Hostile engagement

by Jessica Steele

  Conscious that this interview had not only been taken completely out of her hands, but had gone so far away from the point at issue that it looked a long road back, Lucy almost spat the words at him. 'Because I had occasion to box his ears the last time he took me out,' she snapped, and was instantly aghast that this man she barely knew had extracted that piece of information from her that normally nothing would have had her revealing. 'Look,' she went on, furious with herself now as much as him, 'can we get back to the reason for my call ...'

  `Ah yes. You are laying claim, I believe, to my—er fiancée's engagement ring.'

  `It's my ring,' Lucy reiterated. 'To be more precise, since you seem to want to know everything, it was left to me by my mother. It has great value to me, and I want it back.'

  * * *

  CHAPTER TWO

  `So,' Jud Hemming said consideringly. 'You say the ring is yours. Which I wonder has the greater value to you—the fact that your mother left it to you, or the actual monetary value of the ring itself?'

  Lucy felt sick that anyone could feel the need to ask such a question, and raised hurt eyes to his hard stare. She saw his jaw harden briefly before he grated at her :

  `You think that an unfair question? Believe me, it isn't. There are plenty of women around who don't give a damn about sentiment—women whose whole slant on life is jaundiced by a materialistic outlook.'

  `And you think I'm one of them?'

  `I'm hardly in a position to judge, am I? Seeing that before today I had never set eyes on you.'

  Lucy didn't swallow that. Jud Hemming was a type of man she had never come across before, but even so she had a shrewd idea he could look, sum up, and file away, all in the space of five seconds.

  `Well, I'm not,' she said clearly. 'You seem to have been particularly unfortunate in your—er—relationships with my sex—but we each get from a relationship what we put into it, you know.' She was rather proud of her little homily. That should put him in his place, she thought, a feeling of triumph washing over her that for the first time since she had entered this room she felt on top—her triumph was short-lived.

  `Is that why you felt it necessary to box this Donald chap's ears?' he asked smoothly.

  `I ...' He had her there and he knew it. She hadn't given Donald that sort of encouragement, but he had made a

  grab for her just the same.

  `So if I'm to believe you,' Jud Hemming went on when it became apparent his remark had floored her for the moment, 'you're asking for the return of property you say is yours, not because of its financial worth, but because of the sentimental attachment you have to it?'

  Lucy nodded. `I'm not even sure of its true value in pounds and pence,' she stated, and when he raised a disbelieving eyebrow, she went on, Rupert-my brother-was going to get a jeweller's estimate of its value so that we could insure it. He was taking it to be polished and cleaned when he lost it.' She didn't like confessing that bit, but knew before this man would let her have her ring back he would want to know how she had lost it in the first place. `Rupert thought it might be insured for about eight hundred pounds—only we weren't sure.'

  Jud Hemming looked at her steadily for several seconds, then announced shatteringly, 'I paid three thousand for it.'

  `Three thousand-pounds? She wished she had never stood up. She would give anything now to have something solid supporting her. 'The ring is worth three thousand pounds?' She couldn't take it in, and she had an idea her astonishment had got through to the man-who had paid out that amount without apparently turning a hair, and that he believed she really hadn't known how much it was worth.

  `You had no idea, had you?' he seemed to be saying from far off. Then with an irritable movement, as though believing her when he didn't want to irritated him, he said harshly, 'Do sit down, Miss Carey-you'll make the place look untidy if you give in to your obvious desire to pass out.'

  Lucy felt his hand on her arm, nothing gentle in his touch, then she was seated on the settee she had leapt up from earlier and he was handing her a drink that fired the back of her throat after the first sip. Then as her brain

  started to function again, she began to realise the impossibility of her task. If he had paid three thousand for the ring he wasn't likely to hand it over without kicking up a fuss about it. Refusing to be daunted, she placed the remains of her drink on the small table to the side of her. She was going to see this through to the bitter end if it killed her.

