Sue for Mercy - Veronica Heley Page 0,58
a tired whisper. “She won’t share. She couldn’t live in somebody else’s house, with someone else’s furniture, even if you did make this place self-contained.”
“Every woman wants her own kitchen,” I said lightly, trying to lighten Charles’ mood.
“Just as long as you realise you’re refusing it for him as well as for yourself,” said J.B. He went through into his bedroom and closed the door behind him.
Now he’d made me feel guilty. “Do you mind, Charles? Is this what you really want?”
“I don’t want anything I haven’t earned for myself,” he said. I believed him. I kissed him, and he kissed me back, but still his eyes were sombre. Suddenly he started to shiver.
“You’re still cold?” I said.
“Reaction — take no notice. I’ll be all right after a good night’s sleep. I keep thinking of you in that freezer; I ought never to have let you go back into that house. I knew Bianca would hurt you if she could. The worst of it is that I know exactly why I did let you go back; I was the clever one, the one who was going to pull the rabbit out of the hat, and I wanted you to be there to see me do it. I was showing off — and you nearly died because of my selfishness.”
“But I’m all right now,” I soothed him. “Feel me — I’m warm now — and it was only a few minutes...”
“It ought never to have happened. I love you and yet I allowed you to be hurt...”
He was shivering convulsively now. I pushed him down on to the bed and ran for the door to J.B.’s room. I think he’d been waiting for me to call him, for he was right by the door with a bottle of whisky in one hand and a glass in the other. We got some of it down Charles, and then J.B. said he’d call a doctor.
“No, I’m damned if I’ll have any more doctors poking me around,” said Charles weakly. He’d almost stopped shivering, but he still looked terrible.
“You need to get drunk, boy.”
Charles tried to laugh. “What I need is to get into bed with Sue, and...”
“Of course!” said J.B. making for the internal phone. “I’ll have Mrs. Green bring her things up straight away. Better than whisky or the doctor, I shouldn’t wonder.”
I didn’t argue. I couldn’t, with Charles looking at me like an orphan from the storm. My overnight bag appeared within five minutes, by which time I’d got Charles undressed and into bed. J.B. handed me the key of his door, so that I could lock him out, and said he’d make our apologies to the Ashtons.
Charles slept for twelve hours without moving, his left hand wound into my hair so that I couldn’t get away, even if I’d wanted to. The next day he got up, but was so far from his usual energetic self that J.B. had the doctor round to check him over. The doctor said he found nothing wrong that a good rest wouldn’t cure, and I was driven to work by the chauffeur in the Rolls. I worked the week out and then left. I never did go back to my flat; the yellow carpet fits nicely in my sitting-room downstairs at Whitestones.
We were married very quietly at the end of the week. My parents didn’t like the match, but they made the best of it. Perhaps they guessed that making a success of my job at Whitestones would mean that I’d grow away from them. They are proud of me, and uncomfortable in Charles’ presence. I don’t think he notices.
We didn’t have a proper honeymoon. Charles didn’t want to go away until he’d seen his father safely back at Green Gables, so we flew to Florence for a few days, and then got back to deal with the alterations at Whitestones and as much of J.B.’s business as Charles wanted to go on handling.
Once I’d accepted that I had to share Charles, I began to like J.B. He is tough, and you do have to stand up to him, but he’s a very genuine person, and he loves and needs Charles, as Charles loves and needs him. We did have some rows at first, though. For one thing, J.B. expected me to take over as chatelaine at Whitestones, and act social secretary for him in an unprecedented urge to socialise. I got into a state, Charles told me I didn’t have to lift a