The Australian's Marriage Demand

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  No, Jasmine had sat and squirmed in her seat for as long as she could remember. She’d hated the dour music and the way all of the women had tried to out-dress each other every week. She’d hated the way the Sunday School teachers frowned at her questions and talked behind their hands in reproving conspiracy at her wilful disobedience. She’d walked out of the gargoyle-appointed cathedral at the age of sixteen and had never looked back, except in anger. In anger at the way her choice of belief system had alienated her from her parents even as they preached tolerance and acceptance.

  Jasmine hadn’t even seen a copy of Monday morning’s paper when her second youngest sister called her on the telephone.

  ‘How could you do this?’ Caitlin cried.

  Jasmine stiffened in preparation for the damning tirade.

  ‘After all you’ve put us through, you do this, as if that affair with Roy Holden wasn’t enough!’

  ‘I didn’t have an affair with—’

  ‘How could you sleep with Connor Harrowsmith? How could you? You know what he’s like; Finn is always telling us about his playboy exploits.’

  ‘I didn’t exactly sleep with—’

  ‘Of course Father is beside himself. The Archbishop has already called this morning and now Mother has a migraine and it’s entirely your fault.’

  Jasmine let her sister run herself out. There was no point in stating her case. No one would believe her if she tried, but her anger and resentment towards Connor increased by several notches.

  ‘I just hope Samantha and Finn don’t look at this morning’s paper,’ Caitlin continued. ‘Otherwise their honeymoon is going to be completely spoilt by your foolish and reckless behaviour.’

  Jasmine had heard enough.

  ‘If Finn and Sam are reading the paper on the second day of their honeymoon then Finn isn’t half the man he should be,’ she said.

  Caitlin’s gasp was clearly audible.

  ‘You’re so shameless! How can you be so flippant? At least Finn has some sort of morals, unlike his wayward, philandering stepbrother.’

  Strange though it seemed, Jasmine suddenly felt compelled to spring to Connor’s defence.

  ‘You hardly know the man,’ she said. ‘It’s not fair to judge.’

  ‘Not know him? Everyone knows him. Every movement he makes is splashed across the papers all the time. He’s Sydney’s biggest playboy and you were photographed half-dressed coming out of his room the morning after your sister’s wedding.’

  ‘I wasn’t half-dressed,’ Jasmine said more calmly than she felt. ‘I just didn’t have my shoes on.’

  ‘And where were they?’ Caitlin’s tone was snide. ‘Still underneath Connor Harrowsmith’s bed?’

  She didn’t bother denying it.

  ‘They were in his possession, yes.’

  ‘I can’t believe you can be so casual about this!’

  ‘I’m not being casual.’

  ‘Well, you won’t be when you hear what Father has said.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Father is outraged. He’s threatening to prosecute Connor if he doesn’t do something to immediately quell the scandal.’

  ‘It’s hardly a scandal—’

  ‘You might like to remind yourself at this point that our father is a prominent member of the clergy. This is a scandal!’

  ‘I think it’s more of a scandal when people stick their noses into business that has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with them,’ Jasmine replied. ‘I’ve got to go to work. Goodbye.’

  She hung up the phone and fumed.

  Damn him! This was entirely his fault!

  The telephone rang again and she stared at it for a long moment before picking it up. The last thing she wanted was a tearful how-could-you-do-this-to-us-after-all-we’ve-done-for-you type of conversation from her distraught mother. Nor could she currently cope with a condescending, moralising lecture from her ‘holier than thou’ father.

  ‘If you’re ringing to criticise me then hang up right now,’ she said into the receiver.

  ‘I wasn’t calling to criticise you.’ Connor Harrowsmith’s deep voice sounded in her ear.

  Her hand tightened around the receiver.

  ‘I take it you’ve seen the morning papers?’ she asked.

  ‘Have you?’

