by Penny Jordan
Her aunt’s perception brought a vagrant smile to her lips. ‘Saul wants us to get married,’ she said bluntly. ‘He knows about the baby.’
‘My dear, you must be so pleased!’
Margaret’s reaction was so different from her own that it was several seconds before Lucy could assimilate it. When she had, she smiled a little wryly. Perhaps it was unfair of her after all to expect her aunt to be anything other than a product of her generation and upbringing. To Margaret, the fact that Saul wanted to marry her obviously represented a happy ending to the little saga.
‘He doesn’t love me, Margaret,’ she felt bound to say. ‘He simply wants to marry me because…’ She could hardly tell her aunt of Saul’s dislike of Neville, she realised.
‘Because he feels it is the right thing to do,’ her aunt finished approvingly for her. ‘And so it is, Lucy. A child needs two parents,’ she reminded her niece, unwittingly echoing Saul’s own words. ‘I know you must be feeling very muddled and confused, but, my dear, I do urge you to give Saul’s proposal proper consideration. Of course your uncle and I would support you in whatever you decide to do, but I really think…’
‘That I should accept Saul’s proposal?’
Suddenly she felt unutterably depressed… betrayed almost. She wanted to cry out that she didn’t want to marry a man who didn’t love her, but somehow she simply did not have the strength, and wouldn’t Aunt Margaret perhaps just think her actions selfish? Was she being selfish, in denying her child the opportunity to grow up in the secured, moneyed background Saul could provide for them?
What was the matter with her? she asked herself crossly. How on earth had she become so irresolute and weak? She was behaving more like Fanny than herself; Fanny the clinging vine who was only too happy to entrust her responsibilities to others.
Suddenly she thought of Oliver, growing up under the burden of not knowing the truth about his parentage. Would she honestly want that for her child?
* * *
What on earth should she do?
It was a question which worried at her almost constantly over the next two days, wholly taking over that part of her brain which was not occupied with the hospital tests that were being carried out on her.
The private room she had found waiting for her on her arrival at the local hospital had been something of a surprise, and she had queried it, only to discover that she had been given a private room on Saul’s instructions.
Already he seemed to be taking over her life, staking a claim in the future of their child.
So far the tests had been very reassuring, and the doctor attending her was convinced that the vitamin deficiency was relatively minor.
‘That does not mean of course that it can be ignored,’ he told her on the second afternoon of her stay. ‘But it does mean that initially we can compensate for it with very small doses of vitamin.
‘Mr Bradford informs us that it’s more than likely that you and he will be returning to Florida very shortly. That’s good. The Americans are very on the ball with their ante-natal care. The sunshine should help as well—it will make you relax a little. You’re very tense and on edge. Too much so. It won’t do the baby any good, you know.’
‘Are you trying to tell me I could have a miscarriage?’ Lucy asked frantically, alarmed by the grave expression in his eyes.
‘There is always that possibility,’ he agreed. ‘Not so much due to the vitamin problem as to your own mental state. You need to relax more. You’re not sleeping, so the nurses tell me. These first months are often an anxious time, especially with a first baby. Some women can sail through pregnancy, others aren’t as lucky. Your health will need to be carefully monitored.’
After he had gone, Lucy lay with her eyes closed, but sleep had never been further away. Did she have the right to risk the life of her baby, simply because she could not endure that thought of Saul marrying her merely out of necessity? Because she wanted love and not duty?
She was told that she could go home the following morning, but that she ought to stay in the area for a few days until all the results of the tests had come through.
In the evening Margaret and Leo both visited her, Leo looking faintly apprehensive and Margaret openly admiring the luxury of her room.
‘Goodness, it’s more like a luxury hotel bedroom than a hospital,’ she commented as she sat down in the chair the nurse provided.
‘How are you feeling?’ she added, studying Lucy’s pale face. ‘We saw your doctor on our way in and he says that the vitamin problem isn’t too desperate. He is worried about you though, Lucy. He was telling Saul…’
‘Saul? Saul’s here with you?’ Instantly she was thrown into a panic.
‘He’s with the doctor,’ Margaret told her. ‘Lucy, have you thought seriously about his offer of marriage?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Please don’t think Leo and I are backtracking on our offer to have you with us, but from what your doctor has been telling us I’m really very concerned about anything happening to you. The house is rather remote, and if Leo and I weren’t there and something happened… We do go out rather a lot, and we’re due to go on holiday with some friends later in the month. I’m not trying to put you off, my dear, but for your sake and the baby’s, wouldn’t you be better off with Saul? After all, it is his child… and you do love him.’
Yes, she did, and that was the problem. If she didn’t love him it would be much easier for her to come to a decision, to decide cold-bloodedly and without emotion that Saul owed it to both her and the baby to take care of them; but loving him as she did, it was agonising to contemplate living in some degree of intimacy with him, while knowing that he disliked and despised her, and cared only for their child. Did she have the strength to endure that?
