Sea Gem, page 10
‘It’s a long time since anyone had the guts to put me in my place like that but, of course, you are quite right. I’ll retire down here to be a counsellor—when required!’ she added quickly. ‘I’ll not interfere. I promise!’
Mary leaned forward and kissed one leathery cheek. ‘You are my friend,’ she reinforced firmly.
* * *
Mary arrived well before the appointed time. She didn’t know the way and had decided it was prudent to explore; also she wanted time in which to compose herself. There had been a little difficulty with Duret who had wanted to drive her into town, wait while she shopped, then take her for lunch.
Thankfully Tante had handled that beautifully. ‘Oh no, you are not going, my lad,’ she told Duret with cool firmness. ‘I need your strong muscles this afternoon and Mary does not want you mooning around outside a dress shop. She wants to take her time selecting materials. Indeed, she might not see what she wants and will have to go back another day.’ Tante had flashed a sharp look at Mary who understood in a second. Here was the excuse for returning without buying anything. ‘And furthermore,’ Tante had continued with a full head of steam, ‘you can’t drive the cob. He needs new shoes and I’m going to arrange for Sam to take him to the farrier!’
Duret had been inclined to sulk but he had not quite dared to disobey his grandmère. Mary had used her guile by winking at him and nodding at the heavy dresser.
‘Help her or she’ll only try and struggle on her own,’ she whispered and, appealed to by his adorable wife, Duret had capitulated without further fuss.
Sam took the cob to be shod and Mary slipped away on the cycle, repeating the directions given by Tante. Under other circumstances, she would have enjoyed the ride. The weather was like a summer day; the sun brilliant without a breath of wind and cycling was easy. The tide was high and the views gorgeous when she spotted the correct lane and turned inland.
Mary had dressed with care and thought. She had examined her growing wardrobe and, after much pondering, chose a gay, floral skirt which was a mixture of brightly coloured daisies, a white short-sleeved blouse with dainty ruffles at the neck and cream flat-heeled shoes. The cycle had been fitted with a small front basket pannier and in this she carried her handkerchief and purse. She felt good and knew she looked it.
She wore only the lightest touch of lipstick which complemented the tan she had acquired on breezy Sark. Her hair, kept cropped short, fluttered in the breeze of her passage and she cycled energetically as if by using up physical energy she could combat the screwing tension in her stomach.
Mary knew she was apprehensive but, at the same time, she was excited at the thought of seeing Victor again, which prodded guilt to rise in her heart. How was it possible for her to feel such anticipation when she was happily married?
She braked to a halt at Jerbourg Point which was a headland jutting into the sea. It was high and after she had parked her cycle, she walked to the edge and looked down. Way below the sea writhed as the tide began its turn with tiny frills of white on the waves. There was a thin, narrow path descending steeply, flanked on either side by scrubby bushes and she guessed it would be a real scramble to go down this.
Louise had explained the significance of this place. From it, on a clear day like today, it was possible to see all the other islands. Mary easily picked out nearby Herm then, turning as advised, she was able to recognise Jersey. By looking in the other direction she was just able to pick out the thin shadow which marked Alderney. It was a beautiful spot and she was quite alone.
Now and again, she flashed a look backwards at the lane wondering when he would come. There was no doubt in her mind that he would. Then she saw a figure cycling purposefully up the lane. It was a man and, as he neared, she swallowed with fresh nerves.
He wore dark trousers and a similar jacket with a grey shirt and a tie that flapped loose. She saw his features were noncommittal though his eyes held hers as he dismounted, removed his cycle clips and put his vehicle against hers.
He stared at her frankly, letting admiration have its play. She looked so beautiful and serene as she waited for him. Her head was held high with dignity and though her expression was smooth he could see something burning in her blue eyes as he approached.
He stopped one pace away, gave her a long, hard look, swallowed then gritted his teeth.
‘How could you?’ he grated.
Mary was lost for words. It was still there and her heart sank. His physical presence was almost enough to overwhelm her. From him came the mystical aura that seemed to envelop her and draw her against her will. His eyes were a dark blue, cold and hard as Indian sapphires.
