Lucy Gordon - A Convenient Wedding

‘It seems a shame to waste it after all the work you put in,’ Jarvis observed.

‘Waste it?’ Benedict was scandalised. ‘It’s my masterpiece. It’ll crown my first show in the new premises.’

‘Well, get to work or there won’t be any new show,’ Meryl commanded.

‘There’s a lot of formalities-’

‘I know, I know. I’ve told you I’ll make a flying visit as soon as you’ve found somewhere, and we’ll sign the lease, hire the staff and I’ll stick my nose in until I drive you crazy.’

‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ Benedict said mournfully. ‘Darling, it will be a flying visit, won’t it? Flying, as in-you’ll only stay five minutes?’

‘I’ll send you flying into the water in a moment,’ Meryl observed.

‘Does this take much longer, or shall we just wait for the tide to go out?’ Ferdy asked of nobody in particular.

‘Coming,’ Meryl sang out. Benedict and Ferdy helped her into the boat. She waved at Jarvis, calling, ‘I’ll back tonight,’ as the boat moved off.

He waved back, uncertain whether to be dismayed that she was going to New York, pleased that Benedict didn’t want her to stay long, or furious because he’d called her darling.

Jarvis had once called Meryl a hothouse flower, and in the world she’d left the seasons were largely artificial. A treadmill took her from Manhattan to Los Angeles in search of parties, and to Paris or Milan in search of fashion, for she didn’t live in Benedict’s creative pocket. But the nearest she came to following nature was when she headed to the Caribbean in winter.

Now she was living in a place where only nature’s calendar counted. April was the month for sowing cereals, the time when a farmer survived or didn’t by the condition of his soil and often by his ability to beg or borrow the money for fertiliser. To Jarvis’s tenants, hanging on grimly after a succession of misfortunes, his marriage had come just in time to enrich the soil for that year’s sowing.

‘If we’d married a few weeks later it might have been too late for them,’ she put to him one day. They’d been riding the countryside on horses hired from Sarah’s stable, and had stopped off to let the beasts drink from a stream.

‘Not might have been, would have been,’ he replied quietly.

‘But you didn’t take enough from me, did you? That man we were with this morning-the one who was showing me the machine for planting potatoes-’

That made Jarvis grin. Farmer Bannion was a machine enthusiast, and there’d been no escape until he’d shown Meryl the special planter that he hitched to his tractor for potatoes, delivering a commentary without pausing for breath.

‘It – makes – the – furrows – so – that – the – rotating – wheel – drops – the – seed -potatoes – in – then – it – turns – the – soil – over – them – otherwise – the – potatoes – go – green – in – the – light. Of course – sometimes – you – want – them – to – have – a – bit – of – light – so – that – they – sprout – early – but – then – you’ve – got – to – be – careful-’

Meryl, trying not to let her eyes glaze, had come away with only one thought.

‘His machine’s on its last legs,’ she told Jarvis now. ‘He needs a new one. You could make him an interest-free loan-’

‘It would be too late now.’

‘Just what I’m saying. You should have married me earlier and insisted on a bigger dowry.’ She nudged him in the ribs. ‘See what you get for being stubborn.’

‘Well, I’m not used to marrying for money,’ he said, nettled. ‘I don’t know how it’s supposed to be done.’

‘You fraud. You swore to Larry that you were a hardened mercenary. The fact is, you’re just a beginner.’

‘I’m not planning to make a career of it.’

She went to the stream where the horses were drinking and splashed some water over her face. He watched her, elegant in her riding habit, her glorious hair out of sight for once. Only last night that hair had streamed over her shoulders and breasts while he kissed her, unseen and unseeing.

Not by so much as a word or a look had she ever hinted at their secret life. By day they faced each other, smiling, fencing, sleekly armoured, each waiting for the other to whisper, I was the one you held in your arms last night.

But so far neither had yielded an inch.

With water in her eyes she fumbled for her handkerchief but couldn’t find it. Grinning, he offered her his own clean one.

‘Thanks.’ She sat down on a rock. ‘We must rethink the whole thing,’ she said thoughtfully.

‘Must we?’ he asked in an expressionless voice.

‘Yes. I’ll put a lump sum on deposit so that you can make them interest-free loans, and-’ She looked up. He was staring out over the water and the sight gave her a little spurt of temper. ‘All right, I put it the wrong way,’ she said irritably. ‘Rephrase it any way you like. I’m tired of dancing on pins just because you’ve got the pride of the devil.’

He was instantly contrite, coming to sit on the rock beside her. ‘I meet your generosity very shabbily, don’t I?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’ She was too disappointed to be diplomatic.

To her surprise he slipped an arm around her shoulder and hugged her. ‘I’m sorry for being such a bear. I don’t really know how to accept kindness.’

Never having received very much, she thought with a sudden sweep of tenderness.

But if he was tongue-tied, so was she. She longed to tell him of the change that was coming over her in this place. Now she could look back and see what a useless life she’d led, veering this way and that with every trashy wind that blew because she’d had no purpose and no one who needed her.

Here there were people who needed her and had no false pride about accepting her help. Accepting her. She was finding a peace she’d never known before, and she longed for the moment when she could tell Jarvis. But that moment wasn’t here or now.

‘We’ll forget it, if it offends you,’ she said.

‘No way,’ he said, as she’d known he would. ‘I can’t deprive them of what they need simply because-well, anyway. I’ll leave you to fix it up.’

He’d yielded, but only halfway. Still, she could hope for better next time.

They returned to their horses. Jarvis was in turmoil. Gratitude for her understanding warred with alarm at the way she’d slid past him again. Deeper in her debt than ever. Bought and paid for. Their brief understanding, which had soothed the wound, now seemed another danger. Bought and paid for twice over.

