Youre a traitor there shall be no wedding!
My dearest, whatever nonsense are you talking about? my fiancé barely glanced at the photograph. Youre the only one I care for. I need no one else. This must be edited somehow.
Oh really? And who would go to the trouble? I remember how his nonchalance grated on me. Even his attempt at defending himself was lacklustre.
The beauty parlour I’d inherited from my grandmother had never really held my interest. It was the art lessons at the local school for children that gave me joy. Still, I couldnt refuse grandmothers legacy.
The business did well, and was managed by a responsible woman, so I wanted for nothing and was free to pursue my true passion. Only the absence of a family pained me at times.
After my grandmothers death, at twenty-seven, loneliness clung to me, until I met Arthur at an exhibition a year later.
Arthur charming, quietly spoken, his shy smile disarming won me over with his courtesy and gentle ways.
Two months after we met, he invited me home to introduce me to his stepfather, Mr. Henry Mitchell.
My real father died when I was four, Arthur confided. Mum remarried a decade later. I never brought myself to call Henry dad, but we have a good understanding. When my mother passed two years ago, I stayed on with him.
I liked Mr. Mitchell at once trim, bright-eyed, his manner and speech impeccable, and for fifty-six, he looked much younger.
It seemed he liked me too.
Our young scallywag is a lucky man, he said gallantly, pressing a kiss to my hand.
Whats this scallywag business, Uncle Henry? Arthur feigned injury.
Well, a proper gent wouldnt be in hobby supplies management, Henry replied with a grin. But never mind all that its you whos the lucky one to have such a fiancée!
I was shy at first, but Henrys jokes had me in stitches all evening, even making Arthur a little envious.
Six months on, Arthur proposed. My heart so light and dreamy about the life ahead, I didnt immediately understand the nature of the photos that landed in my messages.
But once I did, I was aghast.
They showed Arthur, with that familiar bashful smile, embracing and tenderly kissing another woman. The images were stamped with dates merely a fortnight past.
My love, honestly, whats got into you? Arthur repeated indifferently, barely glancing at the evidence. I only have eyes for you. Thats a fake, surely.
Oh? Who would bother doing such a thing? I bristled at how flippant he was. Even his protests seemed halfhearted.
Havent the faintest, he answered, cool as you please. Theres no end of lunatics about, you know.
The words caught in my throat. Some other man would have pleaded passionately, vowed eternal faithfulness, promised to find the culprit and defend his brides honour. But Arthur not only had he betrayed me, he seemed barely bothered!
Youre a traitor! The wedding is off! In tears, I bolted from his flat, leaving him struck dumb with surprise.
For three days, I wept within my rooms, not stepping outdoors for a week, claiming illness. Doubts churned within me Arthur never once tried to reach me. Eventually I forced myself to think rationally.
And yet what if those images truly were forgeries? In this day and age, photographs can be altered in any fashion. Had I been too hasty in condemning him?
Strangely enough, the girl in the photos turned out to be real, discovered after a search online her name was Victoria, with profiles on three social sites. She readily agreed to a meeting.
Oh, those snaps? Those are ancient history now, she scoffed when I explained, showing her the photos. Theyre over a year old.
But the date I hesitated.
Oh, that? Faking a date on a pictures childs play, if you want to.
Did you send them?
Goodness, no! Why bother? Arthur and I parted ways ages ago didnt suit each other. In fact, Im to be married soon.
Really? Strangely, theres no trace of a fiancé on your page, I noted, eyeing her.
Happiness thrives in quiet, she replied serenely. Id rather not tempt fate. But youll see, I shall share my wedding pictures.
So, someone truly had slandered Arthur, and I, quick to believe, hurt him without cause. I had to mend matters.
I called and sent messages no reply. Two days on, I resolved to visit him at home, to plead in person.
Come evening, I arrived, sure Id find him, only to witness Arthur climbing from the car belonging to my old friend Clara.
Clara and I had grown up in the same close, even shared a friendship for a while, though her forceful, striking manner always unnerved me.
With time, our only connection was the briefest greeting, until she visited after my grandmothers passing, pressing me to part with the beauty parlour, insisting massage suites would suit it better.
She already owned two salons, but desired mine for its prime spot. I knew well enough what really went on behind those closed doors and I needed my business for myself.
Despite her persistent, generous offers, I consistently refused. Now Clara had enacted her revenge by stealing my fiancé? So my thoughts raced.
As I watched, the two said a fond goodbye, and Clara drove off.
There came a gentle voice behind me. See now. Didnt I tell you Arthurs a bit of a scallywag?
I started it was Mr. Mitchell.
Oh! Evening, Mr. Mitchell, I stammered.
Evening. Arthurs not wasting away, as you can see. Youd do better marrying me. He said it with a laugh, but his eyes were intent.
Im sorry, but Ive no time right now, I blurted, utterly flustered, and hurried away as fast as I could go.
Clara was easy to track down. As I reached our street, she was just stepping out of her car.
So you decided to snatch my fiancé, is that right? I glared at her. But the photos gave you away. I learned the truth.
What photos? Clara looked genuinely puzzled. What nonsense are you on about?
You mean you didnt send me those snapshots of Arthur with some girl? Failed to pin disgrace on me, eh?
Lizzie, are you quite well? I sent nothing. Arthur started courting me just last week. I thought you two had ended things
She seemed to be telling the truth, her face open. I needed to think on all this, in peace.
I only thought you might finally be selling the parlour! Clara called after me, but I didnt turn back.
At home, having regained my breath, I rang Arthur. To my surprise, he answered.
Fine, you can come round, he mumbled, when I begged to talk, Though Im feeling under the weather.
I didnt need to be asked twice.
Arthur, I made a mistake! Please forgive me its just, I love you so dearly, I was jealous, everything seemed real I pleaded.
Never mind, he shrugged. These things happen.
Youre wonderful! I threw my arms around his neck. I love you so much!
But he gently released me.
Lets remain friends.
What? But we were to be married
Lizzie, he grimaced, Im marrying Clara. Its decided.
What? But you swore to me you loved me! Our wedding
No need for dramatics. Your sensitivity was exactly what put me off. I can do without all this emotional turmoil. Besides, Claras business is in better shape, brings in more. A man must think about his own prospects.
I was dumbstruck. Words failed me. Hed simply used me, and found it easy to cast me aside for another.
I fled his flat, dashed down the stairs but once outside, my legs gave way and I collapsed onto a bench.
Minutes later, Mr. Mitchell appeared beside me.
Oh, you poor thing, he said gently, stroking my hair. Dont fret better to know the truth now
I just dont understand. Who started all this? My tears burst forth afresh.
I did Mr. Mitchell confessed quietly.
You? Why? My sobbing stopped dead.
I fell for you that very evening you first visited our home. Decided then and there I’d make you my wife, but you never looked my way. Always Arthur, Arthur. But why did you even care for him?
Youre older than me, and besides, I loved Arthur or thought I did
Well, I meant to compromise you in his eyes, but then I overheard him bragging hed landed a rich bride. I realised hed never give you up. So instead, I turned things another way. I had the means. Never mind how.
Do you understand youve ruined my life?!
No. I saved it. Youd only have suffered more later. Marry me instead, Lizzie, will you?
Youre mad! I shot up and marched resolutely home.
I left town, but Mr. Mitchell tracked me down, continued to plead. In time, we became friends, nothing more.
A year later, Henry Mitchell passed away, leaving everything to me, but I found no joy in it. Id grown fond of him, the old stepfather.
Arthur, by the by, was furious about losing the flat, but by then, hed become a person of no consequence to me at all.
