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found it hard to come out with her answer in cold blood. She smiled at him a
little diffidently as he took her jacket.
'Could we talk a little?' she asked. 'Clear up a few points first?'
Harry turned away at once to pour sherry. 'Does this mean you have cold feet
about it all were my terms a bit off-putting?'
'Not really.' Frances accepted her glass and sipped a little before going on.
'Harry, you spoke last night of divorce, if ever I wanted it.'
'Yes.' He sat on the edge of the chair opposite and looked at her intently. 'I
meant it, I would release you any time you wished if things didn't work out.'
'But you seemed to assume that once we were married and had had
cohabited, pregnancy would automatically follow. It doesn't for everyone,
you know. I might not be able to deliver the goods, to be crude.' Frances
stared down into her glass, unable to meet his eyes.
'Frances,' he answered quietly. 'We have no way of knowing for certain
whether we will have children together if we marry. But personally I'm sure
of it. Why shouldn't we? We're both healthy, normal human beings.' He rose
and pulled her out of her chair, holding her hands in his. 'So give me a
straight answer, Frances. Is it yes or no?'
Frances met his eyes squarely. 'As long as you're going into this with your
eyes open, Harry, then it's yes.'
His grasp tightened. 'And Chris? He's not likely to form a shadowy third in a
menage a trois in our household when you marry me?'
'No, Harry, I promise. I'd be lying if I said he didn't still mean something to
me I've known him too long for that,' she said candidly. 'But from now on,
as far as I'm concerned, he's just an old friend who's someone else's
property. So if you still want me I shall be very honoured to marry you.'
Harry looked long and hard into her eyes, then smiled and held her close.
'When?' he demanded. 'How soon?'
'I don't know,' she said breathlessly. 'I hadn't got that far.'
Harry snatched up their glasses and proposed a toast. 'To us, Frances. To our
mutual happiness.'
'To us,' echoed Frances smiling, and drank with him, infected by his soaring
spirits.
'Oh, Frances.' He pulled her into his arms. 'Thank you. I'm very conscious of
my good fortune.'
'Talking of fortunes, I'll do my best to increase yours for you.'
'Ours, Frances, ours! And at this moment I don't care two hoots about any of
that. It's enough to know I'm going to have you by my side to help fight for
this place.' Harry checked suddenly. 'You do care for the house, don't you,
Frances. Understand how I feel?'
'Yes, Harry.' She gave him a whimsical smile. 'Though if I were the jealous
type I fancy it's not the fair Annabel I'd be worrying about it's Curthoys
Court!'
Harry laughed and took her in his arms again. 'Ah, but I can't kiss and
cuddle a house, Frances. In that area you win hands down.' And he picked
her up and sat down with her on his lap and proceeded to kiss her so
single-mindedly neither of them saw the door open or heard the rumble of
the dinner trolley as Mrs Bates wheeled it in.
'Mr Harry!' she exclaimed, scandalised.
Harry stood Frances on her feet, laughing at her scarlet face, then gave his
old nurse a hug. 'Congratulate us, Dolly we're going to be married.'
And a month later they were, though sometimes during the weeks
beforehand Frances was quite sure nothing would be ready on time.
Curthoys Court was opened to the public on Good Friday, as planned, the
church included, since Harry had decided to take advantage of Don Ryder's
unsolicited publicity and reap some benefit from it. Before that there was
the family get-together when Charlotte, Harry's sister, and her husband,
James Colville, plus Matt and Jassy, came for the weekend, and Harry
invited a few local friends in for drinks on the Sunday to meet the bride and
her family.
Charlotte Colville was an older, feminine version of Harry, to Frances's
relief, and very pleased about the wedding. 'About time the poor old darling
had someone nice to keep him company in this place,' she declared, and
hauled Harry and Frances off to the telephone to ring their mother in the
States, resulting in a disjointed, happy conversation with Nadine Bancroft,
who was unashamedly wild with excitement over the news, and promised to
be at the Court well in time for the big day.
The conversation over the dinner table between them all that weekend was a
lively, animated affair, with everyone getting on very well with each other,
particularly after consumption of the very fine burgundy James had brought
as a present for the occasion.
'Are you wearing white?' Charlotte asked Frances at one stage.
'Of course,' said Harry promptly, and turned gratefully to Matt Wilding. 'It's
very good of you, sir, to let us have the ceremony here instead of in
Warwickshire with you.'
Matt smiled at his daughter's glowing, happy face, 'It would have been
rather a shame to deprive your people locally of a Curthoys wedding.
Besides, I know Frances prefers it this way.'
'Indeed I do,' she agreed, and cast a mischievous glance at her
husband-to-be. 'Particularly since I coaxed Harry to let us have the
ceremony in the family church.'
James Colville chuckled. 'Pity you couldn't sell tickets, Harry, with a bride
and that famous tomb for attractions.'
'James has no romance in his soul,' said his wife sadly, and leaned towards
Jassy. 'The date won't clash with your big day, I hope?'
'No, no it's weeks before his nibs is due to put in an appearance,' Jassy
laughed. 'My main problem will be finding some kind of designer silk tent to
wear; 1'm getting rounder by the day!'
Frances and Jassy did their shopping together, armed with the money Matt
gave his daughter for a wedding present, since she was moving into a house
where literally nothing was necessary in the way of furnishings and
ornaments to start her new life. Frances had never had so much to spend at
one time in her life before, but even so chose her trousseau with great care,
with an eye to practicability in the future. Even her wedding dress was not
the fairy-tale confection her father had in mind, as the frilled taffeta
creations offered to Frances just didn't suit her.
'Need to be tall, Jassy,' she sighed, and tried on ivory organza instead.
Ankle-length, with a floating skirt hemmed with satin ribbon and a tucked
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