Roberta Leigh - And Then Came Love

by Roberta Leigh

  STELLA racked her brains how to buy the new clothes Matthew wanted without having to ask him for the money. The two hundred pounds she had sent Adrian had swallowed her entire allowance and if she asked him for more she would have to tell him the reason. The only solution was to order the dresses on credit and settle the bills with her next quarter's allowance. Matthew wanted her to look smart and she would certainly not give him cause to complain of her appearance again! Brighter colours made her look more attractive, and inconsequentially she wondered what Belle was like, curious to see the woman to whom Matthew had gone. What would have happened if he had come home that night and accepted her offer to start again? Would they have been happy, or would then: marriage — like so many others not founded on mutual love — have petered out into boredom? But it was useless to think about the might-have-been; what was done could not be undone.

  For the next few days Matthew was more than usually morose, and Stella sensed he had quarrelled with his sister. One evening during dinner it struck her as incongruous that they should all sit in this over-furnished dining-room eating from the same table, yet having so little in common. What would her mother say if she knew she was living with a sister-in-law who ignored her and a husband who had turned to another woman?

  She put down her fork and Matthew looked up.

  "Haven't finished, have you?"

  “I’m not hungry."

  He resumed eating and she could not help thinking that a month ago he would have shown concern at her lack of appetite — would have made anxious suggestions that would have given her a feeling of being cared for; now he viewed the fact that she had scarcely eaten with calm unconcern. Disgruntled, she picked up her fork and began to peck at her food again. ,

  There was a knock at the door and Elsie came in. "Someone to see you, Mr. Matthew. Says his name's Crowther and you're expecting him. I've put him in the study."

  "That'll be the architect. Tell him I won't be long."

  Jess looked enquiringly at her brother. "What do you want with an architect?"

  "I'm building a new factory."

  "Sudden, isn't it?"

  "I've been thinking about it a long while. It'll .be the most modern one in the country. Increase our production by two hundred per cent."

  "Aren't you rich enough?" Stella asked.

  "Once you're in my sort of position," Matthew said dryly, "you don't work for what you can earn. You work because it's a challenge, because you want to be better than anyone else, more efficient, show bigger profits. But there's no personal gain involved."

  "You would still get richer though," she pointed out. (.

  "The government would," he replied. "In my tax bracket I'm working for them!" He rose. "I’ll not be seeing you again this evening, Stella. I'm going out when I've finished with Crowther."

  The door closed behind him and Jess snorted. "How can you sit back and let him go to someone else night after night? Even if you don't love him, haven't you any pride?"

  "I'd rather not discuss it."

  "That's your favourite answer! But at least tell me one thing: did you like Matt at all when you married him or was it only because of his money?"

  With something akin to despair Stella wondered how much more cross-examination she would have to tolerate. "I'd every intention of making Matthew happy when I married him," she said quietly. "Unfortunately things went wrong from the start."

  "Meaning no honeymoon and such like, I suppose?"

  "That, and — and other things."

  Jess sniffed. "I daresay it would affect someone like you. But the glamour would have worn off honeymoon or not, and then where would you have been? Right where you-are now! I always suspected there was more to your marrying Matt than met the eye, though I must say you keep your reasons well hidden."

  "What did you expect me to do — buy Harrods?"

  Jess reddened. "You think you're very clever, don't you? But people here aren't as stupid as you make out Do you think they don't know why you never bother getting dressed up when you go out? Not because you don't want to show off, but because you are showing off! Because you think you're so much better than everyone else that being smart isn't necessary!"

  "Of all the ridiculous…" Words failed her, and Stella longed to wipe the smug smile off the ugly face so close to her own. But she was determined not to enter into a slanging match, knowing that a reasoned reply would arouse more fury than a show of anger. “I’m sorry if my trousseau hasn't met with your approval. Obviously we don’t have the same taste."

