A Paper Marriage

by Jessica Steele

  Jonah stared down at her for long moments, then raised a hand and brushed a stray something or other out of her hair. `Your word is good enough for me, Lydie,' he said quietly. And then, oddly, seemed to draw a steadying breath himself at her acceptance of his marriage proposal. But Lydie knew that it was just her imagination gone wild-and no wonder-because his voice was totally matter of fact when, taking a step away from the gate, he suggested, 'We'd better get back.'

  Lydie could only agree. Her father would be waiting, watching for their return. She fell into step with Jonah, but they were walking back up the drive when she thought of the sadness of the day, and hurriedly asked, `We don't have to announce it-our engagement-straight away, do we?"

  'It doesn't seem entirely appropriate to announce it generally today,' he agreed.

  `Thank you for understanding,' she said softly.

  And he looked at her and smiled. 'We'll be all right together, Lydie, trust me,' he said. And she did, and started to feel more on an even keel. 'We'll tell your parents when everyone has gone,' he decided, then seemed to realise that there was a partnership going on here, and added, `If that's all right with you?'

  Lydie had an idea he'd do as he pleased even if it wasn't all right with her, but, since he was going through the motions, `Fine,' she agreed. Then they were at the steps of Beamhurst Court and her father, who had obviously been on the fidget, strolled, as if casually, out to meet them. 'I've-er-been showing Jonah my favourite walk,' Lydie said, and, as both her father and Jonah looked down at her, for no reason she blushed. Her father looked delighted. `Can Jonah stay to dinner?' she heard herself blurting out.

  `I think that can be arranged,' Wilmot Pearson answered, and for the first time since she had come home from Donna in Norfolk, Lydie actually saw her father grin. She knew then that to agree to marry Jonah had been the right decision. Already her father was starting to get back to being the man he used to be! It seemed incredible that, just to know that Jonah was to be his sonin-law-she would hardly have invited Jonah to dinner if she had turned him down-her father should at once be on the way to being his former self. But, remembering his grin-there were no two ways about it.

  Gradually all the relatives trickled away, Kitty being one of the last to leave. Lydie would have quite liked to tell her cousin that the man she was drooling over was, as of today, affianced. But there was an order to these matters, and her parents had to be informed first.

  Though, when she'd decided to go upstairs to change out of her mourning clothes, Lydie was on the staircase when she observed that Jonah and her father seemed to making for the study again. In all probability, she realised, Jonah was telling her father she had accepted him.

  As, over dinner, she learned was true. Only her mother seemed unaware of what had taken place, and looked at her husband askance when he left the table and came back with a bottle of chilled champagne.

  `How do you feel about gaining a son?' he asked her. And, with Hilary Pearson looking as much bemused by this suddenly playful change in the dour husband she had known of late as by what he said, `Jonah has asked Lydie to marry him,' he added. `And Lydie, I believe, has accepted.'

  `Lydie' s accepted...' her mother gasped. `You're going to marry...'

  Loving someone meant that no one was going to say anything against that someone, Lydie at once discovered, even if that someone was more than well able to take care of himself. And, `Is it such a surprise, Mother?' she could not refrain from butting in.

  Her mother recovered well. 'I'm very happy for you both,' she unbent sufficiently to say.

  But was not so very happy when, a champagne toast drunk, Jonah let it be known that he was keen to marry as soon as possible.

  `These things take an age to organize. A year at least,' his future mother-in-law let him know.

  Jonah considered her answer, but not for very long. `It looks like an elopement, Lydie,' he commented.

  `Oh, no! Certainly not!' Hilary Pearson fired shortly. Jonah was unmoved. `Six months?' she reconsidered.

  `Six weeks at the very latest,' Jonah said firmly, and while Lydie was thinking, Six weeks! Grief-six short weeks! Jonah wanted them to be married before the next six weeks were out, he was battering down her mother's defences by stating, `My mother would love to liaise with you to give a helping hand.' He did not need to say anything more.

  'I'm quite sure I shall be able to manage,' Hilary Pearson assured him.

  Later, as Lydie suspected was expected of her, she went out with Jonah to his car. `Six weeks doesn't seem very long,' she suggested tentatively.

  `I don't want to wait that long, but I appreciate your mother's point of view,' Jonah replied, adding with a smile in his voice, `Some board of directors missed a gem when they didn't snap your mother up.'

  After the tensions of the day it was good to be able to find a light spontaneous laugh. `Would your mother really have helped out?' she asked a moment later.

  `Try keeping her away!' They reached his car but, while he opened up the driver's door, he did not immediately get into the driving seat. Instead he bent inside and extracted something. It was a small box. He opened it and took out the most beautiful diamond and emerald engagement ring. `Shall we see if it fits?"

  'You've had this all day!' Incredulous, Lydie stood in the brilliance of the security lights and just stared at it. `Oh, Jonah,' she whispered, her heart all his that, this day of her great-aunt's funeral, he had sensitively not given her his ring until now. He slid the ring home on her engagement finger.

