The Made Marriage

by Henrietta Reid

  With a sigh of resignation Kate was about to give the history of the burnt soda-cake when he said slowly, ‘Don’t bother. I think I know what you were up to.’

  She followed his gaze and saw, to her embarrassment, that Bedsocks had not been idle during her encounter with Owen, and now sat complacently beside the hole she had busily scraped open revealing the withered fossil which only bore the smallest resemblance to having once possessed the contours of a soda-cake.

  ‘But what is it?’ He released her and gazed at the object with interest.

  ‘It was a soda-cake,’ she replied in a small voice, ‘but it got burnt while I was dusting the sitting-room.’

  ‘So it appears! But why go to all that trouble?’ he asked. He seemed puzzled and faintly amused. ‘Why not simply dump it, or if you didn’t want any identifiable remains to exist, simply give it to the poultry?’

  ‘The idea did cross my mind,’ she admitted, ‘but I thought perhaps it might give them indigestion.’

  For the first time she saw a glimmer of amusement pass over his bony and impassive features. ‘Don’t you know it’s almost impossible to give farmyard poultry indigestion? You’d be amazed at the things they pick up on their travels.’

  ‘Well, no, I didn’t,’ Kate said in an interested voice, hoping the discussion would now centre on the peculiarities of poultry rather than revert to the wretched soda-cake.

  But to her dismay Owen bent down and picking up the remains of the soda-cake placed it in his pocket. ‘I shall keep this as a memento of you, so that some day when you’re back in England and I’m regretting that Mrs. Murphy isn’t a pretty young girl in a frilly apron, I’ll take it out and have a look at it and console myself for your loss by remembering what a rotten hand you were at baking.’

  ‘Thanks!’ Kate snapped, all embarrassment disappearing at the ungallantry of the remark. But then it was typical of him, she told herself hotly as, in silence, she accompanied him back to the house, preceded by the treacherous Bedsocks. No man could be more unlike the Owen Lawlor who had written so tenderly on those green sheets of paper!

  As they went through the orchard gates a car drew up and a hard-featured and elegantly dressed middle-aged woman got out and moved towards them.

  ‘Aunt Alice!’ Owen sounded surprised and a little sardonic. ‘It’s not like you to honour us with a visit.’

  But his aunt ignored his words. Her eyes were firmly fixed on Kate with such a look of outrage that Kate felt herself wilt. ‘So this is the young woman! Do you realise, Owen, that’s it’s all over the countryside that you’re sharing house with a strange young woman? I realise, of course, that it was my irresponsible son who instigated the whole wretched affair, but at the same time I’m amazed that you hadn’t the decency to get rid of the girl before the story became a subject of sniggering gossip.’

  Completely ignoring this speech, he said mildly, ‘This is my aunt, Mrs. Fitzpatrick, Kate.’ Then, turning to his aunt, he said easily, ‘As you appear to know all about Kate, I suppose there’s no point in introducing her.’

  ‘None whatsoever,’ Mrs. Fitzpatrick said furiously, as she pulled off her gloves. ‘And might I point out, Owen, that you should have a proper servant to answer the door. I was knocking for ages and then had to drive into the yard.’ She looked about with distaste at the untidy jumble of half sawn logs, the old disused trap and milk chums under the open shed, the straw that straggled from the open stable door.

  There was a short pause and Owen said, ‘Won’t you come in and have a glass of sherry? I’m sure,’ he added, ‘you’d rather discuss your problems in the more civilised atmosphere of the sitting-room.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps it would be better.’ She sounded completely unaware of any sardonic overtones in his remarks. ‘Although there’s really no problem. I’ve heard all about Mrs. Murphy’s accident, but it’s useless to pretend that this girl could possibly be a substitute for her. Your duty is quite clear. She must go immediately. However, it is essential I have a few words with you in private, Owen,’ she announced pointedly when they had reached the sitting-room and Kate began to fill the glasses.

  ‘No, not in private, Aunt,’ Owen said quietly. ‘Anything you have to say can be said in front of Kate.’

