A Convenient Wedding

CHAPTER ELEVEN

SHE told herself that it was good to be back in New York, where there were people who wanted her. Benedict’s gorgeous new premises on Fifth Avenue were almost ready to open for business, and he was about to launch his collection. She began spending her time there, enjoying the satisfaction of seeing the project come to fruition, just as she’d always hoped.

But as his professional dreams were being realised Benedict was still deeply unhappy, and at last Meryl decided it was time for decisive action. One evening she slipped into the darkened building and past the security guard, who recognised her but raised his eyebrows at the young woman with her. Meryl put her finger over her lips and passed on, accompanied by the other woman.

Upstairs she found Benedict still working, tearing his hair and looking exhausted.

‘Hi, honey!’ he said in a frazzled voice. ‘I was just leaving for a stiff drink.’

‘I’ve got something much better for you than a stiff drink,’ Meryl told him. ‘Here.’ She pushed her companion forward.

Benedict froze at the sight of her and his lips shaped one word soundlessly. ‘Amanda?’

Amanda didn’t speak, just stood looking at her husband with her heart in her eyes.

‘Get on with it, the pair of you,’ Meryl said in kindly exasperation. ‘And don’t speak to me again until you’ve made up.’

On her way out she paused at the door just long enough to enjoy the sight of Amanda and Benedict in each other’s arms. Smiling, she went downstairs and took a cab to her apartment, which suddenly seemed emptier than ever before.

The following evening her friends, ecstatic over their reunion, invited her to the home they were sharing again, and toasted her joyfully.

‘We must have a party to celebrate,’ Benedict declared. ‘We’ll have it in the new place, so we can use it as a rehearsal for the big party when we open.’

‘My romantic lover!’ Amanda said, eyeing him cynically.

Meryl laughed. ‘He’s like a kid where parties are concerned.’

The lovers squabbled amiably for a while, then they laughed and fell into each other’s arms. Meryl made an excuse to leave. Their happiness was charming but it emphasised that she was alone here.

As she relaxed on her own sofa later that night she reflected that that was how married people ought to be, sometimes bickering but always loving, and knowing that ultimately they couldn’t bear to be apart.

She wondered what Jarvis was doing this minute. Was he pining for her as Benedict had pined for Amanda? At one time she would have said not, but now she remembered the way he’d kissed her, and a certain note in his voice when he’d said, ‘If you want to know more you’ll have to come back to me.’

Oh, yes, he was missing her all right. Perhaps almost as much as she was missing him!

Once, in another life, she’d promised herself that she would make this man want her. It would serve him right for being so dismissive. Wanting him hadn’t been part of the plan. But she’d been an adolescent in those days-all of three months ago. Now wanting him was her entire life. Wanting, loving, missing, yearning. He’d turned her into another person, an adult, determined to take on her man in the challenge that ended neither in victory or defeat, but in joy.

If only she could go right back to him now! But she was packing up her entire life, and every detail took time. So she forced herself to work thoroughly, not wanting to have to return later.

For the party Benedict designed Meryl a figure-hugging garment in scarlet, made of some silky, clinging material.

‘It’s a bit low in the front,’ she protested. ‘And I won’t be able to wear anything under it. It would show every line.’

‘That’s the idea,’ he assured her. ‘Eroticism with dignity.’

The gorgeous garment made her feel intensely sensual. The woman who wore this dress was trying to tempt a man to remove it. And when she was home again with the awkward, prickly individual who’d claimed a heart no other man had even threatened, she would give him a private showing.

On the big night she worked hard on her appearance, and knew she could rival any model. It was the kind of party that had once filled her life. The lights glittered, the food was excellent, the wine was the best. She arrived to find the place already packed. Benedict and Amanda appeared at her elbow.

‘Bless you darling!’ Amanda said, throwing her arms about Meryl. ‘We owe it all to you. Oh, thank you, thank you!’

She hugged her friend exuberantly, kissing her on both cheeks. Everyone around them roared delight, so Meryl guessed they all knew the story of how she’d played Cupid.

