Secretary Wife

by Rachel Lindsay

  'Off with the old and on with the new,' she said tautly.

  'Be quiet,' he said. 'Be quiet and kiss me.'

  Startled, she stared at him and, with a speed that surprised her, he pushed her back against the cushions and pressed his mouth hard on hers. It was a kiss that held no tenderness, only a pent-up long­ing that he could no longer hold in check. Again and again his mouth drained hers and though she tried to resist him, she soon found that her need of him was making her defence a weak and puny thing. Bitterly she knew she was coming in for the backlash of emotion which Rosemary had left un­satisfied. When she was alone she would hate her­self for not fighting him, but at least she would have a memory to dwell on in the dismal future. Winding her arms around his neck, she pulled him closer.

  Feeling her response, the pressure of his mouth softened. His body was trembling and the weight of it was heavy upon her, pushing her deeper into the softness of the settee. One arm lay behind her and unexpectedly he used it to raise himself and look deep into her eyes.

  'You're very sweet, Laura. Sweeter than I dreamed.'

  She gazed back at him, wishing she could find a deeper meaning in his words. Of course she was sweet. She had married him to help him keep free of Rosemary and she was letting him kiss her for the same reason. In every way she was a paragon of wives.

  'I don't find it flattering to be used as a stand-in,' she said evenly, and saw the silver grey irises darken as though a shadow were passing over them.

  'Stand-in?' he echoed.

  'Why else are you kissing me? You still love Rosemary and I'm still your best way of fighting her. I don't mind,' she said coolly, 'but don't let us pretend it's anything more. After all, I married you knowing the truth, and I have no regrets about it.'

  'Even though you know it's going to be for longer than two years?' he questioned.

  'So what?' Deliberately she made her voice light, surprised at how uncaring it sounded.

  It surprised him too, for he pulled away com­pletely and rested against the corner of the settee. As he sat there, the rug tumbled around him, his hair awry, it was hard to believe he could not stand up and walk. She tried not to think of this, afraid that the knowledge would weaken her into showing her love for him.

  'I enjoy being married to you, Carl. I have a beautiful home, plenty of money to spend and no one to tell me what to do.'

  'A full and varied life,' he said bitterly.

  'As full and varied as I require.'

  'When are you seeing Duncan again?'

  The question was unexpected, but she took it in her stride. 'Why are you so curious to know? Are you hoping I'll fall in love with him and leave you?'

  'You need love.'

  'That wasn't what I asked,' she said quietly. 'If you want me to go, all you have to do is to tell me.'

  'Of course I don't want you to go!' Carl spoke so fast that the words seemed to rush out. 'But I feel guilty for tying you to me. It was supposed to be for two years, Laura, not a lifetime.'

  'I'll let you know when I want to leave,' she said. 'Now can we stop talking about it?'

  'Just one thing more.' Carl's eyes were two prob­ing points of grey. 'Has Duncan asked you to marry him?'

  Her sharp, indrawn breath gave him his answer and he leaned back against the settee. 'What did you tell him?'

  'I said no.'

  'Out of loyalty to me?'

  'Partly,' she lied, 'and partly because I don't love him.'

  'Don't?' he asked. 'Or won't?'

  She was silent. Carl's persistence puzzled her. Did his desire to have her leave him stem from a wish to have her live a fulfilled life, or did it come from his own personal regret at having married her?

  'I'm damned if I'm going to die and leave Rose­mary a rich widow!' he had once said. But things had changed since then and he might now want to make her his wife.

  'What are you thinking of?' he asked, breaking into her thoughts.

  'Of you. You say you feel guilty for spoiling my life, but wouldn't it be more true to say you're con­cerned with the way you've spoiled your own?'

  Surprisingly he laughed. 'I like you when you're being sharp. It's a departure from the norm.'

  'You haven't answered my question. If you were free, would you marry Rosemary?'

  'The bell,' he replied. 'Would you ring for Max? I'm tired and want to go to bed.'

  Silently she did his bidding and, still in silence, left the room.