When visiting time came to an end without Saul coming in to see her she was dismayed to discover how disappointed she felt. She told herself it was only because she wanted to discover what he had learned from her doctor, but she knew that wasn’t completely true. She wanted to see him, craved the sight of him like a junkie hooked on drugs, even while she knew it destroyed her.
∗ ∗ ∗
Taking her completely off guard he arrived the next morning, just as she was being discharged. His expression was grim and uncommunicative as he led her to his car.
She had expected her aunt and uncle to come for her, and tiny prickles of apprehension iced up and down her spine as he opened the door for her.
He didn’t speak at all as they drove back, only addressing her when, instead of stopping at the Dower House, he swept past it, down the drive towards the Manor.
‘Don’t worry,’ he told her laconically, ‘I’m not kidnapping you. I just wanted to have a little talk before I restored you to the bosom of your family.’
Lucy could guess what he wanted to talk about and, drained by the sudden surge of weakness flooding her body, she said tiredly, ‘There’s no need for us to talk, Saul. You’ve won. I’ll marry you. But please… all I want to do right now is lie down…’
Her voice wobbled betrayingly, the car screeching to a halt as he almost stood on the brakes halfway down the drive.
At first she thought he was angry with her, and then she realised the tension round his mouth and in his eyes was caused by fear—fear not for her, but for their child, she realised hazily as he leaned towards her, his voice urgent as he called her name, dragging her back from that black place that waited for her.
‘Damn, you, Lucy,’ he swore thickly, as her faintness receded. ‘You take years off my life every time you do that. Is it any wonder your aunt and uncle are anxious about you? Have you thought about what might happen if you blacked out like that when you were alone?’
Of course she had; almost constantly since being admitted to hospital; and that was one of the main reasons she had agreed to marry him. It was unfair to expect her aunt and uncle to give up their normal routine simply to be with her twenty-four hours a day, and that was what the doctor had warned her was necessary,
especially in these early crucial weeks. But Saul was wealthy enough to provide round the clock care—something neither she nor her aunt and uncle could afford—and, for the sake of her child, she knew she must accept his proposal.
‘Don’t nag me, Saul,’ she heard herself saying breathlessly. ‘I really can’t take it at the moment. You’ve got what you wanted; I’ve agreed to marry you. Now please take me home.’
Without another word he turned the car round and drove back to the Dower House.
Of course, he insisted on coming in with her, and, of course, he had to tell her aunt and uncle what had happened. Her aunt made no attempt to hide her delight, although her uncle was more restrained, more anxiously aware that she looked both drained and ill.
‘You’ll stay here until we can be married,’ Saul told Lucy before he left. ‘I’ll also arrange for a nurse to stay, to keep an eye on you.’ He saw her expression and added curtly. ‘Don’t argue with me, Lucy, it isn’t good for you. And if you won’t think of yourself and our child,’ his mouth tightened a little over the words, ‘then think of your aunt. It isn’t fair to expect her to keep an eye on you twenty-four hours a day, and that’s what you need right now.’
She was too exhausted to argue. It was far simpler to give in, to allow her aunt to guide her upstairs and help her into bed. To let sleep claim her and open up an escape route from reality. Saul had taken charge and for once in her life she did not have the strength to object to someone else making her decisions for her.
At the back of her mind lurked the suspicion that this was after all what she wanted. She had wanted to marry Saul all along and, despite discovering that he didn’t love her, that desire was still there, and that was partially why she was giving in so easily. Of course she dismissed the thought. The reason she was marrying Saul was because she was being pressured into it, as much by her own fear for the safety of her baby as by her relatives and Saul himself.
CHAPTER NINE
THEY were married very quietly a week later in the small village church. Her aunt and uncle, and Fanny, Tom and the children were their only witnesses.
The only two people who seemed unaware of the undercurrents surrounding the ceremony were Oliver and Tara. The only blot on Tara’s blissful delight was the fact that Lucy was not getting married in a traditional white dress and would not therefore require a bridesmaid.
In fact Lucy wore a soft pink silk suit that her aunt bought in London for her; she was too exhausted and emotionally shattered herself to care what she wore.
‘At least Neville has had the grace to stay away,’ Saul commented curtly as they left the church. ‘Or was he motivated more by cowardice than compassion?’
Lucy pressed her lips together, not deigning to answer him. If it pleased him to taunt her about Neville, then let him. It was better by far that he should believe she loved her cousin than that he should guess the truth.
The excuse Saul gave for his parents’ non-attendance at the wedding was that his stepfather was still unwell. Lucy hadn’t even asked him if his mother knew of their marriage.
In the days leading up to the wedding she had decided that the only way she could cope with their marriage was for her to distance herself from Saul as much as she could, and that meant not asking him any questions that were in the least personal.
After the ceremony she had to endure the ordeal of the small reception her aunt and uncle had arranged at a local hotel. Her aunt had been shocked by Lucy’s suggestion that it was unnecessary, and it was true that although Fanny had glanced rather speculatively at her once or twice, everyone else did seem to be enjoying themselves.
They were due to fly to Florida in the morning. His business responsibilities meant that they would have to live in the States, Saul had told Fanny in response to her surprise.
