Jennifer's P.O.V:
I knew this was probably true, but I couldn't shake the little nagging worry at the back of my mind. 'I suppose you're right', I said dubiously.
He gave me an appraising look. 'It's the deception that bothers you, isn't it'?
I nodded.' I suppose so. Margaret may be a bully, but she really does care about me. I don't like to deliberately deceive her. Or William'.
'Just don't lie to them', he said, moving further into the center of the floor. 'Let them draw their own conclusions'.
It was more crowded here, and I felt myself being pushed from behind towards Matthew, so my body was soon molded firmly up against his long length. The sudden unexpected intimacy gave me a strange breathless sensation.
I glanced up at him through my heavily fringed eyelashes, but he seemed to be staring off into space, preoccupied, lost in a world of his own. Someone jostled me again from behind, and I stumbled awkwardly. His arm tightened around me, his palm flat against my back as he pulled me close in a protective way. I could feel the tips of his fingers resting on my bare back, just above the low cut bodice, and a brilliant wave of warmth swept over me.
Suddenly, I thought about the night I had driven him home from Margaret's dinner party. He had been drunk, I knew and had forgotten what he'd done until I reminded him the next day. I believed I had put it out of my own mind. Now, however, as he held me, I remembered it all quite clearly, the way his mouth had felt on me, his hand on my breast, and the intensity of my feeling astonished me.
I pulled away slightly and gave him a more direct look. His face was grim and set, but he appeared to be entirely unmoved by the close contact. 'Can we go back to the table now'?' I pleaded. 'This crowd is getting to me'.
He nodded and we started to make our way around the dancing couples back to our table. He wasn't touching me now, but I was quite conscious that he was right behind me and almost painfully aware of the strong body that pressed up against me momentarily from time to time.
After that I danced once with a beaming William, delighted as he put it, to see me 'come out of my shell at last'.
Sitting at the table between dances, I was uncomfortably conscious of the hostile glances shot my way by a disgruntled Lara Jones.
Throughout the rest of the evening, Matthew was attentive and courteous. He chatted easily with the others, danced with each woman in turn, and seemed more relaxed than I had ever seen him before. Then I realized, too, that I'm also felt more at ease in a social situation than I had since Richard's death. the others seemed to accept my fictitious 'relationship' with Matthew easily and naturally, just as he had predicted.
As we drove home later, he seemed as remote and contained as ever, treating me with an aloof courtesy that finally put my apprehensions to rest.
On our way up in the elevator to the apartment, I asked him if he had noticed Margaret's speechless reaction to our appearance at the ball together. He was vastly amused.
'Yes', he said with a smile. 'Poor Margaret'.
I snorted as we walked down the hall to my door. 'Poor Margaret, nothing! She deserved it'. Putting my key in the lock, I turned to him now, suddenly shy. It was an awkward moment. Surely, I decided finally, the terms of our agreement didn't include late-night chit-chat alone in my apartment.
'Well, goodnight, then, Jennifer, he said easily after I had stepped inside and turned on the light. It's been an enjoyable evening'.
'Yes it has', I murmured. 'Thank you very much'.
Without another word, he was gone. Perversely, now that he had made the decision to leave, I felt a little disappointment. I went into the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. I glanced over Richard's photo, the laughing dark eyes, the infectious grin, the smooth hair, and wondered how I could ever have thought that first night that there was any resemblance between Matthew Smith and my lovely husband. Except that they were both tall, well-built, they were as different as two men could be. For one thing, Richard had been several years younger, not yet thirty, with a boyish charm and outgoing personality. Matthew was at least thirty-six, I guessed, and much more reserved. He seldom even smiled, and then never with his eyes.
A familiar ache began to grow in my heart, a powerful longing to have Richard's arms around me again, to feel him lying beside me in the cold empty bed. our life together had been perfect, I thought now As my tears welled up. Richard had been a sweet gentle lover, and I had responded to him the only man in my life like a trusting child.
I shivered a little, then, as the image of Matthew Smith intruded, stern and impressive. Surprising me with its intensity, the thought leaps into my mind that this man would be a far more demanding and imperious lover than my husband.
Well, I thought, as I undressed and got into bed, I'd never find out if that was true. He had made it quite clear that he meant what he said in his original proposition. Our relationship was to be a mutual defense against other entanglements, a social convenience, and that was all.
