Maid for Marriage

by Sue Peters

  'Yes, come in a minute. Dee is going to need clothes collecting from home. Can you do the usual?'

  'Of course.' It was a request Betty was well used to from couriers in a hurry. 'Tell me what you want,' she said practically to Dee. 'If I go right away the van driver will be able to deliver your case to Ransom Court almost as soon as you get there yourself.'

  'She won't need the pink winceyette pyjamas,' Luke said, pan-faced, and Dee's own face flamed. She didn't know where to look. What to say. She wanted to disappear from view by the quickest possible route. Most of all she wanted to slay Luke.

  Betty's eyes popped. Bill scowled, and a dozen questions chased one another across his homely features. The chief one was, had he been right, after all, to accept Luke Ransom's offer?

  Dee found her voice. She managed to stammer, 'I haven't...I didn't...I...'

  Her voice trailed into silence. She threw Luke a look that should have reduced him to ashes, and, grabbing Betty urgently by the arm, she hissed, 'Let's go into your office. I'll write out the things I need in there.'

  Anything to get away from Bill's reproachful gaze and Luke's sardonic look. She stumbled out on legs that didn't seem to belong to her, and when she slammed the outer office door behind them Betty quizzed with a mischievous grin, 'You look as if you need a stiff drink more than clothes right now.'

  Dee let out her pent-up breath in a rush. 'Now I know what it feels like to want to commit murder.'

  'Start writing your list instead,' Betty advised, and asked interestedly, 'What's all this about pink winceyette pyjamas? I didn't know you had any.'

  'It's a long story. I'll tell you some time.' Dee forced her voice to speak normally. 'There's something else I need, more than clothes. More, even, than a stiff drink.' She looked appealingly at Betty. 'When you go home will you try to get hold of Mary?' Mary was their faithful daily, and could be relied upon as an ally in times of stress. 'Ask her to waylay any newspapers,' Dee begged, 'before the family have a chance to get hold of them. Get her to fillet out any with my photograph in them, will you? It won't delay the kill, but at least it will keep the hounds off my trail for a bit longer. I've got enough to handle at the moment with this exhibition, without having to cope with family curiosity on top.'

  Any more pressure and she would scream, she promised herself. Out loud she explained to Betty, who laughed, 'Why bother to waylay the photographs? Your mother will be over the moon to see her last unmarried daughter side by side with a world-famous antiques dealer.'

  'If she is she'll be the only one,' Dee assured her grimly.

  'Why? Most girls wouldn't say no to being photographed with Luke Ransom. You must admit, he's dishy, as well as being rich. It isn't often you get both in one package, and a young one at that.'

  'I'm not most girls. I intend to stay solo, so don't run away with any wild ideas.'

  'Solo. So lonely,' Betty quipped, only half joking.

  Recently divorced, Betty should know. Dee bit back her flippant rejoinder. The secretary's experience merely served to reinforce her own resolution, and to save herself from having to answer she turned her attention to writing the list, but the secretary persisted, 'It's lover-boy out there who might be getting wild ideas, not me.'

  'He's not lover-boy,' Dee gritted. 'At least, not so far as I'm concerned. And, if he does get any wild ideas, I'll slap them down fast.'

  She administered the first verbal slap when she and Luke were en route to Ransom Court an hour or so later. 'What on earth made you say such a thing to Betty?' she demanded indignantly.

  'What about?'

  'You know full well what about. Winceyette pyjamas.'

  Luke shrugged. 'It seemed logical. You won't need warm whatnots at Ransom Court, no matter what our chatty passenger said on the plane. My home has full central heating,' he claimed virtuously, with the air of a hotel proprietor advertising five-star facilities.

  'Oh, most logical,' Dee agreed sarcastically.

  That was not his reason, and Luke knew it. He had said it in order to disconcert her, enjoying his power to do so, and it did nothing for her confidence to know that he had, once again, succeeded.

  As before, Luke drove in silence, and Dee allowed it to remain unbroken. Not for the first time in his company she felt angry, frustrated, and curiously helpless, with Luke firmly in the driving seat, and herself, as a passenger, obliged to go along with wherever he chose to lead.

