She moved further into the sitting room, got no further than undoing the top two buttons of her jacket, when her phone rang. Straightaway she recognised Ben Maxwell's voice, deep and masculine, coming across to her over the wires.
`Tiffany?'
`Yes.' She wondered what he wanted. She had enough on her plate without hearing any of his acid.
Ten Maxwell.' She already knew that—he didn't sound in a very good humour. 'I want to see you—I'll come round.'
Typical Ben Maxwell, Tiffany thought as she banged the receiver back on its rest. No 'Please may I?' No 'Is it convenient?' Just, 'I want to see you—I'll come round'.
Forgoing the luxury of the bath she had been looking forward to, Tiffany washed and changed into a denim shirt and jeans, and just had time to add a touch of lipstick, then Ben Maxwell was there.
He hadn't wasted any time, she thought as she let him into her sitting room; he looked ill-humoured as he had sounded on the phone, was as big as she remembered him, and seemed to fill her tiny flat as he followed her in. Then cutting short her look of enquiry as to why he wanted to see her, he seemed to notice that if she had thought he wasn't in the best of humours—he could see she was looking decidedly fed up herself.
`What's wrong?'
is short enquiry made her realise her face must be very expressive if he had read there the depression she was feeling. 'What's right?' she answered belligerently, and saw from the way his eyes narrowed that he didn't take very kindly to her tone. She felt his steady gaze on her and knew if she didn't do something to save the situation they would both be firing broadsides at each other uncaring where they landed. 'Everything's wrong,' she confessed, hating herself for backing down under the growing anger she saw creeping into his eyes. If he threw a sarcastic 'We all have our problems' regardless of who he was and the fact that he could make life difficult for her the next time she flew with him, Tiffany knew her own temper would get out
of control and she would order him from her flat—whether he went or not was another matter.
When he spoke his tone was quite mild, which effectively sent her rising temper down a few degrees. 'Care to tell me what's troubling you?'
Ben Maxwell was the last person Tiffany would have thought of as her confidant, but since he already knew so much about her, she sat down and he followed suit, and she found herself telling him, `Well, for one thing this house is being sold, so I have to find somewhere else to live—it's next to impossible to find anywhere to rent, and my rest days are spent traipsing around looking for another flat ...'
`Hopeless, is it?' he enquired, his eyes looking thoughtful.
`You've said it,' Tiffany acknowledged. 'It's hopeless.'
`You intimated there's more than one thing bothering you,' he said shrewdly. 'What else is getting you down?'
`Everything comes at once, doesn't it?' Tiffany shrugged, trying to lighten the atmosphere and not succeeding very well. She felt low, and trying not to let him see how really down she was didn't help to lift her any. Then with a feeling, unfairly, she realised later, that half her problems were his fault anyway, she fully unburdened herself.
`When I've finished trudging the rounds of estate agents and possible leads, I find I have no social life.'
`No social life?' he repeated disbelievingly. 'From what I've seen you're popular with the opposite sex.'
She hadn't thought he'd even noticed. 'I was before I became en-engaged,' she admitted, seeing no point in false modesty, but faltering over the word engaged. 'But now none of our mutual acquaintances invite me out because they think I'm engaged to you—and ... and I don't feel I
can go out with any of my non-airline male friends because that doesn't seem fair to you either.'
She caught him giving her a sharp look when she glanced across at him. 'You're a very honest fiancee, I must say, Tiffany. Not many girls would see our engagement that way.'
`Well, you wouldn't like it, would you?' she asked, hoping he would say he couldn't care less what she did in her off time and so give her carte blanche to do what she wanted. Patti Marshall was having another of her parties tonight, it might cheer her up to go there ...
`No, I wouldn't like it,' he agreed, and Tiffany went back to being fed up again. 'Anything else troubling you?' he enquired.
Well, since you want to know the lot,' Tiffany began, her aggression rising to realise she might as well be living on a deserted isle for all the fun she was getting out of life at the moment, 'sometime over the next few days I've got to ring Aunt Margery and let her know I've landed safely—she'll worry if I don't—and I know when I do she'll do nothing but sing your praises.' Her aggression disappeared, and her voice began to get all wobbly. 'I don't think I can take the question again of when you and I are going to get married,' she told him, ending, 'and ... and I'm f-fed up !'
