by Maggie Ford
Edwin, however, had come visiting every other evening – something of a huge turn-around after what she had viewed as his earlier neglect of her. Now, she happily put all that behind her, even more so when he arrived the following Saturday morning, fulfilling his promise of taking her to choose the engagement ring.
“Come on, darling,” he said as she let him in, his tone as excited as she felt. “Hurry up and get your hat and coat. Snuggle up nice and warm. It’s freezing out there.”
In fact it was blowing half a gale, not a day to be out in but, tripping off on his arm to his car, her head bent against a wind that instantly caused her eyes to water, Helen’s whole body glowed warm.
They bought the ring in Hatton Garden, the place to find the best gems. Letts was doing very nicely after Edwin’s initial struggles. He was seeing a profit and his commitments to the bank were decreasing by the month. “You and I will start to live very comfortably from now on,” he’d told her in triumph, his mind racing on. “In time we’ll be able to buy ourselves a lovely house out of London and hang on to my flat for when we’re in town.”
His words had brought a tingle of joy though sometimes it didn’t seem real and she still had to pinch herself that this had all happened to her. Other times she felt a low feeling of panic in the pit of her stomach that it was all too good to be true, that something could happen to wreck it all. Her earlier fears about falling pregnant had been unfounded. Even so, to let herself be carried away by too much excitement could be tempting fate.
Perhaps that was why she felt no conceit or self-satisfaction in being chosen by someone like Edwin, who showed the promise of becoming as wealthy and well-known as his uncle and his father had been. She felt none now as in a small exclusive jewellers she slipped one of the rings from a black velvet tray of flashing diamonds on to her finger. It had taken her eye the moment she saw it, being slightly smaller and neater than the rest, which had struck her as far too ostentatious for a girl such as her. The solitaire, however, was still so huge as to not only take away her breath but almost frighten her.
“Is that the one you like?” asked Edwin, seeing her eyes shine as she extended her hand for a better view, twisting it this way and that for the shop lighting on this dull December afternoon to catch the brilliant facets and fling the sparkle back into both their faces.
The proprietor beamed. “It sits well on madam’s hand, sir. Not too large for such delicate fingers.”
Helen felt herself balk instantly. “Darling, it’s much too expensive. I don’t want you to spend so much. Can’t we find something a little less—” She broke off, not daring to utter the word “expensive”.
She felt the proprietor’s eyes turn questioningly towards her and her innards curled. He’d already noted her as not the type of customer he was used to seeing here. She had sensed it immediately they had entered, in fact had felt it in quite a few shops they had visited. This man’s glance only confirmed it more even though his beaming smile had faltered not once.
Edwin came instantly to the rescue without knowing it. “If you want it, then have it,” he said simply.
He could have added, “Darling, I can afford it, and it’s for a very special person who I love deeply.” But she read all that in his eyes and he had no need to enlarge on what he’d said. She also knew that he wasn’t about to belittle her before the shop owner with an excess of persuasion to make her even more ill at ease than she already was, and her love for him swelled in the knowledge that he could be so sensitive to her feelings.
She took a deep breath and lifted her head, more in defiance of the proprietor’s air of superiority than any decisiveness.
“Darling, it’s lovely.”
“And you’re happy with it?”
Again she took a deep breath. “Yes,” she managed, relieved to have it over and done with.
They celebrated the event with dinner, not at Edwin’s own restaurant but at Claridge’s where, in a small but light-hearted ceremony, he took the ring from its box, asking again if she would marry him and, with her saying yes, she joining in with the lightly contrived formality, he slipped it gently and reverently on to her engagement finger, then leaned forward in full view of everyone and slowly kissed her. Later they would seal their engagement more positively.
* * *
Several evenings later, Helen opened the door after an urgent double ring on the bell to find Hugh standing there. She looked back at him, somewhat bemused. He was the last person she had expected to see and in fact had forgotten all about him.
