Sea Gem (10 page)

Mary stared back at her, lost for words, shaking her head a little, still numb with shock.

Louise sniffed impatiently. ‘For goodness’ sake, girl, you don’t think you could keep such carryings on secret from me, do you? Guernsey is a tiny island; everyone knows me.
It’s impossible to have a secret there. Anyhow, I went for a walk yesterday with my father’s old telescope. I saw you two from a slope,’ she added grimly.

Mary’s head whirled with shock. She was sure the sky would descend upon her next. Tante had seen her and Victor embracing and her cheeks went redder with embarrassment. How utterly
naïve she and Victor had been and she writhed with humiliation.

Louise tactfully ignored the open emotions on the girl’s face though she was crippled with wrath and frightened worry. Now was not the time for recriminations.

‘We’ll get a taxi or car to take us back to the station and catch the first available train, no matter what. With luck, we can catch tomorrow’s steamer and be back in Cobo that
evening. I doubt we’ll get any sleep but I don’t think that matters too much now, do you?’ she asked pointedly.

Long afterwards, Mary could remember no single, clear detail of the journey until they were settled on the steamer in a small private cabin, which Louise had bullied the steward into allocating
them with a hefty bribe. Mary’s respect for the older woman rose sky high. Neither of them had slept since leaving the island but Louise still sat straight-backed and moved on foot like a
general leading his troops. Mary wondered how she did it. Her head ached. There was pain in the middle of her back and a weakness in her legs as waves of lassitude threatened to engulf her.

Mary fought to copy Louise. She made herself sit straight even though muscles shrieked with fatigue. She said nothing but stared from the train window, thinking of no one but Duret now. She knew
she had reached a crossroads in her life and, deep down, she was torn in two. Love and guilt; duty and wanting clashed in her heart while her mind, still far too stunned, was incapable of coherent
thought.

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.