A Paper Marriage (6 page)

Jonah leaned back, studying her as if he liked what he saw. `Perhaps I can come up with something,' he remarked.

It was her turn to stare at him. 'You'll-think of something?' she queried eagerly.

He afforded her a pleasant look. `Leave it with me.'

Leave it with him? That was much too vague! She'd been fretting about it all over the weekend. She needed this sorted out now. `You've no idea now?"

'I'll need to think about it.'

`When will you let me know?' The sooner they had matters arranged, the sooner she could make future plans-perhaps she could find work on her time off. Anything extra would be welcome, the sooner to pay off that colossal debt. `If you could tell me this week some time?' she hinted. `I'd-'

`Let's see,' he cut in pleasantly. `Today's Monday-I should have some idea by, say, Saturday.'

`You'll tell me on Saturday?' she asked urgently. Then remembered, and cried, 'Oh I'll be at Oliver's wedding on Saturday!'

That smile she didn't trust a bit was in evidence again. 'I'll see you there,' he informed her.

`You're going to... ?You've had an invitation?" 'I'm sure you'll remedy that oversight,' Jonah Marriott answered coolly.

Lydie stared at him in disbelief. `You want to go to Oliver's wedding?' Why, for goodness' sake, would he want to do that? There was only one way to find out. `Why do you want to attend?' she questioned suspiciously.

`I like weddings,' he replied without a blink. `Provided they're someone else's.'

Lydie eyed him hostilely. Why would he want to gatecrash her brother's wedding? She thought of her beloved father, in his own private hell, and her eyes widened. `You wouldn't embarrass my father?'

Jonah's smile abruptly disappeared. `I have the greatest respect for your father,' he told her sternly.

She thought she could believe him. But, even so. 'I'd better sign something to the effect that it is I who owe you that money,' she suggested.

Jonah's harsh manner departed. `I think I can trust you, Lydie,' he said evenly.

She had previously believed she could trust him-and had been set up for her pains. `It isn't for you. It's for me,' she told him bluntly.

He looked back at her, his chin thrusting just that aggressive fraction forward. `You don't trust me?' he said coldly. `You think, after the discussion we've just had, that I'll forget everything we've said, and that I'll send the debt collectors after your father?' Stubbornly she refused to back down. Silently a pair of obstinate clear green eyes stared into a pair of cold blue eyes. Then Jonah Marriott opened a drawer and drew out a sheet of paper. He dropped the paper down in front of her and without another word uncapped his pen and handed it to her. He hates me, she thought, but was unshakeable in her resolve. That cheque had been made out to her father. She took the pen from Jonah and after a moment's thought wrote.

I, Lydie Pearson, in respect of the fifty-five thousand pounds borrowed from Jonah Marriott and paid into the bank account of Wilmot Pearson, hereby agree that the repayment of that fifty-five thousand pounds is my debt alone.

She read through what she had written and, while she felt lawyers might phrase it a little differently, she believed it said what she wanted it to say: that the debt was nothing to do with her father. Before she signed it, and purely as a courtesy, she turned the paper round so Jonah should read what she had penned.

It did not take him long. Though, when she would have taken the paper back and signed it, he took the pen from her hand and in his strong writing added something. Then, as she had, he turned it round for inspection. `The fifty-five thousand pounds to be repaid at the direction and discretion of Jonah Marriott,' she read.

Lydie was not very sure of the ground she was on here, but, having stubbornly held out to have something in writing, she did not think she could start nit-picking about any wording now.

Without looking at him, she took the pen from him and signed her name at the bottom, and then added the date. She handed both pen and paper back to him, and watched while he recapped his pen and stood up. He was a busy man; her appointment with him was over.

`I take it you'd like a copy?' he queried.

Since the idea of that piece of paper absolving her father of the debt was her idea, she didn't know how Jonah could ask. In fact, she thought the original should be hers.

She stood up, chin tilted. `Please,' she answered shortly.

He smiled that smile she was beginning to hate. `I shall look forward to Saturday,' he said.

