The Society Bride

by Fiona Hood-Stewart

  ‘Yes. Didn’t you know?’

  ‘No, I— Is she all right? Oh, what an idiot I’ve been.’

  ‘Now, calm down, my son. I think you should try and get on the first flight out.’

  ‘Of course. If I leave here immediately I can catch the British Airways flight out of Kennedy,’ he said, glancing at his watch, his mind in a frenzy. ‘Oh, God, how could this have happened?’

  ‘In the usual way, I imagine,’ his father responded dryly. ‘Just make sure that in the future you take proper care of your wife. I don’t understand all these goings-on between the two of you. It’s perfectly ridiculous.’

  ‘Yes, Father. I’ll explain when I see you. Please, just make sure she—she and the baby are all right.’

  ‘Very well. I’m on my way to the Chelsea and Westminster Hospital now. Your mother is in the ambulance with Nena. Thank goodness she confided in her, otherwise I dread to think what might have happened.’

  Ramon stood on the pavement and gazed blindly at Central Park, at the carriage passing before him with a young couple in the rear, holding hands and hugging, at the lights of the Plaza across the street, seeing nothing but her face, replaying each expression, each moment, each tender look, each instant since that dreadful misunderstanding that had caused so much grief.

  Then he took a deep breath and walked back inside the restaurant to explain to his dinner companion what was happening. Without a moment’s hesitation Connelly offered to drive him to the airport at once.

  Some time later Ramon was dropped at the airport. My goodness, how time passed slowly when you wanted to be somewhere fast, he thought. Why had he made the trip just at this time when it wasn’t absolutely essential? Why hadn’t he waited? And why had it never occurred to him, when Nena refused that glass of champagne at lunch, that there might be a reason for her refusal?

  In the first class departure lounge he quickly dialled his father’s mobile phone.

  ‘What’s happening?’ he asked anxiously. ‘Is she all right?’

  ‘We don’t know yet. She’s with the doctor now, but don’t worry—we’ll be here with her, never fear.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Ramon murmured gratefully, trying to combat the sudden wave of nausea that gripped him at the thought of Nena lying there in the hospital, perhaps losing the baby. Their baby. A baby conceived in one of those torrid moments of—

  For a moment Ramon swallowed. He’d never realised it until this very moment, but it was love he felt for Nena. A feeling different from any other he’d ever experienced for any other woman. He shook his head and let out a long sigh, stunned by what he’d just become aware of. He loved her—loved this girl whom he’d known for such a short time, who’d entered his life and taken over in a way that would have been inconceivable to him a very short while ago.

  ‘British Airways flight—’ That was his flight.

  Grabbing his briefcase, Ramon followed the other passengers and made his way to the plane.

  It could not reach London fast enough.

  The car was waiting for him at Heathrow to take him to the Chelsea and Westminster Hospital, where he found his mother and father waiting in the corridor outside Nena’s room.

  ‘She’s been sedated, poor child,’ Doña Augusta told him.

  ‘But is she all right? And the baby?’ he asked, trying to quell the overwhelming anxiety he’d been suffering all night.

  ‘I’m afraid she’s lost it,’ his mother answered sadly.

  Ramon said nothing, just shoved his hands in his pockets and turned and stared doggedly out of the window. It was his fault all this had occurred. His fault that she’d lived through this horrendous experience alone and unhappy when he should have been next to her. And worse was that it was all because of that dreadful day with Luisa. Had that not occurred, none of this would have happened. It was probably all the anxiety and nervous stress she’d been subjected to that had caused the miscarriage in the first place.

  He turned. ‘Can I go in and see her?’ he asked his mother.

  ‘I think you’d better wait to see the doctor first. He should be here in a few minutes,’ his mother demurred.

  ‘Yes,’ Don Pedro seconded. ‘Wait to speak with the doctor, Ramon. And see to it in the future that you take proper care of your wife,’ he added sternly. ‘You are not a bachelor any longer, my son. You have duties. Make sure you see to them properly.’

