Marriage at a Distance

by Craven, Sara

  His lips tightened. ‘As you wish,’ he said with ominous quietness. ‘I’ll expect you in the study in half an hour.’ He turned and walked away towards the house.

  As if I were some schoolgirl playing truant, Joanna thought, seething, as she dismounted.

  ‘Oh, Lord,’ Sadie said dismally. ‘I’d better start looking for another job.’

  ‘Nothing of the kind,’ Joanna told her robustly. ‘He won’t blame you. I’ll see to that.’

  Without particular haste, and smilingly refusing Sadie’s anxious offers of assistance, she rubbed Nutkin down and put his rug on him, then cleaned the tack with her usual care, before hanging it away.

  Grace Ashby met her as she entered the house.

  ‘Mr Verne has returned, madam,’ she said rather anxiously. ‘And he’s been asking for you. Several times.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Joanna returned steadily. ‘Bring some coffee to the study, please, Grace.’

  The study door was closed. She regarded it for a moment, then tapped lightly and went in.

  Gabriel was sitting at the desk, frowningly intent on the computer screen in front of him.

  Without looking up, he said, ‘I don’t appreciate being kept waiting, Joanna.’

  She said crisply, ‘And I don’t like being ordered about as if I were a servant. Or being reprimanded in front of the staff either.’

  His head lifted sharply. He gave her a long look. ‘Point taken,’ he said at last. ‘But the difficulty is knowing exactly how to deal with you.

  ‘After all,’ he added with deliberation. ‘You certainly don’t want me to treat you as a wife.’ He gave her a barbed smile. ‘Or has my absence made your heart grow fonder?’

  ‘No,’ she said expressionlessly. ‘It has not.’

  ‘The loss,’ he said, too courteously, ‘is all mine.’ He paused. ‘However, when I give particular instructions, I expect them to be obeyed—even by you. And I said quite clearly that Nutkin was only to be ridden by me.’

  ‘But you,’ she said, ‘were on the other side of Europe. Vienna, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Vienna was cancelled. My opposite number has appendicitis.’

  ‘Whatever,’ she said shortly. ‘The point is it’s not fair to leave the horse eating his head off in the stables while you charge round the world playing businessman of the year.’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘The real point is that you thought I wouldn’t find out.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘Find him a comfortable ride, did you?’

  ‘He will be,’ she said. ‘When we’re used to each other.’

  ‘Lionel had doubts about him, you know. Wasn’t sure he was going to keep him. He thought he spooked too easily.’

  She shrugged. ‘That can be cured. On the hill there’ll be nothing to alarm him.’

  ‘Nor will there be you,’ he said. ‘At least, not on Nutkin.’

  ‘Lionel never forbade me to ride anything in his stables,’ she flashed.

  ‘I don’t think he’d have encouraged you to ride Nutkin.’

  ‘Yet here I am, safe and sound.’ She put out of her mind the memory of those moments when she’d thought both she and the horse would go down on the road.

  ‘Then let’s keep it that way. From now on you ride Minnie or Rupert.’

  ‘Am I supposed to be impressed by this display of autocracy?’

  ‘That’s entirely up to you.’ He reached for the mail she’d placed on the desk earlier. ‘By the way, Sylvia rang back to say this afternoon’s fine and ask us to have tea with them. I accepted.’

  Joanna stared at him. ‘You mean—both of us?’

  ‘Of course. Why not?’

  She shook her head. ‘I can think of all kinds of reasons. I’ll go on my own at a different time.’

  He said wearily, ‘Joanna—stop being a brat. We shall have to appear in public together from time to time. It’s known as satisfying the conventions. Going to Sylvia’s will be a painless start.’

  That, she thought, is what you think.

  Aloud, she said, ‘Don’t you think your godmother will find it strange to see us playing good companions?’

  ‘On the contrary, she’s all for civilised behaviour.’ He paused. ‘Even if she did think our marriage was a terrible mistake.’

  ‘Yet another one.’ Joanna gave a small, metallic laugh. ‘The list is endless.’

  There was a knock at the door and Grace Ashby came in with a tray of coffee, which Joanna directed her to place on a side table.

  When they were alone again, Gabriel’s brows lifted mockingly. ‘Your idea, darling?’ he drawled. ‘How very thoughtful of you.’

