Sea of Lost Love

by Santa Montefiore

  “Archie, darling, perhaps you could make an announcement,” Julia proposed, suddenly looking rather weary.

  Archie cleared his throat. “Attention everyone!” he exclaimed, puffing out his chest importantly. No one seemed to notice.

  “Speak up, boy, we can’t hear you!” shouted Elizabeth, bashing her stick repeatedly on the wooden floor until the china began to wobble in the glass cabinet against the wall. At once everyone stopped talking and turned to Archie.

  “Julia would like everyone to proceed to the tent now.” He sounded rather sheepish. By contrast, Monty’s voice was firm and commanding.

  “Before we all disperse into the tent, I’d like to wish my brother most happy returns of the day. This is, after all, a very special birthday. It gives me great pleasure to be among my family, and I know it gives Archie a great deal of pleasure, too. Blood is thicker than water, and there is nothing like the sharing of blood to unite us all in an unbreakable bond. Archie, my dear brother and friend, father, husband, and son, we wish you a very happy birthday and many more in the years to come, and whatever the future brings, know that I, your brother, have always admired you.” Julia’s face softened at Monty’s kind words, and Archie lowered his eyes with embarrassment. He didn’t feel at all worthy of Monty’s admiration.

  While everyone clapped Elizabeth managed to bring the conversation once more around to her. “I think this will be my last, Humphrey. Next year, they’ll have double the reason to celebrate.”

  “Hello, Grandma,” Celestria exclaimed, taking her elbow so that she walked into the tent between her granddaughter and Humphrey. Before she could reply, her cousin, whose rheumy eyes had lit up at the sight of young flesh, broke in, his reedy voice a few notes higher with excitement.

  “Ah, the most charming and radiant Celestria. I thought I sensed the room exude a light more heavenly than earthly. You look more glorious than ever.” He dropped his eyes to her chest, where they delved a moment into her cleavage.

  “Are you admiring my diamonds, Humphrey?” Celestria teased. He withdrew his gaze with difficulty.

  “They are exquisite, but you shine far brighter than they do.”

  “Don’t listen to the old bore!” Elizabeth interrupted. “If he was fifty years younger, I’d be concerned.”

  “I’m struck in the heart, Cousin. How cruel you are!”

  “Celestria, that dress is almost indecent!” she stated. “In my day only tarts wore dresses that revealed so much. A dress like that will only get you into trouble.”

  “But I love trouble, Grandma!”

  “With a man of experience, my dear, trouble can be a great deal of fun.” Humphrey had begun to perspire.

  “A dress like that sends out the wrong messages,” her grandmother continued. “You’re a Montague, and you should behave with more discretion. Look at your cousins. Now, those dresses are most suitable. I brought Penelope up with a strong sense of morality, which I am glad to see she has passed on to her daughters. I brought your father up in the same way. The only trouble with your father is your mother. Americans have no sense of decorum.”

  Celestria laughed as Humphrey winked at her over Elizabeth’s heavily coiffed gray head. “I love Americans,” he said. “And your mother is splendid. In fact, I’m going to reserve a dance with her right away before she gets booked up. I’d like one with you, too, Celestria. Will you promise to make an ugly old man happy?”

  “Of course,” she lied with an easy smile. The thought of being pressed up against that swollen belly, already steaming with sweat, made her blood curdle.

  Humphrey disappeared into the tent to find Pamela, a futile expedition, for Celestria knew her mother would decline his offer before he had even finished his sentence. Pamela hadn’t the patience for men like Humphrey; after all, she was a white tiger, and white tigers were very disparaging of warthogs.

  “Let’s get you to a chair, Grandma,” Celestria said, eager to deposit her charge quickly so that she could mingle among the guests, who were now arriving in droves.

  “Get me an ashtray. I’d like a cigarette.” She sat down stiffly, leaning her stick against the table, and scratched about in her bag for a cigarette. Elizabeth always smoked through an ivory cigarette holder her father had brought her from India for her twenty-first birthday. While Celestria went to find an ashtray, a waiter struck a match and lit it for her, placing a bubbling champagne flute on the table in front of her.

  As Celestria made to return to the table her eyes caught sight of a most attractive man. She remained frozen to the carpet for a moment, careful not to let her jaw drop like Melissa’s had a tendency to do. He didn’t see her. He was too busy talking to Dan Wilmotte, whose debonair looks now faded by comparison. They were both laughing, throwing their heads back in the insouciant manner of men who have no cares. There was something about the squareness of his jawline that she found very attractive. His lips were twisted into a lopsided grin, his nose was irregular, and his dark brown hair, rather long and flopping over his forehead, suggested a delicious arrogance. His charisma reached her from the other end of the room like a lighthouse signal to a ship, indicating land yet warning of danger. She was immediately transfixed by it, promising as it did a whole heap of trouble. A warm feeling of excitement curled up her spine like a hot snake.

