Sweet Bondage

by Dorothy Vernon

  ‘Aye, lassie. This bairn is sorely wanted. It will ease a lot of pain.’

  ‘Oh . . . Morag,’ she despaired, shaking her head to rid it of the confusion this new turn-up had wrought, trying to think. ‘Where is Maxwell? Did you see where he went when he came out of his study?’

  ‘Up the stairs to his room, I should imagine. But there’s no telling whether he’s still there now.’

  But he was. He opened the door to her impatient knock, positioning himself to bar her entry into the room. ‘Well? What do you want?’ he demanded.

  ‘To come in, please,’ she said, shivering, but not letting his icy countenance put her off. Nothing must put her off. This time she must convince him.

  Grudgingly he stood aside. She walked past him, into the room, and waited until he’d closed the door.

  ‘Thank you, Maxwell.’ She didn’t know how to start and she just blurted out what she had been saying all along. ‘I’m not Glenda.’

  ‘Oh, no!’

  She sighed. ‘Will you please admit the possibility that I might be telling the truth? We need a starting point to talk from. It’s vital that we talk this out.’

  ‘I’ll go along with that,’ he said harshly. ‘Talk.’

  Not very confidence inspiring, but better than nothing, if only just. ‘Fiona let something slip which I knew nothing about and Morag confirmed it. I didn’t know that Glenda was pregnant.’

  For a moment she thought he was going to laugh in her face, and it wouldn’t have been pleasant laughter, that was for sure. But then he said, ‘All right. We’ll play it your way. We’ll pretend that you aren’t Glenda and that this is all new to you.’

  ‘I am not Glenda; it is all new to me. Please, cut the mockery and explain the facts.’

  His eyes narrowed, but he did just that ‘Even before he knew about the baby, Ian wanted to marry—’ fractional pause ‘Glenda,’ he said with a meaningful emphasis she could have done without. ‘He was over the moon when she told him. As far as he was concerned, it just brought the wedding date forward.’

  ‘But Glenda wasn’t so thrilled, I take it?’

  ‘It would be fairer to say that Clifford Channing wasn’t pleased. He didn’t want Ian for a son-in-law and suggested a way out of her . . . er . . . difficulties. Ian was going to see him, to try to reason with him, when he crashed his car. And even you, no matter who you insist you are, know the outcome of that.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Maxwell, truly sorry for bringing the pain of your brother’s death back. With Ian in hospital, Glenda would have felt lost. It would have been natural for her to turn to her father. So the abortion was his idea—yes?’

  ‘Yes. He’d even got as far as booking her into a very expensive clinic. I received a panic letter from . . . from her,’ he said with great difficulty, as if he thought he should be saying from you. ‘Although we’d never met, as Ian’s brother she felt that I was the obvious person to approach for help. She didn’t want to be pressured into doing something she could later regret I got her on the phone straight away and told her that abortion was out of the question. I said I would take her away—to a place where she would be free of her father’s authority and the bad influence he was having on her, somewhere he would never find her. Although she agreed, and even suggested a point where it would be convenient for me to pick her up, I sensed a certain reluctance.’

  ‘I should think so!’ Gemma said, flying to Glenda’s defense. ‘What sort of escape would that be? She’d just be swapping one dominant power for another.’ One bully for another, she might just as well have said.

  ‘That’s ridiculous! I was out to help her.’

  ‘In his own way, so was her father, even though what he wanted her to do was wrong. And so,’ she said, changing to a meditative tone, ‘I came along driving Glenda’s car and you quite naturally thought I was Glenda and that I was keeping the appointment’

  ‘When you started to object I assumed you’d changed your mind about coming with me. It was something I’d half expected anyway. You were carrying my brother’s child, and no way was I going to let you get rid of it. With or without your permission, I was taking you somewhere beyond your father’s reach. I’d already set the wheels in motion to take you to Iola. Angus had that side of the operation in hand—opening up the house and laying in provisions. I saw no reason for a change of plan where that was concerned, because I reckoned it would be the last place your father would look for you. I intended to keep you there until it was medically impossible for you to have an abortion.’

