Bond of Fate

by Jane Corrie

  Celia took her own interpretation. 'Of course they'll get on !' she replied firmly.

  In the schoolroom the following morning, it appeared that Celia's mind was not on work, but on Leonora Talbot's arrival back from her travels.

  Melanie knew that she ought to discourage this deviation from work on her pupil's part, but her curiosity was aroused. Whoever this Leonora was, it was plain that Celia was very fond of her, and Celia did not give her affection lightly, so although she didn't exactly encourage her to enlarge on the subject, she didn't discourage her either.

  `Do you remember that big white villa-looking place we pass before we turn up our drive?' Celia asked suddenly. 'Well, that's where Leonora lives. We can get through the wood at the end of the garden to it,' she added. 'Dad used to send me over there when he knew that Mother was on her way, to get me out of the firing line,' she added.

  In her mind's eye she conjured up an 'Auntie'-like personality, with a no-nonsense attitude, and who probably wore spectacles and good tweeds, and brogues, and who must be nearing retirement age from what Julian had said. In spite of Celia's musings

  on a future happy relationship between them, Melanie doubted this; she could hardly see herself being accepted as a suitable wife for Julian Cridell. Perhaps that had been what Julian had meant by that cryptic statement of his.

  `We could go over there later,' Celia said. 'She's probably home by now.'

  'I don't think that's a very good idea,' said Melanie firmly. `She'll be tired, Celia, especially if she's just come back from abroad. I'd give her a few days to settle in first. You'll see her at the dinner party tomorrow evening, won't you?' she added.

  Celia pulled a face. `Yes, but only for a few minutes. You know what Dad's like and how strict he is, and he won't let me stay up for that.'

  `Well, there's always the next day,' Melanie pointed out reasonably. If she's retiring now, you'll have plenty of opportunity to see her.'

  Celia gave Melanie an odd look, her head, framed by its bright halo of golden hair, held on one side. `You talk as if Leonora were old,' she said. 'She's only a few years older than you,' she added, with a mischievous look.

  Melanie raised her brows at this. `I'm only going by what your father said about her thinking of giving up her job,' she replied calmly, though feeling a spurt of surprise at Celia's news.

  Celia shrugged. 'Oh, that. Well, she doesn't really need to work, but she's not the sort to sit around doing nothing. She learnt all about antiques from her father, who was also an expert on the subject.'

  `Oh,' was all Melanie could reply.

  Celia grinned at her. 'So, as I said, you'll get on with her. You are very like her, you know,' she added seriously.

  Melanie blinked. 'In what way?' she demanded.

  Celia took a while to sort out her thoughts. `Well ' she began. 'I don't mean in looks,' she added hastily. 'She's not at all the sort of person her looks suggest.' She frowned, and then shrugged. `You'll see what I mean when you meet her,' she ended, finally giving up the struggle.

  Melanie was back to the tweeds and brogues impression. The subject was then closed, and the school work started.

  The dinner party consisted of nine guests plus Melanie and Julian, and Melanie found herself consigned to stand beside Julian as they welcomed their guests, and having to withstand the polite and sometimes downright curious stares of Julian's neighbours.

  Her experience in the Bahamas should have eased this embarrassing task, but to her way of thinking, this was worse, for these people were not casual holiday-making friends of Julian's, but were on their home ground, fixed and immobile, as it were, and again, she felt a stab of resentment at Julian for dragging them into the charade.

  Andrew Misting and Anna were the first to arrive, Anna, as usual, looking as if she had just stepped off the cover of Vogue, in a salmon pink off-the-shoulder dress, that was somewhere in the three-figure price bracket. As Melanie welcomed her, it crossed her mind that she wouldn't be the only one to receive extra attention that evening, for, like herself, Anna was a newcomer to the scene, and for this Melanie was grateful.

  Melanie's dress of royal blue velvet, with a small pearl necklet at her throat as her only adornment, gave her a quiet authority that she was entirely unaware of,

  but Julian's quick approving nod at her appearance earlier had shown her that he was pleased with her choice.

