“You must be Miss Fullerton. Peter has told me about you. You are staying in Biarritz in the hope of finding some lost friends, are you not?”
Although well into his forties, Georges-Henri was a very attractive man. Marina did not doubt that he probably had many beautiful women at his beck and call.
“They are lost no more for I have located them,”
replied Marina, who found his steady gaze quite unnerving.
She was forced to remind herself that all Frenchmen were this way with women.
“Then, that is good news,” he replied. “Will you stay on in Biarritz?”
“I do believe I shall. My friends have invited me to spend the summer here with them.”
“I hope that Sir Peter does not keep you all to himself then,” answered Georges-Henri with a dashing smile.
He led them inside and offered them refreshments before they left for their ride. A servant brought in citron pressé that was heavily laced with ice.
“I had thought that you might like to see some fine Roman ruins that are nearby,” proposed Georges-Henri. “It is not possible to reach them by carriage, so by horseback is the only way.”
“I would love to see them,” exclaimed Marina. “Papa and I used to visit the Isle of Wight before Mama died just to see the Roman villa at Brading. It has a very fine mosaic floor.”
“Then, I hope you will not be disappointed with this one,” replied Georges-Henri. “I believe there is just the one mosaic, although I do know that excavations are still taking place.”
A liveried servant came in and announced something in French that Marina just about caught the gist of.
“The horses are ready, so shall we leave?” suggested Georges-Henri.
The stables were far larger than Marina had expected. As soon as they emerged into the courtyard, grooms began to run hither and thither, carrying saddles and bridles. Within moments three horses were led out.
Georges-Henri and Sir Peter took the two larger beasts, while Marina was helped onto a bay mare.
“You will like Flora,” remarked Georges-Henri, “she may be small, but she is as fast as the wind.”
Marina immediately took a liking to the animal and stroked her silky mane.
“You and I will become friends today,” she murmured, as Flora whinnied and snorted, eager to stretch her legs.
In contrast Sir Peter’s mount was pawing at the ground and looked thoroughly bad-tempered.
“Oh, do not mind Nero,” said Georges-Henri, laughing. “He is not as terrible as he appears. He just likes to make a fuss around new people so that they know who is the boss!”
Very soon, the three of them were cantering along a dusty track towards a valley. Marina thought the scenery breathtaking and was glad that she could see it all on horseback. She felt it was the only way to be close to nature.
They rode for quite some distance and Marina was glad that one of the grooms had given her a wide-brimmed hat to wear. Sir Peter and Georges-Henri persisted in riding on ahead, but Flora kept apace without seeming to exert herself too much.
Marina so enjoyed the sensation of once more being on horseback – the wind whipping round her face and hair, the rush of excitement as the animal picked up speed and the familiar smell of leather.
At last, they reached the summit of a hill and Georges- Henri pulled his horse to a halt.
“Regardez!” he proclaimed. “The finest view in the South-West of France.”
It was indeed a breathtaking vista that was laid out in front of them. It made Marina forget all her woes and even the fact that she was supposed to be in mourning.
Sir Peter moved Nero closer to her.
“It is as wonderful as anything that the English countryside has to offer, is it not?” he said in a low voice full of emotion.
“I would not be a true Englishwoman if I agreed with that statement,” chided Marina, playfully, “but it is truly beautiful nevertheless.”
Their eyes met for a long moment until Marina averted her gaze as it made her tremble inside to continue to look at him.
‘What is this I am feeling?’ she asked herself, as she urged Flora into action.
Both Sir Peter and Georges-Henri had already spurred their mounts on down the side of the hill and towards a clearing below.
As she came to the bottom of the slope, she could see some ruins ahead of her. Sir Peter and Georges-Henri had already dismounted and were walking towards them.
“Come, Marina. you must look over here,” Sir Peter encouraged her.
Marina brought Flora to a halt and dismounted. She let the mare nibble at a bush while she tethered her.
Walking over to where Sir Peter was standing, Marina could clearly see the outline of what must have once been a very fine Roman villa. There were bricks and channels laid into the dusty earth and all around her lay fragments of broken pottery.
“It looks as if someone has been here and taken things away,” Marina commented.
“I am afraid that word soon gets out when someone discovers anything of any value,” replied Georges-Henri. “Some gold jewellery was found here not so long ago hidden in a pot. Hence why you see so much broken pottery.”
“You mean that people have vandalised this site? That is terrible.”
“There are greedy people everywhere – yes, even in this civilised part of the world,” observed Georges-Henri with a sad expression.
“Marina. Over here,” shouted Sir Peter, bending over a trench.
Marina hurried over and saw that part of a mosaic floor was visible beneath the dust.
“Why, it is beautiful. The colours are still so bright,”
she gasped, leaning forwards to afford herself a better view.
Sir Peter wandered away to view the remainder of the ruins, while Marina stood entranced by the mosaic in front of her. It held her spellbound.
She thought of all the ancient Roman feet that must have stood on that very floor and wondered what they must have been like.
“All those lives that we shall never know about,” she said out loud.
