Secretary Wife

Secretary Wife Page 9

by Rachel Lindsay

  'What's that?'

  'Take the odd evening off and go out with another man.'

  'Carl would hate it,' she protested.

  'No, he wouldn't. You're a young and lovely woman and you can't hide that fact. Your marriage isn't real, and you're pining for masculine atten­tion.'

  Angrily she shook her head. 'I'm not looking for a love affair.'

  'I didn't say you were. I said masculine atten­tion. You want to feel you're being seen as a woman.'

  It was a perceptive comment, but she was wary of admitting it.

  'We're arguing for nothing, Duncan. I don't know any man who would be willing to act as an admiring escort to a married woman who has a "don't touch me" sign round her neck!'

  'I do,' he said promptly. 'I'll get him to call you.'

  She pretended to search for her compact and dabbed powder on cheeks that were suddenly pink.

  'You look even lovelier when you blush,' he said softly and, as she did not answer, he pushed back his chair and rose.

  Outside the hotel he saw her into a taxi and paid the driver. 'Thank you for lunching with me, Laura. I enjoyed it very much.'

  'I should be the one to thank you for taking pity on me. Goodbye, Duncan.'

  'Au revoir. It's a more appropriate word for us to use.'

  There was no need to ask him what he meant. The look in his eyes told her, and she pondered on it during the long journey back to Holly Grove and hoped she was not going to regret her luncheon with him. She liked Duncan as a friend, nothing more, and it would be embarrassing if he did not realise it.

  Carl was delighted when he heard Laura had been out with Duncan and when the lawyer came to dinner a few evenings later, he referred to it.

  'I'm glad Laura went out with you. If I don't go to the office, she has a bad habit of hovering round me and being solicitous. I'd be happy for her to get out much more than she does.'

  'There you are, Laura,' Duncan said, staring her full in the face. 'Let's fix a date now. You see you have Carl's permission.'

  'You'll need my permission too,' she told him, and was glad when the conversation turned to a new contract which Carl was negotiating with a Swedish architect.

  But that night, when she was alone with Carl, she asked him why he had deliberately pushed Dun­can into asking her out.

  'Because it's in your best interest,' he replied. 'Duncan likes you, and it would do you good to go dancing or to the theatre.'

  'You can take me to the theatre,' she said quickly.

  'I'm not in the mood.'

  'Do you think I am?'

  He was silent, his face half averted so that she saw only his profile, which gave away nothing of his thoughts. 'I like to have cheerful people around me,' he said tonelessly. 'If you stay glued to my side you'll lose your efficacy.'

  'I didn't know you wanted me to be your clown!' she said tartly.

  'Laura, please.' He leaned forward in his chair, his jaw set firm. 'Don't you know how guilty I feel at what I've done to your life? I should never have married you.'

  I'm glad you did. I mean it, Carl.'

  'That only makes me feel worse for taking advant­age of your sympathy. But if I could believe you were having some amusement—that I haven't robbed you of two years of your youth…'

  She hesitated. The best way to stop Carl from being conscience-stricken for spoiling her life was to tell him she had married him because she loved him. But this would make him feel even more guilty and could affect the friendship that had sprung up between them and on which he relied. All she could do was to agree to go out with Duncan, even though she would prefer to spend every wak­ing moment with the man in front of her.

  'Very well, Carl. I'll do as you want. But tell me, does your open-mindedness extend only to Dun­can?'

  'Is there another man you know?' he asked in­stantly.

  'Of course not. The question was academic'

  'I see. For a moment I thought…' He relaxed and smiled. 'You once told me you have unfathom­able depths, but I'd hate to think there was a man swimming around in them!'

  'What a Jungian concept!'

  He chuckled and unexpectedly reached for her hand. His physical gestures towards her were rare and, since the night of their marriage, he had never kissed her. Now he raised her hand to his lips. 'You're the only woman who has never bored me and the only one who answers me back without los­ing her temper.'

  'No woman would dare to lose her temper with you!' she said, anxious to keep sentiment out of this scene in case she burst into tears.