‘Now me,’ Benedict said, seizing Meryl up into his arms and kissing her heartily on each cheek, then her mouth. ‘It’s all right, Amanda knows she doesn’t have to be jealous.’ He winked at his wife. ‘Not after last night.’

More laughter. Champagne. Music. Dancing.

Some of the guests were journalists from fashion magazines, invited to inspect the new premises. She took them on a tour, proud of the cream and silver salon, the spacious dressing rooms, the fabulous collection behind securely locked doors. Along the centre of the main hall was a large catwalk, big enough to take five models walking side by side. Just now it was being used for dancing.

Meryl danced the night away, enjoying herself but beginning to realise nervously that her dress was even more outrageously daring than she’d guessed. Eventually she found herself dancing with Benedict, who eyed her décolletage with intense professional interest.

‘It’s not holding up as well as I thought,’ he observed, pointing to the offending part. ‘After all this dancing you’re showing more bosom than I meant you to.’

‘Now you tell me.’

At last she gave up, and stepped off the catwalk, breathless.

‘Meryl, wonderful to see you.’

Everett Hamlin was smiling at her. After the hugs and greetings she said, ‘Is Brenda here, too?’

‘’Course she is. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. We’ve got a friend of yours with us. Sarah Ashton.’

‘Of course, you met her at the wedding.’

‘That’s right. Terrific woman. Really knows her horses. Now where is she?’ He looked around.

‘Don’t worry,’ Meryl said quickly. ‘We’ll find each other. Tell me how you are…’

They drifted away together. In a few moments Meryl had forgotten Sarah. The party was a great success, the perfect rehearsal for the big one, the showing of the collection. As the dawn broke and the last guest had gone, she, Benedict and Amanda, were sitting with their heads together.

Jarvis met Sarah at the airport. ‘Good to have you back, my dear,’ he said, hugging her. ‘Let’s have some tea.’

When they were sitting in a café he observed, ‘You were supposed to be staying longer. Couldn’t live without us, I suppose?’

‘After what I saw I wanted to come home as soon as possible,’ she said in a low voice.

‘Sarah, what’s the matter. You look as if you’ve been crying.’

‘Oh, Jarvis, I don’t know how to tell you-it’s so terrible-’

‘What can be that terrible?’ he said, laughing. He was quite unsuspicious.

‘I went to a party in New York. It was given by Benedict Steen in that place she’s bought him. He and Meryl-’

‘Sarah, it’s all right. They’re just friends. She’s explained it all to me.’

In silence Sarah laid two pictures on the table.

The photographer who’d covered the party was good at his job. His work was sharp, with every detail in focus. It was a toss-up which shot was better, the one of Meryl dancing with Benedict, looking up into his face while he laughed down at her, his hand pointing towards her half-revealed breasts, or the one showing the two of them kissing.

‘I see,’ Jarvis said in a colourless voice. ‘I think we should get off home now.’

He rose and walked away. Sarah was a little disappointed that he left the pictures behind, but no matter. They’d served their purpose.

Another fifteen minutes and she would call Jarvis. Another ten minutes. Like a child postponing a treat Meryl watched the clock, counting the seconds until she could allow herself the pleasure.

Their phone calls always had an air of unreality. There was good-humoured banter and an undercurrent of tension, connected with the fierce kiss he’d given her. There had been another one when he saw her off at the airport, but that had been a restrained ‘married’ kiss, suitable for the eyes of strangers. The other had hinted at the passionate unrestraint of lovers, and that was the one she wanted to hurry back to.

Five minutes, four…

The phone rang.

‘Meryl?’

As soon as she heard Jarvis’s voice a smile spread all over her, and it was there in her own voice as she replied. ‘Yes, it’s me.’

But then everything went horribly wrong, as though the world had turned to ice around her, leaving her shivering and disbelieving.

Jarvis’s voice was more hostile than she’d ever heard it. ‘I trusted you. Fool that I was, I trusted you.’

‘Jarvis, what are you-?’

‘Not at first, mind you,’ he went on as though she hadn’t spoken. ‘At first I knew more or less what you were up to, and I wasn’t interested. That was what annoyed you, wasn’t it? A man who wasn’t interested. You can’t stand that. So you set yourself to bring me to heel, just for the pleasure of showing me who had the power.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Benedict Steen. A man you dance with half-naked and kiss in front of all the world. I’ve seen the pictures. Did you think they wouldn’t get back to me?’

