by Anne Hampson
‘On the contrary, you’ve come at a most opportune moment,’ commented Liz in terse emphatic tones. ‘You can discuss the matter with Vivien - in public.’
He threw her a sidelong glance, it stripped her insolently and her nostrils quivered.
‘In public, eh?’ He looked around. ‘What have we here—?’ A careless gesture of his hand embraced the other silent three. ‘A deaf and dumb school?’
Liz gritted her teeth.
‘They’re not concerned in this.’
‘They all stand to lose their home - and a nice fat legacy.’
‘Don’t!’ shrieked Aunt Rose, jerking up in her chair and then flopping back again. ‘Poverty at my age - Oh, woe is me - woe is me!’
Nigel looked at her as if she were slightly deranged, as well he might, seeing as she was now rocking to and fro, still muttering those last words despairingly to herself.
‘Nigel,’ whispered Vivien entreatingly, ‘are you on my side?’ So pathetic she looked, and frail, and a smile actually appeared to soften the harshness of that thin half- sneering mouth. He ignored her question though, and said,
‘You’re in love with someone else—? Yes, I stood in the hall a moment or two, so I did gather that you now desire to marry for love.’
‘She is marrying,’ interposed Liz softly, ‘for money.’
Nigel frowned darkly at her.
‘Do you mind keeping out of this?’ he snapped authoritatively, and Liz’s eyes flashed fire. But she was extremely puzzled by the man’s unconcern, and she said, watching him intently,
‘You also stand to lose a fortune if our families are not united by marriage. Don’t you care about losing all your money?’
‘As I don’t keep all my eggs in one basket I shan’t be losing all my money.’ He paused a moment, and a sudden frown became fixed upon his brow. ‘Nevertheless, I stand to lose a considerable sum, an eventuality which impelled me to come over and see what could be done. Vivien, couldn’t you possibly marry Arthur? I must own that I do understand your aversion, but if you don’t marry him you yourself will lose your share, which I’m sure you know is almost as considerable as my own.’
‘I don’t care about the money. I want to marry for love.’ Tears stood on her lashes again and Nigel’s eyes softened momentarily.
‘Have you ever heard of such nonsense?’ demanded Aunt Rose of no one in particular. ‘Marrying for love!’
‘It does seem a rather antiquated idea,’ agreed Nigel with a yawn. ‘Must you marry for love, child?’
‘I’ve said so - many times.’ She looked up at him from under fluttering lashes. ‘I’m sorry ... very sorry ...’
Liz uttered an exasperated sigh. For the first time in her life she was beaten, and in her fury and frustration she directed her invective against those who were dead.
‘Idiots, both of them! Love and goodwill; forgiveness and the burying of antagonism, as that stupid great-grandfather of mine termed it—’
‘Now, Liz, none of that! My husband was a devout and pious man. He made that will with the best of intentions.’
Liz had not the patience to comment and a silence fell on the room. Her great-grandfather and Nigel’s great-grandfather on his mother’s side had quarrelled when at school, and for over forty years had not spoken to one another. Then Liz’s great-grandfather had been persuaded to join the Pious Fellowship of Friends whose slogan was, ‘Forgiveness is your sure passport to heaven,’ and as old Archibald had lived a far from blameless life he naturally suffered deep concern regarding his passport to heaven. And so he became a member, only to find that his old enemy was also desirous of journeying safely to heaven. The consequence was that the hatchet was buried and for the last few years of their lives the two men were staunch friends. But during those previous years the younger members of both families had formed their own barriers. Not that it mattered, for they rarely came into contact with one another. However, to the two recruits to the Fellowship this state of affairs seemed altogether wrong. Moreover, should they be blamed by the High Council for the animosity existing between the two families, they might not have their passports stamped after all.
There was only one thing to be done, declared the administrator of the Fellowship on being consulted by the two. They must bring about a reconciliation between their families, and the simplest way was for them to be united by marriage.
Consternation broke out when on the death of Archibald the will was read, but of course things remained as they were until the death of Septimus a year later.
