Vacancy: Wife of Convenience

‘As you can imagine, my grandfather was devastated. But he at last seems to be coming to terms with his grief. Naturally we’ve all rallied round to try and help him at this dreadful time. My parents and my aunt Daphne—my grandfather’s daughter—particularly. In actual fact, my parents spent the weekend with him at his home in Dorset only last weekend.’ He paused, then added, ‘Which is why my father rang me the moment he got home on Sunday. I wasn’t in. He left a message saying it was of some importance that we meet without delay. I should explain—’ Silas broke off what he was saying to note ‘—that my father does not use such language unless something of very great import is going down.’

Colly’s brain was racing. ‘It was to do with Livingstone Developments having some kind of sword dangling over its head?’ was the best she could come up with.

‘Got it in one,’ Silas approved. ‘My father isn’t one to panic, as I mentioned, but he knew something serious was afoot when my grandfather told him that he wanted to talk privately to him in his study. My father came out from the study shaken to the core, still taking in what my grandfather had told him.’

Colly was desperately trying to think what any of this could have to do with her and this vacancy that had been created.

‘Your grandfather needs a housekeeper?’ She took a disappointed guess. It would be a job, and with accommodation thrown in. But did she really want to be a housekeeper for some elderly gentleman?

‘He already has a housekeeper,’ Silas informed her.

She was lost again. ‘Sorry. I’ll keep quiet until you’ve finished. Er—you haven’t finished yet?’

‘I’m getting there. The thing is that since my parents and aunt can’t be with Grandfather all the time he spends many hours alone reliving the past. And at this present time, and with the loss of my grandmother so recent, he spends a lot of time thinking of her and their long years of very happy marriage. Which,’ Silas said, ‘brings us up to Sunday, when, in his study, my grandfather spoke to my father in terms of altering his will. Instead of my cousin Kit and I inheriting his considerable holding of shares in the firm between us—as I’ve always been lead to believe will happen—he intends to leave the whole basket-load of shares to Kit—if I don’t buck my ideas up and marry.’

Colly blinked—and didn’t know which question to ask first. ‘You’re not married?’ was the first one to pop out.

‘Never have been.’

‘But your cousin—Kit—is married?’

‘Has been this last ten years.’

‘You’re not engaged or living with anyone?’ she questioned, more or less in the same way he had asked her on Tuesday.

He shook his head. ‘No, nor likely to be.’

‘Nor do you want to marry?’

‘Definitely not. And, much though I’m fond of the old chap, I resent him, just because he has this sublime respect for the institution of marriage, attempting to force me to take a wife.’

‘But unless you do you stand to be disinherited,’ she reasoned. ‘Join the club.’

‘It’s not going to happen.’

‘Your father thinks he’ll change his mind?’

‘Very doubtful. My father’s anxiety stems from the certainty that it will happen, and that all that he and I have worked for over the years will be as nothing if Kit gets a controlling interest in the firm. Which, with those shares, he most definitely will.’

‘He’s—er—not up to the job?’

‘Don’t get me wrong. Kit and I had a lot to do with each other during our growing years. I’m fond of him, despite his faults. But, as well as being no powerhouse when it comes to work—and that’s being kind—he is far too easily swayed by others. Although he’s already parted with some of the shares his mother gave him, he, like me, already has enough shares to guarantee him a seat on the board. But while we have a duty to our shareholders we also have a duty to our workforce. And I’m afraid Kit feels a duty for neither. It’s a foregone conclusion that the ship will sink if he has any hand in guiding it.’

Colly did not know much about big business, but if Silas Livingstone thought it was so, she was quite willing to believe him. ‘So…’ she brought out the best her brain could come up with ‘…either you marry and inherit a sufficient number of shares to deny your cousin control, or you ultimately have to stand by and watch him ruin all that three generations of Livingstones have worked for?’

‘Exactly,’ Silas agreed. ‘And while God forbid that anything untoward happens to my grandfather for years and years yet, I have to face the reality that he’s currently aged eighty-four. Which is why I have determined that when that awful day comes, and he’s no longer with us, I am not left hearing that unless I have been married for a year and a day the shares that should be mine have been inherited by my cousin Kit.’

