Charles de Lisle snorted.
‘You’ve got to believe me. I married Romily for love, and no other reason.’
The older man’s lips tightened and his eyes glittered
dangerously
. ‘If that is the case,’ he said in a calm, cold voice, ‘then why did you run away together like a pair of criminals? If your love was true and your intentions honourable, why act as if you wanted to steal our daughter away from us? Why marry before we could arrange some reasonable safeguards? If your heart is as pure and untouched by any desire for money as you say, then why not sign a prenuptial agreement? My lawyers could easily have drawn up a piece of paper that would have allowed you to demonstrate your motives by renouncing all claims to my daughter’s substantial fortune. I note that this did not happen.’ De Lisle shrugged lightly. ‘And therefore I must draw my own conclusions.’
A good point
, observed the lawyer.
This undermines the case for love somewhat
.
‘Sir, I had no idea of the extent of Romily’s wealth.’ The young man came back to the table and leant on it, his eyes imploring.
‘You saw where she lived. Hardly the kind of place you’d find a poor girl.’
‘I’m an American, Mr de Lisle. All of Paris looks like it’s pretty fancy as far as I’m concerned. I don’t know where your rich people live or which are the exclusive districts. I only ever saw the outside of the place and, yeah, sure, I thought it looked like her folks were doing all right – but that didn’t mean I had any idea what Romily was truly worth. To be honest, we never discussed it.’ He seemed to be working hard to control himself but couldn’t disguise the note of frustration in his voice. ‘I never asked – because I wasn’t goddamned interested!’
‘Mmm.’ The older man eyed him sceptically. ‘And yet you ran away. You must admit that looks underhand? Deceiving, even. Guilty.’
‘It was entirely Romily’s idea. I didn’t care when or how we got married. She convinced me that we should elope
because
she said otherwise her parents would stand in our way and she simply couldn’t wait. I went along with it because I loved her, but it was all her idea.’
‘Of course it was.’ Monsieur de Lisle smiled thinly.
The funny thing is, I believe the young man
, thought the lawyer.
He seems genuine. Or he is a fantastic actor? That cannot be ruled out, I suppose
.
‘You are a chef,’ Monsieur de Lisle said disdainfully. ‘You have nothing. How did you expect to support your new wife?’
‘I’m a chef right now,’ Mitch said, evidently working hard to hang on to his patience. ‘But I have big plans. I intend to open my own restaurant, here or in New York, and it will be a great success. The restaurant business is booming.’
‘I see.’ Monsieur de Lisle looked bored by the whole idea. ‘But now we come to the heart of the matter. Your true motives come to light. You will need to finance this fantasy of yours, will you not?’
Mitch gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. Then he said, ‘Yes, I’ll need to find backers, that’s true. It can’t be done without an initial investment.’
‘You
did
need to find backers. You will not now. Because you have very conveniently married one.’ Monsieur de Lisle’s voice had a triumphant ring.
And that is a good point
, thought the lawyer, raising his eyebrows slightly and gazing over at the young man to see how he would defend himself against this accusation.
‘I have no idea if Romily has any interest in backing my venture or not. I haven’t mentioned it to her. And I don’t have any idea how much money she has, believe it or not.’
‘I
don’t
believe it!’ Charles de Lisle seemed to lose his temper then. He slammed his fist down on the table. ‘Come on, Mr Mitchell! Do you seriously expect me to believe that you don’t know what my daughter is worth? You could find out anywhere what her family owns, what she is due to inherit.’
He
fixed the young man with a hard stare. ‘You know that she owns several de Lisle paintings, surely. Just one of those could fund your restaurant several times over. Do you really think I could be so naive as to believe you had no idea of any of this? Please, Mr Mitchell, do not insult my intelligence.’
‘It may surprise you, sir, but these thoughts never once crossed my mind. I’m in love. I’ve just got married. I’m enjoying this time in my life.’
Charles de Lisle gazed at Mitch’s suit. ‘And finding time for a little shopping, I see. Are you still working at the restaurant?’
‘No, sir, I’m on an extended honeymoon, and Romily and I are still deciding our future.’ Mitch paused and then said, ‘Sir, it would make us both so happy if you and her mother could find it in your hearts to give our marriage a chance. Family is important to both of us.’