‘You’ll have to marry Arthur,’ Liz had instantly declared, and with her customary submissiveness towards the stronger sister who, although only two years her senior, had always been able to dominate her, Vivien offered no resistance. Arthur too, was agreeable, having no wish to lose a vast fortune by acting contrary to his great-grandfather’s wishes.
The marriage was arranged and about to go through without a hitch when, to the amazement of all concerned, Vivien came in one day saying she had met someone else and intended marrying him.
‘Both families will be bankrupt!’ said Liz unbelievingly. ‘All our money going to the Fellowship! No, my girl, you’ll do as you’re told and marry Arthur.’
As far as Liz was concerned that ended the matter, but Vivien and Phil met in secret, Vivien not having sufficient courage to break the engagement, so great was her fear of Liz. But at last the secret could be kept no longer, for the wedding must take place within the next five weeks. And so the showdown occurred, with Liz pacing the floor like a raging lion, repeating her warnings and threats which, to her great chagrin, resulted merely in reducing Vivien to tears but certainly not to submission.
‘You’ve just said you didn’t mention your change of heart to Arthur.’ Liz turned to Vivien at last, eyeing her curiously.
‘That’s true, I didn’t, but we did quarrel, and he’s acted strangely once or twice recently, as if sensing that there was something wrong.’ Vivien tilted her face to look up at Nigel. ‘He must have guessed - and sent for you?’
‘That’s right, he did guess you wished to break the engagement. I flew over this morning and Arthur informed me you’d both be at the village fair, so I had my lunch with him and then went on to this fair.’ He turned his face to Liz as he spoke and she found to her annoyance that she could not suppress the flush which rose to her cheeks at the mockery she saw there. In turn, her blush brought a sardonic twist to his lips and her small fists clenched. Liz would dearly have loved to strike him a vicious and wounding blow. ‘After inquiring around I eventually discovered your sister,’ he went on to inform Vivien. ‘But I couldn’t find you.’
‘I was in the marquee, judging the Bonny Babies.’
His lips quivered, but he said gravely, ‘An entertainment I missed. How very disappointing.’
Liz looked sharply at him, but his face was now expressionless. Had he a sense of humour? she wondered, noticing that Vivien was also looking at him, uncertainty in her eyes.
‘I think you’re laughing at me,’ she murmured, lowering her head to hide her embarrassment.
‘Indeed, no,’ he denied in the same grave tones. ‘I’m only sorry I missed this - er - Bonny Baby competition—’
‘Can we forget the Bonny Babies and return to the important matter of Vivien’s marriage?’ intervened Uncle Oliver testily. ‘This is no time for frivolities, sir! Are we all to be reduced to penury, or is it in your power to do something with that obstinate, selfish girl?’
‘No one can do anything with me!’ flashed Vivien, seeming to have taken courage all at once from Nigel’s presence. ‘I don’t care about my personal losses, and as for you - you’ll all have to go into an old folks’ home—’
‘A home?’ cried Aunt Rose. ‘Oh, no-no - no!’
‘Rose, stop that screaming,’ rasped Great-Gran. ‘I’ve dropped a stitch and I’ll never be able to pick it up. Liz, do it for me!’
Liz’s teeth snapped together, but she went over to the old w
oman and took the knitting from her. It was several minutes before she managed to rectify Great-Gran’s mistake.
‘There you are. Now be more careful ...’ Liz tailed off, aware of Nigel’s gaze upon her. Straightening up, she looked directly at him ... and wondered at the odd expression she encountered in those dark and steely eyes.
‘Mr. Shapani,’ Aunt Rose was saying, ‘do something with Vivien! Do something, please - for if I go into a home I shall die within a week!’
Nigel’s gaze was still fixed upon Liz; she sat down, continuing to hold that gaze for some moments, but then she had to look away, twisting one shoe daintily and regarding it as if she had discovered something exceedingly interesting about it.
‘The child wants to marry for love,’ said Nigel at last, a strange note in his voice. ‘There’s nothing anyone can do about it.’