  Ramon said nothing, just nodded. His father was right to chastise him. There was no excuse for his absence, only Nena’s rejection of him to hang his hat on. But he should have insisted, not allowed her to get the better of him with her arguments. He should have taken charge, as he always did with every other damn aspect of his life, and simply told her how things were going to be—insisted instead of deferring, being gentlemanly and giving way to her wishes. Damn her wishes. He was her husband, after all, and it was his duty and his right to make sure she was properly taken care of.

  Several minutes later the doctor put in an appearance.

  ‘Ah! Mr Villalba.’

  ‘Is she all right?’ Ramon enquired, features tense.

  ‘Yes. She’ll be fine. She’s young and in excellent health. But of course a miscarriage is never an easy thing for a woman to go through, no matter how early in the pregnancy it occurs.’ He lowered his voice and the two men walked along the corridor. ‘She’s very upset emotionally. It will require a lot of patience and care on your part to help her through this. Of course the best solution is another baby.’

  ‘Right away?’ Ramon looked at him steadily.

  ‘No. Not immediately. She will need a few weeks to get over this, both physically and emotionally.’

  Ramon nodded. ‘I blame myself for not being here.’

  ‘Don’t. These things happen. We don’t know why they do, but they do. And it has in no way affected her ability to bear children. Still, once a woman knows she’s expecting a baby, has absorbed the fact and has lived even for a few days with the knowledge of another being growing inside her, the sense of loss can be tremendous.’

  ‘I understand.’ Ramon nodded. ‘May I go in and see her now?’

  ‘Yes. I don’t know if she’ll be awake yet, but you may stay with her. Don’t get into long discussions about all this until she’s better, though. There is always a sense of guilt accompanying these things.’

  ‘Thank you, Doctor.’ Ramon mustered a smile and shook his hand. ‘I’m grateful for all you’ve done for my wife.’

  ‘I’m afraid I didn’t do anything except take care of the problem. The rest will be up to you.’ He squeezed Ramon’s shoulder, then, after a goodbye and a handshake to Don Pedro and Doña Augusta, he left down the corridor as Ramon prepared to enter Nena’s room.

  ‘We’ll be leaving now, querido. Your father is very tired and must get some rest. If the doctor lets Nena out later today bring her back to Eaton Square. Enough of this being on her own.’

  ‘Of course I will. Go home, Papá, and get some sleep,’ Ramon said, touching his father’s arm. ‘And thank you both for all you’ve done. I—’ There was a catch in his voice.

  ‘It’s nothing. We think of her as a daughter,’ Doña Augusta said gently. ‘See that you mend this breach between you, Ramon, and don’t,’ she begged earnestly, ‘let pride and stupidity get in your way, my son.’ She reached up and kissed his tense bronzed cheek. ‘You will see. God willing, all will be well.’

  Ramon quietly opened the door and stared across the bleak hospital room at Nena, lying motionless, like a doll in the centre of the bed. Her hands lay on the white coverlet, and as Ramon approached the bed he reached for one of them, touching it tenderly, a wave of emotion gripping him as he thought of all she’d been through. How scared she must have been, waking up to such a horrible experience in the middle of the night alone, obliged to telephone his parents. And what might have happened if she hadn’t phoned? What if she’d been too embarrassed and had stayed there bleeding until morning? What then?

  He shudder
ed and perched on the side of the bed, gazing down at her lovely pale face, her hair lying tidily to each side of it, as though she hadn’t stirred. He drew his hand away from hers, afraid of disturbing her, and a rush of tenderness overwhelmed him. She looked like a little girl, lying there so quietly. Yet she was a woman.

  His woman.

  And in that instant Ramon determined that he would never let her go.

  Nena woke to a painful sensation in her lower tummy. Eyes still closed, she winced. Then little by little the events of the previous night shaped themselves in her sedated brain and slowly she opened her eyes.

  ‘Nena, mia.’

  She heard Ramon’s voice, blinked, and stared up at him, her lips parting in an ‘oh’. He had come, after all. He was here, had not abandoned her and stayed in New York as she’d feared, but was by her side.

