Secretary Wife

by Rachel Lindsay

  'I can never accuse you of using flattery to entice me.'

  'I've never tried to entice you.' The instant she spoke she regretted it, for he gave her a long look, one pale eyebrow raised.

  'You aren't obvious with your charms, Laura, but many women, far less pretty than you, get them­selves more attention.'

  'I don't want that kind of attention. I want to be seen as a person, not as some sexual object.'

  'Do I hear the strident plea of female emancipa­tion?' he smiled.

  'We all carry our freedom within us. One can't lay down hard and fast rules for everyone.'

  'Society can't live without rules, Laura. One has to protect the weak. And for centuries women have been weak and subservient to men because of their physical differences. The burden of childbirth and taking care of their offspring have been their most debilitating factors.'

  'Liberation won't lessen those,' Laura retorted. 'Most women will always find it a wrench to choose between their career and being with their children. It isn't just men's outlook towards women that will have to change—it's the entire role that men and women play in society.' Unwilling to become too serious, she gave a deprecating laugh. 'It's far too big a subject for us to talk about.'

  'It would also take too much of our time,' he said sombrely. 'And time is the one thing I don't have.'

  His hands clenched in a convulsive movement that gave away more than he realised. Laura's bones seemed to melt with tenderness for him. The urge to comfort him was so great that she could not stop herself and, bending down to his chair, she cradled his head in her arms.

  'Oh, Carl,' she whispered brokenly, 'if only there was something I could do!'

  'You're here with me,' he said indistinctly. 'That's all I need.'

  Three days after this incident, Carl told Laura he had invited Duncan Thorpe to lunch and, assuming it to be a business one, she said she would go into town and do some shopping.

  'That's what I like to hear,' he commented. 'Buy yourself lots of pretty things. I dislike seeing you in the same clothes all the time.'

  'I don't wear the same clothes,' she protested.

  'They seem that way to me.'

  He was blunt and truthful, the way she had always known him to be, and her hurt was over­taken by amusement, particularly when he said: 'Stop being a robin redbreast and become a pea­cock.'

  'A peahen,' she corrected. 'And they're very drab creatures!'

  'Don't confuse me with scientific facts,' he grinned. 'A peacock I said and a peacock I mean! Go out and do all the extravagant things I can't do for you.'

  Knowing that if he had been able to do them she would not be married to him, she felt her light-heartedness evaporate. But she was careful not to let him know and promised to dazzle him with a wardrobe in the primary colours.

  'Don't come back late,' he warned. 'I want to introduce Duncan to you.'

  'Will he still be here, then?'

  'I expect so. We have a lot to talk over. The only reason you haven't seen him before is that he's been in New York for the last year. They have an American office and he went over to ginger it up.'

  Deciding Duncan Thorpe could not be the old family lawyer she had envisaged, she looked forward to meeting him and, returning to the house later that afternoon, after a shopping spree which she hoped would satisfy Carl, she went into the study to take tea with the two men.

  'On time as always,' Carl said and, holding out his hand to her, looked at the man who had risen from the settee. 'Duncan, I would like to introduce you to my wife.'

  It was the first time Carl had called her his wife. Normally when he referred to her, he did so by her name. Laura held out her hand and felt it taken by a thin, hard-boned one, then looked up into deep-set eyes almost as pale a grey as Carl's. In every other respect Duncan Thorpe was different. At five feet nine he was several inches shorter than his client and was slim to the point of thinness. But the grip of his hand showed her he was all muscle and the fluid way he moved indicated that he did not rely for exercise solely on shifting a gearstick.

  'We meet at last, Mrs Anderson. I've heard a great deal about you.'

  She smiled and moved across to the tea trolley which José was wheeling forward. The lawyer was younger even than she had anticipated, and she found it difficult to imagine Carl taking advice from someone who was probably his own age.