With that she had to be content. She would see him on Saturday-now how was she going to wangle him an invitation? And what possible excuse could she use for wanting him there? And what, in creation, was she going to tell her father?

LYDIE thought and thought all the way home. But she still had not worked out what to tell her father when she was heading up the drive of Beamhurst Court. She wanted to stick as close to the truth as possible, but doubted that her father would be impressed that his near to penniless daughter had claimed his debt as hers. He just would not stand for that.

The first person Lydie met on going indoors was her mother. Oh, grief. Her mother had not seemed very friendly towards Jonah Marriott when she had spoken of him. Lydie just knew she was going to ask quite a few vitriolic questions when Lydie said she wanted him to be invited to Oliver's wedding.

But there was a smile on her mother's face. `Oliver's home,' she beamed, Oliver was home; all was right with the world. `Did you leave your shopping in your car?' Shopping? `Your father said you were going in to London to...'

`Oh, I couldn't see anything I liked.' Heavens, was there no end to the lies she had to tell?

`Nothing?' Her mother looked askance. `In the whole of London?"

'You know how it is,' Lydie began uncomfortably, but was saved further perjury when Wilmot Pearson emerged from his study. Saved, that was, of lying further-to her mother.

`I'll go and see Mrs. Ross about this evening's meal,' Hilary Pearson declared, and Lydie knew that whatever they had been going to have was about to be changed to something Oliver was particularly partial to. In normal times she and her father might have exchanged wry smiles. But these were not normal times, and there was not a smile about either of them as her mother went to see their housekeeper and her father held his study door open- indicating that Lydie join him in there.

He was not interested in how she had fared on her shopping expedition, but as soon as they were in his study and he had closed the door he at once asked, `When do we see Jonah?"

'We don't,' Lydie answered, but added hurriedly as her father's brow creased, `I was lucky. I managed to see Jonah today.'

'You've s-'

`He was able to spare me a few minutes out of his busy day.'

`You told him that I wanted to see him?'

`Of course.' She was glad she hadn't had to lie about that.

`So you've made an appointment for me to...' `Well, not exactly.' Her father was starting to look exasperated with her, and Lydie hurried on.

`He said you mustn't worry.'

`Not worry!' Wilmot Pearson stared incredulously at her, and Lydie rushed in again.

`He said to forget about the money.' What was one more lie?

`Forget it?' her father echoed, and, his pride to the fore, `That I will not!' he stated vehemently. `Oh, Dad, please don't...' she said helplessly.

And at her totally wretched tone he calmed down to stare at her. `What... ?' he began. She wriggled, mentally writhed, and knew she should have stayed away from the house until she had some convincing lie worked out. Though, the way things were, she felt it would be some time next week before she could come up with anything halfway convincing to relieve her father of his worry. `Spit it out, Lydie love,' he coaxed, when she was still stumped.

`It's-difficult,' she said after a struggle.

`What is? I owe Jonah Marriott money and have to see him to discuss it. What's difficult about that?"

'That's just it! I don't want you to see him.'

Wilmot Pearson was a fair and just man. And, in respect of his two offspring, indulgent, and prepared to do everything he could for their health and happiness. Which was perhaps why he tempered what was obvious to him-that, regardless of what his daughter wanted, he and his pride demanded he meet with the man to whom he was in debt-and asked, `Why don't you want me to see him, Lydie?' Oh, help. She racked her brain, but no good reason would come through. `Why is it difficult?' he persisted.

'It's-difficult for me.'

`What's difficult for you?' he asked with what she thought was a father's admirable patience.

'Don't-er-don't make things difficult for me, Dad,' she said at last.

`For you?' he took up. `Difficult for you? How?' he questioned. She could feel herself going pink, but it was more from feeling awkward and inadequate that she had no answer for him than anything else. But her father spotted her high colour and, having already noted that she seemed embarrassed to be having this conversation,

`Good Lord!' he exclaimed. `You're blushing!' And, plainly looking for reasons for her blush,

'Surely-you haven't-fallen for him?' he pondered.

And suddenly, her brain racing, Lydie was ready to grasp at any straw her father gave her. 'Is-is that so astonishing?' she asked, hoping, when she couldn't meet her father's eyes, that he would think her shy of discussing this topic with him.

