by Rosie Harris
If she was aware that he was comparing her with a girl he hardly knew, but who filled his thoughts night and day, she would be a lot less tolerant, he thought ruefully.
Perturbed, he considered his relationship with Melany. They had grown up together and there had always been a close affinity between the two of them, even to the point of enjoying the same type of caustic humour. They shared a great many similar interests, and were both fond of horses and riding. Ever since he could remember he had preferred Melany’s company to that of her brother, Geoffrey.
He was aware that his parents hoped they would marry. He knew she would make an excellent wife and, as his father was always pointing out in none too subtle a way, she would bring with her a dowry of land that would make Walford Grange into one of the largest Estates in south-west England. In his heart he knew that such a liaison was impossible; his affection for Melany was the same as he would have felt for a sister.
He’d teased fellow officers about ‘falling in love’ and being unable to think about anything except the girl who filled their thoughts. It had never been like that with him and Melany. He was always pleased to see her, enjoyed being with her and regarded her as an exceptionally close friend. She was someone he could talk to on any subject under the sun and who understood his moods, but thoughts of her certainly didn’t fill his every waking moment.
Now that he had met Lucy, he knew that his feelings for Melany were certainly not love. Lucy had turned his whole world upside-down and he was unable to put her out of his mind for a single moment. He was avidly curious about her background as well as everything she did. He was constantly watching out for her around the Barracks on the off-chance she might be invited along to the Sergeants’ Mess by either Gary Collins or her brother-in-law, Hugh Edwards.
When Gary Collins formally suggested that he might like to look in at the Sergeants’ Ball, Russell accepted with an inward sense of Fate once again taking a hand.
‘Of course, Sergeant, if I’m Duty Officer,’ he conceded.
‘It’s going to be very well attended, sir,’ Gary told him, his eyes glinting. ‘Hope you can make it.’
‘Does that mean that delectable little blonde is going to be there?’ Russell asked nonchalantly, raising an eyebrow.
‘You mean Sergeant Edwards’ sister-in-law, sir?’ Gary Collins asked and added with a wide grin, ‘We won’t be able to keep her away if she knows you are coming, sir.’
Russell walked away quickly, his heart thumping. What the hell had made him do such a stupid thing? Being on friendly terms with one’s Platoon Sergeant was one thing but openly showing interest in his family and friends was damned foolhardy.
Although he was careful not to enter into any further discussion about the matter with Gary Collins he was sure there was an amused gleam in the Sergeant’s blue eyes when he repeated the invitation on the morning of the Ball. It worried Russell and throughout the rest of the day he found himself debating the rights and wrongs of his decision.
As he shaved and dressed ready to go on duty that evening, Russell felt as though he was preparing for his first date. He had never felt so excited in his life even though he kept telling himself that he was probably only imagining Lucy Woodley’s fascinating and attractive personality.
She might appear to be a diminutive blonde beauty with petal-soft skin, delicate features and forget-me-not blue eyes but what if she had a rasping cockney accent, or a strident laugh?
Remembering the gentle pressure of her tiny hand when Gary had introduced her, the sweetly pouting lips and the shy smile he was convinced that she really was everything he had imagined. He looked at his watch, he would soon know.
The Ball was already under way as he entered the Mess. He was acutely aware that he had never felt so keyed up. His nerves were more tense than when he had sat exams at University or when he had been dressing for his passing-out parade at Sandhurst.
The ballroom was packed. There was a sprinkling of officers, but most of the men present were Sergeants, all resplendent in sparkling white frilled shirts, contrasting against the red of their jackets and the gleaming buttons, buckles and insignia. Many were campaign veterans, proudly displaying their medals.
For a moment Russell was filled with dismay as he stared round the crowded room at the sea of faces. He would never find Lucy Woodley in such a throng. There were so many glamorous women, all so magnificently gowned and groomed, that pin-pointing just one was going to be an almost impossible task.
He walked over to the bar and ordered a drink. Just as he was lifting the glass to his lips someone touched his elbow and there was no mistaking the cockney voice.