  She slept badly that night and the next morning had breakfast in bed, an unprecedented thing for her to do. It also brought Carl to her room for the first time, and she stared in astonishment as he wheeled himself in.

  'Is anything wrong?' she asked.

  'That's what I came to ask you. Max said you were still in bed and I thought that you were ill.'

  'It's only an attack of lazybones. I'm sorry if it alarmed you.' She lowered her eyes to her coffee, but was aware of him wheeling his chair to the window and staring into the garden.

  'You don't have a good view from here,' he said abruptly. 'You should have given me this room and taken mine.'

  'That wouldn't have been right.'

  'Why not? You're my wife.'

  Unwilling for the conversation to follow the same line it had taken last night, she said nothing.

  'I have something to tell you, Laura,' he mur­mured. 'I should have told you last night, but…'

  Laura did not hear the rest of what he said. There was a rushing sound in her ears and a blur of red in front of her eyes. So it had come at last! He was going to admit he could no longer fight his need for Rosemary. What a fool she was to have thought it could be otherwise!

  'Haven't you any comment to make?' he asked.

  'What can I say?

  'Whether you approve or not.'

  'Do you seriously expect me to approve?' she cried. 'It seems to me that what you're doing has been inevitable. The only wonder is that you've resisted it for so long.'

  'I would hardly describe a week as being long.'

  'A week?' She was puzzled.

  'Not even a complete week,' he replied. 'Six days, actually. That was when Mr Edwards had a reply from Vanberg.'

  Only then did Laura realise they were talking at cross purposes. Yet she dared not admit she had not heard a word lest Carl thought there was some­thing wrong with her. Perhaps if she phrased the next few questions carefully she might fathom out what he had said.

  'I've asked Mr Edwards to make the arrangements as soon as possible,' Carl continued. 'He's hoping Vanberg will fly over at the end of next week. If he can't, and wants to delay it, then I'll fly to Seattle.'

  'Why Seattle?'

  'Because that's where he has his clinic. He has apparently worked miracles for people with exactly the same condition as mine.'

  Laura swallowed hard. At last she was beginning to understand. Vanberg was a surgeon and going to operate on Carl. There was every possibility he would walk again. If that were the case, he would be able to marry Rosemary and keep her happy.

  'You don't seem very pleased, Laura.' The chair glided across the carpet and came to a stop by the bed. Carl wore a pale grey sweater and slacks almost the same colour as his eyes. The casual dress made him look more carefree, though this could have been due to the knowledge that he might not be tied to four wheels for much longer.

  'It sounds a dangerous operation,' she murmured.

  'Vanberg has done many of them.'

  'What happens if it isn't successful?'

  'I'm back where I started.'

  'When will you know if he's coming over?'

  'Some time today. The longer I have to wait, the more nervous I feel. I never realised I was a coward until—'

  'You aren't a coward! You're desperate to walk again and you want to find out as quickly as poss­ible if you can. That's logic, not cowardice.'

  He touched her hand, his expression tender. 'I can always rely on you to say the right thing.'

  'You make me sound like man's be
st friend,' she said wryly.

  'You're certainly mine. If I—' He broke off as Mary Roberts came in.

  'Mr Edwards' secretary just telephoned,' she said. 'Mr Vanberg will be here in eight days and he wants you to go into hospital a week before, for additional tests. That means tomorrow.'

  'I have a board meeting tomorrow,' Carl said. 'I can't put it off.' He frowned. Td better get Durban to chair it for me.' His fingers flexed, as if he was using the movement in lieu of being able to use his legs. 'What a miracle it will be if Vanberg is successful. I know I shouldn't bank on it, but—' he hesitated. 'Is it better to be pessimistic or optimistic?'

  'I would rather you were realistic,' Mary replied. 'That way you won't get upset if it doesn't work.'

  He banged the arm of his chair. 'What a lot of problems it will solve if I can stand up and push this behind me. I'd give ten years of my life if I knew I'd be able to do that!'

  'Don't give away ten years so quickly,' Laura said. 'When you're rushing from one country to another in three months' time, you'll want every one of those ten years you're so ready to give away now.'

  He gave a boyish laugh. 'I would settle for limp­ing along—let alone rushing.'

