Substitute Bride

by Margaret Pargeter

  'No. Why should I be?' Emma forced herself to ask coolly.

  His dark brows rose, frankly cynical. 'You didn't imagine I was planning to amuse myself with Oliver's cast-offs, did you? If I've occasionally kissed you, don't jump to the wrong conclusions. You can, I admit, provoke me. Your mouth is very kissable, if nothing else.'

  'How do you mean—nothing else?' Emma stared at him mutinously.

  'I mean, it's not so innocent. You've been around.'

  Seeing red at his insolence, she exclaimed, 'I suppose none of the women you've been out with have been around? Do you demand written evidence of a spotless character?'

  'You little brat,' his eyes smouldered, 'I don't need that kind of evidence. A man can usually tell. And while I might have taken other women out, this is the first time I've ever married one of them.'

  'You aren't congratulating yourself, though,' Emma choked. 'Only your temper drove you to marry me.'

  'Too true,' he grated tersely. 'Now I wish to hell I hadn't. I should have offered other things, like Oliver did with you and Blanche. We could have gone to Paris without being married.'

  'At least,' Emma cried, 'Rex is rarely a hypocrite!'

  Swiftly he grasped her arm, his fingers steel-like and hurting. 'You'll apologise for that,' his face was suddenly taut with fury. 'I don't take insults from either men or women. Apologise or else!'

  He looked so arrogant she quite believed the warning in his voice was no idle threat. All the same, she continued to defy him. 'I won't,' she said, 'because it's the truth.'

  'If you don't,' he murmured suavely, 'I know how to make you change your tune. The bed, for instance, is only two feet away.'

  'You wouldn't dare!' she breathed, her face paling, then flooding with colour as she visualised exactly how he would punish her there. It made her tremble even to think of it. An apology might be infinitely preferable to that. 'I'm sorry,' she mumbled, tearing her eyes away from his darkly handsome face.

  'That's better,' he said succinctly.

  'I—I hate you,' she whispered, the taste in her mouth so bitter she felt sick.

  'Don't be too sure of it,' he drawled mockingly, turning from her abruptly. 'I'll see you downstairs in half an hour,' he added.

  As the door closed behind him, Emma collapsed on the bed. Feeling unbelievably exhausted, she allowed salty tears to overflow and scald her cold cheeks. Forcibly, she had to remind herself that she had no one but herself to blame for the poor opinion Rick had of her. But it still hurt to know that it was only because he believed her a low creature to be despised that she was here. If she gave in to her deepening desire to tell him the truth, he would send her home. True, he had married her as much to salve his own pride as anything else. Yet she suspected he wouldn't allow that to deter him from what he might consider his duty if he were to learn she was innocent of most of the crimes he thought her guilty of.

  Suddenly, as a wave of homesickness engulfed her, she was tempted to go to him and confess everything. Sadly she found herself yearning for the familiar green fields, the rain and the grey English skies. Nostalgically she even thought of Daisy's large brown eyes searching for the girl who had always looked after her so gently. As Emma sat thinking about the farm her tears flowed faster. It pained her that she hadn't been able to say a proper goodbye. On top of this was the worry of not knowing how Hilda and old Jim were managing without her. Blanche was unlikely to be of much help. Besides, her mood would be far from co-operative by the time she got home.

  Sighing, Emma scrubbed the tears from her face before stepping out of her clothes to get under the shower. It was no use worrying now, but she wished the last few days hadn't happened so quickly. If she had been given time to consider sensibly just what she had been about to embark on, she doubted if she would have been here tonight.

  Half an hour later, neatly dressed in a light print dress, she met Rick's family again, and this time Gail's brother. A good-looking, rather brash young man of twenty-five, he brightened when he caught sight of Emma.

  'Thank heavens!' he grinned as Rick, a watchful step behind Emma, introduced her. 'I wasn't looking forward to meeting Rick's model girl—they're too liable to scream at one hair out of place, but I do feel I might get to like you.'

  If Emma was rather startled by his somewhat tactless approach, Rick ignored it. 'Get Emma a drink, Ben,' he said, 'and one for me. I'm glad you managed to make it.'

