by Sara Craven
Though not a proper wife, she hastily amended. She would meet Silas tonight and sort out any and all loose ends. They would no doubt agree on a wedding date, then it would be that half-hour in front of a registrar, and that should be it.
With so much whirling around in her head she only just remembered that she had promised to ring Rupert Thomas, who owned the art gallery where she helped out on Tuesdays.
‘Tell me you’re coming in tomorrow,’ he pleaded. And, prone to exaggeration, ‘I missed you dreadfully when you didn’t come in last Tuesday.’
Rupert was forty, and had been married twice but was currently single. He was a good friend. ‘I’ll come in tomorrow,’ she agreed. ‘How’s business?’
‘Terrible, terrible!’ he replied, but it always was, according to Rupert, so there was nothing new there. They chatted for a few minutes, then Colly ended the call.
She supposed she should go and see about getting something to eat, but did not fancy another of Nanette’s meanspirited comments should she be around.
She did bump into her, though, when, in ample time to get to the address Silas had given her by nine, she left her room. ‘Where are you going?’ Nanette demanded.
In truth, Colly was finding her more than a little tedious, and was tempted to tell her to mind her own business. But politeness cost nothing, and this woman had brightened the last few years of her father’s life—even if she had not stayed true to him.
‘I’m going to take a look at an apartment,’ she replied, and felt quite pleased to see that Nanette looked more taken aback by that than she would have done had she told her to mind her own business. But she was not taken aback for long, and was soon there with another of her spleenish remarks.
‘I hope for your sake it will be vacant by Saturday!’
Saturday! Colly left her home unhappily aware it could no longer be called a home. She thought of her mother and could have wept. It had all been so different when she had been alive. So much love…
Colly put love out of her mind. She was getting married without love. Silas was too, and that suited her fine. Which reflection brought a previously unthought question to mind. Silas had said they would have matters to discuss. And he was right there!
Until now she had not thought there would be so very much for them to discuss. But, for a start, what happened if one of them fell in love with someone? And how would they go on about a divorce? She supposed that that was the way their marriage would end—in divorce—with neither side battered or bruised by the experience. But what if Silas fell in love with someone and wanted out? What then?
Most oddly, she experienced a small niggle of impatience with the thought that he might fall in love with someone. Odd really was the word for it, she mused as she pulled up outside a newish-looking apartment block. She most certainly was not interested in him herself!
Colly was the first to arrive. She stayed in her car and observed the smart entrance to the building. It seemed incredible that she might soon be moving in here, but so far she liked what she saw.
A short while later a long sleek car pulled alongside, and as her heart suddenly missed a beat she recognised Silas Livingstone behind the steering-wheel so her insides joined in and did a churn.
Leaving her car, she went with him, waiting while he unlocked the entrance door. The apartment block was over three floors; the apartment owned by his grandfather was on the ground floor.
‘It’s lovely!’ she exclaimed as Silas took her from room to room. It was small, as he had said, but only in that it consisted of just one bedroom, a sitting room-cum-dining room, a bathroom and a kitchen. All the rooms were otherwise spacious. Colly came from a very nice home herself, but had nothing to complain about in this her new home.
‘Any of the furniture you can’t live with can be put into storage,’ Silas offered when they returned to the sitting room.
‘Everything’s fine,’ she responded. Some of the furniture was antique, and beautiful, though there were some very pleasing modern pieces too.
‘If you want to, bring some of your own furniture,’ he suggested. ‘I should like you to feel at home here.’
‘That’s kind of you,’ Colly replied, smiling at him while thinking him most considerate. Without doubt the man had a great deal of charm. ‘But I’m quite happy with the apartment the way it is.’ She forbore to tell him that Nanette would probably call the police if she saw one stick of her inheritance making its way into any furniture van.
Silas took her at her word and handed the keys to the apartment over to her. ‘Move in as soon as you like,’ he instructed.