  'You'll settle for nothing except a complete cure,' Mary said crisply.

  'Heaven spare me from women who know me!' he retorted, and spun his chair to the door. 'I'll see you later, Laura,' he called, and disappeared down the corridor in the direction of the lift.

  Mary hesitated on the threshold and Laura beckoned her to come in.

  'I suppose you've known about this operation since it was in the offing?'

  'Yes.' Mary leaned against the foot of the bed. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you—'

  'Don't apologise. You're Carl's nurse and your first loyalty is to him.'

  'Speaking of loyalty,' Mark said, 'I can't under­stand how he can see the iron butterfly again. It isn't as if he doesn't know what she is.'

  'He knows, but he doesn't care,' Laura sighed.

  'I'm glad I decided to settle for a career,' Mary grunted, 'it's far less wearing on the nervous sys­tem!' She took the tray from Laura's lap. 'Try and have a sleep: you've got bags under your eyes.'

  'Thanks for telling me.'

  'That's what friends are for!'

  Laura lay back on the pillows but made no at­tempt to sleep; her mind was too busy going over all Carl had said about the operation. She was by no means sure he had told her the truth and decided to ask Mr Edwards. But even if the operation was dangerous, did she have the right to try and stop him having it? Edgily she flung off the bedclothes and went into the bathroom. She stared at her reflec­tion as she ran the bath. Mary was right, she did look pale and tired. More like a sparrow today than a robin redbreast. The thought brought tears to her eyes, and this, more than anything else, told her how tightly strung her nerves were. Living with a man and having to hide her love for him was hard enough to do without having the additional strain of Rosemary's unwelcome presence. Damn her for coming back to England!

  Steam blurred her reflection and Laura turned off the tap and slid into the bath. No matter how dangerous the operation was, Carl was going to have it, for she knew with certainty that only if he could walk again would he allow Rosemary to remain with him. If the operation failed, then he would turn to his good old stand-in—the ever-faithful Laura. Her anger rose and immediately died. How cruel she was being to Carl. If the operation failed he wouldn't want anyone to remain with him. She had only to remember the way he was pushing her on to Duncan to recognise the truth of this.

  'I'll never leave him alone,' she whispered. 'No matter how many times he tells me to go, I'll never leave him. Only if he goes to Rosemary…'

  Tears trickled down her cheeks and plopped into the water; tears for Carl and tears for herself.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  SO much seemed to have happened to Laura since she had said goodnight to Duncan that when he called her in the afternoon it was hard to believe barely twelve hours had elapsed. He apparently knew Carl was going into the hospital the next day and that Dr Vanberg was flying from Seattle to perform an operation.

  'I've to come to the house with some papers for him to sign,' he explained. 'I hope you'll let me take you out to dinner afterwards?'

  'I don't think it's wise for us to meet so often,' said Laura.

  'I'll answer that when I see you,' Duncan said, and hung up.

  But he was forestalled in this by alighting from his car at precisely the same time as Rosemary alighted from a cab and Laura, walking across the hall as the butler opened the door, saw them come in together. There was something so possessive in the way Rosemary handed her coat to José that Laura longed to reach out and shake her. Instead she gave her a cool smile and led the way into the study where Carl was looking at some plans laid out upon his desk.

  He greeted his visitors and signalled Duncan and Rosemary to help themselves to a drink. He had changed into his evening attire. Since his accident he did not wear a dinner jacket, saying he found it too constricting, and instead wore a velvet one. Tonight it was burgundy, with a silk-faced collar and cuffs. It made his hair more golden, and by con­trast, Duncan looked thin and dark. But his nar­row face was as alert as always, and Laura went to stand beside him as he poured the drinks.

  'I will go out with you,' she murmured.

  'Leaving Rosemary a clear field?' he murmured back.

  'It's obviously what Carl wants,' she replied, and during the evening ahead made a determined effort not to think of Carl and Rosemary dining alone together. But it was impossible to keep her mind completely clear and from time to time she pic­tured them on the settee and wondered if he would push Rosemary back against the cushions and make love to her. The image was so clear and painful that she felt physically ill, and in an effort to con­centrate on something other than this, she stared intently at Duncan.