By then Colly had forgotten entirely that she had only dined with Silas Livingstone to hear about a job he was now offering her. She recalled how wounded she herself had felt at the way her father had left his will. By the look of it, the shares Silas Livingstone had always been led to believe were half his would be willed elsewhere.

On thinking over all he had just said, though, she could only see one way out for him—if he was dead set on keeping the company safe. ‘I’m sorry, Silas,’ she said quietly, ‘but it seems to me that unless you’re prepared to let the company fail you’re going to have to get over your aversion to marriage and take yourself a wife.’

For ageless moments after she had spoken Silas said not a word. Then, drawing a long breath, ‘That is the only conclusion I was able to reach too,’ he said. And then, looking at no one but her, ‘Which,’ he added, ‘is where you come in.’

She stared at him. ‘Me?’ she questioned, startled.

‘You,’ he agreed.

Her brain wasn’t taking this in. ‘No,’ she said on a strangled kind of note as what he might possibly be meaning started to filter through. Then, as common sense swiftly followed, ‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised. ‘For one totally absurd moment I had this weird notion that you were asking me to marry you.’

She laughed awkwardly, feeling that she had made a fool of herself. She was on the brink of repeating her apology, only, daring to take a glance at him, certain that he must be laughing his head off, she could see not one glimmer of being highly amused about him!

Colly swallowed hard. ‘You weren’t doing that, were you?’ she asked, her voice gone all husky in shock.

‘I cannot fault the idea,’ he answered, his look steady, his expression unsmiling.

Did that mean that he was suggesting that he marry her? No, don’t be ridiculous. Good heavens, she…Colly got herself more together. Whether he was suggesting what it very much sounded as if he was suggesting or not, she thought it was time she let him know her feelings.

‘I don’t want a husband!’ she told him bluntly.

‘Good!’ was his answer, doing nothing for her feeling that she had just made one enormous fool of herself. ‘I don’t want a wife.’ She wondered if she should get up and leave right now. ‘But…’ he added—and she stayed to hear the rest of it, ‘…you and I both have a problem, wouldn’t you agree?’

‘I know what your problem is,’ she agreed.

‘And your problem is that you need somewhere to live and the wherewithal to finance your training.’

‘I hope you’re not thinking in terms of giving me money!’ she erupted proudly—and, oddly, saw a hint of a smile cross his features. ‘I shall work for any money I—’

‘Look on this as work,’ he cut in quickly.

‘This is the job you’re offering me?’ This wasn’t happening; she’d got something wrong somewhere.

He took a long breath, as if finding her uphill work. She did not care. The whole notion was absurd—that was if she had got all this right. ‘Try and see this logically,’ Silas said after some moments.

Colly looked at him levelly, took a deep breath of her own, and supposed her reaction had been more instinctive than logical. ‘So?’ she invited, as calmly as she could.

‘So in my line of business I have to work not for today but for tomorrow. Use forward planning techniques to the full.’

‘As in marrying someone before your grandfather’s will gets read?’

‘Which hopefully won’t be for years yet. But, yes. Had anyone but my level-headed father told me what the stubborn old devil intends to do I’d have paid scant attention.’

‘But your father isn’t one to panic unnecessarily?’

Silas nodded. ‘I’d twenty-four hours to take on board what he said when the daughter of a much-respected man in the engineering world was there in my office—telling me she had been disinherited…’

‘And that rang a bell?’

‘Too true it rang a bell. You then went on to say how you needed a job that paid well, and how you were going to have to find some place to live, and I find I’m suddenly going into forward planning mode.’

‘You—um…’ She couldn’t say it. She did not want to make a fool of herself again. Though she could not help but recall how he had asked her about men-friends, and if she were engaged or anything of that sort.

‘I had an idea,’ he took up. ‘An idea that I’ve had since Tuesday to look at from every angle.’

‘That idea being…?’ she questioned, and waited, barely breathing, to hear whether she had been foolhardy to think he might be meaning what she thought he was so amazingly suggesting, or whether her brain, her instincts, had got it right.

