Untold Sorrow

Proposition -Part 1

Jennifer P.O.V

By the time we had had a drink and finished our lunch, the Senate Dining Room was virtually empty. At a table across the room, three solemn-faced men were deep in conversation, and at two or three other tables couples still sat lingering over a late lunch. The waiters had all disappeared.

Matthew and I sat at a table near a window viewing the city during lunch we had chatted pleasantly about the concert last night, my work and Matthew's position on various Political issues, all on an impersonal, courteous plane.

He was good company, I thought now watching him as he leaned back and lit a Cigarette. Ordinarily, I found politics boring, but Matthew brought a personal note into the discussion that made it come alive for me. Also, he knew How to listen. He really paid attention to me when I spoke about my own work and never made it sound trivial or merely an idle feminine pastime.

We had been silent now for some moments, finishing up our coffee, and I had the odd feeling that he was studying me, debating within himself. Then I began to wonder if there wasn't more to the unexpected luncheon invitation than mere social courtesy.

Finally, he seemed to make up his mind about something. He ground out his cigarette and leaned slightly towards me, his elbows on the table, his expression grave.

'You may have wondered why I asked you to come today', he began slowly.

'A little', I admitted, meeting the steady grey gaze.

'I have a Proposition for you', he said, watching me carefully. I couldn't hide the sudden look of alarm that flitted across my face, and he held up a hand, frowning slightly. 'Not that kind of proposition', he said.

I clutched my handbag in my lap and waited. What could he be leading up to?

He exhaled deeply and leaned back in his chair. 'You and I don't know Each other very well', he went on in a serious tone, 'but in our brief acquaintance I've come to believe that we have one important thing in common'. He paused.

'Go on', I said after a moment. 'What's that'?

His mouth quirked in a wry smile. 'Let's say we're both-emotionally adrift'. He shook his head. 'I don't quite know how to put it'.

'You're doing fine so far', I said evenly, wondering what was Coming.

'All right, then, to put it bluntly, I get the impression that you're as tired of, shall we say, importunate escorts, as I am of...' He broke off.

I smiled 'Of possessive women'? I finished for him.

He Nodded. 'You could put it that way,' he said drily.

I relaxed visibly. I looked down at the table and began toying idly with my fork. 'You're right', I

Said with a sigh. 'At least you don't have Margaret pushing them at you'.

'No, but there are plenty of substitutes only too eager to fill that function for Me. Sometimes I wonder if romance is all middle-aged matrons have on their mind'.

'It's high on their list of priorities, at any rate', I said with a little Laugh. 'Well, then, what's your proposition? Shall we join forces and take out an advertisement in the New York Times? I can see it now:

"Mrs. Jennifer Davis and Senator Matthew Smith hereby respectfully request all matchmakers and marriage brokers to back off." Is that what you have in mind'?

Matthew smiled with obvious amusement. 'Nothing quite that drastic, but I do suggest we join forces'. He sobered. 'Tell me, honestly, Jennifer, do you think you'll ever fall in love again? Want to marry again'?

Immediately, without even having to consider, I shook my head slowly from side to side. 'No Never'.

'Never is a long time', he said softly. 'You're still a young woman. A very attractive woman', he added as an afterthought.

I frowned, trying to think of the words that would make him Understand. 'I can only act on what I believe now'. I looked away.

'Richard was everything to me', I said, Struggling to keep the tremor out of my voice. 'The world, the sun, the moon, the stars. When he died, a part of me died with him. Every other man I've met is only a pale shadow of Richard.' I gave him an apologetic look. 'I'm sorry. But you of all people should understand what I mean'.

He held up a hand. 'Oh, I do', he said. 'You don't have to worry about bruising my ego. I understand completely. Beth and I were childhood sweethearts. Her family had the farm next to ours. Our mothers were best friends. It was always Beth, only Beth, for me'. He gazed out the Window. 'I think I feel that by shutting out other women, I somehow keep her alive'.