  'Has anything happened to you since I saw you last night?' he asked. 'You seem different.'

  'I'm a day older.'

  'And a day wiser?'

  'Much wiser than that.'

  He gave her a quizzical look. 'Do I take it that you've given some thought to our future?'

  'In a way,' she hedged. 'But I don't want to talk about it for the moment. Carl is having this opera­tion and—'

  'I understand,' Duncan said quickly. 'I'm quite happy to leave things the way they are for the moment.'

  After dinner they went dancing. Duncan was sur­prisingly good and though only slightly taller than her, led her masterfully round the floor. But his nearness gave her no thrill and when he rested his cheek against hers and sang part of the words of a love song in her ear, it was all she could do not to pull away from him. How irritating it was to be the recipient of an unwanted love.

  It was after one o'clock before they returned to Holly Grove. The house was in darkness as he unlatched the front door and tenderly kissed her goodnight. His cheek was harder against hers than Carl's had been, though his lips were softer. She knew he was deliberately holding himself in check and once more felt ashamed at taking advantage of him.

  'When may I see you?' he asked.

  'I don't know. Carl will be in hospital from to­morrow and I'd like to be available in case he wants me.'

  'I've an idea he'll be wanting Rosemary,' Duncan said flatly. 'But I'll leave you to make up your own mind. Just call me when you want me.'

  'You're so sure Carl won't mind,' she said.

  'Naturally I am. He told me so himself. And with Rosemary here, he'll be even more pleased to have you off his hands.'

  With a squeeze of her arm he went back to his car, and despondently Laura closed the front door and walked across the hall. With her hand on the banisters she turned and went into the library. She switched on the lights and at once her eyes went to the settee. The cushions were smooth and only those on an armchair were rumpled. It looked as though Carl had remained in his wheelchair tonight and had not given Rosemary a chance to sit beside him
. Poor Carl! He obviously did not want to dis­close his feelings for the girl until he knew what the future held for him.

  She turned off the lights and went upstairs. She was on the verge of going into her bedroom when she saw that the door of the sewing room at the end of the corridor was open. It was here that Mary washed her own clothes and ironed many of the things required by Carl. It was amazing the amount of linen he used. His skin chafed easily and any wrinkle in his clothes could cause acute discomfort. For this reason he changed frequently, and though his clothes were washed in a machine, Mary insisted on doing the ironing herself. This was what she was engaged in as Laura stepped into the warm atmosphere of the little workroom.

  'Did you have a nice evening?' Mary asked.

  'Duncan is always good company.'

  'You do sound enthralled!'

  'You know how I feel about him.'

  'I know how your husband would like you to feel!'

  'So do I.'' Laura looked at her intently. 'Do you think the operation will be a success? I want you to be honest, Mary.'

  'Dr Vanberg has an excellent reputation.'

  'Is he so much better than Mr Edwards?'

  'It isn't a question of being better. Dr Vanberg has pioneered a special technique in this type of operation.'

  'Could Carl die if it went wrong?'

  'Good lord, no!' Mary's answer was so spon­taneous that Laura was instantly reassured.

  'I want him to get better,' she said fiercely, 'even though it will mean the end of my life with him.'

  'It isn't much of a life,' Mary replied. 'I think you'd be well shot of the whole affair. You're too young to waste your life pining for a man who hardly knows you exist—except as a sort of no man's land where he can hide!'

  'He's preparing to cross the border into enemy territory,' Laura said wryly.

  'Then why wait for him to tell you to go?'

  Laura shrugged. 'You'll be free too, if the opera­tion is successful. Will you go back to the hospital?'

  'I might go to Australia with you. I think I've caught your travel bug.'

  Laura tried, but failed, to be pleased at the prospect of having Mary as a companion on her travels. It would be harder to make a new life for herself if she was with someone who constantly reminded her of the old one. But to say this would be hurtful. Besides, she was not even sure she would go abroad. To run away from one's misery was not always the best way of conquering it; it might be better to stay and face it.