In the weeks that followed, I saw Matthew at least once a week when he was in town. Like all elected officials, he had to do a great deal of traveling and was often gone for several days at a time.
Even when he was gone, however, our arrangement protected me. It was common knowledge in New
York social circles by now that they were always paired off. There had been one or two thinly veiled items about us in the gossip column of the large daily newspaper, and our exclusive relationship seemed to be an accepted fact.
I found this protection a great relief. I no longer had to make excuses to Margaret as to why she didn't want to go out with the latest eligible man my sister unearthed. When Matthew was gone, I could now go to parties unescorted without bringing down Margaret's wrath. Senators were quite highly placed in the hierarchy of power in New York, both politically and socially, and once it became known that Mathew and I had some kind of attachment, I became off-limits for the predators that prowled around the fringes of the capital's social scene.
We did everything together, attending any event that arose where I needed an escort or he needed a female companion. our Appearances remained public, however. We never went anywhere alone. He had never set foot in my apartment again, even though we only lived three floors away from each other.
Our 'arrangement' had been in effect for about three months when it began to dawn on me that although they exchanged a great deal of information about each other, I didn't really know him any better now that she had at the beginning.
I knew I liked him, liked being with him, but he seemed to have erected invisible barriers around the core of himself, barriers I was too sensitive to try to breach. I had barriers of my own, I had to admit at last, and was satisfied with things as we were, for the most part.
Still, when at odd times he simply withdrew and the grey eyes took on an even more distant look, or in the middle of a conversation he would suddenly be gone, I couldn't help feeling a little hurt. I could only surmise that he still missed his wife, and would think of that evening in his apartment when he had mistaken me for Beth. It was hard to believe that this remote stranger was the same man who had held me then with such a depth of passion and desire.
It was April now, spring at last. The dingy remnants of winter's ice and snow had melted, the cherry blossoms were in bloom, and on sunny days women had begun tentatively to appear on the streets in colorful summery dresses.
Margaret came into town on Monday for her weekly shopping Expedition, and I had agreed to have lunch with her. I had suggested cooking a meal for her, but Margaret firmly vetoed that plan. Margaret's trips into the city were primarily information- gathering forays. In order to keep current with the latest gossip, it was essential to see and be seen, and that meant a compulsory appearance at one of the more fashionable restaurants in town.
We met there at noon, and now that I was no longer the target of Margaret's battle plans, I found myself watching her with admiration. All the while she carried on a chatty running commentary about which couple was on the verge of divorce, which congressman was in trouble with his constituency, which cabinet member was about to resign.
The restaurant was half-empty by now, Margaret said briskly, 'tell me what you've been up to'.
'Oh, the usual', I replied. 'Working hard. I got a new commission from a store in Baltimore'. I had been thrilled when the offer came, my first from out of town.
'Oh, work', Margaret said, 'I mean you and Matthew'.
I tensed immediately and forced a smile. 'You just saw us last week. Nothing has changed since then'.
'What do you mean by that'? Margaret said. 'Please define for me the "nothing" that hasn't changed'.
'Oh, really'? Margaret, we've been all over this before. Matthew and I are just friends we enjoy each other's company. I knew I was on shaky ground. Discussing my personal life with Margaret was something like picking one's way through a minefield. One wrong word and I'd set off an explosion of questions and unwanted advice.
'Oh, really'? Margaret said. 'Well, then, I'd say you'd either better get beyond the point of friendship with him or find someone else'. She eyed me with suspicion, 'I have the distinct feeling you're hiding something from me. There's more going on between you and Senator Matthew Smith than mere friendship'.
I flushed guiltily, thinking about the odd mutual protective society Matthew & I were involved in.' Well, I muttered, at last, that's our business, isn't it'?
Margaret set down her fork. 'I knew it, it's serious, isn't it? Oh, darling, I'm so happy for you'.
I was aghast. Margaret had completely misunderstood me. 'You're jumping to conclusions, as usual, Margaret', I said in a Positive tone. 'I'm going to say it just once more Matthew and I are friends. That's all'.
'I don't believe you', came the firm reply. 'I know you. You were the same with Richard, wouldn't tell me a thing until you were ready to announce your engagement'. I opened my mouth to protest again, but Margaret raised a hand, 'that's all right. You don't have to say a word. You always were a deep one'.
