Ryman, Rebecca (65 page)

"Early
marriage?" Disbelief turned into rapture. "How early—tomorrow?
Today,
if it suits you better!" He could barely stay still.

"Don't
be silly, Freddie. Next week will do just fine. I want no fuss. A simple,
private ceremony with just the families." She spoke with a curious calm, a
sense of purpose that was nerveless, as if she had died and emerged elsewhere,
evacuated of all feeling.

"An
elopement, dear heart, if you wish! Only the two of us—"

"What
would be your mother's reaction to a quick wedding?" she cut in
impatiently, dismissing his suggestion with a gesture.

"Oh,
you can leave the mater safely to me." In a burst of confidence, his chest
expanded. "She'll damn well do as I ask."

Again
Olivia dodged his arms. "Wait, I haven't finished yet! You must hear me
out. I have a condition." Trying not to give in to the revulsion that lay
just beneath the hard outer skin, she sounded brisk.

"A
condition? Only one?" He laughed with abandon, one hand flat against his
heart. "Well, lay it down, my darling—lay them
all
down. I accept
with no questions. You think I give a damn when—"

"Freddie,
please
stop!"
Cracks threatened the surface of her iron control.
"My condition is not an ordinary one. You must listen to it very carefully
and then give me your answer. It is possible that you might wish to retract
your offer."

He
paled. "Retract? Christ, I know I'm an idiot, Olivia, but I'm not certifiably
insane! If you think—"

"It
is for
you
to think, Freddie, profoundly and seriously," she cried,
pushing him away as he leapt at her. "The reason I accept your offer
is—"

"I
don't give a bloody hoot for the reason!"

"...
purely selfish. In fact, despicably so. First, I have to make it clear to you
that I do not love you."

He
looked relieved. "Oh. Is that all? Well, I already know that! I can hardly
expect someone as perfect, as intelligent, as—"

"No,
that is not all! Freddie, please
listen
—you have no idea how difficult
it is for me to say what I'm trying to." Chastened, he finally took note
of her chalk-faced anxiety and sobered. Olivia pulled in a long, hard breath.
"I am carrying another man's child. I need to marry because I do not wish
it to be born out of wedlock." She removed her eyes from his, dying a
thousand invisible deaths.

This
time Freddie remained still, very still. Even the rolling, protuberant eyes
froze. Then he swallowed. "Another man's child? Ah, whose . . .?"

"That
is not important. What you must understand fully is why I must now acquire a
husband." Crushed by her inner shame, her voice dulled. "You have
been kind enough to offer me your name. I want that name to be shared by my
unfortunate unborn."

Stupefied,
Freddie said nothing as he sat with eyes lowered, grappling with his inadequate
comprehension.

"Having
said all that," Olivia continued doggedly, "I want you to appreciate
that if you now wish to withdraw your offer, I
will not in any way think less
of you, however low you might consider the woman you have mistakenly held in
high enough esteem to want to make your wife." Watching his baffled,
bewildered face, she filled with pity. "I will still regard you always as
the kindest, most decent man I have ever met."

Olivia
wondered anew at her gall, her unspeakable insolence, in matching his mother's
impious proposition with one of her own! What she had dared to suggest in her
search for cheap respectability was an affront to a man and his manhood, even
to one as self-effacing as Freddie. If he now sent her packing, it would be
what she so richly deserved. Perversely, she almost prayed that he would.

But
Freddie did not send her packing. With a supreme effort he pulled himself
together and mopped his brow. "This . . . man, he will not marry
you?"

"No."

"Ah,
why not?" His brow darkened.

"He
has gone away."

"Where?"

"It
doesn't matter. He will not return."

"And
it is this man that you love?" He turned wistful.

"No.
He took me ... by force." The first of the many lies she was to evolve now
for the benefit of this essentially good man had been uttered. She felt no
special stings of remorse. How thick one's skin turns in the pursuit of
self-interest!

Freddie
jumped up with an angry oath, his expression murderous. "Give me the name
of the swine and, by
gad,
I'll horsewhip him within an inch of his
rotten life wherever he skulks!"

Sadly,
Olivia smiled—a mouse aspiring to be a giant killer! "He is not worthy of
your effort, Freddie. But we stray from the point. My question remains
unanswered—are you still prepared to marry me?"

He
gulped again convulsively, his expression aggrieved. "Good God, Olivia,
what do you think I am—one of those bloody weathercocks that swings with the
wind? Of
course
I'm still prepared to marry you!"

"And
declare a child not your own as yours?"

"Yes,
dash it, yes!" He knelt before her to capture her hands and kiss them
frantically. "Do you imagine that I would ever abandon you in this
condition under any circumstances—
do
you?"

Olivia's
throat tightened. Freddie's clear blue eyes, his unquestioning faith in her,
his naive love—all were so guileless,
so childlike. She knew that he had not
yet assimilated the awesome finality of his commitment, nor the potentially
terrible conflicts it might engender in him. Irrationally, she filled with
resentment; why did he not reject her out of hand and force her to thus abandon
this most obscene of options? Impulsively, she reached out to smooth his
thinning, straw-coloured hair, ashamed of her gracelessness. "Think well,
Freddie dear," she said huskily, "would you truly accept me in such
scandalous circumstances?"

"I
would accept you in any circumstances," he said simply. "You see, I
love you . . ."