  ‘Just practising my civilised behaviour.’ While the door was open she’d seen Cynthia hovering in the hall, clearly awaiting her chance.

  I shouldn’t hold up the course of true love any longer, she thought, biting her lip.

  ‘Well,’ she continued brightly, ‘I’ll leave you to it.’

  ‘Stay,’ he said. ‘Have some coffee with me.’

  ‘Another order?’ She looked at him with hauteur.

  ‘Just a simple request.’

  ‘Now, that,’ she said, ‘I don’t believe.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because simplicity is not one of your primary characteristics.’

  ‘You’re wrong,’ he said. ‘I’m an animal of fairly basic appetites—as I’m sure you remember.’ His gaze held hers for what seemed an endless moment. ‘But for now my overriding desire is for coffee. Be a good wife and pour me some, will you?’

  ‘Gladly.’ She paused. ‘Let me see. You take it with cream and two sugars, right?’

  ‘Wrong.’ He rocked back gently in his chair. ‘Just plain black.’

  ‘Of course,’ she said repentantly. ‘I must have been thinking of someone else.’

  ‘You wish,’ he murmured.

  She poured the coffee with exaggerated care and put it beside him, retiring with her own cup to the seat beside the fire.

  There was a silence, then Gabriel said abruptly, ‘Thank you for sorting out Lionel’s room. It can’t have been easy.’

  ‘Very little is.’

  He gave her an ironic look. Then, ‘Did you come to any decision about Larkspur Cottage?’

  Her throat muscles tightened. ‘I followed up your suggestion, and it’s all settled. Cynthia’s on the point of moving in.’ She hesitated. ‘Henry Fortescue seemed concerned about the rent—how it was going to be paid. I—I didn’t really know what to tell him.’

  ‘I’ll talk to him.’ Gabriel made a note on a pad beside him. ‘Explain the situation.’

  ‘That—might be best,’ Joanna agreed woodenly. She hesitated again. ‘Cynthia’s suggested taking some of the furnishings from here. Do you wish to make any kind of stipulation about that?’

  He shrugged. ‘No. Let her take what she wants.’

  In other words, give her carte blanche to strip the place, Joanna thought bitterly. But why should I care?

  She took a deep breath to compose herself. ‘Perhaps you’d let me have a schedule of your movements over the next few weeks, so that I can consult Grace about meals,’ she suggested with cool politeness.

  ‘That won’t be a problem. I shall be remaining here for the foreseeable future.’

  Her cup rattled back into its saucer. She said, ‘You mean you won’t be going abroad again for a while?’

  ‘I shan’t be going anywhere.’ Gabriel gave her a cordial smile. ‘I’ve delegated the running of the company to my managers, and told them to contact me only in emergency. I have enough on my hands here as executor of the estate at the moment.’

  Joanna bit her lip. ‘This is—rather a change in policy for you.’

  ‘And probably long overdue.’ The tawny eyes rested on her meditatively. ‘If I’ve learned anything from the debacle of our marriage, Joanna, it’s been the unwisdom of sacrificing personal relationships to work. I shan’t make the same mistake again.’

  Somehow, Joanna drank the rest o
f her coffee, put down her cup, and rose to her feet.

  She said quietly, ‘I’m sure your future wife will be glad to hear it.’

  He smiled faintly. ‘I’ll make sure she is.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Shall we say half past three?’

  She stared at him, thrown. ‘For what?’

  ‘Our visit to Charles and Sylvia,’ he said patiently. ‘We’ll take my car.’

  She wanted to scream at him, Take your future wife instead. But she forced the words back with an effort.

  ‘Actually, I have some errands in Westroe this afternoon,’ she improvised swiftly. ‘Perhaps it would be better if I met you there.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ He rose too, coming round the desk to her. Joanna made herself stand her ground, return his gaze with apparent unconcern.

  He said softly, ‘Just as long as you don’t forget, or find yourself detained by some unforeseen circumstance. Because that, Jo, wouldn’t amuse me at all.’

  ‘In other words—your rules.’ She kept her tone flat. ‘You’ll have to supply me with a list of them, Gabriel, in case I inadvertently transgress.’

  His eyes glinted at her. ‘What—you, my little plaster saint? Impossible.’