  Ramon slipped his hand over hers, then leaned down and softly grazed her lips with his.

  ‘You’re here,’ she said blurrily.

  ‘Yes, I’m here. And I have no intention of going anywhere.’

  Nena registered his words silently, and let him take her hand in his, feeling the soothing movement of his fingers as he stroked her palm.

  ‘I’m so sorry about the baby,’ she said finally, battling a sudden new wave of emotion. ‘I shouldn’t have—’

  ‘Nena, none of this is your fault.’

  ‘But it is. If I’d—’

  ‘No. I will not permit you to assume any responsibility for this. If anyone is to blame it is I,’ he answered bitterly. ‘I must have been blind not to recognise that something was different that day in the restaurant. Perhaps you were even going to tell me and it just didn’t register.’

  ‘Well, it doesn’t matter any more,’ she said in a small voice. ‘It’s too late.’

  ‘Shush. You mustn’t get upset. There is time enough to talk of all this once you are better and well again. Now, I am going to see if the doctor will allow you to leave the hospital later today.’

  She nodded and closed her eyes, not really caring what happened any more, feeling a great wave of unhappiness for the baby she would never hold in her arms, that tiny piece of life that she’d already pictured alive and kicking, with Ramon’s dark eyes and her nose. He—because she was certain it had been a boy—would have looked just like his father…

  Silent tears seeped through her tightly closed lids and coursed down her cheeks.

  Ramon watched her, helpless. All he could do was wipe the tears away gently with his thumb. There was little else he could do but double his resolve that never again would he allow her to be on her own to suffer.

  Later that afternoon Nena was allowed to leave. She felt tender and fragile, and grateful for Ramon’s assistance as together they walked out of the hospital and entered the car. When it pulled up at Eaton Square she looked out of the car window, surprised.

  ‘But I thought I was going home,’ she said.

  ‘This is home, Nena.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘No buts,’ he said firmly, clasping her hand, and the set of his jaw left her in little doubt of his determination to keep her by him. ‘You are staying here with me and that is an end to it.’

  ‘I—’ Nena was about to protest, then, too tired to argue, she gave in.

  Minutes later she was being taken upstairs and helped into bed by Doña Augusta and one of the maids.

  ‘You need lots of rest, Nena dear. I remember when this happened to me,’ Doña Augusta said, sitting on the side of the bed. ‘It takes a lot out of you. Emotionally and physically.’

  ‘I hope I’m not being a nuisance,’ Nena murmured, the force of habit taking over.

  ‘Rubbish. You are a part of this family now. It is only natural that we should care for you.’ She leaned down and dropped a kiss on Nena’s forehead. ‘Now, try and get some sleep, querida, and don’t worry—there will be many more babies in the future.’

  Nena swallowed the knot in her throat and tried to hold back the tears that were never far from the surface. She nodded.

  ‘No more worrying,’ Doña Augusta insisted, patting the coverlet. ‘Everything will take care of itself.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘HOW about a trip to Agapos?’ Ramon enquired, three weeks later. Nena still seemed very down, lethargic and uninterested in life. Ramon was seriously worried about her. He’d tried to talk about what had happened, but she didn’t seem to want to. He’d insisted she see a psychologist, but Nena hadn’t derived much benefit from the visits.

  ‘Agapos?’ she said, remembering the beautiful island where they’d first made love, where maybe their baby had been conceived.

  ‘Yes. It would do you good to have a break—get away from here and be in the sun. It’s lovely in early autumn over there. We would be all by ourselves.’

  He reached across and took her hand. Lately she neither accepted or rejected him. It was as though she was living in another world, a place of her own where she didn’t allow any intrusions. But Ramon knew—sensed—that either he got through to her emotionally very soon or he might lose her for ever.

  ‘I think we should go down there,’ he insisted. ‘I shall have the plane ready to take us the day after tomorrow.’