She
fell silent, hushed by the innate goodness of a man who asked for so little.
There was in his unambiguous nobility a selflessness that reduced her to ashes.
He could not see that she was exploiting him, taking ruthless advantage of his
innocence, using him. Feeling squalid and soiled but helpless in her despair,
Olivia hid her burning face in her shawl. She did not repulse him this time
when he took her in his arms. Instead, she laid her forehead against his
shoulder and wept. "One promise, Freddie, my dear—after my child is born,
if you so wish I will take it and disappear out of your life forever. Your
obligation to me will be over. I want nothing from you or your family."

"You
know that I can never wish that, my darling. My obligations to you and to your
child will be for life. Honour will not allow me to have it any other
way." His arms about her tightened protectively.

Jai
Raventhorne had once complained that her love humbled him. It was now her
destiny to be given a taste of the same medicine by Freddie. How black was the
sense of humour of the divinities!

"No,
Aunt Bridget, your ears have not deceived you," Olivia assured her
incredulous aunt wearily. "I have accepted Freddie's offer of
marriage."

If
there were any rewards to be had for Olivia, they were all contained in her
aunt's joyous face. After the anticipated fury of tears and copious expressions
of gratitude to the Lord for having answered her prayers, Lady Bridget lost no
time in getting down to business.

"Of
course you will wear white. Sateen? No, maybe Chinese
silk with pink
rosettes. Josh's mother was a magpie with lace; there's yards still in the
second store-room." Alive and animated, she grabbed a pencil and settled
down at her bureau, her wrists still bandaged and her skin not yet restored to
its normal hue. "Naturally, a layered petticoat with a band of blue ribbon.
We'll have to order a veil, a long one. I like regal trains, don't you? Now,
what was it that Jane Watkins said about . . .?"

Too
sick at heart to interrupt, Olivia allowed her aunt her say for a moment or
two, then added as gently as she could bring herself to, "We both want a
private ceremony, Aunt Bridget. You are not fully recovered and a grand affair
will tax your strength. Besides, people will ask questions about Estelle
..." Lady Bridget stilled and Olivia pressed on. "In any case, there is
now no time for lavish arrangements at St. John's or elsewhere. We plan to be
married next week."

"Next
w—?" Words failed Lady Bridget and her eyes dilated. But reminded of the
harsh realities prevailing, her face fell.

"The
longer the notice, the more time to ask questions. You will have callers
pouring in, cats with their claws unsheathed and waiting to scratch. Do you
have the confidence to field taunts from any of them about Estelle's
absence?" If she sounded heartless, it was deliberately so; to stem her
aunt's enthusiasm might be cruel but it was also necessary.

Lady
Bridget slumped back in her chair, the tears again starting to roll down her
cheeks. "But I wanted to give you a memorable wedding-day, one that you
would never forget," she whispered. "It is the least that is owed to
you."

Olivia
smiled. "Whatever the arrangements, for me my wedding-day will be
memorable, one I am not likely ever to forget. That much I promise."

If
Lady Bridget heard the bitterness in her niece's tone, she did not recognise it
as such. Too euphoric to quibble about details, she dabbed her eyes dry, blew
her nose and raised a beatific smile. "I
told
Josh long ago that
one day you would marry Freddie of your own free will!"

But
if manipulating her aunt had been easy enough for Olivia, the audience with
Lady Birkhurst was an ordeal. "There is no need to worry about
Mother," Freddie had pronounced airily. "Whatever has passed between
us will remain our secret." Would it? Olivia had merely smiled and let it
pass.

"A
private wedding
next week?"

Sitting
in the formal Birkhurst drawing-room impaled again by those gimlet eyes that
missed nothing, Olivia stared demurely
at her feet. Freddie, however, bore the
prolonged inspection through the all-seeing lorgnette with unexpected courage.
"Yes, Mother," he said firmly, clearing his throat. "Lady
Bridget's delicate state of health precludes anything more ambitious, and since
that is so, why, ah, wait?" Red faced with effort, he inserted a finger in
his collar and loosened it.

"I
...
see." The lorgnette swung around in Olivia's direction. "Whether
these are my son's wishes or not, I take it that they are certainly
yours?" How subtly she had made her point!

"Yes,
they are, Lady Birkhurst."

Behind
her veneer of radiant happiness and serene composure, Olivia shivered a little.
However controlled Lady Birkhurst's reaction, she knew that under those tight
little white curls was a shrewd brain churning away like a paddleboat wheel. No
doubt the questions being tossed about in the whirlpools would be made known to
her in the not too distant future, and she would have to supply the answers. It
was not a confrontation Olivia considered with any enthusiasm.

Lady
Birkhurst thoughtfully sucked on a jujube. "And how is Lady Bridget's
mysterious tropical fever? I would have called had not Millie Humphries warned
me of her husband's ban on visitors."

"My
aunt is much better now, thank you," Olivia replied, grateful to be on
relatively safer ground, although this too was not without pitfalls since
rumours about Lady Bridget's attempt at suicide might well be about by now.
"In fact she is well enough to formally call on you in a day or two in
order to finalise . . . arrangements."
Finalise
—how sinister was
the ring to that word!

"And
your cousin Estelle, I understand, is en route to England?"

"Yes."

Whether
privy to town gossip or not, Lady Birkhurst made no further mention of either
Lady Bridget or her daughter. "Well, you may inform your aunt that I look
forward to receiving her. I am relieved that she is once more on her feet. And
Freddie, I presume, will soon seek an audience with Sir Joshua to ask for his
formal permission?" As usual, she referred to her son in the third person.