‘Sarah,’ she breathed.

‘Yes, Sarah saw what you were up to.’

‘And made the worst of it.’

‘Is there any worst or best when my wife cavorts half-naked with her lover for anyone to see?’

‘He isn’t-’

‘Oh, please, I’ve heard that speech, and you were so convincing. But then you always were when you wanted to deceive me.’ She thought she heard a shuddering breath, and when he spoke again his voice wasn’t quite steady.

‘I was the last man in the world you could have persuaded, but that was the point, wasn’t it? The more I fought you, the greater your victory. You should be very proud of yourself, Meryl, because in the end you took me in completely. I was even falling in lo-’ Suddenly he couldn’t go on.

‘Jarvis, listen,’ she said urgently. ‘Benedict is back with his wife, and I made it happen. That party was to celebrate their reconciliation.’

‘Indeed! And I suppose his wife was watching while you kissed him.’

‘Yes, she was, and she was having the laugh of her life-’

‘Meryl, let it go.’ Jarvis sounded very tired. ‘You’ve won. I give in. Hang my scalp from your belt if it’s that important, just don’t come back to Larne. We made a deal and we’ve each kept our side. Leave it there.’

Meryl’s temper had been rising, and now it burst out. ‘No, damn you! I won’t leave it there. How dare you judge me without a hearing!’

‘Those pictures speak for themselves. What do I need to hear?’

‘Try listening to the truth, even if it doesn’t fit neatly into your preconceived ideas. I’ve always known you were a hard, judgmental man, but I thought we might find some love, and maybe it would be enough to make you ease up. But that’s not good enough for you, is it?

‘I haven’t been playing games, Jarvis. I love Larne. I could have loved you. But you don’t want to be loved. That’s what you can’t accept. Not just material things, but the love that goes with them. Love means taking risks, making mental leaps, and you find it safer to stay in your suspicious world. Everyone’s bad in there, and that’s how you like it, because that way you know what to think.

‘So stay in it. Never fear my coming back, because I won’t, ever. I haven’t played you false, and one day you’ll know that. But don’t bother trying to tell me because I’m finished! I’ve got better things to do with my life than spend it banging my head against a brick wall.’

Thousands of miles away Jarvis heard the click as she slammed down the phone. He had no way of hearing her storm of sobs.

Somehow life went on. Workmen arrived at Larne to start on the central heating. It was too late to cancel it now. That would invite too many questions, and Jarvis hadn’t the heart. A lassitude had descended on him. Everywhere he saw signs of new hope such as once he hadn’t dared dream of. And suddenly it all seemed so futile.

He tried to be logical. It was unreasonable to miss her so badly, except of course for estate matters where her presence would have been useful. But there were no estate matters in the middle of the night, and then the loss of her was a grinding misery that went on and on without relief.

It would have been convenient to have her around for the lunch that he held annually for his tenants and their families. He flinched at the thought of the curious eyes, the unspoken questions.

They all trooped in, Ned Race and Clarrie, his wife, Jack Tompkins and his Freda, Lillian, who rented a farm on her own account and took orders from no man, Peter and Elsie Somers and their daughter Helena, Sadie of the wools, and a dozen more. Meryl’s absence provoked a response that troubled Jarvis, but not in the way he’d expected.

‘New York, eh?’ Sadie exclaimed and looked around at the other women. They nodded. ‘She’s selling our stuff. She said she would.’

Jarvis was silent, heartsick. How could he tell these decent, kindly people that she’d betrayed them?

But Sarah would tell them. She and Ferdy were always invited, and over lunch she made herself busy. Jarvis couldn’t hear her words, but he could see the bewildered expressions of the others.

He functioned on automatic and managed somehow. Afterwards they all retired to the library for coffee, and a dispute flared up between Lillian and one of the men farmers about a news item she’d picked up that morning. Lillian was bolshie enough for ten and she went at it hammer and tongs, to everyone’s entertainment.

‘Must we argue now?’ Jarvis asked at last. ‘I think Lillian’s right, but it’ll be on the news tonight.’