  He steered the car through the evening traffic build-up with smooth efficiency, decanted it on to the motorway, where its power made light of the miles, and unconsciously Dee began to relax, soothed by the gentle motion of travel, so that when Luke finally turned off on to quiet country lanes, slowed the speed to a gentle cruise, and remarked idly, 'Do you know the Chiltern Hills at all?' it was easier than she'd expected to answer him casually.

  'I've only got a passing acquaintance with them.'

  The countryside through which they were passing was neutral ground, and she stepped on to it gratefully, glad to give her sorely taxed patience a rest. Getting angry with Luke, she discovered, was as wearing as it was unprofitable. To keep it at bay she enlarged, 'Mostly I've just driven through the Chilterns on my way to somewhere else. It's chair-making country, isn't it? All those beech trees...'

  'Famous for them,' Luke confirmed. 'You've come at the best time of the year to explore the area. You should see a little of it while you're here. The colours of the woods are lovely in the autumn.'

  With luck, Dee hoped, she would be kept much too busy at the exhibition to have any time to explore. She didn't relish the prospect of Luke acting as her guide. She answered non-committally, 'The colours are magnificent.'

  Was it because she had never before caught the beech woods at their moment of peak autumn glory? Or was it because Luke was sitting beside her that each vivid colour seemed to take on an extra glow?

  The thought was a warning, and, struggling with its implications, Dee was unprepared for what was to follow. The car breasted a rise, and she felt it slow down. She went rigid. Surely Luke wasn't so corny as to claim to have run out of petrol? She sent him a hostile look, but he remained relaxed in his seat, and merely gestured forward with his hand.

  'Ransom Court,' he said.

  Dee turned her head, and followed the direction in which he pointed, and didn't answer. For the moment she couldn't. The house lay below them, resting in a fold of the hill, and sheltered by thickly hung beech woods, which were clothed in their fiery autumn garment of orange and yellow and red. Water shimmered, a circle of silver surrounding the house itself.

  The dipping sun turned the dying leaves to fire. It glanced off the water, gilded crazily corkscrew chimneys, and rested benignly on old walls, lighting up their skeleton beams, and warmly coloured herringbone-patterned brickwork.

  Dee drew in a deep breath of pure pleasure. Ransom Court was a jewel, in a setting of gold. Unexpected tears stung her eyes as they drank in the scene for long moments before, 'How can you bear to go away, to travel so much, and leave all this behind?' she breathed.

  The man sitting beside her slanted her a long look, but Dee was too fixated by the scene in front of her to notice. He took some time to frame his answer, and when he did it came in a quiet, reflective tone.

  'I suppose because I know it's always here to come back to.'

  Dee turned her head then, and met his look, and pulled her eyes away again quickly. So the globe-trotting tycoon was human enough to need a base. A home. She twisted this new piece of the jigsaw round in her mind for a moment or two, and then let it rest there, uncertain as yet where it would fit. It needed another piece to lock into. Mari? Unconsciously she shook her head, as if to shake the name out of her mind, and asked, 'It's Tudor, isn't it?'

  'Mostly, with bits of other periods added on here and there. Some of it is even older. Fortunately it came through the war intact.' He grimaced. 'My ancestors would arise in wrath if anyone had suggested using modern materials, like concrete, to repair any dam
age.'

  Ancestors meant generations of the same family living in the same house. Getting married, giving birth, dying. Dee examined the idea dispassionately, surprised to find that it held a curious appeal so far alien to her freedom-loving mind. Perhaps places like Ransom Court did that to you. At least Luke's home was not merely a status symbol, acquired by the nouveau riche.

  She slotted the piece of jigsaw into place, and wondered about Luke's parents. As if he had read her thoughts, he handed her the next piece unasked.

  'These days my parents live in the dower house. After my father retired the court became too large for them, and, as I need space to entertain the occasional client, I took it over. The arrangement works very well.'

  Luke needed space, and a suitably exotic setting. His clients were drawn from the wealthy and the influential world-wide, as would be those who attended the coming exhibition.