  ‘Not as yet but I’ve been informed of their content.’ Her tone was bitter. ‘It seems I’m in the middle of yet another scandal, this time with you as my partner in crime.’

  ‘Poor you.’ He laughed. ‘To have sunk so low.’

  ‘This isn’t funny!’ she raged. ‘This is all your doing.’

  ‘I accept total responsibility.’

  She frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘As you say, it’s all my fault.’

  Jasmine didn’t think he sounded at all contrite; on the contrary, he sounded rather proud of the fact that he’d caused so much of a scandal.

  ‘My father is furious,’ she put in.

  ‘So is my stepfather.’

  ‘And my mother has a headache,’ she added.

  ‘I shouldn’t wonder, having to listen to your father’s sermons all the time.’

  She opened her mouth to attack him but changed her mind.

  ‘My sisters will probably never speak to me again,’ she said instead.

  ‘So?’ She could almost sense his dismissive shrug. ‘When was the last time they listened to what you had to say?’

  She hated to allow him to be right but he was. Even as she privately marvelled at his insight into the dynamics of her family, another part of her still wanted to fight him.

  ‘My family are very important to me,’ she said.

  ‘How admirable of you.’

  ‘You’re making fun of me.’

  ‘No. I’m actually on your side in all this.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘I can see why your father has such an issue with you,’ he said wryly. ‘Your lack of faith is lamentable.’

  ‘You’re making fun of me again.’

  He laughed.

  ‘Maybe I’m poking fun at life in general. Don’t take it too personally.’

  ‘Is your stepfather threatening to disinherit you too?’ she asked.

  ‘He shouldn’t,’ he said. ‘I didn’t do anything wrong.’

  ‘You slept with me,’ she said. ‘Deflowering a bishop’s daughter is pretty high up on the unforgivable sins chart.’

  ‘But you’re not the innocent virgin, are you?’ he said.

  Jasmine wasn’t sure how to answer him. The papers had been full of her ‘inappropriate relationship’ with Roy Holden; Connor surely could not have been unaware of that. But while the press loved a scandal, they were less particular over the truth, and that lay within her, untouched.

  ‘According to popular opinion I’m an “outright tart”,’ she quoted.

  ‘I’ve never been one for popular opinion,’ he said. ‘I like to find out these sorts of things for myself.’

  Jasmine felt a funny sensation rush through her at the thought of him examining her intimately. She dismissed the thought and schooled her voice into indifference.

  ‘I need to get to work. Was there something you particularly wanted to discuss with me other than the contents of this morning’s paper?’

  ‘Actually there is something I wanted to discuss with you,’ he said.

  ‘Yes?’ Her tone was abrupt.

  He made her wait for his reply.

  ‘I have a solution to our little problem.’

  ‘What sort of solution?’

  Again he let the silence continue unbearably.

  ‘The sort of solution that will dispel all the rumours and restore family faith in the two miscreants.’

  ‘A miracle?’ she said with a rueful edge to her voice.

  She heard him chuckle.

  ‘Not quite a miracle but an amazing occurrence for all that.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Marriage.’

  ‘Marriage?
’ She almost choked on the word, ‘Whose marriage?’

  There was an infinitesimal pause.

  ‘Our marriage.’

  This time it was her who let the silence continue.

  ‘I think we should get married as soon as possible,’ he said evenly.

  ‘I think you need to see a psychiatrist,’ she shot back. ‘I’m not marrying you!’

  ‘Never say never, sweetheart.’ He gave another little chuckle.

  Jasmine felt as if someone had just walked over her grave. A cold shudder of fear ran through her and her fingers on the telephone grew white-knuckled in panic.

  ‘My parents would never allow such a thing to happen,’ she said with as much confidence as she could muster.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course I’m sure! My father would rather die than allow me to marry you.’

  ‘You don’t know your father very well then.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ A flicker of consternation settled in her chest, causing her breathing to trip and become erratic.

  ‘I just spoke to him a few minutes ago.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And he suggested we should get married as soon as possible.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  JASMINE felt as if she were going to faint.

