Perchance to Marry

by Celine Conway

  Marcus poured wine, very little for his grandmother but the usual generous amount for the guests. He put Sally’s glass into her hand, bent a most handsome smiling profile towards Dona Inez and said,

  “We will drink to you, madrecita. There is nothing I have wanted more than to see you in your own chair, among us. To your health.”

  Dona Inez accepted this with a smile on her little aged bird’s face. When everyone had echoed Marcus’s sentiment and sipped, she nodded with satisfaction. “And now we old ones will drink to the young,” she said. “To Marcus and his betrothed—their future.”

  When the toast had been drunk she let Marcus take her glass and her little claws hooked themselves together as they always did when she had a pronouncement to make. “This Carlos has allowed me one hour in this room, and already half of that time has gone. So we must approach our happy business, and I will leave you to celebrate with other guests who will be arriving later.” She paused, took a breath and, looking at Marcus, added quietly, “I must thank you from the heart for your patience during the past weeks. For me, you have postponed the enjoyment of your fiancée. And you, my clear Sally, have been gentle and willing to wait till the old woman is well enough for the great occasion.”

  “You’re talking a great deal too much,” Marcus said mildly. “Don Antonio will be here for three days. Why get everything said at once?”

  “Because,” the dark eyes flashed their unquenchable fire, “I will have you miss nothing of the decorum that should attend your betrothal. Where is Mrs. Sheppard?”

  “She’s out,” said Sally quickly. “If she’d known...”

  “It does not matter. I suspect that your mother has small use for the customs of the del Moscados. However, to us they mean much, and in time they will mean a great deal to you also. Come and stand close to me. You too, Marcus.”

  He took his time, asked carelessly, “Why the melodrama? You’ve done enough for one evening.”

  “Valgame Dios!” she said fiercely, and glared round at her relatives. “You did well to have no Englishmen in your families. They have iron instead of marrow in their bones.”

  Carlos bent and patted her shoulder. “Marcus is right, tia mia. You are talking too much on this first occasion downstairs. Tomorrow...”

  ‘Tomorrow I shall be too tired to come down. Very well, let us get to business.” Her hands were grasping a small black sequinned bag which had been indistinguishable on her lap. She opened it, spoke thinly but clearly to the people grouped round her. “Some days ago Marcus and I discussed the betrothal rings and I persuaded him to make his choice of the family jewels. He selected the square emerald which was my mother’s and a signet ring which belonged to his English grandfather.” The voice quavered. “This is my happiest moment. Take the rings, Marcus.”

  He must have realized moments ago what was happening. Sally herself had half guessed it, but even so the shock was like a bludgeon. She felt numb and trapped. Her lips must have been parted, tensely, for a long minute; they now felt cold and dry and lifeless.

  Then Dona Inez spoke again. “My dear, you will change the little ring I gave you to the other hand. Now, Marcus.” Afterwards Sally wondered if she could have acted in some way to prevent the scene going any further, and she decided that she had had no alternative but to accept the signet ring and give Marcus her left hand. She never remembered slipping the heavy gold ring on to Marcus’s finger, and even that second in which he had gently pushed the emerald down over her knuckle seemed to pass without her being aware of it. She heard him say something in Spanish to Dona Inez, felt his light salute on each cheek which the others no doubt expected, and automatically bent for the old senora’s kiss.

  “So,” said Dona Inez shakily. “It is done, and I shall rest the better for knowing it.” She looked up at them both as they stood close to her, “You two must be happy—not worry over the old grandmother who has already lived too long. I am happier than I have been for very many years. Now, you will go outside, while I suffer the indignity of being carried to my bed.”

  Marcus smiled at her with a tenderness that Sally found painful. “I don’t know how you got down here, but I’m going to take you up myself. Come, madrecita.”

  The tiny figure was so light that he gathered her up easily. She was smiling tiredly but with infinite pride as she nodded goodnight and closed her eyes. Marcus bore her from the room, with Carlos close behind him.

