Marriage Reclaimed: Marriage at a Distance / Marriage Under Suspicion / The Marriage Truce

When he lifted his head, he was smiling.

He said lightly, ‘If I didn’t know better, Jo, I’d swear you almost enjoyed that.’

The knowledge that he could be right did nothing to appease her.

She said thickly, ‘Is this part of the ground rules—that you’re allowed to—maul me whenever you feel like it?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘Treat it as a momentary lapse—not to be repeated. But don’t expect me to apologise.’

He ran a finger down the curve of her flushed cheek, and laughed softly.

‘And don’t look so stricken, darling. Day One is nearly over. Which leaves only three hundred and sixty-five to go. And they’ll soon pass, I promise you.’

He went past her and out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Joanna stood very still, staring blindly in front of her.

She said once again, softly, ‘It will all be over soon.’

But this time her mantra gave her no comfort at all.

CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_f7554311-0fff-5937-bb9f-89d4d1663b06)

JOANNA decided it would be prudent to spend the rest of the day in her room. She took the latest batch of condolence letters with her, and set about answering them. It wasn’t a pleasant task, but it helped divert her mind from the even more disturbing thoughts which threatened to take control.

She was expecting a recriminatory visit from Cynthia, who was bound to be equally displeased at the terms of Lionel’s will. But for once her stepmother seemed to be keeping her distance.

Or at least from me, Joanna amended wryly.

When Mrs Ashby tapped on the door to ask about dinner, she simply requested a bowl of soup on a tray.

‘And then I’m going to have an early night,’ she added quietly. ‘So I’d rather not be disturbed.’

‘Very good, madam.’ Mrs Ashby looked down at the carpet. ‘Although I understand that Mr Verne and Mrs Elcott are dining at the Crown Hotel this evening.’

Which naturally explained a great deal, Joanna thought when she was alone again.

She changed into nightdress and robe, and drank her soup in the chair by the small but cheerful fire—a bedroom comfort to which Lionel had been strongly addicted, she recalled sadly.

‘Radiators aren’t cosy,’ he’d declare.

She listened to the radio for a while, then got into bed and tried to read, but the words of the book danced meaninglessly in front of her eyes. She tried to sleep, but her mind was running in restless circles and would not let her relax. Her body moved uneasily under the covers, seeking a comfort she could not find.

Now there were no more barricades to shelter her from the fact that Gabriel’s kiss had totally unnerved her. And just as disturbing was the realisation that she hadn’t resisted him. She hadn’t even slapped his face afterwards. And she should have done.

She should have shown him once and for all that his behaviour was unacceptable and would not be tolerated.

The warm, familiar taste of his mouth haunted her. Made her shiver again in what was, she told herself defensively, revulsion.

He had no right, she thought feverishly, and repeatedly. I gave him no right.

But then Gabriel had never waited to be granted favours of any kind, least of all sexual. He had always taken what he wanted, right from the first.

He’d forced her to accept his kiss with the same ruthlessness with which he’d imposed the terms of the will upon her.

Tomorrow she would find out about the divorce laws, she told herself broodingly. See if there was any way round the situation that Gabriel hadn’t thought of.

Some hopes, she mocked herself savagely.

She couldn’t really believe that he would contest the legal break-up of their marriage, or make her wait the eternity he’d threatened. He was simply using the possibility as a weapon to make her do what he wanted. But why?

She shook her head, staring into the darkness. He must want to put an end to this sterile situation as much as she did.

Pride seemed the only answer. Gabriel would not want it known that his wife was willing to sacrifice Lionel’s generosity in order to be free of him.

Well, he might have prepared the corner, and forced her into it, but from now on she would state her own terms for enduring this—farce.

At last she found herself drifting in and out of an uneasy sleep, hearing the long-case clock in the gallery chime every hour. And realising that she had not heard Gabriel and Cynthia return.

It was almost a relief when Mrs Ashby arrived punctually with her morning tea and she didn’t have to pretend any more that she was resting.

The housekeeper gave her a concerned look. ‘Are you going to stay in bed today, madam? Shall I call the doctor?’

‘No, and no.’ Joanna forced a reassuring smile. ‘I have a lot of things to see to.’

‘Yes, Mrs Verne.’ The other woman hesitated awkwardly. ‘Will you want me to move your things—to the master bedroom? Mr Gabriel told me last night he wanted it to be prepared, and I didn’t know…’

Joanna’s smile felt as if it had been welded there.

‘Mr Gabriel’s arrangements are his own business, Mrs Ashby. However, while I remain at the Manor I shall continue to use this room.’

‘Yes, of course, madam.’ The older woman’s kind face was a picture of embarrassment. ‘What about all the late Mr Verne’s things?’

Joanna bit her lip. ‘I’ll speak to Mr Gabriel. Ask what he wants done. Then we’ll sort through them together.’

That was one difficult moment survived, she thought resignedly when she was alone again, but there would undoubtedly be more to follow.

She followed her usual routine of pouring her tea, then taking the cup into the bathroom while she ran a bath for herself, scenting it generously with foaming bath oil in a clove carnation fragrance.

By the time she’d finished her tea, the water was just as she liked it. She slipped off her chiffon nightdress and slid with a sigh into the perfumed bubbles, closing her eyes and leaning back against the quilted headrest.

Usually she had her day mapped out, but now, in spite of her positive words to Mrs Ashby, she had no clear idea of what lay ahead of her.

Did Gabriel wish her to go on running the house in the old way, or did he plan to give the orders now?

That was something else she would have to ask him about, she reflected without pleasure. She tried to think of a way to frame the question that wouldn’t sound as if she was pleading for her old status.

‘It’s dangerous to sleep in the bath. Or is this a planned drowning?’