The Bartered Bride

by Anne Weale

  In the morning she woke to find a note for her on his pillow. It was only then she remembered that later today he was flying to Bonn for a conference with German financiers. He would be away two nights. They had decided there would be no point in her going with him as he would have no spare time. The note said: Didn’t want to wake you. Will try to call you tonight. R.

  No ‘love’. No row of crosses or hearts.

  Fran sighed and got up. She knew that last night’s lovemaking hadn’t resolved the underlying tension between them. Reid wasn’t happy. She wasn’t happy. But if there was a solution she didn’t know what it was.

  Rather than staying in London during Reid’s absence, she was going to stay with her mother.

  Mrs Turner looked well and cheerful. During their first conversation, it emerged that while Reid and Fran had been honeymooning, she had been invited to stay with Mrs Heatherley and had greatly enjoyed the visit. Later in the year Mrs H, as Daphne Turner called her, was coming to see her garden.

  ‘What a difference between her and Reid’s other grandmother,’ she said. ‘I didn’t take to Lady K at all. I expect you’ll be glad when you have a place of your own, dear.’

  Although Reid rang up that night and the following night, their conversations were brief and businesslike. He might have been calling his sister, if he had had one.

  When Fran sounded out her mother’s feelings about Julian’s father, it emerged that Mrs Turner had long had a soft spot for him and would have liked to re-employ him if he hadn’t found himself another job and another place to live not long after the bankruptcy had forced her to let him go.

  Fran decided to go and see Jack Wallace and drop a few heavy hints. She had no intention of doing it via Julian. Any contact with him would be sure to infuriate Reid.

  What he didn’t realise was that seeing Julian again had opened her eyes to the nature of her love for him. Although it had lasted much longer than a first love usually did, that was all it had been: an immature passion now replaced by another unrequited love.

  When and how she had fallen in love with her husband, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps she had known he was special the first time she saw him. Then, in the same way that, when she was using the Internet, she clicked on links to track down the information she wanted, there had been a series of moments when her feelings about him had changed and developed. Looking back, she could see the progression... the undiagnosed emotion mixed with her angry reaction to their first meeting...the strong response to their first physical contact... the buzz she had felt the day he met her at the station... the terror that he might fall off the cliff.

  Until finally it had hit her. I love him. He is the man I would go to the ends of the earth with. He is the man I would die for.

  The fear that he was incapable of returning those feelings made her deeply unhappy.

  When Reid came back from Germany, he hadn’t been in the house more than a quarter of an hour before he took her to bed. It was then she discovered the pain of making love while suppressing the words she longed to say. It was like hearing the music of a song without the lyric: incomplete.

  Afterwards, Reid lifted himself on his elbows. ‘You’re addictive. After two nights without you I was beginning to feel withdrawal symptoms.’

  She smiled, her fingers playing with the thick hair at the back of his head. ‘Me too.’

  But she knew all he meant was that he had become used to having regular sex, not that he had missed her in all the other ways that people who loved each other felt bereft when they were apart.

  Later, when they were having dinner alone together, she told him about her visit to Jack Wallace and her hope that it might not be long before he and her mother got together.

  Reid didn’t ask if she had been in touch with Julian. He said, ‘I hope they have the sense to give it a trial run before rushing into marriage. Living with someone else is a major adjustment at any age, but even more so at theirs.’

  ‘I don’t think Mum would like that.’

  ‘You must try to persuade her it’s the sensible thing to do.’

  The remark made her feel that, despite what he’d said in the bedroom, he wasn’t finding his own marriage as uncomplicated as he had expected it to be.

  A fortnight later Fran acted on two decisions. She enrolled for a course in interior design starting in September and she went to see a gynaecologist for advice on birth control. Up to now Reid had taken care of that side of things, a spin-off from his life as a bachelor. Now it was time for her to take over the responsibility.

  She told him about the course first. Instead of asking interested questions, he said, ‘You’ll probably be pregnant by then. It’s time we started working on that.’