  "You’ve none at all. Half the time you look as if you're going to a funeral! The only time you got dressed up was when your fancy friend came to dinner. Nothing was too much trouble for him! You filled the house with flowers and expensive food and spent money like water. But anything's good enough for Matt!"

  "You're in charge of the housekeeping," Stella said icily. "You've made that abundantly clear."

  The sharpness of the retort was blunted by Jess thick skin; "That still shouldn't stop you from being a loving wife. I've never even seen you kiss him!"

  "I wouldn't in front of you!"

  "Hoity-toity!"

  Clenching her hands, Stella held back the urge to smack the smug red face. "I'm going to bed," she said tightly.

  "When are you going properly? To London, I mean. Matt said you'd be leaving soon."

  "Then ask him for the date," she said and slammed the door behind her.

  Towards the end of the week Stella went to Leeds and spent the day shopping. Matthew wanted her to be well dressed, so she would comply with his order. At least she would have a chance to see if Jess enjoyed watching someone else spend her brother's money!

  At the big stores the assistants were eager to serve her, taking it for granted as soon as she mentioned her name that the goods were to be charged to Matthew's account, and although she had only intended buying a couple of dresses she returned home laden with parcels.

  Jess was in the hall as she came in. "Well, well, you've done yourself proud! Wouldn't be wanting any help to get that lot upstairs, would you?" she enquired sarcastically.

  "Thanks." Stella's tone was laconic. "You can bring up the three boxes in the porch, if you like."

  With a muttered exclamation Jess disappeared into the kitchen and Stella went upstairs smiling.

  Milly's dinner-party was the first occasion she would be seen in public with Matthew since his name had been linked with Belle's, and though she had professed disinterest in what his friends thought, she dreaded having to face them. Once they had envied her for having married him; now they would pity her for the same reason.

  She dressed for the event as carefully as for the evening with Charles, and when she went downstairs was conscious of looking her best. Her hair had been set into a high coronet on top of her head and her make-up was more accentuated than usual, eyelashes and eyelids darkened, lips softly pink to match the lacquer on her nails. In deference to Matthew's liking for vivid colours she wore a dress of peacock blue with a tightly swathed bodice and full skirt. As she and Matthew were the same height she rarely put on high heels, but now she did, and her silver sandals together with her upswept hair made her appear even taller than she was. He had once called her his stair, the woman he set on a pedestal; if the idol had proved to have feet of clay, at least he should still look up to her!

  Coming into the drawing-room a few minutes later, Matthew stared at her in surprise, but the coldness of her eyes belied the provocation of her loveliness.

  "You're punctual, Matthew."

  "Not more than you."

  He walked across and stood in front of the fire, the grey hair at his temples catching the light. In a dinner jacket he looked commanding and impressive, and it was hard to believe he had ever held her in his arms and been so humbled by his love.

  Quickly she reached out for her coat but he took it from her and silently held it out. For a moment his hands lingered on the fur and she trembled at their pressure and drew q
uickly away, relieved to hear Jess's step across the hall.

  Entering Milly's living room some half hour later, Stella was acutely conscious of the hush that greeted them, and she clung tightly to her hostess' hand.

  'Tin so pleased you came early," the woman smiled and led her over to the bar.

  Stella was reminded of her first visit here. Then she had been toasted as a bride: now it was only a matter of weeks before she would become a runaway wife.

  Aware of Ned's speculative gaze she forced herself to an unusual gaiety and deliberately stayed close to Matthew, joining in the conversation whenever she could.

  "How's the new factory going?" Ned asked him suddenly.

  "I approved the plans last week. It's going to be the best —"

  "Factory in Yorkshire," Stella interrupted. "But you promised you wouldn't talk business tonight and I'm going to keep you to your word." She gave Ned a melting glance. "Matthew works so hard during the day that I insist he relaxes at night."

  Ned beamed. "My wife's been trying to make me do that for years."

  "Trying what?" Milly asked vaguely.