‘It’ll be on the teletext right now,’ Lillian said firmly.

‘All right, if it’ll satisfy you. Ferdy, you’re nearest the set.’

Ferdy switched the television on and channel-hopped. Suddenly he stopped as though frozen, and said in a strange voice, ‘Isn’t that Meryl?’

Everyone looked at the screen where Meryl could clearly be viewed sashaying along a catwalk, clad in a knitted garment that brought yells of recognition.

‘We did that!’ The women spoke with one triumphant voice.

‘Mr Steen said design something wild and crazy for him,’ Sadie said. ‘I went as mad as I dared but he said “more”. So I made it madder and madder, and by the time he was satisfied it took three women to knit it and sew it together.’

Ferdy had turned up the sound and they listened, enthralled, to the announcer.

‘…Benedict Steen’s collection having its first showing in New York. There on the catwalk is his backer, Meryl Winters, now Lady Larne, modelling one of the revolutionary fashion knits from the Larne estate…’

‘Fancy that,’ Freda muttered. ‘We’re revolutionary.’

Ned Race tried to mutter something disparaging, but he was drowned out by every woman present.

‘She said she’d show our stuff in New York,’ Clarrie carolled. ‘You-’ she pointed an accusing finger at her husband ‘-you said she couldn’t do it.’

‘Lady Larne is a woman of her word,’ Ferdy observed, eyeing Jarvis steadily.

Jarvis didn’t see him. He was beyond speech or movement, his gaze fixed on his wife almost dancing elegantly along the catwalk, her smile brilliant.

Now she was talking to the presenter, pointing out details of the glorious creation she wore.

‘That’s us she’s talking about,’ Clarrie breathed. ‘Our knits. We’re high fashion!’

Ned Race, staging a rearguard action, muttered something and Clarrie turned on him.

‘You shut up, you old fool. With the orders I’m getting there’s enough to mend the pig barn and pay off the bank. So you can stir yourself and do some work for a change.’

Ned cast her a hunted look, but relapsed into silence.

Meryl had vanished from the screen, and the camera wandered over the crowd while the presenter continued in voiceover.

‘After this the collection will go to Paris, Milan, Rome, London-an extended trip that for Benedict Steen will also be a second honeymoon with his wife Amanda, with whom he’s recently been reconciled. Meryl, there’s a rumour that you played Cupid. Is it true?’

Meryl’s voiceover: ‘I did my bit, because if ever two people belong together Benedict and Amanda do. But they love each other, so this was always inevitable.’

Now Benedict was centre screen, his arm around a young woman, his adoring eyes on her. And there was Meryl beside them, laughing and calling to Benedict, ‘Kiss her-go on, kiss her-’ and leading the applause when he did.

Jarvis didn’t know how he got through the rest of the afternoon. Somehow he made the right responses, smiled without knowing why, and fended off questions. In his head he could hear Meryl’s voice,

I haven’t played you false, and one day you’ll know that. But don’t bother trying to tell me.

He came out of his unhappy reverie to discover that Ferdy was talking to him.

‘Sarah suddenly decided that she wanted to leave,’ he said in a voice that gave nothing away. ‘She’s gone ahead to the boat and asked me to say goodbye to you.’

‘I understand,’ said Jarvis, who was beginning to understand a lot of things.

At last it was mercifully over and he could be alone with his thoughts. But they were ugly and bitter and left him nowhere to hide.

He escaped to his room, but found a noise coming from the connecting passage. There he found a workman making measurements.

‘Central heating,’ the young man explained.

‘Oh, yes.’

‘It’s a bit narrow in here for a radiator,’ Fred observed.

‘You could cut a bit out of this inner wall,’ Jarvis said, trying to make himself interested. ‘It must be feet thick, so there’ll be no problem.’

The next day the workman started drilling, and almost at once he knew that the stone wall wasn’t feet thick. No more than ten inches, he estimated from the sound. He kept going and soon emerged on the other side. Then he drilled again until he was able to move one large stone right out. He held up his flashlight and peered in. What he saw made him freeze for a long, shocked moment before hurrying away to find his foreman.