Sea Gem (26 page)

Mary pulled a face. ‘I gave my word.’

Old Tante put one brown age-spotted hand on Mary’s shoulder. ‘Don’t quarrel with him,’ she asked. ‘I’d hate him to stop coming here.’

Mary laughed then. ‘I can assure you nothing will stop Victor doing what he wants when he wants.’

So the next afternoon Mary quietly drove the trap around the coast road to their meeting. She was astonished to find she was wildly excited and chastised herself severely. She wore a skirt which
was old but which she liked. It came to just below her knees, daringly exposing a lot of leg. It was white with green dots and her blouse was the same shade of pale green. She wore sandals and had
brought a white cardigan with her. She knew she looked fresh and wholesome. Wearing her favourite perfume made her feel extra good and, under other circumstances, it would have been a gorgeous
afternoon.

He saw the trap coming and knew it was her, recognising the way she sat as he admired how she handled the reins. That cob was getting old though and he wondered when the family would buy
another. As she halted and tied the horse’s head to a post he stood up, in two minds whether to stride down to her, then made himself wait. His heart was like a machine gun with its rapid
rate of beat. The past two months had been a time of agony for him; a period in which he had been so quiet at home even Nicole had given him some strange looks. Victor knew he was powerless though.
He was not just besotted with Mary; his feelings went much deeper and were strong enough to keep him awake, night after agitated night.

Mary toiled up the path to him then stopped a pace away, smiling gently. How beautiful she was, he thought.

‘Thank you for coming,’ he said softly, then pointed behind him. ‘Let’s climb to the top and walk around the point,’ he invited.

Mary was glad to put off the evil moment and scrambled after him until they could stand together looking out over the sea that was two shades of green-blue depending upon the water’s
depth.

Mary threw a quick look around. They were certainly alone and for a second she felt a tiny pang of alarm but dismissed it, turning back to where he pointed out to sea in one particular
direction.

‘It’s a treacherous coastline we have on the west side,’ he told her. ‘Did you know that most shipping charts carry a “Caution” warning not to approach the
island nearer than three miles on this side?’

Mary became interested as always in anything to do with the island. ‘No, I did not.’

‘Way over there is the Hanois Bank which has always been a nightmare for mariners. A lot of good men have met their Maker on that reef. Further down is Lithou Island which can be reached
by a causeway at low tide but caution is needed. If someone’s halfway across and the tide has turned, they can die. The sea rips through in a fierce current. There used to be a priory there
to our Lady of Lithou but it’s a ruin now.’

Mary had heard of the island but not realised its exact position. ‘Doesn’t anyone go there now?’

He nodded. ‘Oh yes! Many people go over to collect the
vraic
. Gathering the seaweed from the foreshore used to be a very important industry. Then it was dried in the open air
before being burned in a brick-line pit. Iodine can be made from the ashes.’

Mary was grateful to him for his casual conversation; it helped to settle her nerves, which had started their usual jangle the moment she saw him. Victor looked around and pointed.

‘Let’s sit there,’ he suggested, leading the way back from the path to some short, dry grass, making a tiny dell between some furze bushes. Mary noted he had brought a rug,
which he placed on the ground and helped her to sit, before flopping down with his back to the sea so he could face her.

‘I still love you,’ he said simply and waited hopefully. Surely over these past weeks she had recovered from Duret’s death and would see sense? He had thought long and hard
about what they could do and though he had talked none of this over with Grandmère, he knew instinctively she would agree.

Mary simply looked blankly at him, almost hooding her eyes, hiding her feelings though a dull ache had entered her heart. He had not changed. He still thought he could wear her down with
persistence and charm. She suddenly realised this was going to be more difficult than she had anticipated.

‘Well, say something,’ he protested at her silence,’ even if it’s only to tell me you don’t like me!’

Mary smiled miserably. ‘You know that’s not true,’ she said, pausing a little uncertainly.

He reached over and grabbed one hand. ‘You are free now and—!’

‘But you are not,’ Mary said quickly.

‘I’ve decided to divorce Nicole!’

Mary caught her breath, then shook her head violently. ‘You can’t do that to her for having the bad fortune to marry you. That’s no remedy!’