  The room tilted before her eyes and she had to grasp the edge of the telephone table to anchor her shaking body.

  ‘You can’t possibly mean to carry it out,’ she managed to croak. ‘I mean—it’s unthinkable! We’re strangers!’

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ he countered. ‘We’re almost related now that your sister is married to my stepbrother. Besides, we’ve spent the night together; I’d say that covers a lot of ground.’

  ‘Not the sort of ground I like to be on!’ she shot back. ‘I’m not marrying anyone and, even if I was, you’d be the very last person on my list.’

  ‘Flattered, I’m sure,’ he drawled insolently.

  ‘I mean it, Connor,’ she insisted. ‘Marriage is an outdated institution constructed by men to gain control over women.’

  ‘I’m sure your sisters would be very disappointed to hear your views considering that each of them have found and secured themselves a husband within the last year.’

  ‘More fool them.’

  He laughed. ‘Come on, Jasmine. I promise to be a good husband.’

  ‘You don’t know the meaning of the word.’

  ‘Which one? Good or husband?’

  ‘Both.’

  ‘It will have to be a quiet ceremony, of course,’ he said.

  ‘I’m not marrying you!’

  ‘And I don’t know if your parents will want you to wear white.’

  ‘I’m not mar—’

  ‘And I don’t think we need bother with a long honeymoon.’

  ‘I’m not going to—’

  ‘But then again, it could be fun.’

  She slammed the phone down in frustration. How dare he mock her?

  The telephone pealed and she picked it up and thrust her finger on the answer button immediately.

  ‘Go to hell, Connor Harrowsmith!’

  She left the phone off the hook and wandered about her tiny apartment in agitation. She was already forty minutes late for the clinic. A few more wasn’t going to make or break anything.

  She had to sort out this misunderstanding, but how? Perhaps she could call her parents and explain.

  She picked up the receiver and quickly dialled the number. Her father answered in his usual Eucharistic tones.

  ‘Good morning. Bishop Byrne speaking.’

  ‘Father, it’s me.’

  ‘Jasmine.’ She heard him suck in a breath. ‘I wondered when you’d get around to calling.’

  ‘I wanted to explain—’

  ‘Your mother is in a state,’ he cut across her. ‘I’ve had to call Dr Pullenby. It’s been in every paper.’

  ‘It’s not my fault. You see it was—’

  ‘Don’t tell me the Devil made you do it.’ His tone was impatient. ‘Do you know how many times I hear that in a week? Do you?’

  ‘Connor and I hardly know—’

  ‘At least he’s offered to do the decent thing.’

  ‘Decent?’ Jasmine was incredulous. Connor Harrowsmith didn’t know the meaning of the word.

  ‘But I’m not performing the ceremony,’ he said. ‘It would go against everything I believe in.’

  ‘I’m not marrying him.’

  ‘Yes you are,’ her father said. ‘Or you’ll never see either your mother or me again.’

  Jasmine couldn’t believe her ears. Surely her parents’ moral code wasn’t more important than their own flesh and blood?

  ‘I understand,’ she answered in a detached tone.

  ‘You’d better, young lady,’ her father added. ‘You’ve caused quite enough trouble as it is. I’ve had to negotiate my way through a conversation with the Archbishop this morning. I assured him that you and Finn’s brother will be getting married within a month at the very latest.’

  ‘A month!’

  ‘I’d be happier if it were next week. For all we know you could already be carrying his child.’

  Jasmine reared away from the telephone in shock.

  ‘He’s not the sort of husband I would’ve liked for you, of course, but then you’ve always been wilful and disobedient. Perhaps having a difficult husband will teach you the lessons you’ve always refused to learn.’

  Jasmine was lost for words.

  ‘I think it’s best if you stay away from your mother for a few days at least,’ he added. ‘She’s terribly upset.’