  Sipping her tea and eating a scone while the two men talked, she had a better chance of judging their relationship. They were on Christian name terms and were obviously close friends, which was an­other fact she had not expected, for she had always considered Carl too busy to devote time to people—other than the women he had always found so neces­sary to him. Her hands trembled and she set her cup down. She was the only woman in his life now, and after her, there would be no one.

  'Carl tells me you used to work for him.' Duncan Thorpe was looking in her direction. 'I can see why he never let us have any of our meetings in his office. He was obviously keeping you hidden!'

  Laura glanced at Carl and, as if he knew what she was thinking, his eyes crinkled with wry amuse­ment.

  'Quit the act, Duncan,' he said. 'Laura knows you're the only intimate friend I have and she wouldn't expect me to lie to you about the reason for our marriage. She became my wife to save me from an even nastier fate, and in current terms, we're only platonic friends!'

  Laura reddened and wished Carl had not been so blunt, but she understood when he continued:

  'That's why she's been giving me such a hard time about taking my money. If you can persuade her to change her mind, I'd be eternally grateful to you.'

  'Give me time, Carl,' the lawyer replied. 'My motto is to make haste slowly.'

  It seemed a tactless remark to make in view of his friend's limited future, but glancing at him, Laura had the impression he had said it deliber­ately. Duncan himself confirmed this when he rose to take his leave and she went with him to the front door.

  'Carl knows his time is short and he wouldn't thank me if I pretended otherwise. Nor would he want me to monitor everything I said, in case it upset him. He's too clever not to see through such tact.' He held out his hand. 'I hope we'll meet again soon. If there's any way in which I can help you, don't hesitate to call me.'

  'I don't want Carl to leave me his money or the company,' she said abruptly. 'If you could talk him out of that, I'd be eternally grateful.'

  'I appreciate the way you feel, Laura, but some­times it's harder to accept than to refuse. I know you have your pride, but so has Carl. And that's all he does have. Don't take it away from him.'

  She sighed. 'I suppose he told you that himself?'

  'He didn't need to. It's obvious.' Duncan Thorpe's expression was speculative. 'Why do you have such a complex about taking anything from him? You have more right to it than anyone else in his life.'

  'I don't agree. I married him to—well, you know the reason. If I accepted his money, I'd be no better than Rosemary.'

  'You're entirely different from Rosemary.'

  'You know her?' Laura asked.

  'I met her in New York by chance. She came there after you and Carl got married.'

  Laura longed to know what he thought of Rose­mary, but training kept her silent, as training kept him from satisfying her curiosity.

  'Think over what I've said,' he reiterated. 'If giving you a secure future makes Carl happy, you should swallow your determination to be different from Rosemary, and do as he wishes.'

  She was still mulling over this highly charged advice when he got into his car and drove away. Was it only her determination to show Carl she was not another Rosemary that was making her refuse his desire to leave her all his possessions? How would she feel if their marriage was a genuine one?

  Without thinking, she knew the question of finance would never have arisen; when true love existed between a man and wife, there was no dividing line between his and hers.

  Thoughtfully she closed the front door. She must think carefull
y what to do.

  CHAPTER NINE

  TO Laura's surprise, Duncan became a frequent visitor to Holly Grove, dining with them once a week and always making up a fourth for bridge on Sunday evening.

  With all the will in the world Laura could not simulate an interest in cards, and on a Sunday she and Mary would go to the cinema. Having the nurse in the house was a constant source of comfort, for she was the only person with whom Laura had no need to pretend. When the bitterness she felt to­wards Rosemary exploded into something verbal, she had no need to monitor her outbursts if Mary was with her, and when her love for Carl depressed her, she did not have to hide it by a false smile.

  'It's all such a waste,' she exclaimed one Sunday, when her mood was especially low. 'Why did Carl have to be the one to fall from that scaffolding?'

  'That sort of question can never be answered. You should stop thinking about it.'

  'I can't.'

  'Do you want him to know you love him?'

  'Of course not.'

