Yesterday's Bride (3 page)

Rising from her chair, Clare moved restlessly around the room. "My husband Bob isn't a farmer," she explained. "He's been farming and hating every minute of it since his and Jason's father died two years ago. Bob had just taken a graduate degree from the State University, not in agriculture like Jason, but in engineering. Bob has always wanted to travel and build things. Jason is the elder, he was the one to take over the farm. But when Mr. Randall died, everything was in such confusion that Bob scrapped his plans and stayed to help out. He didn't want to leave Jason alone. But he's discontented at the farm and Jason knows it. So Jason decided that if he got married, he could convince Bob to leave to take up his career without feeling guilty."

Clenching her fists to keep herself from striking out at Clare, Leigh spoke, "I don't know why you're telling me this, Clare, but it simply is not true. Jason has too much integrity to marry for a cold-blooded purpose like that."

Clare answered with conviction. "Yes, Jason has principles, but you know as well as I do that he can be ruthless when something is important to him. He cares about Bob and wants him to be happy." She looked pityingly at Leigh. "I thought you should know."

Leigh was shaking. "I don't believe you," she said. "If Jason wanted Bob to go back to engineering, he could make him do so without resorting to a foolish marriage."

"Very well," Clare said angrily, "you've had an answer to everything I've told you. Go ahead, close your eyes to the truth if you can. Love is blind, they say." She paused deliberately before she made her final charge. "By the way, you won't be going to—where was it?—Venice on your honeymoon. Jason has canceled those plans, if he ever really intended to carry them out. He'll be taking you straight back to the farm today so that Bob and I can leave. Bob has accepted a job in Peru, building a bridge."

Leigh stood up, holding hard to her control. "Please leave this room, Clare. I don't want to hear any more." She felt sick and frightened.

When Clare had gone, Leigh pulled herself together and continued to prepare for her wedding trip, pretending that nothing had happened. She ignored the voice in the back of her head repeating what Clare had said. She dismissed the girl as a troublemaker, one of those people who can't bear to see others happy.

Moments later, Jason tapped lightly at the door and walked into the room. He came to Leigh and kissed her. "Hello, Mrs. Randall."

Leigh smiled, her fears evaporating at the sight of him. "I'm almost ready. Are we running late?"

Jason put an arm around her shoulders. "I wanted to talk to you. Our plans have changed, Leigh. We won't be able to go away as we had planned. I didn't have a chance to tell you before, but something has come up at the farm that necessitates my returning there. As soon as the problem is cleared up, we'll have our honeymoon trip. You won't mind a delay, will you?"

Leigh stood very still, willing herself to behave normally.

She felt betrayed. "As a matter of fact, I do," she finally answered. Her voice seemed to come from somewhere outside the confusion in her head. She pushed away hysteria, trying to think. "Particularly, as I now realize that I am just a pawn in your family's schemes."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Jason demanded. His tone was enraged and Leigh faltered beneath his snapping, dark eyes.

"You always knew," she said slowly, "that we were never going to Venice, or, for that matter, that we were never going beyond your beloved farm. Why did you pretend anything else?"

Her voice faltered as Jason advanced and roughly seized her arm. "You silly little fool!" he said. "I should have known from the beginning that you were not interested in marrying a simple farmer! All you ever cared about was going to parties and flirting with the boys! I should have known better than to have married a society beauty! Especially since I could see for myself that the Judge had spoiled you rotten! The only reason that you married me was because I was a challenge to your childish vanity—and the fact that I was the first man who would not take no for an answer."

Leigh wrenched away her arm, bruised by the encircling fingers of steel. His words seemed to confirm what Clare had told her. She walked over to the bed where her white picture hat lay, the bridal hat that she had donned so happily a few hours earlier. She was silent for a few painful moments, trying to regain her composure. Her quiet, happy childhood with the Judge and Flora had in no way prepared her for this dark, angry man.

Finally, she turned to face him. "If our plans have changed," she spoke quietly, "I guess I had better repack my bags." She bit her lip. "Things appropriate for Venice will hardly do for the farm." Not looking at Jason, she asked, "Would you please find Flora and ask her to help me?"

"Very well," he said curtly. "But don't keep me waiting too long. I am not your indulgent grandfather." He turned on his heel and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

For a moment, Leigh felt nothing. She walked over to the window and stared vacantly out. Then her emotions overcame her and she buried her face in her hands. Why, oh why, had she ever become involved with such a man? He had never loved her but had only needed her to fit into his plans—plans that had nothing to do with her as a person. What she had taken for love had been merely desire—the natural response of an experienced, virile man to the all too eager response of a young and innocent girl.

There was a gentle knock on the door. "Miss Leigh, did you call me? Mr. Randall said you needed help."

It was Flora. Leigh stumbled blindly up to her and flung her arms around her.