'How did she die'? I asked softly

'Cancer', was the curt reply. 'Almost six months to the day after it was first diagnosed, she was gone'.

The old haunting pain flickered briefly over his face, mingled now with anger and frustration. Then, recovering himself, he turned to me and forced a smile. 'It all happened so fast I guess I'm still reeling from it, two years later. I'm sorry'.

'I know the feeling', I said. 'Please don't apologize'.

'Well', he said in a brisk tone, 'it seems we understand each Other quite well. What do you think of my proposition'?

'I'm not sure I quite grasp what you're driving at'.

'As I said, merely that we join forces neither of us can just drop out of New York society. Between my position as a member of the Senate and your family, we're caught. It's probably healthier that way, anyway. You need an escort. I need someone to escort. We could let it Be known-or assumed-that we have an exclusive relationship, and the pressure is off both of us'.

I still looked dubious. There were pitfalls to such a scheme, I knew, but right now I couldn't-think of what they might be. And just what kind of relationship did he have in mind?

As if he could read my mind, he went on to explain hastily, 'Of course, the relationship would be purely platonic'.

'Of course', I murmured, relieved. It just might work, I thought. The mere prospect of getting Margaret off my back was enough to convince me to give it a try, anyway. I looked at Matthew. He sat calmly smoking, giving me time, not pressuring me. It was clear he had no ulterior motive.

Finally, I said 'All right, Why not'?

'Fine'. He seemed pleased. He reached for the bill the waiter had left on the table and signed it. 'Perhaps we could start tonight. I was invited to a charity ball at the Conrad Hotel'. His eyes flicked up at me. 'did you receive an invitation'?

'Yes, but I declined. Margret had it all arranged for me to go with someone. He's something in the Defense Department. I've been out with him before. He's got ten hands and thinks every woman he meets is panting after him'.

He smiled, and I noticed once again that his smile never reached his eyes. 'William asked me to give Lara Jones a lift', he said Wryly. 'I told him I wasn't sure when I'd be able to get away. You see, we've solved both our problems at one blow'. He stood up. 'Shall we go'?

He walked out to the car park with me, and when I had started the Engine my car, he leaned down to speak to me through the open window 'I'll pick you up at eight. it's formal if you recall. We'll make a grand debut'.

I experienced something like stage fright when I entered the grand ballroom of The Conrad Hotel that night on the arm of the tall, impressive- looking senator. Our arrival together seemed uncomfortably like a deliberate deception to me, especially when we had both already declined invitations from other people.

I had dressed carefully that evening, just as though I were preparing for an appearance on the stage. At the last minute, I had almost backed out. The Idea that had seemed so reasonable when Matthew suggested it to me that afternoon now seemed ridiculous, even, I thought, a little dangerous.

Then he had appeared at my door, tall and solid, quietly self-assured, and I had to admit, breathtakingly attractive in his formal black suit and tie. My qualms vanished It just might work.

He had complimented me briefly, gravely, on the appearance I had worked so hard to achieve, and I couldn't help feeling a little let down at his distant tone. My red velveteen dress fit me to perfection now that I had gained my weight back, and the color, I Knew, was just, right for my delicate complexion and dark hair.

There hadn't been a trace of a gleam in the grey eyes when he first saw me. He seemed to be looking me over as he would one of the thoroughbred horses on his family's farm in Maryland. And when he held my coat for me as we were leaving my apartment, the long cool fingers that brushed my bare shoulders didn't linger a second more than was necessary.

I knew I was just being perverse to feel annoyed. Vain, I Thought, as we drove the short distance from my home to the hotel. I had become so accustomed to beating off male overtures that this aloof man's obvious lack of desire made me feel dowdy and unattractive.

At the door, Matthew had given his name to the attendant and been told that we were to be seated at table twelve. We were one of the last to arrive, and by now the great ballroom was crowded with people. An orchestra was playing a slow tune, and there were several couples on the floor, dancing.