  In the sala there was an awkward spell of silence. Then, courteously, one of the women begged Sally to seat herself and tell them how she felt about living in San Palos. But before she had spoken more than a dozen words the first of the dinner guests arrived and she was in the unusual position of having to make the introductions. Nearly twenty minutes passed before she could slip outside into the cloistered terrace that edged the courtyard for a breathing space.

  It was almost dark and a star or two already winked above the trees. Sally clasped her fingers and felt the two rings: the delicate sapphire and the heavy, diamond-circled emerald. Neither ring was hers by right; only the woman Marcus loved should wear them—with a brimming gladness and pride.

  She moved along in the dimness, through an archway into the small patio below the senora’s bedroom. There she stopped and looked up. There was a small soft light in the room at the top of the steps and for some time she stared at that illumined french window without moving. Someone appeared on the balcony: Katarina.

  The woman saw her and came down. The yellow face looked a little ghastly in the heavy dusk, but there was a smile on the brown lips and her tones sounded deliberate and sincere.

  “I was in the senora’s confidence, senorita, and helped to take her down to the sala. May I offer my felicitations?”

  “Thank you, Katarina. Is she all right—Dona Inez?”

  “Tired, that is all. But she was determined, and Dr. Suarez felt it would do more harm to deny her what she wanted so much. I am sure you and Don Marcus are going to be most happy here. I hope it for you; believe that.”

  Why did she harp on it? Sally wondered dispiritedly, but not for long. Perhaps she heard doubts in other people’s voices because stronger doubts were so deeply embedded within herself.

  “You’re very kind, Katarina.”

  “May I suggest something—that you take off the small ring given by the senora? For tonight, only the engagement ring, no?”

  “I was going to do that. I’m going up to my room the back way.” And she nodded and left the senora’s companion.

  In her room, Sally was tempted to change the black lace frock for something brighter, but she felt too peculiar inside herself to make the decision. She tidied her hair, used a compact, slipped the small ring into a drawer and switched off the light. But before going below she stepped out on to the balcony. It was quite dark now and a breeze was moving the tops of the palms and magnolias. Below the courtyard a garden light illumined the tops of the guests’ cars and down the drive another post shed light across the drive. Someone was walking quickly down the drive towards the gate. Josef? It looked like him, but she knew he hadn’t been invited this evening. Perhaps he had been up to beg something from Marcus.

  Again the tips of her fingers sought the unfamiliar ring, and she became aware of a raw ache in her throat. She hadn’t had to decide after all; it had been decided for her. She was engaged to Marcus, might even marry him. Not because of Dona Inez but because all this anguish, and all the pain of the future, would be easier to endure than cutting adrift and dying, emotionally.

  She crossed the bedroom and went out into the ample light of the corridor. Viola was emerging from her own room, lovely in pastel pink brocade with a broad black collar, and carrying a slinky fur stole over her arm. She stopped as Sally reached her, looked at her unsmilingly and said,

  “I’ve heard all about it. I’m glad for you, darling, but I do think it was rather dictatorial of the old woman. After all, it’s the girl’s parents who do the honors, not the man’s grandmother. Show
me the ring.” She examined it and looked rather startled. “It must be worth thousands! Does it feel strange—wearing something so valuable?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “Dona Inez might have made sure that I’d be in.”

  “I think it depended on Carlos’s being here. It was a complete surprise to me.”

  “And to Marcus?”

  “Yes. Please don’t make any remarks about it.”

  “I shan’t. But how do you think I feel—going out to someone else’s anniversary party when I ought to be here at your celebration?”

  “You and the Captain could dine here—send an apology.”

  “We’ll do nothing of the sort. I’ll give my own party for you and Marcus later on—and if I can avoid it, it won’t be here at Las Vinas!”

  “There’s really nothing to be upset about. The Senora did what she felt she had to do because she felt capable of it this evening.”