He thought about it. `Well, I suppose not,' he to her surprise decided. `You had a giant-sized crush on him when you were a teenager...'

`You knew about that?' she asked, astounded, at last able to meet his eyes. But, looking quickly away, she assured him, `It isn't a crush this time, Dad.'

`Oh, baby,' he said, his own problems for the moment forgotten. `But you hardly know him! Apart from seven years ago, you've only seen him twice recently.'

`Three times, actually. I saw him at the theatre on Saturday.'

`You went to the theatre with him?' he questioned. `On Saturday, when you knew I wanted to see-'

`It wasn't like that,' she interrupted hurriedly. She didn't want her parent pursuing that track, but hoped he would think her reserve of old had reared its head, causing her to be unable to tell him anything about it either yesterday when she'd come home or at breakfast that morning. `But anyhow,' she plunged on, grabbing at the fact that her father had taken one look at her mother and that had been that for him, `how many times did you have to see Mother before you knew it was the real thing?'

With relief, Lydie saw her father had taken everything she said as gospel. They were away from the subject of that money anyway, and she guessed from his expression that he was recalling that his dear Hilary had not returned the compliment and fallen in love with him at first sight. She had taken some wooing, from what Great-aunt Alice had told her.

`And how does Jonah feel about you?' her father asked with a father's natural concern.

`I-it's too early to say,' she answered, winging it, playing it by ear-desperately glad Jonah Marriott wasn't a fly on the wall, listening to all of this. `B-but he wanted to take me to dinner this coming Saturday.'

`He asked you for another date?' Lydie could feel herself colouring up that she had allowed her father to believe she had dated Jonah last Saturday. `You didn't come home on Saturday night!' her parent remembered, looking a little shaken. And, while colour scorched her cheeks at that implication, she was thankful for once that hostilities were still prevailing between her parents, otherwise her mother would have told her father that their youngest was having a sleepover at her friend Charlie's.

`I had to tell Jonah that I couldn't have dinner with him because I'm unsure what time Oliver's wedding celebrations will go on until,' Lydie said in an embarrassed rush. 'Er-Jonah asked if he could-er-come to the wedding too.'

Her father looked at her solemnly for a second or two, and then he smiled. `Well, that sounds as if he's keen enough,' he declared encouragingly. Lydie smiled faintly, very much confused that, purely in her father's interests, she had been able to make up this fantasy. 'You'd better ask your brother to see he gets an invitation.'

Lydie stared at her father. Agreed, she had been in very much of a lather, but it had been that easy? She was staggered. Well, that part of it had gone better than she had anticipated, but, `And you won't say anything to Jonah? At the wedding, I mean. About the money?"

'It would hardly be appropriate,' he admitted. `But you must see, Lydie, that I shall have to discuss it with him some time.'

She supposed she had known that. Her father was an honourable man. `But not now, not until some other time. I think he's away this week,' she lied on the spur of the moment. `Some conference or other. Abroad somewhere.'

`It will have to wait until next week, then,' her father agreed. But, looking at him, Lydie thought that although he was obviously still very much burdened, he suddenly did not seem to appear so hunched over as he had.

It was good to have Oliver home. He was a bit muddle-headed sometimes, but loveable-either because of or despite that. `Lydie !' he exclaimed when she and her father left the study and went into the drawing room. `How's life?' he asked, coming over and giving her a hug.

`Can't complain.' She grinned. `Looking forward to Saturday?'

`To tell you the truth, I'll be glad when it's all over and Madeline and I can go off and be by ourselves. Such a fuss! I tell you, if it were left to me we'd just nip into a registry office somewhere and do the deed-but Mrs. Ward-Watson will have none of it.'

`Of course she won't,' his mother chipped in. `These things have to be done properly, Oliver. The Ward-Watsons can't have their only daughter sneaking off somewhere as if they've got something to hide.'

Oliver, it appeared, had endured more than one lecture on the subject and did not fancy another, even if it was from his adoring mother. `Any sign of you trotting up the aisle yet, Lydie?' he asked, more to take the limelight away from himself than anything.