  In spite of herself, Dee felt an urge to learn more about her enigmatic companion, who guarded his privacy so successfully. She despised her own curiosity, but the urge was too strong, and it made her send out a leading, 'It's unusual to see a real moat these days. They have mostly all been drained and filled in.'

  'The moat is an added security measure. Basic, but very effective. Even the most dedicated thief hesitates to get his feet wet. When the drawbridge is raised there is no other way into the court.'

  The water in the moat was wide, and dark, and deep, and would wet more than the feet of any would-be intruder. Dee gave an involuntary shiver, which was nothing to do with her light clothing, because the car was comfortably warm.

  Sheer walls rose from the water, as thick and unscaleable as the barrier which Luke erected round his private life, and which, until the airport photograph, not even the Press had managed to penetrate.

  Dee found this glimpse into his inner sanctum both fascinating and disturbing. She stirred restlessly as Luke quit the car and strode towards two strong-looking metal uprights which supported the bridge. He unlocked a control panel in the nearest upright, and manipulated some buttons in what was obviously a pre-arranged code, making it plain that the watery deterrent was merely a back-up to a modern, and highly efficient, electronic security alarm system.

  She instinctively ducked, and recovered herself quickly with an embarrassed, 'Silly of me!' as the huge drawbridge began to descend over the water, and Luke smiled as he rejoined her and slid back behind the steering-wheel.

  'It usually has that effect upon people the first time.'

  Had it had that effect upon Mari?

  Dee was left with no time in which to speculate. The drawbridge closed behind them automatically as soon as they reached the other side. And then Luke's hand cupped her elbow, steering her under an impressive coat of arms above a high studded doorway, and into a hall, where a bright log fire burned in a stone grate, and a bowl of chrysanthemums rivalled the vivid colours of the beech trees outside.

  A motherly looking middle-aged woman hurried across the hall to meet them. 'It's good to have you home, Mr Luke.'

  'It's good to be home, Kate.' Luke folded her in his arms and kissed her with an affection that told Dee that the woman, who she later learned had been Luke's nurse and was now his housekeeper, was no longer a servant, but a valued member of his family.

  'I've turned on the heating, like you said,' the housekeeper told him. 'All the bedrooms are nice and warm.'

  No need for winceyette pyjamas.

  Instant panic struck Dee. Luke could not, must not repeat his infamy here, in front of his housekeeper. If he did she would never forgive him. She would walk out, and leave him flat to cope with the exhibition himself, no matter what Bill said.

  And then she remembered. The drawbridge was closed, and there was no way back across the moat without it, and she didn't know the combination of buttons to make it work. By pulling up the drawbridge Luke had effectively sealed off any avenue of escape.

  She sent him a hunted look, read in his eyes the derision that saw her fear, and jeered at it, and cruelly kept her hanging over a precipice of uncertainty, until Kate pulled her back on to terra firma with a brisk, 'I'll take you up to your room now, miss. Dinner will be in half an hour. I expect you'll be glad to rest after your long journey.' She chatted amiably on the way upstairs. 'Travelling all that way must be exhausting.'

  Dee was well used to travelling. The miles did not exhaust her. Holding her own against Luke did.

  She explained to Kate about her lack of luggage, and wondered anxiously, 'How will the van driver get in when he comes? The drawbridge is closed.'

  Perhaps, in spite of what Luke had said, there was a back entrance that was kept permanently open? Kate dashed her rising hope with a simple, 'He'll ring the bell.'

  Dee's anxiety evaporated on a laugh. 'You make it sound like a suburban semi.'

  'Cottage or castle, they all have to be run along the same lines,' the housekeeper returned practically, and opened a door on the wide landing. 'I've put you in this room, miss. You'll find plenty of hanging space for your clothes when your case arrives. Is there anything you need right away?' she asked kindly. 'If not, I'll leave you to freshen up, while I go down and cast my eye on how the dinner is coming along.'

  She paused with her hand on the door-knob. 'Oh, by the way, I hope you don't mind—there are a couple of things still left in the one wardrobe. I've had to leave them there because all the other rooms will be occupied by gentlemen, or couples, while the exhibition is running. We've got a full house,' she smiled, 'and I thought, you being a lady on your own...'