  'Then take a good look at yourself in the mirror. If you get any thinner, he'll begin to suspect there's something wrong with you—and it won't take him long to guess what it is. I hate having to use a cliché, but you've got to pull yourself together.'

  'How?' Laura asked bitterly. 'Do I run around pretending I'm looking forward to the future!'

  'You can at least stop looking as if the end of the world is imminent.'

  'It is for me.'

  There was a momentary silence. 'I'm sorry, Laura. I know how you feel, but since you keep saying you don't want him to know…

  'Thanks for reminding me,' Laura said. 'Though heaven knows how I can pretend I don't care.'

  'Find yourself something to do. Haven't you got a hobby?'

  'I haven't had much time for one. Even at week­ends I used to take work home from the office.'

  'A labour of love,' Mary smiled.

  'I never regarded it as labour of any kind. It was extremely interesting work. You don't need to be an architect or an engineer to know if building plans are good or bad. You just need common sense—which most architects don't seem to have!'

  'I've heard that comment before!' the nurse quipped.

  'It's Carl's favourite one,' Laura smiled. 'Maybe I'll start going to the office with him. At least it will give me something to do.'

  To Laura's surprise, Carl refused point blank to let her undertake any of the responsibilities she had once done as his secretary.

  'You are my wife and I won't have you acting as anything else,' he declared.

  'But I'm bored doing nothing.'

  'What do other wives do?'

  'They run a home and look after children.' She stopped. 'I'm sorry, Carl, that was a stupid thing to say.'

  It was a normal thing to say.'

  They were at the breakfast table, sitting opposite each other in the small room which gave on to the gaily tiled patio. In the summer the patio would catch the early morning sunshine and when the weather became less inclement they would be able to have breakfast there. But Carl would only have one season—at the most two—in which to enjoy it.

  'I'm sorry, Carl,' she said again.

  'I'm the one who should be sorry,' he said heavily. 'I seem to have done you out of a great deal. You're the type of woman who should be taking care of a home and bringing up her children.'

  She searched for the right words to say, but he gave her no chance.

  'Still, you're young and you'll have plenty of time to have a loving husband and a brood of chil­dren to give your life meaning.'

  'I wish you wouldn't say that,' she said unhappily.

  'Why not? I want to think of your future as a happy one. It gives me pleasure.'

  'It doesn't give me pleasure!' she cried. 'Please, Carl, I can't bear it when you talk of the future.'

  With an enormous effort she prevented herself from running from the table and fiercely concen­trated on her breakfast plate, counting every flower in the floral design. Had she given herself away to him? Certainly most men would have guessed how she felt, yet Carl still regarded her as his highly efficient and unemotional secretary—even though he wouldn't let her act as one. All she was was his secretary wife.

  'You should see more people of your own age,' he said abruptly. 'You must have had some sort of social life before you married me, but you never invite any of your friends here.'

  'I don't have many friends.'

  'From choice, I'm sure.'

  She shrugged. 'I was an only child and born late in my parents' life. It spoiled me for men and women of my own age. That's why I've always been happier with older people.'

  'Like me?' he teased and, pushing his wheelchair away from the table, glided to the window. 'We'll talk about this again later. I have an appointment in the office at ten. You're not to come with me,' he concluded, and went out.

  Laura remained at the breakfast table long after he had gone, and was still sitting there when the telephone rang. There was an extension in this room and she picked it up. It was Duncan, asking to speak to Carl.

  'You'll be able to reach him at the office in half an hour,' she said.

  Duncan thanked her, but instead of hanging up, went on talking.

  'You sound unusually subdued, Laura. Is any­thing wrong?'

  'Carl and I were just talking about what I can do to relieve my boredom.'

  'You can't be serious! You're far too intelligent to let yourself be bored.'

  'But I am,' she said wildly. 'Excruciatingly, in­describably bored!'

  There was a short silence, as if he was weighing up something. 'Are you free to have lunch with me?' he asked.

