Roberta Leigh - And Then Came Love

by Roberta Leigh

  He flung the diamond watch on to the blotter, and seeing it, her face flamed. "I didn't… I didn't think you would find out. I’m sorry."

  "I bet you are!"

  "How did you get it? I never gave the jeweller my real name."

  "I went there to buy a present for-Belle," he said bluntly, "and they offered me this. It was lucky I hadn't bought it there in the first place — that would have made me look a real fool!" He came round the side of his desk. "You couldn't have spent your whole allowance on the clothes you bought. Why did you need more?"

  She avoided his eyes. "I had a reason… it's private."

  "Selling my present was very public though, so I'd like an answer."

  "Can't you forget it?"

  "No."

  "It's none of your business," she said desperately.

  '"Everything you do is my business," he retorted, his anger rising visibly. "What are you hiding? What are you frightened to tell me?"

  Her longing to blurt out the truth died in the face of his fury. In his present mood he might easily stop Adrian's allowance entirely. And she couldn't let that happen. At least not until she had spoken to Adrian herself and made arrangements — though heaven alone knew how she would do it — to pay his fees herself.

  "Well," Matthew said violently. "I'm waiting for an answer and I won't let you go until I get one."

  "Then you'll have to keep me a prisoner here! I've no intention of telling you and shouting won't make me. The watch was mine and I had a right to sell it if I wanted to."

  "You wanted the money for someone else,"" he grated. "You didn't spend it on yourself. I'm not fool enough to believe that"

  "I don't care what you believe! You've no right to shout at me like this. I'm not your slave."

  "You're not my anything — except a disloyal, deceitful woman!"

  He slumped down in a chair, his anger replaced by a weariness that left him looking more dejected than she had ever seen him before.

  Watching him, Stella's own anger disappeared and she was overcome by remorse. Poor Matthew. She had robbed him of every illusion he had cherished about her, and had left him nothing but regret and bitterness.

  "Matthew," she whispered, "I want to —"

  "Get out," he said softly. "Get out of my sight"

  It was not until much later that evening that Stella's remorse ebbed sufficiently for her to remember exactly how Matthew had discovered she had sold the watch, and with the knowledge her remorse vanished. So he had gone to buy a present for another woman. It served him right to get a shock! Pity she couldn't give him a few more. What right did he have to complain she was making a fool of him when he was doing exactly the same to her?

  Angrily she tried to get to sleep, but memory of the bitter scene kept her nerves at fever pitch. What. sort of girl was Belle to be able to hold his interest for so long? To make him return to her for sympathy and love? Love. Stella trembled at the mention of the word, her imagination giving it reality, so that her mind's eye could visualize him kissing willing lips, touching an eager body.

  "I must be mad!" Spoken aloud, the words restored her to some semblance of calm, but sleep still would not come and she sat up in bed and turned on the light She did not know if Matthew was home.

  In the past few weeks, since Jess had learned the truth about them, he no longer occupied the dressing room, sleeping instead in a corner bedroom on the other side of the hall. Was he also regretting their quarrel she wondered, or was he still too angry to realise she might have a perfectly good reason for not telling him what he wanted to know?

  Perhaps in the morning she would tell him the whole story, tell him too that she had warned Adrian she would not help him any more. At least it would show Matthew she did not condone her brother's behaviour, nor expect the boy to go on being helped if he did not have the sense to help himself.

  Not falling asleep till dawn, it was midday when she awoke, and only then because Elsie came hi-with a telegram. It was from Charles. He was on his way north and would be calling to see her that evening.

  "Not bad news, ma'am?" Elsie asked anxiously.

  "I don't think so. Mr. Hayward's coming this evening. “I’m sure if there was anything wrong he would have telephoned."

  "What would you like for dinner? Miss Jess has gone to Cleethorpes for a few days."

  Stella bit her lip. How like her sister-in-law to go away without even the courtesy of telling her.