  As each of the guests were introduced, Melanie tried hard to recall their names, Colonel and Mrs Hardwick she didn't think she would have any trouble in identifying. The Colonel was a big, bluff, red-faced man, who at first sighting seemed to bully his small, tired-looking wife. Then there was a Mr and Mrs Cornwall, both plump and prosperous-looking, Mr Cornwall being someone in the City, and a Mr Astley and his son, John, with apologies on behalf of his wife who was indisposed and unable to attend.

  That left only one guest to arrive, Leonora Talbot, and Melanie had been given strict instructions by Celia to tell her that they would be calling on her the next morning, if that was all right.

  Melanie was buttonholed by Anna as soon as the guests assembled in the drawing-room and were fortified with glasses of sherry. Julian was in conversation with her father and Mr Cornwall, with Mrs Cornwall and Mrs Hardwick making a beeline for Mr Astley, anxious to enquire about his wife's health, and on the fringe of the circle, John Astley, quite plainly hoping for a better acquaintance with Anna. His rather sanguine features had showed an eager, expectant look as soon as he had set eyes on her, and what he obviously thought was going to be a very dull dinner party had turned into an occasion.

  Anna's polite enquiry about Melanie's health did not at first ring a bell, and when it did, she had to quickly transfer her glance away from Anna under the pretext of placing her glass down on one of the occasional tables, and giving herself time to answer her query. `Oh, I'm fine, thank you,' she said evenly,

  `I'm afraid it was a false alarm,' and left it at that, her glance going over to Julian, in the middle of a business discussion, one part of her seeing how handsome he looked in his dark dinner suit, and the other part hoping fervently that Andrew Misting didn't take a page out of Anna's book ! She hated to think what Julian's reaction would be should he casually enquire 'When's the great day?' or something!

  `Oh, dear, I'm sorry,' Anna exclaimed. 'Still, you've plenty of time, haven't you?' and to Melanie's relief she changed the subject, and told her about the property her father had bought. It's what I've always thought a country property should be,' she said enthusiastically. 'I never thought Dad would settle down, but he's proved me wrong. He's like a boy with a sandcastle, having plans drawn up for alterations.'

  At this precise moment Leonora Talbot joined the party; the first Melanie knew of her arrival was Anna's low, `Wow!' as her eyes went to the door, and Melanie turned to see what had caused such an exclamation.

  Her eyes widened as they surveyed the vision—one could only call it a vision—of the woman who was now walking towards Julian, one beautifully tanned arm with long shapely fingers extended towards her host, her tan accentuated by the white Grecian-style dress with gold figuring at the collar, and as Anna's dress was in the three-figure bracket, Leonora Talbot's must have been in the four.

  Melanie's thoughts were in a whirl as she stared at the woman, and she almost gave an hysterical chuckle as she recalled her previous thoughts about Leonora. This woman wouldn't be seen dead in tweeds and brogues!

  Tor goodness' sake!' Anna exclaimed in a low voice

  as she watched Leonora go up on tiptoe to kiss Julian's cheek. 'Who is that? She makes me feel like a peasant!'

  Melanie didn't think there were many peasants around who would measure up to this description, but she did understand what Anna was getting at. This woman was sophistication with a capital S. Her white-blonde hair was swept up one side of her lovely classical features, and cascaded down the other. It was not a style that many women could have worn with such effect, she thought, as she replied, 'Leonora Talb
ot, our nearest neighbour. I've heard about her, but haven't met her yet. She's abroad a lot of the time, I'm told,' she added, as she saw that Julian was leading Leonora towards them.

  `I only hope for your sake that she's married,' said Anna in a low voice just before they joined them.

  `Melanie, I want you to meet a good friend of mine, and of Celia's, too. This is Leonora Talbot. Leonora, this is Melanie, my wife, and this is Anna Misting; you'll meet her father later. They've just become county residents,' he added, with a gleam of humour in his eyes.

  Leonora's eyes, brown with tawny flecks in them, studied Melanie. The look was not resentful in any way, but it was a measuring look, as if wondering how this little mouse of a companion had hooked her boss into marriage. At least, that was Melanie's interpretation of the quick but thorough study she had received.

