Rachel Lindsay - The Taming of Laura

by Rachel Lindsay

  The days stretched ahead of her, long days that she would be expected to share with Nikolaos' friends and relations. It was surprising he had not yet ordered her to learn Greek! Sighing she began to unbutton her dress.

  At half-past six she went into the drawing-room, her almond green chiffon skirt floating round her as she walked. The Mediterranean cruise had given her a golden tan and it made her eyes look a deeper green, her hair more richly coppered. But she had grown thinner too and her waist could easily have been spanned by a man's hands.

  It was the first thing that Melissa, perched on the edge of the settee, noticed as she came in. "Laura, you look wonderful—but so thin!"

  "Melissa! How lovely to see you. I didn't know you were coming over."

  "I've only looked in for a few minutes. Stephanos is taking me to the theatre and I told him to pick me up here. I wanted to be the first member of the family to welcome you back."

  "Well, you're certainly that! How's your mother and Andreas?"

  "Fine. Everyone's fine."

  Melissa chattered on and Laura watched her. The girl looked infinitely young, her dark hair tumbled round her shoulders, her eyes large and misty with tears. It was strange that during all the time she had known Melissa she had never seen her really happy, except on the one occasion when she had been with Philip Burrows. If only it were possible to talk to Nikolaos about her. Laura bit her lip. But it was out of the question. How could she plead with him to allow his cousin to marry an Englishman when his own marriage to an English girl had failed so disastrously?

  Aware that she did not have Laura's full attention, Melissa clapped her hands. "Penny for your thoughts."

  "I wouldn't dream of selling my thoughts for as little as that!" Laura grinned. "I'm married to a business tycoon now!"

  "Don't tell me Nikolaos taught you business on your honeymoon!" His cousin giggled at the idea. "I'm dying to see him. Where is he?"

  Laura looked vague. "Changing, I think."

  There was a pause, during which Melissa stood up and walked over to the french windows. "I don't suppose you've had a chance to speak to him about Philip and me?"

  "No… No I haven't."

  "Oh Laura, you will, won't you? You promised."

  "I'll do my best but—but it won't be easy."

  "Why? Nikolaos loves you. He'll do anything to make you happy."

  "I tell you it won't be as easy as you think," Laura repeated. "There are many things I can't explain, but please believe I'll do everything in my power to help you. Only don't blame me if I fail."

  Melissa frowned. "Is there something wrong?"

  "Of course not."

  "Yes there is. You've got the same look in your eyes that I see in mine when I stare at myself in the mirror."

  "You're becoming too fanciful," Laura said lightly and was relieved when the door opened and Nikolaos came in.

  His face lit up as he saw his young cousin and he strode over and hugged her, greeting her in a flow of Greek. For a moment they chatted together but as he saw Laura watching, he reverted to English.

  "I'm sorry, darling," he said easily. "I forgot you can't follow us. You'll have to learn Greek."

  Laura could not help laughing. "I thought that was going to be the next step in my transformation."

  "I can't transform a diamond."

  "Because it's too hard?" she retorted and instantly regretted the words as she saw Melissa's expression.

  "Not hard, my darling." Nikolaos came over and tenderly kissed her brow. "But because you are too perfect."

  Looking over his shoulder she saw Melissa relax and marvelled that she and Nikolaos were able to behave like normal newlyweds when they hated each other. Or at least, she amended, when he hated her: at the moment her own feelings for him were too mixed up to bear analysis.

  There was a knock at the door and following on Bingham's heels Stephanos came in; Laura looked at him curiously, wondering if he knew that the girl he was engaged to marry bore no love for him. Just under medium height, slim, dark and olive complexioned, he was a carbon copy of all the other young Greek men who abounded in Nikolaos' life.

  "Welcome back, Mrs. Dimar," he said formally and raised her hand to his lips before turning to speak to Nikolaos.

  Laura met Melissa's eyes and slowly nodded her head. "I'll do what I can," she mouthed and moved away as she saw Nikolaos watching her.

