When Enemies Marry

‘I think,’ Lucy said carefully, ‘that it’s a pity you didn’t live in a different era, a bygone era for example, when women were treated like chattels and it was accepted practice to generalise about them as if they were so many... sheep. As if they had no minds, only instincts.’

Then tell me this—you’ve ordered the course of this marriage so far; how happy has it made you?’

‘You’ve gone along with it,’ she said tautly.

‘Were you secretly hoping I’d do something as uncouth and as—exciting as taking you against your will after you made your dramatic declaration on our wedding-night?’

Lucy gasped. ‘Only minutes ago you were talking about... you were talking about...’

‘Something quite different, Lucy,’ he said.

‘I can’t see it, personally.’ She looked at him defiantly.

‘I was talking about finding out what your will really is in this matter,’ he said and his teeth glinted in a sudden grin. ‘Don’t look so worried, I’m not going to do it. Not tonight, at least. But I do make the point that to a certain extent you’ve given me yourself as a hostage in this ridiculous war, Lucy, and perhaps you should bear it in mind the next time you decide to fire any shots. Would you care to dish up the casserole or shall I?’

Lucy put down her napkin and stood up. The silver casserole was on a hot plate on the sideboard. ‘I will,’ she said, but didn’t move immediately. ‘Justin, you gave me very little choice about marrying you. You made it very plain that I could lose everything I possessed, not the least my home, where I’ve lived all my life, if I didn’t marry you. You put it to me that we could fight each other for years over Dalkeith and that you would fight for it although it was more or less all I had, while you’d inherited Riverbend and made yourself a huge fortune on top of it—’

‘That’s debatable—’

‘Don’t interrupt,’ she commanded. ‘But since you have, it was never my fault that our fathers were foolish enough to own this place in partnership and then even more foolish to fall out with each other and leave us to inherit this mess—’

‘Lucy, the cold, hard facts of the matter are a little different. Because Riverbend and Dalkeith are adjoining properties and because our fathers were friends, when your father got into financial difficulties, my father offered to inject some money into the place and accept a partnership in return—a silent partnership,’ he said significantly. And waited while Lucy tried to look unaffected but failed. He went on, ‘What broke up the friendship, despite this concession to your father’s ego, despite trying to help save Dalkeith from going under the hammer, was that your father persisted in believing that Australia could ride on the back of its sheep forever and fought every suggestion my father ever made for diversification away from growing wool.’

Lucy bit her lip. ‘I didn’t know all that,’ she said bravely, however.

‘No, but that wasn’t my fault,’ he retorted impatiently. ‘It was his fault that you didn’t know, his fault that you were allowed to queen it over all and sundry as Lucinda Wainright of Dalkeith and never suspect you’d have to share this place with anyone, let alone with me, whom your father had given you the impression you shouldn’t want to know any more anyway. Although—’ his eyes glinted ‘—there were times when you didn’t mind knowing me, Lucy.’

She coloured faintly but said with spirit, ‘If you’re referring to the days when I was barely out of rompers and didn’t know better than to follow you around whenever you were here—’

‘As a matter of fact I’m not referring to those days,’ he said softly—and said no more.

She blushed properly this time, which made her angrier. ‘If this is your revenge for—’ She stopped abruptly.

‘It isn’t,’ he answered equably. ‘Not against you, anyway.’

‘Then tell me this, Justin: what was your motivation for coming to see me only a fortnight after my father’s funeral and telling me that the only sensible course for us to pursue was to get married?’

‘Ah, well, my better nature did slip a bit then, I have to confess. You were so proud. I could also visualise the complications that might arise if someone else married you or got you pregnant before we’d sorted it all out. You have to agree, Lucy, that you left a trail of broken hearts around the district—it was really only a matter of time before you—er—fell. But of course, there was also the way you’d grown up, five foot six of sheer perfection, a bobby-dazzler in fact,’ he said with a shrug. ‘It occurred to me that not only would I not mind being married to you, but, since we had such a lot in common—’ his eyes drifted around the beautiful room ‘—it would simplify matters considerably.’

‘I’m only surprised you don’t have another theory,’ Lucy said through her teeth. ‘That wives can be schooled and trained like horses. Or is that still to come?’

‘Provided you get them young enough, it could be a possibility, even though you were so spoilt and indulged by your father,’ he said indifferently and shrugged again. ‘Lucy, how much longer do we have to wait to eat? We’ve had all this out before. And you were the one,’ he said with sudden impatience, ‘who accepted my proposal. Which to my mind, if we’re really discussing moral superiority, puts us on a par. Although you mentioned earlier that I threatened you with something like poverty. In fact I offered to buy you out, and that would have been a long way from poverty, my dear.’

‘But I didn’t want to be bought out. I decided to fight in the only way I could think of for my birthright, Justin. My great-grandparents happen to be buried here, and my mother and now my father, I love every acre of Dalkeith and sometimes, when you love something enough, you’re prepared to go to extraordinary lengths to preserve it. Besides which, it occurred to me,’ she said softly, ‘that you’d find it not considerably simpler but much more difficult to dispossess a wife, Justin.’

