Sea Gem (13 page)

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.