Her fine eyebrows rose as she stared back at herself, then she suddenly blinked and shook her head. `Because fair was fair,' she whispered fiercely.
A man like Julian Cridell wouldn't have looked twice at her in any other circumstances. She had no looks, and certainly not the kind of background a wife of his ought to have.
They simply had nothing in common with each other, and if anything, she seemed to annoy him by her strict adherence to the rules. She sighed. Used to annoy him, she thought sadly. Now it only amused him that a slip of a girl like her would dare to oppose his wishes.
To Melanie's relief, Celia was included in the next morning's lesson, and it was she who kept correcting her stroke action under the watchful eye of Julian.
Within a few days, Melanie was able to swim the length of the pool accompanied by Celia, who timed her stroke to the much slower Melanie's, and declared that it wouldn't be long before they would be racing each other the length of the pool.
During this period, most of Melanie's fears where Julian were concerned had faded away, and she managed to convince herself that she had let her imagination run away with her, even to the extent of finding herself actually seeking his approbation in her prowess as much as Celia had done.
For the first time since their arrival at the villa, she began to enjoy herself, and it would never have crossed her mind that she was slowly but surely becoming enmeshed deeper and deeper into the very situation she had been so determined to avoid.
A week later, Julian announced that they would be leaving at the end of the week for the UK. Melanie, like Celia, felt a slight regret that such a lovely holiday had come to an end, but they had had three weeks of sunshine, and even her pale features now shone with a healthy tan.
It was only on the plane journey home that Melanie began slowly to come back to reality. Not surprisingly, it was the thought of contacting her Aunt Alice again soon after they had settled back at Oaklands that
started off an uncomfortable trend of thought.
She had written her a short letter to the effect that she had found employment, and that it was a living-in position, and that she was off with her employer and charge on holiday. Then she had posted a card to her shortly after thay had arrived in the Bahamas, and said she would contact her again when she got back.
Her frown deepened as she studied this problem. What on earth could she say to her now? She had made no mention of her marriage. How could she? How could she possibly have written a letter to her aunt that went something on the lines, 'Dear Aunt Alice, I have married my boss. It was very sudden, but don't worry, it wasn't a real marriage, and I expect it will be annulled before the end of the year.'
She drew a swift inward breath. There was only one answer—simply to write and tell her that she was back in the UK and would keep in touch with her.
At this point, she felt a light touch on her arm, which gave her quite a start in spite of the gentleness of the touch. She came back from her worries to meet the grey, enquiring gaze of Julian.
'What's wrong?' he asked quietly.
Melanie had forgotten how quick he was to sense her moods, and glanced towards Celia, who was obligingly asleep on the opposite seat. 'I was just thinking about my aunt,' she said, and left it at that.
'She's welcome to pay us a visit any time,' said Julian.
Melanie stared back at him. 'I don't think that would be a very good idea,'she replied in a low voice.
Julian's autocratic brows rose. 'I fail to see why not,' he argued reasonably. 'She'll be anxious, no doubt, to meet her niece's husband, and naturally I shall be interested to meet my wife's only relation.'
Melanie's eyes widened at this cool assessment of the situation, and all the fears that she had pushed to the back of her mind came stampeding back. 'You're not my husband,' she said in a low, furious voice, 'and I'm not your wife, and you know it. It's purely a business arrangement, and I'm certainly not going to put myself in the position of having to explain that to my aunt. She's one of the old school, and has definite views on propriety. I'm very fond of her,' she added icily. 'As far as she's concerned, I have a good job, and that's all she's going to know,' she ended flatly.
There was a tautness around Julian's firm mouth, that suggested that he was not amused; in fact, he was very angry indeed. 'I shall send her an invitation to visit Oaklands,' he announced grandly, as if Melanie hadn't spoken.
Melanie's eyes sparked shoots of fire as she struggled to compose herself. 'So you'll explain everything, will you ?' she got out.
`I don't see what there is to explain, as you put it,' he replied calmly. 'These things happen. You're not the first young lady to marry her boss, and you won't be the last,' he added lightly.
Melanie was too choked to give this bland statement the attention it warranted. All she could manage was a stuttered, 'You..I—
Julian patted her shoulder in a gesture that might have been used to calm an hysterical child. 'There, there,' he said soothingly. 'You just think about it. You're crossing your bridges before you come to them, you know.'
They weren't bridges, not in Melanie's opinion, they were deep treacherous chasms, and she had no chance of avoiding them; the odds were too heavily stacked against her!
They landed at Heathrow in glorious sunshine, for it was July, but the hot, sticky atmosphere that pervaded the airport with its scurrying passengers on their outward or inward journeys made the beautiful island they had left a day ago seem aeons away in time.
The car was awaiting them outside the airport precincts, and Jenks was politely enquiring after his employer's health and hoping that they had enjoyed their holiday. After receiving affirmation of this, he went on to say in his smooth, unobtrusive voice that all was well at Oaklands, and that Amy had just got herself engaged to Johnson, the head gardener's lad.
All this Melanie heard, but for all the attention she paid to this innocuous exchange of news, she might still have been on the plane, for her thoughts were centred on that conversation she had had with Julian regarding her aunt.
If Julian said he would invite Aunt Alice to Oaklands, then he would do just that. All she could hope for was time to work out some sort of a solution. Talk to him, plead with him to see things from her point of view, so that when her aunt did visit them she would find her niece carrying out her duties as a companion to his daughter, and nothing more.