Looking up, she caught sight of a trench that was still being dug at the edge of the site.
‘I wonder what they have found there?’ she said to herself.
Meanwhile, Sir Peter and Georges-Henri seemed in deep conversation over a fragment of pottery that Sir Peter held in his hand.
‘I don’t suppose that they will mind if I wander off,’
she thought, moving away from the centre of the villa.
The trench was surrounded by a few lashed-together planks of wood. Marina peered down into it and could not see very much at all.
‘Perhaps I should move over to the other side,’ she mused, picking up her skirts. Even though they were ankle- length, they had become quite dusty.
She tried her best to brush the dust off, but in doing so, she only succeeded in knocking down one of the planks of wood that served as a makeshift barrier.
‘Oh, dear,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘Never mind, I can get a bit closer now and see what is down there.’
But as she stepped around the hole, her foot turned over on a rough clod of earth and she stumbled. In order to save herself from falling, Marina put her hand out and grasped part of the barrier.
To her dismay, the wooden plank snapped as she grabbed it and she went plummeting down into the trench!
She hit the bottom with a sickening thud with one leg bent underneath her.
“Oh, I am hurt!” she cried, feeling that something was very wrong indeed with her ankle.
She looked up at the mouth of the trench, but found that it was deeper than she had at first thought. She could not pull herself out and pain seared through her like a hot knife.
“Help! Help!” she screamed, tears beginning to course down her face.
But her voice sounded feeble and distant. The heavy sides of the trench seemed to deaden the sound.
Overhead, she could see tufts of grass around the mouth of
the trench and the clouds scudding across the sky.
‘Surely they will soon realise that I am not to be seen and will come looking for me,’ she thought attempting to call for help again.
At last the worried face of Sir Peter appeared at the top of the trench.
“She’s here! Georges-Henri – quick!”
In a flash, Georges-Henri was also peering down to where Marina lay.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
“It’s my ankle,” sobbed Marina, terrified and suddenly she felt thirsty. “I fell upon it and now I cannot move.”
“Are you able to reach up to us?”
“No, the trench is too deep and I am wedged down it.” Georges-Henri turned to Sir Peter with a serious expression on his face.
“I do not have any rope with me or anything else that we can pull her out with. I must go for help. Will you stay here with her?”
“Of course! Marina, dearest, did you hear that? Georges-Henri is going for help.”
‘He called me dearest,’ thought Marina, as she tried to raise herself up a little higher.
“Marina? Did you hear me?” came Sir Peter’s worried voice once more.
“Yes, I did. Peter, I am terribly thirsty, do you have some water?”
The dust and the dirt caught in Marina’s throat even as she spoke and made her cough.
“Marina! Are you all right?”
“Yes, but please, some water.”
Sir Peter’s head disappeared from the mouth of the trench as he rushed over to his horse.
‘Thank Heavens I brought some water with us,’ he said to himself, as he unhooked the leather bottle from Nero’s saddle.
Running back to the trench, Sir Peter gently threw the bottle down to Marina.
“Thank you. Oh, thank you!” she cried, pulling out the stopper and taking a long drink.
The water tasted strange, but she did not care. She was so thirsty.
“Georges-Henri will not be long” shouted Sir Peter down into the trench.
Marina held the water bottle close and hoped that he was right. She was not feeling at all well and her ankle hurt her terribly.
“Are you all right?” asked Sir Peter, for the thousandth time in ten minutes.
“As well as I can be, given that I believe my ankle may be broken.”
“Do not worry – help will arrive soon.”
But an hour later, there was still no sign of Georges- Henri or a rescue party.
“What on earth is keeping the man!” sighed Sir Peter, as he tried his best to keep Marina cheerful. He realised that she had been crying and it tore him in two.
“Dearest, they won’t be much longer, I promise,” he shouted to a very quiet Marina. She had gradually become more and more silent as the moments wore on.
“What time does it get dark?” came her quavering voice after a long period.
“Oh, not for ages,” he lied, eyeing the sun that was fast disappearing on the horizon, whilst at the same time, secretly praying that the rescue party was nearby.
At long last, Sir Peter caught sight of a group of people on horseback approaching.
“They’re here. Darling, they’re here!” he cried. “Thank Heaven,” sighed Marina’s thin tired voice.
Sir Peter ran over to Georges-Henri’s horse as he dismounted in a hurry.
“You have been so long.”
“I am sorry but we were trying to find the doctor, but he is not around. I have left word at the house that he is urgently needed.”
“Do you have ropes and pulleys?”
“My men have brought all that is required, so do not fear,” he assured him, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I realise how much Miss Fullerton means to you.”
“I believe I have only just discovered that myself,” he answered thoughtfully.
“Ah, you see, we French – we see these things much more readily,” added Georges-Henri with a wry smile.
Within moments Georges-Henri’s men had rigged up a pulley with ropes, using the planks around the hole as a frame.
“Not long now, Marina,” soothed Sir Peter.
The men let down a rope attached to a leather harness and Georges-Henri told Marina to wrap it around her waist.