Vivien stared unbelievingly at him, her blue eyes bright and clear as a star.
‘You’re on my side,’ she breathed wonderingly. ‘I’m so very glad you decided to come.’
‘But what can we do?’ whined Uncle Oliver. ‘As Rose said, she couldn’t live in a home, and neither could I.’
Liz glared at Nigel, who merely smiled to himself ... a smile of satisfaction which puzzled her immensely.
‘It won’t come to that,’ she declared emphatically. ‘We must think of something to beat those two half-witted old fools!’
Nigel’s eyes were again fixed upon her.
‘Has it ever occurred to you that you could go out and work for a living?’ he inquired mildly.
‘This vast fortune can’t go to that idiotic Fellowship,’ she snapped, ignoring his question.
‘I agree it’s an appalling waste,’ Nigel looked round the room at the various members of the family in turn. ‘There are others who could serve our purpose—’ His eyes came to rest on Aunt Rose and Liz frowned at his expression. She was not left long in this state of perplexity. ‘I’ve an uncle somewhere who might consider marriage. He’s not a beneficiary, but he might oblige for a small remuneration. Madam, could you bring yourself to marry again?’
‘Again?’ She glared at him and her round little virgin body became upright in the chair. ‘I’ve never been married, young man, and I’ve more sense than to enter into that unpredictable state at sixty-eight years of age.’
‘You have?’ Nigel’s amused glance flickered to Uncle Oliver. ‘What about you? I’ve an aunt—’
‘Then you can keep her,’ the old man interrupted. ‘Four, I’ve had - and that last one was enough to put me off for the rest of my life. No, young feller,’ he ended emphatically, ‘you can count me out.’
Watching Nigel’s face with interest, Liz wondered what he was about. Something strange here, she concluded, and for apparently no reason at all her spine began to tingle.
‘Grandma?’ he queried slowly, turning away from Liz. Her eyes glinted. She was sure his face portrayed suppressed laughter. ‘You—?’
‘It’s Great-Gran,’ submitted Vivien obligingly, and Nigel made a swift apology.
‘Sorry. Great-Gran, then. How’s she fixed?’
Liz pursed her lips. Nigel still avoided her gaze and she would have given anything to read his face.
‘She’s ninety-one!’ gasped Vivien.
‘Ninety-one? Really?’ He shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of resignation. ‘Well, I suppose she is a bit past it.’ He transferred his attention to Vivien, then he looked straight at her sister, the most odd expression in his eyes.
‘What did you say?’ Great-Gran peered at Nigel. ‘Vivien, tell me what’s going on! I’ve been concentrating on my work - and in any case my hearing’s not as good as it was. What did he say? Answer me at once!’
‘He said you’re past it,’ obliged Vivien unthinkingly.
‘What?’ A frail hand bent the lobe of a purple-veined ear into a forward position. ‘Speak up, girl, speak up!’
‘He says you’re past it!’ shouted Uncle Oliver.
‘Past it?’ The old woman glared interrogatingly at Nigel. ‘Past what?’
‘Cut out the tomfoolery,’ snapped Liz. ‘This is no time for making jokes.’
The room became silent except for the low disgusted sniffs issuing from Aunt Rose now and then as she went over Nigel’s suggestion that she should marry his uncle. Nigel moved after a while, taking possession of one end of the couch. Liz was sitting at the other end and there was a wide space between them. But she glanced sideways at him, and in the glow from a setting sun his face took on an almost satanic aspect; she thought of that kiss - and shuddered. He turned an expressionless face towards her.
‘There appears to be only one other solution to the problem,’ he remarked calmly, at last.
Uncle Oliver and Aunt Rose leant forward in their chairs expectantly.
‘You’ve thought of something?’ inquired the old man on an eager note.
Liz’s eyes widened in disbelief even as Nigel’s mouth twitched with amusement.
‘I have,’ he returned in that lazy, drawling tone, ‘but I rather think my idea has no appeal for the young lady concerned.’
‘Perhaps,’ challenged Liz after a pause, ‘you’ll be a little more explicit?’