  `The last thing I want to do Mr Hemming,' she said slowly, choosing her words carefully, 'is to upset Miss Stanfield, but I can only repeat what I said at the very beginning—I want my mother's ring back.'

  Jud Hemming looked into the glass of Scotch he was now holding. She hadn't noticed him pouring it, so reasoned he must have decided he wanted a drink when he had poured her the brandy. Then he was looking directly at her, his cold eyes showing not a glimmer of emotion.

  `And how do you propose to pay me the three thousand pounds I parted with?'

  Lucy held his look for as long as she was able, but she was the first to look away as it dawned on her that somehow or other this man knew what pride had ordered that no one in Priors Channing should know until it could possibly be avoided; he knew that she and Rupert were stony broke.

  ...' She refused to be defeated, and lifted her eyes again bravely. 'I shouldn't think it will come to that-surely when you tell the police who you bought it from, they'll be able to trace it back to whoever found and subsequently sold it in the first place.' As she followed that thought on though, Lucy realised that whoever had received Jud Hemming's money would in all likelihood by now have spent it, and there would be little chance of his money being returned to him.

  If he was having the same thoughts, it didn't show in his face. But what he said precluded that the culprit would ever be brought to book. `Ah, but you see, Miss Carey, I have no intention of telling the police or anyone else the

  name of the person who sold me the ring.

  But ... but that's ridiculous ! You'd be letting a criminal get away scot free-it ...' She stopped as she could see she wasn't getting through to him. He had made up his mind not to reveal the name of his-what was the word she was searching for-fence? No, that made Jud Hemming a criminal too. 'It's aiding and abetting,' she accused, bringing out a term she had heard used on television.

  `Not at all—I bought that trinket in good faith.' Trinket? Three thousand pounds? Lucy swallowed an angry comment as he continued. 'I have a bill of sale, and at the time of the purchase I had every confidence that the person who sold it to me had every right to sell it.'

  And you refuse to say who that person was?' He didn't answer. She had known she was wasting her time asking the question anyway—she could see from the set of his mouth that he was determined to keep that piece of information to himself. 'So in order to reclaim my property, I shall need to tell the police that you have it?'

  `That could prove a costly business,' he said silkily. 'To gain possession by those means will involve long and ex-- pensive court proceedings-I will not be forced into giving up anything that is mine.'

  Lucy's heart sank. She had had a premonition this wouldn't be an easy interview. How right she was to have been nervous about coming face to face with this unbending man ! There had been no need for him to underline how expensive it would prove to take him to court-she had read of cases where costs had gone into hundreds of thousands. Her eyes flicked round the room, and discreet though every piece of furniture in the room was, she could tell without putting a price tag on any of it that it had cost a fortune to furnish this room alone, and knew without question that Jud Hemming could afford to take any case she brought against him all the way. She would get cold feet at spending as much as a hundred pounds while know-

  ing he would have one of the cleverest lawyers available working for him.

  `So the only way I'm going to get my ring back is by paying you the three thousand you paid for it?' she asked, feeling weary, fed up and frustrating
ly angry all at the same time.

  The ring isn't for re-sale,' she was told bluntly. Then after a long moment when her spirits hit zero, he added, `There is a way in which I will return it to you—though I'm not certain the sentimental value of your inheritance is sufficient for you to contemplate agreeing with what I have to suggest.'

  `I'll do anything you ask,' she said proudly, having no, idea what he had in mind, though if he wanted her to whitewash the stuccoed outside walls of the Hall she would do it, for all it would probably take her ten years, from the sheer size of it. She looked steadily back at him, intrigued to know what she could possibly do for him that warranted him handing over an item of jewellery he had paid three thousand pounds for. The very air around them seemed to be taut, and she sat silently, holding her breath as she waited. Then shakingly, shatteringly, Jud Hemming's eyes locked with hers, refusing to let her look away, and he announced with no sign of emotion in his voice at all :

  `I will return the ring to you provided you wear it on your engagement finger.'

