As they saw no ships on the voyage towards Grenada it took them less time than they had taken when they had left it for St. Martin.
The afternoon before they reached the island Henri came to the cabin after the siesta to help Grania wash the rinse out of her hair.
She had to apply it again every time it was washed, but this time it had to be washed out thoroughly so that when she landed on Grenada she looked English.
She dried her hair in the sunshine and when it was dry she left it hanging over her shoulders.
The Comte had been busy on deck steering the ship, and when he came into the cabin as the sun was sinking he saw Grania standing by a port-hole and for a moment stood still looking at her.
Then he smiled and said:
“I see I have an English visitor! I am delighted to meet you, Mrs. Vence!”
Grania laughed and ran towards him.
“That is perfect!” she said. “Now you speak English far better than I speak French.”
“That would be impossible,” the Comte replied, “but I am glad your lessons are having an effect.”
“You speak just like an Englishman,” she said, “but I feel that you look almost too smart to be one.”
“You flatter me,” the Comte answered. “But, darling, whatever you may look like remember you are my wife, my very fascinating, alluring French wife.”
He kissed her. Then he drew up her hair across her face and kissed her through it.
“You are my golden girl again,” he said. “I am not certain how I like you best, dark and mysterious like the dusk, or shining and golden as a spring morning.”
The Comte had planned that they should draw near Grenada well after sunrise—not too early in case Abe did not have time to change the flag. But they were slowed down by lack of wind, and when they finally arrived within sight of the island it was about eleven o’clock.
Grania was on the poop-deck beside the Comte and they were both waiting for the signal from the look-out on the mast.
He held a telescope to his eye and nobody on deck spoke until finally they heard him cry:
“A white flag! I can see it quite clearly!”
The Comte swung the wheel over, the sails filled with the breeze and they shot ahead.
It was quite a feat to enter the bay of Secret Harbour, but the Comte managed it brilliantly and Grania felt a little tug at her heart when she saw the jetty, the pine trees and the brilliant bushes of bougainvillaea that she had known ever since a child.
They let down the anchor, the gang-plank joined the deck to the jetty and the Comte helped Grania onto it.
They had arranged to go ahead while the others stayed on the ship ready to move away quickly if it was necessary.
“If Papa is here I want him to meet everybody,” Grania said.
“We will have to see what your father thinks of me first,” the Comte replied. “He may disapprove violently of your marrying a Frenchman.”
“No one could disapprove of you,” Grania answered, and the Comte laughed and kissed the tip of her nose.
Now he was carrying over his arm Patrick O’Kerry’s uniform coat, and the papers he had taken from him before he was buried at sea were in the pocket.
“Papa will want to keep them,” Grania said, “and one day when the war is over, if she is still alive, I am sure his mother would wish to have them.”
“That is what I thought,” the Comte answered.
“How can you be so kind?” Grania asked. “I cannot believe that any other man would think of such things in the middle of a war.”
“A war which I pray will not concern us in the future,” the Comte said beneath his breath.
Because she was so closely attuned to him Grania was aware that he was in fact apprehensive as to what sort of reception he would receive from his father-in-law.
But she was confident that, unless Roderick Maigrin was with her father, he would be glad that she had found somebody to love and who loved her.
If her father was not at Secret Harbour she was wondering how she could manage to send for him so that he came alone.
It was not possible to predict exactly what would happen when they arrived, but what was important was that she should see Abe and find out what the position was.
They walked through the pine trees and she glanced at the Comte before they left their shelter for the garden.
She knew he was looking serious but, she thought, exceedingly handsome.
Because it was so hot he was wearing only a thin linen shirt, but his cravat was tied in an intricate fashion which always fascinated her, and his white cotton breeches were the same as the crew wore, only better fitting.
“He is so smart,” Grania thought to herself, “but at the same time so masculine.”
She blushed at her own thoughts.
They walked through the overgrown flower-beds which had been her mother’s pride.
Then, just as they reached the centre of the garden and the house lay straight ahead of them, a man appeared on the verandah.
One glance at him and Grania felt her heart stand still, for he was wearing British, uniform, and was, she saw, a Colonel.
Both she and the Comte stopped and neither of them moved as the Colonel came down the steps and walked towards them.
Then behind him Grania saw Abe and knew by the expression of consternation on his face that the English Officer’s visit was unexpected.
The Colonel came forward. Then as he reached them he held out his hand to Grania and smiled.
“I think you must be Lady Grania O’Kerry,” he said. “May I introduce myself? I am Lieutenant-Colonel Campbell and I have just arrived from Barbados with a transport of troops.”
For a moment Grania thought it was impossible to speak.
Then she said in a voice that did not sound like her own:
“How do you do, Colonel? I am sure you were very welcome at St. George’s.”
“We were,” the Colonel replied, “and I think we can soon get the trouble here cleared up.”
He glanced at the Comte and Grania knew he was waiting to be introduced.
