Forsaking All Reason

by Jenny Cartwright

  Ella gave him a sweetly sympathetic smile. ‘You must really have worked hard, you poor thing. I hope they paid all your expenses?’

  ‘I did have a scholarship, but my father still had to find some fairly hefty fees to keep me there. Luckily, he was very highly skilled at an exceptionally specialised trade, so he could just about manage it. Later, when I was twelve, I was offered scholarships by a number of top public schools. But I opted to go back into the mainstream then and live with my father.’

  ‘So you missed out on your education?’

  ‘Oh, no. Far from it. I had an excellent education at the local school, and went on to study at the London School of Economics.’

  ‘Wow! That’s a good college. Even I’ve heard of it. It’s kind of like Harvard Business School, isn’t it?’

  ‘Well—er—not exactly. But anyway, as it turned out, I didn’t stay there for long. I was halfway through my degree when my father was made redundant. I was appalled at the waste of his skills. So I raised the money and bought up the business and put him back to work. The rest, as they say, is history.’

  ‘You just raised the money? Like that?’ She snapped her long fingers, making a practised cracking sound.

  Guy laughed roundly. ‘Yes. The arrogance of youth, I suppose. When I look back on it my blood runs cold. But I just walked into a branch of a high street bank and demanded a loan. It seemed very clear-cut to me, then. I loved my father, and I was going to put things right for him. The manager must have had suicidal tendencies… that’s the only explanation I can think of now for his lending me so much. It was a very foolhardy thing for him to have done.’

  Spoiled it all? Ella hadn’t spoiled it all because there was nothing to spoil. Jane had been barking up the wrong tree from the very beginning. What a fool she had been. Disappointment? Rejection? Frustration? These hadn’t been the driving forces in Guy’s life at all. It had all been done for love. Which meant that he was quite capable of loving a woman. No problem there. But he hadn’t gone looking for love, had he? Instead he’d gone looking for a wife. And he’d quite deliberately chosen for his wife a woman he didn’t love. An illusion. Clever, huh?

  ‘Oh, you’re just too modest, Guy. You were so obviously a gilt-edged investment. There was no risk—and didn’t that bank manager just know it…’

  She turned to Jane. ‘This gorgeous husband of yours just reeks of success, doesn’t he? Anyone can tell he’s the kind of man who always gets what he wants. Not the kind who would ever settle for anything but the best.’

  Jane’s smile nearly cracked her face in two. ‘You’re so right Ella. Absolutely. Guy has the highest standards in everything. But that doesn’t mean you can second guess him, you know? He judges things entirely according to their purpose. So unless you know what he thinks the function of something—or somebody—should be, you’ve no way of knowing which choice he’s likely to make. Now isn’t that right, Guy?’

  Guy frowned at her. She wasn’t playing by the rules and he didn’t like it. Her purpose as a wife was to be a charming hostess to his guests and a potential incubator for his children. Swallowing her bile, she slipped on one of her toothpaste smiles and said, ‘Now, Ella, why don’t I take you upstairs and show you your room and you can take a shower and then perhaps have a dip in the pool before lunch. I have a swimsuit here you can borrow if you like?’

  But, naturally, Ella had the sexiest bikini in the world stowed away in her luggage. Even Jane couldn’t keep her eyes off the woman’s curves, wondering how they were going to be held in place by those shreds of gold string when she dived into the water. Goodness only knew what the spectacle was doing to Guy. He was wearing sunglasses as it happened, so she couldn’t even begin to guess—even if his eyes had given anything away, which they surely wouldn’t have done. Was he, for instance, applying his famous standards to the question of Ella’s body? Was he judging it to be functionally perfect for a mistress? Ella was a career woman—not the appropriate type to make him a good wife. But, by golly, they could have a lot of fun in bed…

  All that evening Ella displayed her evident admiration for Guy, along with her curves which she had poured into a zany little lycra number for dinner. Being in love with a man, Jane had discovered, made one acutely sensitive to his moods. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, for instance, that Guy was uneasy. Deception seemed to hang in the air like a premonition of thunder.