  "To make me stop talking shop when I'm home. Stella's trying to do it with Matt"

  Milly smiled, "Any luck?"

  "Not much. I don't see enough of him for it to take effect" Stella slipped her arm through Matthew's and felt him stiffen at her touch. "I'm on my own so much in the evenings that I told him I'd complain to his friends — perhaps you'll have more influence on him than I have!"

  Milly laughed: "Husbands take a long time to train, my dear, but it's worth persevering. Now let's go in .to dinner, shall we?"

  On their way across the hall Matthew drew her aside. "What are you trying to do?" he whispered furiously. "All this talk about being alone at night — what d'you want people to think?"

  "Only what you want them to," she said innocently.

  "I thought you'd like me to give the impression that I minded being on my own."

  "You needn't overdo the act," he growled.

  "But it's for your sake. You want your friends to believe I love you, and after tonight I'm sure they will!"

  Driving home several hours later Stella knew she had created the impression she had wanted. After tonight no one would be able to say she was an unloving wife: her openly adoring looks at Matthew had seen to that. With wry amusement she wondered how Jess had viewed her behaviour, and as soon as they entered the house her sister-in-law gave vent to her opinion.

  "I don't know what your game was, but you played it perfectly!"

  "Thank you, Jess, a word of praise from you is rare indeed."

  "I didn't intend it as praise," the woman snorted, and stumped upstairs as her brother came in and closed the door.

  In the dim light of the hall Stella was aware of the powerful width of his shoulders, and as he moved towards her she felt a tremor of fear.

  "Not only did you look the part of the adoring wife," he said heavily, "but you acted it well too!"

  "The Armstrong family are in a very complimentary mood tonight — your sister's just said the same thing."

  "But Jess couldn't appreciate it like me! It was interesting to see how you could have been if you'd had a mind. Let's see what you're like without an audience."

  Before she realized his intention his arms closed around her and his mouth came down on hers. Matthew had kissed her before with passion, with tenderness, with force, but never so completely the master of his own emotions or so regardless of hers, and she swayed against Mm, her lips responding of their own volition until the kiss had spent itself.

  He let her go and she stared at him dumbly. Until now he had always been the one who was uncertain: this time it was she who could find nothing to say.

  "You'd better go to bed," he said quietly. "The curtain's down."

  Still without speaking she went up the stairs, but though her head was high her lips were trembling.

  As soon as she awoke the following morning Stella's thoughts flew to Matthew. His kiss had shown her, as nothing else could, that he was not the same man she had known in London. It had been a selfish kiss with a strange quality of detachment, and where a few months ago she would have ridiculed the idea of his caring for anyone else, now she was not so sure. Matthew had been the one person on whom she had thought she could depend and with feminine, perversity she felt cheated that she could no longer take his devotion for granted.

  Irritably she sat up in bed, forcing herself to smile as Elsie came in with her tray. On it was a letter from Adrian, and the smile left her face as she read its contents. It was almost identical to. his last one, though this time he made no excuse for wanting more money, merely saying he was in debt again and needed help.

  Shaking with nerves, she pushed aside her tray. She had intended using her next allowance to pay the bills she had incurred, but if she sent Adrian the money, the unpaid accounts would go to Matthew. And she couldn't let that happen! If it did, he would want to know what she had done with her allowance, and to lie to him would be impossible. One look at her face and he would know she was hiding something. No, her only hope of covering up for her brother was to raise the money he needed by selling something. But what? Apart from her engagement ring — which she daren't sell —- her only possession of value was the diamond watch Matthew had given her on their wedding day, and loath though she was to part with it, she had no choice.

  Anger against Adrian mounted. How dare he write and demand money again? Didn't he have any sense of gratitude to Matthew — even to herself — for giving him a chance to follow the career he had set Ms heart on? This was the last time she would help him. From now on he must stand or fall by his own efforts.