‘You don’t think we should stand in front of that registrar first?’ she questioned, but could not deny that she felt pleased at this show of his trust in her.
‘There seems little point in you spending a couple of weeks in some hotel when this place could benefit from someone living in it. Shall we sit down?’ he suggested.
‘I’m missing something?’ she queried, confessing, ‘Where does “hotel” come into it?’
‘It doesn’t,’ he answered, and began to enlighten her into the working ways of his mind. ‘Ellen has been able to shunt my diary around in order for me to have some time off tomorrow.’
‘Yes?’ Colly murmured, supposing that what he was talking about would become clearer.
‘You’re free tomorrow morning?’ he asked.
‘I promised Rupert I’d—’
‘Rupert?’ Silas cut in, his expression stern.
‘It’s not a problem,’ she replied. ‘Rupert owns the art gallery I help out in on Tuesdays. I said I’d be there tomorrow, but if I need to I can ring and cancel.’
‘Cancel!’ Silas instructed bluntly.
What happened to charm! ‘Because…?’ she queried stiffly.
‘Because we both need to attend to make arrangements for the nuptials.’
‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, a little bit startled. She had already formed an opinion that Silas Livingstone was a ‘have it done by yesterday’ kind of man. But—and she supposed she had not got around to thinking about it too much—she had rather thought their marriage would happen some time. By the sound of it he was keeping to that ‘the sooner the better’ comment. ‘What time do you…?’
‘I’ll call for you at ten-twenty. You’ll need either your birth certificate or your passport.’
‘Er—I’ll be ready. Um—when were you thinking of…?’
‘Doing the deed?’
That was one way of putting it. ‘You don’t want to delay, by the sound of it?’
‘No point,’ he agreed. ‘Though, since we apparently have to wait fifteen clear days after tomorrow, and a non-work day would suit me best, I’d suggest we marry two weeks on Saturday.’ He looked at her questioningly.
‘I’ve no objection to that,’ she agreed faintly. His remark with regard to her not spending a couple of weeks in some hotel was starting to make sense. What he had been saying was that, since she would be without a roof over her head come the weekend, she might as well move in straight away rather than spend time in a hotel prior to their marriage.
‘Good,’ he said.
She started to feel a little panicky. ‘This marriage…’ she said in a rush. Though when she saw that she had his full attention had difficulty in continuing.
‘This marriage?’ he asked.
This was absurd. Spit it out, Colly, she fumed, irritated with herself. ‘It wouldn’t…I mean, I wouldn’t have to—er—do anything—er—else?’
‘Anything else?’
Oh, surely he wasn’t that obtuse! For a moment she hated him that he was making her spell it out. ‘Live with you—I mean.’
‘You have your own apartment,’ he replied urbanely, and she felt like boxing his ears.
‘You said you occasionally spend a night here.’ She dug her heels in stubbornly. She needed it all cut and dried now, and could not leave any question unanswered. ‘And, while you may have given me a set of keys, I don’t dou
bt that you still have a spare set.’
‘True.’ He did not deny it.
‘Well…’ She could feel herself going pink, but it had to be said. ‘I wouldn’t want anything—er—physical between—’
‘You’re blushing,’ he interrupted, seeming fascinated at the tide of colour that flowed to her face.
And that annoyed her. ‘I mean it!’ she said stubbornly. ‘I don’t want a husband—’ She broke off, looked at him, and everything suddenly righted itself in her head and settled. ‘And you don’t want a wife,’ she ended, it being plain to her then that ‘anything physical’ was way off his agenda.
‘You obviously needed to work that through,’ he remarked casually.
She began to feel hot all over that she had ever brought the subject up. ‘You’re sure you need to do this?’ she questioned hurriedly to cover her embarrassment. And, when he looked unsmiling at her, ‘I mean—’ she glanced from him and around the graciously appointed room ‘—I seem to be doing very well out of this.’
