Innocent on Her Wedding Night (14 page)

Laine’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Sometimes I wonder too.’ She picked up her bouquet of white roses and freesias and walked to the door. ‘It’s time we were going.’

Jamie was waiting for her in the hall. ‘Hey, you look pretty good,’ he informed her with brotherly candour. ‘The Lily Maid personified. Maybe Dan isn’t completely off his head after all.’

Laine gasped. ‘What the hell do you mean by that?’

‘Just that he’s never seemed the marrying type,’ Jamie retorted as he helped her into the back of the waiting car. ‘And I bet the news went down like a lead balloon with Ma, although she couldn’t really have thought—’ He broke off abruptly, then started on a different tack. ‘Did you know she insisted we invite that Tanfield bloke to Dan’s stag night? Guy, the best man, reckons the slimy git wears a toupée, and if we’d had a bit more to drink we might have found out,’ he added, grinning. ‘But it turned out to be a pretty sober affair in the end. I guess my future brother-in-law didn’t want a serious hangover affecting his bridal performance.’

‘It would have to be more than serious to last for twenty-four hours.’ Laine spoke lightly, trying to hide her embarrassment.

Jamie gave her a derisive look. ‘If he intends to wait that long. There’s no law saying sex can only take place under cover of darkness, sister dear. As you may well find out before too long.’

Laine said quietly, ‘Could we change the subject, please?’

‘Absolutely,’ he agreed, unabashed. ‘Because it so happens I want a quiet word with you about a business matter.’

She gasped. ‘On the way to church?’

‘Why not? It’s good news, Lainie. The Beaumonts have decided to retire to Portugal—and they’ve given notice on the flat. It’ll be empty by the end of the month, and I’d like to move in there, but as it belongs to you too I have to get your written consent.’

He gave her an anxious look. ‘You won’t make waves, will you? After all, it’s not as if you’ll ever need the place yourself.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I won’t. And it’s fine with me. Send me whatever I need to sign when I come back from honeymoon.’

There were more people at the service than she’d expected, and not all of them wishing her well, she thought with a pang as she stood beside Daniel at the altar. But the ceremony itself, with its calm traditional words, was a comfort and a reassurance. She heard Daniel promise to love her until death, and vowed she would do the same. And the warmth of his mouth on hers became a benediction that made her tremble inside.

As they sat together in the back of the car returning them to Abbotsbrook for the brief reception, Daniel drew her close against him, his lips caressing her hair. He said softly, a smile in his voice, ‘Well, Mrs Flynn. Here we are at last.’

And Laine, staring down at her wedding ring, felt joy unfurl inside her like the buds on a springtime tree.

As soon as the toasts had been drunk and the cake cut, she slipped away to change. Celia, she saw with amusement, was flirting with the best man, and clearly did not wish to be disturbed.

But, Laine thought, I’d rather be on my own too—for these last moments in my old home before I leave it for ever as Dan’s wife.

She was in bra and briefs, just stepping into the pale yellow shift she planned to wear for the journey, when there was a knock on the door.

Daniel, she thought, her heart leaping, and called, ‘Come in.’

But when she saw her visitor she felt sick with disappointment.

‘Candida,’ she said. ‘What a surprise.’

‘It’s been a pretty surprising day all round,’ the older girl returned. She walked across the room, and sat down without invitation, on the edge of the bed, next to the case which, thankfully, Laine had just closed. ‘So Daniel actually went through with it. I’m amazed.’

Laine drew up her dress, sliding her arms into the brief cap sleeves, then began to fasten the long line of small fabric-covered buttons which closed its front.

She said quietly, ‘If you’ve come here to be unpleasant, I’d prefer you to leave.’

‘Oh, very dignified,’ Candida said mockingly. ‘The publishing tycoon’s lady to the life. He may not want to be married to you, but at least you’ll play the part—while it lasts.’

Laine walked to the door and opened it. ‘That’s quite enough,’ she said stonily.

‘Now, get out.’

‘When I’m good and ready. And only when I’ve finished saying what I came to say.

So I suggest you come back and listen. I really do.

‘That’s better,’ she went on, as the younger girl slowly closed the door and went over to sit on her dressing stool. ‘You see, Elaine, I actually feel sorry for you. When Daniel said “I will” today, you must have thought you’d just won the major prize in life’s lottery.’