  `Come here,' he said softly, and gathered her in his arms. But, perhaps recalling that she was not ready for his kisses just yet, he did not kiss her, but just sealed the giving of his engagement ring to her, and Lydie accepting, by holding her close for long moments. Then he was putting her away from him, and preparing to get into his car. `My folks are going to want to meet you. We'll have dinner with them. Tomorrow?'

  Oh, crumbs ! He was serious, then? Although with his ring new, strange on her finger, she rather thought she knew that. `I' ll er-look forward to it,' she replied politely.

  `You're going to have to stop telling lies, Lydie,' Jonah said, but she was pleased to see as he got into his car that he was smiling.

  Lydie was a long time getting to sleep that night. Stark reality that hadn't until she was alone had time to settle was there in ample supply. Had it really happened? Was she truly engaged to marry Jonah Marriott? Her fingers went to her engagement ring. It was not a dream. She was engaged to marry the man whom she loved with everything that was in her.

  And yet-it still didn't seem right. But if she said now that she would not marry him it would mean she would have to go to her father and confess her lies, confess that Jonah had had no proposition to put to him when she had told her father that he had. And, even worse from her father's pride point of view, she would have to admit that she had agreed to marry Jonah solely because he had suggested her father would feel better if his debt was to family and not outsiders.

  Lydie knew then that she would go through with this marriage to Jonah. Her father, let alone his pride, had suffered enough. Yet Lydie also knew that she wanted to be married for herself alone. She wanted Jonah to marry her for her, and not because he had decided it was time to marry and saw marriage to her as fitting in nicely with easing the cares of a man he respected. A man Jonah respected so well that he, having repaid his own debt, still believed he owed a lot of his success to.

  The trouble was, she loved Jonah so much; but not a word of love had he spoken to her. Hang it, they hadn't even kissed! Not engagement kissed. Though, remembering the day they had spent together last Saturday, and how he had kissed her on parting, thinking about it, Lydie had to be glad he had not kissed her today. Her legs had been ready to fold when his lips had touched hers the last time. How would she have reacted today to the feel of his lips when still in shock from the unexpectedness of his proposal?

  Lydie finally fell asleep glad she had six weeks in which to grow used t
o the idea of marrying Jonah. Would six weeks be enough?

  They dined with his parents and his brother the following evening. Both Jonah's father and mother were charming, his brother a bit like her own brother in personality, and all three seemed absolutely delighted that Jonah had at last chosen his bride.

  Any chance of the next six weeks gliding smoothly by, however, were doomed to failure when the two prospective mothers-in-law met. Lydie's mother wanted matters arranged one way; Jonah's mother wanted to help-her way. Trying to keep the peace between the two of them was running Lydie ragged.

  As luck would have it there was just one `slot' available in her local church on the day Lydie and Jonah had decided upon. Choristers were booked, bell ringers engaged and, after an extensive search, one of the best photographers. Limousines were chartered, caterers given detailed instructions, florists visited, designs chosen and outfits ordered.

  Lydie could not believe her mother was so enthusiastically spending money they had not got, and protested vehemently again and again as the cost of the wedding rose higher and higher. `Really, Mother, it's got to stop!' she exclaimed more than once.

  `Don't be tiresome!' was her mother's response. `You're our only daughter. Besides, I'm not going to let that Mrs Marriott think we're paupers!'

  That Mrs Marriott! They'd obviously had a sharp exchange of views. `But we haven't got this kind of money!'

  `Oh, for goodness' sake! You're marrying a man worth a mint! Do you think your father and I would let you go to him in anything but the very best?'

  Matters might have been helped had Jonah been around for Lydie to talk to. But in his endeavours to get all his work cleared, so they could fly to a secluded sun-soaked island for a couple of months, he was here, there and everywhere. More often than not he was out of the country. Lydie rarely saw him.

  He telephoned regularly, though, but she hardly felt she could complain about her lot when, although she was kept busy, he was so much busier. So Lydie silently got on with obeying her mother's `get this, get that, ring here, ring there' instructions, her `Don't forget your dress fitting,' and `No, no, no, you cannot have lisianthus in your wedding bouquet,' and `Do try and contact Kitty-she's the most tiresome child.' That `child' was twenty-six and was to be one of Lydie's four bridesmaids because `You cannot have just Donna!' her mother had exclaimed, horrified.

  `Who's going to pay for all this?' Lydie wanted to know, starting to think that Jonah's hint of an elopement was the much better plan. Her question was brushed aside while her mother thought of someone else she really must send an invitation to.

  Lydie was glad to get out of the house and drive to her dear great-aunt's home. It was not the happiest task to dispose of her belongings, but at least Lydie had peace and quiet and space to think her own thoughts.

  She sighed as she folded away the last of her great-aunt's clothes. It was all getting to be just too much. To avoid further battles with her mother she had agreed to four attendants-three cousins and Donna. And since she had agreed, and because her cousin Kitty was beautiful, and pride decreed that Jonah should not think she was afraid of the competition, Kitty was to be one of them. Her other two cousins, Emilia and Gaynor, were extremely pretty too, as also was Donna.

