Turbulent Covenant

by Jessica Steele

  Then he was leaving his position by the door, coming to place his hands lightly on her shoulders, and she realised she hadn't made a fool of herself after all, for he was saying, 'Thank you for explaining all this to me, Tiffany. I confess, seeing the terror in your eyes this morning threw me. I thought we'd got on quite well last night, thought I had your trust. Your cringing away from me this morning

  as though I was some lustful animal with rape in mind sickened me.' Tiffany looked up at him then, as it dawned on her that Ben had a sensitivity she hadn't associated with him. 'Since we're being so honest with each other,' he said, giving her a smile that played havoc with her, 'I'll confess it was touch and go whether I came back and gave you something to be terrified about.

  Tiffany's face burned furiously as the import of what he had just said hit her. 'You wouldn't have?'

  `Wouldn't I?' She couldn't doubt it. 'Who would have stopped me?'

  She knew her strength would have been puny against his, and paled at the thought of what could nearly have happened. She loved this man she had married, wanted with all her heart to be a wife to him, but to be taken in anger, she felt then, would have finished their short marriage before it got started.

  `Don't worry about it,' he said quietly, his hands leaving her shoulders as he turned to go. 'It didn't happen, did it?'

  Tiffany was glad she'd had the courage to tell him what she had, for after that the tension eased between them. Ben was certainly his most amiable as he came into her room the next morning and escorted her down to breakfast. They left Zurich without seeing Holly Barrington again, and arriving in Davos they went by taxi to their hotel, where Tiffany found he had booked a suite of rooms for their stay, comprising of two bedrooms, a sitting room and a bathroom. He told her to pick which bedroom she wanted and they both went to unpack. Her unpacking didn't take long, but she took the chance to change from her travel clothes into a green trouser suit before she joined Ben in the sitting room. She saw his eyes flick over her, hoped he thought she was looking as good as her mirrored

  reflection had told her she was, but knew better than to expect him to say so.

  `I thought we'd visit my father this afternoon,' he told her. 'I spoke with him on the phone yesterday and he's looking forward to meeting you.'

  Not sure what to expect, Tiffany set out with Ben later that afternoon and found it an exhilarating fifteen-minute walk to the hospital. But when they got there, she discovered it was nothing at all like a hospital. It was a big house set in a mountainside full of pine trees, and on stepping inside, instead of the clinical atmosphere she had anticipated with probably a nurse or two scurrying about, she saw it was homely and the girl who approached them and directed them to a lounge was not a nurse at all but a maid. She spoke a kind of Swiss German which Ben understood more easily than Tiffany, and told them Mr Maxwell would join them shortly.

  `Isn't your father in bed?' Tiffany asked Ben when the maid had gone, trying not to let the nervousness she was feeling at this meeting show.

  `He was at first,' Ben told her, and if he too was feeling nervous, for if Harvey Maxwell didn't believe his son was in love with 'the girl he had married two days ago, then it would all have been in vain, he hid it well. 'He has not been a bed patient for some time now, though he still has periods of enforced bed rest—but the air here is so pure, just the simple act of breathing is clearing his trouble.' He broke off, obviously listening.

  Tiffany heard it too, the sound of movement outside in the hall, and her eyes flew to Ben as she realised that when the door opened, they would be face to face with his father.

  Ben's arm reached out for her, and without a second's thought she went to him, felt his arm close her to him,

  and felt comfort from that contact. When Harvey Maxwell opened the door, it was to see his son and new daughter-in-law standing together, his son holding his bride close to him. There was a silence that seemed to stretch endlessly as Harvey Maxwell looked from one to the other, though in reality Tiffany realised it only lasted about two seconds, then Ben was taking her with him over to his father, his arm dropping away from her as the two men greeted each other, Ben saying, 'Hello, Dad,' and she could have sworn his voice had thickened slightly as, his greeting over, he turned to include her and said, 'I want you to meet Tiffany.'