  ‘Plaster saint?’ she exclaimed, stung. ‘That’s a foul thing to call anyone.’

  ‘Isn’t that what you want to be?’ There was no amusement in the tawny gaze now. ‘Safe in your little niche—immune from the sins of the flesh—untouchable and—untouched? Because you’ve never wanted to be a woman, Joanna.’ He paused, ‘Or was it simply being my woman that was so abhorrent to you?’

  His words were like knives, but she made herself shrug lightly.

  ‘Can’t we simply agree we were incompatible and leave it there?’

  He shook his head slowly. ‘You were one of my failures in life, Jo. And I don’t like to lose.’

  Her heart was hammering against her ribcage. His eyes were like molten gold. She felt them searing her flesh.

  She lifted her chin. ‘Not a failure, Gabriel. Just—a mistake. From which we can both learn.’

  ‘Or we could choose a different lesson.’

  One hand snaked round her, pulling her forward. The other lifted to release her hair from the confines of its prosaic elastic band.

  She found herself held against him—imprisoned by his arms.

  He said huskily, ‘Forget the pious platitudes, Jo. For once in your life kiss me as if you wanted to. As if you wanted me.’

  His mouth was so close—just a butterfly’s wing away. His hand moved on the nape of her neck, under the fall of her hair, softly, teasingly, sending a deep shiver pulsating through her body.

  He whispered, ‘Kiss me…’

  It would be so easy, she thought longingly, to yield to his persuasion. To let the desire of the moment sweep her away. To assuage the pain and the need of the past unhappy years by putting her lips against his. And by following wherever that led.

  Oh, dear God, so disastrously, fatally easy.

  She wrenched herself free. Took a step backwards, distancing herself. Out of harm’s way.

  She said, between her teeth, ‘This is not a game, Gabriel, and I am not some toy. You don’t like to fail. I won’t be used. Checkmate.’

  She turned and went out of the room, across the hall and up the stairs, without looking back and without hesitation, in spite of the scalding tears that were half blinding her.

  Tears that she dared not let him see. Tears she could not allow herself to shed, because they were a sign of the weakness she could not afford.

  And she knew with painful desperation that she was going to need all the strength she possessed—just to survive.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘MY DEAREST child, what a nightmare for you.’ Sylvia Osborne’s hug was warm, but the look she directed at Joanna was searching as well as kind. ‘I can hardly believe it.’

  ‘Nor I.’ Joanna’s voice was constrained. ‘I still look up, expecting him to walk in…’

  ‘Of course.’ Sylvia drew her over to one of the comfortable, sagging, chintz-covered sofas and sat down beside her, clasping Joanna’s hands in hers. ‘If only we’d been here. Not that we could have done anything…’ She paused. ‘And now Gabriel is back.’ She let the words sink into another silence.

  Joanna bit her lip. ‘Yes. Have you heard the terms of Lionel’s will?’

  Sylvia nodded. ‘Gabriel told me when we spoke on the telephone this morning. It’s all quite unbelievable.’

  Joanna swallowed. ‘He—he’s very angry about it, isn’t he?’

  ‘Small wonder,’ Sylvia said tartly. ‘Firstly he’s dragooned into that ridiculous marriage—which anyone could see was going to be a disaster, and which one would have thought might have cured Lionel of interfering in other people’s lives—and now, in spite of everything, he’s being manipulated again.’

  ‘But he doesn’t have to be,’ Joanna said flatly. ‘I’ve told him I’ll renounce my bequest. Go somewhere else. Start a new life. Only he won’t allow it.’

  ‘Well, of course not. However muddled his motives, Lionel has provided you with a future. Gabriel wouldn’t let you deprive yourself of that.’ She shook her head. ‘Verne men, my dear. Pride, stubbornness, and a keen sense of honour—particularly where their dependants are concerned.’

  ‘I,’ Joanna said very clearly, ‘have no wish to be a dependant of Gabriel’s.’

  ‘A view he shares, no doubt.’ Sylvia paused. ‘I thought he was coming with you. What have you done—murdered him and shoved his body out of the car?’

  For the first time in many days Joanna heard herself laugh out loud.

  ‘Now why didn’t I think of that?’ She shook her head. ‘He’s joining us presently. I—I had some shopping to do, so we decided to arrive here separately.’