  It was not until the couple had departed for the theatre and dinner over, they were sipping coffee and liqueurs on the terrace, that Nikolaos, sitting relaxed in a garden seat, looked across at her and said: "Come on, Laura, tell me what's on your mind."

  She was startled at his perception. "How did you know there was something?"

  "Intuition isn't a feminine prerogative. You've been nervous all the evening. Has it got to do with Melissa?"

  "As you're so clever," she said tartly, "answer the question yourself."

  "I probably can! She wants to marry Philip Burrows and has delegated you to plead her cause."

  "You're quite right." Laura drew a deep breath. "Why won't you let her marry the man she loves? It surely can't be because Dr. Burrows hasn't any money."

  "It has nothing to do with money. She is too young to know about love. Stephanos is a good boy, he will make her an admirable husband."

  "Must you talk as if you're dealing in ships?" Laura said acidly. "You're talking about a flesh and blood person—a girl who has every right to love and passion——"

  "I hardly think you're qualified to talk about love and passion." With an angry movement he stood up and for a moment she thought he was going to strike her. But he strode past to the drawing-room, returning a few seconds later with a cigar. He resumed his seat and picked up a box of matches. "I suppose I'll have to give you my reasons all over again," he said resignedly. "But I want you to understand that after tonight I don't intend to discuss it any more. Philip is a nice young man but married to him Melissa would lead the life of a G.P.'s wife."

  "What's wrong with that?"

  "Nothing to a girl who's been brought up to understand all that it would entail. But Melissa's been spoilt. She's never washed up a cup in her life. She doesn't know what it means to keep house and shop and mend. Everything has always been done for her."

  "And you intend this to go on? Really Nikolaos, in this day and age don't you think it's rather unnecessary to bring Melissa up like a fairy princess?"

  "Don't despise the luxury you are now beginning to enjoy," he said coldly.

  "Enjoy! You must be mad. I'd give everything I possess to be free of you! Oh why won't you change your mind and let me leave you? There needn't be any scandal————"

  "Be quiet! I've already told you my answer to that. We will part when I say we can, not before." He drew deeply on his cigar. "But we were discussing Melissa, not ourselves."

  "There doesn't seem anything to discuss." Laura's voice was so dejected that he looked up.

  "Try not to judge me so harshly," he said gently. "It isn't only my cousin who'd suffer if she married Philip.

  He would too. What sort of wife will she be when the first flush of love dies? Will she have the staying power to continue in a humdrum existence? Won't she long for parties and beautiful clothes and trips to New York and

  Paris?"

  "Just because she marries Philip she won't become a pauper."

  Nikolaos smiled. "Do you think he's the sort of person to accept my money—because that is what it really means—in order to keep his wife?"

  "No I don't, but I think he loves Melissa too much to let pride stop him from allowing you to help them."

  Nikolaos shrugged. "Be that as it may, I don't intend to give my consent. A marriage between foreigners is bound to crash."

  "You didn't think so when you married me."

  "That was my first mistake. But you showed me very quickly how wrong I was."

  With an exclamation she stood up. "I can see it's impossible to reason with you. Goodnight."


  "Goodnight," he said pleasantly. "Sweet dreams."

  But the dreams Laura had that night were far from sweet and when she awoke in the morning, unrefreshed, she could not remember clearly the nightmares that had haunted her, only that through them all there had been Nikolaos; taunting her, shouting at her, ignoring her: every emotion except love.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  LAURA sat at the Louis XV bureau in the drawing room checking the list of invitations that Nikolaos had given her for the dinner party the following evening. Although most of the names were by now familiar, there was one she did not recognise: Mrs. Irene Ridgeway. There was no Mr. Ridgeway on the list and she put a tick against the name to remind herself to ask Nikolaos where he wanted this guest placed. Her pencil continued down the sheet of paper and when she had finished checking the names with the pile of cards at her side, she looked up and stared through the window at the tall trees, dressed in autumn brown, in the park opposite.