He nodded. ‘Drastic circumstances call for drastic measures.’ She had known that he would not be taking this ‘drastic’ action if he could find some other way out. And while drastic action was not very flattering to her, it was also fine by Colly. It was the same for her too. Her impending homelessness, her joblessness, her inability to earn sufficient to make her independent, made drastic action the only way possible for her too. ‘I know my father,’ Silas went on. ‘Unless he was absolutely certain that my grandfather meant every word rather than cause me disquiet my father would have kept their conversation strictly to himself. You,’ Silas said, looking straight into her green eyes, ‘are my insurance.’
She looked away, uncertain how she felt about that. But considering all that had gone on, all that would go on, she realised that now was not the time to get picky because, not dressing it up, her intended was telling it as it was. Her intended! Oh, heavens!
Then she recalled how earlier that evening she had pondered on the question of their divorce. But when she looked at him it was to see he was taking out a card and handing it to her. ‘My home address and phone number,’ he informed her. ‘I cannot see a situation arising when you’d need either, but—’
‘I can,’ she interrupted.
‘You can?’ He was looking stern again, whether because he did not care to be interrupted or because he was not too happy that she might have a complication that would see her wanting to phone him every five minutes, Colly could not tell.
‘We’ve discussed the legal aspects of—um—what we’re about.’ Ridiculously, the words ‘our marriage’ stuck in her throat. ‘But what about at the end of it?’
‘End of it?’
There he was again, making her spell it out! ‘Divorce. What—?’
His expression darkened. ‘They’ll be no divorce!’ Silas stated harshly.
‘No divorce?’ It was her turn to echo his words this time.
Silas shook his head. ‘My grandfather has very old-fashioned views on the sanctity of marriage. To him divorce is a dirty word. I have no idea of how he intends to word his new will, but I can be certain, from what I know of him, that there will be a clause in there somewhere to the effect that should any such marriage I have contracted end in divorce prior to his demise—Kit’s marriage too for that matter—then the other cousin inherits the shares.’
‘He’s got you pretty well sewn up, hasn’t he?’ she commented.
‘He has,’ Silas admitted. ‘And I resent it.’
‘Er—you’re not going to tell him you’re married—when you are?’
‘Hell, no!’ Silas said forthrightly.
‘Because you’re—aggrieved with him?’
Silas shook his head slightly, though owned, ‘A bit of that, perhaps, but mainly because he would want to meet my bride.’
‘Oh, grief. I hadn’t thought of that!’ Colly exclaimed, mentally backing away fast from the very idea.
Silas favoured her with one of his rare smiles. ‘While I know little about you, Colly, other than using my instincts, from what I do know about you I’d say you won’t be telling anyone of our marriage either.’
‘For my part, there’s no one who needs to know,’ she answered. He really had quite a superb mouth when he smiled. ‘Um—shall we keep it between our two selves, then?’ she asked. Good heavens, what was the matter with her? Abruptly she switched her gaze from his mouth to his eyes.
He gave a small nod. ‘I may have to give my father some kind of hint that he has no need to worry. But you can rely absolutely on my discretion.’
‘I’m sure,’ she murmured. And from nowhere the words came rushing from her mouth. ‘What if we marry but you fall in love with someone?’ She had his full attention, and felt a touch awkward, but rushed on, ‘What if you want to marry someone else?’
‘I won’t.’
‘How do you know?’ she exclaimed, not a little amazed by the confidence in his statement.
‘She’d have to be more than a bit extra-special for me to think so much of her that I’d be prepared to divorce you and so risk my inheritance going to my cousin.’
‘You don’t know anyone—er—that extra-special?’ Colly found herself enquiring.
His mouth quirked upwards. ‘She doesn’t exist,’ he returned pleasantly.
Colly mulled that over for a moment, then concluded, ‘I’ll marry you, because it suits us both, but I think we should have some sort of time limit.’
‘You think you may fall in love and want to marry elsewhere?’ he demanded, every bit as though he thought she was deceiving him—and that was before they started.