Tiffany hated anyone to see her cry and struggled hard against the tears that threatened. Ben Maxwell hadn't moved and she was afraid to look at him, realising he must think her a proper little misery. Ousting her self-pity, she recalled he had come to her flat ten minutes ago not with the purpose of sitting listening to her tale of woe—why he had come she didn't know, but whatever his reason for calling, it couldn't make her feel any worse than she was
right now. Feeling more in control of herself, she lifted her head and summoned up a small self-conscious smile.
`Sorry to be such a pain in the neck—I didn't mean to go on like that.'
He didn't smile back, and her own smile faded. She wished she'd never apologised in the first place. Her full control returned rapidly at the hard look on his face. She must have been an idiot to let go in front of him like that, he didn't care a button about how she was feeling— but then why should he?
`So much for my problems,' she finished, adopting a cool air. 'You didn't come here to listen to me— What did you come for, Mr Maxwell?'
By calling him Mr Maxwell she was able, she thought, to keep everything cool and businesslike between them. But when his hand dipped into his jacket pocket and without taking his narrowed eyes off her face, he withdrew the folded newspaper she had noticed jutting out when he had sat down, Tiffany had an uncanny premonition that disaster was about to strike. His face looked grim as he opened out the paper and without a word handed it over to her.
`What ?' Tiffany questioned, her eyes going to the top
of the paper to see which one it was. Middledeane and Marchberrow Gazette, she saw. 'But this is Aunt Margery's local newspaper,' she said, looking at him for enlightenment. 'Why ...'
`Look at the announcement column,' he told her, then completely shattered her cool air. 'Under Engagements.'
Oh no, Tiffany thought, even before she found the page, saw there was only one engagement and read quickly, ... pleased to announce the engagement of Tiffany Margery Nicholls to Benedict Rowley-Maxwell, son of ...' Tiffany groaned out loud. And she had thought nothing
else could happen—this crowned the lot! But where did Aunt Margery get her information, she wondered with one part of her mind as she read on ' ... son of Mr and the late Mrs Harvey Rowley-Maxwell'. Afraid to look at him, Tiffany let the paper fall in her lap. Oh God, Aunt Margery —would this nightmare never end?
`I'm sorry, Ben—so sorry,' she said huskily. Then her lips firmed as she realised what she must do. He already thought she was a coward where her aunt was concerned, but this was too much. He had been more than accommodating in letting her use him the way she had, but he must by now be ready to explode—he hadn't asked to become involved. Tiffany's mind was made up. Aunt Margery was going to be upset, but the whole farce had to be stopped here and now. There was no knowing what Aunt Margery would do next in her innocence.
`I'll see a retraction goes in straight away,' she said firmly. `I'll go down to Middledeane today and explain to my aunt exactly what I did.'
She heard Ben move, felt the shadow of him standing in front of her. 'I have a solution, Tiffany, and it's not a retraction.' Her head came
up then, but where she had expected him to look at her as if ready to tear her apart, although unsmiling, she saw nothing in his face to make her afraid of what he would do. Then he came and sat beside her on the small two-seater settee and unconsciously Tiffany moved up to make room for him.
`Not a retraction?' she repeated, not knowing quite where she was any more. 'But ..
`Just hear me out,' his voice stopped her when she would have argued that the only solution she could think of now was to be painfully honest with her aunt. 'I've said I have a solution,' Ben went on. 'But before I tell you what it is, and at the risk of making you even more upset, I think you
should know exactly what your aunt had triggered off by putting this announcement in the paper.' Tiffany wanted to groan out loud again, but managed to stifle it—she had a feeling there was far worse to come. 'Have you heard of a Colonel Wainwright?' he asked.
She had, but didn't know what he had got to do with anything. The one I know lives in Marchberrow—he's a J.P., I think.'
