Fugitive Wife Read online

  He said, ‘Good morning. The track to the village is just about negotiable, you’ll be pleased to hear. I called at the garage while I was down there and they’re sending someone to have a look at your car.’

  Utterly bewildered, she said, 'Thank you. I―I guessed you’d gone to the village. Did you get any bread?’

  He shook his head. ‘We’ll have to make do with what food we have left for the short time remaining.’

  ‘Short time?’ she echoed, staring at him. ‘I don’t understand.’

  Logan shrugged. ‘I think it’s best for us to get out of here while the going’s good.’ he said. ‘In the village, they’re talking about flooding further down the valley already. We don’t want the weather to trap us here again.’

  She tried to smile. ‘I wouldn’t mind.’

  ‘I think you would in time. Anyway, the question doesn’t arise. I’ve booked myself a room at the Black Bull for tonight.’

  ‘Don’t you mean you’ve booked us a room?’

  ‘If I’d meant that.’ he said wearily, ‘I’d have said it. I’ve booked myself a room. You’ll be long gone by tonight.’ She saw his mouth tighten. ‘I’ve telephoned your father. He’s coming for you.’

  There was a silence, then Briony said helplessly, ‘I don’t believe you. Why should you … ? I thought―last night ...’

  ‘Last night was last night,’ he said. ‘It is now the cold light of day, and time we started seeing things in their right perspective.’ His voice was cool, almost laconic.

  She took a step forward. ‘You’re joking―you must be! Please don’t tease me, Logan, it’s not kind.’

  ‘I’m quite serious.’ he said. ‘And I’m being much kinder than you think. Nothing has really changed, you know. We’re still the same people. All we’ve really learned is how to please each other in bed.’

  ‘That isn’t all.’ she said past the hard lump in her throat. ‘Or it isn’t for me at least. I love you, Logan.’

  He said quietly, ‘Briony, you’re just making this harder on both of us. What you’re really saying is that you like making love with me. But I’m the only lover you’ve ever had, so how can you know that you won’t enjoy what we had together just as much or more with someone else ? ’

  ‘I don’t want anyone else.’ she said tonelessly.

  'Perhaps not at this moment.’ There was no amusement his faint smile. ‘I wouldn’t feel very flattered if you did. But you have a life to make for yourself, and some day soon there’ll be another man in that life.’ He paused. ‘ This man you’re practically engaged to―this Christopher―what about him?’

  ‘He doesn’t mean a thing to me.’ She was practically wringing her hands. ‘I―I only told you he did because I was frightened of you, of how you could make me feel.’

  ‘Well, you clearly mean a great deal to him.’ Logan said drily. ‘He's on his way here too, with your father.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Briony was aghast. ‘I don’t want him here. I don t want either of them.’ She stared at him. ‘Why did you do this?’

  ‘Because it occurred to me that your father would probably be worried out of his mind about you. You are his only child, after all, and I must give him credit for possessing some normal feelings.’

  ‘You told him that we’d been here―together?’

  ‘I didn't tell him about last night, if that’s what you mean. I merely said that we’d both turned up here and been cut off by the snow ever since.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Let’s just say his reaction was―predictable.’ Logan gave a slight shrug. ‘Which is one of the reasons I took the room at the Black Bull.’

  ‘Scared, Logan?’ she asked evenly. A bright spot of colour burned in each of her pale cheeks.

  ‘No.’ His mouth twisted contemptuously. ‘I merely thought it would be less hassle for you if I was out of the way.’

  ‘Oh, you’re all consideration.’ She wanted to scream out loud, and throw herself down and drum her heels, but instead she had to stand there in front of the table like an unsuccessful candidate at an interview and listen to him calmly and uncaringly smashing every dream she possessed. ‘You were gone quite a long time. Was―was my father the only person you telephoned?’

  ‘No. Does it matter?’

  ‘It could explain a good deal,’ she said, and laughed rather wildly. ‘You were so quick to reassure me that there would be other men in my life, that it almost never occurred to me that the reverse will also be true. That there’ll be other women in yours.’ She paused. ‘Well? I notice that you don’t deny it.’

  ‘If ever I decide to become a monk.’ he said softly, ‘I’ll enter a monastery.’