  "She left cold mutton and pork," Elsie went on, "but if you'd like to leave it to me…"

  Stella grinned. "I'd be delighted!"

  "Then we'll have fresh salmon. I'll leave everything ready in the dining-room and cover it with a cloth. Then you can help yourself. There'll only be the two of you. Mr. Matthew isn't in to dinner."

  Some of Stella's good humour evaporated. It was ironical that she knew less about her husband's movements than Elsie.

  "He's having a snack with the architect," the girl continued. "I heard him tell Mist Jess. Then he's going to the site."

  Her pleasure in knowing Matthew would not be with Belle filled Stella with sack happiness that she was afraid. Why should she care what he did so long as he did not bother her?

  "Perhaps we can leave him some hot soup in a flask?" she was surprised to hear herself say. "He'll need warming up when he comes in."

  "Barley soup," Elsie said. "Mr. Matthew loves that. It's nice to be on our own, isn't it?"

  "Yes," Stella smiled, and pondered on the remark long after the girl had left the room. If she and Matthew could have started their marriage the way they had planned, instead of having to begin it under Jess's disapproving eye, so many things might have been different. No lonely hours waiting for him to come home that first night; no business problems to turn him into a 'stranger; no Belle…

  Belle. The thought of this unknown yet pervasive woman abruptly brought Stella back to the present It was pointless to go on with these thoughts. The past could not be altered and, because of it, nor could the future.

  With Jess out of the house Grey Walls seemed less oppressive, and Stella enjoyed wandering through the rooms and moving the furniture into different positions. The ugly Knowle suite looked less stiff when pulled away from the walls and set informally in front of the hearth, and the dining table, opened to it's full length, became long and graceful instead of squat and truncated. .

  It was nine o'clock before Charles arrived, apologizing profusely for being late and blaming it on heavy traffic along the motorway.

  "I had to come by car," he explained. "There were so many things to do before I left that I couldn't rely on catching a train."

  "Is anything wrong?" she questioned. "You look awfully pale."

  "Haven't you seen the papers?"

  "Not for a couple of days. Why?"

  "Uncle Henry and Alan were drowned during &e weekend. Then- boat capsised off the coast."

  Stella sat down. "How ghastly."

  '"Yes," he said jerkily. "It was a terrible shock. I can't believe it even now." He rubbed a hand over his forehead. "I'm on my way north for the funeral, but I — I wanted to See you first."

  She stood up quickly. "Let's eat something. You look as if you can do with it"

  "I could do with a drink."

  "Of course, how stupid of me."

  Chattering the whole time she poured him a whisky, keeping up the conversation as they went into the dining room. But with the meal finished, and sitting opposite him in the drawing-room again, she knew she could no longer stave off what he had come here to say.

  "Even you can't talk forever," he said dryly. "Though you made a very good try." He clasped his hands together, calm and judicial, only the tenseness around his eyes giving him away. "Since I saw you last I haven't been able to get you out of my mind. You were so on edge — so unhappy."

  "I'd quarrelled with Matthew over his sister," she said hastily. "That was why."

  "It went deeper than that I'm not blind, Stella. At one time I thought you li
ked Armstrong more than you would admit, but after seeing the two of you that night…" He leaned forward. "Don't pretend with me anymore. After all these years you at least owe me honesty."

  She stared at the carpet, wondering at her own indecision and the welter of conflicting emotions that had taken possession of her. "I don't know what to say," she whispered. "And that's being as honest as I can! Things aren't working out between Matthew and me, but that doesn't mean… I'm still married to him, Charles. I'm still his wife."

  "But you don't love him! You've nothing in common and you should never have married him in the first place! Not that I blame you entirely. I was just as much at fault for not stopping you."

  "You tried," she reminded him.

  "Not strongly enough. It wasn't because I didn't love you — you know that — but because I couldn't give you what you wanted." He jumped up and came over to her. "But now I can! I can help Adrian and your mother and do everything Armstrong's doing! Don't turn me down. You love me, Stella. We're the same kind of people and we should have married years ago."

