A Paper Marriage

by Jessica Steele

  Perhaps because she knew that there was every chance that when they said goodbye she would not see him again until she stood beside him in church, Lydie found she had no appetite for lunch. Jonah did not appear to eat a great deal either, she observed, but she rather thought that was because his mind was more on the business he had to return to London for than the fact that he would not see her again for almost two whole weeks.

  He came into the house with her when they reached Beamhurst Court and said hello to her parents. And, while her mother went into raptures to her about just the `right' hat she had bought on Saturday, Lydie saw that Jonah and her father had wandered over to the other side of the room and seemed to be having a very satisfactory conversation. She saw them shake hands-and her heart sank-Jonah must be planning to leave at any moment.

  They ambled back to her and her mother, and although Lydie hadn't a clue what they had been talking about, she saw they seemed the best of friends. Which meant all in all everyone was getting on famously. But Jonah was on the point of leaving, and she didn't want him to go. She might not see him again for two long weeks, and already her heart was aching.

  `Jonah has business he has to attend to,' she announced-rather starkly, it seemed to her.

  `You won't stay to dinner?' Hilary Pearson invited, and Lydie felt cheered that her mother was at last showing Jonah the warmer side of her nature.

  Jonah charmingly declined, said goodbye to her mother, shook hands with her father again, and, when Lydie was ready to run up to her room and stay there until she saw him again, `Coming to see me out, Lydie?' he asked.

  They left her parents in the drawing room, and as they walked out to his car all Lydie could think was, Don't go, don't go. To counter the feeling, the fear that those words might actually spill out, `Have a good trip,' she smilingly bade him as they halted at his car.

  Jonah turned and looked down into her wide green eyes. `Remember what I said. Any problems, anything at all, ring Eileen Edwards and she'll get a message to me.'

  `I'll remember,' Lydie replied, and, just to show that she wasn't the smallest bit bothered that she might not see him again until she married him, `Don't do anything I wouldn't do.'

  `Which is guaranteed to curtail my-er-life.' Lydie laughed. The missing word there was 'sexual', as in `sexual life'. `You're even more beautiful when your face lights up in laughter,' Jonah told her.

  `For that you may kiss me goodbye,' she allowed loftily.

  Jonah reached for her, held her in his arms and looked long into her eyes. `Did you think I wasn't going to?' he asked, but as his head came down, he did not require an answer. Their lips met, and with her heart thundering that familiar beat Lydie had the hardest work in the world not to throw her arms around him. She wanted to beg him to take her with him-but theirs was not a love match, and he would think her soft in the head.

  He said not a word when he let her go. Just looked at her for a long silent moment or two. Then he was getting into his car and driving away.

  Lydie walked back into the house, tears in her eyes. She loved him so much-and there were a whole thirteen days to be got through until she saw him again.

  Lydie hoped each day to see or hear from Jonah, but heard not a word for over a week. It was a busy week, and she was glad it was so because her time with Jonah at Yourk House was starting to feel like light years away. Had they really kissed and caressed the way they had? Was she doing the right thing in marrying him the way she was? What alternative did she have? She recalled her father, his face happy and smiling when talking to a relative over the phone. She did not, she knew then, have any alternative. Her father was back to being the man he had been-and did not seem to have a care in the world.

  The next week slowly dragged into being, and, after Saturday, her wedding day coming ever nearer, it was on Tuesday that Lydie packed up some of her clothes ready to take to Yourk House. She packed another couple of cases with clothes she thought she might need on honeymoon. They were spending Saturday night at Yourk House prior to jetting off to their honeymoon island on Sunday.

  On Wednesday, with four days to go before her wedding, Lydie started to get nervous and began to experience grave doubts. When she received a phone call from Jonah, Lydie felt she would have been quite happy if he had called to cancel the whole thing.

  `Where are you?' she asked tautly.

  `Sweden.'

  `When are you coming back?'

  `You sound uptight, Lydie?'

  'I'm sorry. I know ours isn't the normal head over heels thing-' well, not on his side anyhow `-but I think I'm just about in the worst stages of bridal nerves. We'll be all right, won't we, Jonah?' she asked him anxiously.

  `Oh, my word, you are suffering.'

  `I wish you were here,' she replied, totally without thinking. And, as she died a thousand deaths to have said such a thing, she quickly added, `I've loads and loads of luggage to take over to Yourk House. You know,' she hurried on, `my on-holiday clothes, and-um-stuff I'll need when I get back.'

  `I should have thought of that,' Jonah replied. `Mrs Allen will be there tomorrow if you've time to go over. I'll give her a call and tell her to give you a spare key she always keeps several spares.'

  'I-um...' Grief, she was feeling tongue-tied with the man-and she was marrying him in three days' time!

  'We'll be all right, Lydie, I promise you,' Jonah came in to reassure her when she got stuck for words.

  She felt wretched. 'I'll-um-see you on Saturday, then,' she said, and there seemed little else to say. She said a quick, `Goodbye,' and put down the phone. Oh, heavens! She was going to be his wife in three days' time-she only hoped her nerves held out until then.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  BY SATURDAY, while still in a state of nerves, Lydie knew that above all else she wanted to marry Jonah. She had no idea how they would fare together, but she would do her best to make her marriage to him work.

