Wife By Agreement

‘Would you mind, Mrs Turner?’ She smiled at the housekeeper. ‘Sit down, please.’ She couldn’t understand what her night-class tutor was doing here, but, having stealed herself to face the dreaded Alexa, it was marvellous to see a friendly face. You’re a coward, Hannah, she told herself angrily. Show a bit more backbone!

Jean-Paul Dubois settled himself in an armchair and looked admiringly around the room. Hannah saw his glance dwell on a framed picture of Ethan with Catherine: two beautiful people, the perfect couple. He was too polite to comment.

‘You have a lovely home.’ He pushed his wire-framed glasses up the bridge of his nose. They were the only vaguely intellectual thing about the young Frenchman’s appearance. He looked more like a male model than a university lecturer, which was his daytime job.

‘Home’ had an optimistically permanent ring to it. ‘It’s been in my husband’s family for a long time.’ Ethan had inherited the place years ago from his father, and though his mother had first stayed on in her marital home she had left shortly after Ethan’s first marriage. Hannah had only met Faith Kemp once, at their own wedding, and the lady hadn’t bothered hiding her disapproval of the match. Hannah had heard with her own ears Faith read a scalding lecture to her son on the subject.

‘He is a beautiful bébé,’ Jean-Paul, said, laughing as Tom lobbed a pink elephant at his head.

‘Thank you.’

Jean-Paul nodded at the question in her eyes. ‘You are wondering why I am here?’

‘It’s very nice to see you.’

‘You are a very talented student. Some people have a natural talent for languages—you are one of them.’

Hannah flushed with pleasure. She’d certainly enjoyed the classes, but she hadn’t thought she was anything special. ‘I’ve had a good teacher.’

‘That’s why I wish you’d reconsider your decision to leave the class. I know there are many pressures when you have a family… The unfortunate accident—’

‘Stop right there,’ Hannah said, holding up her hand. Tom wriggled off her knee and went over to Jean-Paul, who took the theft of his spectacles in good part. ‘What makes you think I’m leaving the class? How did you know I’d had an…accident?’ She flushed a little as she said this.

‘Your husband spoke to me earlier,’ he explained.

Hannah drew a wrathful breath. ‘He did, did he?’ she said quietly, with a brilliantly false smile.

‘I did tell him how sorry I would be to see you go. I know our classes are light-hearted, but I was hoping you could go further.’

‘Further?’ she said, startled for a moment from her contemplation of a suitable punishment for her over-bearing husband. So long as she made the children happy, he had no right to interfere so blatantly in her life. One night a week to herself wasn’t too much to ask for.

‘Have you ever thought of doing a degree?’

‘Me?’ Hannah shook her head. ‘I couldn’t do that— I’ve no formal schooling to speak of. I left school at sixteen.’ That was when the State had stopped being responsible for her, and she’d woken up to the fact that taking care of herself and being in full-time education weren’t compatible.

‘Your family did not mind?’

‘I had no family,’ Hannah explained briefly. Her mouth tightened at the sympathetic light she saw in his eyes. She hated pity! ‘I trained as a nursery nurse.’ A job that gave her both an income and a roof over her head had seemed a practical compromise.

‘I know you are very young, Hannah.’

‘Twenty-three.’

‘But you would still be classed as a mature candidate for university entrance. There is quite a lot of flexibility for the right candidates.’

‘And you think I’m the right candidate?’

Jean-Paul smiled as he heard the hint of wistfulness creep into her voice. ‘The perfect candidate. Some mature students find the finances a drain, but you…’ His Gallic gesture took in the undoubted affluence of the surroundings.

‘I don’t know what to say.’ Could she? Ethan would never agree. All the same, the idea did take hold. Over the years she’d seen people much less able than herself go to university. It had been something that had seemed always tantalisingly out of reach.

‘Say yes, chérie.’ Satisfied he’d presented his case, he didn’t labour the point. ‘Where, bébé, are my glasses? You must lead me by the hand, Hannah. I am blind.’

Laughing, Hannah reached under the sofa and retrieved the spectacles. Still on her knees at the foot of Jean-Paul’s chair, she slid them obligingly back onto his nose.

At this point the door opened and the housekeeper returned, bearing a tray laden with coffee and scones. ‘I put plenty on for everyone. I know how hungry Emma is when she comes home.’