  Tiffany wanted to speak, but couldn't find her voice. Wanted to stretch her hand out and say, 'Believe me, you have nothing to worry about. Ben doesn't love Frances in the way you think he does', but she couldn't say anything, do anything except just look at the man who was tall like his son, severe-looking like him, and so very like Ben apart from his more lined face and white hair in contrast to Ben's almost black hair. In turn, she was aware that Harvey Maxwell was studying her, realised he didn't want her to say anything. And then, their eyes fixed on each other, Tiffany saw the most beautiful smile she had ever seen on a man light up Harvey Maxwell's face.

  `So you're the one who finally anchored him down, eh?' he said.

  And then Tiffany's voice escaped from its bonds of fear. `It took some doing,' she acknowledged, 'but yes—I managed it,' and because she knew he had accepted what Ben wanted him to believe, a beaming smile of her own broke from her, and she felt herself being hauled into a hug that was purely and simply a mixture of heartfelt relief and happiness on the part of Harvey Maxwell.

  They didn't stay longer than an hour. Ben, more attuned than Tiffany for signs of tiredness in his father, said they

  would leave him so he could rest and would call and see him the next day.

  Sensing that Ben was occupied with his own thoughts, Tiffany was silent as they walked back, and the hotel was within sight before Ben came out of his reverie.

  `So you managed to anchor me down, did you?'

  Tiffany looked back at him quickly, wondering if her agreeing with his father had offended him for all she couldn't see that she could have done anything else. And then she saw that Ben was grinning down at her, a grin that was so infectious she could do no other than grin straight back.

  `The bigger they are the harder they fall,' she said brightly, and although that meant nothing, for they both knew there was not the remotest chance he would fall for her, she was happy, though she had to look away from him in case his grin changed to a frown.

  Once the silence between them had been broken, Tiffany found a flood of questions she wanted to ask him. 'How do you think your father is looking?'

  `About the same as last time I saw him, I think,' he told her, and sent her spirits sky high adding, 'Seeing you has lifted him.'

  `Do you think so?'

  `Sure of it,' he confirmed. 'You couldn't see his face when he was hugging you At a guess I'd say you're the best medicine he's had in a long time.'

  Her spirits soared even higher. She knew it hadn't been her personally that had been the tonic Harvey Maxwell needed, but her as Ben's wife. It made her feel her marriage, as Ben had said, wasn't all one-sided, if seeing her had lifted his father.

  As she lay in bed that night, Tiffany reflected that it had been a good day. Not once had that harsh look she

  hated shadowed Ben's face. And after an early dinner they had spent over an hour or so walking round Davos, not too large a place, but a picturesque spot. Then back at their hotel after saying she didn't want a drink and that she thought she would turn in, tired but relaxed, she had left him to his nightcap.

  She had heard him moving about in his room. He must have seen her light on, she reasoned, for quietly he had opened her door, seen her ensconced beneath the covers and awake, and while her heart had hurried up its beat he had said, 'Thought you might have dropped off and forgotten to put your light out.' As an afterthought he'd asked, 'Any problems?' She had shaken her head, knowing her voice would come out all husky if she tried to speak, and he had left her with a quiet, 'Goodnight.'

  She lay sleepless for some time after that, while her heart settled down to its normal beat, basking in the warm glow, the protected feeling his 'Go
odnight' had given her. Her warm glow disappeared as the startling thought came to her that she would hate it if his feelings for her were fatherly. What feelings? Ben felt nothing for her, fatherly or otherwise.

  It was three o'clock before she finally dropped off to sleep, consequently she was in no mood for Ben coming into her room and disturbing her sleep.

  `Come on, show a leg,' he wakened her. 'I want to take you up Schatzalp this morning.'

  Need he be so energetic? Just five more minutes, that was all she wanted. 'Go away,' she said, burying her head from the rude sunlight that streamed through the opened curtains.

  Suddenly she was cold. Cold and indignant, as he did no more than fling the bed covers away from her semi-sleeping form. Instantly Tiffany came wide awake, scarlet

  colour adding to the pink cheeks of sleep as she became aware that he was standing looking down at where her nightdress, pretty and feminine as it might be, had ridden up during the night and was now revealing almost the full length of her naked shapely thigh. The covers were replaced before she could make a grab at them, but that didn't make her feel any better.