  His aunt shrugged. ‘Very well, but I assure you they won’t be complimentary, for I’m not going to beat about the bush, Owen. You’ve disgraced the family and dragged your name in the mud. It may be all very well and good for you to live as you please, but the Fitzpatricks have always been looked up to. Why, the whole village of Ballyfeeny lived on what they earned in the Fitzpatrick mills.’

  ‘Yes, at one time,’ Owen agreed, and Kate realised that he was about to enlarge on this, but had changed his mind.

  ‘Anyway, it’s an undoubted fact that the villagers look up to us and expect us to give an example.’

  ‘Nicky’s example—or the twins’, for that matter?’ her nephew inquired dryly.

  Mrs. Fitzpatrick compressed her lips. ‘They have, unfortunately, inherited a certain amount of wildness from their father’s side, but, as far as Nicky’s escapade was concerned, it was merely high spirits, though of course I don’t condone his conduct for a moment,’ she added piously. ‘However, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t settle this situation once and for all by getting rid of the girl and putting an end to gossip.’

  As she was studiously ignoring Kate and speaking of her as if she had suddenly become invisible, Kate wondered indignantly whether she should stalk from the room or offer more sherry. Deciding on the latter course as perhaps more dignified, she found that her polite inquiry was met by dead silence and an averted profile.

  Mrs. Fitzpatrick got to her feet and prepared to depart. ‘I can see that I’m wasting my time,’ she said tightly, ‘although I can assure you that, as your aunt, and having your best interests at heart, my visit was well intended.’

  ‘I’m sure it was,’ Owen replied a little wearily, ‘and if it gives you any comfort I’ve sent for Aunt Florrie. She’ll act as a sort of chaperon, I hope.’

  Mrs. Fitzpatrick laughed shortly. ‘Florrie act as a chaperon? Why, a woman like Florrie Lawlor is much too self-willed and unconventional to be of the slightest use in hushing up gossip. The woman is an utter freak and a laughing-stock, and if your uncle had had a scrap of sense he would never have married her.’

  ‘All the same, I think she made him happy in spite of her eccentricities,’ Owen said thoughtfully.

  Kate glanced at him in surprise. It was the first time she had heard him speak of marriage in terms at all complimentary.

  Even Mrs. Fitzpatrick, taken up as she was with her grievances, appeared to be faintly astonished. ‘Well, I must say I’d never have given Florrie credit for bringing any man happiness. However, she’s right about one thing: it’s time you were married and settled down—with a girl from a suitable family, of course,’ she added hastily, and seemed gratified that Owen made no protest. Although Kate, who had learned to sense his moods, guessed that he was no longer listening.

  When his aunt had gone Owen wandered back into the sitting-room where Kate was clearing away the glasses. ‘Poor Aunt Alice! I was just able to prevent myself telling her a few home truths. She lives in the old days when her husband’s family owned the Ballyfeeny Mills and tries to impress people with her past glories—although, as far as she’s concerned, they’re very much present.’

  He watched abstractedly as Kate collected the glasses and placed them on a tray and plumped cushions. She kept her face averted, but when at last he caught a glimpse of her profile, her snub good-humoured features looked clouded and unhappy, and to his annoyance he discovered that the spectacle for some strange reason, disturbed him. ‘And now what’s wrong? Don’t you think that a visit from Aunt Alice is enough for a man to endure without you flinging the vapours as well?’

  ‘I’m not flinging the vapours,’ Kate sniffed dismally, and ran her finger around the rim of a glass, ‘but how would you like it
if someone talked about you as if you weren’t present?’

  ‘If you mean my Aunt Alice—as I think you do—I’d be extremely grateful. I get too much of her attention as it is. Anyway, you must have realised that if you stayed on here my relations would betray a certain amount of interest, if not opposition.’

  ‘If they’re all going to betray that type of interest I think perhaps it would be better if I left,’ Kate said, with a show of spirit that she was far from feeling.

  ‘Oh no, you don’t,’ he retorted, to her relief. ‘I need you now. You simply can’t decide to clear off, just because you’ve taken a dislike to my foolish aunt.’