  When Jane asked Ella what branch of law she specialised in, Ella was evasive.

  ‘Oh…this and that. I’m a jack of all trades.’

  ‘But surely you must favour business law or contracts or corporations or something?’

  ‘Oh. Sure. Among other things. Yeah. Contracts, I guess.’

  How odd. Because if Guy had wanted a good lawyer for a particular job, then surely he would have engaged a specialist lawyer? Not a jack of all trades. But if, on the other hand, he wanted a good lawyer for some other purpose entirely…ah, well then, a lawyer with blonde hair, luscious curves and a good line in flattering remarks might be just the ticket.

  ‘What exactly are you and Guy working on at present?’ she asked sweetly.

  But lo and behold, Guy noticed a shooting star at that moment, and hurried Jane off to see it. As far as Jane could see, everything in the heavens was completely static. The universe stretched out to infinity, black, starry and cold. Not a shooting star to wish upon in sight. She shivered. For the rest of the evening she smiled a lot and gave nothing away. She really was a perfect hostess.

  That night Jane made love to Guy as if her life depended on it.

  The next day Ella loafed down to breakfast very late, wearing a snazzy little sun-suit. ‘Oh, it’s just fantastic to be able to sleep late for once! Don’t you relish that, Guy? I mean, you’re like me…you work long hours most of the time…’

  ‘Mmm. It’s nice to be able to sleep in. Now and again.’

  ‘Lucky Jane. She can do it every day if she wants. She has nothing to do at all.’

  ‘Aren’t I fortunate?’ Jane gloated fraudulently.

  ‘You sure are. I just love the challenge of my career. But I do like to laze in the sun, too.’

  ‘You’ve certainly got a wonderful tan,’ Jane smiled.

  ‘Huh! Now just listen to who’s talking! I mean, you’ve got the most gorgeous tan all year round—and you don’t have to work on it—nor put dollops of sun-block on your nose to stop it peeling. You are incredibly lucky.’

  Jane tugged on the gold ring in her ear. ‘I am,’ she agreed mildly. ‘I have skin like café au lait. The caffeine content merely increases and decreases according to the season of the year.’

  ‘Seriously though, Jane, I’d just love to have your colouring. Just where on this earth did you get it?’

  ‘Rio, actually.’

  ‘Rio? Oh, fantastic. It has to be the most beautiful city in all the world. Don’t you miss it?’

  ‘I left when I was ten months old, as it happens. I don’t even remember it.’

  ‘Ah…I guess that explains your English accent…’

  As Jane found herself explaining the details of her adoption she unexpectedly warmed to Ella a little. The other woman, just as Guy had been, was refreshingly open in her curiosity. Jane found it deeply flattering. Oddly enough, as Jane’s manner eased with Ella, Guy’s air of unease deepened. He fidgeted with his napkin, and left The Times crossword half-done. Eventually he went off to the diving pool. And it wasn’t long after that that Ella suddenly lost interest in Jane’s obscure origins, and—surprise, surprise—decided that she just had to work on her back somersault.

  Jane watched her go with her heart in her mouth, but resisted the temptation to follow. If Guy was planning an affair with Ella, he’d presumably do it in New York. She couldn’t imagine him running the risk of being caught playing footsie in his own back yard. Anyway, she couldn’t stop him, and wasn’t at all sure that she had any right to. Mistresses, she suspected, might turn out to be another of the rules she had fa
iled to take into account when she let herself in for this marriage. She swam ten lengths of the pool all by herself. Very fast.

  Disappointment. Rejection. Frustration. It may not be doing much for her understanding of Guy, but it was improving her breaststroke no end.

  The following day Ella and Guy returned to New York. When they had gone Jane took a chair into the hall and sat in front of the Pissarro, nibbling at her thumb. She felt wasted and cold. She no longer had any hopes of making Guy fall in love with her. But she was damned if she’d let Ella breeze off with him all the same. Perhaps she should go ahead and try for a baby, after all…Her insides jumped with excitement at the prospect of carrying Guy’s child. But her mind looked reprovingly at the idea and flinched. Babies should be conceived out of love. Two-way love. Shouldn’t they?