At this, Charles de Lisle’s face burned with fury and he leapt to his feet. When he replied, his voice was trembling with rage. ‘You are not part of my family and you never will be, do you understand me?’
‘Very well.’ Mitch stood up straight and squared his shoulders. ‘If that’s the way you want it. I have to warn you, sir, you cannot use money as a threat against Romily and me. We don’t care if we have it or not.’
‘Ha! Easy to say, less easy to live by. Do you imagine Romily will be happy being poor with you in a garret somewhere?’
‘Yes, I do,’ Mitch retorted.
‘Then you’re a fool!’ spat Charles. ‘You know nothing. She has lived all her life in luxury, surrounded by high society. She has never wanted for anything. She has no conception of what it means to live without money. The reality would amaze and appal her.’
‘You said yourself, she owns valuable paintings. There is no need for her to go without if she doesn’t want to.’
‘Aha! Now we see. Now we see!’ Charles de Lisle looked pleased, despite his palpable rage. ‘You admit she has her own money? You’re prepared for her to sell her birthright to maintain you both?’
‘If that’s what Romily wants to do, I’d never stop her.’ Mitch spoke in a clipped manner as though still trying hard to remain reasonable while anger simmered within him.
‘Of course you wouldn’t.’
The young man added with a tone of finality, ‘But I intend to earn my own money.’
‘Very admirable,’ hissed Charles. ‘And very unlikely. You’d have to cook millions of meals just to buy Romily her winter wardrobe for one season.’
Mitch shrugged and smiled. ‘I love her, sir. I do appreciate the generous amount of money you’ve offered me to divorce your daughter’ – his voice held just a tinge of sarcasm now – ‘but I don’t intend to take you up on it. You won’t be able to change my mind.’
De Lisle sat down slowly, averting his gaze for a while as though defeated. Then he lifted his eyes and stared Mitch full in the face, his expression ambiguous. ‘If I cannot persuade you, perhaps my daughter can.’
‘What?’ Mitch frowned, a deep crease forming on his handsome brow.
‘Please, sit down.’
What on earth is coming next?
wondered the lawyer. He’d been impressed by the chef’s tenacity and determination, and was privately convinced that he had married the girl for love and not money. Nonetheless, he could see it from the father’s point of view.
The girl hasn’t a clue what she’s let herself in for. In a marriage of unequals like this, resentment comes creeping in before long. When the ecstasy has worn itself out, the recriminations begin
.
Mitch stared at his father-in-law for a long moment and
then
sat down in a chair, muttering, ‘I’m not going to change my mind.’
Charles de Lisle made a gesture to one of his flunkies who came forward and placed a small machine on the table next to de Lisle’s place. ‘Thank you.’ He looked at Mitch. ‘The very latest in technology,’ he remarked. ‘So clever. A remarkably discreet but very sensitive digital voice recorder.’ He turned back to the assistant. ‘Turn it on, please.’
The flunky pressed a button and the room instantly filled with sound. It was the background noise of a café or restaurant: tinkling glasses, the gentle clatter of cutlery on china, and the hum of conversation. Then a female voice asked, ‘So what about this chef you’ve married?’
There was the sound of laughter and then Romily’s voice said, ‘It’s such fun, darling. Do you know, the best thing about it is the way my parents have hit the roof? They’ve gone ballistic! All very satisfactory.’
‘And do you love him?’
Romily’s voice was playful and light-hearted. ‘Huh, love! I don’t think so! It’s a game, isn’t it? The sex is amazing. He’ll make a very good first husband.’
‘How long will you stay with him?’
‘I don’t know. While it’s fun. No doubt we’ll buy him off when the time comes.’
Charles de Lisle leant forward and clicked off the button. Silence filled the room.
The lawyer glanced quickly at Mitch and felt sorry for the poor young man. What they had just heard on the tape had turned everything he’d said into a ludicrous farce, humiliation on a grand scale.
What a tour de force
, he thought admiringly.
De Lisle lured him brilliantly all the way down the path and then – snap! The trap sprang shut
.
