Jemma’s Version
It’s another peaceful morning in Denby. I find it hard to let Ashford leave the bed to go and have a shower, but I don’t want to deny myself the vision of his sculpted naked body as he heads to the bathroom.
I stretch out, sinking even deeper into the feather pillows. How long since I last slept in my room? I can’t say for sure: two, three weeks? A month?
I don’t know, I decided that I will no longer count the days, partly because it was all so sudden and confusing, partly for luck. In the past, I always kept count of the hours, days and weeks, but it never brought me good luck and, in the end, it always turned out that I was the only one who was emotionally involved; this time, I’m going to live every day to the full as if it were the first.
“You could come join me,” Ashford invites me under the pounding water.
I walk to the bathroom and sit in the big wicker peacock chair.
“What are you doing there?” He asks.
“There’s a splendid view from here,” I confess, flirtatiously. “If you also turned round a bit, it would be perfect.”
He obeys, amused. “I am at your command.”
“Don’t you find it degrading?” I ask him.
“I’ll tell you this: I’ve always thought that those women who marry rich men to improve their social status can’t have much self-respect.”
“How about you?”
“Well, having married a much richer woman and being at her mercy…” he says, walking out of the shower to join me, then spreading my crossed legs and kissing my inner thigh, he finishes his sentence: “… is the most arousing thing that has ever happened to me. Do you know what else I think?” He whispers, with his lips on my skin. “That what fits you best in the whole world is my surname. Nothing else, Lady Parker.”
As I abandon myself to him again, his mobile starts ringing insistently. Ashford ignores it at first, but it doesn’t stop and he decides to pick it up.
He disappears into the bedroom, and comes back to me after a short conversation.
“It was Derek,” he informs me. “He asked if we can meet him in his office today.”
*
I did nothing but ruminate on this, but to be honest, I can’t imagine why he called us in; I only hope that there’s no trouble with my money.
“When a solicitor calls, it’s hardly ever good news,” Ashford observes as we get in the lift.
Derek knows nothing about our relationship; we didn’t tell him in the same way we haven’t told our families. We don’t want the news to spread.
Oh my God? Did I call it a relationship? It sounds so strange but, after all, what else can I call it? Look at us: for the whole time we’re alone in the lift, he leans against the wall and holds me close to his chest, with his chin resting gently on my forehead.
Anyway, since we want to show ourselves as detached and independent as usual, before the lift dings, Ashford kisses the tip of my nose and lets me go.
“I tried to figure out what this could be about, but I can’t think of anything,” I sigh.
“Mr Wharton will receive you immediately,” announces the secretary, escorting us to the office.
“Jemma, Ashford, take a seat!” Derek greets us warmly. “Jemma, I see you’ve changed your appearance since the last time I saw you. Let me say you look gorgeous. In the end, Catriona’s inheritance benefited you.”
“Thank you. I worked on myself.”
“You did a really good job. And you, Ashford, you’re in excellent shape. Sorting out your problems with the banks must have given you back several hours of sleep.”
“Yes, but not too many. I like to keep myself busy.” So saying, Ashford gives me a suggestive look. “Derek, I have to say that your call was quite unexpected.”
“And yet, there was a real miracle, so I couldn’t help calling you.”
“A miracle? Didn’t you say that in the legal profession there’s no such thing as miracles, but only strategies?” I ask, sceptically.
“Yes, you’re absolutely right. I correct myself: it was an extraordinary event.”
“Go on, then,” I encourage him to explain himself.
“Yes, sure. When we last met, you settled your financial and inheritance issues with your marriage.”
“So far, so good… what then?” I start getting impatient.
“Of course, I never stopped analysing the Parkers’ financial situation and, until a few weeks ago, I still found some of your father’s investments very reckless, if not ridiculous—”
“For example?” Ashford doesn’t seem to tolerate Derek’s digressions, either.