  Of course, she herself might well have been conceived without a scrap of love being involved…but that was different. She had been meant to be. The indifferent universe had mustered a little magic at the moment that she herself had been conceived. She could hardly choose to bear a child in the hope that the magic would come later, especially as she knew now that it never would. But the idea plagued her none the less for the three days that Guy was away. She had agreed to this marriage. Wasn’t it her duty to have a child for Guy? Wasn’t that part of the system, too…? Like mistresses…?

  When Guy came back she asked, ‘Guy, what if I turn out to be infertile when the time comes?’

  ‘Are you worrying about that?’

  ‘Not exactly. I just wondered how you’d feel. Probably because of my parents’ experience, you know.’

  Guy studied her from across the room. ‘Is there any reason why you should think you might be?’

  ‘No-o…’

  ‘Then why concern yourself with a problem which may never arise?’

  She shrugged, and let her eyes drop to the magazine on her lap. She was concerned because as far as she could tell an incubator which failed to incubate wasn’t suitable for any purpose at all. If one married for love alone, as her mother had, then when the desired event failed to materialise, it wasn’t the end of the world. But what use would Jane be as a wife if her womb didn’t work?

  ‘Jane?’

  ‘Would you divorce me, Guy?’ she asked abruptly looking up into his slaty eyes.

  ‘Divorce you? Jane, we’ve only been married for a couple of months. Aren’t you happy?’

  ‘I meant if I turned out to be infertile.’

  ‘What sort of damn fool question is that?’

  ‘A perfectly legitimate one as far as I can see. Ours is a marriage of convenience. One of those conveniences as far as you are concerned is the begetting of children. Well, what if I’m no good at it? What then?’

  ‘Shall we cross that bridge if and when we ever come to it?’

  ‘Why wait to sort it out till then? Surely it can all be calculated in advance? I mean as far as I can see there are a variety of options. You could divorce me and find someone fertile to take my place. Or you could perhaps take a mistress, and have a child by her and then get custody of it and get me to adopt it—’

  ‘What?’ He sounded utterly incredulous. ‘Is that supposed to be a rational option?’

  Jane ignored him, merely hurrying on, ‘Well, I don’t see why not. After all, if it turned out that you weren’t capable of fathering a child you might well expect me to have artificial insemination as a solution. Surely what I’m suggesting is no more than a sort of reversal of that process—’

  ‘Stop it, Jane. Stop talking like this.’ For the first time ever she had made Guy’s iron control slip. He was really angry. It flashed like steel across his eyes. He clearly didn’t like the idea that his wife might not be fitted to the purpose for which she was intended.

  She was frightened. But glad too. Oh, she had irritated him time without number. And he had disapproved of her. But those were bland, cerebral responses compared to this fury. Wrath came from the heart. She might not have managed to capture his heart, but she couldn’t help relishing the power she had suddenly found to stir it a little.

  ‘Why?’ she continued rashly. ‘I thought you liked straight talking, Guy?’

  ‘I’m not sure that this conversation is the least bit straight. It’s about as convoluted a discourse as I’ve ever come across,’ he muttered thunderously.

  ‘But Guy, it’s all perfectly straightforward. I can’t imagine why we didn’t sort all these details out before we got married. I suppose if you’d told me that you wanted to start a family right away I might have got round to thinking about these things a little earlier, but—’

  Guy paced across to her and grasped her wrist tightly. Then he hauled her to her feet and looked down into her eyes very intently. Now she understood exactly why he normally controlled his features so carefully. This was not the passionless man she had thought she was marrying. He could be read like a book when he was overtaken by emotion.

