A Paper Marriage

by Jessica Steele

  Her father looked appalled. 'You...' he began.

  `Please, Dad,' she butted in. `I was wrong. I know it. Which is why I feel I have to do it the right way this time.'

  `I can ring from here. He...'

  `I know I've embarrassed you by going to see him at all. But please try to understand-I need to be involved here. I can't let you take over from me.'

  Her father grunted. But, muttering something about being determined to see Jonah at the first possible opportunity, he agreed to allow her to make the appointment.

  Lydie was walking into the Marriott Electronics head office building when she started to half wish her father was with her. She felt sick, shaky, and she heartily wished this imminent interview were all over and done with.

  She rode up in the same lift, walked shakily along the same corridor and turned round the corner without an earthly idea of what she would say to the man. Eating humble pie did not come easy.

  Outside his door, she paused to take a deep breath. She knew she was ten minutes earlier than she had been on Friday, but she was too wound up to wait for ten minutes of torturous seconds to tick by.

  She put her right hand on the door handle and took a deep breath, and then, tilting her chin a proud fraction, she turned the handle and with her heart pounding went in.

  Jonah Marriott was not alone, but was midinstruction to the woman Lydie had seen step out of the lift last Friday. He looked up and got to his feet to greet her. 'Lydie,' he said and, turning to his PA, introduced them to each other.

  `We've spoken on the phone,' Elaine Edwards commented with a smile, and obviously aware of this appointment, even if Lydie was early for it, she picked up her papers, said, 'I'll come back later,' and went through into her own office and closed the door.

  `Enjoy the play?' Jonah asked, taking Lydie out of her stride-she had intended to pitch straight in there with some "The debt is mine but I can't pay"-type dialogue.

  `Very much,' she answered, with barely an idea just then what the play had been about.

  `Take a seat,' he offered. `Was that your steady boyfriend?"

  'Er-what? No. Um-I see him sometimes,' she replied, wondering what that had got to do with anything, though she would not have minded asking if the blonde were his steady. Not that she was terribly interested, of course.

  She took the seat he indicated and opened her mouth, ready to put this conversation along the lines it was to go, when, `Coffee?' he asked, and she knew then that she was not the one in charge of how the conversation went-he was. He was playing with her!

  `No, thank you,' she refused, her tone perhaps a little less civil than it should be in the circumstances. `When I came here last Friday I was under the impression you had not honoured the debt you owed my father. I...'

  `So I gathered,' Jonah replied, having retaken his seat behind his desk, leaning back to study her.

  She did not care to be studied; it rattled her. `You should have told me!' she flared. `You knew you had repaid that loan!

  He smiled-it was a phoney smile. `I knew I would end up getting the blame.'

  Just then guilt, embarrassment, and every other emotion she had experienced since seeing him again last Friday after seven years, all rose up inside her, causing her control to fracture. `And so you should!' she snapped. `You set me up!' she accused hotly.

  The phoney smile abruptly disappeared. He cared not for her tone; she could tell. `I set you up?' he challenged. `My memory is usually so good, but correct me if I'm wrong-did I ask you to come here, dunning me for money?'

  Dunning! Put like that it sounded awful. Her fury all at once fizzled out. `I trusted you,' she said quietly. `Yet you, the way you hinted that I should pay the cheque into my father's bank straight away, made sure I did just that.'

  Jonah Marriott eyed her uncompromisingly. `Would you rather I had not given you that cheque?' he questioned toughly. `Would you prefer that your father was still in hock to his bank?'

  She blanched. It was becoming more and more clear to her that Jonah Marriott was much too smart for her. He knew, as she had just accepted, that by taking the money from him she had allowed her father some respite. At least there wasn't a "For Sale" notice being posted in their grounds that morning. `Why did you give me that money?' she asked. `And why make it pretty certain that I'd bank it first and tell my father afterwards?'

  Jonah shrugged. `Seven years ago your father's faith in me, his generosity, made it possible for me to successfully carry out my ideas. From what you told me on Friday, Wilmot was in a desperate fix with no way out. Without a hope of repaying any financial assistance, I knew there was no way he would accept my help.'

  That was true. Lydie sighed. She felt defeated suddenly. `My father wanted to see you as soon as possible. I said, since I was coming to London today, that I'd make an appointment and that we would both come and see you.'

  Jonah eyed her solemnly. `You lied to him?"

  'I'm not proud of it. Until last week, when I told him I was going to see a great-aunt but came here instead, I had never lied to my father in my life.'

  Jonah nodded. `I can see reason for you lying to him about coming here the first time-obviously either your brother or your mother has been bending your ear with falsehoods too-but why lie to your father about coming here today?"

  'Because-because he's been a very worried man for long enough. It's time somebody else in the family took some of the load.'

  `Namely you?"

  'It was I who asked you for that money. I who-er-um-borrowed it, not him. The debt is mine.'

  Jonah stared at her for some long moments. `It's yours?' he queried finally.

