The Marriage Bond

by Denise Robins

Genres: Romance

Synopsis

Beautiful, rich and impulsive, Gay Northiam's life is a fun filled whirl of dinners and dances. Captivated by her vivacious charm and exquisite looks, a flock of eligible and handsome suitors leave her with few blank pages in her engagement diary. Dick Morton, a young doctor, is just one of many smitten admirers. But Gay is not yet ready to fall in love not while life is such fun. All this changes, however, when Gay meets Geoffrey Daunt, a respected and successful barrister and confirmed bachelor: For the first time ever Gay knows the pain of unrequited love and, too late, discovers what it is to suffer a broken heart.

Release date: November 6, 2014

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 400

Sample

GAY NORTHIAM sat alone in the library of her charming home in Knightsbridge examining the contents of the little grey suède diary on her knee, and making notes in it now and then with a tiny gold pencil.

It was only ten o’clock, but Gay’s father retired early. She felt only a shade more bored now that she was alone than she had felt when Mr. Northiam was with her. She hated an evening at home, anyhow. But since she had been out at a dance every other night this week she had felt it her duty to remain for once with the old man who had pampered and spoiled her ever since her mother’s death, three years ago.

‘To-morrow is Saturday,’ said Gay to herself, her fine silky brows drawn together. ‘Dine with Lady Chalmers and meet Geoffrey Daunt, the rising barrister of the day. I’m looking forward to that. I want to meet the famous Geoffrey. Lunch. …’

She pursed her lips and looked at the name scribbled in her diary next to the word ‘lunch’—‘Dick’ …

‘I was stupid to promise to lunch with Dick,’ she muttered. ‘That boy’s getting too difficult to handle. I shall phone him in the morning and put him off.’

Deliberately she struck out the name ‘Dick,’ and in its place wrote ‘Stephen Winchester.’ Stephen had begged her to lunch with him to-morrow, and he was much more fun than Dick. He was older, more experienced, satirical, and ugly in the way that attracts a woman. And if he were in love with her, he at least knew how to put a curb on his emotions and be a ‘pal,’ which Dick Morton refused to be.

Dick was becoming a nuisance. He dogged her footsteps—haunted her, besought her desperately to marry him, whenever he got the chance to see her alone. Of course Gay knew quite well she had flirted with Dick … she flirted with most men, and they all adored her. But she did not expect them to behave like Dick. He was a headstrong, foolish boy.

Gay yawned and put her diary and pencil on the table. She stood a moment before the fire, thinking; looking a very perfect product of the modern age in an exquisite powder-blue georgette dinner-frock, with sleek silk stockings to tone, and high-heeled shoes. She was more like a child of seventeen than a girl of twenty-three, but that air of extreme youth, coupled with all the wisdom and sophistication of a young woman of the day, was her chief attraction. Her head was charming; red-brown hair ‘shingled’ showing the pretty shape of the head at the back, and curling naturally over the small ears. She had wide-set eyes, brilliant blue, and darkly shadowed by thick black lashes, and a small red mouth with rather a spoiled, scornful curve to the upper lip. On the whole she was beautiful; short, slender, exquisitely built. But she would have been much more beautiful had there been a softer expression in those brilliant eyes which were hard as jewels.

Just as she was about to walk across the room, turn out the lamps, and go up to bed, the front-door bell rang. Gay stood still by the fire, frowning. Who could that be at this time of night? She heard the parlour-maid open the door; then a man’s voice, inquiring for Miss Northiam. Her face flushed angrily.

‘Dick!’ she said to herself. ‘How dare he come here pestering me like this! But Parkins won’t let him in without asking me.’

Parkins, however, was not given the chance to ask her young mistress whether she would see the unwelcome visitor or not. Dick Morton marched straight into the library, passed the surprised and offended maid, and confronted the girl who stood before the fire.

‘Gay!’ he said, breathing quickly, as though he had been running. ‘So you are in—and alone. What luck for me! Parkins didn’t want to let me in, but I had to see you. Gay, you aren’t cross with me, are you?’