  Later that day she took a bus into Leeds, wearing the most inconspicuous clothes in her wardrobe. Avoiding the large jewellers she walked the length of Brig-gate before finding a discreet but well-established firm of family silversmiths.

  The man behind the counter appraised the watch and made no comment on her story that it had been left to her in an aunt's will. He excused himself and disappeared into an inner room, and for a moment Stella panicked at the idea that he might think she had stolen it. However he returned and put the watch down on the counter.

  "The best offer we can make is ninety pounds."

  "It's worth far more than that!"

  "Possibly, but we've a very small sale for this sort of thing. It would have to be cleaned — and —"

  "But it's practically new! I — I mean, my aunt bought if just before she died."

  He looked at her curiously but said nothing, and a few minutes later Stella left the shop with the money in her handbag. Going straight to the post office, she bought a money order for the entire amount, and, standing in a little booth, penned a letter to Adrian.

  "I had to sell my diamond watch to get you this, "and it's the last tune I intend helping you. If you get in debt again, don't bother coming to me."

  She tapped the pen against her cheek, debating whether� to tell him she was leaving Matthew, then decided to give him a hint.

  "Make the most of your time at the Academy, for Matthew may not be behind you much longer. He's generous at the moment, but don't bank on it lasting."

  With the money despatched, she put her -brother from-her mind, but it was not as easy to forget how she had obtained it Memory of Matthew's pleasure when he had given her the watch kept haunting her, increasing 1he guilt she had felt at having to part with it. It seemed wrong for Adrian to benefit from it, and when the only acknowledgement of her letter was a curt note of thanks, she was dismally aware that as a brother he fell lamentably short of' her expectations.

  If Stella had not been preoccupied with Adrian her days would have been unbearably empty. Jess became increasingly taciturn and Matthew was out all day and most evenings. Pride forbade her asking him about the new factory, and the first news she had of its progress was when he told her he wanted her to lay the foundation stone.

  "The men will expect it, so
we may as well make it an occasion. It'll be the last one we'll be able to give them before you go."

  "Will I have to make a speech?"

  "Just a few words — I'll write it for you. The main thing is to be smart and pretty and look as if you cared."

  She flushed at his tone. "Must you be so rude? Anyone would think 7 had broken our marriage!"

  "It was finished before I went to Belle, if that's what you mean. You showed your opinion of me quite plainly when Charles came to dinner." His face was expressionless, but there was more emotion in his voice than she had heard for a long time. "I'll never forget how you behaved when I asked you to play for me."

  "I apologized for that," she said awkwardly. "Can't you forget it?"

  "Can you forget Belle?"

  "That's different."

  "Is it? One hurt my pride as much as the other hurt yours."

  "You flatter yourself," she retorted. "Nothing you could do would hurt me." �

  He rubbed the side of his face wearily. "I suppose not, but I hope for your sake you'll find a man who will be able to hurt you. Otherwise you'll go through life without any love at all. Now let's drop the subject. I'll go and write your speech."

  If was after dinner one evening towards the end of the week that Matthew asked to speak to her privately, and preceding him into the study she thought how well the room suited him, with its cheerful modern atmosphere and rich smell of leather. In his own background he looked masterful and commanding, and she could understand the respect with which he was regarded by everyone who worked for him. Seeing him like this it was easy to appreciate his attraction, to be swayed by the virile magnetism that emanated from his every gesture.

  Eyes fixed on him, she leaned against the side of an armchair. "What do you want to talk to me about?"

  "Don't you know? Or do you intend to brazen it out? I wouldn't try, if I were you."

  His menacing tone took her by surprise. "I don't know what you mean." -

  "Don't put on an act with me!"

  "I'm not. What are you talking about?"

  "The watch!" he shouted. "That's what I'm talk-hag about!" He banged his hand on the desk. "If you needed more money for clothes why didn't you ask me for it? Or did you want to humiliate me by selling the present I gave you?"