  She was awake early; her mother was already up and doing. To Lydie's tremendous surprise, when if it had dawned on her at all that she would have breakfast in bed, she'd have thought their housekeeper would be delegated to bring it to her, Hilary Pearson herself came in carrying a breakfast tray.

  Coping with her surprise, Lydie began, `You shouldn't...'

  `Yes, I should,' her mother contradicted. `This is your special day, and my mother brought me my breakfast in bed on the day I married your father.'

  `W-' Lydie broke off. `Thank you,' she accepted gratefully.

  `How do you feel?'

  `I'm not sure yet,' Lydie confessed, adding truthfully, `But inclined to think I should pinch myself to check I'm awake and it's all real.'

  `Which is perfectly natural.' Her mother smiled, and to Lydie's astonishment went on to say, `I'm sorry if you've had reason to think from time to time that I've been in training for The Most Miserable Old Trout Of The Year, but this has been a most difficult time for your father and me.'

  `It must have been truly awful at times,' Lydie sympathised.

  'Our-difficulties-came close to wrecking our marriage,' her mother admitted, but smiled cheerfully when she went on, `But, thanks to Jonah, we've come through.'

  `You're referring to that cheque he gave me?"

  'That was our darkest moment. I'm extremely grateful to him, Lydie.' She smiled again. `Even if I haven't always managed to show it. He has no idea of the headaches he caused when he gave me just six weeks to get everything ready for today.'

  `You've worked very hard,' Lydie stated. `And I do thank you.'

  `I don't need your thanks; it's what I'm here for.' Hilary Pearson beamed. `Though I will say some of it has been a nightmare. Now, eat your breakfast and don't hurry to come downstairs the house is packed with your cousins and aunts. Make the most of your peace and quiet,' she advised.

  Her mother left her to go and check out the breakfast room, ready to organise anyone who, in her opinion, needed organising. She really had worked hard, Lydie reflected, and knew that, while perhaps her moth
er's sometimes acid tongue might occasionally grate on her, she loved her mother and her hard-working mother loved her.

  With nothing but the best good enough, Lydie had protested fiercely about the cost of her wedding. Where was the money coming from? she had wanted to know. The last time she'd made her objections felt she had been told she was being a perfect pain and sharply requested not to interfere again. From then on Lydie had tried not to wince at the next `must have' her mother had thought of.

  Her marriage to Jonah was taking place at two that afternoon, and, while Lydie tried to keep to her room, she might just as well had joined all her relatives downstairs, for she had a constant stream of visitors.

  Donna, the only attendant who had not stayed overnight, arrived at noon. Nick and their children were with her, but Donna was the only one of them her mother allowed upstairs.

  `Your dress is gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous!' Donna exclaimed, on seeing it hanging on the outside of the wardrobe. It was a dress of empire design, the bust embroidered with silks and pearls, with folds of the soft jersey silk material falling straight from beneath the bust to hem. It had short sleeves and a modest rounded neckline that would reveal just the merest hint of cleavage. With it Lydie would wear the pearls her parents had given her for her twenty-first birthday, and the whole ensemble would be completed with a full-length veil kept in place by the family diamond and pearl tiara borrowed from her father's sister. The tiara was passed down the female line and would one day be passed down to Lydie's cousin Emilia.

  Lydie had bathed when she had got up, but at twelve-thirty she decided to shower prior to getting ready. If it was supposed to be a tranquil time for her-it was not. Apart from the fact that one or other of her cousins had arrived yesterday without some essential to complete their toilet, and charged in to borrow a brush, a comb, a hairdryer, Lydie had started to be swamped by her nerves.

  She couldn't wait to see Jonah, but heartily wished this day were over. Nerves were well and truly getting to her. She had long since overcome that dreadful shyness of adolescence but, with all these people about, it seemed to have returned with a vengeance. She wished she had never agreed to a large wedding-though, recalling the way her mother had gone into action, did not think she'd had very much choice. Lydie was glad when everyone went to get dressed.

  She seated herself before her dressing table mirror. Solemn green eyes stared back at her. In a little over an hour she would become Mrs Jonah Marriott-she felt all trembly inside at the thought.

  At one-fifteen her four attendants came to her room. `How do we look?' the beautiful Kitty asked, giving a little twirl in her empire line dress of midnight-blue.

  `Beautiful,' Lydie answered. `You all do.'

  `Now you, Lydie,' said Donna, and as chief attendant and matron of honour she firmly pushed the others out. Lydie, her night-dark hair looped into a crown on the top of her head, and with the small amount of make-up she wore in place, was ready to slip on her dress. All that remained was to place her veil and tiara around the crown of her hair.

  Donna seemed stuck for words when, having helped Lydie, she stood back to look at her. `Will I do?' Lydie asked.

  `Oh, Lydie, you look sensational!' Donna exclaimed, and looked quite weepy.

