by Jane Corrie
CHAPTER EIGHT
To Melanie's relief, Celia was included in the next morning's lesson, and it was she who kept correcting her stroke action under the watchful eye of Julian.
Within a few days, Melanie was able to swim the length of the pool accompanied by Celia, who timed her stroke to the much slower Melanie's, and declared that it wouldn't be long before they would be racing each other the length of the pool.
During this period, most of Melanie's fears where Julian were concerned had faded away, and she managed to convince herself that she had let her imagination run away with her, even to the extent of finding herself actually seeking his approbation in her prowess as much as Celia had done.
For the first time since their arrival at the villa, she began to enjoy herself, and it would never have crossed her mind that she was slowly but surely becoming enmeshed deeper and deeper into the very situation she had been so determined to avoid.
A week later, Julian announced that they would be leaving at the end of the week for the UK. Melanie, like Celia, felt a slight regret that such a lovely holiday had come to an end, but they had had three weeks of sunshine, and even her pale features now shone with a healthy tan.
It was only on the plane journey home that Melanie began slowly to come back to reality. Not surprisingly, it was the thought of contacting her Aunt Alice again soon after they had settled back at Oaklands that
started off an uncomfortable trend of thought.
She had written her a short letter to the effect that she had found employment, and that it was a living-in position, and that she was off with her employer and charge on holiday. Then she had posted a card to her shortly after thay had arrived in the Bahamas, and said she would contact her again when she got back.
Her frown deepened as she studied this problem. What on earth could she say to her now? She had made no mention of her marriage. How could she? How could she possibly have written a letter to her aunt that went something on the lines, 'Dear Aunt Alice, I have married my boss. It was very sudden, but don't worry, it wasn't a real marriage, and I expect it will be annulled before the end of the year.'
She drew a swift inward breath. There was only one answer—simply to write and tell her that she was back in the UK and would keep in touch with her.
At this point, she felt a light touch on her arm, which gave her quite a start in spite of the gentleness of the touch. She came back from her worries to meet the grey, enquiring gaze of Julian.
'What's wrong?' he asked quietly.
Melanie had forgotten how quick he was to sense her moods, and glanced towards Celia, who was obligingly asleep on the opposite seat. 'I was just thinking about my aunt,' she said, and left it at that.
'She's welcome to pay us a visit any time,' said Julian.
Melanie stared back at him. 'I don't think that would be a very good idea,'she replied in a low voice.
Julian's autocratic brows rose. 'I fail to see why not,' he argued reasonably. 'She'll be anxious, no doubt, to meet her niece's husband, and naturally I shall be interested to meet my wife's only relation.'
Melanie's eyes widened at this cool assessment of the situation, and all the fears that she had pushed to the back of her mind came stampeding back. 'You're not my husband,' she said in a low, furious voice, 'and I'm not your wife, and you know it. It's purely a business arrangement, and I'm certainly not going to put myself in the position of having to explain that to my aunt. She's one of the old school, and has definite views on propriety. I'm very fond of her,' she added icily. 'As far as she's concerned, I have a good job, and that's all she's going to know,' she ended flatly.
There was a tautness around Julian's firm mouth, that suggested that he was not amused; in fact, he was very angry indeed. 'I shall send her an invitation to visit Oaklands,' he announced grandly, as if Melanie hadn't spoken.
Melanie's eyes sparked shoots of fire as she struggled to compose herself. 'So you'll explain everything, will you ?' she got out.
`I don't see what there is to explain, as you put it,' he replied calmly. 'These things happen. You're not the first young lady to marry her boss, and you won't be the last,' he added lightly.
Melanie was too choked to give this bland statement the attention it warranted. All she could manage was a stuttered, 'You..I—
Julian patted her shoulder in a gesture that might have been used to calm an hysterical child. 'There, there,' he said soothingly. 'You just think about it. You're crossing your bridges before you come to them, you know.'
They weren't bridges, not in Melanie's opinion, they were deep treacherous chasms, and she had no chance of avoiding them; the odds were too heavily stacked against her!
They landed at Heathrow in glorious sunshine, for it was July, but the hot, sticky atmosphere that pervaded the airport with its scurrying passengers on their outward or inward journeys made the beautiful island they had left a day ago seem aeons away in time.
The car was awaiting them outside the airport precincts, and Jenks was politely enquiring after his employer's health and hoping that they had enjoyed their holiday. After receiving affirmation of this, he went on to say in his smooth, unobtrusive voice that all was well at Oaklands, and that Amy had just got herself engaged to Johnson, the head gardener's lad.
All this Melanie heard, but for all the attention she paid to this innocuous exchange of news, she might still have been on the plane, for her thoughts were centred on that conversation she had had with Julian regarding her aunt.
If Julian said he would invite Aunt Alice to Oaklands, then he would do just that. All she could hope for was time to work out some sort of a solution. Talk to him, plead with him to see things from her point of view, so that when her aunt did visit them she would find her niece carrying out her duties as a companion to his daughter, and nothing more.
On recalling the last few hectic hours before they had left for the Caribbean, Melanie almost winced as she remembered the way the staff had not only accepted her marriage to Julian, but heartily endorsed it!