  "But we didn't. Talking like this won't turn back the clock."

  "Then push the hands forward! Think of the future — our future. We'll be so happy, Stella! We'll be able to do everything we've ever wanted. No more slogging in an office for me and you won't need to bury yourself miles from everyone who cares for you! Leave Armstrong. Leave him and come to me."

  "How can you talk like this? He's my husband! What's got into you, Charles? Haven't you any sense of decency!"

  There was a short, ugly silence, and Stella wished she could retract the words. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. But you took me by surprise."

  "I always seem to surprise you," he said bleakly. "Either I'm too reserved for you or I'm too emotional." He paused, then said: "When I heard about my uncle and cousin-1 didn't know where I was. I couldn't take it all in. Then I realised what it meant to us… that we could be together… so I had to come and see you."

  Sadly she looked at him, knowing she could not give him the answer he wanted. "It's no good,

  Charles. I can't .marry you. I couldn't, even if, I were freer”

  "I've given you a shock." He spoke as if he had not heard her. "You can't take it in either."

  "That's not true. Please don't fool yourself, it won't do any good. I can't marry you,."

  "Of course you can! If all this had happened earlier, you wouldn't have hesitated. You're being unnecessarily loyal. Armstrong married you knowing you didn't love him and —"

  "That doesn't mean I can cheat him twice!"

  "You're cheating him by staying with him! He's no fool. He knows what you think of him."

  "How can he know when I don't know myself!"

  "Stella!" Shocked, Charles stared at her. "You feel sorry for Armstrong. Nothing more than that. And even your sympathy's wasted! He knew you married him to help your family and he accepted you on those terms."

  "And now I don't need him — now you can take up where he leaves off — you suggest I leave him?"

  "Certainly. It's the logical thing to do."

  Her laugh was harsh. "You're as selfish and unloving as I am!"

  "If that's meant to be funny…"

  "It's not funny at all. It's tragic."

  "I never expected you to act like this," Charles burst out. "I don't know what's got into you."

  "I don't know either." Wearily she rested her head in her hands. "Do you mind if we don't talk about it anymore. I will be leaving Matthew but I don't know what I'll do afterwards. I don't even want to think beyond the next few months.."

  "Very well." As though satisfied that he had won his point, Charles was his old, gentle self. "I don't care how long I have to wait for you. Just remember I'll always be there."

  His words reminded her that Matthew had once said the same. Yet how quickly he had forgotten, turning to someone else the first time they had quarrelled. Her eyes strayed to the piano, and remembering the last time she had played for him, she- could not find it in her heart to blame him. Like a wounded animal he had turned for comfort to the one person who could give it to him.

  Sympathy for Matthew overflowed towards Charles, making her hold out her hands to bun. "Dear Charles, I'm not worth your loving."

  "I'm the best judge of that"

  Unexpectedly he pulled her to her feet and kissed her. Passively she surrendered to the gentle pressure of his lips, not wanting to hurt him by showing the distaste — almost revulsion — she felt at having his arms around her.

  "Stella," he muttered, "I love you. Come away with me."

  "Not till I've finished with her!"

  With an exclamation Charles drew back, horrified to see Matthew in the doorway, his face twisted with fury.

  "Get out of my house!" Matthew ordered. "Get out before I kill you!"

  Throwing Stella an anxious look Charles moved close to her again, but she shook her head at him, her eyes pleading.

  "You'd better go, Charles. Quickly."

  Silently he obeyed her. The front door slammed, his car engine revved and then faded into the distance. Only then did she glance at Matthew, frightened by his flushed face and red rimmed eyes.

  "There's no need to look so angry," she said as coolly as she could. "He was only — only kissing me goodbye."

  "And asking you to go with him at the same time! Don't bother pretending with me. I know what game you're playing at."

  He lurched towards her and she stepped behind the settee, her heart pounding. "You're drunk!"