  Solo. So lonely.

  Dee answered, 'Of course I don't mind,' and wondered as she slid her arms out of her coat, and opened the wardrobe door, what secrets it was about to reveal.

  Her eyes widened on the sophisticated black lace neglige. Its gossamer delicacy, banded together by ribbon and minuscule pieces of pure silk sewn in at strategic places, dragged an admiring, 'Wow!' from her lips.

  Not enough to keep a body warm...

  But, speaking eloquently of that body being young, and lovely, and desirable... Dee grinned. No wonder the housekeeper didn't want it left in one of the other rooms. Its presence was enough to give rise to all sorts of comments and questions. The obvious one tracked across her own mind.

  Who owned such diaphanous garments?

  Whoever they belonged to obviously loved ribbon and lace. Loved life, and laughter—and love? Luke's love?

  Dee's grin faded as she recalled his indulgent smile, the way his stern features had softened when he'd spoken a girl's name.

  Mari.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Where were all the others?

  Where were the gentlemen Kate had mentioned? And the couples who were supposed to be occupying the other bedrooms? The dinner table was laid for two. Dee advanced into the dining-room on feet that suddenly faltered with an urgent desire to turn and run the other way.

  Before they had time to put her craven wish into action Luke's tall figure detached itself from the stone balustrade of a balcony leading off the dining-room and overlooking the moat and the darkening sweep of fields and woods beyond.

  He strolled towards her, his keen ears alerted to her presence by her light footfall on the parquet flooring.

  'Are you cold?' he enquired. 'I'll shut the doors.'

  He drew the double french windows to behind him, and Dee allowed the assumption to pass. It suited her to let Luke think it was cold, and not nerves, that caused her involuntary shiver.

  She made a small indication towards the table with her hand. 'I thought there would be more of us. Kate said ‑'

  'The others aren't coming until tomorrow. A day before the exhibition opens is all they should need to set up their stands.'

  If a day was all that Luke considered necessary for the others, why not for herself? Why did he have to drag her here on a flimsy pretext, denying her the respite she so sorely needed? Her legs folded obediently as he drew out a chair for her at the table, glad to abando
n their duties, and Dee viewed the prospect of the coming evening with Luke with growing dismay.

  Could she, even now, make some excuse to go back with the van driver when he came, and return with the other people in the morning? Then there would be lots of company. Safe, reassuring company, to take off the edge of Luke's disturbing charisma, the more potent because she was under his roof, in his home, and knew that there was no escape.

  Her mind sought for an excuse and failed, as it had done before, to find one that would sound plausible enough to satisfy her host, and, feeling trapped, she turned her reluctant attention to the meal.

  Kate bustled in and out, serving dishes that would have done credit to a West End chef, but Dee was in no mood to appreciate food. The housekeeper tut-tutted over her small helpings.

  'You're not eating enough to keep a bird alive. You need more than that after a long day of travelling.'

  'I'll get my appetite back by tomorrow. I'm too tired now. Although the food is delicious.'

  Dee hoped silently that her excuse would serve to remove her from Luke's company the moment the meal was over. In the presence of his housekeeper he kept the conversation general, talking easily about the attractions of the surrounding area.

  'We must visit Abinger Hammer. You'll like the village, and the children will enjoy seeing the clock with the figure of the smith on it.'

  The moonlit scene beyond the balcony lured them outside after the meal was over. 'Will you be warm enough?' Luke enquired, and Dee answered, 'I'll put on my jacket,' reluctant to miss out on this panacea for her jangled nerves.

  Weariness was no longer just an excuse. It homed in on her, a drug disarming her defences, and she leaned her arms along the parapet with a sigh, and gazed down into the quiet water below.

  Luke came to lean beside her and she tensed, but, although he came close, their arms did not touch, and she relaxed again. Stone did not conduct electricity, she thought without humour, and fixed her attention on a pair of swans that drifted below them, gliding by with scarcely a ripple towards a thick bed of reeds, which offered them shelter for the night.