‘No!’ she denied hotly, her green eyes sparking at this hint he thought she might not be being absolutely honest with him. ‘I’ve told you. I’m more interested in making a career for myself than in matrimony. I just—just need to cover all bases, all eventualities, that’s all. And I—I think it’s best to have these matters sorted out now, rather than on the registry office steps in a couple of weeks’ time.’ She ran out of breath, and owned to not being too enamoured that he had turned her question about him and his love-life around and fired it back at her.
Silas stared at her, his gaze on the spirited look of her, his glance slipping briefly to her mouth before he fixed on her eyes once more. Then he told her seriously, ‘I’m afraid I cannot agree to any time limit in the length of our marriage,’ explaining, ‘To do so would be to speculate on my grandfather’s demise, and that is abhorrent to me.’
‘Oh, I couldn’t agree more,’ she said impulsively, suddenly wondering why it had been important to her anyway—Silas had more or less stated that he would not want to divorce during his grandfather’s remaining years. ‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised. ‘It was insensitive of me to push the issue.’
Silas looked at her contemplatively. ‘Do you know?’ he began a moment later. ‘I do believe I’m getting me a very nice wife.’ Colly could only look at him, but at once she realised that there was absolutely nothing intimate or anything for her to worry about in his remark when, in the same breath, and as if to take anything personal out of what he had said, he followed up with, ‘You’ll be dating, I expect, during our marriage?’
Her lips twitched. ‘You’re saying that you won’t?’ she bounced back at him. And, impossibly, they both laughed.
‘That seems to be everything, I think,’ he said a few seconds later. ‘Unless there’s anything else you’d like to ask?’ She shook her head, finding that she enjoyed sharing laughter with him. ‘Then I’ll just show you where to garage your car, and we’ll be off.’
Silas Livingstone was in her head the whole of the way home. He was still there when she went in and searched around in the drawer where personal papers were kept for her birth certificate.
‘What are you nosing around in here for?’ Nanette asked on coming into the study and seeing her with a rolled up piece of paper in her hand. ‘What have you got there?’
‘Nothing that bel
ongs to you,’ Colly replied evenly. And she realised that she did not have to put up with this woman for very much longer, that, in fact, now that she already had the keys to her new abode in her bag, she could move out tomorrow if she cared to. ‘Since I shall soon be living elsewhere, I’m taking papers personal to me with me.’ With that she escaped to her room.
Colly was about to go to the drawing room to wait and watch for Silas the next morning when she belatedly remembered that she had not telephoned Rupert. She was not surprised she had forgotten. The fact that she was going to marry Silas Livingstone two weeks on Saturday had kept her thoughts elsewhere. But Rupert would have expected her at the gallery twenty minutes ago.
She was on the hall phone to Rupert when her housecoated stepmother floated past on her way to fix herself a cup of coffee. But while Colly was attempting to console Rupert—all ‘his’ women were against him, apparently, and his latest lady-love had last night dumped him—the doorbell rang.
‘I’m sorry about that, Rupert,’ Colly said, wanting to get to the front door before Nanette got there first. ‘But I’ll…’
Too late. Nanette was there. Colly heard her delighted coo of surprise, and was not listening at all to what Rupert was bending her ear with as Nanette invited Silas into the house.
‘All I said to her,’ Rupert was complaining, ‘was that…’
Nanette took Silas into the drawing room and closed the door.
‘I’m sorry, Rupert, I really must go. I have some business to attend to, but it shouldn’t take me too long.’
‘You liked her, didn’t you?’
Meriel? He must be referring to his dumper. ‘She was very nice. Look, Rupert, I must dash. I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier, but…’
It seemed to be all of five minutes before she was able to put down the phone and hurry to the elegant drawing room, where Nanette was acting out the sad, but available, widow.
‘Here you are,’ she trilled sweetly as Silas got to his feet. ‘You forgot to mention that Silas was calling.’