Packards

by Patricia Burns

  They were passing through Furniture when he heard the tread of heavy footsteps. Beside him, Isobel gasped. He blew out the lamp and pulled her into the gap between two bookcases, his hand over her mouth. She was shaking so much that she could hardly stand. He had to hold her up, pressing her tightly to him as he did so, so that she could feel how much he wanted her. The night watchman walked slowly by, swinging his lamp from side to side as he went. The light glanced off the glass front of one of the bookcases, then passed on. Isobel went limp in his arms.

  ‘That was a close one, wasn’t it?’ he said in her ear. ‘Don’t you find this exciting? It’s as good as a Boy’s Own adventure.’

  He waited until the man was out of earshot, then headed for the stairs again. On the fifth floor he walked with confidence along the dark corridors. There was nothing to bump into here and he knew every inch of the way.

  ‘Can you guess where we’re going?’ he asked Isobel, as they approached his office.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

  ‘Well, you’re wrong. We’re aiming higher than that.’

  He walked right to the end of the corridor, took out his pass key and let himself into his grandfather’s office. Enjoying Isobel’s renewed expressions of horror, he went through Archer’s domain and into the inner sanctum. There across the thick carpet, bathed in moonlight, was his grandfather’s desk.

  It was quite simply the best ever. They did it on the desk, in his grandfather’s chair, then on the desk again. He felt like a god. Nothing now was beyond his reach . . .

  He came back to the present to find his participation was required in the ceremony. He went through it all with a decorum that was noted and approved by both his own and his bride’s family, and finally emerged from the vestry with Sylvia on his arm, a married man. He caught his grandfather’s eye as they walked down the aisle, saw him nod and smile his approbation, and knew that he would now achieve his every ambition. It had all been worth while.

  As she followed her brother and her new sister-in-law down the aisle, Amelie had eyes for only one person in the church: Hugo. They exchanged smiles. Amelie tried to contain her impatience. This was Sylvia’s day. She still had her duties as a bridesmaid to perform. They all emerged into the damp November day. Photographs were taken, kisses and congratulations were given, rice and flowers were thrown, and the bridal couple stepped into the Packard Rolls-Royce for the short journey to Mayfield Hall. Then there were countless new relations-by-marriage to be introduced to and to be nice to. This was particularly hard work since those who wanted to speak to her all seemed to be either leering old men or stupid young ones. She was relieved when the wedding breakfast was announced. The bridesmaids were all seated together, a clump of pink organdie interspaced with suitable young men, which meant that she had a Forbes cousin on each side. Amelie looked down the long tables to try to locate Hugo, and saw the back of his head. He appeared to be in animated conversation with his neighbour, of whom Amelie could only see an elaborate hairstyle. It made her quite sick with jealousy. The meal seemed to go on for ever, course following course and all washed down with champagne that she did not dare drink too much of. For any lady to be tipsy was very bad form, for an unmarried girl to be so was disastrous. There were toasts and speeches – mostly too long, but Edward’s was short and witty – and then the cake was cut, and at last they were all allowed to get up.

  ‘Would you care for a turn around the garden?’ one of the Forbes cousins asked Amelie.

  ‘Thank you, but there’s someone I have to speak to,’ she said, oblivious of his hopeful expression and too eager to escape to think up any more tactful excuse.

  She had hardly got halfway across the room, though, when she was waylaid by her mother.

  ‘Where are you running off to, Amelie? Come and talk to your grandmother and grandfather Amberley.’

  Fuming, Amelie did as she was told.

  ‘You’re looking very pretty today,’ her grandfather said.

  ‘Yes, quite the best of the bridesmaids. In fact I think I may safely say that our side is definitely blessed with the handsomest looks. The bride’s a nice little thing, though,’ her grandmother conceded. ‘Now, when are we going to see you married? Two seasons now and still not engaged. I can’t think what you’re about.’ Grandmother Amberley was nothing if not forthright.

  ‘I’m waiting for the right man,’ Amelie told her, looking over her shoulder to find just where he had got to. She couldn’t see him anywhere.

  ‘Quite right too,’ her grandfather agreed. ‘No need to be in too much of a hurry.’

  ‘If she leaves it much longer she’ll be on the shelf. Look what happened to the Gregson girls. Still single, all four of them. Their mother’s at her wits’ end, poor woman. She’s trailed them through seven seasons. Seven! Your mother won’t be wanting to do that, Amelie.’

  Miraculously, Hugo appeared at her side. A big joyful smile spread itself irresistibly across Amelie’s face. She ached to hold onto his arm with both hands, to reach up and kiss his cheek. Instead, she introduced him, noting the quick assessing look he got from both grandparents.

  ‘I’m delighted to make your acquaintance. I have had the pleasure of meeting Miss Amberley’s Packard relations, and now I hope I shall get to know the other half of her family. Charming wedding, don’t you think?’

  Hugo stayed chatting with them long enough for their expressions to turn from suspicion to approval. Then he got Amelie away from them by saying that he had promised some people that he would introduce her to them.