  `Hell, Tiffany, I'm sorry,' he was the first to recover as she turned her head away speechless. 'Don't be upset, sweetheart.' His voice, concerned and kind did nothing to mollify her. Then, exasperated, his voice came again. 'Hell's bells, how was I to know—I'd put you down as being strictly the pyjamas type.'

  Her, 'Thank you very much,' was pure acid, and she didn't take kindly to the laugh he did nothing to smother either.

  `I am your husband after all,' he said easily. 'If I can't look at—er—your delights, who can?' Tiffany was not to be plagued out of her ill humour, and heard Ben give a resigned sigh before he said, 'Well, are you going to get yourself up—or do you want, me to do it for you?'

  Her, 'No, I'm not,' was changed rapidly to a, 'Yes, I will.' Then she opened her stubbornly tightly closed eyes, and said clearly and loudly, Will you get out!' It didn't help matters to hear his laugh as he obeyed her instructions, for all she couldn't help thinking it a lovely sound.

  Once bathed and dressed she felt half ashamed of her bad temper—It still rankled with her that he thought her `strictly the pyjamas type'; she had Aunt Margery to thank that she wasn't any longer. But not being one to bear a grudge, despite the fact she had exchanged barely a civil word with him as they sat down to breakfast, before she had started on her second cup of coffee Tiffany knew she couldn't keep up her unfriendly attitude for much longer.

  And so after suffering one of Ben's long intent looks, she knew she would have to do something about it.

  `I'm sorry I was such a grouch this morning,' she said quietly while she had the courage, adding lamely, 'I didn't sleep very well last night.'

  `Any special reason for that?' She should have known he was too quick for her.

  `Strange bed, I expect.' Not much of a reason, she knew, particularly as in their line of work they spent very little time in their own beds in their own homes, but Ben didn't press her further, and anyway her aim had been achieved, the ice that had been forming between them was broken.

  Climbing up the twisting pathway of Schatzalp, for Ben scorned the use of the cable car, Tiffany felt completely at one with him, particularly since after she stumbled at one point he did no more than tuck her hand into the crook of his arm saying, 'Here, hang on to me.' Tiffany left her hand there until they reached a part on the mountain that housed a restaurant.

  They stood together surveying the valley below. She could clearly see a church spire nestling between a cluster of building. She thought she would never forget the picture of the snow-topped mountain opposite, the giant fir trees taking on a silhouette of silver as the sunlight tiptoed through their branches. She was loath to move, for Ben seemed as content as she; she thought he shared the same magic of this moment and she wanted to hold on to it for as long as she could. She felt him take her hand as a gossamer thread of enchantment stole around her, but was afraid to look at him in case he wasn't feeling the magic too. Then his grip on her hand tightened and she just had to look at him. Then as a smile of pure happiness started to tug for release because his own expression was gentle,

  the gossamer thread was snapped as a voice she had heard before hailed them.

  `Ben—I knew you'd be here !'

  Tiffany, who had never hated anyone in her life, felt at that moment, as Ben let go her hand, she could cheerfully have pitched Holly Barrington down the mountainside.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE remainder of their holiday—the word honeymoon was a misnomer—was spent with Holly making up an uneven trio wherever they went. Not that Tiffany ever heard Ben actually ask her to join them, but somehow she was always there. In the end Tiffany tried to accept her, and the more she got to know her, she was surprised to find given different circumstances, she could well have liked her. She received an impression that somehow or other Holly's high spirits were covering up some hurt, and being softhearted, as their holiday drew to a close it was she who would say to Ben, 'Shall I ask Holly to join us?' And if he thought she was pleased to have Holly with them, so much the better, for after that moment before Holly had joined them on Schatzalp when she felt sure she had been ready to tell Ben she loved him, Tiffany was now on guard that such a moment should never come again. They had visited his father for the last time yesterday and were catching an early train for Zurich, then taking off for London in the late afternoon.

