Meryl’s horror held her speechless. Then she thought, Another vanishing lady. No wonder he expects it.
‘Did you have an aunt or somebody like that to raise you?’ she asked.
‘No. Just my father.’
And after talking with Harry tonight Meryl knew the kind of man he had been: blunt, direct, even brutal, sure of his own rightness about everything. And Jarvis had grown up with only that harsh man and no softening influences. No wonder he relied so much on his dogs, she thought.
‘I never gave you a wedding gift,’ Jarvis said now, hesitantly. ‘I’ve been trying to think of something. You’re not an easy person to choose for. Perhaps you’d like to have this. It belonged to my mother.’
He took a tiny box from a drawer and opened it. Inside was a ring with one diamond. It was small and not of outstanding quality. Certainly it would be thrown into the shade by her glorious tiara, and she thought she knew why he hadn’t offered it before.
‘I should love to have your mother’s ring,’ she said gently. ‘Will you put it on for me?’ She held out her left hand, fingers extended, and he slipped the ring on for her.
‘Not quite what you’re used to,’ he said wryly.
‘No, it isn’t. But not in the way you mean. I’m not used to people giving me things, Jarvis. Mostly people get disheartened by the fact that I can buy my own. So I end up with nothing.’ She saw the faint quirk of his mouth and said, ‘OK, nothing except more money than I can count. In other words-nothing.’ She held up her hand to see the ring. ‘Nobody’s done anything like this for me, ever.’
‘I’m glad you like it.’
‘And I’m glad you like your picture.’
‘I’ll have it fixed up on the wall, right in that spot, facing the bed. Then I’ll see it as soon as I awaken. You’d better go to bed now. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.’
‘Goodnight, Jarvis.’
‘Goodnight, Meryl.’
In her room she undressed slowly, thoughtfully. Jarvis’s words about seeing the picture as soon as he awoke echoed in her head. If this had been a normal marriage
‘It can’t be helped,’ she told her reflection in the long mirror. ‘I’ve never yet fallen in love with a man who didn’t want me.’
The reflection gazed back wryly, telling her there was a first time for everything.
At the rear of Larne Castle, facing the sea, was the church, with its spire raised up tall and proud in the clear air. On the wedding morning the bells began to peal out early. Sixteen ringers had come over at low tide the night before, sleeping in chairs and couches, for the castle was packed to the roof, and eight of them had started ringing at eight that morning. After an hour they were relieved by the second eight, while they had their breakfast before returning to the fray.
The grey stone pillars of the seven-hundred-year-old church, reared up into the high vaulted roof, their austerity broken now by wreaths of flowers. Ten women had worked all yesterday and far into the night to deck the church with the blossoms of early summer. Now it was done, and the air was heady with the soft tangy smells of life and flowering.
Big as the church was, it could only just take the numbers that poured in next morning. High up in a loft, almost obscured by leaves, the organist played softly. The groom and best man were waiting. Jarvis kept his eyes on the far door through which he knew Meryl would arrive. The church was slightly raised above ground level, reached by five steps, and through the wide open doors he had a view of the sea stretching to the horizon, brilliant in the sunlight.
He hadn’t seen her that morning, nor tried to. The dream had fractured suddenly, and the full impact of what he was about to do had broken over him like the waves that crashed on Larne shore. He had come to this place of solemnity to take vows that no man should take except with his whole heart. And he was doing it for money. He was a man with a strict sense of propriety. Too strict, Ferdy had often told him. No man with such a conscience could survive in this day and age. Now he was doing something so dishonest that his whole soul revolted. For money.
But not for money alone. Meryl was there in his mind, turning her head so that her glorious hair swung free, and her face changed as he looked, one woman becoming another. He watched urgently to see if she changed back, but she vanished.
If he could only catch her at the crucial moment where her eyes were soft and her voice gentle, and find the spell that would make her remain that way for ever! This was the true woman, the one who threatened his heart. Or maybe the true woman was the other, the glossy sophisticated one, who could put on an act that would entrance him, who’d bought and paid for him financially, and wouldn’t be content until she had him emotionally too, as Sarah had warned.
And when she’d claimed her prey the enchantress would take wing from the top of the tower, vanish into the darkness and never be heard of again. Actually she would take wing from Manchester airport, and be heard of constantly in the glossy magazines. But in his state of morbid awareness it amounted to the same thing.
At any moment she would appear, the diamond tiara sparkling on her head, the luxurious dress flashing with jewels, ‘a rich man’s daughter’ come to claim her kingdom-until she tired of it.
A buzz of excitement came from near the entrance. Those who could see outside were smiling, turning to their neighbours, sending a frisson through the whole congregation. High overhead the organ pealed out ‘Here Comes The Bride’, and the next moment he saw her head and shoulders, rising slowly as she climbed the steps and stood for a moment silhouetted in the doorway as though she’d risen from the sea behind her.
The sun blinded him, and he had to blink, trying to make out who this woman was, because she bore no relation to the predatory female of his fears. As she began to move slowly down the aisle, her hand on Larry’s arm, Jarvis squinted, not daring to feel the hope that was rising madly within him.
No ‘rich man’s daughter’, but a wild flower whose beauty lay in grace and simplicity. Her black hair was worn loose, flowing down almost to her waist. She wore no veil, and no diamond tiara, only a spray of white flowers in her hair. More white flowers rested in her arms. Her wedding gown was made of some soft material that fell in straight lines to the floor. The effect was plain to the point of austerity, and utterly entrancing.
Behind her trotted six little girls dressed in blue satin, also decked with flowers. They were all from the estate, and Jarvis wondered when she’d found the time to meet them, and what instinct had made her get this so right.
He closed his eyes and opened them slowly. It was happening again, two women in one, the glossy creature blending into a sweet, gentle woman who had some secret understanding that sent her to her wedding without adornment except for the glow in her eyes.
Meryl, her gaze fixed on Jarvis, knew that she’d astonished him, as she’d hoped. For one moment his wariness was gone as he reached for her with a hand that enfolded hers warmly, eagerly. It was almost as though he would draw her to him. But then he remembered his surroundings.
They were to be married by the vicar of St Luke’s, the one who’d enlisted her for the fete. Two of his little daughters were among the bridesmaids, and he was smiling broadly at the task before him.
‘I require and charge you both, as you will answer at the day of judgement, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed…’
‘…if either of you know any impediment why ye may not lawfully be joined together in matrimony…’
Was it an impediment that she’d browbeaten him into marriage against his will, even though she had discovered at last that this was the man her heart had chosen? Was it an impediment that he disliked and distrusted her, and would be rid of her as soon as he could?
‘Jarvis Adrian Michael, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife-?’
Now she understood why Larry had protested against this ceremony. He’d looked ahead to the solemn vows for life and known that they were the last two people who should take them.
‘Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour and keep her…?’
But if Jarvis heard the irony in those words there was no sign of it in his voice as he said firmly,
