rufus over dinner that night.
He looked up. 'Hardly surprising in the circumstances.'
'Actually,' said Jo with care, 'having the novel to work on was a big help. With my convalescence, I mean.'
'Once I laid down the law!'
'You were a pig,' she said, eyes kindling. 'Just because I was still at my computer when you came home a couple of evenings—'
'Only because you looked hellishly tired!' Rufus eyed her dispassionately. 'You still do sometimes. Take a break once you've sent your manuscript off.'
'I probably will, for a bit,' she assured him, swallowing resentment at his tone. "Though the next story's already mulling round in my mind. Don't worry,' she added hastily at the look he gave her. 'I've got lots of research to do before I actually start writing again.'
'I'm pleased to hear it,' he said drily. 'When do you go back to James Conway?'
'Tomorrow.' Jo looked down at her plate. 'Hardly necessary, really; I feel perfectly well.'
He stretched out a hand and caught her wrist. 'But you'll go,' he stated.
Jo nodded, resigned. 'Yes, I'll go.'
Jo parcelled up her novel and sent it off to Diadem with something of a wrench, as though part of herself had been posted with it. Afterwards she drove off to keep her appointment with James Conway. The gynaecologist gave her a thorough examination, pronounced himself satisfied with her recovery and told her to carry on with her life normally, both in the bedroom and out of it. Jo thanked him and hurried home, glad that the consultant had no idea that life in her particular bedroom was a very solitary one. Rufus had rarely crossed the threshold since the day of her mad rush to the hospital.
Without the routine at her computer to shape her days, Jo felt at a loose end for a while. But gradually she evolved a new daily programme. Afternoons were kept for research, but in the mornings she walked round to Elizabeth Grierson's for coffee or went Christmas shopping with her. Some days she met Susannah for lunch during her sister-in-law's break from her job as fashion buyer at one of the town's large department stores, and Jo also paid regular visits to the flat in Bruton Road to make sure all was well. But she had no inclination to return th
ere to work. It seemed sensible to stop paying the rent, but Jo couldn't quite bring herself to burn her boats entirely.
'I had a letter from Diadem today,' she told Rufus one night.
'Already? What did they say?'
'It was just a receipt for the manuscript.' She smiled wryly. 'My heart did a somersault when I saw the Diadem logo—it was a horrible let-down.'
He smiled. 'You probably won't hear for a while yet.'
'It's bound to be rejected,' she said, sighing, then grinned philosophically. 'Not that I'll let that put me off. I'll keep trying until I get lucky.'
Eventually Jo stopped lying in wait for the postman and turned her attention to Christmas arrangements.
The previous Christmas the entire Fielding family, including Jo's father, had celebrated Christmas with Thalia and Charlie in their elegant apartment. This year both Thalia and Callie were committed to Christmas with their respective in-laws, and were making their mother's life a misery with their worry over her yule arrangements. Jo shut them up by telling them she'd taken it for granted their mother would come to Beaufort Crescent for the festive season, and was invited to accompany Rufus and herself to the Griersons' for Christmas dinner.
Rose Fielding thanked her youngest daughter with rapture. 'Now perhaps the girls will get off my back,' she said in relief.
'Apparently Christmas is a big thing in the Grierson household,' Jo told her mother. 'It should be fun.'
'How very kind of Elizabeth. I'll write a little note. And I'd love to come to you, Jo,' said Rose, 'but on one condition. I sleep in your flat.'
'Oh, Mother,' said Jo, exasperated. 'There's plenty of space here—the guest room's never been used.'
'It's nice to be invited, but you know what I'm like. Humour me. Now then, how are you—really?'
'I'm fine. Mr Conway discharged me last time as perfectly fit.'
'Good. Do you agree with his verdict?'
'Oh, yes—except for deep depression when the postman doesn't deliver a letter from Diadem.'
But there was no news from Diadem before Christmas, which was a feast celebrated with much enthusiasm in the senior Grierson household. Rufus collected Rose Fielding mid-morning from Jo's flat so that the three of them could open their presents together over a light early lunch before joining the Griersons for Christmas dinner. While he was gone Jo stoked up the fire Rufus had lit first thing in the sitting room, savouring the short interval to herself before the day began in earnest.
The Second Bride Page 11