  With a dull little ache she realized that he had gone back to thinking of her as Glenda. ‘It must be as you assumed. Glenda apparently did change her mind. She was acting very strangely when we met up in the cafe. I remember that she said it should be her decision. She was most insistent about that. I didn’t know what she was talking about at the time, but now it all fits in. Glenda must have known that you wouldn’t let her change her mind about going into hiding, so she fobbed me off on you in her place. It could have been a spur-of-the-moment decision, arrived at when she passed me on the road into Ashford that morning. She’d have known it was my day off because it was later than my normal time for going to work. She’d also have known my habits, that I normally park in the square on shopping days, and in a town of that size it wouldn’t have been difficult to find me. She made up that phony story about having to take her car in for a minor repair job, conned me into letting her use my car and then got me to drive her car back, knowing that I’d have to pass the spot where she’d arranged to meet you to get home. The switch of handbags was something she couldn’t have counted on, but it was a stroke of genius, because that convinced you that I was Glenda Channing. Nothing I said could make you think otherwise.’

  ‘Rather elaborate lengths to go to. If, just if, it was as you say, wouldn’t it have been easier for her just not to turn up?’

  ‘Would you have let it rest at that?’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t. I would have hunted you down.’

  ‘There’s your answer. That’s why she did what she did. She planted me in her place to get you off her back and then she went off somewhere on her own to think things out.’

  ‘No more play-acting, Glenda. It was a good try and I award you full marks for ingenuity, but you’re not getting away with it, or away from me. You’ll never escape me. The child you’re carrying will have its rightful name. I made that vow to myself as I stood by Ian’s bed.’

  ‘Ian . . . of course!’ Ian’s acceptance of her would have clinched it with him. ‘I know what you’re thinking. At the hospital . . . what else could I do? Ian didn’t recognize me; he was too heavily sedated for that. I faked it; I pretended to be Glenda. In my place anyone would have done the same, wanted to give him some peace in his last moments. But I did it for you as much as for Ian. You dragged me to his bedside. I knew it would have caused you untold distress to have presented the wrong girl. But I can’t fake a baby, not even for you.’

  ‘If you’re saying that you’d already done the deed before I picked you up, I don’t believe you.’ There was menace in his eyes, black cynicism in the smile on his lips. ‘You wouldn’t have had time.’

  ‘I’m saying it isn’t possible. To have a baby you’ve got to . . . got to have . . . Don’t you understand?’ she screamed at him. ‘It just isn’t possible.’

  10

  She would have run from the room but he anticipated this and grabbed her by the wrists, looking deep into her storm-gray, tear-flecked eyes. It was going round and round in her mind. He doesn’t want to marry you to keep you by his side. He doesn’t love you. Doesn’t love you . . . doesn’t love you.

  He had only asked her to marry him to give his brother’s child its rightful name, a child she wasn’t even carrying. For one wild moment she wished that she was, wished she was Glenda and with child, because then he would marry her. She wriggled her fingers free of his and drew them nervously across her taut, flat stomach. Time, ally or enemy, and she wasn
’t sure which, would prove her right, and then he wouldn’t need to have anything more to do with her and he would send her away.

  It altered nothing. She didn’t want to go, but even if it resulted in her being sent away this very moment she still had to convince him. With a surge of desperation she took up the issue again.

  ‘You must believe me, Maxwell, and believing me you must do something while there’s still time, if there’s still time to prevent a tragedy. It’s obvious that Glenda has gone off somewhere on her own to make the decision herself. Her disappearance was reported to the press by her father, who’s offering a reward, so he doesn’t know where she is. When she planted me in her place it must have been in her mind to get away from you both, you and her father. All she wanted to do was make up her own mind, something neither of you would let her do. The decision could go either way. You must prepare yourself for the possibility that when you do find her . . . it might be too late.’

  ‘Could you take a lie to these lengths?’ His black-olive eyes raked her face. ‘Is it possible that you might be telling the truth? If you aren’t Glenda, why did you consent to marry me?’