“For example, sponsoring a bizarre, little known Russian artist in an abandoned school in Chipwick. This artist, Goran Tretiak, died a couple of weeks ago – either by overdose or suicide, it’s still not clear – and the value of his works went through the roof in no time. In New York, at Christie’s, one of them was auctioned for five million dollars. Here’s the deal: the duke Henry Parker, your father, was his patron and owned a large number of his works, which now belong to you, Ashford. A prominent London auction house has already come forward for two of the most recent ones.” Derek pauses, to let Ashford take the news in.
“So?”
“So, by selling Tretiak’s works, you will be able to repay the money Jemma lent you. You no longer have to carry on with the newly-weds comedy, aren’t you happy? In addition, the returns from your properties are definitely improving; without the holes in your bank accounts, you will be able to afford a more than wealthy lifestyle. It seems that the farce you had to stage will be shorter than expected.”
“Are you saying that we can bring forward our divorce?” I ask, to make sure I understood what he said.
Derek raises his hands in surrender. “Now that everything is solved, why not!” A victorious smile appears on his face. “Yes, I know, every time I called you, it was to give you unpleasant news or propose bizarre agreements, but there is no need to be embarrassed, this time. Take it as an opportunity for a fresh start!”
I don’t dare look at Ashford. I really wish I could look straight in his eyes and read what he thinks, but I don’t have the courage.
“I’m sure it’s good news for you, that’s why I’ve worked hard to make the procedure as fast as possible, and I’m already drafting your divorce papers. The sooner you go back to your own lives the better, right?”
“Um… I guess so,” I comment without enthusiasm.
“It’s really… amazing.” Ashford’s tone isn’t that excited, either.
Here’s the truth: this came as a cold shower.
We were so immersed in our ‘honeymoon’ that we had completely forgotten about the expiry date of our marriage, and this divorce thing has just hit me like a runaway train.
I know I should be jumping for joy, but that’s not how I feel. If I think about divorcing Ashford, a voice in my head shouts: ‘No, please, no’.
It didn’t start as a love story, we got married for convenience and we lived together under protest, but then something changed. We have changed, and now I can’t think of myself without him. I just don’t want to.
“Obviously, I’ll do everything to keep this from going public, this time.”
Ashford nods inexpressively. “Sure.”
Oh my God, is he okay with this? I’m in panic, I can’t swallow.
“Jemma, do you have anything to say?” Derek asks me.
I shake my head, my mouth is too dry to answer.
“Well, I’ll tell Jane to proceed with your file, then. You can’t even imagine how relieved I am for having solved your situation!”
“Derek, I think I can speak for both of us if I say that this news took us by surprise. We were not ready for it, and I’m sure you understand that, given that we expected it to last longer, we both arranged our lives to make them work at best. Perhaps, we need some time to implement this solution.”
Why am I terrified at every word I hear him say?
“What I’m saying, Derek, is that I really appreciate that you’ve been working to fix this mess, but forgive us if we don’t answer on the spot.”
Derek looks disorientated, but he tries to hide it. “Sure, of course! Jemma will need time to move to a property of her own, and you will also have some social commitments to attend… it’s most natural. It was my duty to inform you, but, in any case, I won’t proceed until I have official confirmation from you. I’ll wait for your instructions, even if I’m sure it won’t be a long wait.”
When we leave the office, I can barely wait for the lift doors to close before my eyes fill with tears. I turn my back to Ashford, because I don’t want him to see me. I don’t want him to think I’m sorry.
“I don’t know what to say,” are Ashford’s first words.
“Don’t say anything, then.” I reply, trying to keep my voice from breaking, in order to sound as cold as possible.
As soon as the lift gets to the ground floor, we storm out. I walk fast and Ashford keeps up with me.
“It’s over, then.” I say.
“So it seems.”
“This is what we wanted, isn’t it?” I try to sound somewhat convinced, but I’m as expressive as a food processor.
“Since day one.”
“And we’ve never thought about changing our minds,” I say, lacking conviction.
“Absolutely not.”
“Good.”
“Good,” he echoes.
What the hell. We’re back to the start.