‘Don’t let’s quarrel!’ she begged on an impulse.
Victor compressed his mouth. His expression was austere with pinched nostrils and tight lips. Every tendon stood out on his strong neck and his breath came hard and heavy.
‘I turn my back for five seconds and you—you—’
Mary’s heart sank. She had never seen him like this. All her bright, prepared words of appeasement vanished in a twinkling. She stood uncertainly with dry lips and pain inside.
‘I love you and you love me!’ he stated flatly. ‘No!’ he barked sharply. ‘Don’t even try to deny it. What came over you? Couldn’t you wait even a few weeks for me? Why, Mary? Why did you do it?’ Despair filled his voice.
Mary closed her eyes, shook her head, bit her lip and half lifted her left hand. His eyes moved then, widened with shock. Suddenly he took a step nearer and snatched her hand, lifting it, his eyes hot with anger at the large diamond.
‘So that’s it!’ he snarled down at her. ‘You let yourself be bought!’
Mary flinched at his contempt. ‘No, it wasn’t that at all!’ she cried in protest.
‘Before I left, you had promised yourself to me, then along come the Noyens with their wealth and—!’
‘No!’ Mary shouted back at him striving to maintain her dignity, to defend herself and not to let him see how he could still affect her emotions. ‘Anyhow, it’s the female’s prerogative to change her mind!’
Victor refused to listen to her defence. ‘I never thought it of you!’ he said with heavy contempt. ‘Bribed by wealth! You were more than willing to be mine but that odious, old woman lifts her finger, flashes a large diamond and gets you bowing and scraping to her!’ he accused hotly.
Mary snatched her hand away. ‘That’s a rotten thing to say and it’s not true either!’ she retorted wildly. ‘I’m not for sale to anyone whether it be you, Duret or Louise Noyen. If you must know, on the day I left you, there was news that Duret had been wounded. I went to France with Tante. I had no time to think or plan. It was all a whirlwind rush and nightmare.’
He maintained a stony silence, more deeply hurt than he cared to show. It had not entered his head Louise Noyen would use the power of her money and to think Mary had fallen for this!
‘Duret was buried alive,’ Mary told him with a rush of words. ‘I had to go to him.’
‘Serves him right for going in the first place,’ he shot back at her caustically. ‘But you still didn’t have to marry him!’
Mary flinched again. She could feel her own temper starting to rise. He was being totally unreasonable. What was done, was done; nothing could change it.
‘Tante asked me my intentions. She knew all about us, incidentally.’
That shocked him. ‘How?’ he barked at her.
Mary shrugged. ‘What does it matter now?’ she said slowly. ‘Perhaps if Duret had not been hurt—it was only through him that I came here and we bumped into each other. Duret needs me. You don’t, Victor. You are the most self-sufficient person I’ve ever met and, anyhow, upon reflection, I don’t think we would have made a good team.’ She paused, eyeing him honestly. ‘We could be a little too much alike. We would both want to lead. We would only fight together. That’s not much of a basis for marriage.’
‘Rubbish!’ he snorted.
‘We are fire and flint,’ Mary pressed on remorselessly, knowing her words were true but wondering why she had not thought along these lines before. ‘We are indeed who you said we were.’
He was puzzled for a few seconds, still too bitter to think coherently. He frowned heavily and waited.
‘We are indeed Catherine and Heathcliff,’ Mary whispered sorrowfully.
‘They both regretted their stupid actions,’ he shot back at her. ‘Heathcliff because he worshipped his Catherine and she? Her ghost could never rest. When she was dying as Linton’s wife, she knew her error all right. She had chosen the milksop instead of the man, also bewitched by money and status! I know my Brontë, too!’ His voice changed to a soft, persuading tone, ‘Don’t you see, Mary? You are Catherine. You have married a weakling. I’m Heathcliff, tossed aside for money. For God’s sake, girl, look at Noyen! I’ve heard about him. He is useless, a dreamer, soft and weak. He’ll never be a real man. All your life you will have to carry him. Duret Noyen—’ He grated a harsh laugh. ‘Linton was a manly fellow compared to Noyen!’