Lucy shivered faintly, anticipating the loneliness of her new life so far away from everyone she knew. It was true that Saul’s mother was her aunt, but that did not alter the fact that they were complete strangers to one another. Would Saul’s mother welcome her as a wife for her son? And how would she feel when she discovered that she was carrying Saul’s child? Lucy’s chin tilted firmly. That was something over which she was determined to allow no deceit. If Saul did not choose to tell his mother that she was pregnant, then she would.
* * *
‘If those tears are for Summers, you’re wasting them.’
The cold incisive voice against her ear made Lucy sit up straighter in her seat, her head turned defiantly towards the small window of the jumbo jet.
They had been airborne for about twenty minutes now, and she felt so battered and numbed by the speed of recent events that even now she could barely comprehend that she was on her way to a new life in a new country.
Fanny, Tom, the two children, and her aunt and uncle had all come to the airport to see them off, and strangely she had managed to remain dry-eyed during that ordeal, pinning a bright smile to a mouth that seemed permanently stretched in false gaiety. She had hugged and kissed Tara, promised Oliver that she would write to him, suffered Fanny’s tearful embrace with perfect calm and equanimity; but now, when she was virtually alone with Saul, with no means of hiding her panic and despair from him, her self-control had chosen to desert her, causing tears of shock and misery to slide slowly from her eyes.
‘Here.’
The handkerchief he passed her was soft and white, his gesture so much at odds with his harshly derisive tone that she frowned at the square of white cotton he was handing her for several seconds before reaching out to take it from him.
Their fingers touched, the oddest sensation flowing through her body from that point of contact. Hot and breathless, she told herself she was simply suffering the effects of the pressurised cabin. As she dried her damp face she became aware that the handkerchief smelled faintly of Saul’s cologne. Her hand started to shake, her breath trapped in her lungs as he suddenly leaned across her.
For a second their eyes met: hers confused and wary, his coolly grey and remote, and then she realised that he was simply releasing her seatbelt for her. For a moment as he leaned towards her she had actually thought…
Her cheeks scarlet with mortification, she rolled his handkerchief up into a ball and turned away from him. He had guessed that she thought he was going to kiss her? Why on earth had she thought that? Since he had announced that they were to marry he had made no attempt to touch her in any way at all. She knew how he felt about her and yet here she was quivering with nerves and tension simply because she had quite erroneously thought she glimpsed a hot spark of desire in his eyes.
If he knew, no doubt his contempt would crucify her. By rights she ought to loathe the very thought of him touching her when she knew how little he wanted her, but when were emotions ever governed by logic? Right now there was nothing she wanted more than for him to open his arms to her and to settle her aching head against his shoulder. She ached for the security of his arms round her, protecting her from all her fears and dreads of this new life he was taking her to.
If he really had been taking her home as his new bride she would have been deluging him with questions now, demanding to know as much as he could tell her about the life they would live together. As it was…
‘I realise you haven’t the slightest interest in either me or my family.’ The harshly cynical voice drew her attention, her eyes fastening on his as Saul continued curtly, ‘But I suggest you find a way of manufacturing some before we arrive in Florida, otherwise my mother is going to be extremely suspicious.’
‘You could always tell her the truth.’
She saw him frown. ‘She has enough to worry about with my stepfather’s health, without me giving her more problems. As far as my parents are concerned, Lucy, our marriage is a perfectly normal one, entered into for all the normal reasons, and I intend that they shall go on thinking that.’
Briefly Lucy envied his mother. He must love her an awful lot to want to protect her from the reality of their m
arriage. If she had a son, would he love her with the same intensity?
‘Surely they’ll be surprised that we… that we got married so quickly and…’
‘Not really; they know… They know you’re carrying my child,’ he told her calmly, and yet as he looked away from her Lucy felt sure that he had been about to say something else. Knowing that there was little point in questioning him about it she said instead, ‘I suppose they were very shocked.’
‘Surprised rather than shocked.’
He gave her a mocking smile as he felt her turn slightly towards him in query.
‘My mother is a woman of the world, Lucy, and I’m not a boy any more. Although she’s hardly likely to say so, I feel sure that she will be rather surprised that I was careless enough to allow such a situation to arise.’
One eyebrow rose as he looked at her, watching the tide of colour burn up under her skin.
‘Never mind,’ he taunted softly. ‘If she sees you blushing like that, no doubt she’ll simply assume I got carried away on a fatal tide of passion.’
Of course Saul must have been involved with other women and of course his mother would know that he did not live like a monk, but would she ever believe that Saul, so controlled, could have behaved in such a reckless way?
All brides must dread meeting an unknown mother-in-law, Lucy reflected, but in her case her anxiety was intensified by the fact that Saul’s mother was also her aunt, and in addition there was a history of family enmity between her father and his sister. In the circumstances she could hardly expect Saul’s mother to welcome her with open arms.
She shivered.
‘Are you feeling all right?’
Saul sounded curt, probably dreading the embarrassment of calling a stewardess over to her, Lucy thought, remembering how angry her father used to get with her when she was a child if she did anything to call attention to herself.