  'Oh, please,' she said guiltily. 'I didn't mean you to—'

  'You'll be doing me a favour,' he cut in. 'One o'clock at the Stafford.'

  She agreed and, putting down the telephone, found herself unaccountably pleased at the prospect of getting out of the house.

  At one o'clock she was waiting in the foyer of the Stafford Hotel, feeling elegant in a turquoise jersey dress and coat. Her dark brown hair, newly washed, had a reddish gleam to it and she had brushed it away from her face to fall behind her ears. It was a more sophisticated style than usual, and she was aware of a couple of men eyeing her appreciatively. How easily male attention could be caught. Fine feathers without doubt made fine birds!

  'Sorry to be late,' Duncan Thorpe came towards her, 'but I had to do a bit of juggling with my diary.'

  'You're making me feel guilty again,' she pro­tested.

  'Good. I always like to play on a woman's con­science!'

  She laughed and he cupped her elbow and escorted her into the dining room.

  'I suggest we have a drink at the table. It's quieter and we can talk.'

  'Business?' she queried.

  'Certainly not, this is a social lunch.'

  He was true to his word and during the meal talked about his stay in New York, which he con­sidered to be one of the most exciting cities in the world.

  'It has all the faults that people say it has,' he commented when they reached the coffee stage, 'but it also has a vitality that other cities lack. One feels an urgency to get things done and an eager­ness to conquer the World. You don't find that sort of mood here any more.'

  Laura was astonished to hear him talk like this, for she had always considered him to be ultra-conservative in his ideas.

  'Don't equate my character with my profession,' he said slyly, indicating that he knew exactly what she was thinking. 'You, for example, have always—at least until today—portrayed the perfect private secretary.'

  'Even though I'm Carl's wife?'

  'You don't act as if you were his wife.'

  'Because I don't feel it.' She stirred her sugarless coffee. 'I'm still the same girl I was when I worked for him, and I can't pretend otherwise.'

  'Yet you have changed. Today you're different from when I first met you.'

  'It's the dress,' she said. 'Carl asked me to wear brightly
coloured clothes.'

  'The fact that you did shows your own desire to change. Also the fact that you're bored. You want to explore a new world and find a new you.'

  She smiled. 'Are you a lawyer or a writer?'

  'With you I undoubtedly become lyrical!'

  They both laughed, but Laura found he had put into words a restlessness she had not clearly under­stood until this moment. It was warming to know that another person was able to express her mood; it made her feel less alone. She gave him another, warmer smile and he echoed it, his thin face creas­ing into many lines. He was not good-looking, but he had a definite charm and an urbane sophistica­tion that added to it. He was less dynamic than Carl, yet in his quiet way he was just as strong.

  'Tell me why you are bored,' he asked. 'Surely there are many things you can do to occupy your­self?'

  'It isn't only my mind that needs occupying,' she confessed, 'it's my emotions. I need a loving hus­band and children and, like an idiot, I said so to Carl.'

  'He didn't need you to tell him that. It's because he's aware of it himself that he wants to leave you well provided for.'

  'I don't regret marrying, Carl, you know. Faced with the same decision, I would do it again.'

  'That's what makes you a nice girl, Laura. All I can add is that you won't be living this way for long. When Carl is dead—'

  'Must you talk about it too?' she cried. 'Carl does, and I can't bear it!'

  He looked at her for a few seconds and then said: 'A good nurse or doctor tries to remain detached from their patient. You should be well advised to do the same.'

  'I'm not Carl's nurse or doctor. For three years he's been a close part of my life.'

  'He still doesn't want you to become emotional.'

  'What do you suggest I do? Keep a stiff upper lip?'

  'That's it exactly. Find yourself a job if need be. But get out of the house and start to live a life of your own.'

  'I don't want to be out of the house on a regular basis. I never know when Carl is likely to need me. As time goes on he's bound to get more depressed and—and—'

  'And you want to be there?' Duncan patted her hand. 'Very well, Laura, there's only one other thing you can do.'