‘I don’t really care for her. I never did,’ he said in a low voice, breaking off a piece of grass and twiddling with it before looking up at her again. ‘I only married
her in a fit of pique,’ he admitted.

‘She is the mother of your twins,’ Mary told him sternly. ‘I won’t be a party to anything like that!’

He leaned over and took her other hand. Instantly Mary knew what was going to happen. There was a look in his eyes that flashed fire for her, which she could not hold.

‘Mary! Oh my wonderful, spirited Mary!’ he crooned, pulling her nearer until she felt she was tumbling. ‘Don’t deny facts. I’ve told you before we’re made
only for each other. Look how the sun beams on us. Feel how soft the grass is. I want you, Mary. Let’s love each other again!’

Mary felt a surge of panic. She knew how strong he was but still struggled to free her hands. She must get away from him. She had been mad to agree to this meeting. Suddenly he was half over
her, his mouth seizing hers. She fought wildly, jerking and trying to knee him, anything to make him release her hands. Then with an effort she twisted and both hands shot from his grasp as he
grabbed her shoulders, pushing her down on her back, one hand plunging into the open neck of her blouse, fondling her breast.

Mary twisted her head aside and screeched at him, wriggling to get away but only making her skirt ride up more to expose long legs that inflamed him further. He shot one hand downwards while
hunting for her lips as all finesse left him. Once they had made love again she could not deny him and he knew he could then persuade her to follow his wishes.

Mary went berserk, twisting and writhing, visualising getting pregnant again through him. Hot anger exploded in a sheet of flame at his arrogance presumption that she would yield a second time.
Thrusting with her feet, her shoes found a hidden rock. Using it as a brace she pushed, twisted violently to the left and, with springy ankles, regained her feet. She stood panting down at him,
incoherent with fury. She gasped, sucking air into her lungs and turned to get back on the path and down to the safety of the trap, and home to Cobo.

He regained his feet with a bound, eyes narrow, nostrils pinched and eyes ablaze with desire. He prepared to grab her again when she jumped back another pace, one hand shot into a deep pocket in
her skirt and the tiny pistol appeared.

‘Stop!’ she hissed warningly.

Victor froze with astonishment, his jaw dropping with shock. He noted how firmly the pistol was held with a finger on the trigger. He recognised the make and realised he was well within
range.

‘You come one step nearer and I’ll shoot!’ Mary panted. ‘Don’t push me! I mean it, Victor!’

A slow, confident smile touched his lips. He shook his head. ‘Not me!’

This display of self-assurance infuriated Mary even more.

‘Give me that pistol,’ he said coolly, holding out his hand. The pulse pounded in his throat as he realised he had gone about this like a bull in a china shop. He should have aroused
her with love play and he groaned inwardly. It was the old story. She did something to him that pushed reason and sense aside.

‘I will shoot
!’

She sensed he was going to leap at her and remembered Sam’s words. She could not hit his middle. He would die! Had he gone crazy? Had he planned this? But her heart hardened. She was not a
bitch on heat to be taken with force. He leaped. Mary’s fast reflexes warned her one heartbeat before his feet moved. She swung the pistol’s barrel slightly to her right and fired
coolly. The derringer gave a tiny bark and the bullet hit his left upper arm with surprising power. He stopped dead in his tracks, looked down at the wound already showing blood, then over at her
with shocked disbelief.

‘You’ve just shot me!’

‘I’ve another bullet, Victor!’

‘Why you cold-blooded little bitch!’ he shouted as his right hand tried to stem the blood flow.

‘Get out of my life then, once and for all!’ Mary cried at him.

‘I’ll have you up in court for this!’ he shot back, wild-eyed with humiliation.

‘I’ll counter charge with intended rape!’ she retorted still keeping the pistol on him, steady and unwavering.

‘That’s illegal. I’ll have it taken away from you!’ he cried with frustration.

‘Then I’ll simply get another to deal with the likes of you!’ she spat at him.

‘Mary!’

She turned on her heel. Sweat poured from her forehead; her legs dithered and she knew she must get away from him and go home. Later, she would be in tears with shock. She had known she must end
their relationship but had never dreamed it would come to this. ‘Men!’ she stormed to herself as she began to slither back down the path. ‘I hate them all! All except Sam!’
she added as a rider.