  She was tired of these constant dinner parties, tired of the continual round of entertainment and, above all, tired of trying to occupy her time. Nikolaos' life had been so well run before she came into it that she was simply an extraneous part, of no more use than an ornament.

  She frowned and looked down at the street far below. A nannie was pushing a pram while ahead of her a little girl raced. 'If only I had a child to take care of,' she thought and letting the curtain drop, turned back to the room. How meaningless her life was and how ironic that it should be so, for she had everything most girls dreamed of.

  Taking up the pile of cards she went out of the room and closed die door, wishing she could as easily close the door on memory.

  Nikolaos did not come home for dinner that night and remembering her query about Mrs. Ridgeway, Laura left him a note. In the morning there was a reply written in his characteristically heavy hand: "Put Mrs. Ridgeway on my right, and will you please wear your Balenciaga dress."

  Rebellion stirred in her. But even as she tore up the letter she knew that both his instructions would be carried out.

  At seven-thirty that evening she joined her husband in the drawing room to wait for their guests and could not help thinking how handsome he looked in the black and white of evening clothes. His study of her was equally appraising, for as she came in, his eyes ran impersonally over her slender, rounded body in its sheath of pale yellow satin.

  "Very nice," he commented and from the table at his side picked up a flat leather box. He opened it, disclosing a magnificent emerald and diamond necklace. Laura stared at it, unable to believe it could be real, yet knowing it was. "Come here," he said.

  "I'd rather not put it on."

  "Don't be ridiculous. It's part of the Dimar collection and I wish you to wear it."

  In silence she moved to his side and waited as he stepped behind her and fastened the necklace round her throat. His fingers were cool on the nape of her neck and for a moment she could almost believe they trembled as they touched her skin. But when he faced her again he was as cool and impersonal as ever.

  "Would you like a drink?"

  "No thank you, but I'll have a cigarette."

  He gave her one and she moved over to the fireplace and stood with her back to the mirror.

  "What a strange girl you are," he said suddenly. "You haven't even looked to see whether the necklace becomes you."

  "Would it matter if it didn't? You've asked me to wear it and I must obey you."

  His jaw line hardened. "You have a remarkable ability to destroy any pleasure I might feel in your appearance."

  "You own me," Laura said coolly. "Isn't that enough?"

  His eyes blazed and he took a step forward, stopping short as the drawing-room door opened and Bingham announced the first guest.

  Soon the long drawing room was full of people but it was not until a few minutes before dinner was announced that Mrs. Ridgeway arrived. Laura looked curiously at the tall dark woman in a tight-fitting black dress, no darker than the shiny black hair coiled on the nape of a full white neck. Violet eyes, heavy lidded, shone out of a pale oval face and a wide mouth curved to show surprisingly small teeth.

  "Nikolaos, my dear." She gave him both her hands, her voice low and husky.

  "Irene," he murmured and pressed them to his lips. "You look as lovely as ever. How are you?"

  "The better for seeing you. It's been far too long."

  The woman lapsed into Greek and Laura realised with surprise that she was not English. Involuntarily she moved closer to Nikolaos and Mrs. Ridgeway stopped speaking and looked at her.

  "You must be Laura," she said. "I'm so delighted to meet you."

  Looking into the violet eyes, Laura repressed a shiver. They were cold and hard and for a moment she fanc:ed she saw hatred in them. Yet why should she be hated by someone who was meeting her for the first time?

  "I've known Irene since we were children," Nikolaos intervened. "She left Athens to marry an Englishman."

  "You make me sound like a traitor," Irene Ridgeway said reproachfully, and smiled at Laura. "Nikolaos was always so patriotic I never thought he'd marry anyone but one of his own…" She smiled. "But there, who am I to talk? I was terribly happy with Harry although we were quite unalike." She sighed. "Poor Harry, I can't believe he's dead. It's nearly two months since it happened but I don't believe I'll ever get used to being alone." She dabbed at her eyes with a wisp of handkerchief and then turned and put her hands possessively on Nikolaos' arm. "It's so good to see you. I hope you won't let us drift apart again?"

