Roberta Leigh - In Name Only

by Roberta Leigh

  She rested against him. "You shouldn't have done it, John."

  "You mean Nicholas?"

  "Yes. It's the first cruel thing you've done to me."

  "If you'll forgive the cliché, one sometimes has to be cruel to be kind. I had to make sure you didn't want to change your mind about Nicholas." He put his hand under her chin and tilted her face up. "Look at me, Jane." Slowly she opened her eyes and he saw that the pupils were dilated, giving her the blank look of a doll. "Tell me what happened."

  "Nothing. I sent him away." With an effort she focused her eyes on John's face and, as his features became clear, so did her ability to say what she wanted. "Don't play any more tricks on me," she said unsteadily. "I told you yesterday that you had to trust me."

  "I did it for you - because I want your happiness more than my own."

  "Then love me. That's the only way I'll ever be happy."

  "You're quite sure? There'll be no going back after this."

  "I'm quite sure," she said steadily.

  With an inarticulate murmur John drew her back into his arms; but this time he was the one to rest on her and she found it easier to have the roles reversed, being able to stroke his hair with an almost maternal warmth that required no falseness.

  Suddenly he straightened. "Let's celebrate," he said jubilantly. "Where would you like to go ?"

  With an effort she forced herself to smile. "You're the boss, so you make the choice."

  To her surprise he chose a restaurant they had never been to before. "It opened while you were away," he explained. "They serve the best Italian food in town."

  "With the loudest music," she shouted to make herself heard, and followed the waiter to their table where, after giving their order, they watched the huddle of dancers on the small floor.

  When the food came it was as delicious as John had prophesied, but it was an effort for her to eat and she pushed it around with her fork, glad that the lights were too dim for him to notice what she was doing.

  All at once she found the noise and the heat intolerable and knew that unless she could be alone for a few moments she would scream.

  Pushing back her chair, she stood up. "I'll be back in a minute," she said, and squeezed herself through the close-packed tables to the powder-room.

  It was empty, and with a sigh she leaned against one of the wash basins, forcing herself not to think, using every ounce of control to keep her mind blank. Behind her she heard the door open, and quickly she took out her compact and moved over to the mirror.

  "Well, well," a husky voice said, "fancy seeing you!"

  With a feeling of inevitability Jane turned to find herself face to face with Carole. It was a moment she had imagined many times, but now it had happened she was curiously devoid of emotion, and looked at the girl as though she were a stranger.

  "I must say you're looking very well," Carole continued as she slipped past Jane and examined her face in the mirror. "Better than I've ever seen you look, in fact."

  Without replying Jane picked up her bag and walked to the door.

  "Don't go yet," Carole called. "Aren't you going to wish me luck?"

  Still by the door, Jane turned. "For what?"

  "For my future marriage, of course." Carole stuck out her hand and waved a flashing emerald in front of Jane's eyes. "Fabulous, isn't it?"

  "Fabulous," Jane said stonily. "But emeralds always did suit you."

  Carole gave a self-satisfied murmur, making her sound more than ever like a contented cat. "It's a good thing Raphael can afford them."

  "Who?"

  "My fiancé" Carole's eyes were mocking. "Don't tell me you don't know ? "

  "It's impossible to lie," Jane thought wildly, and shook her head. "I've been in Cornwall… out of touch."

  "I'll say you are! Raphael and I got a mass of publicity." The full red mouth was gaping wide with satisfaction. "But then if your father's a president, I suppose it's only to be expected."

  "A president?" Jane echoed.

  "Only a little island in the Caribbean, but you've no idea how important one feels when one's there."

  Uncaring that Carole was still speaking, Jane wrenched open the door and ran out, stopping precipitately in the narrow, carpeted lobby that led back to the restaurant. Carole was engaged to another1 man! The emerald, and obviously the bracelet too, had come from him and not from Nicholas.

  Nicholas. She clenched her fist against her mouth, remembering the cruel things she had said to him a short while ago, her insistence that she never wanted to see him again and - most heartbreaking of all - her assertion that she now loved John.

  It was the realisation that John was waiting for her that sent her back into the restaurant, and the moment she sat down at the table she made a pretence of studying the menu for a sweet, holding the large card high to hide her face.

  "Are you all right?" he asked.

  "Yes," she mumbled, but the sudden touch of his hand on hers startled her so much that she dropped the menu.

  "You look pale," he said.

  "Don't keep watching me. You make me feel like a specimen in a bottle!"

  "Sorry, darling. It's just that if you're tired I -"

  "I'm not tired! Leave me alone." Under cover of the table her hands clenched and unclenched, and though she would have given anything to get up and run away, conscience kept her bound to the chair. She had promised to marry John; had promised him not once but several times. It was impossible to go back on her word. But what cruel fate had allowed her to close the door on her happiness and then within an hour shown her the stupidity of her actions?

  Aware of John's lips moving she forced her attention back to him, using the noise of the music as an excuse to have him repeat what he had said.

  "It's only about Carole. I wanted to let you know she's here."

  "I know. I saw her in the cloakroom."