‘I must say I am astonished at your lack of good manners,’ she said very coldly. ‘Is it quite “the thing” to thrust yourself into anyone’s house at ten o’clock at night without permission?’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to come, but the whole evening I’ve been thinking of you and I couldn’t go to sleep until I’d seen you for a few minutes, Gay.’

She moved her head impatiently.

‘Dick, you behave like a love-sick fool, and really I can’t stand any more of it. I’ve told you that I won’t marry you—I won’t marry any man unless I fall in love and he has plenty of money.’

Dick Morton stood still a moment, staring at her. He was a good-looking boy—fair and clean-cut, but his face was haggard, to-night, drawn about the mouth and eyes. An older woman than Gay might have noticed that drawn look and treated him with tactful kindness. He was very near the end of his tether. But Gay only felt annoyed because he was ‘so silly.’ She was not the least impressed by the fact that he had not slept properly for weeks or eaten sufficient food, because he was madly, terribly in love with her, with the sort of passionate ‘calf-love’ that eats up a boy’s heart and soul. She was unsentimental and unromantic. She had no patience with excess of emotion in anybody.

Dick’s eyes—strained and unhappy—wandered over her, finally resting on her mouth.

‘I wonder if you will ever marry any man,’ at last he said. ‘You are so terribly hard to please.’

She shrugged her shoulders.

‘Nonsense! Now, my dear Dick, do go home and be sensible and don’t make me angry with you.’

He came nearer her and caught at her hand.

‘Gay, be kind—don’t you realize what I’m suffering over you?’

‘That’s your fault, not mine, Dick. I can’t help it if I don’t want to marry you.’

‘But why won’t you? I worship you—I’d do anything on earth for you.’

‘It’s very nice of you, my dear,’ she said more kindly, ‘but really you couldn’t do what I want.’

He bit his lip. Passionate misery surged over him. Ever since he had met Gay Northiam at a dance, last Christmas, he had been hopelessly in love with her. He might have known it was useless believing she would ever marry him. She had been spoiled and petted all her life, and plenty of men wanted Gay in vain. She was the sort to need money—luxuries. Dick was only a medical student, finishing his training at Guy’s. His small private income, added to what he might possibly earn as a doctor with a modest practice, would never content Gay. Yet why had she given him any encouragement? Much as he loved her he was bound to admit that she had flirted with him very heartlessly in the beginning, when he had been novel and amusing. Now, after three months of his devotion, she was bored with him.

His fingers tightened over the small hand he was clinging to in such a desperate fashion.

‘Gay,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Give me a chance. Tell me you will go on seeing me. I shan’t be at the hospital much longer. When my training finishes I have to go back to Epsom, to my sister, because she has nobody in the world but me.’

‘My dear Dick, I think it much better that you don’t see me any more,’ she said. ‘As a matter of fact I am not going to lunch with you to-morrow. I’m lunching with Stephen Winchester.’

The boy’s face whitened.

‘Gay, you can’t be so cruel—’

‘One has to be cruel sometimes to be kind.’

‘But there was a time when you allowed me to take you out everywhere—to be always with you,’ he cried. ‘Gay, Gay, have you forgotten last New Year’s Eve … when you kissed me? Oh, my God, if you knew how much I’ve wanted you to kiss me again—like that.’

She flushed and wrenched her hand away.

‘I hate being reminded of things I’ve done months ago,’ she snapped. ‘I’m very sorry I ever did see so much of you or kiss you. Apparently you can’t control your feelings at all.’

‘That’s not just, Gay,’ he said in an agonized voice. ‘I love you with all my heart and soul—I simply can’t forget you—and how sweet you used to be to me.’

Gay tapped one small foot on the polished floor and her lashes lowered. Her brilliant eyes were dark with anger. She was angry with herself, as well as with Dick. She knew she had been much too ‘sweet’ to him in the beginning. When first she had met him he had been a bright, ambitious young student who had afforded her a certain amount of amusement because he danced well and was a cheery companion. But she regretted the ‘soft moments’ when she had allowed him to kiss her in the taxi, coming home, or flirted with him at all. He had taken it too seriously. His dog-like devotion had become wearisome. And she did not really think she had been cruel. She had never been caught in the web of reckless, flaming passion, herself; never met a man she could love; always flirted lightly and idly, refusing to accept the responsibility of any ‘broken hearts.’

