Fugitive Wife (22 page)

what you wanted to happen, wasn’t it?’

‘I should have thought you could have reached the same agreement in London,’ Sir Charles muttered. ‘Why in the world you had to come to the back of beyond—’

He gave the comfortable living room a comprehensive glance of utter dislike. ‘How many rooms are there in the place?’

‘Enough.’ Briony said sweetly, thanking heaven that Logan had replaced the mattress and bedding upstairs in the front room. ‘Would you like to go upstairs and have a look at the sleeping arrangements?’

‘Of course not.’ Christopher interposed hastily. ‘We trust you, darling. But it must have been an awful experience for you―awkward,

embarrassing.’

‘Very,’ she said. She turned to her father. ‘I don’t know what arrangements you’ve made for getting back to Town, but I ought to warn you that my car is being looked over in the local garage. It may just be a question of re-charging the battery, but I can’t be sure.’

‘Christopher wil bring your car back,’ Sir Charles said with an impatient wave of his hand. ‘One of the company cars and a chauffeur is waiting for us at the vilage inn. Are your things packed? I’d like to start back as soon as possible.’

She put on her coat while Christopher went up and fetched her case. As they walked down the path, picking their way between deep pools of slush, Briony wanted to turn and look at the cottage, but she wouldn’t alow herself to do so. She could not rely on maintaining her cool facade if she did, she knew.

There were stil patches of deep snow on the track, and Briony skirted them with care. Sir Charles’temper was not improved by a second encounter with the slippery hazardous surface, while Christopher’s face took on a martyred expression as more and more splashes

accumulated on his elegant City clothes.

The bar at the Black Bul wasn’t open yet, so Sir Charles strode into the lounge demanding a tray of tea and sandwiches to be brought to them. Christopher was dispatched to the garage to find out about Briony’s car, and returned presently looking even more wet and martyred to say that he’d told them to instal a new battery as they were in a hurry.

Briony found herself watching him as she forced herself to sip some tea and eat one of the sandwiches. He was pleasant enough, she

supposed, but far too much of a yes-man for her father―as indeed were most of the men she had encountered―with one exception, she

thought.

There was no sign of Logan anywhere; and she had to be glad of it, because the prospect of the kind of scene her father was quite capable of creating in his present mood filed her with trepidation. She was too tired and too unhappy to cope with quarreling and angry voices.

She wondered if Logan knew they were downstairs, and thought it was quite likely. Sir Charles’personality tended to fil most places, and in a smal place like the Black Bul he was almost overwhelming.

She folowed her father out into the street and stood waiting in the pub doorway while the chauffeur brought the car up to where they were standing.

‘You can folow us in Briony’s car, Christopher,’ Sir Charles barked authoritatively, ‘And keep your foot down if you don’t want to be left behind.’ It was comfortable in the back of the limousine, she had to admit, and it was pleasant having a cushion placed behind her back and a rug tucked over her knees to keep out non-existent draughts. She leaned back and closed her eyes, and was asleep even before the car had edged forward out of the vilage street on the journey south.

When she woke they were somewhere on the motorway.

Her father had been dozing too, and the rest seemed to have improved his temper. Either that or the prospect of finding himself on the way back to his own familiar territory, with a situation that he could control once more, she thought cynicaly.

He made sure the glass partition between driver and passengers was securely closed before he said, ‘It’s a good thing Christopher’s an easygoing man, my dear.’ He chuckled slightly with a satisfied air. ‘I don’t think I’d have been pleased in his position to learn that you were holed up in the wilds of Yorkshire with another man.’

‘Logan can hardly be described as another man.’ she said coldly. ‘He is stil my husband, if only legaly. And what precisely is

Christopher’s “position”, as you put it?’

‘Why—’ Sir Charles looked momentarily disconcerted. ‘As your future husband .. .’

She shook her head decisively. ‘Oh, no, Father. I haven’t made one mistake only to rush headlong into another. I’m sorry if Christopher has―expectations of me, but I can promise you that they’l never be fulfiled.’

‘I see.’ Sir Charles frowned. ‘Wel, I wouldn’t wish to influence your decision, my dear child.’

In other words, she supplied silently, he has also had second thoughts about Christopher as a future son-in-law for some reason. Wel, hurrah for the reason, whatever it is.

Her father was looking at his watch and making vaguely irritable noises.