  ‘I . . . don’t understand.’

  ‘Don’t be obtuse. You must have had a reason for saying yes.’ He caught hold of her wrists again, shaking them as though to force the answer from her. ‘If it wasn’t to give your unborn child its rightful name, what reason did you have?’

  Reluctant to say, unwilling to reveal her heart and admit that for some time now she had been in love with him, she fell back on evasion. ‘As I remember it, I didn’t say yes or no. You told me we were going to be married. As far as you were concerned that settled the matter.’

  ‘Ah . . . yes. That I cannot deny.’

  ‘I won’t hold you to it. You only proposed to me to give your brother’s child a name. There isn’t going to be a child, at least . . . I’m not carrying it. So you can’t still want to marry me. Can you?’ she asked impulsively.

  His eyes narrowed. His face was a carved mask. ‘What are you trying to make me admit to, Glenda—or Gemma, if that’s who you really are? That I proposed marriage to claim my nephew as my son and thereby give him the Ross name merely as a sop to my conscience? A noble falsehood, a fantasy, to cover the shabby reality that knowing you for the fickle tramp which you are, I still want you?’

  ‘No . . . I didn’t mean that at all.’

  ‘But you would have been right in thinking that. It’s the demoralizing, unprincipled, barbarous truth. I want you, want you so much it’s driving me out of my mind, beyond peace and self-respect into a black hell of hatred. I hate myself for wanting you; I hate you for being warm and responsive to me, for being able to switch brothers at the drop of a hat. For your heartlessness in thinking so little of Ian that you enjoy being touched by me. A decent woman wouldn’t have let me come anywhere near her, yet it was as much as you could do to keep your hands off me. It would have needed only the slightest persuasion to make you mine. I could have got you into bed any time I wanted.’

  ‘It’s a pity you didn’t,’ she flung at him, incensed by his disbelief, his insistence even now that she was Glenda. ‘If you had got me into bed you wouldn’t have had to take my word for it. You would have found out for yourself. Well, why don’t you? The bed’s there. What are you waiting for? Everything dealt with in one fell swoop, if you’ll pardon the crudity.’

  ‘Why you!’

  Disregarding the warning sparks in his eyes, she was past caring anyway, she continued with reckless abandon, refusing to mince words, ‘You could sate your passion and find an answer to the question that’s burning you up—am I or aren’t I the virgin I claim to be? And who knows—you might even give me the child you insist that I’m carrying.’

  ‘You’re asking for it,’ he said thickly, his eyes dark and demented, his fingers traveling from her wrists to her upper arms, pulling her closer so that the full fury of his breath blasted across her cheek. ‘You’re driving me to it. I won’t be able to help myself; you don’t need the usual trappings your sex is prone to resort to, a revealing dress, heady perfume. Your tongue is better than the deepest cleavage or the most evocative perfume.’

  She didn’t know which she backed away from, the naked hunger in his eyes or his words. How was she to know that to him the compulsive step away would come under the heading of provocation and that he would be incensed enough to bring her back?

  ‘You little torment. Never miss a trick, do you?’ he said, this time drawing her fully into his arms, holding her so suffocatingly close that she couldn’t breathe and then covering her mouth with a kiss which left no room for retreat and swept her into a vortex of feeling. It was like melting in a vat of pure sensation. Not just her burning lips, but her whole body was ultra-sensitized. She was electrically aware of his fingers sliding down her neck, easing away the material of her dress to give his lips access to her bared shoulder.

