by Jane Corrie
`I realise that what I'm about to ask you will come as a shock to you,' Julian Cridell said in his well-modulated voice, his grey eyes meeting Melanie's startled pansy-blue as she glanced up at him, certain now that he was going to give her notice. 'I need a wife, Miss Greensmith,' he said calmly, and there was a hint of amusement in his normally austere look as he surveyed Melanie's reaction to this statement.
Never one to hide her thoughts, she blinked at him, wondering if she had misheard, then, as a possible solution came to her, she said dully, 'Oh, I see. You mean that once you're married you won't need a companion for Celia.'
`There wouldn't be any need, would there?' he replied in his precise voice. 'Not when you get on so well together.'
Melanie felt that somewhere she had missed out. Perhaps she ought to go out and come back in again, and they could start over again. 'You mean, I'm to stay on after your marriage?' she said, trying not to sound a simpleton.
A wry twist of his mouth acknowledged her bemusement as he said, 'I don't seem to be doing this at all well; we seem to be at cross purposes. I am asking you to become my wife,' and at Melanie's amazed stare at this cool but utterly devastating request, he went on, 'I am aware that you must be of the opinion that I have taken leave of my senses, and I can't blame you for that, but I can put your mind at rest on one point. The marriage will be in name only.
A business contract, if you like, for an unspecified period. It could be for two years, even one, if things work out. Either way, you'll have no cause to regret accepting my offer. On the annulment you will receive a handsome settlement that will ensure a future free from monetary worries. What do you say?' he asked abruptly.
Melanie was bereft of speech, but it did cross her mind that Julian Cridell had a nasty habit of taking the wind out of her sails. This was the second time in their relatively short acquaintance that he had completely floored her.
While she was still gasping for breath, another thought presented itself, and she was back in that line-up at the Savoy. 'Did you have this in mind when you carried out the interview ?' she asked, as she came up for air.
A grim smile appeared on Julian's face. 'Yes,' he replied; his eyes, now devoid of any amusement met Melanie's incredulous ones. 'I did, and until you turned up, I thought that it was going to be a complete waste of time.'
Well, that was honest, anyway, thought Melanie. Especially when she remembered the other applicants. He wouldn't have wanted to put the offer he had just made her to just anybody. She also recalled his remark to Celia about her not standing on ceremony, and felt somehow deflated. He had recognised a bluestocking, and knew he was safe from any feminine wiles that might be attempted at a later date.
`Well?' he asked again, this time a little impatiently.
Melanie tried to marshal her thoughts, and she felt a little annoyed at his calm assumption that she would jump at the chance of becoming his wife, if only in name, with a rosy promise of riches to follow. She
might be a bluestocking but she did have some values. You couldn't play at 'Mr and Mrs' as if you were children.
Seeing her obvious reluctance, Julian, who had thought that he had correctly assessed his chosen actress for the role he had in mind, found that a little more persuasion would be needed to carry the day. 'I see I shall have to put you into the picture,' he said, in a tone that suggested that she really ought to have trusted him and not sought further assurance. 'I divorced my first wife twelve years ago,' he stated flatly. 'It was a disastrous marriage, entered into when both parties were too young to know their own minds. As you see, I have custody of Celia. I've always had custody, and I mean to keep her.' His mouth twisted sardonically as he added, 'It didn't suit my ex-wife to have a child about the house, and she was only too willing to waive her rights.
`However, that was then, and now it appears that she's contemplating matrimony again, and is set to contest my right to keep the child. Her one strong point will be the fact that I haven't remarried—in other words, that Celia is being brought up in a one-parent situation. She feels that if she can convince the courts that she can offer Celia a good home in a two-parent family, she will regain her right to have her. I don't intend that that should happen,' he said grimly. `Not even on a once-a-week-visiting basis.'
He looked at Melanie, and she was amazed by the ferocity in that look; although she knew it was not directed at her, nevertheless she felt that Julian Cridell would make a powerful enemy if one happened to be on the wrong side of the fence.
