Jake Howard's Wife

Helen bent her head, stroking the rim of her glass with an absent finger. ‘I suppose so,’ she conceded quietly.

Giles tucked an arm through each of theirs. ‘I should care,’ he remarked smilingly. ‘At least he's left me with the two most attractive women in the room!'

Helen smiled, and Jennifer gave him a bored wrinkle of her nose. ‘But what are we expected to do, darling? I mean—don't you know anyone of interest?'

Giles frowned and looked about him with concentrated attention. ‘Well, I know President Lbari, over there with his wife. He was at Cambridge with me. His wife's a sweet girl. Used to be a nurse, I believe.'

Jennifer looked bored. ‘Who is that man who is staring at us? That middle-aged man, over there. Do you know him?'

Giles flicked his gaze round. ‘Oh, you mean Bertie Mallard. Yes,’ he nodded his head in acknowledgement of the other man's raised hand. ‘He's Lord Mallard, actually. You've heard me mention him, I'm sure, Jennifer. He's quite an expert on old furniture.'

Jennifer raised her eyes skyward. ‘Heavens!’ she remarked dryly. ‘The excitement of that statement! Don't any interesting people come to these receptions, any young people?'

‘Of course.’ Giles finished his champagne. ‘Come along. We'll wander round. You never know who we may come up with!'

Helen had, perforce, to accompany them, but deep inside she felt frustrated. Jennifer was right. Jake was the absolute limit. Why did he bring her to these affairs if he intended to abandon her?

They wandered round for fully an hour without coming upon Jake and Helen was accepting her fourth glass of champagne when a lazy hand trailed down her arm and she swung round to confront Keith Mannering.

‘Keith!’ she exclaimed, in surprise. ‘What are you doing here?'

Jennifer and Giles turned too. Giles knew Keith quite well and they greeted one another with casual ease. But Jennifer gave him an extravagant smile.

‘Keith darling!’ she cried in her usual effusive manner. ‘How marvellous to see you! I'm sure Helen's delighted, too. Her husband has deserted her and we're all feeling rather sorry for ourselves, aren't we, my pet?'

Helen gave Jennifer a hard stare. The very last thing she wanted was for Keith Mannering to get the wrong idea. She liked him, they were friends, but that was as far as it went.

Not that Keith wasn't a very personable young man; he was. A little older than Helen, tall and slim and boyish, with smooth fair hair falling in a wave across his forehead, he had caused a flutter in several feminine hearts, and Helen was not unaware of this.

Now he smiled into Helen's eyes, and said: ‘Actually I did come to see Helen, Jennifer. I managed to get tickets for that Mahler concert you wanted to hear and I wondered if we could arrange something.'

Helen made an expressive gesture. ‘Oh! Oh, I see. I'm afraid I don't know, Keith. I mean—when we discussed the concert, Jake was still in the States. Now—well—he's home and it's rather awkward.'

Jennifer had listened to Helen's excuses impatiently, and now she exclaimed: ‘Heavens, Helen, do you think Jake would consider you if there was somewhere he wanted to go? For goodness’ sake, he's not your keeper. Make a stand! Be independent! Have your own friends. He has his!'

Helen pressed her lips together. She knew Jennifer was right again. Witness this evening, for example; she hadn't seen him since their arrival. It had been left to Giles to entertain her.

‘I don't know, Keith—’ she was beginning when she saw him stiffen sharply and glancing round she saw her husband approaching them with a purposeful stride. He had the satisfied expression of the cat who has just stolen the cream, but his eyes hardened as they alighted on Keith Mannering, and ironic speculation took the place of complacency.

‘Well, well,’ he remarked casually, as he joined them, sliding possessive fingers round the soft flesh of Helen's upper arm, which Helen immediately resented. ‘It's Mannering, isn't it? What's a clean-living young lawyer like you doing in a place like this?'

The insolence was evident in his tone even though what he said was not in itself insulting. But as Keith was not so tall as Jake or so broad, he was immediately at a disadvantage. However, Helen had to admire the way he straightened his shoulders and replied, quite calmly:

‘Actually, Howard, I'm here to see your wife. I've got tickets for a concert she particularly wanted to attend.'

Helen's eyes flashed from Keith's flushed young countenance to the cool, dark features of her husband. It was apparent from the cruel tightening of the hard fingers against her arm that Keith's instant explanation had surprised Jake, but he was never disconcerted for long.

‘I see,’ he said now, accepting a cigarette from Giles, who had obviously chosen this moment to offer it in an effort to avoid the possible confrontation that was to follow. ‘And why should you imagine I might not be taking my wife to this concert myself if she particularly wants to go?'

Keith hesitated. ‘I understand from Helen that classical music leaves you cold, Howard,’ he stated distinctly, causing Jennifer to expel the breath she had been holding on a faint gasp.

‘My wife says that, does she?’ Jake bent his head and lit his cigarette from Giles’ hastily proffered lighter, and went on: ‘You must tell me what else my wife says, Mannering. I'd be interested to hear her assessment of my musical appreciation—'

‘Jake, please!’ Helen looked up at him imploringly.

‘Please what?’ Jake regarded her coldly.

‘Please don't cause a scene!’ quietly. ‘I've—I've already told Keith I can't accept his invitation.'