“Now, be brave,” he called, “you may find it hurts when we pull you up.”
Marina winced in pain as the men heaved on the rope and the harness began to raise her up. The hole was not very wide and she had become stiff from being down it for so long.
With a huge effort, Marina emerged from the trench – filthy, tear-stained and in obvious pain.
Sir Peter did not wait for the men to help her from the harness.
He rushed forward and took her in his arms, kissing her hair and calling her ‘dearest’ and ‘darling’ many times over.
“You are safe,” he cried, holding her gently. “I promise I will never let you out of my sight again!”
Marina looked up into his anxious face and saw in his eyes the look that told her how much he loved her.
Discreetly, Georges-Henri told his men to leave them be for a while, realising that this was a very private moment. “Darling Marina, I have only just realised how much I love you. I believe I have loved you since that first day we met at Albert’s house, but I thought that you would never consider me. And then when you wrote to me from Paris, hope sprang anew in my heart.”
“I have been a perfect fool,” answered Marina, laying her head on his shoulder. “For all the time I could not see what was in front of my eyes. I, too, am guilty of not realising what you have come to mean to me. I love you, Peter. I love you so very much!”
“Then, can I hope that you might consent to being my wife?” he asked breathlessly. His hand caressed her cheek and wiped away the tears that had once more begun to fall.
Marina’s heart felt as if it would burst with happiness. She could scarcely believe what he was saying to her.
But she knew inside that it was right.
“I will,” she answered, after a pause. “I could not think of anything in the world that would make me happier.”
“Marina. Darling.”
With that, he kissed her full on the lips – a kiss of love that would last forever.
A round of applause broke out over the site. Marina and Sir Peter looked up in astonishment to see that Georges- Henri and his men were all standing round with broad grins on their faces.
“I can see that out of this mishap has come much happiness,” he said, looking almost as happy as Sir Peter. “But come, we should be getting back to the house. It will be dark very soon and there are wolves in these hills.”
Marina let out a gasp and clung even more tightly onto Sir Peter.
“You did not tell me about the wolves!”
“No, my darling, because I did not wish to frighten you. But fear not, you are safe now. Georges-Henri’s men are armed and will bring you back safely.”
Marina was gently lifted onto the back of a sturdy- looking black horse and Sir Peter mounted behind her.
“I will never leave you again,” he promised as he took the reins.
*
It was dark by the time the party arrived back amidst much commotion to Georges-Henri’s house.
Marina was helped down from the exhausted horse and Sir Peter carried her inside.
There, to her immense surprise, were Monsieur and Madame Solange along with Monique and Ellen.
“Marina,” they cried, getting up from their chairs as she was carried in.
“You. Here!” she answered and immediately began to cry with relief.
The doctor arrived not long afterwards and hurried to Marina’s side. Ellen fussed around as ever, but was forced to move aside while he examined Marina.
“She has broken her ankle,” he announced and proceeded to bandage it tightly.
“You must rest for a month, and no more horse riding,”
he prescribed.
As he left, Monique came over to where she lay
on the sofa and handed her a folded paper.
“What is this?”
“Oh, I am sorry that we opened it in error,” explained Monique, “it is from your Papa. It came to the house this afternoon.”
With shaking hands, Marina pulled it open and quickly read it.
“Can you ever forgive me?” it read, “I have been a fool, please return to London where you will be warmly welcomed. Fondest love. Papa.”
“Oh. I cannot believe it! I am so very happy,”
exclaimed Marina.
“I thought you would be glad to hear that your Papa has had a change of heart,” said Monique kissing her friend on the cheek. “And you will be pleased to hear that Papa has sent Simon back to Paris. He has outraged the family once too often.”
“What does the telegram say?” asked Sir Peter moving forwards protectively.
“It is Papa, he has asked me to come home,” she answered, not telling him that Simon Solange had been sent packing.
“And will you?”
“Of course – after we are married.”
“Then it is he who is in for a surprise!” declared Sir Peter, before breaking into a peal of laughter.
“Darling, I am so happy for you,” said Monique. “You are to be married to Sir Peter?”
“Yes, it’s true,” sighed Marina, feeling so full of love and joy that she felt as if she must be in Heaven itself.
“And when will this be?”
Marina looked over at Sir Peter and he added, “As soon as Marina would like.”
“Here, in Biarritz?” exclaimed Monique excitedly. “If that is what Marina wants.”
Monsieur and Madame Solange sprang up from their seats and bent to kiss and congratulate Marina.
A noise like a shot from a gun suddenly startled everyone in the room. Marina looked up to see Georges- Henri pouring champagne into glasses.
“A toast!” he called. “To the happy couple.”
“Bonne chance,” chorused everyone in the room.
As the champagne flowed and everyone in the room laughed merrily, Sir Peter knelt down by Marina’s side and gently took her hand.
“Darling, I could not be happier than I am at this moment,” he said, looking at her with eyes full of love.
“I cannot believe this is happening,” she answered, softly, “but to have found you, after so much heartbreak, surely the Gods are smiling down on us.”
Seeking Love Page 14