‘Nice to see you here, sir.’
As Russell turned he found himself looking into Gary Collins’ twinkling blue eyes.
‘Good evening, Sergeant. Would you like a drink?’
‘No thank you, sir. I just wanted to let you know that a certain young lady is here tonight. I’m just going to ask her to dance. If you should decide to cut-in while I’m on the floor with her, I would quite understand.’
‘Really, Sergeant?’ Russell tried to keep his tone indifferent but wasn’t sure he had managed it. He could hardly believe his luck that Lucy was there, in the same room. He turned away quickly, leaning with both elbows on the bar counter so that Gary Collins could not see the expression of joy that he knew must be on his face.
He downed the rest of his drink in a gulp, hoping it would steady his nerves, then looked round, trying to locate Gary Collins.
The moment he caught sight of him with Lucy his heart began to pound. Visually, at any rate, she was just as he remembered. Her long blonde hair flowed over her shoulders like a glittering shawl, framing her face and giving her delicate features an ethereal look.
He had never seen anyone quite so beautiful. He wanted to gather her in his arms, protect her, shield her from the rest of the world. He understood now why sheiks kept their womenfolk hidden from other men’s eyes. He would like to do that with Lucy. Carry her off to a high tower somewhere and surround the place with fierce dogs so that no one could enter.
‘My brain needs servicing,’ he muttered and he felt a sense of soaring anticipation as he saw Gary Collins escort her out onto the dance floor.
‘Evening, sir,’ Gary Collins said formally, greeting him as though it was the first time they had met that evening.
Russell’s heart hammered against his rib-cage as he nodded and tried to formulate the right words of greeting. He had eyes only for Lucy. She looked entrancing in a low-necked black dress, the bodice trimmed with shimmering coloured sequins in the shape of a flower.
‘I think you have met Sergeant Edwards’ sister-in-law once before, sir. Lucy, this is Lieutenant Campbell, I’m sure you remember him. Would you like to dance, sir?’
‘Thank you.’ Russell accepted the invitation with alacrity, aware Lucy’s forget-me-not blue gaze was fixed on him wide-eyed, her pouting lips parted in a shy smile, as he took Gary’s place.
As they moved into the circling dancers he was once more aware of how petite she was. Her golden head barely reached his shoulder, his arm completely encompassed her waist. Although she was small, she was shapely. He could feel the firm round mounds of her breasts pressing against him as they swayed in unison to the music.
When he looked down, past the golden crown of her head, he caught sight of the tantalising cleavage revealed by the low-cut neck of her dress and his pulse raced. As he held her a shade tighter, the material of her dress felt as soft and slippery beneath his hand as if he was holding her naked body and the intoxicating fragrance of her perfume excited his senses.
The music stopped and he knew he ought to take her back to her table, and let her rejoin her family but parting from her was out of the question. He was afraid that if he let her out of his sight for a second she might disappear and he would never see her again.
Normally he was level-headed and cautious, but she had bewitched him utterly. Common sense told hi
m that to become involved with a Sergeant’s sister-in-law was not only contrary to Guards’ rules but would create all kinds of difficulties. He could imagine his own family’s reaction. His father would be outraged by the breach of military protocol. His mother, too, would be dismayed by his choice when she learned that Lucy was not ‘county’ and even Mabel Sharp would think it her place to scold. He sometimes thought she still regarded him as a small boy.
Yet, undaunted by these adverse prospects, at the end of the evening Russell’s mind was made up.
‘You really don’t have to see me home,’ Lucy told him wide-eyed. ‘I am staying with my sister and her husband, I can go with them.’
‘I think I should … I want to meet your mother and you said she is there looking after your sister’s children.’
‘You do … why?’ she looked up at him wide-eyed and mystified.
‘Can’t you really guess why?’ he breathed as he bent and gently kissed her on the lips.
