She searched his eyes, seeing only love and confusion and pain, but no doubt. Not a shred, not a trace of any doubt.
‘No. No, there’s no reason not to be together, and I can’t do this without you, either,’ she admitted softly.
‘So you will marry me?’
She hesitated. This wasn’t what she’d expected, what she’d dreamed of. That night in Paris, if he’d asked her then—or down in Berkshire on Saturday, maybe. But now? For expediency?
‘I don’t want to rush you,’ he said softly. ‘You obviously need to think about this.’
‘No. I don’t need to think about it. I love you, of course I do. I just wish…’ She trailed off, and he sighed.
‘So do I, but we don’t have the luxury of choice. So is that a yes?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, Andrew, it’s a yes,’ she said, and burst into tears.
He gathered her up against his heart, wishing he could make it different for her, for all of them, but he couldn’t, so he just held her, unable to make any promises bar the one that he would love her for the rest of his life.
‘Hey, come on,’ he murmured. ‘You’re soaking me and I don’t have another shirt here.’
She laughed, a strange, hiccuping little laugh, and let him go. ‘You’d better phone Will, he’ll be worried.’
‘Yes. Look, I’ve got a lot to do today—will you be all right now?’
She nodded. ‘I’ll be fine. Can we talk tonight?’
‘Sure. My car’s at Ashenden. Will drove me in. I hit the brandy a bit—can you drive me out there and we’ll tell my parents?’
Her eyes widened in what looked like panic. ‘Really?’
‘Really. And I want to marry you soon—as soon as I can. There’s no going back on this for me, Libby, I want you to know that. I’ll find out what the rules are and let you know. OK?’
She nodded, and went up on tiptoe and kissed his freshly shaved and slightly nicked cheek. ‘You’ve cut yourself,’ she murmured, and he fingered the little slice in his jaw and smiled.
‘Yeah. Must have been thinking about something else. I’ll see you later—give me a call when you finish.’
Amy was waiting for her, and her face lit up with relief.
‘Oh, Libby, I’ve been so worried! I was going to ring you, but—are you OK?’
‘I’m fine,’ she said, dredging up a rather weary smile for her friend. ‘I’m sorry I worried you. I was just…’ She trailed off, not knowing how to explain without giving all the details, the thought that she was to marry Andrew still filtering through to her exhausted and emotionally drained mind.
‘What on earth happened?’ Amy asked. ‘You looked so awful—I thought someone had died.’
She shook her head. ‘No. It was just…’
Amy waited, then smiled. ‘It’s OK. Tell me when you’re ready, but if you need to talk, or a shoulder to cry on, just yell.’
‘Actually, I do,’ she said, her eyes welling up again. ‘Can we do coffee later? I’ve got so much to tell you, and I don’t really know where to start.’
‘Better make it lunch, then,’ Amy suggested with a wry smile. ‘My treat.’
Amy sat in silence while Libby explained, and for once there wasn’t the slightest hint of eager anticipation, just a quiet watchfulness that made Libby realise she’d underestimated Amy all along.
‘So—how pregnant are you?’ she asked eventually, when Libby ground to a halt.
‘I don’t know. It could have been anything up to four weeks ago.’
‘Four—but that must have been the weekend of the birthday!’
She nodded. ‘I didn’t really know Andrew before the weekend, but I’d been so aware of him since I first met him, and suddenly there we were together, having an amazing time, and—well, it just happened. And we’ve been together ever since.’
‘Wow. I thought you looked different, but I didn’t realise how different. And then you decided to go for the test. Why? Why then?’
‘Because we realised we were falling in love, and—you can’t go into a relationship with that kind of uncertainty.’
‘But you’re going to marry him now?’
‘Yes.’
‘And not just for the baby?’
She shook her head and smiled. ‘No, not just for the baby. I love him, Amy. He’s a wonderful person, and he makes me laugh, and he makes me happy. But I’m so scared for the baby.’