  Rita was speaking to a servant, Gail was fishing through a pile of cassettes. Seemingly unperturbed by his stepbrother's sarcasm, Ben poured them all drinks and returned. He passed Emma hers, his eyes still studying her.

  'She has a rather old-fashioned look, like her name. Sort of chaste…'

  'There's nothing old-fashioned about my wife,' Rick replied sardonically, 'but don't go making her worse than she is.'

  While Emma flushed unhappily at what seemed a veiled insult, another servant entered with a laden trolley.

  'I thought, if it was only a snack you wanted, you might as well have it here.' Rita, dismissing the servants, smiled charmingly at Rick, who nodded his assent.

  Rita, still attractive at sixty, turned, her face sobering coldly as she glanced at Emma. 'If you sat over there, my dear, you might manage your drink better.'

  Emma gave a start, having almost forgotten she was holding anything. She was dismayed to find the greeny liquid, whatever it was, trickling over her hand as the glass tilted. 'I—I'm sorry,' she faltered, her eyes wide with distress.

  'Perhaps you had too much on the plane?' Gail quipped with a malicious giggle.

  'Yes—No. I don't really think so…' Emma stammered, wondering miserably why Rick made no attempt to help her. He actually looked as though he enjoyed seeing her being got at.

  'Sit down, can't you,' he said impatiently, giving the impression he would support Rita rather than his wife.

  Meekly Emma did as she was told. Rita, busy dispensing coffee, spoke again, with audacious sharpness. 'I hope you're going to fit in, my dear. There are a lot of parties and that kind of thing—a lot of social life on the island. Otherwise you're going to be very bored.'

  Almost as if she were a stranger and must remain one. Confused, Emma stared into Rita's icy eyes, again wondering why Rick didn't come to her rescue. Rita was making it quite clear she had no intention of handing over the reins of the household, certainly not into the hands of an incompetent teenager.

  A flicker of devilment in Emma prompted her to say smoothly, 'I'm not all that fond of parties. I expect,' deliberately she allowed her eyes to travel round, 'I'll find more important things to occupy my time here.'

  Rita's thin mouth tightened. 'Rick likes his household managed properly and I'm used to his ways.'

  About to reassert herself more strongly, Emma suddenly subsided. Why bother? Wasn't she only Rick's wife for a year? He wouldn't want her even pretending to be mistress here. The best thing she could do was to leave it all to Rita, who apparently had every intention of carrying on as usual. Then, when she went, it would just be as if a faint breeze had come and gone.

  'You do like meeting people, I suppose?' Rita, like all bullies, trampled even harder when her victim made no further protest.

  Emma said carefully, 'Of course.'

  'She won't be meeting many for a while.' Rick spoke at last, and firmly.

  Emma winced, strangely having more regard for his opinion than for Rita's. He must think she wouldn't know how to conduct herself in front of his fine friends.

  'I did promise Veronica you would be at the party she's giving tomorrow night, Rick,' Rita frowned. 'She was so persistent I hardly liked to refuse.'

  'She doesn't waste much time,' Ben said dryly.

  His mother ignored him as she went on speaking to Rick. 'She had heard you were coming back, and you know how it is with her.'

  'Sometimes it's almost too obvious.' Rick's face hardened and Emma thought he was going to say more. Instead, he shrugged. 'This once we might oblige, but I have too much to catc
h up on to waste time over too many social functions.'

  Rita said thoughtfully, 'You don't usually say no to a party, when you're at home, especially Veronica's.'

  That Rita was doing her best to ignore Rick's marriage stood out a mile, and Emma winced. Who was this mysterious Veronica, whom Rita apparently favoured more than herself?

  'Rick was saying, 'I want to go over the whole estate as soon as possible.'

  Why was that? Emma glanced enquiringly at Rick, but he wasn't looking at her. He began talking to Rita of other things, and both Rita and Gail seemed happy to follow his lead and ignore her. Emma swallowed a surge of resentment as she remembered his lectures on keeping up appearances. He was doing absolutely nothing to help if he wanted to give the impression that they were a happily married couple.

  Ben was the only one who seemed to appreciate her presence and during the next few weeks Emma was to become grateful for his kindness and his company.