  As soon as she’d composed herself that morning, Joanna had changed out of her riding gear into skirt and sweater, topped them with her trenchcoat, and driven into Westroe.

  She’d lunched on scrambled eggs on toast in a local tea room, and spent the rest of the time mooching grimly round the parade of shops, eventually buying a cream silk shirt that she didn’t need simply for appearances.

  ‘Separately, but not that far apart.’ Sylvia looked past her through the window. ‘Gabriel’s here now, surveying the frost damage in the garden with Charles.’ She patted Joanna’s arm. ‘Come and give me a hand with the tea things. In awkward situations, I always find it helps to appear busy.’

  No one could feel uptight in Sylvia’s kitchen, Joanna thought, arranging sandwiches on plates and filling dishes with jam and cream for the batch of feather-light scones still cooling from the Aga.

  Sylvia loved to cook, and she’d created an environment for herself that was warm and homely, as well as being an efficient workspace. Pans and utensils hung from racks, and the huge built-in dresser groaned under the weight of her favourite blue and white china.

  ‘I made a Dundee cake too.’ Sylvia passed it to her. ‘It’s Gabriel’s favourite.’

  ‘So it is,’ Joanna said slowly. ‘I—I’d forgotten.’

  ‘Well, why should you remember?’ Sylvia asked robustly. ‘It isn’t as if you ever cooked for him, after all, and got to know his likes and dislikes. As soon as the honeymoon was over, it was straight back to the Manor and the status quo. Not exactly the usual start in marriage that most young wives experience,’ she added drily.

  Joanna smiled wanly. ‘I don’t think it made much difference in the long run. As you’ve already pointed out, it wasn’t a marriage made in heaven.’

  ‘But it didn’t have to end up in hell, either. Perhaps if you’d had a home of your own—some privacy where you could have slogged out your problems—it might have helped.’

  ‘There was never any question of that.’ Joanna arranged cups and saucers carefully on a tray. Because Gabriel never wanted to be tied down like that. It was convenient for him to leave me at Westroe while he got on with his own life.

  ‘And t
here were compensations too,’ she said. ‘When things were really bad, at least I wasn’t alone.’

  ‘No,’ Sylvia said with a snap. ‘You always had your stepmother, of course. A terrific consolation.’ She gave Joanna a steely look. ‘I suppose she’s sticking to the Manor like glue?’

  ‘Not exactly.’ Joanna’s hand shook as she poured milk into a silver jug, causing her to spill some on the worktop. ‘She’s moving to Larkspur Cottage for the next twelve months or so.’ She fetched a cloth and wiped up the milk drops. ‘It—it was Gabriel’s idea.’

  ‘Ah,’ Sylvia said neutrally, ‘I see.’ She spooned tea into the pot and poured on boiling water. ‘So you and Gabriel will be on your own together at last.’ She sounded meditative.

  ‘Only to fulfil the terms of the will.’ Joanna tipped sugar cubes into a bowl and placed it on the tray. ‘And through no wish of mine, believe me.’

  ‘You blame Gabriel for everything, don’t you?’ Sylvia’s voice was wry. ‘Would it help if I told you he knew about Lionel’s will and did his damnedest to talk him out of it?’

  ‘For his own good reasons, no doubt,’ Joanna retorted tightly.

  ‘No, for your sake,’ Sylvia returned. ‘He wanted you to have your freedom, and without strings. He thought he’d persuaded Lionel to agree.’

  For a moment they stood looking at each other, then Joanna turned away.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said wearily. ‘I keep forgetting that he’s your godson, and you’re bound to be on his side.’

  ‘Nothing of the kind,’ Sylvia said briskly. ‘I don’t condone his past behaviour, and he knows it. He’s not a fool, but he’s certainly acted like one. I only wish he’d transfer some of his business acumen to his private life.’

  She gave a brief sigh, then glanced around her. ‘Now, if we’re all ready, let’s take the tea in.’

  Sylvia was right about one thing, Joanna realised. Between the affectionate, exuberant greeting she received from Charles and the handing round of cups and plates of food, Gabriel’s cool politeness went almost unnoticed. Almost.

  And as the conversation ranged, from the state of the garden to the amount of painting Sylvia had achieved in Portugal, the fact that Joanna and he barely exchanged a word with each other wasn’t so painfully evident either.