If confirmation was needed on this, she had only to recall Jenks's deferential treatment on the seating arrangements in the car. Julian, as before, had sat next to his chauffeur after watching his family seated, and it should have been Celia who was attended first, but
it had been Melanie who was given first choice of position.
How could she hope to keep the truth from her aunt with the staff addressing her either as Madam or, worse still, Mrs Cridell?
Melanie swallowed. Somehow she had to dissuade Julian from any idea of inviting her aunt down to Oaklands, and if that didn't work, get hold of the invitation. She knew the post was left for one of the gardener's boys to take down to the postbox in the lane a mile away, and she would have to keep a watching brief on all outgoing mail.
Her misery deepened. It was an impossible task. All her schemes would come to nothing should he post the invitation in London from his office. Supposing he decided to visit her aunt instead of sending her an invitation? Melanie's quick catch of breath at this disturbing thought caught Celia's attention, and she took her gaze off the passing scenery to look back at Melanie. Sensing the look, Melanie quickly feigned sleep.
'Melanie's suffering from jet lag, Dad,' Celia commented.
`It's to be expected,' replied her father, twisting round to look at Melanie whose eyes remained tightly shut. 'In time, she'll become as used as you and I have come to be to readjusting to the time lag.'
Melanie almost gave herself away at this point, and only just prevented herself from grimacing at this bold statement, for it underlined everything that he had said about the future, and that he had no intention of letting her go.
Back at Oaklands, life seemed even more removed from reality for Melanie, who instantly found herself being addressed as 'Madam' by the staff, not in any servile attitude, but in respect for her position and, it
appeared, a genuine wish to help her maintain it.
That this was in accordanc
e with Julian's orders Melanie was in no doubt, but there were ways, she knew, in which such orders could be countermanded by the staff in many small ways without fear of dismissal. But she encountered none of this, and it only increased her fears for the future.
It was as if there was one big conspiracy, she thought wearily as she slipped away to her room two days after their return. She was still the sacrificial goat, now being fattened up for the sacrifice. She winced at this thought. Couldn't they see that she was entitled to a life of her own choosing? They had no right to push her into a pigeonhole labelled 'Mrs Julian Cridell'.
Had no one, for one moment in time, thought about her feelings in the matter? She thought of Celia, now renewing her acquaintance with Popsie in the paddock, and stirred restlessly. Certainly not Celia. Celia considered her father irresistible to the opposite sex, and by the evidence of her own eyes during their stay on the island, Melanie could hardly blame her for taking that view. No doubt the servants were of the same mind, she thought sourly, recalling little Amy's almost fatuous expression when serving at the table when Julian was present at the meal—and she was a newly engaged girl, who should have eyes for no one but her sweetheart!
The same could be said of Mrs Soames, who quite plainly would do anything for the master, and Melanie was sure he could do no wrong in her eyes.
Her dispassionate glance went around her small sitting-room; at least she could be thankful that she still had her private quarters, but even these had been encroached upon by Julian since their arrival back at
Oaklands under the flimsy excuse of wanting to discuss a dinner party that he wanted to give to a few neighbours of his, at whose table he had dined several times but whose hospitality he had never reciprocated.
Thinking about it afterwards, it did occur to Melanie that there was a pertinent reason for the occasion, and that was to introduce her to the local gentry, with whom, she thought depressingly, she would have nothing in common.
She had tried to convey this to Julian at the time, but there had been no 'discussion' as Julian had termed it. That had only been an excuse for his intrusion into her private quarters. Julian didn't discuss things with her. He simply told her, and she was expected to fall into line with his plans.
Her hopes of being excused attendance were crushed by Julian's sharp retort. 'Nonsense. Of course you must attend. I'm inviting Andrew Misting and Anna. I had word from him this morning that they've just bought a property thirty miles away, and will, no doubt, be visiting us as soon as they've settled in.'
There was no answer to that, Melanie thought dully, and no chance of her crying off.
Her fingers clenched a fold in her pleated skirt; she might just as well give in. No matter what, she wasn't going to be allowed to win.
Any day now she would receive a request from Julian for her aunt's address. Perhaps she would be invited to the dinner party, too? Melanie closed her eyes; that would undoubtedly include the leering Arthur Makin.
In her mind's eye she envisaged the gathering. She had no fears about her aunt feeling out of her depth among the county élite. As the headmistress of a select private girls' school before her retirement, she would
be more at home in such company than Melanie herself was. No, Melanie had no worries on that score, but she had plenty on another. Aunt Alice might have been taken in by the plausible Arthur Makin, but she wouldn't be taken in where Melanie's marriage was concerned, and it wouldn't take her long to realise that there was something decidedly odd about the arrangements.
The only thing she could do, Melanie thought, was to come clean about everything. Her aunt would be shocked that such an agreement had been entered into, but once that part of it was over, Melanie felt that she would accept the facts as they were, and there would be no further need for evasiveness on her part. Of one thing she was determined, only her aunt would receive this confidence, so somehow she would have to work things so that she got her on her own, for the purpose of enlightening her.