‘A drive of this length is far too much in one day.’ he declared. ‘It would have been much better to have spent the night somewhere.’

‘Then why don’t we?’ Briony queried indifferently,

‘Because I have a ful day of meetings tomorrow.’ Sir Charles said crossly. ‘Not to mention this question of appointing the new women’s editor to the Courier.’ He sighed. ‘Mackenzie wants to make it an internal promotion, but I would like to bring over Helen Mortimer from the Echo. I feel that she has the right approach and would .. .’

‘Just a minute.’ Briony cut across him. ‘Is―is Karen Welesley leaving the Courier?’

‘Yes.’ said Sir Charles. ‘And damned inconvenient it is just at the moment. But her husband has just been appointed to the Paris office, and naturaly she wants to be with him.’

‘Her husband?’ Briony echoed weakly.

‘Yes. They were married about a month back. Very quiet affair. The first the board knew of it was when she handed her notice in.’

‘Who did she marry?’

‘Felow caled Tony Ericson―in foreign news.’

Briony was stunned into silence by the news. Karen was married―and to Logan’s former flatmate! Karen, in fact, had already been

married when she had seen her, as she thought, going to meet Logan at the flat.

Her father said, ‘What in the world’s the matter? You’ve gone as white as a sheet.’

‘It’s very stuffy in here.’ she managed. ‘Could we have the window slightly open, do you suppose?’

The air was cool and damp on her face as she sat, trying desperately to think, to make sense of it al. Karen married! Then what possible role could Logan stil play in her life, particularly in view of the fact that she would soon be off to Paris anyway? Briony couldn’t believe that Logan wouldn’t know of her marriage, especialy as Tony and he had been friends, so why hadn’t he told her about it? Why had he let her think that morning that he and Karen were stil involved?

Her brain was stil whirling as they puled in at the next service station for petrol. Briony climbed out of the upholstered luxury of the limousine to stretch her legs, just as Christopher puled in behind them. She walked over to him and he wound down the window.

‘How’s the car running?’ she asked.

‘Al right,’ he said rather sulkily. ‘I can’t get used to the gearbox yet, and it’s smaler than I’m used to driving.’

‘Poor Christopher,’ she said mockingly. ‘Want to let me drive? I've discovered I don’t make a very good passenger.’

He stared at her in slight dismay. ‘But your father …’

‘Oh, he won’t mind,’ she said airily. ‘Besides, you’l be with me to make sure I keep on the straight and narrow ―in this case the fast lane to London.’

‘I suppose so,’ he said warily. ‘I’d better just see what he says.’

‘You do that,’ she agreed.

Sir Charles made little fuss at the idea of her changing cars. He had, he said, some papers in his briefcase which he wanted to go over, and he would only be poor company for her.

It was good to be back behind the wheel again, and to have something to concentrate on, to take her mind off al the questions which were buzzing unanswered in her brain.

She drove steadily, keeping her father’s tail-lights always in view. Christopher, beside her, looked hunched and rather miserable as if he too wished he had some papers to bury himself in. Briony thought, Maybe he knows that he’s out of favour. And wondered why.

At last she asked, ‘Was Daddy terribly angry when Logan phoned and told him where I was?’

‘Angry,’ Christopher said fervently, ‘wasn’t the word for it.’ He gave her a sidelong glance. ‘I always knew he disliked your―your

husband, but I don’t think I realised quite how much until this morning.’

‘It took me quite a time to realise too.’ she said drily, remembering the file of cuttings hidden in the desk drawer, and the woman paid to divide and destroy. If he’d done it once, she thought, he could do it again.

She tried to make her voice casual. ‘He’s so impatient, of course. He must have known that the marriage wouldn’t work, but that didn’t stop him trying a few dirty tricks to speed the process along, as it were.’

She gave him a quick glance. ‘I hope I’m not shocking you.’

‘Not at al,’ he laughed awkwardly. ‘They say, don’t they, that al’s fair in love and war? And it’s certainly war between Logan and your father.’

‘Yes.’ It was starting to rain again, and she switched on the windscreen wipers. ‘They quarreled, then?’

‘That’s putting it mildly.’ Christopher sighed. ‘I thought at first your father was going to have an apoplectic fit. He kept shouting “I won’t have it, do you hear? You get out of her life, and you stay out! ” , He shook his head. ‘Odd, realy. I suppose your―husband can’t have made it clear to him that the marriage was over, or he wouldn’t …’ He stopped suddenly.