`And that,' he said harshly, 'is the full sum of it. I suppose,' he added reluctantly, 'you'll need time to
come to a decision, although under the circumstances, my word ought to have been enough for you. Perhaps you'll think it over and give me your answer this evening.'
Melanie blinked. This evening! He wasn't really giving her much time, was he? Still, it was something, she thought, as she nodded her approval of even this short notice.
As she left the study her thoughts were in a whirl, and all she wanted was to go somewhere she could come to terms with the startling proposal that she had just received. But she hadn't reckoned on meeting Celia, who had obviously been on the watch for her.
`Come and watch Popsie jump a hurdle I've fixed up for her,' she said coaxingly, giving Melanie no chance of escape by linking her arm in hers and all but dragging her out of the house.
While she watched Popsie, Celia's new pony, giving her display, Melanie's thoughts were still buzzing with the extraordinary event that had taken place in Julian Cridell's study. One thing kept going through her mind. In his determination to keep Celia, he was not really being entirely fair to her mother—or to Celia, come to that.
No matter what had happened in the past—and he did say that they had been very young when they married—she was still Celia's mother, and surely it was natural that she would want Celia with her, particularly when she was at a stage when a mother's guidance was needed. What right had he to deny her that? To not even allow her access on a once-a-week basis seemed very hard to Melanie, and entirely unfair to Celia.
Melanie sighed inwardly. She had thought there must be a catch in the job somewhere, and what ;
catch! And to think that Julian Cridell had sat so composedly behind that desk in the Savoy, interviewing not only for a companion for his daughter, but for a wife as well ! Her earlier imaginings of a harem potentate hadn't been all that far out, she thought as she saw Celia trotting towards her on Popsie, and she gave another sigh. It had been nice while it lasted, but no way could she lend herself to a situation like that; she would now have to look for another job.
`Well?' demanded Celia. 'Don't you think she's good? I shall be able to raise that bar a bit higher as soon as she gets a bit more used to it.'
Melanie nodded absentmindedly. It was hard to concentrate on something as unimportant as Popsie's jumps while her mind was elsewhere.
Celia took the saddle off the pony, and with a light tap on her rump sent her off to graze in the paddock, then settled herself on the paddock fence next to Melanie. 'What did you say to Dad's proposal?' she asked, with one eye on the browsing pony and the other on Melanie's reaction.
Melanie stared at her, She couldn't possibly know, she thought. Perhaps her father had made some excuse for wanting to speak to Melanie in private.
`Oh, come on!' Celia said coaxingly. 'I do hope you agreed. It will get us out of a hole, you know, and we do get on, don't we?'
Melanie was still not certain that they were talking about the same thing, so she played it by ear. `So you know what your father was going to ask me?' she said.
Celia nodded. 'We don't have any secrets from each other,' she replied frankly. 'At least, not on something as important as this. Well, what did you say? You didn't turn him down, did you?' she demanded incredulously.
Melanie looked away from her accusing eyes. 'I'm going to think about it,' she said, then added quickly, `Look, I'm not sure that you do know the whole of it, and I'd rather you ask
ed your father about it.'
Celia grinned, and suddenly she was a thirteen year-old again, and not the all-too-serious adult she so often seemed to be. 'Dad asked you to marry him, right? Because Mother's decided she wants me with her.'
Melanie looked at Celia. Well, that was clear enough, she thought. Celia certainly did know. 'Don't you want to see your mother?' she asked, her blue eyes searching Celia's dark ones.
