The Youngest Bridesmaid (11 page)

The road which had been winding uphill for some time now suddenly converged into open country, banks gave way to low stone walls and quite suddenly Lou seemed to be on the edge of the world.

“
There
’
s the sea for you,
”
Piers said, stopping the
car.

They were at the top of a great chain of cliffs, stretching jaggedly into the distance, with the road like a torn thread running ahead through the falling darkness. The sound of the breakers far below and the wind whining across miles of desolate country sent a momentary shiver of apprehension through
Lou. Such complete isolation with a stranger whose moods, she felt, could well match this savage territory brought the first doubts to her mind.

“Cold?” he asked, aware that very much earlier he had put down the hood of the car without reference to her comfort.

“No.”

“Scared, then?”

She answered, as before, quite simply: “Yes, I am a little scared. This country is as strange to me, as you are. I—I may not measure up.”

“So you’ve said before. And you think Melissa would?”

She could not picture her pleasure-seeking cousin putting up for very long with nature in the raw, but she only replied gently:

“
Melissa can measure up to most things, I should think. You didn
’
t anyway, I imagine, suggest bringing her here for a honeymoon.
”

He gave her another of those quick little glances
,
as if those apparently innocent observations puzzled him.

“
That,
”
he said,
“
would have been asking a little much of both of us.
”

“
What an odd thing to say.
”

“
Is it? I had no illusions about the fair Melissa.
She had it all nicely worked out that she would, in due course, persuade me to sell Rune, so the longer I kept her away from the island the longer the inevitable clash would be postponed. Rune would have bored her to tears.
”

H
e sounded so bitter when Melissa
’
s name was mentioned that Lou thought Cousin Blanche must
be mistaken when she had declared this to be no love match on Piers
’
side. It was not pleasant
, the
youngest bridesmaid thought uneasily, to be married out of pique and share the bridegroom with the ghost of his rightful bride. Lou pulled the borrowed mink
more closely about her, shivering again, and in one of those strange moments of perception, he cupped her chin in his hand and turned her face up to his.

“
You feel I
’
ve taken an unfair advantage, don
’
t you?
”
he said.
“
You think because I
’
m bringing you straight to Rune I don
’
t consider you worth spending money or trouble on. You couldn
’
t be more wrong. When you know me better you
’
ll understand I
’
m paying you a compliment.
”

She experienced a rush of warmth towards him, for there was the promise of comfort in his suddenly intent regard, tenderness in the light touch of his fingers.

“
Because you
’
re willing to share your island with me?
”
she asked shyly. He was, everyone said, absurdly jealous of his rights over his small kin
gd
om.

“
Perhaps,
”
he replied with an enigmatic little smile,
“
but that will be up to you, my dear.
”

So it was to be a testing time for her, she thought, feeling unexpectedly angry, and when she spoke he heard with surprise the change in her voice.

“
It will be up to you too, Piers. You married me,
”
she said, and he turned the ignition key with a click of finality as if anxious to end a conversation that was becoming-too personal.

“
So I did. You must remind me of that from time to time,
”
he said, and drove on.

It was quite dark when they reached the tiny hamlet of St. Bede from where Piers said a launch would take them to the island. A boatsman was waiting at the jetty, but there was no one else about. Lou stood on the little stone pier straining her eyes
t
o see if she could make out the shape of the island in the darkness while the luggage was unloaded from the car. The broad, silent Cornishman had greeted Piers monosyllabically, glanced incuriously at his bride, then, steadied the launch as Piers picked Lou up and swung her over the side. She sat where she was told, feeling the spray on her face and the wind in her hair, wondering how far they had to go. Piers took the helm himself while the boatman got a pipe going, then settled from habit into the role of passenger. Nobody spoke at all.

T
heir passage took little time, for the island was not much more than a mile out from the mainland,
and presently Lou could see lights and a dark mass lying like some strange monster in the water, and a sense of excitement gripped her. Was it not a perfectly natural sequence in the fairy tale to be brought by boat to an island and the unknown vastness of the Prince
’
s castle?

She disembarked clumsily, not waiting for a steadying hand, in her eagerness to set foot on Rune, and fell awkwardly on the slippery cobbles.

“
For heaven
’
s sake don
’
t make a habit of that until you
’
re more practised with boats or you
’
ll find yourself in the drink,
”
Piers rebuked her sharply, then turned to greet and then accompany a couple of men with the luggage up to the house, either forgetting or ignoring her.

L
ou followed them, feeling a little crestfallen and slipping every so often on the rough stones which formed steps up to a small terrace. For a moment she experienced a pang of disappointment, for the house, built of the local stone and slate, was stark and unimposing and not very big. She had, she supposed, so convinced of the story-book unreality of the past three days, expected a castle with turrets
,
fife and battlements and even a drawbridge. Piers, turning, saw the look on her face as she stood staring in the lamplight which flooded out of the open door, and laughed aloud.