Amy shook her head. ‘Don’t be. There are so many more treatments these days, and it’s still possible to have a good and meaningful life with DMD. OK, it’s progressive and there’s nothing you can do about that, but there may be, in time. There might be some way of stopping the muscle wasting in the future, and with a paediatric nurse and an orthopaedic surgeon for parents, how could he do better? You’ll be brilliant parents, whatever the future holds for your baby—and, anyway, you might not even be a carrier, so you could be worrying yourself sick for nothing.’
All of which she knew, but it still preyed at the back of her mind all day, and when she picked Andrew up at five-thirty she was feeling sick with exhaustion and emotion.
‘Do you really want to talk to your parents tonight?’ she asked, and he nodded.
‘We won’t be long. I’ll pick my car up and we’ll go back to my house, OK, and talk it all through?’
She nodded. ‘We need to feed Kitty now, then,’ she said, and they did that on their way to Ashenden.
Will was crossing the stableyard as they pulled in, and he came over to them, smiling warily.
‘Hi. Everything OK?’ he asked, and Andrew gave a soft laugh and hugged her to his side.
‘Yes. Everything’s OK. I’ve asked Libby to marry me, and she’s said yes.’
Will’s eyes swivelled to hers, and his smile widened, lighting up his eyes as he reached for them and hugged them both, slapping Andrew on the back and laughing.
‘Excellent. Go and tell the parents, they’ll be overjoyed. ’
‘You haven’t said anything?’
‘What—and steal your thunder? I should think not. Go on, go and tell them the glad tidings, and I’ll fetch Sally and we’ll come and have a drink with you in a minute.’
‘I’m not drinking,’ Andrew said wryly, and with Will’s chuckle echoing in their ears, they turned and went into the house.
‘Andrew, Libby! How nice to see you! You should have said you were coming, I could have cooked for you.’
‘It’s fine. We’ll eat later. Actually, we’ve got something to tell you. Can we sit down?’
His mother’s eyes missed nothing, scanning them both before returning to his face. ‘Does this need the drawing room, or will the kitchen do?’
‘I would have thought the kitchen would be fine,’ he said with a smile, and beside him he felt Libby relax a little. ‘Put the kettle on, Mum, and come and sit down.’
They settled round the table, and he told them, in edited terms, the good news and the bad news, in that order.
His mother’s face crumpled briefly, and then she stood up and came to Libby and hugged her tenderly. ‘Sweetheart, I’m so sorry, but we’re here for you, whatever the result of this, and if there’s anything we can do to help, in any way, at any time, then you must ask. Please, promise me you’ll ask.’
‘I promise,’ she said, touched to her heart by this woman’s compassionate kindness and warmth. ‘And I’m sorry it’s a little unconventional.’
Jane flapped her hand and smiled. ‘Andrew was “early”,’ she said with a chuckle. ‘You aren’t the first and you won’t be the last, and we couldn’t have had a better, stronger, more loving marriage. So—when’s the wedding?’
‘As soon as possible,’ Andrew said firmly. ‘We haven’t talked about the sort of wedding we want, but we do agree on that, don’t we? Don’t we?’
He shot her a questioning glance, and she nodded, suddenly sure that this was the right thing to do, even though the result was still hanging over them, because this was no longer about
some theoretical question but about a real baby, and a real love.
‘Yes, we do,’ she said, just as firmly. T don’t know what Andrew wants, but I’d like a quiet church wedding, if possible. My mother and her husband are in Ireland, and my sister’s in Cumbria with her husband and her little girl, but apart from them and Amy and a few others who I work with, there isn’t really anyone much. A few old friends from when I was training, that’s all.’
Jane was settling down with a notepad and pen.
‘Right. The four of us, Libby, Sally, Libby’s mother and stepfather, Libby’s sister and husband and daughter, Amy, Chris and Louise Turner—you met them at the party, our GP.’
She nodded. ‘Yes. I liked him. Isn’t his wife the vicar?’
‘Yes, which is really handy. Anyone else?’
‘Not imperative, no,’ Andrew said. ‘Of course there’s always Cousin Charlotte…’
The mischievous twinkle was back in his tired, red-rimmed eyes, and Libby chuckled.