‘That idea being,’ he said, looking at no one but her, his gaze steady, unwavering, ‘to marry you.’

A small sound escaped her. Even though she had thought that might be what he meant, she could not help that small gasp of shock. ‘Thank you for dinner,’ she said, and stood up.

He was, she discovered, not a man to give up easily. He had cynically, no emotion in it, decided he would marry, case closed.

But he was on his feet too. ‘Hear me out, Colly?’ he asked of her. ‘Neither of us wants to marry, so that’s all in our favour.’

‘How on earth do you make that out?’

‘Neither of us is emotionally involved. And it’s not as if we have to live with each other.’

‘We don’t?’ she found herself questioning, even when she was just not interested.

He put a hand under her elbow and guided her from the lounge, waited while she retrieved her cloak, then escorted her out to his car. But instead of driving off once they were in his car, he turned to her and stated, ‘You too have a problem, Colly.’

She half turned to look at him. ‘I’m fully aware of that,’ she answered shortly.

‘And I’m in a position to solve your problems,’ he said. And before she could give him a curt, No, thank you, he was informing her, ‘My grandfather owns a small apartment here in London where he and my grandmother stayed whenever they came up to town. He hasn’t used it since her death, and he’s said he will never again use it. But, because of his very happy memories of times spent there, neither will he part with it. He’s asked me to keep an eye on the place, and I’ve stayed the occasional night there. But you’d be doing me a favour if you’d take it on. The place needs living in.’

Good heavens! ‘You’re offering me the tenancy?’ she exclaimed, guessing in advance that she would never be able to afford the rent.

‘What I’m offering, in return for you giving me a half-hour of your time and standing up in front of some registrar and making the appropriate responses when asked, is somewhere to live. I think you’ll be comfortable there. Further to that, I’ll undertake to fund any training you desire, be it a foundation course followed by university, or whatever you may wish to do.’

This was jaw-dropping stuff! She had come out with him for a job interview and had never expected anything like this! She just had to recap. ‘In return for an “I will” you’re prepared to…’

‘On the day you marry me,’ he replied unhesitatingly, ‘I shall arrange for ten thousand pounds to be paid into your bank, with subsequent top-ups as and when required.’

‘No!’ she said, point-blank, and, nothing to argue about, she turned to face the front.

‘Think about it,’ he returned.

‘I’d like to go home,’ she told him woodenly. She was aware of his hard scrutiny, but was relieved when after some seconds he too faced the front and started up his car.

Neither of them spoke on the way back to her home. What he was thinking about she had no idea, but her head was positively buzzing. ‘Think about it,’ he had said—how could she not?

When she was desperate for somewhere to live he was offering her free accommodation! When she had a need to train for a career—and by twenty-three most women had a toe-hold on several rungs of the career ladder—he was offering to finance her career training!

She should be snatching his hand off. But—marry him! Colly knew that to marry him was something that she could just not do.

Having been silent all the way home, it was as if Silas Livingstone had thought to give her all the space she needed to get used to the idea. Because no sooner had he driven up to her front door than he turned to her.

‘What’s it to be?’ he enquired mildly.

‘I thought I’d given you my answer.’

‘That was instinctive, spur-of-the-moment, an unanalysed reaction.’ He shrugged that away. ‘Marry me,’ he urged.

‘I—don’t even know you!’ she protested.

‘You don’t need to know me,’ he countered. ‘Just a half-hour—we need never see each other again.’

‘No,’ she repeated. ‘I can’t. I’m sorry. I know how very important this is to you, but—’

‘You’re right there,’ he cut in abruptly, causing her to stare at him. But, relenting suddenly, ‘I’ve had since Tuesday to adjust to the notion. Four days in which to weigh everything up, to mull it over and over, to get used to the idea before reaching the decision I have. On reflection, perhaps I’m not being fair, dropping it on you like this and expecting you to come back with the answer I want.’

She was about to reiterate that her answer was no. And that had she had those same four days it would not have made any difference—her answer would still be no—that she just did not need to think about it, or need to get used to the idea either. But Silas was no longer beside her. He was out of the car and had come round to the passenger door.