  "She was at the preview today as well."

  Again Jane nodded. "It would have been difficult to have missed her."

  He grinned. "Did you see the way she was waving her arm around? I thought she had a nervous tic until I saw the bracelet."

  Despite every effort she made Jane could not laugh, and John raised his eyebrows. "Not funny ?"

  Still unable to speak, she nodded and then forced herself to make some form of apology: "I just can't - I don't find anything amusing about Carole."

  "I'd feel a lot happier if you did. It would at least mean you weren't -"

  "Stop it!" she burst out. "You promised there'd be no more inquests."

  "Forgive me." Instantly he was on his feet, drawing her up to stand beside him. "Let's go. I don't think it was a very good idea to come here tonight."

  "I'm sorry, John. Forgive me."

  "There's nothing to forgive, darling. You're tired and I'm tetchy. I'm always like this on the first day of one of my shows."

  Waiting in the lobby while he settled the bill, Jane wondered whether the rest of her life was going to be like this: fleeting moments of contentment and the rest an agony of remorse and loneliness. Though logic told her she should tell John the truth, she was bound to him by the word she had given and by the loyalty he had shown her during this past difficult year. Again she would have given everything she possessed to have been able to turn back the clock, and again acknowledging the impossibility of doing so, decided wearily that happiness was not meant for her.

  Outside the restaurant the air was cool and John drew a deep breath. "What a lovely night," he said, and opened the car door for her.

  She huddled back in the seat, staring out unseeingly as they drove round Berkeley Square back to her flat.

  "Will you come up for coffee?" she asked automatically as they drew to a stop, and felt a tinge of nervousness when, to her surprise, he accepted the offer.

  But the moment they entered the living-room and she went to move to the kitchen, he stopped her.

  "No, Jane, I don't really want any coffee. I just wanted to talk to you." He put his arms a
round her. "It hasn't been a very good day for either of us, has it?"

  "I know; but it will be different tomorrow."

  "I hope so too; very much different." There was something in his voice which told her there was a hidden meaning in his words and she looked at him questioningly.

  "What is it, John? What are you trying to say ?"

  "I'm not sure I know how to put it. Tonight - when I saw you after you'd seen Nicholas - I knew I had to ask you this - but somehow - but I can't find the words."

  "What words? What do you want?"

  "You."

  She moistened her lips. "Me?"

  "Yes. Now. Tonight. I love you, Jane, and if you love me you won't refuse." His grip tightened around her. "I know we've spoken about it before and I understand your feelings, but it's time you understood mine. I need reassurance and the only way I can get it is if you'll let me love you."

  It was a decision Jane had not expected she would have to make tonight, but looking at John's expression, so pleading and desperate, she could not find it in her heart to say no.

  "If it's the 6ne thing that will convince you, give you the assurance you need…" She drew a deep breath. "Then stay with me, John."

  "Not here." He pulled her close, making it impossible for her to see his face, though she could hear his voice, low and shaking. "Not here. At my cottage."

  She was startled. "In Cornwall?"

  "No. My own place - on the river. We can be there in an hour."

  An hour. It was a reprieve in time and she took it eagerly.

  "I'll need to pack some things first. Will you wait or come back for me?"

  "You'll have to go on ahead of me."

  "Whatever for?"

  "I must settle a few things first - make sure my agent won't bother me for the rest of the week." He held her away from him and she could see his face again, noting the perspiration on his forehead and the muscle twitching at one side of his eye. "You can go in my car, Jane. At this time of night you'll be there in half an hour. By the time you've unpacked and settled in, I’ll be with you."

  "I'd rather wait for you," she pleaded. "It's ridiculous for us not to go together."

  "But I want you to. Then you'll be there - waiting for me. I'll feel as if I'm coming home. Can't you understand that?"

  Accepting the inevitable, she gave in. Without thinking or feeling she packed an overnight bag, adding a couple of dresses suitable for the country, and numbly followed John down to the car.

  It was not until she was in the driving seat that she was able to speak again, maintaining her composure by avoiding a direct look at him.

  "What car will you use?"

  "A hired one." He leaned through the window and kissed her forehead. "Drive carefully, darling, and God bless you."

  Before she could reply he was striding down the pavement, his figure whipped by the wind.

  "John!" She called Ms name, but lie did not hear has and she reached out and turned on the ignition.

  She was never clearly able to remember the lonely drive to the Thames Valley, aware only of the lights of London Airport as she passed it and the hump-back bridge over the river that told her she was near her destination.

  John's instructions had been so precise that she found the cottage without any difficulty, and a distant clock was striking one when she finally stepped out of the car, turned the key of the oak front door, and found herself all at once in another century.

  The cottage was furnished throughout with exquisite Tudor pieces and though small, there was everything that one could need for a perfect honeymoon retreat, from the central heating which worked at the touch of a switch to the larder full of tinned delicacies. Upstairs, in the one bedroom that the cottage possessed, she unpacked her case and hung her things in the lavender-scented cupboard, studiously avoiding looking at the four poster bed which dwarfed the room.