  ‘I don’t agree. I think we should wait a few years so that I can get a career going. It was you who said I should exercise my brain. This is the way I want to do it.’

  ‘London’s already overloaded with designers. If I wait much longer to have children, I shall be in my fifties before they’re in their teens.’ Reid’s tone was abrupt to the verge of being angry.

  His attitude sparked her temper. ‘If that’s so important to you, you should have bought yourself a wife when you were in your twenties,’ she retorted impetuously.

  ‘I...did..not...buy...you!’ he roared at her.

  The mask was off now, revealing a man whose temper matched hers, except that the rage in his eyes was mixed with fierce desire.

  Before she had any idea what he meant to do, he had grabbed her by the waist, swung her bodily over his shoulder and was charging out of the room where they had been talking and up the staircase to their private quarters.

  Fran was too dumbfounded to react. She had known he kept himself at a high peak of fitness, but she wouldn’t have believed he could race up the stairs with her hanging over his back.

  By the time he dumped her on their bed, she was red in the face, breathless and still speechless. What was there to say when the man you loved was in a towering fury and had reverted to caveman tactics?

  She watched him tearing off his clothes, and felt her emotions changing, the primeval woman inside her responding to the beauty of the powerful male body emerging from the disguise imposed by convention. Without it, he ceased to be a civilised City gent and became the man who deep in her heart she knew she had always wanted; a man capable of defending her, fighting for her and, if he chose, mastering her.

  But this time he didn’t have to. When he sprang on the bed beside her, she only pretended to resist for the buzz of feeling herself pinioned. There were many things about him she didn’t know, but one thing she knew by instinct. He could overpower her, but he would never hurt her. He would only be brutal with words, never with actions.

  Their mouths met in an explosion of emotion. Fran slid her arms round his neck and immediately felt his rage melting away, leaving only the hunger to possess her. She gave herself to him with total abandon, trying to express with her body all that was locked in her heart, perhaps never to be spoken.

  Next day, while he was at the bank, she drove down to see Mrs Heatherley. His grandmother welcomed her warmly, moments later detecting that something was wrong. Fran admitted there was, explaining her feeling that Reid might be regretting their precipitate marriage.

  ‘What makes you think so?’ asked his grandmother.

  ‘Since we came back from our honeymoon I’ve felt him...distancing himself.’

  ‘He has a very responsible and not altogether congenial job,’ said Mrs Heatherley. ‘Reid is a complex man and he doesn’t find it easy to discuss his deepest feelings. Most men don’t. Has he told you about his parents’ separation?’

  ‘Only sketchily.’

  ‘Nirmila, my youngest daughter—it’s a Nepalese name her father chose for her—should never have married Reid’s father. He was years too old for her. It was an infatuation she quickly grew out of. When Reid was ten she met a man who was right for her. Reid loved both his parents and was terribly hurt b
y what he saw as her desertion. It coloured his attitude to the entire female sex. It didn’t help that in his twenties he was very much targeted by women with an eye to the main chance. I was beginning to think he might never meet someone who loved him for himself. Then you came along and I knew he had finally found the right girl for him.’

  ‘But I’m not sure I am,’ Fran said uncomfortably.

  She was strongly tempted to unburden herself, but was restrained by the feeling that Reid wouldn’t like her revealing the real basis of their marriage.

  Instead, she said, ‘Would you let me stay here for a few days? I’ll let Reid know that I’m safe but I won’t tell him where I am. I think we need some time away from each other.’

  If Mrs Heatherley thought this a curious request from a recently married bride, she didn’t show her surprise, but said mildly, ‘Of course you may stay. Your mother tells me you have a flair for interior decoration. There’s a cottage in the grounds which I want to do up. Perhaps you can give me some ideas.’

  Later, while Mrs Heatherley was busy in the garden, Fran got out her laptop and composed a letter to e-mail to Reid. When she had sent it, she rang the house in Kensington and asked Curtis to tell her husband there was a message waiting for him.