  `My father didn't ask for the money. Nor would he. As you so rightly said, he wouldn'tnot for something he couldn't see his way to pay back.' She broke off and looked into a pair of fantastic blue eyes that now seemed more academically interested than annoyed. `The debt is mine,' she resumed firmly, `and no one else's. I've come today to...' her firm tone began to slip '...t-to try and make arrangements to repay you.'

  He looked a tinge surprised. `You have money?' he enquired nicely.

  Lydie swallowed down a sudden spurt of ire. Was she likely to have taken money from him had she money of her own? `I intend to sell my car and my pearls, and there's a small inheritance due in a couple of years that I may be able to get my hands on-but otherwise I have only what I earn.'

  `You're working?' he enquired.

  He was unnerving her. `I'm between jobs at the moment,' she answered shortly. `I was leaving my job this week anyway, but left early when my mother telephoned last Tuesday and-' Lydie broke off and could have groaned out loud. Jonah Marriott was a clever man. From what she had just said he would easily deduce it had been her mother who had told her that he had reneged on his debt to her father.

  Jonah did not refer to it, however, but asked instead, `What sort of work do you normally do?"

  'I'm a nanny. I look after children.'

  `You enjoy it?"

  'Very much. I thought, once Oliver's wedding is out of the way, that I'd look around for something else.'

  `In the same line?'

  Lydie gave him a slightly exasperated look, and was wondering what his questioning had got to do with her repaying him when it all at once dawned on her it had everything to do with it. She was proposing to pay him back fifty-five thousand pounds-out of her earnings. 'Actually-it, the job-it pays quite well,' she offered-rather feebly, she had to admit.

  He smiled again, that smile she had no faith in. `Even so, I don't know that I want to wait thirty years for you to save up.'

  'You can't put the debt at my father's door!' she erupted fiercely, her lovely green eyes at once sparking fire.

  He stared at her, unsmiling, for several long moments. `I have no intention of doing that,' he stated.

  `You accept that the debt is mine, and mine alone?"

  'You're determined to take the-er-debt on as your own?'

  She did not have to think twice about it whe
n she thought of her poor dear father's haggard face, his shoulders bent with worry. `I am,' she said. 'I'll make arrangements to...'

  `You have a plan?"

  'No,' she had to confess. `But I...'

  `Don't go selling your car or your jewellery,' Jonah advised, it seeming plain to him, evidently, that she hadn't any idea how to meet her debt.

  `I don't know how else to begin to make a start on repaying you.'

  Jonah leaned back, studying her as if he liked what he saw. `Perhaps I can come up with something,' he remarked.

  It was her turn to stare at him. 'You'll-think of something?' she queried eagerly.

  He afforded her a pleasant look. `Leave it with me.'

  Leave it with him? That was much too vague! She'd been fretting about it all over the weekend. She needed this sorted out now. `You've no idea now?"

  'I'll need to think about it.'

  `When will you let me know?' The sooner they had matters arranged, the sooner she could make future plans-perhaps she could find work on her time off. Anything extra would be welcome, the sooner to pay off that colossal debt. `If you could tell me this week some time?' she hinted. `I'd-'

  `Let's see,' he cut in pleasantly. `Today's Monday-I should have some idea by, say, Saturday.'

  `You'll tell me on Saturday?' she asked urgently. Then remembered, and cried, 'Oh I'll be at Oliver's wedding on Saturday!'

  That smile she didn't trust a bit was in evidence again. 'I'll see you there,' he informed her.

  `You're going to... ? You've had an invitation?"

  'I'm sure you'll remedy that oversight,' Jonah Marriott answered coolly.

  Lydie stared at him in disbelief. `You want to go to Oliver's wedding?' Why, for goodness' sake, would he want to do that? There was only one way to find out. `Why do you want to attend?' she questioned suspiciously.

  `I like weddings,' he replied without a blink. `Provided they're someone else's.'

  Lydie eyed him hostilely. Why would he want to gatecrash her brother's wedding? She thought of her beloved father, in his own private hell, and her eyes widened. `You wouldn't embarrass my father?'

  Jonah's smile abruptly disappeared. `I have the greatest respect for your father,' he told her sternly.

  She thought she could believe him. But, even so. 'I'd better sign something to the effect that it is I who owe you that money,' she suggested.

  Jonah's harsh manner departed. `I think I can trust you, Lydie,' he said evenly.

  She had previously believed she could trust him-and had been set up for her pains. `It isn't for you. It's for me,' she told him bluntly.

  He looked back at her, his chin thrusting just that aggressive fraction forward. `You don't trust me?' he said coldly. `You think, after the discussion we've just had, that I'll forget everything we've said, and that I'll send the debt collectors after your father?' Stubbornly she refused to back down. Silently a pair of obstinate clear green eyes stared into a pair of cold blue eyes. Then Jonah Marriott opened a drawer and drew out a sheet of paper. He dropped the paper down in front of her and without another word uncapped his pen and handed it to her.

  He hates me, she thought, but was unshakeable in her resolve. That cheque had been made out to her father. She took the pen from Jonah and after a moment's thought wrote.