  The following evening arrived all too soon. Emma had seen little of Rick all day, but while she missed him there was plenty to distract her attention. The house was old but had been modernised and was large and extremely comfortable. It was surrounded by extensive grounds and beyond these lay acres of gently rolling sugar cane.

  The gardens were extensive, keeping the sugar cane at bay, and Emma was impressed by the sheer beauty of the landscape. As she was interested in farming, the cultivation of the estate intrigued her and she would have liked to have asked Rick about it, but he wasn't around. He was busy, Rita told her when she asked where he was, while her scornful glance seemed to add that a new bride shouldn't have to look far for her husband.

  Rather than suffer further humiliation, Emma wandered about on her own, and it was Ben who answered her many questions about the island, its people and the sugar plantations. She had found the huge swimming pool in the gardens and decided to avail herself of it as she was hot and sticky from her wanderings. She had been in and was out, sitting on the edge of it when Ben found her.

  'Rick not with you?' he grinned, dropping down beside her.

  'As you can see,' she said shortly.

  'Never mind,' he went on smiling idly. 'He's busy. I've been with him all morning,' he groaned ruefully, 'and he never stops.'

  Emma glanced at him curiously. 'Don't you like being busy?'

  Ben shrugged. 'Sometimes. Oh, most of the time, I suppose, but there are limits, and Rick's a slave-driver. I did think he would slow up a bit for you. You may not be a model, but you're a sweet young thing. I can't think what he's thinking about.'

  Emma flushed unhappily but tried to make light of it. 'Other things, apparently.'

  'Well, if he neglects you, you don't want to let him get away with it.'

  'Or he'll treat you the same as he does all the others,' another voice finished for him.

  Turning with a gasp, Emma found Gail staring down on her. She hadn't heard her approach and she flinched from the other girl's callously presented warning. While Ben's words had been lightly teasing, his sister's held more than a hint of deliberate spite.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Flashing a disapproving glance at his sister, Ben placed a comforting hand over Emma's, as it lay beside him. 'Don't take any notice,' he smiled. 'Gail is one of this world's little cats. She can't help her claws.'

  Can't she? Emma thought derisively, withdrawing her hand.

  'You'll have to watch Veronica this evening,' Gail continued, undeterred. 'She and Rick have been close for ages. She might have been reconciled to your glamorous cousin, but she'll never understand what attracted Rick to you.'

  'Emma isn't plain. She's too thin, but she's quite pretty,'. Ben insisted kindly.

  Gail merely raised pencilled brows. 'Well, her story has to be interesting, if she's not.'

  Because Gail's eyes were so speculative, Emma's face burnt. Scrambling to her feet, she dived in the pool again. Having guessed what was coming she had no wish to satisfy Gail's curiosity as to exactly how she and Rick had met and married.

  Floating on her back, letting the water gently soothe her, she soon felt a little better. Faintly she could hear Ben and Gail quarrelling, but was too far away to make out what they were saying to each other. She could see she would have to grow a thicker skin if she was to survive here for the next few months. Rita and Gail obviously disliked her, and she couldn't expect any help from Rick. Added to this would probably be the animosity of his former girl-friends. Only Ben was inclined to be kind, and again she felt a warm surge of gratitude. If she ever needed it, perhaps he would help her.

  Veronica Ray lived several miles down the coast with her two brothers, Miles and Harley. The family owned a large business in Bridgetown and made enough money to give Veronica most of the things her rather mercenary soul craved. That her brothers hadn't been able to capture Rick Conway for her was something Veronica held against them. Yet, at the party she gave, the surprise on her face, on meeting Rick's young wife, might have informed the least intelligent of onlookers that she was filled with new hope.

  Emma, not slow to read Veronica's mind, felt, as the evening progressed, that the other girl might have good reason to be so flagrantly sure of herself. As she watched them dancing, she noticed Rick's slow, appreciative smile as he gazed down into Veronica's velvet-dark eyes. Emma he almost ignored all evening, and his neglect was beginning to make her feel desperately uncomfortable. When a bride of just a few days was ignored by her husband, this could only become a subject of malicious gossip, especially in such a closely knit community.

  She turned with almost visible relief when Ben asked her to dance. 'Oh, thank you,' she murmured, a glimmer of tears in her eyes.

