An Ideal Wife

by Betty Neels

  ‘Pop them in the post,’ said Sir James genially. ‘You’ll catch the midday posting time if you hurry. Run along, now, you don’t need to dawdle around any longer.’

  Louisa, speechless, could only mutter goodbye. She would have to go to the post office if she was to catch the noon posting. She almost ran there, and then hurried back to get her car from the garage at her stepmother’s house. And all the time the minutes ticked away.

  Ebbesborne Wake wasn’t far away from Salisbury as the crow flew, but she wasn’t a crow and the roads were narrow. For a fuming ten minutes she was forced to creep along behind a load of hay until at last she was able to turn into another narrow lane leading to the village and the church. It was half past twelve by now, and still raining steadily. She drove past the pub and parked the car outside the church. There was no car there and her heart sank until she remembered that they had probably not arrived yet.

  The church was small, very old and smelled of generations of damp and chill, but it was beautiful and peaceful. There was no one there. She walked down its aisle and peeped into the vestry, which was empty, and then, undecided as to what to do next, hesitated by the front pew.

  ‘Don’t let me be too late!’ said Louisa, who had an old-fashioned belief in prayers being answered. And hers was. The church door creaked open and an elderly parson came in. He saw her at once and came down the aisle.

  ‘I’m afraid you are too late if you have come for the wedding. Were you not told that they had changed the time from one o’clock to half past ten? Something to do with catching their plane. They explained that was why there were no guests. There was no time to warn them. Really, one is at the mercy of public services these days. Is that your car outside? I hope you haven’t come too far?’

  ‘No,’ said Louisa. ‘Only from Salisbury. I hoped I’d be in time.’

  ‘So tiresome, and such bad weather.’ He hesitated. ‘I have come to close the church...’

  ‘Of course. I’ll go.’ Louisa summoned a smile, although she wanted to weep.

  She went out of the church, got into her car and followed the lane round the hill until it joined the road again. She was almost there when the Bentley passed her. The lane was narrow; she had ample time to see Thomas at the wheel. She didn’t stop to wonder why he was there but joined the road, turned back into the lane again and stopped once more outside the church. The Bentley was, she saw, already there.

  ‘Over here, Louisa,’ said Thomas, leaning back against an ancient tombstone.

  Words came tumbling out before she reached him.

  ‘Thomas, oh, Thomas, I’m sorry. They’re married already. I was going to get here first... Sir James kept me... I never meant, at least, I didn’t think...’

  These fragments of information appeared to leave the doctor unmoved. He said placidly, ‘Come here, Louisa, and sit down.’ He patted the ancient flat tombstone beside him. ‘Get your breath and tell me at your leisure why you are so bothered.’

  ‘Of course I’m bothered.’ She huddled onto the tombstone. ‘There’s no time to explain; perhaps you could go after them.’

  ‘And if by any chance I should find them, what do you suppose I should do?’

  ‘How should I know?’ She was almost in tears.

  ‘In that case, let us sit here peacefully while you explain.’

  ‘You will be very angry.’

  ‘Let us not make any futile conjectures about my state of mind until I am in possession of the facts.’ He joined her on the tombstone. ‘Now, supposing you begin at the beginning? Keeping, if possible, to the facts.’

  ‘But aren’t you going after them? To get an explanation?’ Louisa stopped herself just in time from wringing her hands. ‘I expect you’re in a state of shock...’

  The doctor somehow or other managed not to smile. ‘All the more reason to be put in possession of the truth. You implied that this marriage is your fault.’

  ‘Well, it is.’ Louisa blew her nose—an alternative to bursting into tears. ‘You won’t interrupt, will you?’

  ‘No, no.’

  ‘Well,’ began Louisa, and then stopped. ‘How did you know? It was a secret.’

  ‘These things get around,’ he said casually, and then added, ‘I’m waiting.’

  ‘It’s all my fault,’ said Louisa in a sudden rush of words. ‘You see, I thought that Helena and Percy were so suited to each other.’ She gulped. ‘And I didn’t think she was the right wife for you, so I thought that if they met and liked each other...’ Once she started she didn’t stop; it all came pouring out, sometimes muddled, but she didn’t leave anything out.

  ‘And then I was told that they were going to get married, and I had to do something about it, but I didn’t know what. You see, I had to stop them if I could. I didn’t know that you loved Helena, you see. At least, I thought you loved her a bit, otherwise you wouldn’t have asked her to marry you, but I didn’t know that you were deeply in love with her.’

