by Mary Beeken
When Michael brought them in the victors, they turned to watch the others by which time Charlotte had somehow managed to turn the little red boat around and was heading back to the island.
A while later, Erica caught up with Charlotte at the refreshment table.
“I hope Trevellyn did not upset you too much.”
“Oh no, not at all. Do you know he was so kind to me even though I lost the race,” assured Charlotte. “He said he would teach me so that next year I can impress you all with my skill. Isn’t that thoughtful?”
“Yes very.” replied Erica, hardly believing her ears.
The afternoon progressed to the huge enjoyment of all ages. Following the boat race was the paddling race, which was for the young children who had yet to learn to swim and then the swimming races began in earnest.
Erica had supervised many of the early races involving the children and was taken a well-earned rest on one of the recliner chairs when an invitingly cool glass of lemonade was held out in front of her.
“You look like you could do with this.” Trevellyn waited until she had taken the glass before sitting down in the chair next to her.
“You have impressed Charlotte with your patience, My Lord,” she said after taking a refreshing sip of the drink he had brought for her. “I didn’t think you had it in you to be so magnanimous. I only hope you will remain so when you are married!”
“Charlotte was doing her best; and contrary to what you may believe, I am not a monster,” he replied mildly.
“Really? You do surprise me! Actually joking aside, I’m glad you weren’t upset with Charlotte. She is a lovely girl and will make an exceptional wife.”
“Unlike you?” he asked slightly mocking.
“Unlike me,” she confirmed with a decisive nod.
“Isn’t that your race about to start?”
“Sorry?” Erica looked puzzled
“I can see Fiona, Charlotte and the other young ladies preparing for the race. Shouldn’t you be going down to the start?”
“No. I’m not entering.”
“Why not? I would have thought with your competitive nature you would want to thrash your cousins. Don’t tell me you cannot swim!”
“I am only competitive with you and that’s because you’re obnoxious. And yes, I can swim,” she retorted.
“I think you are deceiving yourself sweetheart for I believe you are competitive by nature.”
When she opened her mouth to dispute him he held his hand up and continued; “But we will have to agree to disagree on that one, I see. So there must be another reason why you’re not swimming.”
When she did not answer but remained silent, Trevellyn raised an eyebrow and waited.
“Oh very well,” she said, “I am going to regret telling you, but if you must know I am scared of deep water. I hate being out of my depth and have a tendency to panic.”
“That’s nothing of which to be ashamed. It is a very understandable fear and definitely not one I can use against you in our war; so rest easy,” he assured her.
She smiled at him then and muttered, “I hope you are not planning to make a habit of being nice to me My Lord, for it would make me feel awful when I have vanquished you.”
“No its definitely a one off occurrence, never fear,” he returned her smile before putting his head back and closing his eyes.
“Time for a siesta I think, before I am called upon to show myself a superior swimmer.”
“You are in for a shock Trevellyn. My family are all excellent swimmers and will leave you floundering, I fear.”
“I think not sweetheart! I think not.”
After the serious races; and much to Erica’s chagrin Trevellyn won the young men’s race, came the fun activities. One such activity was the pillow fight; a knockout contest whereby two people battled it out whilst standing in a boat tethered a little way out in the lake. The winner was the one who managed to defeat the most opponents by knocking them into the water. Although it had initially been divided into male and female because of the disparity of size and strength, this edict had been fairly quickly overturned when Fiona had declared her intention of showing her intended who was going to be boss when they married. Stephen had laughingly submitted to her request; brashly boasting that he would defeat her with one blow. Fiona angelically smiled as he assisted her into the boat and then turned into a demon, getting in several blows before Stephen could even pick up his pillow.
“Hey! That’s cheating!” he shouted as one particular blow had him struggling to retain his balance.
“All’s fair, darling!” Fiona answered, thwacking him relentlessly again and again.
But Stephen was not about to let her win. He began rocking the boat by shifting his weight from one leg to the other so that Fiona had to stop attacking and concentrate on retaining her balance. Stephen then grabbed up his weapon and swung at her and before she had time to recover, he landed another hit that sent her toppling over the side with a splash.
“All’s fair darling,” he grinned.
The men and boys let up a great cheer while the women and girls moaned.
“Oh no, we’re never hear the end of this,” sighed Sophie.
“Someone needs to salvage our honour,” declared Aunt Clara; eyeing her young female relatives in an intimidating manner.
“Go on Erica! Go and show them,” piped up Charlotte.
“Yes Erica, you’d soon sort him,” agreed Jennifer.
“Now wait a moment!” Erica stated “I think Aunt Clara would be much better than me!”
“Don’t be silly girl; I’m far too old!” Aunt Clara retorted, “You have been nominated so of you go, and remember, the honour of all your female kin is riding on your shoulders.”
“Thank you so much,” Erica uttered sarcastically before stomping off to issue a challenge to Stephen.
Erica, after a shaky start, found she had quite a talent for it. She realized that to bombard the opponent incessantly and to aim the blows primarily at the head with the occasional surprise attack on the midriff or legs, prevented him from throwing any counter blows. Amidst high pitched shrieks of encouragement from her supporters, Erica landed a blow that sent Stephen precariously off balance and then finished him off with a punishing blow to his back.