  ‘Listen,’ he growled, ‘listen to me. Now that we are married we will face these sorts of problems together, like any other married couple. How can I possibly know what solution will be most appropriate when the problem itself is entirely hypothetical? For better for worse… remember? We stood up in church and we made our promises in front of a great many people. If getting you pregnant turns out to be one of the ‘for worses” then we’ll look for the best solution for both of us. But I won’t just dump you flat, you know. I am a man of my word, and you’d better know that.’

  For better for worse...forsaking all others…‘Do your scruples apply to all the marriage vows, Guy?’ she asked nervously.

  There was a dark, ominous silence and then he said, ‘No. Not all of them, Jane. You’re right—our arrangement does leave loopholes after all.’

  Suddenly the anger drained away from him and he let go of her wrist. He pulled her against him and held her carefully. ‘What the hell has stirred all this up?’

  Jane took a deep breath. She stood stiffly in the circle of his arms, fighting the temptation to lean against him and cry her eyes out. ‘Solitude,’ she lied wearily. ‘I’m not used to living in such an isolated place—especially in a country where I don’t speak the language.’ It was only a white lie, anyway. Now that she knew that Guy would never fall in love with her, there was no point in staying here in this special place of theirs. Especially as it gave the Ellas of this world carte blanche to smarm all over her husband. ‘I’m fed up here, Guy,’ she continued. ‘Can’t we go somewhere nice together?’

  They went to Genoa and boarded his yacht. Jane was charmed by the wonderful vistas of blue, blue sea glimpsed between the gorgeous white buildings of the lovely old city. Much more charmed than she was by the yacht itself, as it happened, which, though it looked absolutely splendid from a distance, with its impressive white hull and clean lines, turned out to be too shipshape for comfort. Their state-room had been recently refitted to the highest standards, Which meant that the carpet had pile so thick you almost needed snow-shoes to walk on it, and the swagged four-poster was wide enough for six. It wasn’t exactly that she had been expecting to share a hammock with Guy—though the idea did have a lot to recommend it—but it might have been fun to rough it just a little. She found herself actually willing the weather to turn. But the sun continued to shine down on the blue, blue sea all the way to Monaco.

  Guy took her to the casino and gave her a baffling array of chips. Jane dragged Guy off to the card tables, begging him for instructions and advice. After a while it began to dawn on her that she had more chips than she’d started out with.

  ‘You’re very good at judging this,’ Guy acknowledged drily.

  Jane smiled with glee and turned back to the tables. When she had a largish pile of chips in front of her she announced that she was bored, and cashed them in.

  ‘Beginner’s luck,’ Guy smiled.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Jane, but privately she thought that it was more than luck. Her luck, after all, could have turned at any moment.
The important thing was that she’d had the good sense to get out while she was ahead.

  Tangled with him beneath the awning of the four poster, she closed her eyes and let herself feel the gentle lapping of the sea. Guy’s thumb idly traced the outline of one of her hard, dark nipples, bringing it to a state of prickling arousal. She looked up at his face. There, beneath his cheekbone, was that mole. The mole which made him seem so very beautiful. She raised her own hand and covered it, pretending to stroke his cheek as she did so. She mustn’t love him any more if she was to survive all this. Falling out of love would be her way of staying ahead of the game. This marriage would be so much more tolerable if only she could manage not to love him. But within seconds her hand had fallen away, and all her calculations were crumbling as desire swelled inside her and she broke, like a wave, in his arms.

  They decided to live in London. Jane was relieved. It would be easier to distract herself on home territory. In the meantime Jane spent a few weeks travelling with Guy while he visited his numerous plants around the globe.

  ‘Are you sure you want to come?’ he frowned. ‘I don’t think you’ll find it very exciting. None of these workshops is in very glamorous places.’

  ‘I do want to come.’

  ‘But why?’ The yacht at the time was berthed at Cap Ferrat, where Guy had met up with a party of acquaintances who were renting a palatial house and eating and drinking like hogs. ‘You could stay here. Marcus and Jules will look after you. You could have a lot of fun.’

  Jane smiled a small smile. ‘Oh, but I’ll have fun travelling with you, too, Guy. Won’t I?’ she said.