‘When are you going away?’ he asked suddenly.

‘When-what?’

‘When are you going? This flying visit you’re planning to New York to help Steen set things up. I thought you’d have gone by now.’

‘I don’t have to go yet. It’s not-’

‘Better if you do. I have a farmers’ conference to attend. I’ll be away several days.’

‘I could come with you.’

‘You really wouldn’t like it. Besides, Steen must surely need your help.’

Plainly he wanted to be away from her.

‘I’ll go tomorrow,’ she said.

Benedict met her plane and drove her to her apartment overlooking Central Park. Her housekeeper had got everything in perfect order and the place was warm and welcoming.

‘I’ve found the perfect site,’ Benedict burbled. ‘It’s on Fifth Avenue-’

‘Good,’ Meryl said, trying to sound interested. ‘Is there any news of Amanda?’

‘The wretched creature is playing hard to find. She won’t answer my calls and all I want to do is ask her to reconsider. We could still make a go of it, but she’s switched her mobile off.’

As always when he talked of his wife his genuine sadness touched Meryl’s heart. She invited him in for a drink, and took the first chance to call Jarvis and say she’d arrived safely. But Jarvis had already left for his farmers’ conference, so Meryl left a message and shrugged as she hung up.

Gradually she fell back into her old life, except that now she was in control of her own vast fortune. Somehow it wasn’t as satisfying as she’d thought it would be. She transferred the money she’d promised to Larne for the interest-free loan, but she couldn’t help thinking of the land where the light faded slowly, and the fields were dotted with woolly sheep, and the way she could find serenity just by being there. She should be in Larne this minute, seeing the smiles as hope returned, hope that she’d brought them.

Setting up Benedict’s business was a welcome diversion, but it wasn’t the whole of life, the way it would once have been. After a month she urgently needed more interests, and she contacted Amanda to invite her to lunch.

They’d always been friendly, but seen little of each other. Amanda was a pale, fair young woman whose beauty lay in the expression in her eyes rather than her features. They had a long, friendly talk over lunch, but Amanda wouldn’t budge about Benedict, although she too was unhappy.

‘You two drive me crazy,’ Meryl said. ‘You’re in love, for Pete’s sake!’

‘Sometimes that isn’t enough,’ Amanda said with a faint smile. ‘The person you love the most may be the person you can’t live with.’

‘Yes,’ Meryl murmured. ‘Oh, yes.’

They agreed to meet up again and settled a date. Meryl whipped out her little pen and prepared to scribble on the back of her hand.

‘I can’t get over you doing that,’ Amanda said, smiling.

‘Nor can Jarvis. The first time he saw me do this he nearly-’ She stopped and a horrid, cold wave washed over her. ‘What’s the date?’ she asked faintly.

‘The fifteenth of May. Why?’

‘The fête! It’s tomorrow. I promised I’d be there. I gave my word. Oh, heavens! After all the promises I made. Hurry. It’s a matter of life and death.’

‘Where are we going?’ Amanda asked when they were in the taxi.

‘To get my passport, then the airport.’

‘Can you do it in time?’

‘If I can get a flight tonight, and go there as soon as I land.’

In her apartment Amanda booked the flight while Meryl frantically went through her wardrobe, seeking something outrageous and finally selecting a scarlet trouser suit.

She tried to call Jarvis, but he was away and not expected back that night. Hannah took a message but seemed doubtful about being able to deliver it. ‘He doesn’t call home much,’ she observed. ‘Can’t think why.’

Actually I can, Meryl thought in despair. And can I blame him?

From that bad beginning things got worse. There were delays at the airport, and the threat of a bumpy journey when she did finally get off the ground.

Oh, great! I’m a nervous flyer even when it isn’t bumpy. Plus I’ll get there too late. Plus I’ve done just what he predicted and lived down to all his worst fears, and he’ll never forgive me.

‘THE fête’s going to be spoiled,’ the vicar’s wife sighed. ‘The weather’s cloudy and Lady Larne isn’t coming, after she promised!’

Her husband tried to soothe her. ‘Lord Larne said she was detained by urgent family affairs, but he’s very kindly agreed to take her place. And I believe that just possibly-’ his tone suggested some astounding concession ‘-the Honourable Sarah Ashton will be accompanying him.’

If Mrs Rogers was overwhelmed at the prospect of this treat she managed to conceal it admirably.

People had been arriving for the fête for the last half-hour. Lord Larne was there, smiling but ill at ease. The Honourable Sarah had also deigned to grace them with her presence and walked about, her arm tucked proprietarily into Jarvis’s, like one whose moment had arrived. Ferdy had come to watch the fun.

The vicar sighed and looked up at the dark sky.

‘Well, she’s not going to descend out of the clouds, is she?’ his wife snapped.

‘I suppose not. Let’s get on with the opening.’

The crowd had gathered in front of a small raised platform. The vicar took up his position, looking fixedly cheerful. Jarvis did the same, although he felt far from cheerful. A dead weight seemed to have settled in his chest, making everything an effort. Even now that the moment had arrived he found it hard to believe that Meryl had actually let them all down this way.

Sarah’s compassion had been hard to bear. Without actually saying that she’d always predicted this she showed that she regarded him as an object of pity. Which was to say that he’d been a fool. And so he had. When Sarah had promised to accompany him to the fête he hadn’t wished to hurt his old friend by saying that she was no substitute for Meryl, the woman who’d duped and betrayed him. But no woman was a substitute for her.

How eager he’d been to believe her! How nearly he’d yielded! The reality was bitter, and it was only now that he admitted to himself how deeply he’d longed to be convinced.