Aunt Clara sent up a whoop of delight and began to do a jig with all the women while the men berated Stephen, who was hotly trying to defend himself.
“You go out there and face her then.”
“Beaten by a slip of a girl,” Uncle William shook his head.
“Slip of a girl, my foot!” Stephen exclaimed, “She’s a sprite; make no mistake.”
“How can you say that?” asked Gerald. “She’s a weak girl that’s all!”
“As if you didn’t know better!” Stephen was stung into saying. “She got the better of both you and Michael countless times in the past.”
“Rubbish,” joined in Michael. “We let her win!”
“Sure you did. Then you won’t mind challenging her now will you?”
“Someone had better take her on,” interrupted Great Uncle James. “Can’t have the womenfolk lording it over us, you know.”
Picking up a pillow, Trevellyn said, “I’d be delighted to rout the little sprite. Leave it to me gentleman.”
So saying he waded out to the boat but instead of climbing in straight away, he stood looking up at her with what could only be described as a devilish grin on his face.
“Would you like to throw down your pillow now?”
“Obviously not. I fear you have been very imprudent My Lord for this will only end in humiliation for you.”
“Brave words, sweetheart but foolish.”
With an unexpected agility, Trevellyn leapt into the boat and gained his balance before Erica could get many blows in. It did not deter her and she stuck to her tried and tested battle strategies. Trevellyn having watched her fight with Stephen knew what to expect, and he therefore went on the defensive rather than
the offensive. He realized that, fighting as she was; she would tire quickly and then would come his opportunity to send her into a watery defeat. He had not allowed for Erica’s sheer determination to beat him or the fact that she was not averse to using underhand tactics. Appreciating that her strength would soon be spent she went on one last rampage of hits all the time edging closer, and when she was in reach, she stamped down hard on his bare foot. While he hopped about she grabbed an oar and used it to push him into the lake.
The crowd went wild!
Erica knelt down and holding onto the side of the boat, leaned over to watch Trevellyn as he struggled to stand in the waist high water.
“Brave words but true, My Lord,” she misquoted. “I believe this battle goes to me. Oh the taste of victory is so sweet is it not?”
Trevellyn shielded from the onlookers by the boat leaned forward and swiftly kissed her on the lips. “Yes, I can taste it on your lips but it is unlikely to remain there for long so savour it, my sweetheart.”
Erica was so taken aback that she could think of no riposte and by the time she had recovered, Trevellyn had taken hold of the rope securing the boat and had pulled her to shore.
“Behold the winner,” he declared, “Definitely one worthy of the title: Champion!”
Erica could not help a delicious little shiver as he placed his hands around her waist and lifted her onto dry land. He kept his hands there a fraction longer than was necessary and a frisson of desire swept through her as his gaze met and held hers. No one, Erica was relieved to note, seemed to have noticed and she naively hoped that Trevellyn himself would not have recognized the turmoil his touch had had upon her.
“To save face and retrieve some respectability from this,” Gerald announced, “I suggest to all my male relatives that we now view this not as a victory for the women but one for the family. The Wilmshursts are victorious!”
“Oh no you don’t young man!” Aunt Hebe struck him with a pillow. “You men lost and that’s an end to it!”
And to everyone’s delight she continued to pound him until he said,
“Yes aunt. Sorry Aunt. The ladies won, Aunt”
It was a natural conclusion to the afternoon’s events and everyone made their way back to the house weary but happy.
Dinner that evening was a much more subdued affair as everyone was feeling the affects of a day in the sun and strenuous activity. Trevellyn again sat next to Charlotte but manoeuvred them both into a position whereby he was also next to Erica who was conversing with Michael sitting opposite her. Commonsense and observation had told him that they enjoyed a brother and sister relationship but he could not prevent a stab of unreasonable jealousy at seeing them together. He was still seriously considering Charlotte as a potential bride; she was all that was elegant and poised as befitting a future duchess, but he found his thoughts were increasingly of Erica. His dreams; over which he had no control, were positively erotic and consisted of him making love to her in a number of different positions and locations. He had, God help him, even started to daydream, for even now he was thinking of ripping her clothes off and taking her on the table, amidst the silver cutlery and flower displays!
He quickly averted his eyes from her delectable person and caught his mother watching him with a knowing smile on her face. Trevellyn fervently hoped she hadn’t read his thoughts and could not prevent a slight blush, which he hoped his mother would put down to the wine and the heat. He was not to be that fortunate, it seemed, for she turned and made a remark to his father who also looked down the table at him with the self same smile mirrored on his face.
“God help me!” muttered Trevellyn under his breath as he looked back at them with a scowl.
“I beg your pardon, My Lord. Did you speak?” asked Erica who had not missed the looks that had passed between the trio but had been unable to interpret them fully.
No, Miss Wilmshurst, I was merely clearing my throat.”
“Nothing to do with the look your parents have just given you then, My Lord,” she taunted.