She regained the road, ran to the cob, unfastened his head, leapt in the trap and, snapping the reins, hurried the old animal into a sharp trot to his surprise. She threw one look behind her. He
stood halfway down the path, one hand clasped to the left arm, bewilderment etched on every feature.

She drove back at a pace that made the cob sweat and that would annoy Sam but she knew she must hurry. Reaction had started to set in. She wanted a stiff brandy or whisky. She had to tell
someone but not just anyone. She knew she was going to have a fearsome headache later and she swore lustily to herself. Oh damn him, damn, damn,
DAMN
! Why couldn’t he just accept the
situation as she did?

She turned up her home lane and brought the cob to a sharp halt, jumped from the trap and ran up Tante’s path, bursting in without even a knock. The old woman was startled and so was Sam
who, smoking his pipe, was allowing himself the luxury of some idleness now that Raoul was around.

Mary halted abruptly, white-faced, tense and angry. ‘I’ve just left your grandson,’ she told the old woman. She felt far too angry to be diplomatic. ‘He tried to rape me
so I’ve shot him!’

‘You’ve what!’ Tante gasped, eyes opening wide with disbelief.

‘Oh no!’ Sam groaned, closing his eyes.

‘Yes I did!’ Mary stormed. ‘I’m not someone to be pushed on my back just because he has an infatuation. I’ve told him and told him until I’m blue in the face
but he thinks because he is bigger and stronger, he can do just as he likes. Well, he can’t! It’s over! Finished! I never want to see or speak to him again. In future, Tante, I’ll
be obliged if you’d inform me when he’s coming to visit you so I can make sure I’m elsewhere and Sam, if he attempts to set foot on the house property, you are to get the
constable!’

Sam collected his wits. ‘Is he badly hurt?’ he asked practically, standing ready to get a doctor.

‘I’ve winged his left arm. It’s only a flesh wound,’ Mary said without sympathy.

‘Where is the pistol?’ Sam wanted to know next.

‘With me and that’s where it stays!’

Tante gulped and flashed a look at Sam. She had known nothing about a pistol but commonsense told her how and why Mary had acquired one.

‘I’ll drive round and see how he is,’ Sam grunted, tamping out his pipe. ‘I’ll try and keep this quiet but it all depends upon le Page,’ he pointed out.

‘One word in public from him and I’ll scream rape!’ Mary promised hotly.

Both Sam and Tante could see she meant it. Tante smothered a groan. Where were all the delicious plans she had dared to make? Let enough time elapse and perhaps something might be tactfully
arranged regarding Nicole. Louise knew more about Nicole’s family than was realised and also she knew that money was capable of opening many doors seemingly shut. Her scheming mind had toyed
with the idea of persuading Nicole to divorce on the mainland with money as the bait. Victor could have gone there too for an arranged adultery then, in due course, Mary and Victor could have
married. The family would have ended up with the best of both worlds. True Penford blood and a very strong man as family head.

Now she swore to herself. Mary’s temper was aroused. Despite any latent suspicions she harboured regarding Edwin, Louise knew the family now had a real schism that made the Duret affair
elementary. Both Mary and Victor were knuckle-headed; neither would ever give way; one from righteous indignation and the other from masculine pride.

‘Go on, Sam,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Sort something out and let me know.’

Mary felt her rage evaporating. Later she would talk to Tante about it all but right now was not the time. She was going home and would talk to no one. She would climb the stairs to her sewing
room, shut the door and have a long, bitter, private cry.

Mary flashed her teeth in a wide grin and pressed down a little harder on the accelerator. She adored her car and, with the hood down on this warm day, she felt wildly happy
and carefree. She wore her new tan-coloured linen slacks with a tan and white shirt to match. Around her neck she had casually fastened a white chiffon scarf which flowed behind like a triumphant
pennant. She was bareheaded as always, her hair shaped short and in a cheeky cut while her skin was tanned from the weather. She was out of doors as much as possible and at thirty-three felt better
than at any time in her life. She flung a mischievous glance at her companion.

Tante sat nervously poised, one hand restraining a large-brimmed white hat which threatened to depart in a rush. The old lady, now an incredible eighty-three years, was not so sure about this
method of transport. She had felt much safer in an old-fashioned pony and trap.