  Nena shrugged. She really didn’t care what she did any longer. The loss of the baby seemed so tremendous, so incredibly painful. And, although Ramon had been attentive and caring, she just couldn’t overcome that little inkling of mistrust that lingered, surfacing every time she was about to let down her guard and let him in.

  Would it ever leave her? she wondered. Or would it persist, looming over their marriage, making it impossible for them ever to really come together, for her to trust him fully? After all, what would happen when all this had passed? Say she agreed to live with him and take up a normal life—would she ever be free of the fear of walking into another restaurant and seeing him with another woman? Maybe now he’d be more careful, but she’d learn it from some other source, or simply know instinctively that he was making love to someone else.

  Nena sighed. They might as well go to Agapos as be here in London, where it rained all the time and she felt so bleak. Her girlfriends had called, but she had no desire to see them. Or anyone else for that matter. It was as though she’d shored herself up in her own little cocoon, and was loath to leave it in case another nasty surprise caught her off guard.

  Ramon, though she didn’t know it, had taken heed of the doctor’s words and was sleeping in the room next to hers. But as the days went by he was determined that soon they would be sleeping together once again.

  Two days later the helicopter was once more hovering over the island, different now in the early autumn light, a soft glow etching the white houses, making them stand out. The blue waters of the Aegean shimmered, the bright coloured fishing boats shining brightly in the lingering sun.

  Soon they were up at the house. Nena changed, donning a comfortable white kaftan, then walked barefoot over the terrace and stared out at the sea, at the late-afternoon sun dipping on the horizon, at more fishing boats returning to port with the day’s catch.

  It all seemed so peaceful, so distant from London and the mental turmoil of the past weeks. Ramon had been busy the last few days, had seemed to spend a lot of time at the office. She hadn’t questioned him about it. Or maybe he was fed up and was beginning another affair with some other woman, she reflected sadly.

  Sitting on the balustrade, Nena told herself she must stop being paranoid. It was one thing to realise that the possibility existed, another to assume, with no real reason, that his absence was caused by some new attractive female he’d come across. Still, however hard she tried she was unable to banish that image of Luisa, glancing up at him over her shoulder, of her intimate smile.

  Perhaps all the attention Ramon was devoting to her now was just part of his sense of duty, of the obligation he’d undertaken, the promise he’d made to her grandfather. But she didn’t want to be considered part of a contractual obliga
tion. She wanted to be wanted for her, for who she was.

  And that was an unlikely scenario.

  At no time had Ramon ever said more than the murmured words spoken in the heat of passion. And those, she realised sadly, meant very little. They were part of a vocabulary he had probably used frequently with every woman he’d bedded.

  ‘Nena?’ Ramon stepped out onto the terrace and came to join her on the balustrade. He wore a pair of Bermuda shorts and a T-shirt.

  Nena looked at him, surprised. She’d never seen him quite so casual before. And she liked it. She swallowed despite herself at the sight of his strong muscles, still tanned from their previous stay. The overpowering masculine aura still surrounded him, but she’d been less conscious of it over the past few weeks, too tied up with her emotions. Now, as he sat opposite her, his dark hair stirring in the early-evening breeze, his strong arms uncovered, she experienced a charge of desire like nothing she’d felt since before the miscarriage.

  She pulled herself up with a jolt.

  It was fundamental to remember all the reasons for which a long-term relationship with this man really couldn’t work out, all the doubt and the knowledge that he might betray her at any given time. She would have to be firm, she realised with an inner sigh, make a final decision about what she was going to do with her life. It wasn’t fair to either of them to linger on in this vacuum of uncertainty.

  But it was hard to contemplate life without him at her side. She’d become so used to his presence over the past few weeks—to him popping by in the morning before he left for the office, kissing her tenderly goodbye, ringing her in the late morning to suggest a spontaneous lunch.

  It was in the early evening that doubts took hold, when he rang in to say he’d be late because of a meeting or the occasional ‘business dinner’. It was then that she asked herself if he was telling her the truth or merely covering tactfully while all the time being ensconced in the arms of some woman or other.