  'Don't tell me you and Rick have really fallen out?' he teased. His voice was light, but Emma could see he was slightly puzzled by the way Rick was behaving.

  When she shook her fair head, he clearly wasn't satisfied. 'I wasn't serious, this morning. Rick can be a devil at times, but he's usually quick to forgive. Besides,' he smiled, 'most new husbands are inclined to be extremely tolerant.'

  'Because we're married it doesn't mean he has to be glued to my side!' Emma protested feebly.

  'Still no valid reason for neglecting you, my child.'

  Wishing everyone wouldn't insist on calling her that, she retorted a little too fiercely, 'I don't expect him to neglect his friends.'

  'It's just possible his friends might understand,' Ben retorted dryly, not for a moment fooled by the shimmer in Emma's eyes.

  'Oh, never mind!' she made an effort to speak naturally, to dismiss Rick from her thoughts. 'I like dancing, and you're good.'

  'So are you,' he laughed, whirling her in his arms in such a way as made her almost forget the idle tongues, the quick, speculative glances which clearly wondered what on earth Rick Conway had seen in her.

  Ben danced with her three times before leaving reluctantly to dance with another girl. 'I'll be back,' he assured her. 'You're really something. I can't remember when I've enjoyed anything so much.'

  Rick was dancing with Veronica again and Rita and Gail were nowhere to be seen. Again Emma sat by herself with no one taking any notice, her face so stiff from trying to retain a happy expression that it soon felt completely frozen. Rick did, she saw, eventually dance with someone else, another lovely girl, with whom he was soon dancing cheek to cheek. The girl had her arms around his neck, and had pulled him down to her.

  When numbly Emma turned her head away, it was to encounter Veronica's malignant stare.

  'It hardly looks as if you're going to be able to hold him, honey. I'll give you a few weeks at the most.'

  Emma replied with difficulty, 'Rick and I understand each other.'

  'I wish I did!' said Veronica, with sharp laughter, as she sailed away.

  Emma was never sure how she got through the rest of the evening. Rick asked her to dance once and she refused, she felt so sick. He had taken her in to supper but barely spoken to her. She told herself she was relieved when he left her w
hile knowing she would have given anything to have danced with him and kept him by her side.

  Tossing and turning later in her huge lonely bed, with the scent of jasmine and gardenias floating in through the open window, she found it difficult to sleep. Eventually, when she did, it was to dream she was in Rick's arms and he was holding her close. A slight smile flitted across Emma's tear-wet cheeks as she kissed him and clung to him feverishly.

  Neither Rita nor Gail appeared to come down for breakfast, for it was the second morning that they hadn't been there. Rick wasn't there either and the housekeeper told her he was out on the plantation.

  'He works very hard,' the Bajan woman said.

  'I thought he had a manager?' Emma carefully sipped her coffee. The rolls were fresh and she made herself butter one, although she didn't feel hungry. She declined the offer of anything cooked.

  'Yes, the boss has a manager. He's a good man, and then there's Mr Ben. He's leaving, of course. Going to manage his own plantation, one day.'

  'Is he looking forward to it?' Emma enquired, looking anxious.

  'Of course!' the housekeeper beamed. 'Mr Rick says he can go as soon as he's learnt enough.'

  Emma bit her lip. She liked Ben, she hoped he wouldn't disappear too soon. Uncertainly she glanced at the housekeeper, who was still hovering. Normally, she knew, she would be expected to take over the duties of a mistress, but apart from the fact that Rick had never asked her to, she realised it would be a waste of time. And she had no intention of upsetting Rita, who would have to look after Rick when she was gone.

  Fearing the woman was on the point of asking whose orders she was to take, now that the boss was married, Emma finished her coffee hastily and went out. 'I'll go and see if I can find anyone,' she said.

  In spite of her endeavours, she didn't see Rick all day, and by evening she was seething with unhappy resentment that he was so obviously avoiding her. Heedless of anything but her own anger, she recklessly threw open the double doors between their rooms when she heard him moving about.

  'Yes, what is it?' he asked sharply, clearly surprised as he paused in the act of unbuttoning his shirt.