‘Poor Cousin Charlotte. She’ll be heartbroken.’
‘She will—you’re unkind to her, Andrew,’ his mother chided gently.
‘She’s fixated. She needs to get over herself. How many is that?’
‘Fourteen.’
Libby nodded. ‘That sounds OK—oh my neighbours. He’s been really good to me and she’s lovely. Oh, and there’s a cousin, Edward,’ she added, looking up at Andrew. ‘I met him at the funeral. I don’t know if he’ll be able to come. He may not be well enough.’
‘We’ll ask him,’ Andrew said gently.
‘That’s seventeen. I’m sure there will be a few more, but we’ll keep it under twenty,’ Jane promised. ‘Leave it to me. I’ll find out when the church is free—fifteen clear days, isn’t it? Or three Sundays? Does it have to be a Saturday?’
‘Any day suits me, I don’t mind,’ Andrew said. ‘I’ll book it off as soon as we’ve agreed a date with the church.’
‘I’ll phone Louise now and find out the technicalities, ’ Tony said, getting to his feet. ‘Andrew? Could we have a word?’
They left the room, and Jane looked up from her list and smiled. ‘I’m so glad it’s you. I really wondered if he’d ever settle down. I had no idea about the fertility issue. I wonder what made him check it?’
Libby had no intention of discussing that with his mother, but it was a rhetorical question, the woman who’d given birth to him and raised him much more concerned with the impact it had had on his life.
‘You know, I always felt there was something wrong, but I couldn’t put my finger on it,’ she murmured. ‘I mean, he’s always been so strong on family, so loyal and dutiful, and I know he grumbles about this old place, but he loves it, really, and I know it’ll be in safe hands when we’re gone.’ She met Libby’s eyes.
‘You do realise, I take it, that you’ll be Lady Ashenden when that happens?’ she said gently, and Libby felt her mouth open.
‘Oh, good grief, I hadn’t given it a moment’s thought,’ she said, panic washing over her. ‘I can’t possibly—’
‘Can’t possibly what? Love my son and raise your children here in this lovely, draughty old house? Of course you can, my dear. It’s a wonderful place for children, just a great big adventure playground. And, anyway, we have no intention of handing over the reins for years, so relax and enjoy yourself and worry about it when we get carted off in a box.’
‘Who’s getting carted off in a box?’ Tony asked, coming back in with Andrew, and Jane laughed.
‘Nobody, yet. So what did Louise say?’
‘We can be married here in the chapel so long as there’s a registrar attending, because we don’t have our own register, and we’ll need a notice of marriage, so provided we do that first thing tomorrow, we can be married here two weeks on Friday.’
By which time, she thought, her heart pounding, she would know the answer. Even though it wouldn’t change anything, she wanted Andrew to know what he was taking on—the fact, not the possibility. Suddenly, perhaps because she’d been reminded of Edward and his abrupt exit from her life, that had assumed a greater importance.
‘Two weeks on Friday sounds fine.’
‘Right. Libby, you may have your own ideas, but—I’d be so pleased if you’d let me do your flowers.’
Flowers? She hadn’t even thought about flowers, but it suddenly came home to her in a rush that she was getting married, to a man she loved with all her heart, and his family were welcoming her with open arms.
‘Thank you, that would be lovely,’ she said, her eyes filling, and as she and Jane stood up and hugged, Will walked into the room with Sally, and they grinned.
‘I take it you aren’t being disinherited, then, bro’? Never mind,’ Will said, and they all laughed, but Andrew’s arm slid round her and hugged her close, and she knew that whatever happened, whatever fate had in store for them, it would be all right, because they’d have each other…
He eventually got her away from the family and back to his house.
‘I’m exhausted,’ she said. ‘Don’t cook, I only want a bit of toast.’
‘OK. There’s something I want to say to you first, though, and I know it’s a bit cock-eyed and back to front, but…’ He swallowed hard, feeling suddenly ridiculously uncertain, and, taking her hand, he knelt down in front of her on one knee and stared up into her bemused, strained, beautiful eyes.
