Sea Gem (11 page)

‘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.’

Mary’s thoughts were mixed. She was conscious again of the heavy diamond on her finger and she had a fleeting vision of Victor, then she firmly pushed him away. She had committed herself,
of her own free will. She would not cheat Duret but what did shellshock do to a man? There was a niggle of unease in the pit of her stomach as wild doubt rose again but wilfully she pushed that
aside as well. Now she must devote herself to Duret and think only of him.

Slowly Duret looked around. His eyes took in the house, the nearby fields, then he slipped her arm into his and they strolled gently down the lane.

‘I wrote many letters to you,’ Duret confided slowly. ‘I wanted to say so much but when I reread them, my letters did not seem right so I tore them up. I sent my poems
instead.’

Mary hesitated at this as they stopped and she leaned forward to retie the sling on one arm. She was nervously glad of something to do with her hands. Acute shyness engulfed her now.

‘Is your arm painful?’ she asked gently.

Duret shook his head while a warm glow filled him. When he finally met war, he had been utterly horrified. The glory image vanished with the first German shelling. Life turned into a nightmare
existence. He could remember nothing of the explosion but had regained consciousness to find himself buried, almost smothered. He had panicked, making his position worse and only exhaustion had
stayed his savage floundering. When realisation did dawn, the horror had been too much. His weak mind had mercifully blacked out consciousness and it was only the sound of shovelling which had
brought him back to wakefulness. He had been pulled into fresh air with soil clogging his eyes and ears and he had cried like a child.

Just before his release the doctor had talked to him gently. It had taken Duret a little while to understand what the simple words meant once the medical terms had been explained to him. There
was little wrong with him physically but he could expect nightmares for a long time to come.

It was this that horrified Duret. He was on the verge of matrimony. What if he had an attack in the marriage bed? Would Mary despise him? He felt an internal desperation but knew he could not
yet put this fear into speech. He was critically honest with himself. Duret knew perfectly well he was a poor specimen compared to his dead brother Charles. All his grandmother’s powerful
ambitions would settle upon his back. It was a horrifying realisation. He loved the old woman dearly and he admired her for the way she had reared him, acting for both long-dead parents but Louise
Noyen’s powerful will made her far too strong a character for Duret. There were times when she terrified him.

His escape to the army had been nothing but his personal protest at her domination and the way she appeared to think she could organise his life. He never stopped thanking fate for the way in
which he had been able to meet Mary Hinton. He marvelled at his daring in persuading her to come to his island. Even her acceptance of his ring with her proviso meant he was a man in his own right;
no longer subject to petticoat domination.

On the battlefield though, he had suffered a hundred agonies in scenes in which Mary met someone else. A more brisk, tougher man like brother Charles. When Sam finally came to collect him, there
was a note from grandmother.

‘If you want the girl, don’t delay,’ it had said with cryptic bluntness.

Duret had been horrified and questioned Sam who had, with customary island bluntness, merely grunted and echoed grandmother’s comment without elaboration.

‘Marry me! Marry me now!’ he demanded, halting, kissing her, taking her quite by surprise.

Mary was astonished, unprepared for this display of ardour. She had not thought Duret so capable and her heart lightened, her fears receded. She had one tiny vision of Victor’s face, which
then dissolved as Duret claimed her complete attention.

‘Of course, I will,’ she murmured, yielding to his arms, her spirit lifting. It was going to be all right after all. Her heart swelled for Duret. She would make him well again and,
she reminded herself, after Tante’s warning, she would be patient when he had nightmares. Quite suddenly, life shone bright and hopeful with not one worry on the horizon.

* * *

Exactly eight days later Mary, now a Noyen, clutched Duret’s arm in happiness as Sark loomed before them sitting high in the sea, bathed in rich, spring sunshine. Their
wedding had been wonderfully quiet and secret, managed discreetly by Tante and now, at last, they were alone. Mary thought of the bottle of pills in her handbag, passed over surreptitiously by
Tante at the last moment.

‘God bless you my dear,’ Louise had said, resting one hand on Mary’s shoulder as relief filled her eyes. ‘By the time you two return, I’ll have moved down the lane
to my little cottage and the big house will be yours.’

Duret was quiet but kept squeezing her arm and Mary felt a rare tranquillity. Tante had dragged her around the capital and bought her a simple dove-grey suit with red accessories for her
marriage while Duret had worn his uniform.

There had been only two non-family witnesses present in the form of Sam and Emily. There had been a delightful wedding breakfast then it had been time to catch the ferry to Sark for the
nine-mile crossing. As their boat tied up at the minute quay, she peeped at Duret who stared, wide eyed, at the steep road leading up to the top of the island. She wondered at what he was
thinking.

Unknown to her, Duret had found it a disappointing day. He was proud of his Mary and had wanted nothing more than for the whole island to come to their wedding. He had been put out when his
grandmother had stated it must be quiet. To start with, his bottom lip had come out and trembled in the start of a sulk which ominous sign Louise had not missed. She had taken him aside and
explained that Mary was shy and that
he
must help her. This cunning ploy had worked where an argument would have failed. Duret had swelled with pride and been extra solicitous to his
bride, accepting her wishes and the ceremony passed off without problems. Now he felt very manly as he helped her disembark from the small, swaying ferry and kept an eye on their baggage as it was
loaded into the cart that the horses would pull up the long hill.

They had booked a tiny cottage for a week and Mary had to admit that Duret saw to everything admirably. They transferred to a trap and the driver deposited them at their honeymoon home. Inside
food had been left ready and they ate a quiet meal, with Mary feeling the first tremors of apprehension. So far, Victor had been pushed firmly from her mind in the whirlpool of events and
arrangements but now, for the first time, his handsome face intruded. She felt a slightly sick feeling at the meeting she must have with him in the future, then stoically banished it from her
mind.

Later the gulls wheeled and screeched as she leaned from the bedroom window and looked out. Somewhere near the sea gurgled and hissed then thundered on some nearby rocks. Duret joined her and
Mary smiled shyly at him. Immediately he dropped their bags, came over to her and put his arm around her shoulders. He was so proud of his wife that he bubbled to write a verse about their day
soon.

‘Alone at last!’ Mary murmured to him, smiling gently.

Duret threw her a gentle grin. ‘Grandmère can be overpowering at times but she can get things done. No one dare argue with her,’ he replied ruefully. Mary turned back to the
view, her left hand on the open window sill and she looked down at the thick, gold band which nestled against the magnificent diamond ring.

Duret stroked her hair, suddenly acutely aware of her sensitivity. He was no timid virgin himself. His mates had seen to his initiation in an appropriate brothel but this was his wife. He could
not approach her like a whore. His little self-confidence had been badly shaken by his experience but much as he yearned to lean on his strong Mary, his instinct told him now was the time when he
must lead.

‘I’ll go and lock up,’ he muttered and clumped down the narrow wooden stairs leaving Mary thankfully alone. For just a few seconds she could not help but make a comparison
between Duret and Victor as she undressed but, by the time Duret returned, she was between the sheets, serene and composed.