  She said in a voice she didn’t recognise, ‘Did you phone Karen Wellesley?’

  Logan’s head lifted sharply and he looked at her for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice seemed to come from a far distance. He said, ‘Yes.’

  The house seemed empty and weird after he had gone. Briony sat listlessly by the living room fire and listened to the sound of the rain, which was falling more heavily than ever. The view from every window was the same― a grey sodden morass, interspersed with patches of melting snow, reflecting the dull hue of the heavy sky.

  She felt drained and empty and cold to the bone. It was impossible to believe that only a few hours before she and Logan had been here together on that makeshift bed in front of the fire. Incredible to remember the passion and the laughter and the tenderness, and the swift, fierce ascent to passion again. Her throat closed at the memory of it.

  She had given Logan everything she had to give. She had believed in her naivety that generosity would make up for her lack of experience, and she had been totally generous, her surrender complete. Yet it had not been enough. She had seen it as the beginning of a real relationship. She had thought he felt the same. She’d been so sure …

  She gave a long, quivering sigh. Now she was sure of nothing, least of all of her own feelings. Emotionally, she felt bruised, as she had done when she received the report of his death. Perhaps the bruises would fade in time, or at least not hurt quite as much.

  Perhaps there would even come a time when she would be able to think of him with Karen Wellesley and not know the pain which was tearing her apart at that moment.

  She couldn’t think about that now. She couldn’t allow herself to think because it was very important that she be calm and self-controlled when her father and Christopher arrived. For her pride’s sake, she had to have her dignity intact, and not let them find her tear-stained and red-eyed.

  She would follow the lead Logan had already given, she thought dully, and let them think that they had been reluctant sharers of the same roof and nothing more.

  Suddenly during the course of the long afternoon she remembered her wedding ring again, and her abortive attempt to retrieve it from beneath the dresser. This time she would find it, she vowed. At least she would have something of Logan to remember.

  She got the torch, and fetched a broom from the kitchen and lay full length on the floor. But all she unearthed with her frantically prodding broom handle was dust and a few disgruntled spiders. The ring seemed to have vanished completely, probably down some unseen crack in the floor, she thought despondently as she got slowly to her feet. Even the smallest memento of her brief and transitory happiness was to be denied her, it seemed.

  She had resumed her seat by the fire when she realised that there were people coming up the path. She could hear masculine voices, and knew with a sinking heart that her father had arrived.

  He was very angry, she saw as she opened the door in answer to his thunderous knock, but keeping it under control. Christopher standing behind him, his elegant overcoat collar turned up against the all-pervading damp, looked plain miserable.

  ‘And what is the meaning of this?’ Sir Charles demanded tautly as he went into the living room. ‘Do you realise what you’ve made me suffer in the past week, you thoughtless, irresponsible child?’


  Christopher reached for her hand. ‘Darling, why didn’t you tell us where you were going?’

  ‘Because I didn’t want you to follow me,’ she said quietly, removing her fingers from his grasp.

  ‘Isn’t the real reason because you had a rendezvous with that Adair man?’ Sir Charles barked.

  ‘No,’ she said calmly. ‘My arrival here was as unpleasant a shock to Logan as his was to me. In the circumstances, he was the last person I wanted to see. However,’ her voice wavered slightly, ‘we do seem to have reached an agreement that we do not― agree, and that’s 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 will 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 village 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 allow herself to do so. She could not rely on maintaining her cool facade if she did, she knew.

  There were still 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 Bull 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 install 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 filled her with trepidation. She was too tired and too unhappy to cope with quarrelling and angry voices.

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

  She followed 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 follow 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 village 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 cynically.

  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 still my husband, if only legally. 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’ll never be fulfilled.’

  ‘I see.’ Sir Charles frowned. ‘Well, 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. Well, 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 full 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 Wellesley 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 naturally 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?’

  ‘Fellow called 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 all. Karen married! Then what possible role could Logan still 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, especially 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 still involved?

  Her brain was still whirling as they pulled 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 pulled in behind them. She walked over to him and he wound down the window.

  ‘How’s the car running?’ she asked.

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

  ‘Poor Christopher,’ she said mockingly. ‘Want to le
t 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’ll 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.