Then as she wondered frantically what she should say she saw the Colonel’s eyes resting on the naval officer’s coat that the Comte carried on his arm.
Almost like a message from Heaven Grania knew what she could do.
“May I, Colonel, introduce my cousin, who is also my husband? Commander Patrick O’Kerry!”
The Comte and the Colonel shook hands and the Colonel said:
“I am delighted to meet you, Commander. Strangely enough the Governor was speaking about you today and wondering how he could get in touch with you.”
“What about?” the Comte asked.
He sounded, Grania thought, completely composed while her heart was beating frantically.
The Colonel turned again to her.
“I am afraid, Lady Grania,” he said quietly, “I am the bearer of bad news.”
“Bad news?” Grania repeated almost beneath her breath.
“I am here to inform you that your father, the Earl of Kilkerry, was killed by the revolutionaries.”
Grania drew in her breath and put out her hand towards the Comte.
He took it in his and she felt as if the clasp of his fingers gave her strength.
“What ... happened?”
“Ten days ago the slaves on Mr. Roderick Maigrin’s plantation were determined to join the other rebels,” the Colonel replied. “However, he became aware of it and tried to prevent them from leaving.”
Grania was sure that he had killed them as he had killed the others, but she did not say anything and the Colonel went on:
“However they disarmed him and shot your father, who died instantly. But they tortured Mr. Maigrin before they finally murdered him.”
Grania did not speak. She could only feel relief that her father had died without suffering.
Then the Comte spoke.
“You will understand, Colonel, that thi
s has been a great shock for my wife? May I suggest that we go into the house so that she can sit down.”
“Yes, of course,” the Colonel agreed.
The Comte’s arm went round Grania and as they walked across the garden and up the stairs she realised that he was limping most convincingly.
She wondered vaguely why he was doing so.
When they were seated in her mother’s Drawing Room and Abe without being told had brought them rum punches the Colonel said:
“I suppose, Commander, you are anxious to get back to sea?”
“I am afraid that will be impossible for some time,” the Comte replied. “As you are doubtless aware, I was on H.M.S. Heroic which was sunk, and I, with a number of other men, was wounded.”
“I noticed you limped,” the Colonel said, “but apart from your wound as your circumstances have now changed, I am hoping we can perhaps persuade you to stay here.”
The Comte looked surprised and the Colonel explained:
“As I think you must be aware, you are now the Earl of Kilkerry, and the reason that the bodies of the murdered gentlemen were discovered was that the Governor was anxious that the plantations should be put back into order and the slaves set to work.”
Grania raised her head to say:
“I think ... perhaps now we have ... very few slaves ... left.”
“I expect that is true, as it is on most of the plantations where many of the slaves have run away to join the rebels, and the rest are hiding. But we shall soon take Belvedere, and once Fedon is in our hands the rebellion will be over.”
“So the slaves will go back to work and will be anxious to do so,” the Comte remarked.
“Exactly!” the Colonel agreed. “And that is why, My Lord, I would like you to stay here and run the estate for your wife. It is important to the island, and perhaps until we can find somebody to take over Mr. Maigrin’s plantation you might have time to keep an eye on his land as well as your own.”
There was a moment’s pause while Grania knew the Comte was thinking. Then he said:
“I will certainly do the best I can for you, and I am certain I can see that our own slaves are content and forget any rebellious feelings they may have had.”
The Colonel smiled.
“That is exactly what I want to hear, My Lord, and I am sure the Governor will be delighted by your attitude.”
He paused before he added:
“By the way, Lady Grania, I know you will be sorry to hear that the old Governor, who you knew well, was killed by the rebels, and the present Governor is new to the Island. He will I know be happy to make your acquaintance later. I need not add that at the moment he is far too busy for any social engagements.”
“Yes, of course,” Grania said. “We will be busy too. I am afraid my father has rather neglected the plantation in the last two or three years and there is a great deal to be done.”
“I am quite sure your husband will manage admirably.”
The Colonel finished his rum punch and rose to his feet.
“Now, if you will forgive me,” he said, “I must be on my way. I have to get back to St. George’s. The Governor asked me as I was clearing up certain difficulties in St. David’s to call here on my way home, and I was exceedingly fortunate to find you.”
“We shall hope to see you again,” Grania said holding out her hand.
“I shall hope so too,” the Colonel replied. “But as soon as our plans are clarified we will go into action!” He shook hands with the Comte saying:
“Goodbye, My Lord. The very best of luck! I am delighted, may I say, that you are here. You may not know there were very few survivors from H.M.S. Heroic.” The Comte saw the Colonel to the door where his horse was waiting and a dozen or so troops were mounted.
He watched them ride away, then went back to the Drawing-Room.
As he came through the door Grania ran towards him, to fling her arms round him.
“Darling, you were wonderful!” she said. “He had not the least suspicion that you were not who you said you were.”
“Who you said I was,” the Comte corrected, “and I thought it was very quick and clever of you.”