`That's the one,' Ben confirmed. 'Well, it just so happens that Colonel Wainwright is a great friend of my father's— that being so, when Colonel Wainwright saw I'd got myself engaged,' he tapped the paper resting on the arm of the settee, 'he sent a copy of this paper to my father.'
All Tiffany's senses were screaming, oh no, was there no end to it? Ben carried on, ignoring the sudden whiteness of her face.
`Needless to say, my father wrote to me—a not very polite letter, I might add—asking if there was any particular reason why he should be the last to know.' Tiffany could see from where Ben got his sarcastic tongue. 'I should mention,' he continued, a flat note entering his voice, 'that my father has been in hospital in Switzerland for the past few months—not to underline it too heavily, he's more than a little sensitive at being cut off from the rest of the world.'
Tiffany felt she was going mad. All this had grown from that first senseless, impulsive lie—it was all down to her. She was ready to do anything, anything at all to show Ben how contrite she was.
`What do you want me to do?' she asked him, half turning on the settee, her eyes showing him she would stop at nothing to redress what she had done, and confirmed it by saying, 'I'll do anything—anything you ask.' There
was no doubting her sincerity. But Ben Maxwell asked just the same :
`Are you sure about that?'
`Positive—just name it.'
She saw a glint come into his eyes, then his expression stern, he said, 'Come and live with me, Tiffany.'
Whatever she had expected, that was the last thing that had gone through her mind, and her face that had been white went scarlet, only to pale to ashen as she whispered, disbelieving her hearing, 'As ... as though we were m-married, do you mean?' before her senses set up an outraged clamouring, so that she could only just make out what else he was saying.
`By God, Tiffany, you're trusting,' he gritted harshly. `I'd already decided the best way out of this mess was for us to be married.' She was receiving shock after shock, but Ben was so angry with her he didn't wait for his words to register, but went straight on. 'Don't you realise the serious trouble you could get yourself into telling a man you barely know that you'll do anything he asks? Thank your lucky stars, Tiffany Nicholls, that I have more regard for your innocence than to take you to live with me without the benefit of a wedding ring.' Tiffany's colour was high as he thundered to a stop.
And as what he was saying made itself comprehended on her scattered senses, she was on her feet saying, 'Married?' She felt completely floored. 'Are you saying you want us to be married?'
`You sound more shocked now than when you thought I was suggesting you live with me without the Church's blessing.' His voice was cool again now, and he stretched out a hand to pull her to sit beside him on the settee again.
`I wasn't —I ... I have no intention of living with you,
married or not,' she managed after a hesitant start. `You said you would do anything,' he reminded her. `Yes, but—marriage ! It's ridiculous !'
She dared a look and saw he didn't share her opinion that it was ridiculous. She looked away, shaken to the very core. When she married it would be for love—she didn't think she even liked Ben Maxwell very much—and he was calmly sitting there, calmly waiting for her to agree—no, not even agree—acquiesce to his decision to marry her.
`I can't marry you,' she said bluntly. `It's unthinkable. If this is your solution to the mess I've got us into, then I'm afraid I don't think much of it. All I have to do is to tell Aunt Margery what I've done,' her spirits quailed at the thought, but she went bravely on. `M-my aunt will put a retraction in the paper and that will be the end of it.'
`Aren't you rather forgetting my part in all this?' His voice was icy, and Tiffany felt a shiver of apprehension run along her spine.
`I'm sorry, Ben—I truly am. If—If you'll let me have your father's address I'll write to him and explain everything to him.'
`No !' It was said sharply, and echoed round her flat, and he meant it. A tense silence followed and Tiffany's mouth set in a mutinous line until Ben spoke again, but this time the edge had gone from his voice and he looked ready to discuss the problem more amicably. 'I know you don't like me, Tiffany,' he said, and when her eyes swivelled to look at him conceding she had done very little to hide her feelings about him, he said, 'Oh yes—I've seen the dislike in your eyes every now and then—but whether we like each other or not doesn't come into it.' He was clearly telling her he didn't like her either, which made his suggestion of marriage even more preposterous. `As I see it, being married to me would solve a lot of your problems.'