‘A wife, yes, Lucy,’ he said. ‘But there are certain things you have to do to become a true wife.’

‘It’s only your word against mine—ah,’ she said to herself. ‘So that’s why you haven’t forced me to go to bed with you! You’re keeping your options open, aren’t you, Justin? But while an annulment on the grounds of non-consummation may entitle me to less of your property, it is only your word against mine.’

He lay back in his chair and watched her. ‘Would you lie about something like that, Lucy?’

‘Where you’re concerned, I might. Don’t forget, I have to put up with your mistress parading herself around my home—who knows what flights of fancy the mere fact of that might prompt in me—where is Sasha, by the way?’

‘She’s gone back to Riverbend and she’s not my mistress.’

‘Then she’s dying to be your mistress.’

‘She happens to be an employee, my private assistant in charge of the stud at Riverbend, as you very well know, and she’s extremely good at her job, that’s all; what makes you think she has...the ambition you’re accusing her of?’

Lucy turned to the sideboard at last. ‘You’d probably have to be a woman to understand that. But I would have thought even you could see the sort of censorious way she treats me.’

‘There are times when you lay yourself open to that, Lucy.’

Lucy heaped a fragrant portion of lemon chicken on to a plate, and some steaming, fluffy rice, and laughed. ‘Perhaps I do. But she does so obviously hold this conviction that you were mad to marry me whatever else she is or isn’t, you see. On the subject of mistresses, by the way...’ She turned and carried his plate over to him, not unaware that his gaze was following every move she made, then went back for her own. ‘At thirty, you must have had some, probably dozens. You’re successful, you’re good-looking when you’re not being critical and superior—did none of them prompt you to think of marriage for all the right reasons?’ She sat down and helped herself to salad then courteously handed the crystal bowl to him. ‘Take Joanna Madden, for example.’ she added pointedly. ‘I’m sure a lot of people thought that was a fait accompli.’

‘So did I—once upon a time,’ she said musingly after a while when she thought he wasn’t going to answer.

‘What happened? Did she have nothing as enticing as the other half of Dalkeith to offer you?’

‘She—had her reasons.’

‘You don’t seem particularly perturbed,’ Lucy said witheringly.

He smiled fleetingly. ‘One lives and learns, I guess. Lucy,’ he said after a pause, ‘considering our feelings on the subject of Dalkeith—and while I acknowledge mine aren’t as unaltruistic and loving as yours, none the less it is very important to me-considering that we have its best interests at heart in other words, would it be so hard to see whether we couldn’t make a go of this marriage?’

She considered for a long time then she said rather bleakly, ‘That’s like asking a nation to love their invaders. I don’t think it’s possible. I mean, for another thing, there’s the problem that you don’t respect me—you surely couldn’t if you really believe that regular sex is all I need to keep me happy—’

‘There’s a difference between regular sex and satisfying sex.’

She shot him an oblique look. ‘Your ego is really monumental, Justin, even for a man. All right, but I’m still just another giddy girl to you, aren’t I?’

‘I suppose it wasn’t a help possessing such stunning looks on top of a father who spoilt you rotten, but you certainly don’t go out of your way to dispel that image, Lucy.’

She looked across at him and there was something curiously haughty in her eyes. ‘Perhaps not, but that might not be all there is to me. For example, I do know quite a lot about Dalkeith and how it runs—if young men can sow their wild oats, why can’t girls have a few giddy salad days, anyway?’

He put his knife and fork together and stared at them for a long moment, before raising his eyes to hers. And then there was something curiously enigmatic in them as he said, ‘I’ve told you, what’s history can remain so. Your legion of lovers and my—multitude of mistresses. Unfortunately, you’ve got into the habit of sending out unmistakable signals—you’re probably right about young Mr Lang and the kind of thoughts he’s having about you now.’

Lucy grimaced.

‘Not picking up the bait, Mrs Waite?’ Justin said softly but with an undercurrent of mockery.

She tightened her mouth and subjected him to a deep blue look of considerable scorn.

He only laughed quietly. ‘Just one more thing, Lucy. In case you haven’t already got the message, if celibacy is becoming irksome then I am your only alternative. Remember that:

She burst into speech. ‘What about you? You don’t really expect me to believe I am your only alternative.’

‘Well, you are, so bear that in mind as well, my dear. But I’m afraid celibacy, inside marriage, certainly won’t suit me forever.’ He stood up. ‘And you know, Lucy, while I give your devotion to Dalkeith full credit, there’s no way a twenty-year-old girl could run it. There was no way you could have gone on without the kind of cash it needs again—and Dalkeith has become a rather expensive pastime for us Waites.’ He stopped and watched her as she took the point and looked away uncertainly. Then he went on quite gently, ‘But this way, here you are, mistress of it, and if you’ve got as much sense as I think you have in your more rational moments you must know it’s in good hands. By the way, I’m taking a couple of weeks off and we’re giving a house party this weekend. You might need to get in extra help. Goodnight.’