  `Engagement finger ...?' she queried, her incomprehension showing in every contour of her face. She just couldn't understand what he was asking. He couldn't be saying he intended to remove the ring from Carol Stanfield's hand and that she should ...

  `To be more precise, Miss Carey, I'm saying I want you to be engaged to me.'

  `You're joking !' It was out before she could stop it. The tightening of his lips told her he wasn't joking, though she hadn't needed that small movement to tell her he rarely, if

  ever, joked in his life. He was a particularly dour man, she thought. But why? I ... I mean, you're already engaged to Carol Stanfield, aren't you? What's she going to say about this? She'll be dreadfully hurt.' As yet it wasn't sinking in that he was serious, even though she knew she couldn't doubt it.

  `As a matter of fact I am not engaged to Carol,' he said smoothly.

  ... but she was wearing your ring?'

  `I didn't give it to her.'

  `You mean she just-took it?'

  He didn't answer, and Lucy's imagination took off. Light was just beginning to penetrate. She saw it all now. He had tired of his affair with Carol—Lucy didn't at that point speculate why then had he invited Carol to stay at his home —while from Carol's point of view she wanted something more permanent from him than.to be just another mistress. Carol must have seen the ring-probably in his bedroom, Lucy didn't wonder-and had laid claim to it. With the unshakeable belief he had that all women were nothing more than gold-diggers that wouldn't have endeared Carol to him, and in order to extricate himself from the situation, Jud Hemming wanted to use Lucy as a means of finishing his relationship with the poor girl.

  `What about Carol's feelings?' Lucy blurted out. Surely Carol would be deeply hurt if she agreed to his suggestion to become his fiancée-she wanted her ring back, certainly, but she had to live with herself, didn't she? Could she be hard enough to take what was rightfully hers and in so doing cause that friendly girl so much unhappiness?

  `Carol's feelings need be no concern of yours,' Jud Hemming said coolly, then with that hard note returning to his voice, 'Either you wear that ring as my fiancée, or you don't get it back-take it or leave it.' With that he turned his back on her and went over to the drinks cabinet and replenished his glass.

  Lucy wasn't sure which feeling was uppermost in her mind at that moment. Anger that he could so callously get rid of the girl who at one time must have meant something to him rose within her. Carol couldn't have just invited herself to the Hall, she reasoned. Why, his mother was here as well, wasn't she? She had been at the village hall this morning anyway, and if Carol Stanfield had been just a passing affair she couldn't see a man like him introducing her to his mother. Anger vied with sympathy for the poor girl, who in her opinion didn't look in the least like a gold-digger, then her anger gave way to the thought that if Jud Hemming wanted to be rid of her poor Carol was going to be hurt anyway, and there was nothing Lucy Carey could do about that. That thought salved her conscience somewhat-it was her ring, after all. He had gone to stand the other side of the long room-he had given her an ultimatum; 'Take it or leave it', he had said, and had made no attempt to persuade her to do what he wanted. Coldly, clinically, he was putting her sentimental attachment to the ring to the test. It was entirely up to her whether she took his offer or not—one thing was for sure, he wasn't going to lose any sleep whatever she decided.

  `H ... how long will this engagement have to last?' she asked his back. There was no question of romantic involvement-she shuddered at the thought; it was expedient at the moment for him to have a fiancée other than Carol Stanfield, and as soon as he had her out of his hair Lucy knew she would be released-.

  He turned and strolled towards her, coming to stand in front of her, and with a deliberate movement placed his glass down on the table beside the one she had used, then, straightening, looked hard at her.

  `Three months should be long enough.'