  Jasmine knew enough about her parents to know both of them were upset and used each other’s reactions as excuses not to see her. Her father’s insistence over her mother’s reluctance could be read as his own and, while it pained her, she knew from experience there was little she could do about it. Once their minds were made up they were set in stone; there was simply nothing she could say or do to change them.

  She went to work with steps that dragged. Never had she felt less like facing the problems of others. Her own were banking up behind her, threatening to overwhelm her.

  She sat listening with one ear to the lament of yet another recovering addict who had some sort of axe to grind over why he wasn’t receiving the sort of support he wanted, all the time wondering to herself who was going to support her over this new obstacle.

  Todd, the other counsellor, tossed the morning paper on the desk in front of her at lunch time.

  ‘I didn’t know we had someone famous working amongst us,’ he said with a grin.

  Jasmine gave him a twisted half-smile and opened the paper.

  She was on page ten.

  It wasn’t a particularly flattering photo. One of the shoestring straps of her dress had slipped, revealing a little more of her upper cleavage than was commonly seen in the Montford parish.

  She looked furtive and guilty.

  She slammed the paper shut and scowled.

  ‘I’ll kill him.’

  ‘Who?’ Todd asked. ‘The photographer?’

  ‘No.’ She spun herself out of the office chair. ‘The man I slept with.’

  Todd’s eyebrows rose.

  ‘It’s not what you think.’ She turned back to look at him.

  ‘I’m not thinking anything.’ Todd held up his hands in a gesture of innocence.

  ‘I hate him to hell and back.’

  ‘Strong words from a bishop’s daughter.’

  ‘I’m being disowned because of that jerk!’

  ‘Maybe he’s done you a favour.’ Todd’s expression was wry.

  She turned away and shuffled the papers on her desk.

  ‘I think I’ll take some time off,’ she said. ‘I need to get away until the dust settles.’

  ‘That’s fine. I’ll keep an eye on your clients for you.’

  ‘Thanks, Todd.’ She gave him a grateful half-smile. ‘I really appreciate it.’

/>   The New South Wales south coast had been a bolt-hole for Jasmine for as long as she could remember. For years she’d been driving out of the noise and activity of Sydney to the solitude of long, lonely beaches where her footprints in the sand were the only ones left there all day. She found the roar of the waves therapeutic, calming the inner tension she nearly always felt when surrounded by her family.

  One of her mother’s friends allowed her to use their little holiday house on their block, a short walk from Pelican Head. It wasn’t flash, but it was safe and secure and without a telephone so no one could find her. Lately she’d found she needed more and more time alone; solitude was becoming as addictive as some of the substances her clients at the clinic were in the clutches of. It was only when she was alone she felt safe from her family’s disapproval. She saw it in their eyes whenever they focused on her: Jezebel, temptress, sinner.

  The trouble was, no one could understand.

  No one could possibly understand.

  She put her few things in the beach house and, hiding the key in its usual place under a log near the tallest of the three gum trees, made her way to the beach.

  The autumn wind had picked up, stirring the waves into frenzy as they lashed at the shore. Jasmine tied her long hair back with a hair-tie and faced the wind full on, closing her eyes and breathing in the salt and spray like a restorative drug.

  She sighed with pleasure and began walking, her feet sinking in the water-soaked sand. She trudged on, determined to walk off the image of Connor Harrowsmith’s sardonic face.

  She still couldn’t believe she’d mistakenly gone into his room, especially as she hadn’t really wanted to stay in the hotel in the first place. Sam had insisted, saying she didn’t want her wedding day memories spoilt with the news of someone being killed on the way home through drink-driving. Well, her wedding memories were probably going to be spoilt anyway once she heard about the press release involving her sister and the best man.

  The best man! Huh! He was the worst man. Just the sort of man she avoided at all costs—too handsome and too rich to be responsible for his reckless actions. He drove fast cars and gallivanted around the world’s hot spots, all the time in search of the ultimate experience.