There was a huge grin on his lean and handsome face. “Come to apologise for not calling on you sooner. Thing is, I’ve been up in Stratford-on-Avon, rehearsing.”
“Yes, Edwin told me,” she answered, unsure whether to ask him in now.
After all, he would be her cousin-in-law come next year – Edwin was talking of an autumn wedding. On the other hand, the slanted grin and the roguish gleam in his eyes said that he probably wasn’t yet aware of her and Edwin’s engagement and was anticipating his chances with her.
“He did?” A touch of chagrin had stolen into his voice. Obviously he was thinking his cousin had stolen a march on him and intended to rectify it. “When was this?”
“Last week.” When we got engaged, she wanted to say, but found herself needing to withhold that news, not wanting to cause him upset too suddenly. The anticipation in his expression told her to explain in a more gentle way, perhaps a bit later.
She noticed that he was holding an elaborate bouquet of yellow and bronze chrysanthemums and a small box wrapped in Christmas paper. Seeing her gaze travel down towards them, he thrust the bouquet at her.
“Peace offering,” he announced, then, as she automatically accepted it, taken off guard by the force with which it had been offered, he held out the small box to her. “A little something wishing you a happy Christmas.”
“Hugh, you shouldn’t!” was all she could gasp, everything telling her that she must not accept the present whatever it was. Yet it looked churlish to refuse now that she was to become part of the family.
He still stood there smiling. “Well, open it, Helen,” he demanded as she reluctantly took the package from him.
Now she must behave sociably. She stepped back. “Won’t you come in, Hugh? This is very nice of you to call and give me a Christmas present.”
“Is that all?” he asked, following her into the lounge. “That it’s very nice of me – so formal. Don’t I even get a kiss?”
She turned to him, forcing a smile and, leaning forward, pecked his cheek. His eyes widened as he accepted it and his expectant grin froze a little, but he recovered himself immediately. “Don’t you want to see what I’ve bought you?” he persisted and, to placate him, she rapidly ripped off the gold and green paper to expose a small, square, blue felt box.
With her heart in her mouth she guessed at its contents before even opening it. And yes, it was a ring, a band of diamonds and rubies. Hastily, she grasped the initiative.
“Oh, it’s a dress ring! How lovely. But I can’t accept anything so expensive.” She was gushing foolishly. “I haven’t anything for you yet.”
There was no need to look up at him to see his expression as he said, “If you want it as a dress ring of course it’s not too much to give someone like you. I was hoping you’d like it.”
He was staring at her left hand, for the first time noticing the ring on the third finger. Why he hadn’t seen it before was a surprise, it sitting there sparkling like a flashlight. But perhaps he’d been too occupied with his own hopes.
“So when did that happen?” His tone had become hard and, glancing down at her hand, Helen had difficulty in looking back at him.
“Last Saturday,” she managed.
“Bit sudden, wasn’t it?” His eyes had narrowed and his tone was one of unhealthy enquiry. Helen balked at what she felt he was implying. All she wanted now was to see him, his flowers and his ring go.
“Yes, it was a bit s
udden,” she snapped. “Not that it’s any business of yours, Hugh, but Edwin quite took me by surprise too.” That would settle any unsavoury questions lurking in his brain. “He asked me to marry him a fortnight ago and I accepted. We’ll probably get married next autumn.” Further proof for any nasty minds that all was above board.
Hugh was smiling that one-sided smile of his, loaded with derision for all that it added to his good looks.
“You can’t want to marry him. All he ever thinks about is that damned restaurant of his. Yes, he might be all attention at this moment but it won’t last. He’ll be back to standing you up because he’s wrapped up in work and you’ll find yourself left waiting in the wings. Is that the kind of life you want, Helen? A lively, great-looking girl like you, there’s so much this world could give you.”
“I’ve never noticed,” she broke in, angry.
“Because you’ve never gone looking.”