She stepped out and he stood with her for a moment on the gravel by the front door. He glanced down to where, in the light of the security lamps, her dark hair glowed with red lights. ‘Think about it,’ he said. ‘Think about it and I’ll call you. I’ll phone you Tuesday evening.’

Colly looked up. His expression was telling her nothing. She opened her mouth to again tell him no, that she had no need to think about it, then realised that he was not in any kind of mood to take ‘no’ from her.

‘Goodnight,’ she said, and went indoors.

Saturday and Sunday passed with Colly still trying to believe that the conversation that had taken place on Friday night had actually taken place and was not some figment of her imagination. Had Silas Livingstone really suggested they marry? Had he really told her to think about it and that he would call her for her answer?

Whatever—his astonishing proposal did achieve one thing: her head was so full of it there was small room for her to take much heed of Nanette’s spiteful barbs whenever they were within speaking distance of each other.

Though on Monday morning Nanette was at her most vicious. ‘You still here?’ she snapped when she eventually came down the stairs.

‘I’m making plans,’ Colly returned, without a plan in her head.

‘You’d better make them pretty quick, then,’ Nanette retorted, going on to inform her nastily, ‘If you’re not out of this house by the end of the week I’m having all the locks changed!’

‘You can’t do that!’ Colly gasped.

‘Who’s going to stop me? Joseph Gillingham left this house to me.’ And, with a triumphant smirk, ‘It’s mine!’

Not for the first time Colly wished that her father’s lawyer friend Henry Warren were there to advise her. Surely she could not be barred from her home of twenty-three years? Be put out in the street—just like that! But Uncle Henry was still holidaying abroad, and to seek help from some other legal representative would take money. And money was in rather short supply just then.

How short was again brought home to her when, a little while later, she went looking for a flat to rent. Prices were sky-high! She couldn’t so much as pay the first month’s rent in advance for even the lowliest bedsit!

Silas Livingstone’s proposal that she stand with him in front of some registrar suddenly started to have a weakening effect on her. She stiffened her backbone. She couldn’t do it. Marry him? Take money from him? No, it was out of the question.

She returned to her car, but had no wish to return home. It was not home any more. She began to feel all stewed up—what other options were open to her? There were none. She replayed again that morning’s spat with Nanette and could not get it out of her head. That was when Colly realised that if she dwelt on it many more times she might yet weaken completely. And she could not weaken. She could not marry Silas Livingstone.

On impulse she took out her phone. She would tell him now. She would not wait until tomorrow for him to call her. She would tell him now—while she still had the strength of mind.

She supposed she should have realised it would not be as simple as that to get in touch with him. He was a busy man. He had not even had any free time in which to take her to lunch last week, had he?

Though she did get through to his PA, and it was almost as if Ellen Rothwell had been instructed to put her through to him were she to ring, because the PA was most affable and informative when she apologised and said, ‘I’m sorry, Silas isn’t in right now. All being well, he should be in the office at some time between three and four if that’s any help?’

‘Thank you very much. I—er—may call back,’ Colly replied, and, unable to sit still, she left her car wishing that it was all over and done with.

As she walked aimlessly about so she started to blame him. It was all his fault that she was in this stew. If he had taken her at her word on Friday she would not now be wandering around fretting the pros and cons of his whole astonishing suggestion anyway.

Not that she had thought too deeply about his side of things. Though it was plain that Silas must be more than a little desperate to have put the preposterous proposal to her in the first place. He, with his forward planning, could see everything he and his father before him—and his grandfather too, come to that—had worked for going down the drain if his cousin got his hands on those controlling shares.

He knew his cousin better than she, who had never met him. But surely this Kit person was not so bad as all that? If he were, then would Grandfather Livingstone really change his will in the married Kit’s favour? She could not see it.

But suddenly then Colly was shocked into reconsidering. It had never dawned on her that she would be made homeless when her father died—but he had changed his will, hadn’t he? And, when she might have been forgiven for not expecting to be left destitute, he had left her not a penny.