  Then she rang her mother and Shelley, telling them both that Reid would probably be getting in touch with them because she needed time to herself and was going away for a while. They were not to worry about her. She would keep in touch.

  Inevitably, they both wanted to know what was going on but Fran refused to be drawn. When she had rung off, she reread the letter now reposing in the electronic mailbox on the laptop Reid kept for personal correspondence. She wondered how he would react when he read, Reid: I am going away for a while. You needn’t worry about me. I’ll be in touch when I’ve made up my mind what to do. At the moment I feel I can’t keep my side of our bargain. Whatever happens, I shall always be glad that you were my first lover. If only the rest of our relationship was as good as that side of it, we should have no problems. But we do and I’m not sure they’re curable.

  She had signed the message Francesca because that was how he thought of her.

  That evening she persuaded Mrs Heatherley to tell her everything she could remember about Reid’s boyhood and early manhood. His grandmother needed little encouragement. She admitted that he was her favourite. The way she spoke of him sent Fran to bed filled with longing to break down the barrier between them.

  But, lying awake most of the night, she had a dispiriting feeling that Reid’s closely guarded heart might never become accessible to her.

  Next day, although dying of curiosity to know if he had rung up her mother and sister, and how he had sounded, she disciplined herself not to call them.

  Every time Mrs Heatherley’s telephone rang, she expected it to be him, seeking counsel from the one person to whom he might unburden himself. But the calls were always from other people.

  At increasingly frequent intervals she went to her room to see if he had left a ‘Where are you?’ message on her laptop. The Inbox remained obstinately empty.

  On her second night at the manor, exhaustion sent her to sleep. She woke up no closer to knowing how to tackle the future than she had been when she arrived.

  That afternoon, the two women were in the drawing room, discussing Fran’s ideas for the cottage, when a black Jaguar came round the bend in the drive.

  ‘Reid!’ she exclaimed, in sudden panic.

  ‘Don’t worry, my dear. You don’t have to see him if you don’t want to,’ the older woman said calmly.

  ‘You talk to him first,’ Fran appealed to her.

  ‘By all means.’ His grandmother bundled Fran through a jib-door she hadn’t known was there. It led into a small ante-room lined with books and furnished with nothing but a table and chair.

  Fran sat down, her hands tightly clenched on her lap, every nerve in her body in knots as she waited for Reid to arrive on the other side of the secret door she felt sure he must know about.

  It wasn’t long before she heard him greeting his grandmother. The sound of his deep resonant voice, clearly audible, through the door, sent a shiver through her.

  ‘This is an unexpected pleasure,’ she heard Mrs Heatherley say. ‘Why isn’t Francesca with you?’

  His reply was curt. ‘Because she’s left me.’

  ‘Oh, dear...I’m sorry to hear that. But I shouldn’t worry too much. Most newly-weds have quarrels. With that lovely red hair, it’s not surprising she has a temper and you can be very irritating at times, dearest boy. Why don’t you ring her up and eat a little humble pie? I presume she’s gone to her mother.’

  ‘No, she’s not there, or with her sister. I’ve no idea where she is...and I’m as worried as hell. I behaved like a skunk. It’s not surprising she walked out.’

  ‘Women are very forgiving. They’ll put up with appalling treatment from men they’re in love with. I’m sure whatever you did wasn’t so very terrible.’

  ‘It was...and she doesn’t...doesn’t love me, I mean. I’m afraid this is going to shock you but we married for mutual convenience. Love didn’t enter into it...not then.’

  This statement was followed by silence until Fran heard the old lady say, ‘But that’s changed now on your side, has it?’

  ‘Yes...I’m crazy about her. It’s funny...I never used to fall in love the way most guys do when they’re young. Now I’ve got it so badly I can’t sleep or concentrate on work. I feel I’m going crazy.’