  "Not so drunk that I don't know when I'm being made a fool of! Letting your fancy friend make love to you when my back's turned! You weren't so cold when he held you in Ms arms, were you — or aren't you as particular as you used to be?" He reached out and pulled her towards him. "He was the one you wanted the money for, wasn't it? Your friend Charles didn't have enough money to marry you, so you married a fool who could help him instead? I've been looking after your brother and you've been looking after your boy friend!"

  "That’s not true! I've never given him money and you know it!"

  "Do I?" he sneered. "Well, I don't know it any longer! If you can kiss him like that you can kiss me — and more! I've a greater right than anyone else — I'm your husband, or have you forgotten it?" She tried to push past him but he barred her way. "No, you don't. You're not getting away from me this time, my lovely Stella! Let's see how lovely you can be to the poor fool who married you!"

  He caught her close, forcing her head back as she struggled in his grasp. "No Matthew, no! You don't know what you're doing!"

  "It's the first time I do!" he said harshly. "I should have done this a long time ago. If I had, you'd be different to what you are now — cold, heartless, dishonest; unwomanly! The only thing you've never been is a wife!"

  Her protests were stifled as his lips crushed down on hers, and her limbs weakened against the hard pressure of his body. She pressed her hands against his chest but her strength was puny against his, and, though she tried to turn her head away, his would not leave hers. Never had any man assaulted her senses like this, never had she been kissed with such naked passion. She reeled against him, half fainting as he picked her up in his arms, kicked open the door and climbed the stairs.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SENSING that someone was watching her, Stella stirred and opened her eyes, colour flooding her face as she saw Matthew standing at the foot of the bed. They looked at one another in silence, then with a groan he sat down and buried his head in his hands.

  "What have you done to me? What kind of man have you made me?" Still she said nothing, and he raised his head. "Until last night I had my self-respect Now I haven't even got that."

  "I didn't rob you bf it," she said quietly.

  His hands lifted in a hopeless gesture. "I’ve no excuse to offer, except that when I saw you with Charles I went mad."

  "Charles was kissing me against my will — there was nothing between us and there never has been. As fo
r my giving him money, the question never arose because he never needed it."

  "You don't owe me any explanations," he said gruffly.

  "But I want you to know! Charles wasn't in your sort of position, but he wasn't on the bread line either! And he certainly isn't now! His uncle and cousin died a few days ago and lie's the sole heir. If you had let me explain…"

  "I was crazy with temper," Matthew muttered. "When I saw him holding you I couldn't think straight."

  "I suppose you think I sold my watch for Charles too? Well I didn't It was for Adrian. He'd been gambling and he needed the money."

  "I should have guessed." With a groan Matthew got to his feet. "Why didn't you come to me?"

  "And ask you for more money? I owed you too much already."

  "After last night, you owe me nothing. I'm the one who owes you. I did something I'll regret for the rest of my life — something I can never put right." His voice was anguished. "It would be better for both of us if you left. You won't be able to look at me without remembering and I'll never be able to look at you and forget."

  "Very well."

  "Is that all you can say?"

  "What else is there?"

  She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again he had gone. Miserably she got out of bed and began to dress. Matthew had done her the greatest wrong a man could do to a woman, but she was unable to hate him, unable to forget that, as he had overcome her defences, so he had overcome her fear of him until, forgetting all ,else, she had clung to ten with abandon, no longer forcing him to conquer but willingly giving him what he desired.

  Yet he did not seem to realise it! Battered by self-hatred he only remembered her first cries of anguish; he had forgotten her last cries of surrender. And because of this he had asked her to go.

  Last night she had wept with shame, but the emotion she felt now was totally different, defying analysis and leaving her bewildered and frightened. She stared at herself in the full length mirror, marvelling that there was no difference to be seen in her tall, slender figure; nothing to indicate the frenzy it had aroused in Matthew. Hastily she averted her gaze, forcing her mind back to the present and, inevitably, towards the future.