‘Dick, do be sensible and go home and forget all about me,’ she said at last, raising her lashes. ‘I’m not going to allow you to come here and upset me.’

‘I don’t think anything could upset you—you have no feelings!’ he flung at her.

‘You are going to be rude?’ Her eyes narrowed.

‘It’s true,’ he said. ‘You are cruel and heartless, Gay. You are kind to a man just as long as it pleases you—and you don’t mind how much suffering you cause.’

‘After that, Dick, you can go,’ she said.

‘No, Gay—forgive me——’ his voice broke and he seized her hand again. ‘I’m half out of my mind about you.’

‘I really don’t want to listen to you, Dick. You are being unreasonable—and rude. Do go home. I want to go to bed.’

He looked at the lovely little red-brown head, the piquante face with the pointed chin and the blue eyes that flashed such cold anger at him. And suddenly he lost his head. He put his arms around her and dragged her to his breast, holding her in a grip that made her wince.

‘Gay, I love you … I love you … if you won’t love me even a little bit, I shall kill myself,’ he said passionately.

‘Let me go—at once, Dick.’

‘Not till I’ve kissed you,’ he said. ‘Oh, yes, I know this is the end—that you’ll never forgive me—but I’ve dreamed of you in my arms night after night until I’ve felt mad—mad—and I am going to kiss you now!’

‘Dick!’ she gasped, furious and amazed.

But his arms held her like steel bands and she could not move. He locked her lips with a burning kiss that made her blanch and shiver. It was a long, ruthless kiss of the most terrible, unrequited passion. The boy was really half insane, for this girl with her beauty, her gaiety, her allure, had made, him forget his work, his ambitions, everything except the overwhelming desire to be ever at her side.

How long the kiss lasted, Gay scarcely knew, but when Dick raised his head, she gave a little indignant gasp, and the colour surged back to her cheeks. Violently she wrenched herself from his arms.

‘Go!’ she said in a trembling voice. ‘Go … this minute … leave this house … and don’t ever let me see you again.’

He was white, panting, hands clenched.

‘Gay—forgive me—I was mad, but you——’

‘Go,’ she repeated.

He gave one stricken look at her, then turned and stumbled out of the library. She stood still until she heard the front door close. Then she dropped weakly into a chair, pushing back her curls with a trembling hand.

‘How dared he——’ she muttered.

But as she sat there in the silence, patting her disordered hair and wiping the lips Dick Morton had bruised with that terrible kiss of hopeless passion, a little twinge of compunction—almost of fear—gripped her heart. She had flirted with that boy—played with his affections. He was a young fool, but in a way, she was to blame, and she was sorry about it. He had really looked dreadful! Would he go straight home to his rooms? What would he do? She began to wish she had dealt less hardly with him. After all, he had no thought in life save her—poor Dick!

But finally she shrugged her shoulders and put the memory of him away from her.

Outside in the dark mist of the February night, Dick Morton staggered away from the Northiams’ house like one drunk. He was literally drunk with misery, with bitter despair.

He would never see Gay again. Well, the only thing to do was to try and forget her. To-morrow he would go down to Epsom to his sister, Enid. Enid was his only living relative and she adored him. He would pour out his troubles to her. She already guessed that he was in the throes of a passionate love affair—without knowing the name of Gay Northiam.

‘Gay, Gay, cruel, beautiful Gay,’ he muttered to himself, as he walked with those tired, uncertain steps to the corner of the road. ‘Oh, my love, if only you had loved me!’

He stepped across the road. The night was misty and he did not look where he was going. His mind was full of Gay and the hopelessness of his love. A big car swung round the corner and came upon him before he realized that it was there. The driver hooted and pulled up sharply. But it was too late … the car skidded, and the left mud-guard caught Dick … flung him down. He gave one brief cry of agony … then there was silence and darkness … a long, long peace from the frantic striving and anguish of this life came to him. …

THE private dance at Lady Chalmers’ house in Cadogan Square was just commencing. The delightful reception-room, decorated with shell-pink malmaisons and delicate smilax looked most inviting with its pretty subdued lighting and shining floor.