  ‘The trouble with weddings is that they’re full of relations,’ he said. ‘Is there anyone else I ought to meet?’

  ‘There are some Amberley aunts and cousins, but they’re amazingly boring,’ Amelie said. Then as she spotted some of them looking her way, ‘Quick! Let’s go in here and avoid them.’

  They escaped into the next room. Guests were spreading all over the house now, busily discussing the food, the wedding service, the new relations-by-marriage and most of all, though indirectly, whether the bride or the groom had got the better of the deal. Opinion on this, naturally, divided sharply according to which of them the speaker was related to. Hugo ran an eye over them all.

  ‘Do you especially want to talk to anyone?’ he asked.

  ‘Not at all,’ Amelie said.

  The only person she wanted to talk to was him.

  ‘Good. Would you like to come and walk round the garden?’

  There was nothing Amelie would rather do. They found a side door and let themselves out.

  Amelie drew in a large breath of damp air and let it out in a sigh of relief.

  ‘Thank goodness! If I have to be polite to one more person, I think I shall scream.’

  ‘And if I have to share you with one more person, I might do the same,’ Hugo said. He drew her hand through his arm and set off along a gravelled path. ‘It was very distracting having to look at your back all through the wedding service. I wonder you didn’t feel my eyes on you. I was trying to make you turn round.’

  A hot thrill of pleasure ran through Amelie. She tried to keep her voice light and teasing.

  ‘You’re supposed to look at the bride, not the bridesmaids. Sylvia did look pretty, didn’t she?’

  ‘Not as pretty as you.’

  Amelie had had enough of being told how pretty she looked from everyone else she had spoken to. Now that she had Hugo to herself, she wanted to be able to talk on a different level.

  ‘Strange to think she’s my sister now. Edward’s wife. I hope they’ll be happy.’

  ‘You sound as if you’re not too certain about it.’

  ‘Well – I think they’re very well suited, so I suppose they will be, in their own way.’

  ‘Then surely that is a good basis for marriage?’

  Amelie felt oddly breathless. She had wanted a deeper conversation, she had chosen the subject herself, and found it pitted with possible hidden implications.

  ‘I – suppose i
t is, on the surface. But that wasn’t the only reason for their marrying.’

  ‘Money, you mean?’ Hugo said.

  ‘Yes.’

  Now that he had been so open about it, she could be.

  ‘Money and breeding. Edward has the one, or will do, and Sylvia has the other. It’s a trade. It’s horrible.’

  All that she had disliked about her two Seasons welled up and overflowed.

  ‘That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? All this business of presentations and balls and dinners and so on. It’s so hypocritical. All those strict rules about calling and invitations and exactly what to wear and where to go, who to be seen with, all so terribly formal and correct, when what the mothers are doing is parading their daughters like – like a slave market. I wonder they don’t put out notices. “Nice-looking girl, related to two baronets and a viscount, thirty thousand pounds dowry, only eldest sons need apply.” I hate it.’

  ‘So what do you think should replace it?’

  ‘I don’t know. I just hate all this business about money and families. I think people should get married because they love each other.’

  ‘Even though they might be totally unsuited to each other? An attraction of opposites?’

  ‘At least that would be better than all this cold-blooded trading,’ Amelie said. Then, wakening to the fact that this was a very one-sided exchange, ‘What do you think? You haven’t said anything yet. Do you think I should have married Georgy Teignmereton, because he belongs to an ancient and titled family?’

  They had reached a small shrubbery with gravel paths winding between dripping bushes. Hugo stopped by a stone bench beneath a glossy camellia.

  ‘I think,’ he said, turning to face her, ‘I think you ought to marry me, because I love you.’

  For a long moment, Amelie could only gaze at him, not quite believing her ears.

  ‘Well?’ he prompted.

  A glow of joy started somewhere inside her and spread through her whole body.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I think you’re right.’

  36

  SOMETIMES, WHEN IT was all over, he became quite pleasant. It was as if whatever he had done to her had drained the cruelty out of him. He would talk, then, about the store or about his family, and not expect anything but noises of agreement from her. She was able to lie still and set her mind on the fact that it was finished for the time being and soon he would be gone.

  It was not so easy when they were in the huge draped bed, because of the mirrors. Isobel hated the mirrors. They made it impossible to distance herself from what was going on, for how could she believe that it was not happening to her when she could see herself doing all these vile things? Closing her eyes was no use, for he knew how much she loathed it and made her look. They were lying in the bed now. She tried to unfocus her eyes, to look through or past the naked bodies on the crumpled sheets, or failing that to look just at her feet. But her eyes were continually drawn to the movement of his hand as it ran lazily over her. It made her fearful when he started to do that, for sometimes it meant that he would start all over again, or worse still, demand that she do things to him. Then a name jumped out from what he was saying and her mind was mercifully distracted from watching her own shame to listening to him.