  “She’s an autocratic old eagle,” said Viola crossly. “She knows I can’t afford to give you the sort of wedding these del Moscados will expect, and she’s decided that if they’re footing the bill they’ll also do things according to their own traditions. I’m sure Marcus will see that it’s most unfair.” It was only then that she bothered to take a good look at Sally’s face. “You look dreadful—-wearing black, too! If you’d only waited a day or two those outfits would have arrived from Barcelona. She’s a selfish old tyrant, and if...”

  “She’s old and worn out,” said Sally unsteadily, “and there’s nothing you can do now it’s over.”

  “No, I suppose not.” Viola shrugged and the light habitual smile came back to her lips. “If you’re satisfied, darling, why should I be distressed? I’m sure you’d much rather have had Marcus to yourself while you were exchanging rings—what a barbarous custom, by the way!—but perhaps you were fortunate in having so few to witness the event. Nothing’s altered, really, is it? It’s just that you have a much more expensive ring and Marcus is wearing something to show he’s hooked.” She looked at her diamond-framed watch. “I must go. Coming down?” Together they descended the staircase, and in the hall they were met by Captain Northwick, who looked most distinguished in a light dinner jacket. He bowed, and then Marcus was there.

  “Hallo,” he said. “Can’t we persuade yon to stay in for dinner and go along to your party afterwards?”

  Decisively, Viola shook her head. The pale lavender rinse had given way to pastel blue, and in the pink frock she looked pretty and doll-like, not a day over thirty-five. She raised a small white finger at Marcus.

  “I’m a wee bit vexed over what’s happening this evening. Personally, I’ve taken it that you two were officially engaged all the time—otherwise I couldn’t have accepted your hospitality for so long, could I? But I do feel that when you were ready to call it official in your family you should have consulted me, so that I could have arranged a celebration elsewhere this evening. Your grandmother didn’t consider me at all.”

  Marcus said easily, “It crept up on us, I’m afraid. Dona Inez suddenly felt up to tackling the thing, and she took Katarina and Carlos into her confidence—but no one else. She’s too old to be judged, Viola.”

  “She did ask for you,” said Sally in low tones to her mother. “You were out.”

  Slightly mollified, Viola patted her arm. Then she looked up at Marcus. “I’d better give you a motherly kiss, hadn’t I? You know, I’ve just discovered that I couldn’t possibly live here after your marriage. A huge son-in-law and grandchildren would wither me up in no time!”

  She planted her small kiss and as an afterthought kissed Sally also. Then, with the Captain, she made her exit Marcus said quietly, “Feel all right?”

  “Perfectly,” answered Sally evenly.

  “You looked terribly frightened in there, earlier. You mustn’t be frightened.”

  “It was the shock.”

  “I didn’t want anything like that to happen. I wanted you to tell me yourself—not to be forced into it.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “On the whole, though, it may be as well things went the way they did.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “I knew you’d gone upstairs. I thought you might have changed your dress.”

  “Do you want me to?” she asked woodenly.

  “Not now, it’s too late. Come into the study for a minute.”

  She went with him into the room she seldom entered. The study was cosily lined with books and a couple of armchairs flanked the small ornate fireplace. From the drawer of the desk which stood close to the window Marcus took a flat black case,. Sally looked at it and steeled herself. Marcus locked the drawer again and faced her.

  “In our family we don’t buy new engagement rings. It’s thought that one of the family jewels has more meaning, more value. So instead I’ve bought you an engagement gift. It will probably look better with black than with any other color.” He snapped open the case and showed her a collar of alternate pearls and diamonds. “Like it?”

  “It’s very beautiful,” she said, without emotion.

  “Then let’s put it on, shall we?”

  She turned obediently, but as his fingers touched her neck she shivered. Perhaps it was involuntarily that his fingers closed over her shoulder and gripped; certainly there was anger in the grip. With her head bent she waited for some swift exclamation from him, some eruption of the sudden violence she felt in his fingers. But he apparently took as firm a grasp on himself. His hand turned her and dropped to his side.