Gay Northiam strolled through the hall from the dining-room to the ball-room beside Geoffrey Daunt, the noted young barrister in whose honour Lady Chalmers had given this dinner and dance to-night.

Gay was looking her best; her face flushed, her eyes like sapphires; her pretty black frock scintillating at every step when the lights caught the sequins.

She had thoroughly enjoyed the dinner. She had found Geoffrey Daunt one of the most interesting men she had ever met.

He was quiet and clever; a man of strong personality. Of medium height and slim build, he at the same time gave one the impression that he was immensely powerful. There was strength in the clean-cut mouth and chin; in the thin hands with wrists flexible and hard as steel. His good looks were undeniable, and Gay admired him more than she had admired any man. She liked his deep-set dark hazel eyes with their keen, steady expression; his smooth brown head; his well-bred voice. She could imagine him going far … doing great things … and at the same time his lack of interest in women, his obvious devotion to his work at the Bar, intrigued her—roused her vanity. Here was a man who would not idly flirt with her; and a man whose affections would be well worth winning. He had everything a woman could want; he was rich; already, at the age of thirty-four, he was a barrister of note, and he was a bachelor with no ties. Lady Chalmers had told Gay all about him before introducing them.

He, on his part, knew something of Gay. He had been warned that she was a dangerously attractive little person and a heartless flirt. But he was not in the least afraid of her. He considered himself adamant to feminine charms and wiles. At the same time, during dinner he had been forced to admit Gay’s allure. She was the most beautiful, vivacious creature he had ever seen.

When they reached the ball-room, he paused and looked down at her.

‘May I dance this with you?’ he asked.

‘Thank you—with pleasure,’ she smiled.

He put an arm around her and guided her out on to the polished floor. He found her as light as a fairy, and at the same time her dancing was full of vitality and warmth.

‘What an attractive child she is,’ he thought. ‘And what a pity she is so fond of victimizing my sex—it’s rather a heartless pastime.’

Had he but known it, Gay was somewhat a repentant sinner this evening. Her thoughts were continually turning to Dick Morton … the delightful dance was overshadowed by the knowledge that he had met with such a terrible and sudden end. She had been shocked and unnerved to read in the papers this morning of the ‘accident’ to the young medical student in Knightsbridge last night. From that moment onward she had known no peace of mind, wondering whether it was an accident. Dick had left her house in a state bordering on insanity. Had he deliberately thrown himself under that car? If so, she was morally responsible for his death. It was a terrible thought, and she shuddered whenever it crossed her mind. She tried to forget it … to feel that the papers were correct when they stated that ‘the unfortunate young man had been accidentally run over and killed.’ But she was haunted by the memory of his white, despairing face—that last kiss he had pressed on her lips.

He had been killed instantaneously. He was so young, so vital … it was horrible … and she had not been kind! Little wonder she was troubled … secretly horrified at the possibility that her young lover had committed suicide.

Geoffrey Daunt, looking down at his partner’s face, saw the shadow in her eyes, and guessed that her gaiety was a trifle forced.

‘The child has something on her mind,’ he reflected. ‘I wonder what it is. …’

Aloud he said:

‘How wonderfully you dance, Miss Northiam.’

Gay forgot Dick Morton and his untimely end. She smiled up at the barrister with genuine pleasure.

‘Do you really think so?’

‘I do,’ he said.

‘You dance very well, too, Mr. Daunt.’

‘Oh, no—I’m rather an old stick at these shows. But any man would dance well with you for a partner.’

His frank, quiet admiration pleased the girl. She was enjoying her evening more every moment. And at the end of the dance Geoffrey Daunt found himself delivering her into the hands of her next partner quite reluctantly.

He stood in the doorway with his hostess, smoking and watching Gay whirl round the room in the arms of Lord Chalmers. Lady Chalmers, glancing at him, saw the interest in those deep eyes of his.

‘Mr. Daunt, I do believe you are going to follow in the footsteps of all the men I introduce to Gay Northiam,’ she said in a teasing voice.

‘Now what do you mean by that, I wonder,’ he said, with a slight flush.

‘Don’t you find her charming?’

‘Yes, very,’ he admitted. ‘I think she is quite unique.’

‘She is,’ nodded Lady Chalm. . .