  ‘– Perry’s latest idea. He really is a lazy little toad. Wants it all handed to him on a plate without ever lifting a finger to help himself He always has been like that. Never made an effort in his life. When he was a child he would just charm Mother rather than do anything like learning his lessons to please her. It’s the same now. He expects to live off Packards’ money without doing a thing to earn it. Not that I want him in the store. He’d be nothing but a nuisance. That is something one can say for him, at least he doesn’t try to muscle in on my territory. It was bad enough having Mel pushing her nose in there. Now she really was a danger. She’s got brains, one has to admit, and a good business sense. That idea for Ladies’ Sportswear was a damned good one, I saw that from the start. That’s why I had to move quickly to try to stop it before it took hold. I encouraged Mother to forbid it, but Grandfather overrode her. I could see she was really keen on it. I could see that it was going to be a success. If Mel gets her teeth into something, she doesn’t let go. So I arranged for a nice little water leak. Christ! You should have seen her on that first morning. But she got round it, damn her. When I tried cancelling her orders, she went traipsing off to the darkest East End to see to it herself. And when I tried sacking her staff or transferring them to other departments she just had them reinstated or trained others up – but of course, you know that, don’t you?’

  Edward broke off, turning over and propping himself up on one elbow so that he could look into her face.

  ‘It was sacking you that first brought you to my notice. How very foolish of me to have wanted to get rid of you. That is one contest I’m glad that Mel won. Won temporarily, that is, because I got you out of the store in the end. But do you know who really made me appreciate your possibilities? Perry.’

  She could not prevent a slight gasp. His boasting about trying to sabotage his sister’s department hardly touched her, for she felt totally divorced from that old life now, but Perry’s name still had the power to wound.

  ‘Yes, he spoke about you at Henley, the summer before last. But you see, once I wanted you, he didn’t have a chance. I always get what I want, eventually. I wanted Mel out of the way, and now she’s being taken on very competently by this Rutherford chap. She thinks she’s still going to keep an interest in the store, but that’s hardly likely once she’s got a household of her own to run and starts producing little Rutherfords. So that’s her disposed of. Then I wanted a suitable wife, and I got her. And most of all I want the store, and now it looks as if I’m going to get that at last. Grandfather’s got his knighthood and he’s being approached by no end of bodies to sit on their boards. He won’t be able to resist it. He knows I can do the job. He’ll move over now, and especially since I’m going to give him an heir. You never know with the old boy, but I think I shall be behind his desk by summer. Remember that desk? We christened it well and truly, didn’t we? I think we’ll repeat the experience when it belongs to me.’

  Isobel remembered that evening all right, it stood out as a particularly bad memory amongst all the other horrors and humiliations.

  ‘An heir?’ she said, to distract him.

  ‘Yes. My wife’s expecting. It’s made her very difficult, but it’s worth it to see the old man’s reaction. He was delighted. You mind you don’t get pregnant. I don’t like difficult women. I like women who do exactly as they’re told. You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Isobel whispered.

  ‘Good.’

  He gave her breast a squeeze, making her wince with pain.

  ‘Just remember that, and I’ll have no cause for complaint.’

  Edward rolled over, got out of bed and started dressing. Isobel felt sick with relief. He was going. As he was tying his tie he stopped and looked down at her, an expression on his face that filled her with alarm.

  ‘I shall have to find a way of getting you into the house one day. It would make my nights with her immeasurably more interesting knowing I’d had you in the same bed.’

  She was quite unable to hide the utter revulsion she felt. He smiled.

  ‘Yes, imaginative idea, isn’t it? That will give you something to think about till I come again. No, don’t get up. I shall picture you lying there just as you are, waiting for me to return. Au revoir.’

  Isobel listened for the front door closing after him, then waited another five minutes just to be sure. When she was certain she was safe, she crawled out of bed, put on one of the flimsy négligée Edward had bought for her and went downstairs. Her fingers shaking, she poured herself a small brandy from the decanter. She dared not take too much, in case he noticed. Just a little, to help her to sleep. Then she went and curled up on the couch in the dressing room, trying not to dwell on all that he
had said and done that evening. There was very little she could rest her mind on amongst the miseries of her existence, but she did have the prospect of a visit from Daisy to look forward to. At least he had never found out about those. Without Daisy, she could not have gone on.

  When Daisy did arrive, she was in a combative mood.

  ‘You ought to start making a few demands,’ she said. ‘You must have some power over him. Getting married hasn’t changed him, has it? He still comes just as often. It’s been months now and he hasn’t cooled off. He must be really stuck on you. You could get anything you wanted off of him if you went about it the right way.’

  The very idea turned Isobel’s insides to water.

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t,’ she said.

  ‘Why ever not? Mistresses are supposed to do that. You got to look after your own interests, Iz. Get him to give you some things. Jewellery and that. You want to line your nest a bit.’

  ‘I couldn’t,’ Isobel repeated. ‘He wouldn’t like it. He doesn’t like difficult women.’