She smiled slowly. ‘But what you really heard, my poor child, was a man reluctantly stepping into the shoes of his dead friend. Steeling himself to accept responsibility for Simon’s hopeless and helpless little sister—just as he once promised.

‘A promise he made totally against his will, because he never believed he’d be called on to keep it. Because he was counting on Simon coming back and letting him off the hook.

‘Only Simon didn’t come back. Not for him—or anyone.’ Her voice took on a vicious note. ‘And suddenly Dan had you—round his neck like an albatross—weeping and wailing about the hand life had dealt you, with no qualifications and no prospects. Making him pity you all over again, and reminding him that he’d given his word he’d look after you.’

Laine said thickly, ‘I—don’t believe you.’

‘Of course not.’ Candida shrugged lightly. ‘And I don’t blame you. In your shoes I’d much rather persuade myself that Daniel had fallen in love with me. Except that his attentions haven’t been exactly marked since your engagement—or before it, for that matter.’

She gave a silvery laugh. ‘In fact I’d be most surprised to discover that you’re any more than just good friends. Although I’m sure Daniel will do his duty by you tonight.’

‘Duty?’ Laine lifted her chin disdainfully, trying to conceal the fact that her heart was thudding like a battering ram against her ribcage, and that she felt sick to her stomach with fright. ‘You imagine that’s all it will be?’

Candida regarded her calmly. ‘You still don’t believe me, do you? Would you like proof?’

No, thought Laine. I want you to disappear. I want the last five minutes never to have happened. I want the door to open all over again, and Daniel to come in and take me in his arms.

She sat and watched as Candida unfastened the clasp on her slim black bag and extracted a folded sheet of notepaper.

‘I’m afraid I found this among Simon’s things,’ she said. ‘Please believe it gives me no pleasure to show it to you.’

‘Then why are you doing so?’ Laine was thankful to see that her hand didn’t tremble as she took it.

‘Because you stand in grave danger of making a fool of yourself, and seriously embarrassing Daniel as well, and I’m sure you don’t want that. So it’s obviously preferable that you understand the terms of your marriage from the outset, and don’t ask for more than he can give.’

As soon as she unfolded the sheet Laine recognised Daniel’s handwriting. The letter began abruptly.

Si—I apologise about last night. I know we both said things we now regret. But being suddenly asked to accept responsibility for Laine’s welfare if you don’t make it back from Annapurna frankly knocked me sideways. As I told you, I don’t want that kind of involvement. Not any more. You know my reasons for this, and I’m sorry you objected to them, because they are not ever going to change.

However, I’ve thought things over since, and I concede you have valid reasons for being concerned about Laine, especially if you’re going to be absent for any length of time. Therefore, in spite of my personal reservations, I accept the obligation to take charge of her in your place, even though it’s a hellish burden as things are. But I realise there is probably no one else you can ask.

One more thing. Simon, man, this Annapurna trip sounds like really bad news. You clearly feel it, and I’m certain of it. I’m also sure it can’t be too late to back out, even now.

But, at the same time, I know that’s not your style, so all I can say is if you go, make bloody certain you come back safely, or you could wreck my life and Laine’s, as well as destroying your own. Just don’t do this to us all. Please.

As ever, Dan.

Laine read it through, then read it again more slowly, until every line, every word, every syllable was etched into her aching brain. Never to be forgotten—or forgiven.

She raised her head and looked at the smiling face of the woman lounging on her bed, and she wanted to claw at that smile until the blood ran.

Instead she said, with a soft dignity she hadn’t known she possessed, ‘Thank you. Do—do you want it back?’

‘I don’t think so. It’s served its purpose, so you keep it.’ Candida uncoiled herself, rose, and walked to the door. ‘Poor Elaine,’ she said. ‘I’ve shattered your illusions, haven’t I? But surely that’s better coming from me than from Dan?

‘Besides, you’ve married the man you’re crazy about—and half a loaf is always preferable to no bread at all, or so they tell me. Just keep reminding yourself of that, and I’m sure everything will be fine.’

The door closed softly, and she was gone.

When she could move, Laine stood up and went across to her case. She opened it, slipped the folded letter into one of the side pockets, and zipped it away.