She sighed deeply. As Julian had once said, she was probably crossing her bridges before she came to them, and in all probability he wouldn't include her aunt in the gathering, but would settle for an afternoon visit, to include tea.
She brightened a little at this point. There was less chance of her aunt spotting anything unusual in an afternoon visit. Julian's manners were impeccable, one could hardly expect a sophisticated man of his age to act the doting lover around the tea-table.
This thought should have amused her, and normally it would have done, but it only depressed her further. It wasn't that she wanted Julian to act the doting lover. Heaven forbid ! But since their return from their holiday, he had seemed to move further away from her, as if his attention to her on the island had been simply a way of entertaining himself, and he must
since have congratulated himself on the way things turned out, for Melanie might well have fallen under his spell, and given in to that insidious bombardment of her will.
She took a deep breath. Thank goodness for sanity, for goodness only knew where such a step would have led them, and by now he would be cursing himself for his own lapse of sense.
Melanie settled herself on the window seat, and glanced out at the panoramic view in front of her, and beyond to the woods surrounding the property. A deep frown settled on her brow. She hadn't been strictly fair in putting the present state of affairs down to Julian, for it was she who had instigated the change in their relationship.
Start as you mean to go on had been her tenet, and right from the beginning of her life as 'Mrs Cridell', she had shown a definite preference for her own company as and when circumstances permitted. They permitted now with Celia in the paddock, and Julian, after Melanie had politely excused herself, having made off to his study to catch up on his business affairs.
As yet there had been no sign of Julian returning to work in the City, but Melanie felt that it was only a matter of time before he would be back to his old routine; he was too immersed in the world of finance to stay away for long. Melanie was annoyed that this hoped-for solution to one of her problems still showed no sign of taking place by the time a fortnight had elapsed since their return, and apart from spending the morning in his study, he began to look ominously as if he had taken Andrew Misting's advice on early retirement.
As long as Celia was still at home—the school term
did not start until September—Melanie managed to arrange things that she didn't have to spend much time in Julian's company, slipping away to her own quarters When Celia chose to go down to the paddock in the afternoon, the mornings being spent in the old nursery that now did duty as a schoolroom.
If Julian was backsliding where work was concerned, so was Melanie, over that all-important letter to her aunt.
She had made several attempts to write to her, but had always landed up with a pile of unfinished letters in her waste basket. In her inner heart she hoped that some miracle would relieve her of the necessity of involving her aunt in this uncommendable state of affairs.
By the end of three weeks, Melanie felt that things simply could not go on as they were. Julian's good nature seemed to have deserted him, much to Celia's surprise, and Melanie suspected that he was now regretting the whole situation, but shied from actually discussing this with him, as he seemed more unapproachable as time went on. All she could do was to wait until he decided that enough was enough, and came to the sensible conclusion that her presence was no longer required at Oaklands.
The threatened dinner party was due to take place at the end of the week, and Melanie's depression deepened at the very thought. It would be a case of `Hello' and 'Goodbye' as far as her presence among the county élite was concerned, and she couldn't understand why Julian was going ahead with it. It would be more sensible to delay such a gathering until after she had made her departure, surely? If he hadn't bothered to entertain his neighbours for several years, a little longer wouldn't hurt.
It was at this point that, unfortunately for M
elanie, she recalled that the Mistings would be present, and she blinked at the realisation that the last time she had seen them she was supposed to be having a baby! She glanced down at her slender figure—well, one look and that myth would be dispelled. She sincerely hoped that neither of them would comment on the fact; it had been bad enough on the island, but should it leak out to the local gentry—Melanie drew in a swift breath: Julian would be absolutely furious. The only thing to do was to get Anna on her own, and say something about a false alarm.
By the time she went down to lunch with Celia the following day, Melanie's nerves were strung to breaking point.
There was a pile of letters beside Julian's plate that had been opened, as the mail had come that morning, but he brought the letters in for Melanie and Celia's perusal, for they were acceptances for the dinner party. Celia, idly going through them, suddenly exclaimed, 'Leonora's back ?' with such a look of pleasure that even Melanie's deep absorption in her troubles was put aside for a moment.
`She will be, by tomorrow,' replied Julian, his eyes resting thoughtfully on his daughter.
Celia turned impulsively to Melanie. 'You'll love Leonora,' she said. 'The trouble is, she spends such a lot of time abroad. It's her job, you see; she's an authority on art, and she's always being asked to value someone's old painting that's been found in their attic.'
Melanie nodded. 'It must be an interesting job,' she said.
`Not so interesting when it entails so much travel,' Julian said drily. 'But I rather gather from what she says in her letter that she's thinking of staying put for a while.'
Celia's smile widened. `So we'll be able to visit her, won't we, Dad?' she said happily. 'I'm sure she'll become good friends with Melanie.'
Julian's grey eyes rested on Melanie as he said quietly, 'Well, we'll have to see how it goes, won't we?'
She was startled by the tone of his voice. It was as if he was giving her an ultimatum—about what, she couldn't think, but what he probably meant was if Melanie was around that long!