by Betty Neels
Mr Tait-Bullen knew exactly how she felt the moment he set eyes on her.
He nodded to the porter and reached her before she could get to her feet, his eyes searching her face. What he saw there reassured him, and he smiled.
‘I can see that I am marrying a treasure. Do you know that the one virtue a medical man longs for in a wife is punctuality? You see, he is never punctual himself...’
‘I was a bit early. I wasn’t sure—that is, I thought that perhaps...’ She met his steady gaze. ‘No, that’s not quite true—I knew you’d come.’
‘Of course. Do you have to see anyone? You’ve said your goodbyes?’
And, when she nodded, he picked up her case and together they left the hospital.
They were clear of Southampton, driving through a dripping countryside, before he said, ‘If you will agree, we can be married on Monday. I’ll come down to Little Planting on Sunday evening, and we can marry in the morning and drive back in the afternoon.’
He had a list on Tuesday, but there would be Monday evening in which to show Claudia her new home. Cork had confided plans for a splendid supper, and Mr Tait-Bullen had left his devoted servant icing a cake for tea. It wasn’t the kind of wedding that Cork would have liked for his master, but he was determined to make it as bridal an occasion as possible.
And that reminded him of something. He brought the car to a gentle halt and fished around in a pocket.
‘Ours must be one of the briefest engagements ever known,’ he observed, and opened the little velvet box in his hand. The ring it contained was a sapphire, a rich, sparkling blue surrounded by diamonds and mounted in gold. He picked up Claudia’s left hand, resting in her lap, took off her glove and slipped the ring on her finger.
‘Oh, it’s beautiful—and it fits.’ Claudia’s sigh was one of pure delight. ‘Thank you, Thomas.’ She stared at it, incongruous on her roughened hand with its short, clipped nails. She would have to do something about that before the wedding.
She looked at him and saw that he was studying her hand. She said quite awkwardly, ‘We did wear gloves whenever we could, but sometimes it just wasn’t possible.’
His smile was kind. ‘It was my grandmother’s engagement ring. She left it to me with the wish that I would give it to the girl I married.’
‘She was fond of you?’
‘Indeed, she was. We were the best of friends.’
‘You miss her?’
‘Yes, we all do—my mother and father, my two sisters and younger brother. You will meet them all at Christmas...’
Claudia said faintly, ‘Oh, shall I? Do they all live in London?’
‘No, Mother and Father live in Cumbria, a small village called Finsthwaite, at the southern end of Lake Windermere. It is rather remote but very beautiful, close to the heart of Grizedale Forest but not too far from Kendal. My sisters are married. Ann—she’s the elder—lives in York. Her husband’s a solicitor. Amy and her husband live near Melton Mowbray. He’s a farmer. James is at Birmingham Children’s Hospital—a junior registrar.’
‘They won’t be coming to our wedding?’
‘Mother and Father—the rest of the family you’ll meet at Christmas. We shall spend it at Finsthwaite.’ He added casually, ‘They’ll be delighted to welcome you into the family.’
‘They don’t know me. They might not like me...’
‘You will be my wife,’ said Thomas.
A fact which she could not dispute.
Tombs, beaming widely, opened the door to them when they reached George’s house. He shook Claudia by the hand, and then Mr Tait-Bullen, wished them happy and led them across the hall to the sitting room. Her mother was there and embraced Claudia warmly before offering a cheek for her future son-in-law.
‘Such a surprise,’ she told them. ‘We’re all so excited. George is in his surgery but Tombs has gone to fetch him. We had no idea...’
Nor had I, thought Claudia, but she didn’t say so. ‘We thought we’d be married on Monday...’
‘Darling—but you haven’t any clothes, and I must have a new hat at least, and who is to be invited? Such short notice...’
‘Thomas would like his parents to come, Mother.’ Claudia looked at him and felt a touch of peevishness at the sight of him standing there, looking faintly amused.
‘May they do that, Mrs Willis? We both want a quiet wedding, and I can’t spare more than a day. We would like to marry in the morning, then drive back to London, which would give us the rest of the day together.’