Each table surrounding the dance floor had a placard with a number on it, and as we threaded our way around the tables looking for number twelve, I was uncomfortably aware that several Pairs of eyes were fastened on us. I spoke briefly to a few people I was acquainted with, and couldn't miss the avid looks of speculation as glances darted first on myself, then the tall man behind me, one hand lightly holding me by the elbow.

We spotted our table at last, and the first person I saw sitting there all alone was my sister, Margaret. I stiffened and started to turn, but the hand on my elbow tightened, propelling me gently forward.

Then I heard his voice in my ear, felt his breath on my cheek. 'Might as well get the worst over right away', he murmured.

I knew immediately that he had planned it this way, had probably called the Organizers of the event and requested to be seated at the same table with William and Margaret. I fought down a moment of panic as I saw Margaret's eyes widen slowly in recognition, but when her mouth fell open, and I saw my sister speechless for once, I decided the whole scheme had been worth it.

My head held high, I walked slowly forward and sat down next to my sister. Matthew had taken my coat, and after a brief greeting to the paralyzed Margaret, went off to check it.

'Hello, Margaret', I said blandly. I gazed around the room. 'There's quite a crowd here tonight. You must have invited everyone in...'

'What are you doing here with Matthew Smith'? Margaret cut in, finding her voice at last.

I gave her an innocent look. 'Why, the same thing you are, Margaret. It's all for the sake of sweet charity. Is William here'?

'Answer me'! Margaret demanded. 'What's going on'?

'Nothing's going on, I murmured Matthew asked me to go with him tonight, and I accepted. I thought you'd be pleased'.

'Well, of course', Margaret said weakly. 'I am pleased. It's what I've been trying to get you to do for months, but... 'Her voice trailed off.

I smiled sweetly, enjoying my sister's discomfiture. I knew quite well that Margaret's only objection to my appearance here tonight on the arm of Matthew Smith was that she hadn't engineered the whole thing herself.

Margaret leaned back in her chair, now, and gave me a long searching look. 'Well', she said at last, 'you are a deep one'. There was something like Admiration in her voice. 'You've managed to walk off... with the most eligible man in New York all by yourself. How long has this been going on'?

I Hesitated. I had promised myself when I decided to accept Matthew's strange proposition that I, would avoid deliberate falsehoods. I would only tell the truth and let Margaret and others assume what they liked from what I didn't say.

'You could say that we first became really acquainted that night last December when I gave him a lift back to town from your dinner party. He lives in the same building as I do, you know, and one thing just led to another'.

This seemed to satisfy Margaret, and by now the music had stopped and the rest of their party began drifting back to the table from the dance floor. The tables all seated eight people, and soon I saw that it was exactly the same party that was at the reception last year when I first met Matthew.

This time, however, David was escorting Lara Jones, both of whom gave me a curious look as they sat down at the table, greeting me casually. Soon the rest joined them, and William came along soon afterward bearing a tray of drinks in his hands. Matthew was right behind him carrying two glasses.

'Jennifer', William said as soon as he spotted me, 'how nice to see you'. He set the tray down on the table and kissed me on the cheek.

'Hallo, William', I said.

Then Matthew sat down beside me. He leaned towards me and one long arm moved casually over the back of my chair, not quite touching me.

'I know you like champagne, Jennifer', he said clearly. 'I hope it's what you wanted. There's quite a crush at the bar'.

No One said a word. I could palpably feel the interested glances of the rest of the party at Matthew's possessive tone. 'Thank you', I murmured and took a deep swallow.

Then, blessedly, the music started up again. Matthew asked me to dance, and I jumped up gratefully, moving into his arms quickly, glad to get away from those inquisitive eyes at the table.

He held me decorously, at a distance, as we danced on the fringes of the crowded floor. 'Don't look so worried', he said, looking down at me with a smile. 'The worst is over. We'll give them a chance to talk it over, and when we get back they'll be used to the idea. You'll see'.