'I'm telling you the truth', I said weakly. Margaret reached across the table then and covered my hand with hers. 'It's all right, darling', she said with real affection. 'I only want you to be happy. Don't worry I won't interfere and spoil It for you'.
'Margaret, you're way ahead of yourself. Please, believe me... .'
'Of course, darling, not another word'. She glanced at her watch. 'OH, dear, I must run. We're having guests for dinner and I have a million things to do'.
I had a light supper alone in my apartment that night. I sat on a stool at the kitchen counter over a bowl of soup, leafing through the evening paper. I hardly ever read the news articles in any depth, but I like to skim over the fashion illustrations to see what the competition was doing.
The most important of these were on the society page, my eye was suddenly caught by my name in the lead item of the most persistent and outrageous Of the gossip columnists.
"All New York is on pins and needles to see when wedding bells will chime for the charming senator from Maryland, Matthew Smith and his constant companion the lovely young widow, Jennifer Davis.
Mrs. Davis is the sister-in-law of William Green, a prominent member of the President's Personal staff".
I blanched as I read the article over again more carefully. really, this was too much! Wasn't it an invasion of privacy? I felt naked, exposed, humiliated. But what could I do? Call the paper and demand a retraction?
I threw down the paper and began pacing the room. 'Constant companion!' I knew quite well what that meant. I stopped at a dreadful suspicion came to me. Would Margaret have done such a terrible thing? Given that damned columnist' inside information', information she had dreamed up herself? No, Margaret would never go that far. Besides, what difference did it make? The damage was done now anyway. OH, I'd like to throttle that columnist, what a despicable way to make a living! Victimizing people like that, smearing their names with lies, ruining reputations, spoiling innocent relationships.
That was the worst of it, I realized. The pleasant arrangement with Matthew was tarnished, irrevocably spoiled. I could never be seen with him again, I knew, without the terrible thought that everyone in New York believed we were having an affair. My reputation was ruined, and certainly, it wouldn't do Matthew's career any good to be publicly branded that way.
The doorbell rang. Still angry, I flounced to the door and flung it open. Matthew was standing there, solemn-faced, a newspaper in his hand.
'I see you've read it, I said bitterly, Come in'.
I heard the door close quietly, then the sound of his footsteps behind me. When I whirled around to face him, the expression on his face was unreadable, the grey eyes Stony.
'I know what you're thinking', I began, calming myself with an effort, 'and I'm sure it wasn't Margaret'.
He drew in a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. 'Do you have anything to drink'? He asked.
'I don't see how you can stand there so calmly', pointing at the newspaper he was carrying, 'when both our reputations are ruined'.
'Calm down, Jennifer', he said, advancing slowly towards me, 'and let's talk about it. May I sit down'?
He seemed to be taking it so coolly, I thought, as I gestured impatiently toward the long rust-colored sofa. Perhaps it wasn't as bad as I thought. He spread out the newspaper on the coffee table in front of him and gazed down at it, ignoring me.
I went into the kitchen and poured us both a stiff scotch and soda. Maybe I had overreacted, as I brought the drinks back into the living room. I handed him his glass and sat down beside him, waiting to hear what he had to say.
He took a long swallow of scotch, then turned to me, 'I was expecting something like this. Several people have given me pretty broad hints lately about the status of our...' He hesitated, then smiled fleetingly, 'Our affair'.
'But there is no affair', I protested you're a senator. Can't you call that columnist and make him retract the statement? "Constant companion!" You know what that means, don't you'?
'Yes, he replied evenly. 'I know what that means'.
I jumped on my feet and began to pace the room. 'Well, the whole thing has backfired. When I agreed to your proposition, I had no idea that people would get the impression we were.... Were . . . lovers'. I glared at him accusingly. 'I've taken great pains since Richard's death to preserve a good reputation. That's not easy to do in this town especially when you have Margaret throwing men at you, and now. ..'
'Sit down, Jennifer', his voice rang out with authority. I stopped my pacing and stared at him, wide-eyed, shocked at his tone. 'Please', he said in a gentler voice. I obeyed and sank slowly down beside him on the sofa, gazing sullenly at my drink.
'I think I have a solution', he said at last. 'We'll get married'.
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I know the last 2 chapters were long, I hope you 'll like them
waiting for your comments & vote