‘Of course, you poor dears—scarcely more than a few hours to be together.’
‘We shall make up for that later on,’ said Mr Tait-Bullen soothingly.
He turned as George came into the room. ‘We do hope we haven’t spoilt any plans you and Mrs Willis may have made...’
Dr Willis kissed Claudia and shook hands with him. ‘We don’t go away until the end of next week, and even if we had plans we would be delighted to upset them for such a happy occasion. Staying for lunch, I hope?’
Tombs had brought in the coffee tray, and Mrs Willis poured while Claudia, glad of something to do, handed around cups and saucers and biscuits.
‘I must get back. I’ve a clinic this afternoon and patients to see this evening.’
Claudia, sitting beside her mother, watched Thomas, perfectly at ease, everything arranged as he had wished, calm and self-assured, listening to George explaining the difficulties of being a GP’s wife. He made no attempt to mention his own work; she guessed that it was just as time-consuming and demanding.
She went out with him to his car presently, and he stood for a minute, looking down at her. ‘I’ll see you on Sunday evening. My mother and father will be with me in their own car. We’ll put up at the Duck and Thistle.’
He took her two hands in his. ‘Quite sure, Claudia?’
She said steadily, ‘Yes, Thomas. It’s a bit unusual, isn’t it? Getting married like this. But if we’re sure, and it’s what we want, there’s no point in mulling it over for months, is there? And I don’t suppose that if we were engaged for a long time we’d see much of each other—I mean, get to know each other better—for you would be working and I’d be bogged down in plans for the wedding.’
‘What a sensible girl you are, Claudia.’ He bent and kissed her, a brief, friendly kiss, before getting into his car and driving away.
Back in the sitting room, her mother said, ‘Darling, we’re all so happy for you. He’s just right for you and so handsome. You’ll have a delightful life together. I can hardly believe it—there we were a few weeks ago, with not a penny piece between us and no roof over our heads, and look at us now. I’m here with George, and so very happy, and you’ll be happy, too, with Thomas.’ She paused to look at Claudia. ‘Clothes—you must have some new things...’
‘I’ve told you about the dress and jacket, and the hat, and I’ve bought one or two other things. Enough to go on with. I expect I’ll get some new clothes when we’re in London. There hasn’t been time, and Thomas knows that.’ She added carefully, ‘You see, there didn’t seem much point in waiting—my job in the hospital wasn’t quite what I thought it would be, and Thomas wanted me to leave as soon as possible.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘So did I.’
Mrs Willis started to say something, and then stopped. Instead she observed, ‘I expect Thomas fell in love with you the first time you met...’
‘It happens all the time,’ said Claudia. ‘Look at you and George.’
‘Well, dear, for George, yes. But it took me a long time to discover that I loved him. And I dare say if it hadn’t been for that awful Ramsay cousin, and us being turned out of the house, I might never have discovered how I felt.’
‘What a good thing it happened that way, then. Though it was horrid, wasn’t it? Do you hear or see anything of him and
his wife?’
‘No, dear. They keep themselves very much to themselves, and the village isn’t friendly towards them.’ Mrs Willis sighed happily. ‘How nice that we don’t have to think about them anymore. Now, on Monday I thought that we would have a buffet lunch. Mrs Pratt is longing to prepare a feast for you. A pity that it is to be such a quiet wedding.’ She glanced at Claudia. ‘You don’t mind?’
‘No, Mother, I’m happy to do whatever Thomas wants. If we had decided to marry later on, we wouldn’t have seen much of each other—he’s busy all day most days. At least I shall see him when he comes home in the evenings.’
A remark which satisfied her mother, just as Claudia had meant it to.
* * *
CLAUDIA WOKE EARLY on Monday morning. It was still dark outside as she got out of bed, wrapped herself in her dressing gown and crept downstairs. The light was on in the kitchen and Mrs Pratt was there, carefully lifting tiny vol-au-vents from a baking sheet onto one of Dr Willis’s best china dishes. Tombs was there, too, sitting by the Aga, polishing wine glasses.