Feeling a little stunned, Colly began to wish she had not started to think about this marriage proposal from Silas’s angle. Because now that she had she began to think of all those employees who would lose their livelihood, the shareholders who might have invested perhaps more than they could afford in the prosperous company—all of whom stood to suffer financially should Silas’s worst fears come to fruition. It was as weakening as knowing that she was about to be made homeless, and that come the weekend she could throw away her house keys for all the use they would be to her.

By half past two, while appearing outwardly calm, Colly had become so het-up from going over and over everything in her head that she just could not take any more. Neither could she marry him, and that was that, and the sooner she told him the better. She would phone again—oh, grief, with his tight schedule he would be too busy to take phone calls.

That was when she noticed that she was not all that far away from the Livingstone building. At five to three she was pushing through the plate glass doors.

While she knew where Silas Livingstone’s office was, there was a way of doing these things. And, anyhow, he might have someone in his office with him, which meant that she could not just bowl in there unannounced.

She went over to the desk. ‘I’m Columbine Gillingham,’ she told the receptionist. ‘Is it convenient to see…’ she got cold feet ‘…Ellen Rothwell?’

Her insides started to act up, and that was before the receptionist came off the phone to pleasantly say that Mrs Rothwell was expecting her. ‘You know the way?’

Colly hoped that by the time she reached Ellen Rothwell’s door she might have calmed down somewhat. But not a bit of it; she felt even more hot and bothered and was fast wishing that she had not come. She was recalling those steady dark blue eyes that had looked into hers—almost as if he could see into her soul.

I’m being fanciful, she scoffed. But her insides were still rampaging when she found Ellen Rothwell’s door and went in.

‘Silas isn’t back yet, but if you’d like to take a seat he won’t be long,’ Ellen informed her pleasantly.

Colly thanked her, but felt more like standing up and pacing up and down than sitting. But she went and took a seat, realising as she did so that, while it was highly unlikely Silas would have confided in his PA any of this very private business, it looked very much as if—appointments with him being like gold dust—he must have mentioned that he was prepared to take calls from Columbine Gillingham, and that if she appeared personally he would fit her in with his busy schedule somehow.

Then the outer door opened, and while her heart leapt into her mouth it quieted down again when she saw it was not the man she had come to see. This man was about the same age as Silas, and about the same tall height. But that was where any likeness ended. He was sandy-haired, and where Silas had a strong, rather nice-shaped mouth, this man’s mouth was weak—and that was before he opened it.

‘Ellen, lovely girl—is my cousin in?’ he wanted to know, his eyes skirting from her to make a meal of Colly.

‘Not yet,’ Ellen replied, but his attention was elsewhere as he turned his smile full beam on Colly.

‘Are you here to see Silas?’ he queried—and, before she could answer, ‘Kit Summers,’ he introduced himself, and held out his right hand.

It would have been churlish to ignore it. Colly shook hands with him—and wanted to pull her hand back when he held it over-long.

‘What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?’ Kit Summers asked flirtatiously.

Heaven help us! This man might be left to run the company! Colly caught Ellen doing an eye-roll to the ceiling, and felt a hysterical kind of laugh wanting to break loose.

Kit Summers was not at all put off that Colly did not answer, but, continuing to beam at her, suggested, ‘Look, Silas might not be back for ages—why don’t I take you for a cup of tea?’

Colly stared at him. This chinless wonder was married, yet by the look of it did not miss an opportunity to flirt. She was about to give him a cool, No, thank you, when Ellen Rothwell interceded.

‘Have you the figures Silas wanted?’ she enquired evenly.

That shook him sufficiently for him to take his eyes off Colly for a moment. ‘Hell, was it today he wanted them? Strewth, I’d better be going. Don’t tell him I was here,’ he said. ‘And deny any rumour you may have heard that I was on the golf course this morning!’ With that he was gone.

Colly sat there feeling stunned and with her insides churning. Silas’s cousin was a lightweight, and it showed. And if first impressions were anything to go by he was not fit to run any development company, much less an international one.

Then suddenly her mouth went dry. She heard sounds coming from the next-door office. If she wasn’t very much mistaken, Silas was back.