Sea Gem, page 8
Their cabin was minuscule with one bunk and one chair bolted to the deckhead. Louise took the tray from the steward, shut the door firmly, placing the tray on a let-down flap.
‘The cabin’s not much but I was lucky to get it at such short notice and it cost enough in a bribe too,’ she sniffed. ‘Now have some coffee. It will keep us awake while we sort matters out,’ she said briskly.
Mary thought she would scream. How could Tante display such efficiency under these circumstances? It was unnatural. But she said nothing, simply biting her bottom lip as she took the steaming coffee, thick and very black. It was welcoming, hitting her stomach with solid reassurance, settling jangling nerves and she drained the lot, then held out the cup for another.
Louise poured, then sat back on the sole chair while Mary balanced on the hard bunk bed.
‘So!’ Louise said slowly. ‘Now we can talk.’
Mary looked over at her with sorrowful but wary eyes. ‘What happens now?’ she asked more to herself than Tante.
‘You make your choice, once and for all, but before you do, weigh all the pros and cons. Your decision will be final and irrevocable,’ Louise warned in a low voice.
‘Don’t you feel anything for Victor? He is also your grandson,’ Mary asked in a low voice.
‘He is the bastard issue of a daughter whom I learned to loathe!’ Louise replied evenly. ‘With good reason too!’ she added, then sighed heavily.
‘He is your flesh and blood!’
‘He is no legal kith and kin of mine!’ Louise retorted swiftly.
‘You think he is bad just because your daughter was but he is not!’ Mary cried sharply, springing to Victor’s defence. ‘You won’t even give him a chance by seeing him. He is not a blackguard. He is a very fine young man!’
Louise’s lips tightened at this as her expression turned bleak. ‘Do you love Duret?’ she asked suddenly. ‘Have you ever loved him?’
Mary didn’t hesitate. She looked Louise straight in the eye and held her cold stare.
‘No on both counts!’ she replied simply, ‘And that was made very clear to Duret. He wanted to drive me into making an early commitment but I wouldn’t have it. I did agree to wear his ring but only reluctantly and told him so.’
‘So why did you come to Guernsey then—?’ Louise snapped. ‘You could just as easily have stayed in England!’
Again Mary was honest. ‘Because I was sick to death of my life there and I gambled the island offered me something fresh, a new start, better prospects and—’
‘That’s it then, isn’t it?’
Mary frowned, then understanding dawned. Her eyes flayed angrily. ‘You are older than me. You’ve seen more of life and its tragedies than I have but you certainly do not know everything,’ she started coldly. ‘No, I did not know that Duret came from a well-off family. If I had known that, I doubt I would have come to the island. I know more about being poor that you’ll ever know. I’ve forgotten details of poverty and charity unknown to you,’ she said hotly. ‘Duret never said a word to me about his background or finances and I wasn’t interested enough to ask. I am not some little gold digger!’ she snapped, her voice rising a little, her whole personality showing a side unknown to Louise. She was furious and showed it. ‘I was under the impression Duret and his family came from a humble fishing background. I had the shock of my life the day I arrived and the trap drew up outside that magnificent home. I can make my own way in life, willy-nilly. I don’t need you nor the Noyen money, thank you very much. Indeed, Tante, if that is the way your mind has been working then I’ll tell you what I intend to do.’ She had to pause for breath while her breasts heaved with genuine indignation.
‘Which is?’ Louise asked quietly. She was taken aback at this display of spirited temper and more than a little impressed.
‘I’ll come back to your rich, plush home and change. These—’ Mary snapped, indicating some of the clothes Tante had bought, ‘you can have back and do with as you will. I shall collect my own bits and pieces and depart from your place and your life. You know something, old woman, even the poor have their pride and dignity. It’s a pity you are not sufficiently worldly-wise to realise this without making snide remarks and totally unjust accusations!’
Mary quivered. With each word she knew she was getting angrier. If she could have left Louise Noyen and the ferry she would have done so. Her blue eyes blazed and Louise nodded sagely to herself as her lips twitched.
‘Fine, bold words,’ she replied quietly. ‘And Victor le Page?’ she prodded.
‘I love him,’ Mary told her simply.
Louise swore and shook her head violently. ‘After a few hours with him? What rubbish!’ she snorted.
‘Not many weeks with Duret!’ Mary retorted.
‘Marriage is for life. You are experiencing a brief, violent infatuation but you don’t know it. Le Page gets nothing when I die!’ she warned.
‘He wants nothing!’ Mary shot back. ‘The only thing he does want from you is your acknowledgement that he is decent and respectable!’
‘I have my doubts about them too when he plays free and easy with an engaged girl!’ Louise parried.
Words left Mary momentarily. She was bubbling with anger now, seething to do something but was frustrated by being trapped in the cabin.
‘So Duret is tossed aside,’ Louise said slowly, deciding upon a new line of assault. ‘A simple boy, a gentle one who writes poetry—even if it is bad—who trusts you and who wants you by his side in life.’
Mary cringed. This flanking attack on her conscience was hard to parry. For a few seconds, Duret’s and Victor’s faces swam before her eyes, merging into one gigantic vision. She felt helplessly pulled in two directions.
‘Are you all right, Mary?’ Louise asked suddenly. The girl had gone white and she wondered if she was seasick. The ferry was wallowing a little in the swell.
‘I’m all right,’ Mary said slowly. ‘Just angry with you!’ She managed a thin wan smile with her lips, though her eyes remained miserable.
‘Duret needs you, Mary,’ Louise told her gently, her eyes boring into the blue ones. ‘He needs a strong wife to help and guide him. He needs a true friend to walk by his side. He is not a bad boy. If you throw him aside you’ll break his heart. When I saw him—he mentioned you.’
Mary looked at her sharply. ‘He did?’
Louise nodded. ‘He wanted to know where you were and if you were all right. He loves you desperately. Oh! He said nothing else but I know my grandson.’
Mary’s shoulders slumped. The forces lined against her were too strong, her greatest enemy her own conscience. What about Victor?
‘If you marry Duret you will become a rich woman,’ Louise said gently. ‘Your past fears of poverty and charity will vanish for ever. Your children will grow up never knowing want. You will be sole mistress of a fine home, respected by the islanders, a lady of consequence. Remember—when poverty walks in the door, love flies out of the window and what exactly can le Page offer you that is as good as marriage to Duret? Do you think all marriages are based on love? Goodness me, girl, you’ve had a sound education. What about the gentry and aristocracy who marry to unite land and wealth—the same even with royalty? Don’t tell me, child, that wealth and position are to be scorned. You’ve more sense in your head than that! You marry my grandson and perpetuate my line and you will be Madam Noyen, a lady of importance and respect. You marry le Page and where will you end up? God knows! I don’t!’
Mary did not immediately reply. Louise’s shrewd comments accurately hit the bull’s eye.
‘But I don’t love Duret,’ she protested weakly.
Louise sensed she was winning. ‘Love grows,’ she said softly. ‘And the variety that takes time to come is often far better than the hot flush of the all-at-once stuff!’
Mary closed her eyes miserably. Victor’s wild ideas of going abroad were magnificent but—what if they did not work out? What if babies came and they did not have two halfpennies to rub together? Duret meant security; Victor offered risk. If it were herself alone she knew where the choice would lie but she must think of possible children. She could feel Louise’s eyes boring into her.
‘I doubt I’ll ever love him,’ she whispered ruefully.
‘But surely you must like Duret?’
Mary nodded at that. ‘Yes, that I do.’
‘Well?’ Louise asked with forced gentleness. She sensed they had reached the crux of their talk but which way would the girl jump? Mary Hinton was a far more complex character than she had imagined and she had a temper to boot. She fully approved of this. Mary was the ideal mate for Duret but Louise had enough sense to know when not to press. She held her breath, feeling her nerves jangle with agitation though her expression was smoothly bland from long practice.
Mary made her decision. ‘I will marry Duret—on one condition!’
Louise stiffened. ‘Which is?’
‘That it is done as quickly as possible with neither frills nor fanfare,’ Mary said firmly then unbent to explain. ‘Victor le Page is away from the island for a number of weeks. It’s better for me to be a wife when he returns. I will then see him—and tell him.’
Louise’s breath came out with a rush of relief. She had played her cards right after all, thank God she had found out about le Page’s antics with Mary in time. Praise be for gossiping island tongues! It had enabled her to formulate a plan, put it into action, then pray something tangible would happen. Duret’s wounding had not been exactly what she’d had in mind but it had sufficed admirably. The editor of the newspaper, an old acquaintance of hers, had been most obliging and thought her idea of letting the cub reporter loose on his own, an excellent way to test his abilities. He had been delighted and wondered why he had failed to think of this himself. Of course, he knew who young le Page was and Louise’s interest in promoting the boy’s career had not been untoward. Louise Noyen was well known to have a finger stuck deep in many pies and if she wanted le Page away from Guernsey for a few weeks, that was her business. He had no intention of questioning her as to her motives.
‘You’ll not regret this, Mary. That is a promise!’ Louise vowed.
Suddenly, Mary felt washed out. ‘And I’ll not back down either,’ she said carefully, reading Tante easily. ‘Just make it quick.’
‘I will!’ Louise promised grimly.
Mary shut her eyes, her heart numb but, strangely, a great weight had lifted from her shoulders now that matters had been taken out of her hands so dramatically. Thank God, she told herself, I made no direct promise to Victor but what was he going to say? She allowed herself the luxury of thinking about him for a few more moments. It would have been wonderful with him but also it might have been terrible.
Louise regarded her thoughtfully. Her conscience was quite at ease. Matters had turned out far better than she had dared to hope. The girl would mope for a bit, that was to be expected, so the urgent task was to get Duret home and the two of them married. Pray God, she added to herself, that he is still capable of his masculine duties.
She reached up, unfastened the top button of her blouse and withdrew a small deep locket suspended by a fine, golden chain worked in cable like a ship’s rope. Mary watched with surprise. She had never known Tante wear jewellery.
Louise noted her stare. ‘It was my mother’s given to her by my wild father,’ she smiled as she flipped the pendant off her neck, pressed a tiny catch and opened it.
‘Look!’
Mary’s eyes opened wider and she gasped. ‘That’s surely not a—?’
Louise nodded. ‘It is a cut but unset diamond of two carets,’ she said slowly. ‘This will be made into a proper betrothal ring for you. That other you can put on your right hand.’
Mary was stunned. She had seen magnificent gems before but only on the hands of gentry. She doubted whether even Lady Oliver possessed such a fine gem.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she murmured as the light in the cabin caught the facets making the stone flash white and blue.
‘There are some others left too,’ Louise continued slowly. She had made her decision. Mary would never break her word so now was the time to explain all.
‘Only Sam knows this now that Charles is dead. Duret certainly does not,’ she started to pick her words with care. ‘I was told by my parents when I was old enough to understand. I told you my father was a smuggler. Well, he did quite well from his nefarious activities and, to start with, he put his money into gold but that is heavy and cumbersome. Later he changed the gold into diamonds, which are easier to hide and transport and they are not so much subject to banking laws either. One diamond changed in the right place—at the right time—can realise much money. These are the source of the family wealth and now I tell you as you enter the family. One day it will be you who will end up guarding the family finances. Duret is far too vague to be allowed to deal with such important matters. Anyhow, it’s been my experience that strong women are excellent at business and you are going to be another me in time,’ she said dryly before continuing. ‘When it becomes necessary to have added funds, a diamond is changed on the Continent, usually in France. I have a list of suitable names and addresses where no questions are asked. Naturally the price received is often less than on the open market but it is more convenient and still highly profitable. There are not many diamonds left now and I only use one when absolutely necessary. With this stone in a ring, you will have security on your hands if the worst ever comes to the worse. When I change a diamond for money I deposit the funds in the family bank and the manager presumes these arise from Continental investments. Then, in due course, I transfer these to interest-bearing accounts, mostly on the mainland, although some go into gilt-edged shares. The remaining stones are hidden and after you are married I will show you. Secrecy is vital, of course. There is little crime on Guernsey but I take no chances. It always pays to be prudent and suspicious.’
Mary could find nothing to say. The stone’s fire fascinated her, making her catch her breath. She was awed to think this would be hers in the near future. Louise could not have displayed anything more provocative to indicate Mary’s new situation in life.
‘How many stones are left?’ Mary whispered, quite unable to take her eyes off the diamond.
‘Nine after this,’ Louise told her bluntly, ‘and worth a tidy heap of money too!’
Louise felt exhausted and it was a struggle to retain a stoic composure. She was still desperately afraid of Victor le Page and his emotional influence on the girl. Once she wore the gold band though, Mary was a possession of the Noyens. Le Page might cause a storm and uproar but Louise discounted this. She knew how to deal with upstart bastards, then a tiny frown puckered her forehead. She must arrange the quietest and quickest wedding ever held on the island. There would be talk of course, and constant studies of Mary’s abdomen but let the gossips have their field day. Louise did not particularly care just as long as she got what she wanted.
* * *
Ten days later Mary waited with a fluttering heart. Louise had driven the trap into St Peter Port to meet the ferry which would have Sam and Duret on board. Her moment of truth was upon her and she looked down at the magnificent diamond ring on her left hand, Duret’s more humble gift gracing her other hand. Only Emily was in the house and, during the past week, she had begun to thaw, perhaps because Mary tried to converse in patois. Sometimes she stumbled and became tangled but she persisted and her endeavours had won Emily over.
Sam had passed little comment when she told him about her forthcoming wedding. His wise old eyes looked at her with a long, silent question and his shoulders had twitched a fraction.
‘What will be—will be!’ was his brief, enigmatical comment and Mary could get nothing more from him so she let it all drop. Whether Sam approved or not she was uncertain. The one thing of which she was sure was his friendship because Sam’s role had changed. Without either of them becoming aware of exactly how it had happened, Mary now turned to Sam as the grandfather she had never known.
Mary smoothed her new blue skirt because Tante had ordered a fresh wardrobe for her. She had never dreamed such clothes existed for the likes of her and she would not have been human if they had not excited her. Now she was garbed almost as the gentry had been in Weymouth and it was amazing how good clothes gave a person added confidence.
She heard the brisk rattle of the cob’s hooves and retreated behind a tree to compose herself as sharp panic rose up like a ghost. She gulped, closed her eyes, took a deep breath and knew she was ready. The trap turned up the drive briskly, the cob tossing his head, sending foam flying from his bit then stopped. Tante sprang down in her usual vigorous way followed by Sam—and Duret.
Mary took another deep breath then stepped forward to show herself. Duret saw her and a great smile crossed his craggy features and he opened his arms invitingly. Suddenly, Mary needed no prodding. She ran forward, smiling sincerely because, after all, she did indeed like the Duret she had known in England. He kissed her gently, then held her at arms’ length while Louise and Sam discreetly vanished, leaving them alone.
Mary examined Duret carefully. She was shocked to realise how much older he looked. There were lines on his forehead and his brown eyes were hooded, holding some secret misery. He was incredibly smart. His boots shone, his puttees were precisely spaced, his trousers held a knife-edge crease and he wore a new jacket. His cap badge gleamed, as did his jacket buttons, but when Duret removed his cap, Mary was appalled to see grey hairs visible.
‘Duret,’ she whispered, holding out both hands to him.
‘At last,’ he murmured and drew her nearer. ‘I’ve often thought of this moment. Sometimes it seemed it would never come but here we are at last, together on my island.’