  'You're right,' he agreed. 'Whenever they showed signs of it, I dropped them like a hot potato. I've had to fight so much in my business life that I always wanted things easy in my emotional one.'

  'Is that why you went from woman to woman?' she asked.

  'They all bored me. They were so obvious in what they wanted.'

  'You were pretty obvious too,' she said drily.

  'Sexual attraction is a strong motivation.' His voice was equally dry. 'But now it's over. In some ways, that's a relief.'

  He released her hand and spun his chair towards the door. Laura ran across to open it for him and he turned as though to stop her. The movement altered the angle of his chair and she knocked against the footrest.

  He gave a sharp cry of pain and she bent to­wards him. His hands were squeezing the arms of the chair and beads of perspiration were erupting on his upper lip. It was incredible that knocking against his chair should cause him such intense pain, and she wondered fearfully if anything else was wrong.

  'I'll fetch Mary,' she said swiftly, and raced up the stairs.

  By the time she and the nurse returned, Carl was in control of himself. 'You fuss too much, Laura. There's nothing the matter with me.'

  'But you were in pain. I saw it.'

  'Well, I'm not in pain any more, so forget it.'

  But far into the night Laura remembered the agony on his face and wondered fearfully if the two years to live—which Mr Edwards had given him—had been over-optimistic.

  CHAPTER TEN

  EARLY the next morning Laura went in search of Mary to see how Carl was.

  'I don't care what he said last night,' she reiter­ated. 'I'm sure he was in intense pain. Can't you persuade him to see Mr Edwards again?'

  'Mr. Anderson called him a little while ago,' Mary said, 'and he's coming over this morning.'

  Though this was exactly what Laura wanted, she was desperately afraid at what the outcome of the visit might be. Without stopping to think, she ran into Carl's bedroom. It was only as she saw his face that she took a hold of herself. To show him how afraid she was would serve no purpose other than to distress him. With an enormous effort, she forced a smile to her lips.

  'Good morning, Carl. I came in to see if you're going to the office today.'

  'I'm not sure. I'm expecting Mr Edwards here any moment.'

  'Here?' she asked with pretended surprise.

  'Yes. There's no point in you and me having any secrets about my health. That attack last night might be the beginning—or perhaps I should say the beginning of the end.'

  'I think you're being unnecessarily pessimistic'

  'I'd believe that more easily if you didn't look so tragic' The brusqueness of Carl's tone made her take control of herself.

  'I'm sorry, Carl. I—I've never been good at act­ing.'

  Even as she spoke she knew what a lie this was. Her ability to hide her love for this big, silver blond man was the greatest performance any woman could have given.

  'Smile at me,' he ordered.

  Obediently she curved her mouth and hoped he did not see the bleakness in her eyes. 'Would you mind if I spoke to Mr Edwards after he's seen you?' she asked.

  'Most wives do,' Carl shrugged.

  'My position is somewhat different.'

  'Very different,' he agreed. 'And because of it, you have every right to talk to Mr Edwards.' He patted the bed. 'Come and sit beside me.'

  Nervously she d
id so and Carl put his hand on hers.

  'Don't look so scared, Laura. I'm not going to bite you. I just want to have you close.' He pulled her nearer. 'I never had a sister. Perhaps if I had, I might be more understanding of the way women feel.'

  Her pleasure dissolved like snow in the sun, but she was careful not to show it. You've been very understanding with me, Carl.'

  'Have I?' His look was wry. 'I suppose that comes from our sharing a home; and then you know all about my work—which means I can talk to you about my problems. It's funny, but sometimes I—'

  He stopped as there was a tap at the door and Mary came in, saw her patient was respectable and then opened the door wider to usher in the surgeon.

  Laura murmured a greeting and went out. She remained in the downstairs hall, unwilling to go into the drawing room in case the specialist left without her hearing him. The examination seemed to take a long time and she was in a state of agita­tion by the time she saw Mr Edwards coming to­wards her. She led him at once into the drawing room where coffee was waiting and, when she had poured him a cup, asked as emotionlessly as she could whether Carl's illness was progressing faster than he had anticipated.