As she shook her head, he felt a tinge of apprehension. He had never felt for anyone the way he did about Lucy. It seemed madness, even to him, that he should find himself in the grip of such illogical sensations. He hardly knew Lucy and yet he had this tremendous inner conviction that they were destined for each other. He felt an overwhelming tenderness towards her and a fierce desire to protect her as well as a burning need for her physically.
‘I want to ask her if she will let me marry you, Lucy,’ he told her softly. ‘You do want to, don’t you?’
Her wide-eyed silence unnerved him. The startled innocence on her face touched his heart, and for a moment he wondered if he was rushing things too much. He didn’t want to frighten her into refusal by declaring his love too soon but the uncertainty was unbearable.
He kissed her again, fiercely, possessively, holding her face trapped between his two hands. When he finally released her mouth, her breathless whisper, ‘Yes, I do want to marry you, Russell,’ was joy to his ears.
Filled with confidence, he escorted her back to where the rest of her party were sitting and told them the news. Even their stunned silence failed to disconcert him.
‘I think perhaps you should be the one to tell Mum, Ruth,’ Lucy whispered cautiously.
‘Not tonight!’ Ruth exclaimed aghast. ‘She’ll be in bed. Asleep, probably. Can’t it wait?’
‘I would like to settle things immediately,’ Russell said firmly.
Ruth looked enquiringly at her husband, a worried frown knitting her brow.
‘Very well, sir,’ Hugh Edwards said coldly, his face impassive. ‘We will leave now, so if you could give us ten minutes or so, and then bring Lucy home, we will do our best to try and explain the situation to Mrs Woodley.’
Chapter 21
Russell and Lucy were married with almost unseemly haste, in Kate’s opinion. However, remembering the long delay she had experienced, she said nothing. Even now it was still agony to recall the frustration she had endured all those years ago.
She was still stunned by the idea of Russell marrying. Although he was almost twenty-five, he seemed so young, so very unworldly, that she wondered if he really knew what he was doing. He had lived away from home since he was ten yet in many ways he had led a very sheltered life. He had experienced so few of life’s harsh realities. He had never had to stand on his own feet, or compete for a livelihood. Since childhood, his every wish had been satisfied. Bicycle, motor-bike, car, sports equipment, holidays; he had only to show an interest in something and it was his to keep. Robert had always been eager to gratify his slightest demand.
His pocket-money had been liberally increased at regular intervals. Even now, his army pay was supplemented by a more than generous allowance.
‘It belongs to him, it comes out of the Estate,’ Robert had pointed out when she had protested. ‘He needs it, his salary will barely cover his Messing bills. I know!’
Strangely enough, or possibly because of the very fact that he had never been short of money, Russell was not extravagant. He took it for granted, of course, that there was always a horse in the stables for him to ride, and dogs to accompany him, walking or shooting. His taste in clothes was expensive but not over indulgent so that there was always a healthy balance in his bank account.
‘We will make all arrangements for your wedding and hold the reception here,’ Robert declared the moment he had recovered from the shock that Russell was marrying a complete stranger and not Melany Buscombe as he had hoped. ‘That means there is no problem about the number of people you invite, but I’m afraid you may have to limit it to “family only” at the church. Unless, of course, I am able to arrange loud-speakers and relay the service to the village hall. If that is possible, then we could accommodate the overflow in there.’ He produced a notebook and began writing down the points as he spoke.
‘Hold it, we are planning on being married at the Guards’ Chapel in Wellington Barracks,’ Russell told him firmly. ‘It is what Lucy wants.’
‘That poses a few problems,’ Robert frowned, stroking his moustache thoughtfully. ‘It will be a long way to drive home after the reception, my boy! Most people will be over the limit, remember. Much better to hold it here … where they are known, if you get my meaning.’
‘The Guards’ Chapel sounds wonderful. Why don’t we hire a coach to take our guests up to London and bring them back afterwards,’ Kate suggested.
‘Splendid idea! We must make a guest list as soon as possible. Important to have the numbers right so that we book a suitable size vehicle,’ Robert enthused.