‘Can I have one now?’ Emma skipped into the room beside the upright figure of her grandmother, whose pale blue eyes swept over the room with a look of malicious triumph. ‘Can I, Mummy?’

‘Get changed out of your uniform first,’ Hannah said, pushing back the wing of silky hair that had flopped in her eyes. ‘Hello, Alexa. It was good of you to pick Emma up.’

‘Hannah, what a delightful surprise—I half expected you to be bed-bound, from the way Ethan was talking. You look glowing, my dear. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?’

Determined not to rise to the bait, Hannah simply nodded in Jean-Paul’s direction. ‘This is Jean-Paul Dubois, my French tutor. Jean-Paul, this is Alexa…’

Jean-Paul got to his feet and, clasping the older woman’s hand lightly, raised it to his lips. ‘Madame. No, Hannah, do not get up—you are busy with your family. Will you think about what I said?’

Hannah couldn’t help wincing as she got to her feet. The painkillers had improved the situation, but she was still stiff and sore. Gallant to his fingertips, Jean-Paul solicitously took her elbow.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured gratefully as she straightened up. ‘It was good of you to call. Goodbye.’

‘Au revoir,’ he corrected.

‘Does Ethan know you entertain your men whilst he is out working?’ Alexa settled herself into the chair Jean-Paul had vacated. She was a handsome woman who had kept a youthful figure. The permanent lines of bitterness around her mouth robbed her of what otherwise would have been beauty.

‘Man, Alexa,’ Hannah corrected calmly. ‘And I feel sure I can rely on you to tell Ethan.’ She was well aware that it wouldn’t occur to Ethan that a man like Jean-Paul would find her attractive—that was part of the reason he’d married her.

The older woman looked a little taken aback by her composure. ‘I expect you’ve been playing up a couple of scratches for all it’s worth. Catherine never let personal discomfort stop her doing what she wanted. She wasn’t afraid of anything!’

Which was why she wasn’t here now! Hannah repressed this unworthy observation. Tom had been barely a month old when Catherine had decided to ride in a point-to-point. When her horse had gone lame she had taken on a mount whose rider had been injured, even though the animal was renowned for an unpredictable temper. She had to have known the risk she was taking when she’d ignored advice—it was only because of her pregnancy that she’d missed out on a place in the British Olympic team. Hannah wasn’t in a position to speculate about what drove someone like that; perhaps it was irrelevant. Whatever the motivation, the outcome had been tragic.

‘I’m not Catherine.’

Alexa’s laugh was shrill. ‘And I’m sure Ethan remembers what he lost every time he looks at you,’ she sneered. ‘Thomas, put that down!’ she cried as the little boy lifted a porcelain figure off the lower shelf of a display case.

‘Give it to Mummy, Tom,’ Hannah said quietly, so as not to alarm the child. ‘Good boy,’ she praised as he handed it over. She placed the delicate ornament on a higher shelf. Alexa’s words wouldn’t have hurt so much if she hadn’t known they were true. She could never hope to compete with the vital, glowing creature Ethan had loved.

‘That was one of Catherine’s favourites.’

It would be, of course, Hannah thought philosophically. ‘Well, it’s safe now.’

‘I don’t know why you allow the children in this room. They ruin everything.’

Hannah sighed; they’d been through this before. ‘This is a family home, Alexa, not a showcase. It’s meant to be lived in.’ The whole place was in danger of becoming a shrine. It was bad enough that almost every room was filled with photos of its late mistress; the trophies of her sporting achievements remained as a memorial to her talent and sense of adventure. Not only had she been a top-class horsewoman, she’d been an accomplished yachtswoman, and somewhere along the way she’d managed to pack in a spot of rock-climbing. She had obviously been one of those people who found danger attractive, even addictive. Her talent hadn’t been limited to competing in the sporting world—she had founded and run a small manufacturing business which specialised in high-class sporting gear.

Hannah might not be able to alter the tastefully coordinated decor to suit her own taste, but she had been able to smuggle the odd toy box gradually into the drawing room and pin Emma’s early attempts at art on the kitchen wall, despite Alexa’s objections. A minor victory, but for Hannah a triumph. Children didn’t need the stifling atmosphere of a museum.

‘The place is looking positively shabby. I know Ethan doesn’t like to entertain much now Catherine is gone, but…’ Alexa’s aristocratic nose wrinkled in disgust.