Tiffany still thought their getting married to each other too much of a drastic step to take. Of course it would take the pressure of Aunt Margery off her, and since Ben had said, 'Come and live with me' the problem of finding somewhere else to live would be solved. In telling him about her impending homelessness she had played straight into his hands, she could see that now—but one didn't get married solely for somewhere to live, even if one did have a streak of cowardice when it came to hurting a person as sweet as Aunt Margery.
`No, Ben,' she refused again, finding his name now rolled easily off her tongue. 'I can't even consider it.'
`Why not?'
He wasn't going to be easily put off, it seemed. 'Well, for one thing it's too one-sided—I mean— Well, I know married to you I wouldn't have Aunt Margery pressurising me to get married, and ... and you mentioned I'd be living with you so I wouldn't have the problem of finding somewhere to live—but what would you get out of it?' She stopped abruptly, a wave of furious colour washing her face. 'Oh,' she said, and felt herself break out in a cold sweat as Ben Maxwell looked at her steadily obviously finding no difficulty in following her line of thinking.
`It wasn't in my mind to marry you for the other benefits that go with being man and wife,' he told her coolly, letting her know without a doubt that Nick Cowley might be on fire to get her into bed with him, but as far as Ben Maxwell was concerned, Tiffany Nicholls left him cold in the sex department. Then in case it wasn't blindingly clear to her, he continued to leave her in no doubt whatsoever. 'You don't need to tell me you're attractive, a man would have to be blind not to see it—but quite honestly, Tiffany, making love to you doesn't come into my scheme of things.'
Her colour came again at his brutal honesty. He even gave her a look which she read as meaning she'd be the lucky one, not him, if she ever found herself on the receiving end of his favours.
`So,' she said, her chin coming up as she forced herself to face him, 'physically I leave you cold—all right, I accept that—but I still couldn't marry you.'
`Because it's too one-sided and you can't see what I would get out of it,' said Ben, and Tiffany's look confirmed. Then after a long pause, he breathed in deeply and said as though against his will, 'Very well, Tiffany—I can see you won't agree to marry me unless I level with you, so I'll confess it would suit me very well to be married right now
.'
`You—er ...' Her surprise was holding her tonguetied. Speechlessly she looked at him and to her further surprise saw from his look that Ben Maxwell would rather tell her anything than the reason why it would suit him to be married.
`As I've told you,' he began slowly, 'my father is in hospital in Switzerland. About a year ago he married an ex-girl-friend of mine, and—well, to cut the story short,' he said gruffly, giving Tiffany the distinct impression that if she didn't know better she would have thought the great Ben Maxwell was embarrassed, 'the old goat seems to think we still have a shine for each other. It's nonsense, of course,' he went on, 'but the more Frances and I try to tell him there's nothing between us, the more convinced he becomes that there is. He should be home by now fully recovered, but worrying over a non-existent problem is holding back his progress.' He ended what he was telling her on a relieved kind of note, as if glad it was all said and out of the way. 'Now do you see why I need a wife? It wouldn't be all one-sided, Tiffany.'
Tiffany was dumbfounded, all her sympathy with his father in Switzerland—he must be pretty near demented so far away from his wife, away from the woman he loved, tormented by suspicion and jealousy.
`Oh, Ben—I'm so sorry about your father.'
Her momentary weakening was enough to give him the opening he had been waiting for. 'Look at it logically,' he told her. 'Our marriage needn't be a permanent one. Once my father is well again and your aunt is off her hobbyhorse, we can have the marriage annulled.'
`Annulled?' Tiffany queried. He was going too fast for her to catch up with him.
`Annulment applies where a marriage has not been consummated,' he told her, and Tiffany flushed scarlet again. Then Ben was back to urging her to be logical, making it all sound so sane and sensible, so much so that she began to feel she was not thinking straight in even considering turning his proposition down. It did sound logical the way he put it, she had to admit, and yet ... 'You need somewhere to live,' he was saying. 'I have a spare bedroom in my flat doing nothing—I wouldn't object if you wanted to keep on with your job.'
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