“Look, Miss Wilmshurst?” he was prepared to play her little game. “What look would that be?”
“Oh you know, My Lord,” she persisted.
“No Miss Wilmshurst, I don’t. Perhaps you could describe it for me?”
“A look that suggested you had been caught out doing something naughty, My Lord.”
“And you are familiar with this look, Miss Wilmshurst? Are you very naughty?”
“Yes, My Lord. Uncle Richard had the same look whenever he caught us doing something nefarious and No, My Lord. I was naughty in my childhood, not now.”
“Are you sure, Miss Wilmshurst?”
“Oh yes, My Lord. I am not the one receiving the look. Have you been doing something naughty, My Lord?”
No Miss Wilmshurst, I am the pattern card of goodness.”
“Then why did you blush My Lord, when your mother gave you the look?”
“Blush, Miss Wilmshurst? You mistake. It is merely the warmth of a summer’s evening.”
She snorted her disbelief and he could not resist adding once he had ascertained no one else was listening,
“And the thought of making love to you on this table!”
Erica who was in the act of sipping her wine, choked. Trevellyn patted her on the back but she tried to swat his hand away.
Many people turned in concern to look at her and Trevellyn smiled and announced. “She’s eating too fast. I told her to slow down and not to shovel her food but she says her gladiatorial performance this afternoon has left her famished!”
Erica could not cavil. She was too busy trying to breath and by the time she had any spare breath with which to deny his comment, everyone had returned to his or her own conversation.
Trevellyn smiled innocently at her and asked, “Better now, sweetheart?”
“Don’t call me sweetheart!”
“Would you prefer darling girl?”
Her only answer was to hunch her shoulder at him and turn to talk to her neighbour on the other side. She therefore missed her tormenter raise his glass to his mother and father who sat beaming at him.
Unfortunately for Erica, Fiona was her other neighbour who immediately launched into a told you so conversation.
“You see, Erica. He is more interested in you than he is Charlotte.”
“Don’t start that again, Fiona” she sighed.
“But how can you deny it when he has been monopolizing your attention since we sat down to dinner.”
“It’s only been about ten minutes.”
“And the rest!”
“Don’t exaggerate. And besides you’ve spent the same amount of time talking to Charlie and I’m not reading anything into it,” Erica retorted.
“Yes but the content of our conversation was innocent.”
Erica lied without compunction “So was ours.”
Fiona came back with “Not the snippets I heard.”
Erica eyed her suspiciously, “How can you have heard anything when you were engrossed in your chat with Charlie?”
“Actually I was more engrossed in eavesdropping on you and Trevellyn,” Fiona admitted. “It was much more interesting than anything Charlie had to say.”
“Fiona! You are incorrigible!”
“Yes I know! But come on! Tell me the bits I missed.”
“No. Besides you probably misconstrued what you heard anyway; eavesdroppers always do,” Erica said dismissively, although knowing it would be difficult to misinterpret Trevellyn’s final comment.
“Actually I think you will find that the saying says that they never hear good of themselves, but I take the hint. You don’t want to tell me. That’s perfectly fine though because I’ll just fill in the gaps myself.”
Fiona waited but Erica, knowing her cousin very well, gambled on her bluffing as to how much she had overheard and said, “Feel free Fiona. Then it is sure to be more salacious than it actually was.”
Erica then turned to Michael as her l
ast hope of conducting a safe and comfortable conversation. Thankfully he complied and the rest of the meal passed smoothly as far as Erica was concerned.
It was an incredibly beautiful evening and Erica, feeling the need for some quiet alone time after a hectic and emotionally trying day, slipped surreptitiously outside after dinner. She headed for the end of the terrace and crept around the edge of the house where, away from the lights of the drawing room, she could see the clear night sky and marvel at the thousands of stars that glittered in the velvet expanse of night. Leaning against the balustrade, she breathed in deeply, relishing the smell of honeysuckle and the balmy quality of a warm summer’s night. A fleeting movement out of the corner of her eye was the only warning she had that she was not alone and before she could react in any way, a hand was clamped around her mouth and once again a strong arm imprisoned her against a toned and muscular body. Erica knew who it was before the whispered assurance that she was in no danger.
“How fortuitous my darling girl that you chose to enjoy the night sky at the same time as me. Perhaps we could enjoy it together?”
He released her but remained close.
“Why did you grab me like that? You frightened me half out of my wits,” Erica accused him angrily.
“Because I was afraid you might scream sweetheart if I had just said hello when you had obviously no idea I was there,” he replied “and I did not want all and sundry to descend upon us. Think of your reputation”
“My reputation is faultless and my family would never think ill of me. Besides I never scream!”
Trevellyn looked up at the sky and breathed in, very much as Erica herself had done.
“It’s awesome isn’t it? When I was a boy I used to lie out on nights like this and imagine it was possible to travel to all those stars.”
“It makes me feel very small and insignificant,” Erica told him.
“You insignificant? Never, sweetheart.”
She laughed and then said, “I can only ever see ‘The plough’. Both Gerald and Michael used to point out the other constellations but I could never make them out.”