“I don’t want to go looking! I’m content to be what I am.”
“How do you know what you are unless you look? For instance, have you ever been abroad to see other sights, other lives? Geoffrey, my uncle, knew how to enjoy himself and that’s what I intend to do: travel, go abroad, do things. And I could take you with me, show you all the wonders you’ve never dreamed existed outside of books.”
She refused to be baited. “I expect Edwin will be just as capable of showing me all those wonders, as you put it.”
He remained quite unruffled. “Don’t bet your bottom dollar on it, darling. My bet is that it’ll take a blast of dynamite to prise him away from that restaurant now he has his clutches on it. I think you may be in for a rude awakening, my dear.”
Helen could feel herself getting rattled. He was as smooth as ever, and as charming. There was something about Hugh that stirred a woman. It wasn’t just that he was so good-looking; there was something in his manner – that despite her annoyance with him fascinated her, and no doubt plenty of other women too – something of the prowling wolf that was never quite hidden by that flashing smile, that roguish gleam in his eyes, that debonair bearing.
“I’m afraid,” he was saying, “your Edwin takes after my father, a stick-in-the-mud. Now I take after his father, my Uncle Geoffrey. Nothing stood in his way. Odd how often one resembles one’s father’s brother rather than one’s father.” Obviously Hugh modelled himself on Geoffrey Lett, admired him. Helen had heard tales from her father on the man’s spendthrift ways, how, in borrowing for his pleasures, his gambling, he’d nearly bankrupted the business. She had heard a little of how the sober Henry had taken the brunt of his brother’s gambling debts on his own shoulders and had had to settle them time and time again.
Looking at Hugh it was as though she were seeing the man she had heard tales about. But she also realised how much Edwin was like his Uncle Henry, and out of the two it would be the stable, dependable one she would always prefer. Hugh might excite her, though she tried not to admit it at this moment, but for all his charm and handsome looks, it was Edwin she wanted. She hated the way Hugh stirred up something inside her, forcing her to fight the attraction he had over her.
Putting the feeling from her, she stood before him – she hadn’t even asked him to sit down – and lifted her hazel eyes to look squarely into his blue ones, hoping hers did not betray what he was doing to her.
“Hugh, it was good of you to come calling and to give me flowers. But I think the ring is much too much, and as I suspect it wasn’t exactly meant to be a Christmas present, without wanting to hurt your feelings I think you should take it back.”
It had turned out quite a speech, and reading in his expression that he thought so too, she had a fight to quell the sense of embarrassment it caused her. She pushed past him, going to the open lounge door. “I am truly sorry, Hugh, and I do appreciate how you feel, but I think you’d best go now.” She was trying to put it as nicely as she could, but her heart was beating heavily and she knew that were he to turn awkward, she wouldn’t be able to stand up to him. With that thought she realised it was herself she was frightened of, not him.
“Please, Hugh,” she begged. “Please go.”
For a second he hesitated, almost as though he’d read her mind, making her squirm even more. Then he moved past her, managing to brush her body as he did so. He seemed well aware of the tingle the touch created inside her as he smiled down at her. Then he had moved on past her to the hall and the front door, which he himself opened.
“You know, Helen, you’re making a huge mistake. I know your mind is made up, but I think you’ll come to regret marrying Edwin. When you do, I expect I’ll still be around to pick up the pieces.”
It was only after he had gone that she realised she still held the ring he had given her.
* * *
Leaning over the balcony’s gleaming brass balustrade, Edwin gazed down with satisfaction at the throng below. Friday, Christmas Eve, and the place was buzzing. Outside was chilly but in here all was bright, cosy, lively. Christmas decorations had been strung across the ceiling and walls. A large Christmas tree with flickering fairy lights and small gaily coloured parcels had been placed at the top of the marble stairs by the entrance. A smaller one hung with glass baubles was at the foot of the wide, blue-carpeted steps down to the dining room. Holly and ivy had been wound around the two lines of pillars each side of the large dining area, so that the whole, along with the chatter from those eating, presented a happy and festive air.