  The rest of the evening went off smoothly enough, but Melanie, carrying out her duties of hostess and listening politely to the various remarks of her guests, found herself completely bemused by the appearance of Leonora Talbot, and, like Anna, wondered if she were married. Here, without a doubt, was the kind of

  woman Julian ought to have married, and this, added to the plain fact that Celia was very fond of Leonora, made it all the more bewildering for Melanie.

  She almost convinced herself that Leonora's husband was probably still abroad. The fact that Celia hadn't mentioned a husband didn't mean a thing, for it was inconceivable to Melanie that a beauty like Leonora could have sailed through life without some man making it his business to sweep her to the altar. Of course, there was such a thing as a career woman, she thought, but—that usually meant that there was someone in the background, who for certain reasons—Melanie felt like shaking her head.

  Her smile had now become a fixture and felt stiff, but she had to keep going, and managed to lend a sympathetic ear to Mrs Hardwick's almost apologetic grievance about the way some people could lap up the sun without looking like a boiled lobster, her gaze resting on Leonora, now deep in conversation with Julian, who at that precise moment threw back his dark head and laughed at something she had said.

  Melanie felt an unaccountable stab of pure jealousy, and was surprised at her reaction. Why should she care if Julian was enjoying the company of another woman? However, she quickly thrust this thought aside, and told Mrs Hardwick that she too was in the same league. 'It takes me ages to acquire a tan,' she said.

  `Such a pity,' Mrs Hardwick said, 'and she's such a nice person, you know.'

  Melanie blinked, not able to follow Mrs Hardwick's train of thought. 'I'm sorry ?'

  `Oh, of course, it's all been a bit quick, hasn't it?' Mrs Hardwick said, then hastily corrected herself, 'Oh, I didn't mean ' She hesitated, then plunged

  in. 'I don't suppose you do know much about Leonora, but it's common knowledge, and it will help you to understand her, I think,' she added. 'You see, she'd only been married for a year when she lost her husband. One of those terrible motorway pile-ups, you know. It was only providence that she wasn't with him at the time. Although she took it hard, as you can imagine.' She was silent for a moment, then said slowly, 'We did rather hope—' she broke off here, and laid an impulsive hand on Melanie's arm, 'but that's all water under the bridge now, isn't it?' she ended quickly, then started to talk about something else—anything, it seemed to the sensitive Melanie, to change the previous subject.

  CHAPTER NINE

  EVENTUALLY the evening came to a close. It had, it appeared, been a successful dinner party, from everyone else's point of view but Melanie's.

  As tired as she was, when she prepared for bed her mind was still on Mrs Hardwick's impromptu confidences about Leonora Talbot's past. The woman had tried hard to dispel any worry Melanie might have had where Leonora was concerned; that could have been helpful under any other circumstances, but as it was, the knowledge opened up a whole new outlook.

  Melanie climbed between the cool sheets of her divan, and as she lay down, she knew she ought to be experiencing great relief, for here, surely, was the answer to her problem.

  Julian and Leonora had at one time aroused speculation among their neighbours about the possibility of their marrying, for both were free, but nothing had come of it; there was no other explanation for Mrs Hardwick's hasty, almost clumsy attempt to assure Melanie that this was past history.

  Melanie frowned. Why hadn't Julian asked Leonora to marry him? Was it because Leonora had refused to give up her work? Knowing the kind of man Julian was, this was quite feasible. He wouldn't expect his wife to go rushing off to the Continent, or anywhere else, for that matter, at a moment's notice.

  Her frown deepened. Yet now Leonora was seriously considering giving up her job. Why? Had she come to realise that Julian meant more to her than her career?

  Did she know that Julian had married? Or did he save that particular news until the evening of the dinner party? Melanie blinked. Surely not! It would have been too cruel for words.

  She turned restlessly. Julian could be cruel; there was a core of pure steel under that outgoing charm of his, as Melanie knew to her cost.