  He appraised her coolly, her shoulders, the lovely thing about her slim white neck. “It’s what the dress needs,” he said. “They’re waiting for us. We’d better join them.”

  A minute later Sally was entering the sala for the second time that evening, but this time she consciously kept her head high and did her utmost to look as sophisticated as the magnificent necklet and emerald ring she wore. But inside she was cold and scared.

  On the whole the evening was not much different from other evenings at Las Vinas. The old uncle and his friends were travel-weary and excused themselves straight after dinner. The others chatted and drank, strolled outside and chatted and drank again. Towards midnight they straggled down the steps to their cars. Marcus accompanied them and Sally, after hesitating, went up to her room.

  As she undressed there was a pain behind her eyes and a slackness in her limbs. She paused in the act of turning down the bed and ran her fingers through her short pale hair. How long would it be before she believed in the engagement? Did it really exist, that bond, or was it just another patch of unreality she had to live through? It had been a solemn moment down there, when Marcus had murmured something in Spanish and pressed the ring on to her finger, but try as she would she could not see herself married to him. The collaret—she looked at it as it lay on the dressing table—had been another piece of unreality. Such things weren’t available on San Palos, so he must have bought it some time ago—perhaps in London, for Nadine Carmody. And there it had lain, nice and handy for presenting to the girl he had decided would do.

  What in the world had happened to her spirit? she wondered. Being in love should have made her brave, not craven. But she had had too much to contend with; the weight of circumstances had smothered her and left her feeling as she felt now—not much more than half conscious and thoroughly enmeshed.

  She stood staring at the wall beyond the bed, a cheerless churning in her head, her hands along the sides of her small, pale face. She hardly heard the rap at the door and did not look round until whoever it was had entered. She gazed at Marcus blankly, from shadowed wood-violet eyes. In printed silk pyjamas, her hair tousled from her fingers and her face washed free of make-up, she looked small and appealing; even more so when she made an obvious effort to straighten up and appear normal.

  He placed a glass of milk on the bedside table. “You ate very little at dinner, and I thought you’d better have this with a couple of aspirins.” He paused. “You’re not to worry about all th
is, Sally. Get into bed and go to sleep.”

  She spoke with some difficulty. “Marcus, I’m sorry I was a bit of an idiot this evening.”

  “You weren’t an idiot. It was too much for you, and I was in the damnable position of being unable to do anything about it. But there’s just one thing I’ve got to mention,” he said, his voice tightening. “Don’t shrink from me. For Dona Inez I can stand a good deal, but I’d better warn you that physical shrinking on your part might easily make me forget any promise I’ve made you. We’re engaged, and when you’re ready for it, we’ll get married. I particularly wanted you to know tonight that you mean a lot to me.”

  She moistened her lips. “But nothing can alter the fact that the engagement was accidental, can it? If it had been some other girl with her mother on the ‘Bellesta’...”

  “No other girl and her mother would have been such babes adrift in Barcelona,” said Marcus, with a faint smile.

  “No, I suppose not. If you hadn’t brought us to San Palos this situation would never have arisen. I did feel we owed you whatever I could do at the beginning, but ... but it got beyond me.”

  “When I suggested we turn the engagement into a genuine one?”

  She frowned down at the carpet. Her face looked suddenly thin and fine-drawn. “You see, I ... I do believe in the love match, and I’m afraid I always will.”

  His tones became harsh. “There are a few things you’re too young and innocent to have come up against yet. As I’ve said before, if you’d had an affair you’d view this whole thing differently. As you haven’t, you feel you’ve missed something tremendous—some painfully sweet passion that would inevitably have drawn you into an idyllic marriage. You’re capable of such love, Sally. I’m sure of that. What you’re not aware of is that sometimes you have to choose your partner and let an engagement condition you for a good marriage. If you’ll let yourself, you can be very happy almost at once.”