  As did Hilary Pearson when she came into the room a minute later-the mail which had been forgotten about earlier forgotten again when, seeing her daughter in her bridal finery, she dropped the post down on Lydie's dressing table, and, `Oh, darling,' she cried, `what I picture you look!'

  `So do you,' Lydie said lightly-that or have the whole three of them in tears. But her mother, in heels higher than normal for her and a wonderful frothy hat, did look superb.

  Her mother stepped towards her, looking as though she might give her a hug, but, as if fearing to spoil or crease her dress, stepped back again. `Right,' she said, adopting a bracing tone, `it's time the bridesmaids were on their way to church,' and, ushering Donna out in front of her, she went to get them organised.

  Lydie looked at herself in the full-length mirror when they had gone. Would Jonah think her a sensational picture? Remembering the stunning blonde, Freya, Lydie rather thought he was used to sensational.

  But she did not want to dwell on thought of his past 'friends'; her stomach was churning enough without that. Lydie found a distraction in the mail her mother had brought in. There was an array of wedding cards, which she would open later, but there was also one letter. It was from a firm of solicitors.

  Lydie checked that it was addressed to her and decided she had time to open it-and did. And almost collapsed in shock. The solicitors were executors for Alice Mary Gough, and Lydie, it appeared, was her aunt's sole beneficiary. By her will, Miss Gough had left her the house known as No. 2 Oak Tree Road, in the village of Penleigh Corbett. `We have obtained the keys from the local authority, to whom they were inadvertently delivered, and shall be pleased if you will call and sign for them.'

  Lydie read the letter through twice and, her eyes misting over, she had just slid the letter back into its envelope and placed it back on her dressing table when her parents came into her room.

  Her parents spoke both together. Her father to say, `Oh, my baby girl, how lovely you are!'

  Her mother said, 'I'm going now,' and, catching sight of her daughter's misty eyes, `Oh, please don't cry, Lydie, you'll start me off.' She then swallowed noisily and turned abruptly to her husband. `I shall expect you to leave in exactly twelve minutes' time, Wilmot.'

  `Yes, dear,' he answered sweetly.

  `And don't laugh at me!' she commanded.

  `No, dear,' he said, and, relieving the tension, they all three laughed.

  Left alone with her father, though, Lydie just had to question, `I thought Aunt Alice rented her house from the council?'

  The perfect father, he didn't turn a hair, but took her question as the sort of question brides normally ask when they are trying to concentrate on something else to take their mind off the nerves they are enduring. `She did,' he replied. `For years and years. In fact she'd been a tenant for so long, paid rent for so long, that when under some government scheme-she had the chance to buy it from the council she could have bought it for some ridiculously low price. She never had any money, as you know, but I did offer to lend her all she needed. She wouldn't take it, of course.'

  `You didn't lend her the money?"

  'It was only a trifling sum, but she was too proud to take it. Said, quite snootily, that she didn't care to be beholden to your mother. She was a stubborn old bat-lost a property that must be worth something in the region of a hundred

  and fifty thousand at today's prices.' He glanced at his watch. 'We'll have to go in a few minutes. Now, don't worry,' he went on cheerfully, `I wouldn't let you go to Jonah if I wasn't fully convinced he'll do right by you.'

  They went down the staircase with Lydie starting to realise that her great-aunt must have managed to scrape together the money to buy her house-and, typically Great-Aunt Alice, had kept her business to herself. Lydie did not want her house, she would much rather that her great-aunt would be in church to see her married that day.

  Mrs Ross, who was keeping a sharp eye on the caterers, came to see her before she left her home for the last time as a single woman. But the housekeeper's eyes filled with tears when she saw her, and all she was able to say, before she handed Lydie her bouquet from the hall table, was a choked, `I know you'll be very happy.'

  Lydie thanked her. The bouquet of pink and white lisianthus was gorgeous, and worth the battle. She left her home to the sound of church bells, but on the short ride to the church Lydie, beset by nerves, could only think of Jonah waiting for her. She would make him a good wife, she would, she vowed-and then, out of nowhere, she was assaulted by the most torturous realisation that she should not be marrying him!

  And it wasn't just nerves. Her reason for marrying him, apart from her deep love for him that he knew nothing about, was because he had given her a cheque for fifty-five thousand pounds t
hat she could not pay back. For her father, who had been hurting like the blazes that there was no way he could pay an outsider that money, she was marrying Jonah in order that he should be an insider.

  Thoughts were rioting around in her head at a tangent. Jonah hated to be cheated. He was marrying her-yes, because he had decided it was time for him to marry-but, on thinking about it then, in her het-up state, she was sure a lot of that decision stemmed from having witnessed for himself the near broken man her father had been! A man then nothing like the buoyant man her father was today. Jonah had the highest respect for her father-but would Jonah have any respect for her when he knew that, thanks to her legacy from her great-aunt, he need not marry at all? His intended bride could pay him back. She could sell the property and return that fifty-five thousand pounds to him. Lydie gasped in shock as the realisation hit her that to marry Jonah would be-to cheat him!