Mitch sat, white-faced and perfectly still. He stared at the table, his hands held tightly together to prevent any possibility
of
their trembling. Then he stood up and returned to his spot by the window, staring out on to the street below until Charles de Lisle broke the silence.
‘Perhaps you would like a little time alone, to think over what you’ve heard?’ he suggested almost gently.
Mitch spun round, his expression unreadable but everything in his face looking tight and ill. ‘No need for that, sir. May I please borrow that thing?’
Charles shot a look at his assistant, who raised his eyebrows in return. ‘Yes,’ he said hesitantly. ‘But you must know that we have many copies of this recording. You can’t simply lose it or throw it into the Seine. Make it go away.’
‘I have no intention of doing that. And, you can rest assured, I’ll return your property within the day.’
‘Very well.’
The young man came over, snatched up the player and stared at it.
‘It’s very straightforward, like any tape player,’ said Charles helpfully. ‘Look, rewind, and play.’
Mitch slipped it in his pocket, his gaze distracted as though he was only half seeing the room. ‘I’ll be back later. You’ll have my answer then.’ Then he strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Charles de Lisle looked at his lawyers. ‘So,’ he said, satisfied. ‘That seemed to go very well. I think we have achieved our objective, gentlemen. I’d be very surprised if things do not go our way after this.’
A triumph
, agreed the lawyer silently.
And a surprise. I believed in that love story. Who would have thought the girl was a cynical little puss all along?
Mitch strode through the streets of Paris, not seeing anyone or anything as he wove his way through the tourists on the broad avenues, intent only on getting back to the tiny flat in
the
Marais that he now shared with Romily. As he walked he heard those few lightly spoken sentences over and over again in his mind:
Huh, love! I don’t think so! It’s a game, isn’t it?
He’ll make a very good first husband
.
No doubt we’ll buy him off when the time comes
.
Emotion choked him: fury, despair, shock, grief, and a horrible sense of sickness that made him fear he would have to stop and vomit in the street. He had felt nothing like it since he had put himself through cold turkey to break his heroin addiction. But he managed to contain it, determined only to get home to Romily and demand the truth from her.
The journey passed in a nightmarish swirl of faces and nausea, and then, suddenly, he was bounding up the steps to their apartment. He opened the door and burst into the tiny sitting room where Romily was on the sofa, her legs tucked beneath her while she talked on the telephone.
‘Oh, hello, darling!’ she said brightly, as he came in. ‘That’s Mitch,’ she said into the receiver, ‘he’s just come home.’
He marched over, snatched the phone out of her hand, pressed it off and threw it on to the floor.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked, looking shocked.
‘Get up,’ he snapped.
‘What?’ she stammered. ‘You’re frightening me. Is something wrong?’
‘Get the hell up!’ He grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. ‘Now. Listen.’
He took the machine out of his pocket, powered it on, pressed rewind and then play. The background noise of the café or wherever it was sounded loud in the quiet of the small flat. The voices began. ‘
So what about this chef you’ve married?
’
Mitch watched his wife closely as she listened. When she heard her own voice, her eye flickered wide open in surprise.
As
her words echoed round the room, the colour drained from her face and she seemed stunned.
It was all over in just a few moments. He clicked off the tape and they stared at each other, seeing their own hurt and bewilderment reflected in each other’s eyes.
‘But, but … No, it’s not true! It’s not true!’
‘Is that your voice?’
‘Yes, yes … and it all sounds familiar. But I never said it like that!’
‘Is it your voice?’ Mitch asked again.
‘Yes … it’s me … but I don’t understand.’
‘Did you say, “He’ll make a good first husband”?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘How could you, Romily?’ he whispered. Pain clenched his guts.
She stared at him, frightened and desperate. ‘I wasn’t talking about you. Please, Mitch, you’ve got to believe me!’ She put out her arms to hug him but he shook her off.
‘How many husbands have you damn well got? I’ve been taken for a hell of ride,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I’ve just been put through the fucking wringer by your father, and I’ve sworn on my life that we’re madly in love. Then I hear this. Is that all I am to you? A game? A bit of fun in your rich girl’s life? You just like the way I screw you, huh? Well, now you’ve screwed me, real good.’
Romily began to sob. ‘No, no! I love you, Mitch! I don’t understand how this is happened.’