  After this there was nothing to do except wait, and in an effort to ease her tension she decided to have a bath. She lay in the warm water for a long while, the heat and steam finally relaxing her, and then in nightdress and negligee went back down to the living-room and curled up on the settee in front of the electric fire as she waited for John's arrival.

  Resolutely she tried not to think of the future, but her errant mind refused to obey. Was this frightened, trembling body the body of a woman in love? She gave an involuntary shiver and glanced down at her chiffon nightdress, wishing she were wearing something less revealing. If only it were Nicholas for whom she was waiting! If only it were his touch she could expect. With a moan she buried her face against the cushions and lay there until, soothed by the warmth of the fire and the stillness around her, she fell asleep.

  She awoke with a start to hear a cats turning in at the lane. The engine stopped, footsteps came up the path and the front door opened. She put shaking hands to her throat and stood up, gazing wildly around as if seeking somewhere to hide. But there was nowhere to run and the door of the living-room was already opening.

  Incredulously she stared at the man in front of her. Was she going out of her mind? Had anguish finally forced her away from reality and into a fantasy world? But the figure coming towards her was real, the voice no figment of her own imagination.

  "Jane," Nicholas said.

  "How did you know I was here?" she cried. "Why have you come?"

  "John sent me."

  It was too incredible not to be true and she was grateful for the back of a nearby chair on which she could lean for support. "Why?" she whispered. "Why?"

  "Because he's got more sense than either of us." Nicholas's voice was matter-of-fact, his actions unhurried as he poured himself a drink from a decanter of whisky on the sideboard and topped the glass with soda.

  "You'll get cold standing by the window, Jane. Come and sit down by the fire." As he spoke he did the same and waited for her to return to the settee before continuing. "Let's keep to the facts and consider the position."

  Still unable to think coherently, she gaped at him, listening as he went on speaking in the same even tones. "When I left you at the gallery this evening I'd finally accepted the fact that my life with you was over. When you told me you were going to marry John I knew that what I'd done to you - my behaviour during our marriage - was something you would never be able to forgive."

  "That isn't true," she burst out. "When I saw you this evening I still thought you were-"

  "In love with Carole?" he finished for her. "And I suppose you thought I'd given her that diamond bracelet too?"

  Jane was incredulous. "You know?"

  "I didn't," he admitted, "but John told me she'd been waving it about at the gallery."

  Jane closed her eyes, but tears forced themselves from beneath her lids and trickled down her cheeks. What a fool she was not to have realised that John must have guessed the shock she had received when she had learned Carole was engaged to another man. The remark he had made about Carole being at the gallery and showing off the bracelet had only been his way of trying to get at the truth. It was difficult to recall how she had answered him, but it was obvious that her reply had confirmed his fears, making him realise she had only sent Nicholas away because she had believed he had come to her out of guilt and was still in love with Carole.

  "The moment you left town," Nicholas went on, "John came round to see me. He told me what had happened tonight."

  "What did he say?"

  "Do you need me to tell you?"

  At this she lifted her lids and looked at him. As their" eyes met, his matter-of-fact air disappeared and, setting down his glass, he strode over and pulled her into his arms.

  "From the moment I fell in love with you," he said thickly, "there's never been anyone else. I could never look at another woman… never touch anyone."

  "Don't say any more," she cried, and with trembling hands stroked the grey hair at his temples. "If I'd not been so obstinate, so stupid…. I've made us both suffer for nothing."

  "It was as much my fault a
s yours," he whispered. "When

  I remember some of the things I said to you, I could -"

  "Hush!" She put her hand against his lips. "I said some awful things too. This afternoon - when I sent you away -I felt as though I were dying." She shivered. "John must have guessed."

  "Thank heavens he did."

  "Poor John." Her voice was sad. "It seems so wrong, so unfair… I'm taking my happiness at his expense."

  "You'd have been doing the same if you'd married him without loving him."

  Her sigh made him draw her close, and he cupped her face in his hands. "John sent me here because he knew we loved each other. The one thing he wouldn't want is your pity." Gently he stroked away the tears on her cheeks. "We're together, Jane. We must forget the past and only think of the future. Our future, darling, and the life we'll share together."

  "I'm scared to think of so much happiness." She spoke the words against his lips. "If one died for joy, I'd die right now."

  "You'd better not," he teased, "or you'll leave behind a most unsatisfied husband!"

  His humour served its purpose, helping her to accept John's action as the gesture of a man realistic enough to know they could never have been happy together.

  "I'm not going to let you divorce me for cruelty!" Her reply was as teasing as his own, and slipping from his hold, she moved to the door.

  Instantly he was by her side, his handclasp making any more words unnecessary. The doubts of the past were over and the future before them was bright with promise of happiness and fulfilment.

  Together they climbed the stairs, and as they reached the top he picked her up in his arms and carried her over the threshold into the bedroom.

  "Our marriage is beginning now," he said huskily. "A real marriage, Jane."

  "Very real," she whispered, and drew him down on the bed beside her, knowing that here, in his arms, she had at last come home.