‘No, no. Don’t move,’ said Claudia as he started to get up. ‘I thought I’d make a cup of tea.’
Mrs Pratt beamed at her. ‘You should still be in your bed, Miss Claudia. I dare say you’re excited. It isn’t every day a girl marries. The kettle’s boiling, if you’d like to make tea...’
‘We’ll all have a cup. You’re both coming to the church, aren’t you?’
‘Wouldn’t miss it for all the tea in China, Miss Claudia,’ said Tombs. ‘Me and Mrs Pratt are that pleased. Took to the doctor the moment we set eyes on him, didn’t we?’
Mrs Pratt, whipping something delicious in a bowl, agreed. ‘A handsome pair you’ll be—though it’s to be hoped you won’t let him see that old dressing gown, Miss Claudia. Warm and cosy it may have been at one time, but it’s past its best...’
Claudia warmed the teapot and had a sudden moment of doubt. Surely Thomas would have realised that she had had no time to buy a lot of clothes? And would he mind anyway? She had gained the impression that her appearance wasn’t something he found important. True, he had told her that she looked nice...
‘I shall go shopping in London.’ She turned to smile at Mrs Pratt. ‘I’ll leave this dressing gown behind!’
The three of them drank their tea in a friendly silence, and Rob, rousing from sleep in his basket, came to join them.
‘I’ll let him out and take the tea up as I go,’ said Claudia.
‘Begging your pardon, Miss Claudia,’ said Tombs, at his most stately. ‘You will do no such thing. That is a morning task for myself.’
‘Oh, Tombs,’ cried Claudia. ‘I’m going to miss you and Mrs Pratt.’
She finished her tea and went to the garden door with Rob, who lumbered out into the garden. She stood watching him and looked at the sky, beginning to lighten. It had been a frosty night, and her breath drifted away in soft swirls. It was going to be a lovely winter’s day. A good omen? She hoped so.
Rob came in then, making for the warmth of the Aga, and she went back to her room.
It was growing lighter by the minute. She went to the window, opened it wide and leaned out, breathing the cold air. At the other end of the village Thomas was sleeping—his parents, too. They had come at teatime—Thomas in his Rolls-Royce, his father driving a Daimler. She had seen them arrive from her bedroom window and hurried downstairs, her hair very tidy for once, wearing a dark green jersey dress which she had had for so long it had become quite fashionable again.
It was essential to make a good impression; Thomas’s parents might live miles away, but they were bound to meet occasionally. She hadn’t allowed herself to speculate about them, she’d only hoped that they would like her.
Thomas’s mother had come in first, pausing to smile at Tombs, but before she reached Claudia, Thomas had been there, bending to kiss her cheek, putting an arm round her shoulder.
‘This is Claudia, Mother—Father.’ And they had both shaken her hand and kissed her warmly, so that her vague doubts had vanished.
Thomas’s father was an elderly edition of his son, still very upright, grey-haired and handsome. His mother was almost as tall as Claudia, and still a beautiful woman, with a beauty she had allowed to age gradually, without excess make-up or tinted hair. Her face wrinkled in all the right places, and her hair was grey and simply dressed. But her eyes were still young—vivid blue and smiling. She was well dressed, too, in an understated and slightly old-fashioned way. Claudia had liked her at once.
It had been easy after that first meeting. Her mother and George had joined them, and the evening had been pleasant. Neither of the Tait-Bullens had badgered her with questions; they had talked about the wedding in a soothing manner, remarked upon the charm of the village and told her something—but not much—of their own home. And she had had no chance to talk for more than a few moments to Thomas. Only as they had been leaving to go to the Duck and Thistle had he asked her kindly, ‘Cold feet, Claudia?’
‘Certainly not,’ she had answered him indignantly, and then, looking into his face, seeing the casual friendliness in it, had added softly, ‘No, I promise you, Thomas.’
Someone was coming down the lane from the village. She withdrew her head and then poked it out again; in the dim light of dawn Thomas was coming through the open gate and up the short drive. He stopped under her window.
‘Come for a walk?’ he invited.