  ‘That’s a very good thing, dear,’ his grandmother answered serenely. ‘To fall in love with your wife after you’ve married her is really much more sensible than doing it beforehand.’

  ‘But Fran doesn’t feel the same way. She was in love with someone else. She married me on the rebound.’

  ‘I’m sure you can make her love you if you put your mind to it. As your generation says, you have a lot going for you. I don’t want to make your head swell, but you are very attractive to women, Reid, and you’re a nice man too. It’s an unusual combination. So many charmers are not very likeable at rock-bottom.’

  ‘I wasn’t nice to Francesca the day before she left me. I was a swine to her.’ His voice had the ring of deep contrition.

  Fran had never heard him speak in that tone before but clearly his grandmother was one of the few people to whom he could talk without reserve.

  ‘And there’s something else,’ he went on. ‘I can’t keep my side of the bargain. She married a London-based banker with a settled future. When we were in the Pyrenees, I realised I couldn’t go on wasting my life at the bank. If Dad hadn’t been seriously ill, I should have opted out years ago. It’s late, but it’s not too late to become a professional climber. It’s something I have to do, Granny. Even for Francesca, I can’t go on with this...this $masquerade at Kennards.’

  ‘I’m amazed you’ve stuck it out so long, dear. I always felt you were a square peg in a round hole. I think you’ll be doing the right thing. If we’re lucky enough to have a vocation, we should follow it for all we’re worth.’

  ‘Yes, but how many women can stand being married to a climber? You’ve been through it. You know what it’s like.’

  ‘Indeed I do.’ Fran could visualise the wry smile that accompanied this remark. ‘It’s a combination of heaven and hell. But I’ve never, ever regretted marrying your grandfather. There are two kinds of men in this world. The steady, reliable, “safe” men who are generally rather dull dogs, and the adventurers. They aren’t as easy to live with but they’re a lot more exciting.’

  There was another pause before Mrs Heatherley continued, ‘You know this modern proverb “There’s no such thing as a free lunch”?’

  ‘Of course, but I hadn’t thought of it as a proverb before.’

  ‘Certainly it’s a proverb and a very good one. Love is not a free lunch. It has its price like everything else in life. If Francesca loves you and wants the best for you, she will have to pay for that with
periods of anxiety.’

  ‘I couldn’t ask that of her, it wouldn’t be fair.’

  ‘My dear Reid, you really should know by now that life is not fair. Anyway it’s up to Francesca. Open your heart to her and see what she says.’

  ‘I would if only I could find her. Where the hell is she?’ He sounded distraught.

  Fran sprang up and opened the door. ‘I’m here!’ She rushed across the room and flung herself into his arms. ‘Oh, darling, I’ve missed you so badly.’ She burst into tears and buried her face in his shoulder.

  Reid’s arms closed round her so tightly that she felt her ribs might snap. After a moment or two his vice-like grip relaxed slightly but not very much.

  ‘Thank God you’re safe,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I’ve been going mad with worry.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Lifting her face, she was astonished to see there were tears on his cheeks too. He was breathing as hard and unsteadily as she was, his strong face contorted with emotions she had never expected to see there, or had thought him capable of feeling.

  ‘Don’t ever do that to me again. I’ve been in hell...thinking of all the things that might have happened to you. I can’t live without you, Franny.’

  ‘Nor I without you,’ she whispered, her eyes streaming.

  ‘I’m going to leave you to sort things out in private,’ said Mrs Heatherley quietly, on her way to the door.

  When it had closed behind her, Fran said, ‘If you really do love me, there’s nothing to sort out. If you want to live in a hovel in Kathmandu, that’s all right with me. I don’t give a damn where we live as long as you love me as much as I love you. Even half as much would do,’ she added, beginning to smile. ‘Oh, dear, now my nose is running. Have you got a hanky?’

  Reid produced one and gave it to her, wiping his own face with the back of his hand, his eyes devouring her as if he couldn’t believe she had materialised and was half afraid she would vanish again.