The Rich Man's Bride

The doorbell rang while she was watching the ten o’clock news. She smiled fondly. Her father hadn’t been able to resist checking up on her after all. To reassure him that she was security conscious, she kept the new safety chain on as she opened the door, but her smile vanished as unmistakable blue eyes looked down at her through the aperture. The Squire, it seemed, had honoured his tenant with a visit.

‘May I come in, Anna?’ said Ryder Wyndham.

Her first instinct was a flat refusal for several reasons, not least because she was wearing the famous slippers and her face probably looked as grey as her sweater now her make-up had worn off. On the other hand, she needed a favour.

‘I won’t keep you long,’ he added.

Anna unhooked the chain and opened the door. ‘Come in, then.’

Her visitor followed her into the parlour, his hair, longer again now, almost brushing the beams. Anna waved him to a sofa and took the one opposite, wondering, not for the first time, if some gypsy blood had once nourished the Wyndham family tree. In his teens Ryder had traded on the look, sporting wild black ringlets and a gold earring that went well with slanting cheekbones and eyes surrounded by lashes that were still thick as flue-brushes, she thought resentfully. At the moment the eyes were surveying her with unnerving concentration.

‘In the churchyard today that knot of hair shone like a beacon among all the mourning black,’ he said at last, surprising her. ‘But worn like that you look about fifteen.’

‘Such a good thing for a woman to hear when she’s more than twice that age,’ said Anna, her tone as sweet and cold as the lemon sorbet she was partial to.

‘I know exactly how old you are.’

Her eyes glittered coldly. ‘You’ve told me that before.’

‘I called in at the Red Lion,’ Ryder said after an awkward silence. ‘Tom told me you came straight back here, too tired to stay there for dinner.’

‘It’s been a tiring sort of day.’

‘And you’ve been ill.’

She shrugged. ‘Something I’ll do my utmost to avoid in future. It worried my family and interfered with my job.’

The striking eyes remained steady on her face. ‘Are you still with the same firm of chartered accountants?’

She nodded. ‘Yes. I hope to make partner soon.’

‘So I heard. Your grandfather was very proud of your success. He thought the world of you, Anna.’

‘It was mutual.’ She looked at him levelly. ‘Why did you come tonight instead of in the morning?’

‘Your father asked me to call in to check on you.’

She frowned impatiently. ‘He really shouldn’t have done that.’

‘It’s no great thing. I had to pass the cottage on my way home, Anna.’ Ryder stood up, his presence filling the low-ceilinged room. In place of the black tie and dark suit of the afternoon he wore a heavy navy sweater with casual cords, but as always, Anna thought resentfully, looked exactly right.

‘Since you are here we might as well talk now and save you some time,’ she said shortly, but he shook his head.

‘You look exhausted, Anna. I’ll come back in the morning. Goodnight. Sleep well.’ He looked down at her as she opened the front door. ‘Put the chain on after I leave.’

She gave him a curt nod. ‘Goodnight.’

Anna had been tired and ready for bed before RyderWyndham turned up. But sleep was a forlorn hope now without a warm bath to soothe down the hackles her visitor had raised without even trying. She knew perfectly well that she should have said her piece tonight, but sheer vanity had prodded her to look more appealing when she coaxed Ryder to let her stay in the cottage for a while.

Anna groaned next morning when she faced her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Looking like this she was in no state to do any coaxing. Her hair was a wild tangle after the steam of her late night bath and her face was milk-pale—something she’d have to put right pretty sharply before her father and Tom arrived and carted her off home to Shrewsbury whether she wanted to go or not.

Later, in a scarlet sweater chosen to lend warmth to her skin, Anna did some skilful work on her face, but her efforts failed to deceive the brace of doctors she was related to.

‘Bad night, obviously,’ said her father, looking worried.

‘My own fault. I took an unplanned nap during the evening,’ she told him. ‘Fortunately I was awake when Ryder called. Bad idea, Dad. You shouldn’t have asked him to do that.’

John Morton eyed her in surprise. ‘I knew he’d be passing on his way home. Besides, I thought you’d be pleased to see him.’

‘I was not looking my best by that time,’ she said tartly. ‘Not that it matters. Have you two got time for coffee before you take off?’

‘Sorry,’ said Tom regretfully. ‘I’m doing an outpatients clinic at two.’

‘And I’m seeing Father’s solicitor on the way back, so I must be off too,’ said John Morton, and peered into his daughter’s eyes as he felt her pulse. ‘How soon will you finish your antibiotics?’

‘Ten days to go.’

‘Good. But you look a bit anaemic to me, my girl. Add some extra iron to your vitamins.’

‘I’m already doing that, Dad.’

Once Anna had persuaded her men that she was perfectly capable of managing alone for a day or two, they drove off, one after the other, leaving her to wait for another visit from the Squire.

Ryder Wyndham arrived promptly at eleven, by which time Anna’s hair was in a careless-looking knot that had taken ages to achieve, and both she and the cottage were immaculate.

‘Good morning,’ said Anna as she let him in. ‘Coffee?’

‘Thank you.’

She opened the parlour door for him, but he followed her to the kitchen.

‘How are you today, Anna?’

‘Absolutely fine. Would you take the tray?’

When they were seated opposite each other in the parlour, Ryder took the cup she gave him and sat back. ‘For obvious reasons I was surprised when you asked to see me. So what can I do for you, Anna?’

She smiled politely. ‘Nothing too arduous. I just need your permission to stay on in the cottage for a few days. I’m supposed to convalesce for a while before even thinking of going back to work, and I’ll do that far better here than in London.’

He shrugged. ‘You don’t need my permission, Anna. It’s your grandfather’s house, not mine. He bought it from the estate years ago.’

‘What?’ She stared at him blankly. ‘Is that true?’

He looked down his aquiline Wyndham nose. ‘I’m not in the habit of lying, Anna. I admit it’s not our normal policy to sell off property, but Hector Morton served the estate faithfully all his working life, so my father made an exception in his case.’

Anna shook her head in amazement. ‘I had no idea.’

‘Surely you wondered why so much work was done here this past year?’