  She gave a sudden gulp. ‘I’ve ruined your love life and I don’t know what to do about it.’

  She blew her nose again, and didn’t see Thomas’s delighted grin. He was enjoying himself hugely, and once Louisa had talked herself out he would enjoy himself even more...

  His phone rang and he took it from his pocket. He listened for a moment, and then said, ‘I’m on my way—twenty minutes or so.’

  He put the phone back in his pocket. He wasn’t a man who swore habitually but now he did, in a harsh voice which caused Louisa to look at him in surprise.

  ‘I must go at once. Get in the car and come with me, Louisa.’

  She shook her head. ‘No, I’d rather not. I don’t think I want to see you again, and I’m sure you feel the same.

  He didn’t answer, and she watched him drive away seconds later.

  She stayed sitting on the tombstone for a long time. It had been a relief to tell him everything but it hadn’t helped in any way. Helena and Percy were married, and even if Helena changed her mind—and divorce was easy—it would take some time to sort things out. Louisa would have to go away, of course, at least leave her job. Thomas wouldn’t be able to bear the sight of her.

  Louisa, who hadn’t cried, burst into tears and sat snivelling and sniffing, and the rain which had held off for a while started a steady drizzle. She didn’t notice, nor did she care.

  It was very quiet. The church stood a little apart from the village and the pub had its doors closed. Saturday afternoon and everyone was indoors watching sport on the television. Louisa leaned her head against a moss-covered headstone hanging over the tomb and closed her eyes. She was unhappy—she had never been so unhappy in her life before—and her head ached and she was tired. She closed her eyes and, heedless of the rain and the hardness of her resting place, went to sleep.

  She woke hours later, to find the doctor in a white-hot rage standing over her. ‘Good God, girl, are you mad?’ he wanted to know.

  He had spent hours at the hospital, carefully piecing together the fragments of a small girl’s broken leg as only he could do it, but, that done to his satisfaction, he had driven round to Louisa’s flat and found no one there. He had tried her stepmother’s house, too, and Felicity, on her way to early-evening drinks, had told him airily that she hadn’t any idea where Louisa was. Nor had Biddy been able to help. He didn’t know what had decided him to drive to Ebbesborne Wake, and now finding her there, sitting where he had left her, left him shaking with anger.

  The anger went as swiftly as it had come. He said gently, ‘Did you go to sleep? You’re very wet. Come along; I’ll take you home.’

  Louisa sat up. ‘I can’t, I’ve got pins and needles.’ Then she said, ‘I can manage; my car’s in the lane. I’ll go home now.’

  He scooped her off the tombstone and carried her to his car.

  ‘I’m too
heavy,’ said Louisa. He didn’t bother to answer but shovelled her into the front seat, got in beside her and drove off.

  ‘My car?’ said Louisa. The sleep had refreshed her and her spirits had lifted.

  ‘Someone can fetch it.’

  Presently she said, ‘We’re going the wrong way.’

  ‘Allow me to know my own way home.’ He didn’t sound angry any more.

  ‘Not to your house?’ said Louisa urgently.

  ‘You need to wash your face and get those wet things off, and we both need a meal.’

  ‘I can do that at home.’

  He didn’t answer and she sat silently, wishing that she wasn’t there beside him, and at the same time happy to be with him, even if he was in a towering rage.

  There was no sign of ill humour as he stopped before his front door. He bustled her inside, and Rosie came to meet them in the hall. She showed no surprise at the sight of Louisa, merely tut-tutted in a soothing way, remarking on the nasty rain, and took the mac the doctor had peeled off Louisa.

  ‘And those shoes, miss. They’ve had a proper soaking—wet feet and all. You just come along to the cloakroom and I’ll have those stockings off you.’

  She bore Louisa away, saying over her shoulder, ‘I’ll have a pot of tea for you in ten minutes, sir.’

  The doctor took his bag to his study and went to the drawing room to be greeted by Bellow and Lucky. He sat down in his chair; his work had taught him patience, and he was content to wait.

  Louisa came presently, her face pale with fright, her damp hair tied back with a piece of string from her pocket. She was a practical girl, and one never knew when a piece of string would come in handy. Her beautiful nose was pink-tipped and her eyes were puffy and shadowed. Her dress, crumpled and stained from the ancient stone upon which she had sat, did nothing for her appearance.

  The doctor set the kitten gently upon the carpet and got to his feet.

  ‘Come and sit down,’ he invited, his voice friendly and casual. ‘Rosie is bringing tea, and presently we’ll have a meal.’

  ‘No,’ said Louisa. ‘That is, no, thank you. I’d like to go home as soon as it’s convenient. I’ve been more than enough trouble.’ She sniffed, and he got up again and offered her a perfectly laundered handkerchief.

  ‘It’s not convenient,’ he told her placidly. ‘Certainly you have been a trouble, but that I can overlook for I’m sure your intentions were well-meant.’

  ‘They were, only they went wrong.’ She didn’t look at him; the kitten had climbed onto her lap and she was stroking it. ‘What will you do? Is there anything I can do to put it right?’

  ‘I don’t intend to do anything. It is only fair to let you know that I am delighted that Helena and Witherspoon are married. I was a little worried that something might occur to prevent that.’

  She did look at him then. ‘But that’s not... You can’t mean...?’

  Rosie coming in with the tea tray prevented her from saying more, which was just as well, since she had been saying nothing to the point.

  She poured the tea and, since she was very hungry even if her heart was breaking, she ate the sandwiches and cake which Rosie had thoughtfully provided. She wiped the last crumb from her mouth and got to her feet.

  ‘Thank you for my tea; you have been very kind. Do you suppose...?’

  ‘I suppose nothing, Louisa. Sit down and listen to me. Do you imagine that you were the only one to realise how suitable Helena and Witherspoon were together? All they needed was a little encouragement and a chance to see as much of each other as possible. It was inevitable, even without your well-meant schemes.’

  ‘But she told Percy that she couldn’t marry him because you loved her so much and it would break your heart.’

  ‘My dear girl, what woman, given the chance, isn’t going to make the most of such a situation? Percy had not the least idea of what my feelings might have been, but such a remark would only have served to clinch the matter between them. I rather think that they will be happy together, just as we shall be happy...’

  Louisa looked at him, sitting in his chair so calmly, saying things like that as though he was discussing the weather. She said uncertainly, ‘I don’t quite understand.’

  ‘I fell in love with you when we met. I knew what I wanted—I wanted you for my wife—but, of course, that had to wait while the situation was sorted out. I saw the solution when I saw Helena and Witherspoon together, and after that it was merely a question of time.’

  He got out of his chair, pulled her to her feet and held her close. ‘So you see, my darling, this was destined to happen even without your efforts. If I had known that you were going to race off to Ebbesborne Wake in that impetuous fashion, I would have stopped you.’

  ‘But you didn’t know.’

  ‘Oh, but I did. Biddy wrote me a letter.’

  Louisa stared up at him. ‘She did? But it was a secret...’

  ‘She thought that I should know. You see, she was so certain that you loved me.’

  Louisa, an honest girl, said, ‘Yes, I do. That’s why I wanted Helena and Percy to meet, but I didn’t know then, if you see what I mean. I wasn’t sure if I liked you, only I knew that she was all wrong for you.’

  An observation which afforded the doctor a good deal of satisfaction.

  ‘Say that again.’

  ‘That’s why I wanted...’

  ‘No, no. The first bit.’

  She felt his arms tighten around her. It was a delightful sensation.

  ‘Oh, you mean when I said “Yes, I do”.’ She added, ‘I do love you, Thomas.’

  He kissed her then, very gently, and then with a most satisfying ruthlessness.

  Louisa sighed in his arms. ‘Do you suppose that Helena and Percy will be happy?’

  ‘I see no reason why they shouldn’t be.’ He kissed the top of her untidy head. ‘Not, of course, as happy as we shall be.’

  He smiled at her with such tenderness that for a moment she thought that she might cry with happiness. ‘We shall have an ideal marriage,’ said Thomas. ‘We shall love each other and argue and quarrel and make it up again and delight in each other’s company. And the children, of course.’

  ‘Little boys,’ said Louisa dreamily.

  ‘Little girls, too.’

  ‘If you say so, dear Thomas,’ said Louisa. She smiled at him so sweetly that he kissed her again.

  * * * * *

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  ISBN: 9781460318683

  Copyright © 1998 by Betty Neels

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition
published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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