“
My poor Cinderella, were you expecting a palace?
”
he said.
“
You
’
ll find my home very simple and unpretentious, I
’
m afraid. Come on in and get the feel of the house.
”

He was over the threshold, holding the door for her, and as he saw her hesitate his smile became a little mocking.

“
Are you superstitious, Lou? Well, I can oblige you over one of the many conventions I seem to have cheated you out of,
”
he said, and picking her up, carried her over the threshold.

She was pliant and incredibly light in his arms, but as he put her down he felt her sudden withdrawal.

“
That wasn
’
t necessary,
”
she said, trying to match his
own barely concealed impatience with traditional customs.

“
But you expected it, didn
’
t you? You
’
ve expected a good many things that I
’
ve failed to
appreciate, I
’
m afraid.
”

“
I
’
ve expected nothing,
”
she said sturdily, blinking back the tears which she had fought back too long and too valiantly. Such a little thing to make one want to weep, such an empty gesture of convention to please a bride
who knew too well that she meant little or nothing to a man who was simply paying off old scores.

“
Then you must mend your ways, Cinderella,
”
he said softly.
“
If you expect nothing you get nothing—only pumpkins and white mice. Come along and
m
eet Tibby, f
o
r you
’
ll need her approval far more than y
o
u
’
ll need mine.
”

II

Lou, her courage nearly drained, did not feel that she made much of a hit with Tibby. She came from the back regions, presumably the kitchen, to meet them, a thin, rather gaunt old woman, very upright and very observant. She had, it transpired, been Piers
’
nurse, but
had kept house for him on the island ever since he bought it. It seemed odd to Lou, trying to make the right responses, to think of Piers with a nanny, and she, who had never known
one of her own, was disappointed in Tibby as she had been disappointed in the house. Nannies, she had vaguely supposed, were plump and co
m
fortable and, when one retired, indulgent recipients of confidences, ready to spoil because it no longer mattered, but Tibby invited none of these imageries. She welcomed Piers with pleasure but reserve, and turned an appraising eye on his bride. Lou immediately felt she was found wanting. If Tibby had ever met Melissa, indee
d
, even if she had not, she was bound to make comparisons.

“
I
’
d have thought you
’
d more sense, Mr. Piers,
”
was her first uncompromising comment.
“
Cradle-snatching
’
s the
first
sign
of old age. What possessed you?
”

“I don’t know, Tibby, unless I had a sudden moment of intuition,” Piers answered lazily.

“Intuition my foot! Temper more like—I’ve read the papers.”

“You should never believe all you read in the press, Tibby dear, and you must be nice to my little bride. She has much to learn about our life here.”

“She’ll learn nothing you’re not willing to teach yourself, but that, most like, will amuse you for a time.”

“
You will have gathered that Tibby has a poor opinion of me as a prospective husband,
”
he said
,
cocking an eyebrow at Lou and she had the unhappy impression that they were both merely using her as the excuse for a familiar sparring match, and she wondered how Melissa would have dealt with this old woman who clearly had little respect or patience for tender feelings. But Melissa, of course, would not have cared. She would have made a few gracious overtures because it was a good thing to be charming to servants, then written Tibby o
ff
as a tiresome old bore and tried to persuade Piers to pension her o
ff.
Too tired to pay attention to their voices any longer, Lou let her eyes wander over her new home, or as much of it as she could see from where they stood.
Get the feel of the house,
Piers had said, and she began to realize that the disappointing fa
c
ade had been misleading. The house had a depth one would not suspect from the front, or someone had built on and created a surprising illusion of space. Stone passages led of
f
the wide hall, high and vaulted, with steps going up and steps going down to other rooms; a great stove, ugly but efficient, radiated a comforting warmth, and oil lamps cast distorted shadows on the whitewashed walls.

“
Rather bare and monastic, are you thinking?
”
Piers said suddenly, making her jump, and she became aware that they were both watching her,
Piers with a hint of amusement, Tibby with pursed lips and an expression that could be termed pawky. It could matter to neither of them, she rejected, what she thought of the house, so she said nothing.

“
You
’
ll be wanting your room, maybe?
”
the old woman said with a belated sense of her duties, and without waiting for an answer led the way upstairs.

The room Lou found herse
l
f in was high and narrow with rush matting covering the
fl
oor and a bed that looked comfortable but unwelcoming with its utilitarian air of severity and plain, dark spread. A door leading to another room stood ajar, and through it Lou glimpsed
fire
light dickering on Persian ru
g
s and the gleaming patina of polished wood, a room to which this bare, impersonal chamber was clearly an annexe.

“
Would you
l
i
ke me to unpack for you?
”
Tibby said, and Lou caught hostility beneath an o
ff
er which was, she was sure, not intended to be taken
s
eriously.

“
No, thank you,
”
she replied politely, accepting with a sinking heart the fact that the old woman seemed to have taken a dislike to her, then she became aware that Piers had followed them up and was standing in the doorway with raised eyebrows.

“
Why haven
’
t you had the bed moved?
”
he asked.