Nigel flicked a speck of dust from his sleeve.
‘The idea is,’ he murmured, faintly bored, ‘for you and me to marry.’
Great-Gran’s knitting needles clicked; they sounded like the cracking of whips, so profound was the silence which dropped after Nigel’s calm statement had been voiced.
Vivien was the first to speak, the electrified atmosphere plainly being lost on her.
‘Liz won’t ever get married. She’s not the marrying kind.’
‘Often said she wouldn’t be burdened with the restrictions marriage imposes,’ supplemented Uncle Oliver. ‘Besides, she doesn’t like men - thinks they’re selfish and shallow and too imbued with the idea of their own importance.’
‘Confirmed spinster.’ Aunt Rose shook her head sadly. ‘I thought you’d found a way out of our difficulties, but it’s no use considering Liz as an answer.’
‘What’s going on, eh?’ Great-Gran peered over her spectacles. ‘Speak up, I won’t be left out of the conversation like this. Liz, what are you saying?’
‘I haven’t spoken a word for several minutes,’ she said between her teeth.
‘Nigel wants to marry her.’ Vivien leant right over and spoke into the old woman’s ear.
‘Nigel? Who’s he?’
‘This young man.’ Aunt Rose pointed to him. ‘If he and Liz married our problems would be solved, but Liz won’t marry anybody.’
‘What’s wrong with this Nigel?’ Great-Gran peered harder. ‘Looks all right to me. Take him, Liz, and let’s have no more fuss about this matter.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ With a distasteful glance at Nigel Liz moved from the couch to the window and stood looking out. To lose everything - this home and a vast fortune ... No one in their right mind would throw it all away. And there were the old people, especially Great-Gran, with whom she had always been close. Liz had a reputation for being hard, but old age had always touched some chord within her -dragging at it so that it hurt abominably. Turning her head, she looked at Great-Gran.
The old lady’s hearing and eyesight were failing and her heart had given her trouble lately. Only one or two years left at most. She could not spend them in a home. Nor could she be left all day - should Liz contemplate going out to work and having Great-Gran with her. Liz glanced at her aunt and uncle in turn; she was not quite so perturbed about them, but Great-Gran ... Liz shook her head. There really was only an institution ... unless ...
Transferring her gaze to Nigel, Liz saw that he watched her intently and knew he had guessed at the struggle taking place within her.
‘We could marry,’ she murmured reluctantly at last, ‘and live apart.’
The others threw her astounded looks - all except Great-Gran, who had not heard.
‘We could,’ agre
ed Nigel at length, then slowly shook his head. ‘But I am not willing to enter into that sort of contract.’
She frowned, recalling his hateful kiss. The contemplation of anything more was revolting.
‘In that case,’ she said through tight lips, ‘We must all face up to the loss of our fortunes.’
Silence, with hope once again dying on the faces of the others. Vivien gazed soulfully at her hands. She was free to marry the man of her choice and she considered all well lost for love.
‘Perhaps,’ suggested Nigel, rising from the couch, ‘we could discuss this matter more comfortably in private.’
‘There’s nothing to discuss. I’d never consider living with you as your wife.’ Dark and formidable he looked, like some pagan god resurrected from the mists of Greek history.
His mouth compressed at the disdain in her voice. Nevertheless, he repeated his question for a private discussion and with a shrug of resignation Liz led the way into a small study that had once been her father’s, and which only she herself now used.
‘Take a seat,’ she invited stiffly.
He pulled out a chair for her and they both sat down opposite to one another.
‘I said I wouldn’t agree to the sort of marriage you suggested,’ he then began without preamble. ‘But I didn’t say I wanted you as my wife in every sense of the word.’ He paused a moment to let that sink in before continuing, ‘One cannot possibly marry and immediately separate - there are one’s friends to think of, if nothing else. They would consider it very odd indeed, I’m sure you’ll agree with me about that?’
‘My friends would know the reason for the marriage, so there’d be no question of their considering it odd that my husband was not with me.’ Her lovely face was pale, her hands were clenched tightly in her lap.