‘Stop it, Victor!’ she cried hotly. ‘It won’t get you anywhere. I’m married now and a Noyen. We both have to live on this island. Surely we can do it in peace?’
He snorted wildly and shook his head with anger. ‘You don’t ask much! You think I can live here and come across you often and not have feelings? Not think what could have been between us? Good God, girl! I’m flesh and blood. Not half-baked sawdust like that fool at Cobo!’
Mary felt the waves of his anger battering at her. She gritted her teeth. ‘I’d better go! This is getting us nowhere!’
‘Damn your eyes, Mary Hinton!’ he croaked, a catch in his voice. ‘You have done something to me that can never be put right except by you. From that first meeting you sank your nails into my heart and I’m trapped for as long as we both live. You expect me to stand back and accept that?’ He pointed to her wedding band.
Mary’s shoulders slumped. She should have known better than to come. ‘There’s nothing else to say then, is there?’ she said heavily.
She half turned and he grabbed an arm, his fingers iron. A wildness filled his dark blue eyes, which burned with incredible intensity. For the first time, Mary felt a twinge of alarm. They were quite alone and he was powerfully strong, driven by sexual desire and frustration coupled with the most intense hurt.
‘You will always belong to me, Mary!’ he hissed down at her. ‘You can stay married to that effete Noyen creature until hell freezes over but he will never own you. I do!’ He halted to take a deep breath. ‘One day, sometime, somewhere, perhaps even in the distant future, I will come to you again and this time you will not refuse me. That is not just a prediction, but a solemn promise. Then you’ll know what it’s like to go to bed with a real flesh and blood man!’ He released her suddenly. ‘Go on then! Go back to your boy husband. The wonder poet whom no one understands. Go back to that useless Noyen object and in the weeks and months and even years to come, you think back to this day and what I have said to you.’ His voice sank low. ‘But also know this, you have broken my heart in the process and I am being neither melodramatic nor maudlin. Neither was Heathcliff when he leaned from that open window for his ghostly Catherine and froze to death. Now get away from me!’ and he gave her a savage push.
Mary was white, castigated by his words, which seared her soul with their passion and intensity. There was something godly about him as he stood with upright dignity and looked straight into her eyes. He waggled the fingers of one hand and dismissed her as if she were a menial then, turning, he strode to his cycle, swung it up, mounted and pedalled savagely back down the lane.
Mary watched him disappear, one hand to her mouth as the tears welled up to flood down both her cheeks. She had never dreamed their meeting could end like this. Those hot, fiery words of his—she flinched inwardly, knowing them to be the most truthful ever hurled at her. She gulped as he vanished from sight.
She stumbled down to her cycle, hardly able to see for tears and fumbled, lifting it from the hedge, then turned and looked down the lane with a miserable expression. Sam stepped into view. The trap had been hidden around the back of a cottage whose owner he knew and Sam himself had been tucked into the hedge from which he’d had an excellent view.
‘Sam!’ Mary gasped.
He stepped up to her and rested one hand on her left shoulder.
‘He’s gone, my dear,’ Sam said slowly. ‘And you?’
Mary hastily collected her wits, her forehead puckering as her mind raced, then she scowled suddenly.
‘Tante sent you!’ she accused hotly. ‘She planned it all!’
Sam made no comment. He had approved of the mistress’s prudence and the cob had never been shod so quickly in all his life.
‘Oh!’ Mary cried. ‘As if I needed a bodyguard!’
Her cheeks flamed with anger. ‘I will not have Tante setting a watch upon me!’ she protested angrily. ‘I can look after myself and, anyhow, Victor will never hurt me!’
‘That’s as maybe,’ Sam replied quietly.
‘That interfering old woman!’
‘Her intentions are only the best,’ Sam tried to placate.
‘She thinks she owns me! Wait till I get home. I’ll have a few things to say myself!’
Sam hesitated, then decided to change the subject, hoping Mary would cool down. ‘How did he take it?’ he asked bluntly.
Mary’s face fell. ‘He hated it!’ she said slowly.
‘How do you feel about him now?’ Sam persisted gently.