"Why, Miss Leigh! What can be the matter? And on your wedding day, too!" She embraced the trembling, crying girl.

Grasping Flora's arm like a lifeline, Leigh spoke, blind panic edging into her voice. "Don't ask any questions, just listen. This marriage was a terrible mistake and I can't go through with it. I'm leaving. Tell the Judge not to worry and that I'll call him."

Shock froze on the housekeeper's face. "Miss Leigh, you can't. What about Mr. Randall, the guests downstairs?"

Going to her night table, Leigh rummaged in a drawer to find a pen and paper. "Mr. Randall will arrange matters to suit himself," she said bitterly, "just as he always has. I'll leave him this note telling him that the marriage was a mistake and that I'm going away. He can do what he wants about it." She folded the paper and placed it in an envelope, adding her wide gold wedding band and the diamond engagement ring. As she handed it to Flora she begged, "Go and check the hall for me. See if the coast is clear."

Flora stood her ground, prepared to argue. "You can't do this, Miss Leigh. I won't let you. You weren't brought up to sneak away like a thief in the night. You stay here and face it, whatever it is."

"I can't, Flora, not this time."

Leigh gripped Flora's arms and shook her gently. "Please, if you care about me, help me now. Jason doesn't love me, he married me for another reason. Please help me." Leigh's voice broke. Her control was slipping and she knew that she had to get out of the house and fast.

Flora gave in reluctantly. "I just hope you know what you're doing."

Assured by the housekeeper that no one was near the hallway, Leigh picked up her purse and darted down the stairs and out the front door. Outside, the taxi she had called was waiting and she was on her way.

Afterwards Leigh was never quite sure how she got through the rest of that day. Although her emotions were completely numb, her mind was functioning clearly. She went to the airport and took the first available flight for New York City. There she taxied from LaGuardia Airport to the first decent-looking hotel that she saw. When she at last reached the haven of an anonymous hotel room, she went completely to pieces. She locked the door and stayed in the room for two days, sick with misery, alternately sobbing and cursing Jason. Finally it was the anger against him that got her on her feet. The pain was as fierce and strong as ever, but the anger was stronger.

She got a job. It wasn't much of a job, selling cosmetics in a Fifth Avenue department store, but then she wasn't trained for anything. When she called him, the Judge asked her to come home but he understood her pride and determination to stand on her own two feet.

Leigh was lucky. One day, up to her perfume counter stepped Gretta Dunn, the older sister of one of Leigh's school friends. Gretta had been in New York for about a year, working as a secretary for a firm of public relations agents. Right away she took Leigh under her wing. She soon had her moved out of the hotel where she was living and into Gretta's own apartment; two Southern girls on their own in the big city had to stick together she maintained. Then she set about convincing Leigh that with her coloring and grace she was a natural to model. "You're willowy and tall," Gretta urged, "just the right combination."

Almost without realizing how it happened, Leigh found herself with a career. Gretta got her started with introductions to the right people in advertising, people Gretta knew from her office, so Leigh didn't have to pound the pavements as much as other prospective models. But she worked hard; it helped to lessen the agony she felt. Within a year she was established, her photographs appearing in all the right places. It always disconcerted her to pick up a glossy fashion magazine and see her own face staring back from its cover.

In time the pain and disillusionment of her disastrous marriage faded to a dull ache. It was almost as if it had never happened. She was busy and no one around her knew anything about her past. On his occasional visits to New York the Judge never referred to her marriage. But Leigh didn't forget.

There were men in her life, of course. She was too beautiful for there not to be. She had dozens of men friends, and she went out frequently and had a good time. But there was no one she couldn't walk away from without a backward glance. When a relationship seemed to be getting serious, Leigh easily broke it off. She was the one in control, and she had no intention of becoming emotionally involved with anyone. She was aloof, cool and untouchable, and nothing could shake her. However, Leigh knew what no one else could even suspect, that deep inside she was terrified of being hurt again. She had a scar that would never fade and she hated Jason for inflicting it. But she had grown up. She was no longer the Judge's little granddaughter. She was a beautiful woman.

"I'll get it," Leigh called out as the doorbell chimed. She paused to glance at herself in the mirror. Her reflection looked back at her, calm and assured. The simple black jersey dress she was wearing made her hair, falling straight to her shoulders from a center part, seem even more silvery by contrast. Leigh touched the strand of milky pearls at her throat, thinking sadly of the Judge who had given them to her on her eighteenth birthday.

She hurried down the stairs and opened the door. Jason stood there, tall, broad-shouldered and completely formidable in a well-tailored navy suit. After greeting him she led the way to the study and motioned him to a chair.

"May I get you some coffee or a drink?" she offered.

Jason remained standing, his face impassive. "Whiskey, please, if you have it."