  Although the words were said lightly, Laura had a strong impression that they were significant, and she was puzzled. There was no doubt her husband's childhood fnendship with Mrs. Ridgeway had blossomed into something deeper during the years, and she wondered whether he had once considered the Greek woman as a wife before she had, as she expressed it, turned traitor and married 'poor Harry'.

  Du^ng dinner Laura was irritably aware of Irene Ridgeway talking animatedly to Nikolaos and there was something so intimate in her gestures, her way of looking at h m, that she seemed to create an invisible barrier between themselves and the rest of the guests. Not that anyone else appeared to notice, for laughter and talk rose high and glancing down the length of the table with its beautiful linen and crystal appointments, the candlelight glowing on the mauve orchids set in silver bowls in front of each guest, Laura felt for the first time a thrill of pride in her role of hostess. She smiled at the elderly man on her right, a smile of such radiance that he caught her hand and raised it to his lips.

  "Privilege of old age," he murmured. "Although it is always permissible to kiss a bride."

  "Hardly a bride," she demurred. "Nikolaos and I have been married four months."

  "You will be a bride until your first child."

  She turned scarlet and the man chuckled. "I'm glad you can still blush. It is an art most modern woman have lost."

  Laura kept a smile on her lips as she listened to h;m but as the evening progressed, her head began to ache and she moved among the guests like an automaton, desperately wishing she could be alone without the need to pretend to an enjoyment she did not feel.

  At last the party ended and Nikolaos wished the last guest goodbye and returned to the drawing room, one hand in the pocket of his jacket, the other holding a cigar. "It was a good party," he said affably.

  "Yes."

  "And the table looked exceptionally beautiful."

  "I thought so too." Inexplicably nervous of him she busied herself emptying ashtrays. "It was a change to have orchids instead of roses. More expensive of course, but then money doesn't matter to you, does it?"

  "No it doesn't. So you might as well stop giving yourself something to do and come and sit down." He took an ashtray from her hand and put it on the table. "We've plenty of people to keep the flat clean."

  "So many people," she said huskily, "that I'm not even needed. I can't bear to live here like this with you. It's killing me. Please let me go. Please!"


  "No!" The word rang out so sharply that she was shocked into silence. "How many times must I tell you that I've no intention of letting you go until I'm ready? Do you understand?"

  All the spirit went out of her and her shoulders drooped. "Yes," she said listlessly. "I understand very well."

  "Good. Then we need not refer to it any more. Now come, I'll give you a drink and that will make you feel better."

  "I don't want anything, thank you." The pain in her head seemed to intensify and she put up her hand and rubbed her temples.

  "You're ill," he said quickly.

  "No—it's my head—it's splitting…"

  The candlelights around her seemed to multiply and she swayed and would have fallen had he not lifted her up bodily in his arms. Muttering softly in Greek, he carried her down the corridor and kicking open the door of her bedroom, laid her gently on the bed.

  Carefully he smoothed the hair away from her damp forehead and unclasped the heavy emerald necklace from her throat. "I'll ring for Maria to undress you."

  "Don't." She spoke with difficulty. "It's too late."

  "Should I undress you then?"

  "No!" Agitated she sat up and saw him watching her, his mouth curved in a cynical smile.

  "It wouldn't be the first time I have seen you undressed," he said pointedly. "It is a picture I will never forget."

  Mortified, she closed her eyes. "Go away," she said in a cold voice. "Go away."

  She was aware of him straightening, then heard him cross the floor and the door close. With a shuddering sigh she turned her head into the pillows and wept. But for whom was she crying — whether for herself or Nikolaos — she did not know.

  During the next few weeks Nikolaos stayed out for dinner on four different occasions. He did not offer any excuse and Laura felt intuitively that he was with Irene Ridgeway. But it was not until Melissa came unexpectedly for tea one afternoon that her suspicions were confirmed.