  Lydie waited for the furniture people to come and collect her great-aunt's bits and pieces and then took the keys and a memento of a piece of fine porcelain next door to Muriel Butler. Muriel had said she would quite like to have Miss Gough's cooker, and would have the keys to enable her to let the service men in to cut off the gas supply prior to reconnecting the cooker in her own home.

  `I'll hand the keys in to the council too, if you like,' Muriel offered. `It will save you having to come back to collect them from me. I've got to go in to pay my rent, and they won't care who hands them in so long as they've got them.'

  Lydie had grown to like Muriel, who had always been kind and friendly to her great-aunt. Lydie would not have minded returning-Aunt Alice's home had been a kind of bolthole when things got too stressed at home-but she accepted Muriel' s offer.

  Lydie then went home to find her father hiding in the summer house. Love her mother as he dearly did, it seemed there were times when he preferred his own company.

  `Have you been in yet?'

  Lydie shook her head. `I thought I spotted a figure lurking this way,' she replied, astounded at the change in him since Jonah had told him he wanted to marry her. Talk about bright-eyed and bushy-tailed! Even the expense of her wedding hadn't dimmed that new sharper air about him.

  'Um-your dear mother has a lot on her mind. It-er-might be an idea for you to go in quietly.' From that Lydie knew she was in trouble over something. She had an idea what it was.

  Her mother was waiting for her. `Did you ring the florists and countermand my instructions?' she demanded the moment Lydie went in.

  `I didn't ring; I called in when I was passing.'

  `Deliberately passing! You know we agreed we wanted lilies for your bouquet, and-'

  'I'm sorry, Mother,' Lydie cut in. Against her better judgement and for the sake of peace, albeit reluctantly, she'd had to go along with everything her mother had decreed must be. But on the issue of her bouquet Lydie had dug her heels in. `It was you who wanted lilies in my bouquet.'

  `Better than the red roses Grace Marriott suggested,' Hilary Pearson sniffed.

  'I'd prefer to have pink and white lisianthus,' Lydie said, even as she said it wondering why she was being so stubborn.

  'I'll have to change everything now!' her mother grumbled. `The church flowers, the flowers in the marquee. The-'

  `Lilies will be lovely,' Lydie said gently, `everywhere else.'

  `Grace Marriott phoned.' Thankfully Hilary Pearson went off on another tack. `She's thought of someone else she wants to invite!' she complained, when she was adding to the list herself all the time. Grace Marriott's phone call was the subject of her mother's conversation, or rather Grace Marriott's interference was, for the next ten minutes. So that when, mid-way through being harangued about her future mother-in-law's misdeeds, the telephone rang and her mother broke

  off to order, `You answer it. I'm much too busy,' Lydie was heartily glad to escape. Her mother went in search of Mrs Ross; Lydie went to answer the phone. It was Jonah!

  `Where are you?' Lydie wanted to know.

  `You sound as though you need me?' Was that hope she heard in his voice? Fat chance!

  `I've managed quite well with not seeing you for more than the briefest occasion,' she answered coolly, to hide that she felt all trembly inside from hearing him. Heaven alone only knew how she'd feel when she was standing beside him, marrying him!

  `You're saying you've missed me?"

  'I hardly know you!' she retorted pithily. It was a fact. She had seen him so rarely since their engagement he had become a stranger.

  'We'll make up for that on our honeymoon,' he said, to shatter any small amount of calm she might have found. `What's wrong?' he asked.

  Lydie wanted to deny that anything was wrong, but found she was answering truthfully. `I suppose, not to put too fine a point on it, I'm feeling the pressure.'

  `About the wedding?'

  `To be blunt, between them your mother and my mother and what I should want and what they don't want-and they're not agreeing about that anyway-are driving me potty.'

  `As bad as that?'

  She had to laugh. `Not really,' she said, ready to apologise for her bad humour. `I just wouldn't mind having your job for a while, where I could fly away and leave all this behind.'

  `Are you propositioning me?'

  She blinked. `Pardon?"

  'Forgive me. I thought you were suggesting we hid away at Yourk House this weekend.'

  `You're free this weekend?' she queried, her heart starting to thunder. `You've been so busy...'

  `Perhaps we should spend a little time this side of marriage in getting to know each other.'

  The idea had instant appeal. Not only would she be away from her
mother's constant supply of something else to stress her out about, but she would be with Jonah. 'Er-are you propositioning me?' she asked him in turn. But, nervous suddenly, she went on hurriedly, `I-um-that is, later, I know...'

  `Calm down, Lydie,' Jonah instructed, a touch of humour in his voice. `What are you trying to say?'

  She swallowed down her agitation. This was ridiculous. For heaven's sake, she was marrying the man in two weeks' time! `B-basically,' she began chokily, `what I'm trying to say is that I'm-er-not read to c-commit...'

  There was a pause. Then Jonah was asking, `As in-sleep with me?"

  'That's about it.'

  Another moment of silence followed, then, `We could have a non-committed weekend at Yourk House?' he suggested.

  Oh, yes. She loved him so. Ached so just to see him. 'I'd have my own room?' Why was she prevaricating? For goodness' sake, he'd be telling her to forget it any minute now!