  Kate’s eyes brightened. ‘Then you really want me to stay?’ She glanced up at him eagerly. She was close to him and he was aware that only the tray of glasses separated them. She looked very young and her round cheeks had turned pink with pleasure.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ he said shortly. ‘In spite of the soda-bread calamity, your cooking is improving. Besides, you get on with the men.’ He was deliberately cool and detached in his manner and instantly he saw the light fade from her face as though a candle had been extinguished.

  She turned and was on the point of slipping past him on her way to the kitchen when he said brusquely, ‘Never mind the glasses! Why don’t you run upstairs and fetch your coat and come with me to Limerick? I’m taking the trailer to fetch some seed oats.’

  ‘But what about the men?’ she asked doubtfully.

  ‘For once they can manage by themselves. Dan’s wife has him well trained and he’ll forage about the pantry and fix a meal up for the others. It won’t be the first time they had to make do.’

  Her eyes sparkling delightedly at the prospect of an outing. She turned and sped lightly upstairs.

  He stood in the doorway watching her, frowning a little as he remembered his aunt’s savage treatment of the girl, yet her words had been uncomfortably near the truth. With or without Aunt Florrie’s presence at Laragh, the girl was in an invidious position. He knew only too well from experience how gossip could snowball and assume immense dimensions in a small closely-knit community. Sooner or later Kate would be subjected to the sly innuendoes, the crude jokes that were bandied about when the conventions were contravened. It was obvious, however, that this aspect of her situation had not occurred to her and he scowled as he turned and went to fetch the car.

  During the drive to Limerick she was surprisingly silent, but not, he realised, because of anything his aunt might have said. In fact he got the impression that far from recalling the wounding words, she had already wiped from her memory the episode. It was rather that each new scene filled her with wonder and delight too deep for words, and as they drove into the outskirts of Limerick she sat forward, eagerly anticipating the pleasures ahead.

  ‘Have a look around the shops,’ he said, ‘while I go about my business. And in about half an hour we can meet at that restaurant across the road.’

  She nodded. The shops appeared inviting and she was looking forward to beginning her tour when he added a little gruffly, ‘By the way, if you need some extra cash, just let me know. You may see something you’d like to buy.’

  She turned around and gazed at him directly with eyes wide with surprise. ‘Oh, but I have some money. Of course Margot was able to give me only a small salary, but I always saved it up. There was nothing much to spend it on, for I’m not dreadfully keen on clothes, you see. But it was very nice of you to think of it,’ she added, a note of wonder in her voice.

  She had not expected this kindness from her rather gruff employer.

  Her eyes, he decided, had the smoky grey colour of a pigeon’s wing. Then, swinging himself abruptly from behind the wheel, he called, ‘Don’t get lost. My plans don’t include searching the streets for you.’

  ‘Oh no, Mr. Lawlor,’ she assured him earnestly, ‘for I’d have no place to go. After all, Laragh’s my home—I mean,’ she added hastily, ‘for the time being,’ and watched him a little wistfully as he strode away from her.

  The half-hour passed all too quickly and Kate found she had barely time to reach the restaurant within the specified time. However, when she did arrive there was no sign of Owen and taking a table behind a pillar she kept her eyes glued on the door anxiously. Suppose she should be waiting in vain and Owen’s broad figure should never appear in the doorway! After all, she knew so little of the man! Perhaps he had listened more carefully to his aunt’s strictures than she had imagined. Could the whole outing be a means of jettisoning someone who had become an embarrassment? She clutched her hands together under the tablecloth, thankful that the other diners were too wrapped up in their own affairs to notice her agitation.

  In spite of her distress she became aware of the sudden muting of conversation as a young man and woman appeared in the doorway: the boy was exceptionally tall and slim, with olive dark skin and brown, slightly slanted, eyes that held a reckless glint; the girl had sleek dark hair that fell on either side of her face like a silky curtain, and with a start Kate realised that the small classically regular features were familiar. They were heading for a vacant table beside her and she felt a sense of panic as she heard a woman at a nearby table laugh and say to the man across from her, ‘Look who’s here! Nicky and that gorgeous au pair girl at the Fitzpatricks’!’