  I, Lydie Pearson, in respect of the fifty-five thousand pounds borrowed from Jonah Marriott and paid into the bank account of Wilmot Pearson, hereby agree that the repayment of that fifty-five thousand pounds is my debt alone.

  She read through what she had written and, while she felt lawyers might phrase it a little differently, she believed it said what she wanted it to say: that the debt was nothing to do with her father. Before she signed it, and purely as a courtesy, she turned the paper round so Jonah should read what she had penned.

  It did not take him long. Though, when she would have taken the paper back and signed it, he took the pen from her hand and in his strong writing added something. Then, as she had, he turned it round for inspection. `The fifty-five thousand pounds to be repaid at the direction and discretion of Jonah Marriott,' she read.

  Lydie was not very sure of the ground she was on here, but, having stubbornly held out to have something in writing, she did not think she could start nit-picking about any wording now.

  Without looking at him, she took the pen from him and signed her name at the bottom, and then added the date. She handed both pen and paper back to him, and watched while he recapped his pen and stood up. He was a busy man; her appointment with him was over.

  `I take it you'd like a copy?' he queried.

  Since the idea of that piece of paper absolving her father of the debt was her idea, she didn't know how Jonah could ask. In fact, she thought the original should be hers.

  She stood up, chin tilted. `Please,' she answered shortly.

  He smiled that smile she was beginning to hate. `I shall look forward to Saturday,' he said.

  With that she had to be content. She would see him on Saturday-now how was she going to wangle him an invitation? And what possible excuse could she use for wanting him there? And what, in creation, was she going to tell her father?

  CHAPTER THREE

  LYDIE thought and thought all the way home. But she still had not worked out what to tell her father when she was heading up the drive of Beamhurst Court. She wanted to stick as close to the truth as possible, but doubted that her father would be impressed that his near to penniless daughter had claimed his debt as hers. He just would not stand for that.

  The first person Lydie met on going indoors was her mother. Oh, grief. Her mother had not seemed very friendly towards Jonah Marriott when she had spoken of him. Lydie just knew she was going to ask quite a few vitriolic questions when Lydie said she wanted him to be invited to Oliver's wedding.

  But there was a smile on her mother's face. `Oliver's home,' she beamed, Oliver was home; all was right with the world. `Did you leave your shopping in your car?' Shopping? `Your father said you were going in to London to...'

  `Oh, I couldn't see anything I liked.' Heavens, was there no end to the lies she had to tell?

  `Nothing?' Her mother looked askance. `In the whole of London?"

  'You know how it is,' Lydie began uncomfortably, but was saved further perjury when Wilmot Pearson emerged from his study. Saved, that was, of lying further-to her mother.

  `I'll go and see Mrs Ross about this evening's meal,' Hilary Pearson declared, and Lydie knew that whatever they had been going to have was about to be changed to something Oliver was particularly partial to.

  In normal times she and her father might have exchanged wry smiles. But these were not normal times, and there was not a smile about either of them as her mother went to see their housekeeper and her father held his study door open-indicating that Lydie join him in there.

  He was not interested in how she had fared on her shopping expedition, but as soon as they were in his study and he had closed the door he at once asked, `When do we see Jonah?"

  'We don't,' Lydie answered, but added hurriedly as her father's brow creased, `I was lucky. I managed to see Jonah today.'

  'You've s-'

  `He was able to spare me a few minutes out of his busy day.'

  `You told him that I wanted to see him?'

  `Of course.' She was glad she hadn't had to lie about that.

  `So you've made an appointment for me to...' `Well, not exactly.' Her father was starting to look exasperated with her, and Lydie hurried on.

  `He said you mustn't worry.'

  `Not worry!' Wilmot Pearson stared incredulously at her, and Lydie rushed in again.

  `He said to forget about the money.' What was one more lie?

  `Forget it?' her father echoed, and, his pride to the fore, `That I will not!' he stated vehemently.

  `Oh, Dad, please don't...' she said helplessly.

  And at her totally wretched tone he calmed down to stare at her. `What... ?' he began. She wriggled, mentally writhed, and knew
she should have stayed away from the house until she had some convincing lie worked out. Though, the way things were, she felt it would be some time next week before she could come up with anything halfway convincing to relieve her father of his worry. `Spit it out, Lydie love,' he coaxed, when she was still stumped.

  `It's-difficult,' she said after a struggle.

  `What is? I owe Jonah Marriott money and have to see him to discuss it. What's difficult about that?"

  'That's just it! I don't want you to see him.'

  Wilmot Pearson was a fair and just man. And, in respect of his two offspring, indulgent, and prepared to do everything he could for their health and happiness. Which was perhaps why he tempered what was obvious to him-that, regardless of what his daughter wanted, he and his pride demanded he meet with the man to whom he was in debt-and asked, `Why don't you want me to see him, Lydie?' Oh, help. She racked her brain, but no good reason would come through. `Why is it difficult?' he persisted.