‘Now don’t give it another thought, Russell.’ He tapped his notebook. ‘I will organise everything. Understand? Just let me have a guest list from the bride’s family and then leave everything to me.’
‘I think Lucy’s family want a quiet wedding. Mrs Woodley is a widow …’
‘Don’t worry about it, my boy,’ Robert boomed. ‘Tell her I will pick up the tab. It won’t cost her a penny-piece. All she needs to do is buy herself a new hat! Send Lucy along to Harrods for her wedding dress and charge it to our account …’
‘I don’t think that will be necessary!’ Russell protested. ‘Lucy did intend having a white wedding … just not too many guests.’
‘I will be funding the reception, tell her, so she can invite as many people as she likes.’ He laughed jovially, slapping Russell on the shoulder. ‘I’ll organise that side of things completely, just leave everything to me.’
‘Let your father get on with it, he’s enjoying every moment,’ Kate told Russell when, just before he returned to London, he protested about his father’s intervention in his plans.
‘I know, but how are Lucy’s family going to take it?’
‘I am sure they will understand. Mrs Woodley will probably be quite relieved to discover she won’t have to pay out for the reception.’
‘I just hope she doesn’t mind,’ Russell frowned. ‘Maybe I should leave it to Lucy to tell her, she can probably handle it better than I can.’
Robert threw himself into organising Russell’s wedding with a fervour and verve that left Kate bewildered. Absolutely everything was done on the grandest scale possible. Two large coaches were hired to transport the many friends they had invited from Somerset to Wellington Barracks. A London florist was instructed to bedeck the Guards’ Chapel. There was to be a full choir, a guard of honour, and the Guards’ Band as well as an organist. A battery of professional photographers was hired to record, for posterity, every moment of the spectacular service, including cine-cameras positioned high up in the gallery.
As the wedding day approached, Kate felt vaguely apprehensive, afraid that Lucy’s family would feel overwhelmed by so much opulence. When Russell arranged for her to meet Mrs Woodley for luncheon, Kate was struck by the sadness in the other woman’s eyes as well as the resignation in her voice as they discussed the forthcoming wedding. Kate had expected her to be elated that her younger daughter was marrying into a wealthy family but she seemed quite unimpres
sed. Her genuine concern as to whether Russell and Lucy were right for each other and her wish that they would postpone their wedding until they knew each other better, struck an echoing chord in Kate’s own mind.
But then, neither Lucy nor her mother had been anything like she had expected. Helen Woodley was a tall, slim woman in her mid-fifties, her dark hair liberally streaked with grey, her face, a network of fine lines, especially around her expressive grey eyes. Quiet and reserved she looked tired, as if she had found life an immense burden. They were about the same age, Kate guessed, but compared to Helen Woodley’s dispirited manner she felt positively spritely. Lucy’s mother had the air of someone who had given up trying to make the most of herself. The style of her navy dress and jacket was dated and looked as if it had been worn on a good many occasions and her navy shoes and handbag were neat but nondescript.
Kate decided she quite liked Helen Woodley. She had probably once been very attractive, Kate thought, studying her profile and she wondered what life had done to her to make her look so utterly dejected and weary. It seemed unbelievable that Lucy, so diminutive, and bubbly, should be her daughter, and for some inexplicable reason Kate felt perturbed that Russell should be so enamoured of the girl. She was extremely pretty, of course, but Kate suspected that behind her Dresden-doll looks there was a sharp shrewd mind and that she would be able to twist Russell around her little finger.
Over lunch, Kate’s concern seemed justified when she learned there was a considerable age gap between Lucy and Mrs Woodley’s other two children. Ruth had been fourteen when Lucy was born and Mark twelve, and they had both spoiled Lucy and so she was used to getting her own way.
Helen Woodley’s husband, Kate was shocked to learn, had been killed on a training exercise just weeks before he was due to retire. Russell had told her that he had been a Sergeant in the Guards, but she had no idea until now that Mrs Woodley had been a widow since before Lucy had been born.