  'I cannot answer that question until I've done a more detailed examination of your husband,' he replied. 'I've arranged for him to be taken into hospital today.' He saw Laura change colour and added quickly: 'Please don't be so distressed. Things may not be as bad as you believe.'

  'But you must think they are or you wouldn't be taking him to the hospital so quickly.'

  'You're misunderstanding me,' he assured her. 'I want to do some special tests, and they require a general anaesthetic '

  'How soon will you have the results?'

  'A couple of days.' He set his coffee cup on the trolley. 'Don't show him how worried you are, Mrs Anderson. He relies on your calmness.'

  Laura remembered this when she returned to Carl's room. True to her expectation, he made only a fleeting reference to his departure to the hospital, though he could not disguise his pallor. He was a highly intelligent man and undoubtedly knew what the results of these tests might be.

  Carl's stay in hospital was longer than Mr Ed­wards had said, and two days became ten. Carl was disturbed at the thought of Laura spending all her time with him and insisted she went out several times with Duncan. Knowing that to remonstrate with him would be bad for his peace of mind, she did as he asked, glad that she liked Duncan well enough not to be embarrassed at having him co-opted as her escort. The thought was wryly amusing. She regarded Duncan almost as a brother while Carl saw her as the sister he had never had. What a pity she could not see Carl as a brother too!

  'Have you given any thought to what you'll do when Carl dies?' Duncan asked, driving her home one evening after a visit to the theatre.

  'I don't want to think about it,' Laura said shortly.

  'You should.'

  'I suppose I'll travel,' she said slowly. 'I had made arrangements to leave Carl when he married Rose­mary, but after his accident I decided to stay.'

  'Ah yes. Carl mentioned you'd been going to leave him.'

  She glanced at Duncan and knew from his ex­pression that he had not guessed the real reason why she had wanted to leave Carl.

  'Do you have any particular country in mind?' Duncan asked.

  'I thought of going to Australia and then perhaps to America.'

  'Why not make it America first? I have the chance of taking over the New York office permanently.'

  The news surprised her, for Duncan seemed too English to settle anywhere else.

  'Lawyers are the same breed no matter where they are,' he remarked jokingly as she put her thoughts into words. 'I'm as happy working on the other side of the Atlantic as I am here. The only reason I haven't gone back to the States before now is because I wanted to be with you.'

  'I know Carl is extremely glad you're here,' she said hurriedly.

  'I'm not remaining here because of Carl,' Dun­can replied, 'and you know it. I'm in love with you and I want—'

  'No, Duncan, don't go on.'

  'I must. I want you to be my wife.'

  'I'm Carl's wife,' she said angrily. 'How can you ask me to be yours?'

  'I'm not a hypocrite.' he said firmly. 'Would you have preferred me to wait until Carl is dead before telling you how I feel? That would have been far worse—to wait for a man to die before admitting that you covet his wife! Besides, you aren't his wife in the real sense.'

  'That has nothing to do with it!'

  Duncan pulled into the kerb and stopped the car. 'Don't forget Rosemary. If it were not for her Carl would never have married you.'

  'Do you think I can forget that?' she said bitterly.

  'I'm not sure. You seem to see yourself as his guardian—the light in his darkness. But you're not. You're only a safety barrier for him; the woman who's keeping Rosemary at bay. He's using you, Laura, and he feels guilty about it. That's why he wants you to lead your own life. If you don't be­lieve me, ask him yourself.'

  'I don't need to,' she whispered, keeping her head down. 'He's already said as much to me.'

  'Then what more do you want?' Duncan slid across the seat and put his arm lightly across her shoulders. 'I know you don't love me, but you like me and we get on well together. I'm sure that once you're free you'll start to give vent to your real feelings.'

  With all her heart Laura realised that what Dun­can said was true. But unhappily it was the exact opposite. Carl's death would not leave her free to love someone else but would put her into a state of perpetual mourning. It was hard enough to lose someone with whom you shared happiness, but to lose them without ever having the chance of finding happiness with them only heightened one's sense of loss. Yet she dared not say this to Duncan for fear he told Carl.