  `That long?' Carol must be very firmly entrenched for it to take that long for her to realise her affair with him was over. When he didn't answer her—Lucy had a feeling he

  never explained himself—she felt an overwhelming anger against him and his soured outlook on life. 'Women are mere playthings to you, aren't they?' she snapped furiously. `Just something to be picked up, enjoyed for the moment, then tossed aside.' She received a long enigmatic look for her trouble, a look that said, 'What else are they good for?' Without him having to speak she felt herself answered, and flared up at him again. 'You needn't think if I agree to this ridiculous arrangement that I shall be one of your toys.' She wished it unsaid as soon as she had said it—there had not been the smallest hint that he had anything of that sort in mind, and she went red as she waited for his daunting comment she knew was to come. She wasn't disappointed.

  `Allow me to tell you, Miss Carey,' he said loftily, 'that I'm more choosey than the Donalds of this world.'

  While wanting to slap his cynical, superior face, Lucy realised she had deserved that crack. Not that she didn't think she was every bit as good as he was, she knew she was, but what else had she expected with her leading remark other than the stinging answer she had received?

  With as much dignity as she could muster she rose to her feet. 'Do I have your word that if I agree to wear my mother's ring on my engagement finger for three months, at the end of that time the ring reverts to me?'

  `You have my word on it.' -

  Bending to pick up her bag intimating that she was now ready to leave, Lucy straightened and looked directly into those cold grey-green eyes. 'In that case Mr Hemming, I accept your terms.' As yet she had no idea what pretending to be engaged to a man like him involved, but it couldn't be anything very terrible since by his own admission, and he had made it painfully clear, he was not at all interested in the romantic side of such a liaison.

  He walked to the door with her, and by unspoken mutual consent the ring wasn't mentioned again-the last thing Lucy wanted was that he should go and take it from Carol

  and straightaway present her with it. With his hand on the

  door handle he paused. His face had registered very' little

  emotion since she had entered, and it was no different now.

  For the record, my friends call me Jud. If it hurts too much, try-Judson.'

  There were quite a few names she would like to have called him, and she had an idea he knew it too, but without another word being spoken, he opened the door and escorted her to the front door. She was relieved Carol Stanfield was nowhere in sight; she knew she would never have been able to look the girl in the eye.

  It wasn't until the next morning that the unreality of what had taken place hit Lucy. Conscience pricked away at her as she wondered if Carol had been acquainted yet with the news that she was no longer number one in Judson Hemming's life. She must have been mad to agree to what he had suggested, Lucy thought, and she wished 'Rupert would get up so she could talk it over with him. It wa
sn't too late to go back on her word—she didn't have the ring in her possession and until she did no contract had been made. Perhaps Rupert would be able to think of some other way of getting the ring back. She had always admired the logic of his thinking—well, that was until he had taken up with Archie Proctor and his set.

  Rupert hadn't returned when she had arrived home, and suspecting he would not be in any fit state to talk sensibly when he did eventually come home, Lucy had gone to bed just after midnight.

  She filled in her time until she heard her brother stirring, in tidying up the sitting room. They could no longer afford domestic help and with a house this size, not to mention Rupert's untidy ways, it was a constant battle to try and keep it the way it had been kept in her mother's day when domestic help had been unlimited. She picked up a pair of Rupert's shoes from the hearth that hadn't been there when she went to bed last night while thinking that

  since they had parted with quite a few items of furniture in this room it wouldn't take long to whip round with the vacuum cleaner.

  A noise overhead told her Rupert had joined the land of the living, and placing the shoes back in the hearth to be taken upstairs later, she went into the kitchen to make her brother the coffee she knew he would want more than anything when he came down.

  Rupert was freshly shaven when he entered the kitchen, only his red-rimmed eyes showing he had spent much of the night in painting the town. Lucy thought to let him drink his coffee first before she told him how she had spent some of the time since she had last seen him. Without asking she knew any offer of breakfast would be firmly rejected:

  `What time is it?' he asked lazily, his head seeming too heavy for him to lift it in the direction of the kitchen clock.