He drew her to the sofa and sat down beside her holding her hand in his.
She looked up at him enquiringly and he said very quietly:
“This is a decision which you and only you can make. Are we to stay or are we to leave?”
Grania did not pause before she asked:
“Would you be willing to stay here and run the plantation as the Colonel suggested?”
“Why not? It belongs to you, I am quite certain it will be hard work, but with the experience I have we could make it pay.”
He did not wait for Grania to say anything, but went on:
“If we are here we can also find work for all our friends, and your job, my darling, will be to make them proficient not on a plantation, but in the English language.”
He smiled as he went on:
“After all, they are all intelligent Frenchmen, and it should not be hard for Leo eventually to find plenty of work in St. George’s and if we are clever Andre and Jacques can take over Roderick Maigrin’s plantation.” Grania gave a little cry.
“That would be wonderful, and in a way poetic justice after that man was so horrible and such a bad influence on Papa.”
“If I could risk being a pirate I can certainly risk being an English Planter,” the Comte said. “It is entirely up to you. But if, my lovely one, you would rather go back to St. Martin, I will agree.”
Grania smiled.
“To sell your precious treasures?” she asked. “Of course not! We must stay here, and because you are so brilliant I am quite certain we shall never be found out. Besides, there is no O’Kerry to accuse you of usurping his title.”
The Comte bent forward and kissed her.
“Then it shall be as you wish,” he said, “and you can choose, my darling, in the future as to whether you are a Countess or a Comtesse and match the colour of your hair to your choice!”
Grania laughed. Then she called Abe.
“Listen Abe,” she said. “You and only you will know that the gentleman here is really a Frenchman. I expect you heard what the Colonel said.”
“I listen Lady,” Abe replied. “Very good news! We be rich. Everyone happy!”
“Of course we will be,” Grania said.
“One bit bad news, Lady.”
“What is that?” Grania asked.
“New Governor take Momma Mabel. Give big money. Her gone St. George’s!”
Grania laughed.
“That means there will be no embarrassment in asking Henri to take over the kitchen.”
Her voice rose excitedly as she said:
“Go quickly to the ship, Abe, and ask Henri to come and prepare luncheon. Tell everybody else to come here too, and ‘His Lordship’ will tell them what has been decided.”
She laughed again as she gave the Comte his new title. Then as Abe without saying anything ran from the Drawing-Room and down the steps of the verandah and across the garden the Comte put out his arms and drew her close to him.
“I suppose you know what you are taking on,” he said. “You are going to have to work very hard, my darling, and so shall I.”
“But it will be exciting to work together,” Grania said, “and I have thought of a new name for you—an English name.”
The Comte raised his eye-brows as she said:
“I shall call you ‘Beau’ on English soil, and ‘Beaufort’ on French. After all, Beau can be applied to Englishmen like Beau Nash, and who could look the part better?”
“As long as that is how I appear to you, then I am satisfied.”
He drew her closer still as he added very quietly: “How can we be so lucky or so blessed to find a place where we can work, and I can make love to you until we can go home?”
“Suppose when the time comes I want to stay here?” Grania asked.
He looked at her t
o see if she was serious, then realised she was teasing.
His lips were very close to hers as he said:
“Let me make it quite clear once and for all that where I go you will go. You belong to me! You are mine, and not all the nations in the world could divide us or prevent us from being together.”
“Oh, darling, that is what I want you to say!” Grania sighed. “And you know I love you.”
“I will make you sure of it every day, every hour that we are together,” the Comte said.
He pulled her almost roughly closer to him.
Then he was kissing her and she knew that once again he was roving his supremacy and domination over her.
It made her adore him because he was so much a man, but at the same time so sensitive and understanding to her feelings.
She knew that with him she would always feel safe and protected. It would not matter where they were, on what island or what part of the world.
His arms were a secret harbour which kept her safe, a harbour that was made of love.
Then as the Comte’s kisses grew more demanding she turned her face up to his to say, and her voice trembled: “Darling, the others will come in a minute. Please do not excite me until ... tonight.”
She saw the fire in the Comte’s eyes but he was smiling. “Tonight?” he enquired. “Why should we wait until tonight? After luncheon there will be a siesta and I intend to tell you, my wonderful, brave, courageous little wife, how I fell in love with a picture, but fate brought me the reality and she is the most exciting thing I have ever known.”
Then he was kissing her again, kissing her until they heard the sound of voices coming from the garden.
It was the sound of men talking excitedly in a language which was not their own.
But to Grania and the Comte there was only one language they both understood and which was the same wherever they might be—the language of love.
The sunblinds were down and the room which smelt of jasmine, was very dim. On the lace-edged pillows two heads were very close together.
“Je t’adore, ma petite,” the Comte said hoarsely.
“I love you ... I love you, darling.”
“Tell me again, I want to be sure.”
“I adore ... you.”
“As I adore and worship you, but I also want to excite you.”
Secret Harbor Page 13