  With a quick thump of her pillows, she made one last attempt to go to sleep. She was very tired, and ought to have slept the minute her head touched the pillow, but it was no use, and she gave up and sat with her arms clasped around her knees.

  So here she was, the pig in the middle again, she thought bitterly. It wouldn't take long for Leonora to spot that her marriage to Julian was a marriage of convenience. His convenience, that was.

  Melanie's small teeth caught her lower lip. Not that it mattered—it didn't, not one bit—but she would probably wonder why Melanie had settled for such an arrangement. Oh, no, she wouldn't, Melanie thought with a twist of her soft lips. She was a woman, wasn't she, and like the rest of them, she would find it inconceivable that Melanie was not in love with her husband, paper marriage or no paper marriage.

  Her mind went back to the scene of Julian and Leonora, and the way he had flung back his head in laughter, and again she felt that stab of resentment. Jealousy? She shook her head violently. No, no, no! But a little voice whispered inside her, Yes, yes, yes!

  Melanie groaned, and thrust a hand through her soft hair. All right, so she was jealous! Horribly jealous, but where did that get her? What chance did she have against someone like Leonora? None, none at all.

  She drew in a swift breath. She mustn't let go. Not now, when her hopes of gaining her freedom from this impossible situation stood a chance of success.

  What a mess she would have been in now if she had allowed herself to be mesmerised by Julian back on that island. To have come back with stars in her eyes, truly Julian's wife, and to have been confronted by Leonora! And what would have been worse than to have to listen to little Mrs Hardwick's revelations about the past!

  Melanie shuddered. Well, sense had saved her from that experience, and it would again.

  At breakfast the following morning, Celia was impatient to know if Melanie had remembered to ask Leonora if they could call on her that afternoon, and Melanie had to confess that she had not done so, that there just hadn't been a chance to get her on her own, which was true enough. Her natural shyness had prevented her from seeking out her company, particularly to ask a question that might have sounded a bit forward.

  However, she did not have to explain in detail, for Julian came to her rescue with a cool, 'Melanie had enough on her hands entertaining our guests, and since when have you bothered with protocol?' he demanded. 'You usually just pop over there.'

  Celia's eyes danced wickedly. 'Well, Melanie thought I ought to give dear old Leonora a few days' rest first,' she said, peeping at Melanie under her dark lashes.

  Melanie could have strangled Celia, and felt the flush staining her cheeks. 'I didn't put it quite like that,' she said indignantly, 'it was only '

  Celia broke in with. 'You know what, Dad? Melanie somehow got the impression that Leonora

  was in her dotage! And she ought to have
known better, because I told her that in some ways she was like her.'

  Julian frowned at this. `I'm afraid I fail to see the connection,' he said, in a voice that spoke of his disapproval of Celia's levity on the subject.

  Celia stared at her father, not quite sure how to take this hint of a rebuke from him. 'Well, I only meant ' She gave up and shrugged, then gave her attention to her coffee cup. 'Well, I still think they're alike,' she ended defiantly.

  Julian's wry smile at his daughter's bright bent head confirmed Melanie's thoughts on the matter. Of course, she wasn't anything like that lovely creature next door. It was no small wonder that Julian had been put out by the attempted comparison. They were about as alike as chalk and cheese, she thought ruefully.

  'You might sound her out on taking you with her on that trip to Venice she's planning. For pleasure this time, I'm told, and not on business,' he said to Celia.

  Celia's eyes widened as she stared at her father. 'Truly?' she asked in a hushed voice.

  Julian gave her a mock look of censure. 'As it's not my habit to joke about such things, yes, really.'

  Turning to Melanie, Celia said, 'Oh, Melanie, it will be wonderful! Leonora is sure to say yes, you know.'

  Melanie's eyes went to Julian, and there was a small silence before Julian said quietly, 'Not Melanie.'

  Celia blinked in astonishment at this quiet but firm statement. 'But ' she began, then caught her father's eye and subsided. She knew defeat when she met it.

  Melanie was grateful that the meal was over when this rather embarrassing interlude happened, and she

  had not had to sit through it with the certain knowledge that Julian had at last made up his mind to release her from the contract.