Mary looked at him with sad eyes, then gave a deep sigh and shook her head. ‘I still feel the same about him but oh! don’t worry, I’ll be a loyal wife to my husband but I’ll never have for him what’s here for Victor!’ and her right hand touched her heart. ‘If only it had all been different,’ she mused sadly.
Sam knew she had to know sometime and better the information came from him right now. On the cycle ride back she would have time to mull it over and, at the same time, it might cool her temper.
‘He’s flush now,’ he said quietly.
Mary looked at him sharply. ‘What do you mean?’
Sam shrugged. ‘It’s fairly common knowledge so I suppose le Page himself talked but he’s received more news from his advocate. His inheritance has been bigger than he ever dreamed.’
‘But how can that be? From what he told me—’ Mary paused, thinking deeply.
‘His father was a drunk, as he told you, but his adopted mother was shrewder than anyone gave her credit for. It all goes back to Sarah Martell who soon realised her son Michael, Victor’s father, was a no-good wastrel. She took to her daughter-in-law who never had a baby who lived and when she legally adopted Victor as her son, the old woman’s heart was touched. She also admired Lisa very much for putting up with Michael. Unknown to anyone but the two women, Sarah had money of her own. Quite a lot of money too and she settled it all upon Lisa in trust for life, the remainder to go to Victor upon Lisa’s death. Old man le Page never knew a thing about it. Just as well too. He would only have bullied Lisa for drinking money.’
Mary considered this. ‘So Victor will come into an inheritance after all? He won’t be poor any more?’
Sam shook his head. ‘He’ll end up a man of substance, you mark my words.’
‘But I’m surprised that Victor talked about this,’ Mary murmured thoughtfully.
Sam pulled a face. ‘After he’d received the letter he became cockahoop and told one or two people when he should have known better. He told them the money could not have come at a better time as he was getting married shortly to a wonderful girl.’
‘Oh no!’ Mary groaned, half turning aside. Then she was hit by panic. ‘Did he—?’
Sam shook his head. ‘He had enough sense not to name names so your husband hopefully should not learn of a connection,’ Sam said carefully.
Mary had no words left. Now she could fully understand Victor’s attitude. It wasn’t simply she had gone to another man but also the fact that he now had money. Although his inheritance might not be quite the equal of the Noyen’s standing, it was a drastic improvement on anything he had dared to envisage. He could give a wife security and comfort, fine clothes and a splendid home. If she had waited but a little longer; if only Duret had not been wounded. If she had not succumbed to Tante’s syrupy words—Mary felt a knot of cold anger enclose her heart and squeeze viciously. Then her basic honesty returned. Tante had but presented certain facts to her. The ultimate decision, the final choice, had been left to her and she had made the wrong decision. She had taken the boy instead of the man and misery made her lower her head and bite her bottom lip.
She looked at Sam with swimming eyes. ‘I’ll go home,’ she told him unhappily.
He looked at her with concern. Her expression had been so open he had followed her thoughts exactly. There was nothing he could do though but be there, as a friend, upon whose shoulders she could always lean.
Mary had regained her self-control by the time she returned home. Tante quivered with excitement, longing to know what had happened but one steady look at Mary’s face stilled her questions. Later she turned to Sam.
‘What did happen, Sam?’
He regarded her thoughtfully. He could understand her concern for the marriage; her need to know everything but there were limits. Further he did not exactly know himself what had been said. He did not really want to.
‘I don’t know,’ he said firmly, ‘And, if I did, I’d not tell you. It’s not my business, Mistress, and neither is it yours!’
‘Well!’ Louise expostulated with anger. ‘I think it is my business and very much so!’
‘Then go and find out from another source. You’ll learn nothing from me and it’s no good you coming the sergeant major with me either. I’m as ready to retire as stay on here, so now you make your choice!’ Sam told her coldly.
Such defiance was enough to make Louise explode but she kept a curb on her temper. To lose Sam would be unthinkable. She regarded his stiff face. She read disapproval which did not unduly worry her. Whatever she had done, good or bad, had been for the benefit of the family which always came first.