About to say no, that she was more interested in children than grown men, Lydie just then caught her father's glance on her. `I...' she said, and faltered.

`You've gone red!' Oliver teased.

`Leave her be,' her father cut in. But, instead of making things better for her, succeeded in making her want to fall through the floorboards when he added, `Though there is someone you could invite to your wedding.' Oliver looked at him, interested; her mother looked at him questioningly. `Lydie's just started seeing Jonah Marriott. It would be a kindness if Mr and Mrs Ward-Watson sent him a wedding invitation.'

Oh, mercy! Lydie glanced to her mother, who was looking at her in total disbelief. `How long's this been going on?' she asked skeptically.

'Lydie went to the theatre with him on Saturday,' Wilmot Pearson answered for her.

`I thought you went with Charlie somebody-or other?' Hilary Pearson challenged her daughter.

'I-er-didn't think you-um-cared for Jonah,' Lydie answered, making out she had been lying then about her theatre date with Charlie, but pink with embarrassment that she was lying now. `What have you got against Jonah Marriott, Mother?' Oliver chipped in.

'I'm going for a walk,' Lydie said-cowardly, but it saved her telling a whole load more lies even if she did seem to be getting rather good at it.

Oliver, who was not seeing his fianc�e that evening, seemed to spend most of his time on the telephone to her, but he made it to the table at dinnertime and seemed quite blissful.

Lydie was glad he was there. Her mother could not help that he was her favourite and Lydie was perfectly happy that it was so. Particularly that evening when, her mother finding yet more matters to quiz him over, it rather took any inquisitive questions away from Lydie herself.

`Jonah should get his invitation in the post tomorrow, by the way,' Oliver informed her at one point. `You were still out walking when Madeline rang, but Dad was able to give me his address.'

`Oh, thanks,' she mumbled, glad her father had been able to find Jonah's address. She hadn't a clue where he lived.

Oliver and her parents were going to stay overnight in a hotel near his bride's home on Friday. This so they should not have far to travel the next day. The wedding was not taking place until the afternoon, so Lydie would have plenty of time in which to go and collect her great-aunt Alice. But there were days to be got through before Friday.

Uncomfortable with lies, but seemed called upon to tell them at every turn, Lydie wanted to keep as much out of her parents' way as possible. Which was why, on Tuesday, she did take herself off shopping for a wedding outfit. She had some very nice outfits in her wardrobe, several of which would have been suitable, and she fretted for an absolute age about spending money she should give to Jonah Marriott. Then she decided that what she would spend would be a drop in the ocean compared with what she owed him. And somehow-and she was sure it had more to do with keeping out of her parents' way than the fact that Jonah would be a guest at the wedding-it seemed a good idea to shop for something new.

She returned to the home she so loved with several large glossy carriers. `You really have been to town,' her mother quipped when she went in, and was as delighted as Lydie had been at the lovely deep coral suit and its accessories she had purchased.

Oliver was unable to keep away from Madeline the next day, and left early and came home late.

But he declared on Thursday that Mrs. WardWatson had said they could cope very nicely without his assistance from then on-and Madeline, it seemed, had a hundred and ten things she must attend to before the `big day'.

`Which leaves me having to ask my little sister to come and have a drink with me down at the Black Bull.'

`Since you ask so charmingly,' she accepted. Oliver's present friends were scattered around the country, apparently, but since some of them were converging on the same hotel tomorrow he was having his stag `do' then-with strict instructions not to get up to anything too outrageous.

`Have you and Madeline decided where to live yet?' Lydie asked when sitting in the Bull with a gin and tonic. Oliver took a swig of his pint.

`Didn't Mother tell you?' He laughed sunnily at the thought that that must be a first. 'Madeline and I are having a place built in the grounds of her parents' home.' `Will you like that?' Lydie queried slowly, her feelings more and more for her brother, whose life seemed to be being taken over by the WardWatsons.

`You bet your life I will,' he declared stoutly. And, misinterpreting her entirely, 'I'd much rather have something new and up to date.'