Behind him was the bar and small circular dance floor on the mezzanine level, where more voices babbled above the number, “Fly Me To The Moon”, being played by the four-piece band hired for the evening. Edwin took it all in and felt utterly content. Since taking over here, he’d done a great job of making this place work.
A polite cough behind him made him turn. William Goodridge had come up in his quiet manner, unnoticed.
Edwin smiled. “What is it, Will?”
He was finding it rather awkward to address a man who was to be his father-in-law. Debating what to do about it, he was coming to the conclusion that the only sensible thing to do would be to invite him on to the board of directors; it would be so much easier speaking to him as an equal rather than an employee. But first he must gain the consent of the rest of the family. How easy would that be? None of them as yet had any inkling of his and Helen’s engagement. He’d tell his Aunt Victoria when the family gathered here on Boxing Day. Victoria had expressed a desire for them all to get together then for a family lunch, closing Letts itself to the public and opening up in the evening.
“Mainly to have a little chat about how business is coming along and discuss anything we might need to,” she had said. “Being that this is the restaurant’s first year under more or less new management, for all Edwin here is our own family.”
Taking a cue from the somewhat dominating Victoria who, as the surviving sister of Henry Lett, felt herself in charge of affairs if not of the business itself – a woman very much like her own mother in that respect - everyone had been in wholehearted agreement. Anyway, a sumptuous free dinner was itself an attraction, Edwin thought with an uncharitable grin.
Only Hugh had not replied to the invitation. Edwin hadn’t set eyes on him for ages, not since he’d mentioned rehearsals in Stratford-upon-Avon. Hugh’s silence struck him as irritating though not surprising. His cousin ploughed his own furrow, usually only showing up if in need of something. Staying away was most likely a sign of doing OK. Hugh being what he was, Edwin suspected he’d not have much objection to Goodridge being voted on to the board. It all depended on what Aunt Victoria had to say about it. Whatever her opinion, Edwin strongly felt that Goodridge could hardly remain as his employee and at the same time become his father-in-law.
“Everything seems to be going very well this evening, Mr Edwin.”
“Yes, it does,” Edwin replied to William’s comment. Now was the time to broach the subject that was in his mind.
“While you’re here, William,” he beg
an, “I’ve something I want to say. I think you should drop the ‘Mr’ and just call me Edwin.”
Goodridge’s expression, usually so impassive, was a picture to behold. “Not during business hours, Mr Edwin. We could never have that.”
It was almost as if he were being reprimanded. Edwin looked at him at length, held the brown eyes with a steady gaze. The happy sounds of the restaurant in full swing receded.
“Listen. When you become my father-in-law, it’s going to be very awkward to call you William or Goodridge. In fact, even now I feel uncomfortable considering the way things stand with us. Before long I will have to address you, rightly, as Father.”
“But not here, sir.”
Edwin winced. “Please, don’t call me sir. That’s even worse. I should be calling you sir.”
“You can’t do that, Mr Edwin.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
Not a muscle of William’s features moved. “That I leave your employ. I would prefer to continue working here. This place is my life. It’s all I have ever known in my working life. I came here as a young man from the war and I am not yet of retiring age, but if it becomes awkward for you, Mr Edwin, I had best leave.”
“And do what?” challenged Edwin.
There was still no expression. “I have no idea, sir.”
Consternation had taken hold. This man was his right hand; without him Edwin knew he’d never have got this place back to almost what it had once been. There was still some way to go. Without Goodridge, Edwin could see himself as a man clinging to a waterlogged raft in the middle of the ocean. He needed this man, needed his smooth, efficient running of things, holding everything together when it got a bit hectic, his calming advice when he himself was at his wits’ end, his very presence reassuring. He couldn’t let him go. He capitulated. What was in a name, after all?