‘He wouldn’t what?’ Briony pressed gently.

‘Wouldn’t have insulted him as he did, I suppose,’ Christopher said after a pause.

He was aware that he was being indiscreet, and was retreating into silence she realised. Her brain worked madly.

She said with a light laugh, ‘I should think Logan’s quite used to Daddy’s insults.’ She managed a slight yawn. ‘Don’t tel me he tried to buy him off again?’

‘Wel, yes.’ Christopher looked thoroughly taken aback. ‘You mean it’s happened before?’

‘In a way.’ The steering wheel was beginning to feel slippery in her hands. She said smilingly, ‘It would serve Daddy right if Logan took the money.’

‘Oh, but he didn’t,’ Christopher assured her hastily. ‘I don’t know what he said, but I think it must have been equaly insulting, because Sir Charles went crimson, and couldn’t speak for a moment or two. When he started again, the air was blue, I can tel you. He said the reason your husband wouldn’t take the money he offered was because he expected to get far more than that when he―Sir Charles that is―died,

you being his heiress. Hey!’ He grabbed at the steering wheel in alarm. ‘Mind that lorry! ‘

‘I saw it,’ she said through stiff lips. ‘What else did he say?’

‘Not much.’ Christopher was clearly uncomfortable. ‘Look here, Briony, I shouldn’t even have told you this much.’

‘But you have.’ she said. ‘And now you can tel me the rest of this charming one-sided conversation.’

‘There was nothing charming about it,’ he said sulenly. ‘Your father told your husband that unless he got out of your life for good, he would cut you out of his wil―leave you entirely penniless. He said, “She’s enjoyed being a rich man’s daughter. Let’s see how long she can stand being a poor man’s wife. And you haven’t even got a job any more.” He stopped and looked at her stricken face. ‘Wel, you did ask me.’

he said defensively.

‘What happened then?’ She moistened her dry lips with her tongue.

Christopher thought for a moment. ‘Not a great deal,’ he said at last. ‘Your father began to look pleased, and then he put the phone down, and he was smiling. “Wel, I’ve made sure that we’ve seen the last of him.’’ he said.’ He sighed. ‘I’m afraid I was shocked, and I showed it.’

Shocked, Briony thought, or anxious in case Sir Charles was setting a precedent for the treatment of sons-in-law unfortunate enough to arouse his displeasure? But it didn’t matter. Al that mattered was that she knew the truth. She set her indicator going and drew on to the hard shoulder.

‘What’s the matter?’ Christopher demanded. ‘Is something wrong with the engine?’

‘The engine’s fine,’ she said. ‘This is where you get out, Christopher, I’m afraid. There’s an exit just ahead, and I’m going back to Yorkshire while I’ve stil got time. Don’t worry. Daddy wil soon notice that we’re not behind him and come back to have a look. Or you can hitch-hike if you prefer not to face him just yet. I’l tel you something―I bet Logan won’t be the only one without a job very soon.’

She leaned across him and opened the passenger door, as he seemed paralysed with shock.

‘Out,’ she said mercilessly.

It was nearly closing time when her car drew up in front of the Black Bul. She switched off the engine and ran into the foyer. One glance into the crowded bar told her that Logan was not there, and the surprised girl who came in answer to her imperative ring on the brass bel on the reception desk told her that Mr. Adair had decided not to stay after al, and had left early that evening.

‘Where did he go, do you know?’ Briony demanded urgently, but the receptionist couldn’t say.

Briony walked back into the dark street. The rain had eased somewhat, and a scatter of stars was dimly visible between the bulk of the slowly moving clouds. Logan, she supposed, would also be on his way to London by now; she had probably passed him on her mad dash

here. She stiffened suddenly as a thought struck her. The next moment she was running down the vilage street.

The track was worse than ever in the darkness, and she was splashed from head to foot with slush and dirty water by the time she reached the cottage gate. She leaned on the gate for a moment to catch her breath, straining her eyes towards the living room window, wondering if she was just imagining that the curtains were drawn and a faint chink of light peeping from between them.

She opened the gate and stumbled up the path. The front door wasn’t locked and a great breath of relief escaped from her as she flung herself across the threshold.