‘I want you to forget everything except us,’ he began. ‘Because this is about us, and about nothing and no one else. I love you, Libby. It started when you were dancing with Will and I was so jealous of him, and it hit me like a truck in Paris. I’ve tried to rationalise it, tried to talk myself out of it, and I can’t. I love you, really love you, and it’s a love that won’t go away, won’t fade, won’t weary. I want to watch you grow old, I want to see you with grey hair and wrinkles, still smiling at me over breakfast, still loving me back the way you do now.
‘I want to be with you for the rest of my life, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health. I need you. You’re my other half, and I know I said I was never going to marry, but I can’t imagine how much it would have hurt me to let you go, or how I would have done it.
‘I know I’m crabby sometimes, and I’ll probably get a lot worse as I get older, and it means you’ll end up living in a heap of dry rot some day, but I swear I will do everything I can to make you and our children happy, and to care for you, if you’ll do me the honour of being my wife. Will you, Libby? Will you marry me?’
She stared down at him, her eyes filling until his dear, beloved face was just a blur, and then she knelt down in front of him and went into his arms.
‘Oh, Andrew—of course I’ll marry you! I can’t think of anything I want or need more than to be with you for ever. Of course I’ll marry you. I’d be honoured.’
He hugged her, then released her gently and put his hand into his pocket, pulling out a ring.
A beautiful ring, three diamonds in a row in a simple, antique setting, which he slid onto her finger. ‘It was my great-grandmother’s ring,’ he said softly. ‘I didn’t know if it would even fit you, but it can be altered if necessary.’
But it wasn’t. It fitted perfectly, sparkling through her tears, and bringing fresh ones that welled up and spilled over. ‘Oh, Andrew, it’s beautiful!’ she whispered. ‘Oh, thank you!’
‘You’ll have to give it back one day,’ he said with a wry smile, ‘when our son’s getting married.’
And then she remembered, remembered that if they had a son, he might not ever live to marry, and her tears fell again, mingling with his as they held each other tight and hung on.
‘I can’t zip my dress up—honestly, I can’t believe how much my bust has grown!’
‘Let me—there. You look fabulous,’ Amy said, standing back and grinning broadly. ‘Fantastic. You’ll knock his socks off. Doesn’t she look great?’
Libby’s mother nodded, then her eyes filled with tears and she hu
gged her daughter gently. ‘You look absolutely beautiful, darling. Gorgeous. He’s a lucky man.’
Oh, lord, I hope so, she thought.
There was still no news. The clinic was open, she could ring Huw Parry, but she didn’t want to, not now, not so close to the wedding.
The results were taking for ever, and she’d been so sure they would have been back in time, but they weren’t, and in an hour’s time she was marrying Andrew with the uncertainty still hanging over them.
‘Is that your mobile? I’ll fetch it.’
Her heart crashed against her ribs, and she took the phone from Amy as she ran back upstairs with it, staring at the number in consternation.
It was Huw.
‘Who’s ringing you?’
‘God knows.’ He pulled his phone out of his pocket and stared at it. ‘Libby.’ He flipped it open. ‘Hi, darling, what’s up? Libby? Libby, for God’s sake, talk to me.’
‘I’ve got the results,’ she said, and then started to cry again, incoherent.
He shut the phone and stared at Will. ‘She’s got the results. I’m going over there.’
‘Not on your own, you’re not. I’ll drive you.’
For once he was glad that Will had no fear and that there was no traffic on the road—and apparently no police. They pulled up outside her house and he was out of the car before it stopped, running up her path and pounding on the door.
‘Libby! Let me in!’
The door opened and she fell into his arms, her face awash with tears. ‘Oh, Andrew!’ she wailed, and sobbed into his shirt front.
‘What?’ he demanded, freeing himself and holding her at arm’s length, desperately trying to work out what she was saying, but she was laughing and crying so hard he couldn’t understand a word.
The Surgeon's Miracle / Dr Di Angelo's Baby Bombshell Page 16