Celia shook her head in no uncertain manner. 'No, thank you,' she said firmly, and at Melanie's raised brows, added, 'I'll tell you something that I never told Dad. I spent a term at a school in Switzerland two years ago, and Mother found out and came to see me. She lives in Italy, you know. Her mother was Italian.' She shrugged her shoulders. 'Of course I wanted to meet her. I didn't remember anything about her, you see. Dad never mentioned her, so when she suggested I spend some of my free time with her, I jumped at it.' Her black eyes narrowed as she went back in time. `She's an actress, you know, and quite famous, really.' She scuffed her sandals on the lower paddock rail. 'I suppose that was why she didn't want to be bothered with a baby, and certainly didn't intend to stay at home and look after me. Well, as I said, I did stay with her at her hotel, and the first day or so, it was wonderful, everyone bowing and scraping to her, and men falling over themselves to escort her to whatever party she'd decided to go to. She's beautiful, of course—and she knows it.' The last statement was made in a cynical tone that surprised Melanie.
`She didn't want people to know that I was her daughter, and luckily we weren't that much alike. I take after Dad in looks, but I suppose everybody more or less guessed, because she's not the sort of person to take to a child. Too much competition, of course,' added Celia, this time with an engaging grin that took the cynicism out of the statement.
Even more so in a few years' time. Melanie thought inwardly. Celia was a lovely child. As a woman she would be devastating.
`I never told Dad about seeing my mother, let alone staying with her,' Celia went on, 'but I'm glad that I did go, because I found out a lot about her. Enough to know that it's not me she's after, it's Dad. She never got over the fact that he divorced her. She's so used to adoration, and having everything her way, that she really thought she could keep him and all the glamour of her work as well.'
Melanie was beginning to understand, but one thing puzzled her.
`I don't see how my marrying your father will alter anything,' she said frankly. 'I mean, if your mother is set on making life difficult for your father by trying to get you back, marriage wouldn't change anything, would it?'
Celia gave her a pitying look. 'It changes everything, from her point of view,' she said firmly. 'This story about her getting married again is just Scotch mist. It's meant to force Dad into taking her back again. Don't you see. She's still in love with him. Goodness, she could have got married any time during the last twelve years! There's an old Count—well, I don't suppose he's all that old,' she amended, 'who's crazy about her and follows her around all the stage locations, and she could have him by lifting her little
finger, but no, it's Dad she wants. She kept telling me how happy we would all be together if he'd only give her another chance.'
Some of Melanie's thoughts showed in her face, for Celia said indignantly, It's true, I tell you! She keeps having a go at him to take her back. That's why we take off on those trips abroad. Dad has someone who tips him off when she's due to come over here to do some work, and it saves a lot of emotional scenes if we keep clear of her. I told you she was half Italian, didn't I, and they go in for big scenes. Dad hates them, and you can imagine what life would be like if he was ever stupid enough to take her back, but he won't. Whatever he felt for her vanished when she took off with a film director when I was barely a year old.' She caught Melanie's hand. `Do say yes!' she pleaded. `You'll never regret it. She won't give up until Dad does marry again. She's convinced herself that he's not married because he's still in love with her and all that trash. Surely you can see that that threat of hers to get me back is just hogwash. She doesn't stand a chance—not after the way she deserted us all those years ago. All she can hope for are a few odd visits of mine to her now and again, and she won't take that on when she realises that she has no hope whatsoever of Dad taking her back.'
Celia jumped off the fence in an impatient action that said more than words for her distaste for the subject of their conversation. 'Besides,' she said quietly, 'she's nobody's fool. She's getting a bit past the young heroine roles she usually plays, and she's not exactly a character actress. It's the future she's looking to. Dad's a very rich man, you know, and she likes expensive things, I don't suppose she's saved much all these years; her life-style is too extravagant.'
When Melanie did eventually get back to her room, she had plenty to think about, and not a great deal of time to play with.
CHAPTER THREE
MELANIE CRIDELL, née Greensmith, listened to the monotonous drone of the plane's engines, and closed her eyes. Although she ought to have been lulled into sleep, as indeed her charge was one seat away from her, her mind was too active to allow her such luxury.
If she opened her eyes just a slit to glance at her hands resting on her lap, she would see a wedding ring of fine gold filigree on the third finger of her left hand, and on top of that an imposing cluster of diamonds on an engagement ring.