As if by hiding it she could somehow erase the memory of it too—of the stinging phrases that had brought her life crashing around her.

‘Hellish burden,’ she said aloud, trying the words on her tongue as she looked at herself in the mirror. Saw the ghost in the half-buttoned dress, with eyes like bottomless pits.

And thought, Oh God, what am I going to do? What can I do?

She had still found no answers to those questions some two hours later, when she arrived with Daniel at their honeymoon destination.

It was as if she’d become two people, she thought as she sat beside him in the car, looking at the flying countryside with unseeing eyes. One who smiled with the expected radiance of a new bride, who chatted and kissed people goodbye, then tossed her bouquet so that Celia caught it. And another secret person who waited numbly in some inner darkness and prayed for the pain to cease.

She could not remain in the marriage. That was one certainty to emerge from her silent soul searching. The other, more importantly, was that Daniel must never find out that she knew why he’d married her—must never realise that she’d seen that wretched letter, and the agonising truth it contained. That, at eighteen years old, her marriage was a myth and she herself simply an unwanted wife. An obligation and a responsibility that he’d been forced to acquire.

But, although she might know his secret, he could not be allowed to know hers, or she would die of humiliation.

Oh, why did I let him see that I dreaded going to Spain? she asked herself desperately. I should have pretended that it was an adventure—an ideal opportunity for me—and by doing so released him from the coercion of his promise to Simon.

‘You’re very quiet,’ Daniel observed suddenly, startling her from her confused and unhappy thoughts. ‘You’ve hardly said two words since we set off. Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine.’ When had she learned to be such an accomplished liar? ‘A little tired, maybe, after all the rushing about of the past few weeks, that’s all.’

‘I should have been around more.’ He was frowning slightly, his swift sideways glance at her concerned. ‘I let that damned takeover occupy too much of my time.

But all that stops right here,’ he added softly. ‘From now on, I intend to concentrate solely on you, my sweet.’

Don’t call me that, she thought. Don’t look at me as if I matter. Above all—don’t be kind—because I can’t bear it. Not when I know that’s all there is…

‘I hope you like the cottage,’ he went on. ‘A couple called Jackson run the place for the owners—do all the cooking and cleaning, and look after the garden.

‘It sounds wonderful.’ A mechanical response, as if she’d been programmed.

And of course it was wonderful—’cottage’ being a total misnomer for the charming redbrick house rambling round three sides of a courtyard. The Jacksons, large, placid and clearly discreet, were waiting to welcome them, and to take their bags up to a large bedroom overlooking the rear garden.

The window was open, and Laine went straight to it, trying not to look as if she was deliberately ignoring the wide bed with its pretty patchwork coverlet and snowy linen. She knelt on the cushioned window seat, inhaling the scent of the flowers drifting up from below and touching with her fingertips the petals of the Gloire de Dijon rose that covered the adjacent wall.

‘Happy?’ Daniel spoke from behind her, his voice gentle.

‘Of course,’ she returned. ‘It’s beautiful.’ She turned, glancing round her.

‘Although there doesn’t seem to be a lot of cupboard space.’

‘My God,’ he said. ‘How much stuff have you brought?’ He waited a moment for her to respond to his teasing smile, but in vain. He added more slowly, ‘There’s another room across the passage. I can put my things in there, if you want. Give you more space.’

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Then perhaps we could have some tea?’

‘A delightful idea,’ Daniel said cordially. ‘And when, if ever, am I going to be allowed to kiss you? Let alone undo the buttons on that intriguing dress?’

She remembered Jamie’s casual comment. Thought how, only a few hours before. she would have gone with shy eagerness into his arms, yielding her mouth and her body to his possession. Now, she managed a nervous laugh. ‘Daniel—it’s broad daylight—the middle of the afternoon.’

‘As you wish,’ He said, after a pause. ‘After all, I’ve waited so long already that a few more hours won’t kill me.’ He moved away towards the door. ‘I’ll speak to Mrs Jackson about your tea, then go and unpack.’

Alone, Laine found she was staring at the bed as if hypnotised. The bed where Daniel would later perform his duties as her husband, with probable skill and enjoyment. Because he was a man, and she was new and available. And, as she’d learned from Celia and other more worldly-wise friends, where men were concerned sex and love were not necessarily part of the same equation.