  His kiss showered her flesh with delight and she brushed her fingers across his lowered cheek, realizing the truth in at least one accusation he’d made. She did want to touch him, incessantly and involuntarily. She hadn’t realized there was anything wrong in that. It stemmed from her innocent desire to express the depth of her feelings through her fingers, and perhaps also to reassure herself that he was real and not a figment of her romantic heart. Her foolish heart, which bound her more securely than bars or chains. In her carefree, heartfree days she had hoped that love would come to her and had thought it would be a blessing. The realization had dawned on her slowly that it could also be a bondage, a sweet bondage when it was reciprocal and hearts were united, a bitter bondage when the love was not returned. The bitterness of Maxwell’s desire was as far removed from love as it was possible to be. It made a mockery of her earlier belief that the marriage with the greatest chance of survival was the one where physical attraction sparked off love. She had even thought that when the attraction was strong enough love must inevitably follow.

  She wasn’t aware that her distress had found an outlet and that she was crying in self-pity at the hopelessness of her plight—because she could not find happiness with Maxwell like this, but neither could she find happiness without him—until he molded his fingers to her cheeks to dry her tears. He did this awkwardly, with none of his usual finesse, as if in all his dealings with women this was a new turn-up.

  His voice was biting but not brutal, brusque but not bitter. ‘You’ve got to leave my room. We both need to cool off.’

  * * *

  She didn’t see Maxwell again until much later in the day and his attitude toward her was impersonal and even a little distant. There was no monitor on her movements and she supposed it would have been the simplest thing in the world to telephone for a taxi to take her to the station and catch the next train home. So easy in theory, so hard to do. She could no more walk out on Maxwell now than she could stop breathing. She couldn’t leave him of her own free will. If he wanted her to go he would have to send her away. She hoped it wouldn’t be until after Ian’s funeral. She wanted to be by his side for that.

  She phoned Barry again, this time without interruption. She couldn’t have left him hanging, not knowing where she was or what was happening to her. Her earlier phone call, so abruptly ended when Maxwell took the receiver from her and banged it down to cut off the connection, would have worried him more than no phone call at all.

  Barry came on the line and practically his first words were, ‘Give me your address and then if that lunatic, whoever he is, cuts us off again I’ll know where to come to sort him out.’

  The idea of Barry sorting Maxwell out was so ludicrous that it took all her composure not to laugh. ‘That won’t be necessary, Barry, but thank you all the same. When I phoned before I had . . . er . . . something like that in mind, but it isn’t fair to put you to the trouble of coming all this way. I’m in Scotland, incidentally, and I’m in no danger. I really am all right. Will you go round and see Miss Davies and give her that message? Ple
ase do this for me. If you see her and talk to her she’ll take it in much better than a phone call, which might panic her. Tell her I’m safe and that there’s nothing to worry about and I’ll get in touch with her myself later. Would you also pass that same message on to my neighbors, please? I hate to think that anyone’s been distressed by my disappearance.’

  ‘Disappearance? What disappearance? What are you talking about? I was hurt that you didn’t confide in me in advance, but no one’s had any cause for distress. Concern, yes, because Miss Davies said your voice sounded different. Choked up like, but that was to be expected.’

  ‘Miss Davies said? I don’t understand. When was this?’

  ‘Really, Gemma! What’s the matter with you? When you phoned her, of course, before you left, apologizing for the short notice and asking for time off. Something about a family crisis.’

  ‘That must have been Glenda. She seems to have thought of everything. I’m glad she made my excuses for me.’

  Glenda had certainly paid meticulous attention to detail. But whether she had made the phone call to Miss Davies to put everyone’s mind at rest or because she knew that Gemma would start screaming to Maxwell that she was Gemma Coleridge was another matter entirely. If fears had not been allayed at that end there was always the possibility of her disappearance being reported in the newspapers and the danger of Maxwell spotting it. She wasn’t going to have her plans spoiled by that and she had taken steps to eliminate the risk. Even if it was to suit her own purpose, Gemma was glad that Glenda had phoned Miss Davies and that she hadn’t been a worry to anyone.

  ‘What did you say about Glenda?’ Barry queried sharply.

  ‘Oh, nothing important. I read in the newspapers that she was missing. Has she turned up yet?’

  ‘No. Her father’s offering a fantastic reward for news of her whereabouts. Do you know anything about it, Gemma?’

  ‘What could I know?’ she countered.

  ‘If you know where she is you should speak up.’