Her sleepy glance caught a movement on her right, and landed on the strong, lean hand of the man seated next to her as he turned over a sheet of a sheaf of figures he was studying. Melanie's glance stayed on that hand with its strong wrist, noting the fine, dark hairs that slightly overlapped his gold watch.
That man was her husband. He went with the rings on her left hand, and with a lucrative job that would pay a large dividend when the extraordinary contract that she had entered into was terminated, in two years', or maybe only one year's time.
Melanie tore her glance away from Julian Cridell's hand. She had to remember to call him Julian, and not Mr Cridell, but it wasn't going to be easy for her, she thought, considering that she had been addressing him as Mr Cridell up until the register office wedding a day ago.
Of course it wasn't real; nothing was real, she told herself. She had entered a dream world from the
moment she had joined that bevy of women who had answered the advertisement in The Times for a companion for a thirteen-year-old girl.
But Aunt Alice was real, she told herself drowsily, and if anything, it could all be laid at her aunt's door for being silly enough to alter her widowed status and marry that awful Arthur Makin, whose image could still give Melanie the shivers when she recalled it. Oh, yes, he was real enough!
Perhaps, Melanie mused, too tired now even to open her eyes, it was all Jane and Chris's fault for deciding to get married and use the flat she had hoped to share with Jane. She shifted restlessly, and felt rather then saw a slight movement on her right; not wanting to cause Julian Cridell any trouble, she kept still until he had settled back to his previous occupation.
It was extraordinary, she thought, how a man who barely knew her, even though he had asked her to marry him within a fortnight of their acquaintance, could be so attuned to her misgivings—and there had been plenty of those when the proposition was put to her.
She felt a light touch on her arm and opened her eyes to meet Julian's grey, enigmatic eyes.
`Do you want some refreshment?' he asked, in his well-modulated voice.
Melanie shook her head.
`No, thank you,' she replied, and glanced at the sleeping form of Celia on her left.
At this point the girl stirred in her sleep, and suddenly woke up, her dark eyes with their astonishing black winged brows twinkling wickedly at Melanie as they went off to sleep again.
Melanie's glance went back to the rings on her left
hand. Rightly or wrongly, she had succumbed to Celia's entreaties, and had agreed to accept Julian Cridell's proposal. As Celia had so saliently pointed out, 'We get on together, don't we
? All of us? And Dad wouldn't have asked you if he wasn't sure that we'd all suit. It could well be a permanent arrangement, you know,' she had ended meaningly, to Melanie's embarrassment.
That, Melanie thought with a small ironic twist of her lips, was Celia. At times so grown up it was difficult to realise that she was only thirteen : Melanie had wondered if it was because she had been brought up entirely by her father that she had such an adult outlook on life. The fact that she heartily disliked her mother was sad, but then she had had an opportunity during her earlier years of observing her and making her own judgment on the matter. There was also the fact that she adored her father, and fiercely guarded over his interests, as indeed Julian Cridell did over his daughter's.
Melanie was not too sure that Celia's biased opinion that her mother was still in love with her father, was strictly true, although it did point that way; why else should she bother to make those harrowing visits to Oaklands each time she was in the country? If Celia's descriptive reports on the emotional scenes that occurred were only half true, it was small wonder that the Cridell´s went to some lengths to avoid them.
`She would start off by being the long-suffering spurned wife, who still cared for her family,' Celia had said, during one of her persuasive bouts to get Melanie to accept her father's offer, 'and when that didn't work, out would come the fireworks.' Melanie recalled the bleakness in Celia's eyes when she had told her this. 'I was always terrified that Dad would give in to
her, if only to avoid those ghastly scenes, and frightened of all the misery we'd have to put up with if he did,' she had added.
At this point Melanie must have fallen asleep, lulled at last by the inducing throb of the plane's engines, and the next she knew, she was being touched on the shoulder by Julian, who told her to fasten her seat belt because they were landing in Miami.