  Yes, it was definitely Doretta Denzzani, Kate realized, as they took their places. She tried to turn her chair sideways in the hope of avoiding Doretta’s bright encompassing gaze, but she was too late. The girl, after one surprised glance in her direction, turned and whispered something to her companion and, to Kate’s horror, she realised that she had become the target of the man’s slanted fawn-like eyes and that slow comprehension was beginning to dawn in them so that they glittered with a mischievousness that was frightening and unrestrained.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  TO add to her discomfiture she felt conspicuous sitting alone at the table and noticed that several of the waitresses glanced at her curiously as they hurried past with laden trays. Then with a gush of relief she at last saw Owen’s tall figure appear in the doorway. He paused for a moment and his eyes traversed the room with the slow careless glance that she had already noticed missed very little.

  Catching sight of her anxious face, he strode towards her table, feeling a little irritable: an explanation no doubt would be expected for his tardiness. So already she was restricting his freedom, destroying his casual bachelor life, where there was no one but himself to answer to, no importunate female clutching possessively at his coat tails!

  As he took a seat across from her she leaned forward and hissed conspiratorially, ‘Do you know who’s at the table behind you?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ he answered coolly. ‘My cousin Nicky and the Fitzpatrick au pair girl, Doretta.’ He appeared faintly surprised at her air of suppressed excitement. ‘But what’s all the melodrama about? Nicky often comes here with the current girl-friend.’

  She drew herself upright, shocked at his casual reaction. ‘But he’s the man who sent me those horrible lying letters and brought me all this way for nothing, yet you sit there—’ She drew in her breath and tried to restrain herself as a waitress approached. When the girl had taken her order and departed she continued in a rush, ‘You’re so casual about it!’

  ‘What do you expect me to do?’ he retorted. ‘Challenge him to a duel? After all, you’ve no one but yourself to blame for having landed in such a mess. Anyway, why this change of face? I gathered you thought the letters pretty wonderful; full of sentiment and feeling, and all the qualities that I so obviously don’t possess in your estimation!’

  ‘But don’t you see, that’s what makes it so horrible! He obviously knew exactly the sort of thing a girl would like to hear and deliberately dragged me here on false pretences: it was cruel and heartless.’

  ‘If you feel so strongly about his iniquities,’ Owen told her coolly, ‘now’s your chance for a confrontation. Why don’t you go over and tell him exactly wh
at you think of his behaviour?’

  ‘No need for that!’ a voice drawled behind them. ‘Here’s the horrid nasty Nicky in person. To be ticked off by such a pretty little bundle of love would be a real pleasure.’ Dismayed, Kate glanced up to find herself the absorbed focus of the two dark dancing eyes of the man who stood at her side. ‘May Doretta and I join you, cousin? It seems Doretta has already met the bride-to-be and would like to renew the acquaintance. She’s intrigued by the set-up and would like to get full details. You know how romantic those hot-blooded Italians can be!’

  For a moment silence lay between Nicky Fitzpatrick and his cousin, and Kate could feel the cold anger that seemed to emanate from Owen Lawlor.

  Before, however, he had a chance of replying, Doretta, who had been following the encounter between the two men with interest, evidently taking it for granted that Nicky’s request would be granted, rose from their table and crossed towards them. She had a studiedly gliding and sinuous walk. She looked extraordinarily beautiful in the subdued lighting, her perfect small teeth showing in a slow faint smile that Kate immediately recognised was infinitely more seductive than her own wide friendly grin, and she realised, as Doretta slid on to one of the small gilt chairs, that she herself would play a very small part in whatever was to follow.

  Doretta made no effort to hide her amusement. ‘But how ridiculous!’ she said in her prettily stilted English. ‘We meet on the train and I think you are so—how shall I put it—so proper, so respectable, so correct, and all the time—’ She paused, flinging out her hands eloquently.

  Kate flushed furiously. ‘Why don’t you say it? You mean, don’t you, I am neither proper nor respectable?’

  Doretta shrugged. ‘It is you who have said it, not I. In Italy our customs are so different. No girl of good family would dream of picking her husband from a newspaper advertisement. However, as I say, here things are different.’