‘Why?’ Jake's eyes were distant. ‘Have I forbidden you to do so?'

‘No!’ Helen looked round almost desperately. ‘Jake, I don't want to go.’ She twisted her evening bag between her fingers, aware of Jennifer's calculating gaze and of Giles’ more compassionate one. Keith himself was looking rather uncomfortable now and she guessed he was regretting creating this situation, but then he had not known Jake would react as he had. He didn't know him like Giles did, like she did!

‘But I insist,’ Jake was saying immovably. ‘After all, if your—if Mannering has gone to the trouble to get tickets, then it's the least you can do. When is this concert, by the way, Mannering?'

Keith thrust his hands into his trousers’ pockets rather jerkily. ‘On Thursday week,’ he replied tautly. ‘The twenty-third!'

Jake frowned. ‘The twenty-third? Ah, yes, I remember now. There's a conference in Paris on the twenty-fourth, so I shall probably be away that evening. I'm sure Helen will be glad of your escort.'

Helen glared at him furiously, hating him for arranging her life for her so carelessly. Why was he doing it? He hadn't liked it when he found she was out with Keith the night he returned from his trip to the States, so why was he pushing her into his company now? It didn't make sense.

Jennifer heaved a rather regretful sigh then, and Giles looked slightly relieved at the peaceful outcome of the exchange. He suggested that they made a move towards the buffet tables and Keith took the opportunity to excuse himself with a casual comment to Helen that he would phone her later.

After he had gone an uneasy silence fell on the group and even when Helen was confronted with the mouth–watering array of food that had been provided she found it difficult to find any appetite. She was intensely conscious of Jake's displeasure, as they all were, and regardless of whether he had chosen to take the initiative in pushing his wife into Mannering's company or otherwise, his ill-humour was patently evident. He assumed a brooding silence, answering only in monosyllables if he was spoken to, and generally creating a tense atmosphere about them. Helen was glad when the Ambassador himself came to speak to them and Jake became more relaxed and talkative in his presence. But then Jake was always pleasant to business acquaintances and from his attitude Helen would have guessed that the Ambassador was making things easy for him by co-operating in whatever scheme he had in mind.

Eventually they left the reception rather earlier than planned, and Jake chose to take a taxi home rather than call out his chauffeur. Helen sat stiffly in her corner of the cab dreading the moment when they would arrive home and she would be alone with her husband.

Mrs Latimer had already gone down to her own apartment when they reached the house and Jake rang down to let Latimer know that he would not be needed any more that evening, while Helen walked nervously into the lounge.

In the subdued lighting everywhere looked warm and comfortable, and Mrs Latimer had left some sandwiches and a chicken salad on an occasional table near the couch in case they were hungry when they got back.

Helen shed her stole and bent to switch on the coffee percolater. These ordinary arrangements, these ordinary tasks, diverted her attention from the slightly ominous atmosphere that Jake was deliberately creating and she stood for a moment schooling herself to remain calm. After all, she had done nothing wrong, nothing to be ashamed of, so why did she feel the guilty party?

Jake came through from making the telephone call, raking a hand through the thickness of his dark hair. He had loosened the jacket of his suit and looked disturbingly handsome. Helen seated herself with apparent coolness on the couch and looking up, said:

‘Do you want some coffee?'

Jake shook his head abruptly, walking across to the cabinet and pouring himself a Scotch. Helen glanced round surreptitiously, but he had his back to her, and suppressing a sigh she poured herself some black coffee, adding only a little sugar before raising the cup to her lips. She had had several champagne cocktails that evening and the strong aromatic liquid was reviving. But she was still on edge, she couldn't deny it, and she tried to calm herself by mentally reassuring herself that she was a match for any ignorant Yorkshireman any day.

But the trouble was, Jake was not ignorant, and she knew it, and having seen the way he could verbally annihilate his business associates she doubted her ability to better that ruthless streak in him should the need arise. The only person who seemed to hold any influence with Jake was a couple of hundred miles away in Selby, and Helen had no desire to appeal to her mother-in-law, who she was quite aware despised both her and her way of life.

Now Helen poured herself a second cup of coffee and Jake moved away from the cocktail cabinet to come and stand before the fireplace. Her fingers trembled as she dropped a lump of sugar into the coffee and she stirred it unnecessarily hard before placing the spoon in her saucer. She was avoiding looking at him. She was afraid of the penetration of those dark eyes, and she had no intention of allowing him to see that he could disturb her in this way. Until now she had coped quite adequately with the situation, but up till now, she reminded herself wryly, she had complied with his every request and had certainly never given him any cause to regard her as anything more than the woman he kept at his London house as a hostess when he entertained there. The fact that she wore his ring meant nothing more than lip-service paid to the social system of the country.

She cupped the fragile china container in her hands and inhaled the aroma of freshly ground coffee. By asserting her right to accept the friendship of another man she had unwittingly destroyed the barriers she had purposely erected as part of their marital structure.

Jake finished his Scotch and she could feel his eyes on her, probing the sensitive skin of her ears.

With admirable composure she replaced the cup in its saucer and rose to her feet, hoping that his silence was to be the only outward sign of his anger. But as she turned, he said harshly: