Sea Gem, page 6
‘Well, girl,’ he told her at last, ‘the choice is yours. It has been from the start of time; the female has the prerogative to change her mind and better to do this than wear the wrong wedding band,’ he advised laconically, refusing to be drawn any more.
‘Oh, Sam!’ Mary breathed. ‘You don’t condemn me?’
Sam gave her a smile. ‘Of course not!’ he replied briskly. ‘And I’ll not say a word to the Mistress or anyone but remember this, the Mistress does not miss much that happens on this island,’ he warned quickly. ‘If you do meet le Page again to sort something out, make sure you are not observed. There are few secrets anyhow on Guernsey and it never ceases to amaze me how much information the Mistress acquires without appearing to ask a single question.’
‘I’ll remember!’ Mary whispered with relief then, on an impulse, stood leaned over and kissed one leathery cheek. ‘Thank you, Sam! I feel much better for talking to you!’
* * *
Louise looked at the girl from across a huge, dark table in the best room. She dropped her eyes and calculated again in swift, silent checking but there was no error.
Mary studied the room. Since her talk two days ago with Sam her heart had lifted while her emotions settled down. What exactly would happen in the future she had no idea and for the time being was content to live each day as it came. She liked this room, the first time she had been in it long enough to study its detail. It was very large and filled with fine, old furniture without being cluttered. There were four large, easy chairs and dining chairs ranged themselves alongside the table. Another enormous dresser flanked one wall, filled with top quality china. A number of paintings hung from the walls, all of them seascapes and, though she knew nothing of art, Mary liked them and sensed they were well executed. Underfoot was a thick, mottled green carpet—the same shade as the long, lined curtains.
‘Like it?’ Tante asked suddenly. She had been examining Mary’s face, puzzled by the girl but not displeased. She had brightened up recently and Louise hoped this was the end of the homesickness.
‘It’s lovely!’ Mary replied enthusiastically. ‘So rich yet lived in and all those books!’
‘Help yourself to whatever you wish to read,’ Louise replied generously. She was no great reader herself but understood the fascination print could have for others. Their vast collection had been acquired by her father who had never gone to sea without two fresh books in his cabin.
Mary nodded. ‘What is that?’
Louise grinned and sat back in her chair. ‘That is the Jonquière. Most good Guernsey homes have one. Even the humble fisherman’s cottage. It’s common name is the Green Bed. They go back a long way historically and once were nothing but fern covered couches used by the farmers for a midday rest. Now they are simply another island custom. A Guernsey home would not be that without its Green Bed.’
‘You have Guernsey milk cans in silver as well as two in good china.’ Mary pointed.
Louise eyed her thoughtfully. ‘For someone reared in an orphanage you have taste and knowledge but I suppose you acquired both in service. I can see too why you were given an initial teaching post. You have good handwriting and your figures are most accurate.’
Mary was pleased. There had been few genuine compliments in her life to date.
Louise continued. ‘You said you wanted some work to do though it’s not necessary,’ she added quickly. ‘As my grandson’s intended you have the right to live here doing nothing until he returns and you marry. However I think such idleness might pall after a while.’
Mary felt the brown eyes on her as she stared at the Green Bed. Here it came again—the ugly problem of marrying Duret plus the consequences if she did not.
‘If you really want to help I’d be glad,’ Louise said.
‘I’d like that,’ Mary told her honestly.
‘I’m part-owner of a quarry,’ Louise explained receiving Mary’s sharp attention. ‘Quarrying has always been big business on this island and it goes right back to the eighteenth century. There are many quarries here, the bulk of them in the north of this island. Ship-building is also another good business as well as growing tomatoes plus our cows with their rich milk and butter. However I suspect ship-building might decline when the war ends and perhaps too even the quarrying. In which case I’ll sell out and concentrate upon the tomatoes until I think of something else worthwhile. Until that happens though I do really need someone to do the quarry accounts and books. I’m not as quick with figures as I used to be and I’m slow compared to you.’
Mary nodded and waited to learn more so Tante continued.
‘Our stone is exceptionally strong,’ Tante told her, pleased with Mary’s concentrated interest. ‘Tests have been carried out on the mainland which prove our stone will only lose four to five pounds of wear over a given period of time while Dartmoor granite will lose twelve and a half pounds and Aberdeen stone fourteen and three-quarter pounds.’
Mary sat enthralled. Acquiring information was her favourite pastime and she concentrated hard.
Louise steepled her fingers together as she explained. ‘In 1913 we exported nearly half a million tons of stone to the mainland. Did you know that it is our splendid stone which was used in the construction of the Bank of England and the steps to St Paul’s Cathedral?’
‘No, I didn’t!’ Mary exclaimed, then her thoughts moved to another area and she frowned. ‘I’m rather puzzled,’ she said carefully. ‘You own a half share of a quarry but this lovely house with its magnificent furniture and grounds must have cost a lot of money in the first place? What they call a capital investment?’ and she held her breath wondering if she had been too nosy.
Louise’s lips twitched. She admired the girl’s perspicacity and was also annoyed by it. As yet she was not a member of the family and had no right to more information.
‘There was a lot of smuggling on the island in the last century. Before England changed her tariff laws, fortunes were made here which would make you hold your breath,’ she explained delicately. ‘My father Dan was a smuggler and that is all I’m prepared to say,’ she ended flatly then added a sharp addenda. ‘Duret does not know and is not to be told either!’
Mary blinked. ‘Because he is a dreamer?’
‘Mary!’ Louise gasped and halted. This girl was almost too sharp for her own good.
Mary saw shutters slip down and reverted back to the quarry. ‘Me and the quarry books?’ she prodded.
‘You can soon learn to do the books for me. Check the Bills of Lading, the fob and general accounts. Then if I do sell out you could go in on the ground floor with tomatoes. By then Duret will be home and that could be a joint business venture. I had a clerk doing my books but the fool went off to war and is dead, for his pains.’
Mary was surprised. ‘Don’t you approve of men joining up then?’
Louise snorted disparagingly. ‘Of course I don’t when they go like romantic knights after the Holy Grail!’
‘But Britain has been bleeding for years and the Empire too!’
‘Don’t try and teach me history, girl!’ Louise said coldly. ‘I’m perfectly well aware that someone has to go but these tiny islands carry little population and we are well tucked away from the mainland. What do you know about us? Precious little! But we are British. We give our allegiance to the Crown even if the Laws of Westminster have no authority here. Did you know the Writ of Habeas Corpus cannot run here?’
Mary shook her head realising she was suddenly out of her depth and secretly shocked by Tante’s unexpected hostility.
‘We have total independence from Westminster. We have a Lieutenant Governor but, when the States—which is our Parliament—sits, he has to be on a chair lower down on the platform than our Bailiff. For legal purposes we deal with the Privy Council only. What I’m saying Mary is that this is not our war. Oh! We’ll help the mother country but this should be with professional soldiers, not giddy, starry-eyed young fools who rush off at the first note of a trumpet, dreaming of galloping into battle on a white charger. Charles was like that and look what happened to him. Duret, of course, must copy. Young men never stop to think. Sometimes they are such fools,’ she said bitterly.
Mary was astounded at this passionate outburst and compared it to Victor’s similar views. Did this mean it was she who was out of step? Was Victor right and she wrong? Unease filled her as she remembered her cold words. She swallowed miserably and knew she would have to do something. She was far too honest to allow a lie to rest uncorrected.
‘If you were against Duret enlisting, why didn’t you stop him?’ she asked, puzzled.
‘Easier to stop the tide!’ Louise snorted with anger. She thought back to her hot words and Duret’s, for once, equally obdurate stance. It had been his first, independent action and she suspected it had been done deliberately, as some crazy way of proving his manhood. ‘Not all our young men went. Those with sense stayed and they are alive,’ she ended sadly.
* * *
The weather swiftly developed into the island’s spring in advance of that on the mainland. As Mary wheeled her cycle out again, she felt warmth bask her shoulders from the sun. Tante had taken her into St Peter Port and bought a new, more suitable wardrobe. She wore a white, long-sleeved blouse with a dove grey skirt, shorter than normal but easier for the cycle and Mary had never been so well dressed in all her life. This bothered her conscience, particularly today, as she knew where she was going to cycle.
Sam frowned as he watched her freewheel down the lane and shook his head dubiously. He felt sorry for her and was agitated at what might happen to her. Although the girl had a strong character she had not yet met Louise on the warpath. What would happen at the inevitable showdown?
Mary turned left and pedalled easily, not really wanting to arrive in one sense but, on the other hand, why was her heart fluttering with excitement?
She was quite unaware of an observer, carefully positioned with an old-fashioned telescope.
It was a gorgeous day and Mary admired the many open spring flowers and the new leaves. The sea was placid and she guessed it was still on the ebb, then grinned at herself. Already she had started to regulate her life by the tides because she had an empathy with the island and its ways.
She had learned much from Sam who was an excellent tutor. She had fallen into the habit of strolling with him in the evening after the cows had been milked. He had started to teach her Guernsey patois and Mary was smugly pleased with the way she was picking this up. Only last evening they had walked slowly with the cows moving ahead but taking their time as only cows will. One of the animals was particularly inquisitive and kept butting Mary’s skirt, trying to nibble her calves. In final exasperation Mary had swung around and, with hands on hips shouted, ‘Fiche le camp!’
Sam had let out a bellow of laughter and Mary was instantly disconcerted.
‘Did I say it wrong?’
‘Not at all!’ Sam croaked holding his ribs with mirth. ‘You just sounded so annoyed telling the cow to “buzz off”.’
‘Oh! That’s all right then!’ Mary told him quite delighted with herself.
Still quivering with amusement, Sam continued what he had been about to explain.
‘There is another old island custom which still holds force. It goes back to the Norman times but you should know about it. It’s the “Clameur de Haro”. If anyone is wronged and they feel deeply about the matter, they simply fall on their knees where the wrong took place and, before two witnesses, cry out “Haro! Haro! Haro!”.’
‘Three times?’ Mary asked with interest.
Sam nodded. ‘Then the aggrieved person must say, “A mon aide, mon prince! On me fait tort!” He or she must finally recite the Lord’s Prayer in French.’
Mary halted in astonishment. ‘What on earth does all that mean?’ she asked practically.
‘Such an action has the force of an immediate injunction!’ Sam told her. ‘It puts a halt to the wrong until a court action can take place and it’s a very powerful force, I can tell you!’
Mary was impressed. ‘Is that so?’ she murmured thoughtfully. ‘I think I’d better learn the Lord’s Prayer in French then. Who knows when I might need it!’ she said, half in joke. It never entered her head that a day might come when this joke became deadly serious.
‘Do people still actually use this ancient custom?’ she wanted to know next for it still appeared far-fetched to her logic.
‘Oh! My word they do!’ Sam replied forcefully.
Mary smiled at the vision of herself performing some such similar act on the mainland. The local policeman would have her locked up. She thought about this as she pedalled. What a lot she had learned and what a complete ignoramus she had been with Duret. She was a different person now but was this good or bad? She was unsure.
She reached the place, dismounted and pushed her cycle to the dip near the bushes. He was already there and her heart thundered. She climbed a slope and looked around, spotting him right away. He had been at the sea’s edge but, observing her, he stood, waved, then came bounding over. Two paces away, he skidded to a halt, his face alight with pleasure, his eyes sparkling a deep purple but did not speak. Eloquently, he simply held out his two hands to her.
Instinctively, Mary stepped forward two paces and placed hers in his then he drew her to him, looked deeply into her eyes for a few seconds before bending to kiss her. Mary felt his sweet taste and willingly, almost naturally, she slid into the protection of his arms to return his wholehearted affection.
Finally he pushed her back four inches and surveyed her. ‘I’m so glad you came!’
He had been terrified she wouldn’t, cold at what he would then have to do but now his day blossomed into sun and light. He tucked her arm under his and they walked slowly down to the sea where they had sat before. He took off his jacket, spread it on the warm grass and they sat down, both suddenly a little shy and apprehensive.
‘You do look lovely,’ he told her huskily.
Mary looked down and smoothed an imaginary crease away from her new skirt then, lifting her eyes, she smiled gently. Once again his close proximity affected her breathing and nerves in the strangest manner.
‘I have something to say,’ she started in a serious voice.
He almost flinched at her tone and held his breath.
‘I’m sorry about the way I spoke and behaved at our last meeting. I’ve had a shock because I have found out that Tante thinks just like you! It seems this island is different from the mainland in more ways than one,’ she said contritely.
A gentle smile lit his face as he picked up both of her hands to stroke them with his strong fingers, soothing and caressing.
‘That was handsomely done,’ he complimented her, then gave a heavy sigh. ‘I’ve had a bad time since I last saw you,’ he admitted.
‘Why? What has happened?’ she asked anxiously.
He pulled a face. ‘You!’ he told her simply.
For a few seconds she failed to understand, then squeezed his hands in return and gave a tiny shrug.
‘I can’t get you out of my mind, day or night,’ Victor said slowly. ‘I go about my work, doing it to the best of my ability but all the time I’m looking for you. At night I lie awake and see your face wreathed in the sea’s spray at the Rocques. I wake in the morning and you are still with me like an eternal dream spirit. I ache for you until I suffer pure pain. Oh, my beloved sea nymph, you have bewitched me utterly for all time,’ his voice was grave. ‘I have known other girls of course on Jersey but they were—’ One waving hand dismissed them impatiently. ‘But you, Mary Hinton? I love you! No! This is no sudden affectation. It is a true bolt of lightning. It’s the tip of your sword in my heart. You are my other, natural half—’ He paused and eyed her with even more feeling. ‘And I know, I just know, you feel the same too. We cannot fight it. All we can do is accept. Your aura even enfolds me as you sit alongside me here.’
‘Don’t!’ Mary cried, suddenly afraid. ‘You know I’m spoken for.’
‘No one is guaranteed until the gold band is on that finger!’ he retorted in a soft voice.
He kissed her again and Mary had neither strength nor will to object. Duret had never touched her core like this. Her defences crumbled.
‘Don’t let us waste our lives like Catherine and Heathcliff. Remember Wuthering Heights!’ he said suddenly, his voice urgent and demanding. ‘Marry me! Damn the Noyens! We can leave the island and go—go anywhere in the world! We have no parents, no family. We answer to no man. We are young, strong and healthy. We’ll make a home elsewhere and rear our children in South Africa, or New Zealand or Australia. Anywhere you say,’ he beseeched.
Mary pulled herself free. He was going much, much too fast. She felt tears prickle her eyes and shook her head helplessly. All he had said was true but the duplicity of running away secretly was not her way.
‘I’ll not bolt without telling Duret or Tante,’ she managed to get out despite the lump in her throat.
His face broke into a savage grin of triumph. ‘You will be my wife?’
‘I’m mad!’ Mary groaned to herself.
‘You have never been more sane!’ he cried and kissed her again with savage passion as if stamping his ownership on her.
Mary took a deep breath and pulled away. ‘Victor!’ she cried, lifting her right hand. ‘Do not stampede me. I cannot stand that. I must think about all this first because there are other people involved. Tante has been good to me, Duret must be told the truth and to his face as well. I’ll not do it through a letter’s ignominy. There is Sam too, a kind, loyal friend—’
‘I’ll tell Noyen for you!’ he growled, feeling a tinge of alarm.