How could he have known that that was the very thing she most wanted to do?
‘Five minutes,’ said Claudia, and closed the window.
There were trousers and an old sweater in the cupboard; she put them on over her nightie, tied back her hair, cleaned her teeth and went down to the kitchen; her wellies were there, with socks stuffed inside them. Under Tombs’s and Mrs Pratt’s astonished gaze, she put them on, bundled on one of the coats hanging behind the kitchen door, blew them a kiss and went out into the garden round the house to where Thomas was waiting.
He took her arm and walked her briskly along the lane, away from the village. ‘No gloves?’ he asked, and took his own off and put them onto her cold hands. ‘This isn’t quite the usual behaviour of the bride and groom on their wedding day...’
‘But it isn’t a usual kind of wedding, is it?’
The lane petered out into a rough track, its rutted surface frost-bound, and as they walked Thomas began to talk—a nicely calculated jumble of odds and ends about his work, and information about his home, his friends... ‘I hope you will like them—most of them are married...’
‘Have you had any girlfriends? I’m not being nosy, but if I were to meet them I’d have to know who they are, wouldn’t I?’
Mr Tait-Bullen didn’t pause in his stride. He said briskly, ‘Naturally I have been out and about with several woman acquaintances, but they have never been more than that, Claudia.’
‘Have I annoyed you by asking? I don’t expect to know about your life, but I don’t want to be taken unawares. Anyway, I don’t suppose you’ve had much time to fall in love.’
‘I’m not sure if time is needed when one falls in love. I imagine it happens in the blink of an eye. I can promise you that I have had neither the inclination nor the time. I have always been too busy. But I shall enjoy being married to you. We shall be good friends and companions and above all we like each other. Liking the person you marry is as important as loving them.’
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ said Claudia, ‘although we can’t be quite certain, can we? I mean, you’d have to be married to someone you loved and didn’t like...’
They had been walking uphill; now they paused to watch the first rays of a wintry sun creep over the countryside. They stood and watched for a moment, and Claudia said, ‘Nice, isn’t it?’ She added slowly, ‘That’s the only thing. I expect I’ll miss this for a bit
.’
‘Yes, I can understand that. I thought we might look around for a small house not too far from here, where we can spend weekends. It’s an easy run up to town.’
He had flung an arm round her, and she turned within its comfort so that she could see his face. ‘Oh, Thomas, that would be lovely. But would you like that, too?’
‘Very much. We will wait till after Christmas and then go house-hunting. There are plenty of villages between here and the M3.’
The sun was above the horizon now, and Claudia said reluctantly, ‘We’d better go back. We’re not dressed for the wedding, are we?’
Mr Tait-Bullen took a good look at her. ‘No. I like the hair, but you look all the wrong shape...’
‘Well, I didn’t stop to dress—only an old sweater and trousers over my nightie. And I don’t know whose coat this is—I took it from the back door.’
‘And you still contrive to look beautiful,’ he told her, and then turned her round smartly and marched her back.
He left her at the kitchen door, bending to kiss her quickly. ‘Don’t be late,’ he said, and walked away as she opened the door.
‘Your ma is in a fine state,’ said Mrs Pratt. ‘Miss Claudia, whatever possessed you to go gallivanting off like that? Looking like a scarecrow, too.’
Claudia flung her arms round her old friend’s neck. ‘It was lovely—a kind of ending and a beginning, if you see what I mean.’ She skipped to the door and flew upstairs to shower, then put on her dressing gown again and went down to breakfast.
Mrs Willis submitted to her hug. ‘Darling, you shouldn’t have gone off like that—you and Thomas aren’t supposed to see each other until you meet in church, and Mrs Pratt says you looked like a bag lady...’
Claudia helped herself to toast. ‘It was lovely. We watched the sun come up. Mother, I’m so happy!’
And Mrs Willis, happy herself, leaned across the table and patted her daughter’s arm. ‘Oh, love, I do understand. So does George. He was called out just before you came downstairs—old Mrs Parson’s grandson cut his arm on a bottle.’