  'We won't talk about it any more,' he murmured, pressing his lips to her temple. 'I only want you to know I love you and that one day I hope you will be my wife.'

  Without waiting for her reply, he released her and set the car in motion. They drove the rest of the way in silence and at the front door he caught her hand and held it tightly.

  'May I see you tomorrow, Laura? I've got papers for Carl to sign and I can meet you at the hospital.'

  'I don't want to go out with you tomorrow, Dun­can.'

  'I have tickets for the Festival Hall,' he reminded her. 'You said you wanted to hear a concert perform­ance of Der Rosenkavalier.'

  'You make it difficult for me to refuse.'

  'Good. In that respect I'm like Carl. We're both men who won't take no for an answer.'

  'Birds of a feather,' she said with an effort at lightness. 'Is that why you're such good friends?'

  'Possibly. We trust each other too. That's more important than anything else.'

  'Then don't betray his trust!' she said suddenly.

  'Do you think I would?' Duncan asked sharply. Carl knows I love you. I told him so!'

  'You had no right,' she cried.

  'But he's delighted by it. It's what he's been hoping for!'

  This was more than Laura could take in, and muttering goodnight, she ran into the house. Was Duncan telling the truth? Did Carl feel such re­morse at having tied her to him—even for such a short time—that his conscience could only be ap­peased if he believed that marriage to him had enabled her to meet the one man she could truly loved? Or did he have such a sense of responsibility towards her that he could only rest easy if he knew her future was assured with a man in whom he had implicit trust? Either way it was unthinkable. She did not love Duncan and not even for Carl could she contemplate being his wife.

  At mid-morning the following day a bouquet of red roses arrived for her and, seeing them, she was reminded of the time when Carl had sent Rose­mary a hundred golden ones. 'He's never sent me any flowers,' she thought, and was so annoyed with her self-pity that she fussed over Duncan's flowers as if they meant something to her. If only one could fall in love to order—how simple everything would be.

&
nbsp; She was thinking of this when she entered Carl's room in the hospital and at once noticed the row of new novels on the window ledge.

  'From Duncan,' he told her, intercepting her glance.

  'He's certainly been busy this morning,' she said, and regretted her words as Carl raised an eyebrow. 'Don't tell me he's sent you books as well?'

  'Flowers,' she murmured. 'You know how—how punctilious he is about doing the right thing.'

  'Duncan didn't send flowers out of politeness. He's in love with you.'

  She felt her face grow warm and knew from the gleam in Carl's eyes that he had noticed it.

  'Don't try and fool me,' he continued. 'We've always been honest with each other. I'm glad he's in love with you. It's what I've wanted.'

  'You're unflatteringly eager to be rid of me.' Even as she spoke, she knew how silly her words were. Here was Carl trying to be as honest as he knew how, while she was shying away from the truth like a startled colt. Yet try as she could, it was im­possible for her to be as fatalistic about the future as this big, quietly controlled man lying in the bed in front of her.

  'Rogers came to see me this morning.' Abruptly Carl reverted to business. 'He's leaving the com­pany and joining Mastins.'

  'The enemy camp,' she said indignantly.

  'They're welcome to him. I've been angling for his resignation for months…'

  'Whatever for?'

  'Because you don't like him—though you still haven't told me what he said to you that day when he called you into his office. Will you tell me now?'

  'It's so long ago I've forgotten it,' she lied.

  'Well, I haven't. I can still see the look on your face when I found you leaning against the wall. There and then I made up my mind to make things so difficult for him that he would resign without my having to have a boardroom row to get rid of him. It took a bit of manoeuvring,' he added grimly, 'but I did it.'

  Though she knew he could be ruthless when it suited him, it was a shock to have it so openly dis­played, and she was glad she was not his enemy. Yet with women he must have a different attitude, for Rosemary—who deserved his most venomous dis­like—seemed not to have aroused it.

 

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