  It was with mixed feelings that Tiffany left their hotel suite. Ben had reverted to being the taciturn man she had

  first known, and try as she might she could not put her finger on what had gone wrong between them as she acknowledged then that she had been secretly hoping that this week might cement a foundation for a marriage that need not be ended. She sighed, realising the forlornness of that hope. Why, it had been only last night that he had snapped at her as if he didn't even like her very much. She had awakened in the night, and for some unknown reason she just had to know what time it was, but when reaching for her watch remembered she had left it in the bathroom. So donning her fluffy dressing gown she had opened her bedroom door and had been shaken, believing Ben to have been in bed hours ago, to find him still up.

  `My watch,' she had said by way of explanation, feeling disconcerted that he had moved from his chair to come to where she was standing as if suspecting she might be ill or something. 'I ... I left it in the bathroom,' she added, and made to walk past him, only because she was beset by nerves or maybe she wasn't fully awake, she had stumbled against him, and for one heavenly moment felt his arms around her as they had come automatically to steady her. She cursed herself for her weakness that instead of moving away from him, she had melted against him, only to hear the rasp of his voice as hard as flint saying :

  `Can't you look where you're going?'

  Never again would she melt against him, she vowed as coming fully awake she'd snapped back, 'Sorry, sir,' for all the world as though they were on duty and she was playing stewardess to his grumpy captain.

  Nothing had changed when they reached his apartment —nothing, she thought dully, except a worsening in their relationship. Oh well, she thought, with a resigned shrug, he would be on duty tomorrow and she herself the day after,

  perhaps when they met again they both would be in happier frames of mind.

  Midway through her unpacking Tiffany paused. Her mind had been eaten up most of the day with what a bear Ben was, but was it all his fault? He hadn't asked her to get all twisted up inside over him, and if she was brutally honest—far from making herself lovable this week, in order that he shouldn't find out how she felt about him, she had at times, she realised, been downright unlovable. She knew then that if the rest of the time spent together before their marriage ended was not to be spent in constant snapping and ill humour, she would have to make some effort to be the girl she had been before she had fallen in love with him.

  With her new resolution upon her, she went in search of him, he
r stomach fluttery, having no idea quite what she was going to say to him. She saw the back of him through his open bedroom door. He must have heard her, for he turned as she stood on the threshold of his room. Seeing his face unsmiling, his eyes cold, Tiffany's good intentions abruptly left her, though she had to have some excuse for standing there.

  W-would it be all right if I made a c-cup of tea?'

  `Good God, girl,' he barked at her. 'You live here, don't you?'

  Hurriedly she turned away, but quick as she was, was not fast enough to hide the hurt his tone caused.

  `Tiffany.'

  She hesitated, and felt his hand on her arm turning her to face him, her eyes large and misty with controlled tears as she faced him.

  `I'm sorry I hurt you,' he said quietly. 'I'm afraid I overlooked the fact that you don't yet feel at home. It is your home, though, Tiffany—and I want you to be happy here.'

  When he spoke like that she could forgive him anything. His apology gave her the strength to, ask, 'Can't we be friends, Ben?'

  `We have been a bit left-footed, haven't we?' he agreed, and as that smile she loved so much broke from him, she beamed back, eager for the chance of a fresh beginning. Only half aware of what she was doing, she reached up and kissed his cheek. Then, aghast at what she had done, she made to turn, only to find he still had his hand on her arm.

  It's almost worth having a spat with you, Tiffany—you make up so delightfully.'

  The teasing note in his voice stayed with her as she beat a hasty retreat into the kitchen. And it was just like being married when he joined her a few minutes later asking, `Have you made that tea yet?'

  Within an hour of being back at work Tiffany was in full swing, and within two hours it was as though she had never been away at all as she coped with the rush and bustle of getting airborne. After Ben had gone yesterday she had raced round making the apartment immaculate for his return, and since they had already had one spat over money and she daren't offer him the rent money she had paid Mr West, she had hared round the supermarket and had left his cupboards and icebox bulging.