On recalling the last few hectic hours before they had left for the Caribbean, Melanie almost winced as she remembered the way the staff had not only accepted her marriage to Julian, but heartily endorsed it!
If confirmation was needed on this, she had only to recall Jenks's deferential treatment on the seating arrangements in the car. Julian, as before, had sat next to his chauffeur after watching his family seated, and it should have been Celia who was attended first, but
it had been Melanie who was given first choice of position.
How could she hope to keep the truth from her aunt with the staff addressing her either as Madam or, worse still, Mrs Cridell?
Melanie swallowed. Somehow she had to dissuade Julian from any idea of inviting her aunt down to Oaklands, and if that didn't work, get hold of the invitation. She knew the post was left for one of the gardener's boys to take down to the postbox in the lane a mile away, and she would have to keep a watching brief on all outgoing mail.
Her misery deepened. It was an impossible task. All her schemes would come to nothing should he post the invitation in London from his office. Supposing he decided to visit her aunt instead of sending her an invitation? Melanie's quick catch of breath at this disturbing thought caught Celia's attention, and she took her gaze off the passing scenery to look back at Melanie. Sensing the look, Melanie quickly feigned sleep.
'Melanie's suffering from jet lag, Dad,' Celia commented.
`It's to be expected,' replied her father, twisting round to look at Melanie whose eyes remained tightly shut. 'In time, she'll become as used as you and I have come to be to readjusting to the time lag.'
Melanie almost gave herself away at this point, and only just prevented herself from grimacing at this bold statement, for it underlined everything that he had said about the future, and that he had no intention of letting her go.
Back at Oaklands, life seemed even more removed from reality for Melanie, who instantly found herself being addressed as 'Madam' by the staff, not in any servile attitude, but in respect for her position and, it
appeared, a genuine wish to help her maintain it.
That this was in accordance with Julian's orders Melanie was in no doubt, but there were ways, she knew, in which such orders could be countermanded by the staff in many small ways without fear of dismissal. But she encountered none of this, and it only increased her fears for the future.
It was as if there was one big conspiracy, she thought wearily as she slipped away to her room two days after their return. She was still the sacrificial goat, now being fattened up for the sacrifice. She winced at this thought. Couldn't they see that she was entitled to a life of her own choosing? They had no right to push her into a pigeonhole labelled 'Mrs Julian Cridell'.
Had no one, for one moment in time, thought about her feelings in the matter? She thought of Celia, now renewing her acquaintance with Popsie in the paddock, and stirred restlessly. Certainly not Celia. Celia considered her father irresistible to the opposite sex, and by the evidence of her own eyes during their stay on the island, Melanie could hardly blame her for taking that view. No doubt the servants were of the same mind, she thought sourly, recalling little Amy's almost fatuous expression when serving at the table when Julian was present at the meal—and she was a newly engaged girl, who should have eyes for no one but her sweetheart!
The same could be said of Mrs Soames, who quite plainly would do anything for the master, and Melanie was sure he could do no wrong in her eyes.
Her dispassionate glance went around her small sitting-room; at least she could be thankful that she still had her private quarters, but even these had been encroached upon by Julian since their arrival back at
Oaklands under the flimsy excuse of wanting to discuss a dinner party that he wanted to give to a few neighbours of his, at whose table he had dined several times but whose hospitality he had never reciprocated.
Thinking about it afterwards, it did occur to Melanie that there was a pertinent reason for the occasion, and that was to introduce her to the local gentry, with whom, she thought depressingly, she would have nothing in common.
She had tried to convey this to Julian at the time, but there had been no 'discussion' as Julian had termed it. That had only been an excuse for his intrusion into her private quarters. Julian didn't discuss things with her. He simply told her, and she was expected to fall into line with his plans.
Her hopes of being excused attendance were crushed by Julian's sharp retort. 'Nonsense. Of course you must attend. I'm inviting Andrew Misting and Anna. I had word from him this morning that they've just bought a property thirty miles away, and will, no doubt, be visiting us as soon as they've settled in.'
There was no answer to that, Melanie thought dully, and no chance of her crying off.
Her fingers clenched a fold in her pleated skirt; she might just as well give in. No matter what, she wasn't going to be allowed to win.
Any day now she would receive a request from Julian for her aunt's address. Perhaps she would be invited to the dinner party, too? Melanie closed her eyes; that would undoubtedly include the leering Arthur Makin.
In her mind's eye she envisaged the gathering. She had no fears about her aunt feeling out of her depth among the county élite. As the headmistress of a select private girls' school before her retirement, she would
be more at home in such company than Melanie herself was. No, Melanie had no worries on that score, but she had plenty on another. Aunt Alice might have been taken in by the plausible Arthur Makin, but she wouldn't be taken in where Melanie's marriage was concerned, and it wouldn't take her long to realise that there was something decidedly odd about the arrangements.
The only thing she could do, Melanie thought, was to come clean about everything. Her aunt would be shocked that such an agreement had been entered into, but once that part of it was over, Melanie felt that she would accept the facts as they were, and there would be no further need for evasiveness on her part. Of one thing she was determined, only her aunt would receive this confidence, so somehow she would have to work things so that she got her on her own, for the purpose of enlightening her.
She sighed deeply. As Julian had once said, she was probably crossing her bridges before she came to them, and in all probability he wouldn't include her aunt in the gathering, but would settle for an afternoon visit, to include tea.
She brightened a little at this point. There was less chance of her aunt spotting anything unusual in an afternoon visit. Julian's manners were impeccable, one could hardly expect a sophisticated man of his age to act the doting lover around the tea-table.