  “Celestria!” She turned to see her furious grandmother, now accompanied by a couple of elderly men, holding out her dropping cigarette with indignation. “My granddaughter is unbearably dizzy,” she said, her lips pursed. Celestria held the glass dish beneath the older woman’s cigarette so she could flick ash into it, then placed it on the table. By the slack-jawed appreciation of the two elderly men, she could tell they weren’t at all bothered by a little dizziness. Much to their disappointment, she didn’t wait to be introduced, but turned on her heel in search of the handsome stranger.

  She might have guessed that he would find her. They all did, one way or another.

  “Celestria!” Dan exclaimed, embracing her like an old friend. Had Celestria not set eyes on his handsome companion, she would have welcomed his eagerness. However, she patted his shoulder as he kissed her cheek, not wanting to humiliate him. “Let me introduce you to Rafferty,” he said. Rafferty took her hand and raised it to his lips, not withdrawing his eyes even for a moment. Celestria was enchanted.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rafferty,” she replied, looking up at him from under her lashes in a manner that was most certain to ensnare him and exaggerating the slight twang in her accent.

  “You’re American,” he said in surprise, releasing her hand.

  “Mama’s American; I’m English.” She relished the exoticism of her two cultures.

  “I’m Irish, from Cork. It’s my first visit to Cornwall.”

  “He’s staying with us,” said Dan, beaming with pleasure.

  “Dan, darling, will you get me a glass of champagne?” Celestria suggested, touching his arm with a gloved hand. Dan responded with zeal, turning on his polished black shoes and weaving his way through the crowd to the table Julia had set up as a bar.

  Rafferty grinned at the transparency of her ploy. Celestria was too shameless to blush. “Do you live here?” he asked. “Stunning place.”

  “It’s the family home. We all descend on Uncle Archie for most of August. The rest of the year I live in London, in Belgravia. I imagine you’ve been to London?”

  He laughed incredulously. “You must think me very parochial!”

  “Are you? One can’t always tell.”

  “I’m at Oxford studying law. I spend a great deal of time in London.”

  “Staying with the Wilmottes?”

  “They’re old family friends.”

  His eyes strayed a moment and lingered lazily on her breasts. “You’re very beautiful,” he murmured, suddenly serious. She noticed his eyes were an unusual shade of green, like lichen.

  “Thank you, Rafferty.”

  “I suppose you get told that all the time.�
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  “A girl never tires of compliments.”

  “You don’t blush, which suggests you’ve received far too many.”

  “Would you like me to blush?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because then I’d feel in with a chance.”

  She laughed, uncertain whether or not he was teasing. He gazed at her steadily. She held her ground and gazed right back, trying to ascertain what lurked behind the lichen while that hot snake curled up her spine again. Then Dan returned with a glass of champagne and the moment was lost.

  She hoped she’d be placed next to Rafferty at dinner. They continued to talk, the three of them, light and frivolous chat on top of a hidden undercurrent of desire that ran between Rafferty and Celestria. His eyes lingered on hers longer than was normal, and once or twice his fingers touched the skin on her forearm, causing her belly to turn over with excitement. She remembered the delicious sensation of Aidan Cooney’s fingers, and her belly tumbled again, all on its own.

  Father Dalgliesh watched her from the other side of the tent. Surrounded by elderly ladies who were delighted to have the opportunity to talk to the handsome new priest, he was unable to restrain his eyes from drifting over the heads of the guests to where Celestria was speaking to two young men. Her beauty was breathtaking. The voices around him blended into a distant buzz, like a swarm of mosquitoes, as he reassured himself that his attraction to her was only human, a temptation sent by God to test him, thus rendering his resistance all the more commendable. I am a priest, he told himself. But I am also a man. The devil may tempt me, but I will not yield. “I told my grandson that it was no good going to Mass once in a while, one has to fulfill one’s Sunday obligation. It cleanses the soul. I just don’t understand the young of today.”

  “Indeed,” Father Dalgliesh replied vaguely. The others were quick to agree, competing with one another to add their own stories. But Father Dalgliesh did nothing to untangle them. His mind was elsewhere, and the seed in his heart had begun to grow.

  Suddenly the tent was struck by a violent gust of wind. The sides flapped, straining the cords that tied them down, and a sound like falling pebbles rattled on the roof. All eyes turned upward as the downpour threatened to break through the canvas and drench them all. Julia dragged furiously on her cigarette, masking her nervousness behind a wide and carefree smile. Pamela was clearly relishing the drama, holding forth in the center of a group of admirers, pulling her mink stole tighter around her shoulders to keep warm. “I hope the tent doesn’t slip down the garden into the sea,” Celestria said.

  “If it continues, we shan’t be able to drive home,” said Dan happily. “We’ll all have to stay the night.”

  “Oh, what fun!” Celestria exclaimed, longing for the party to continue into the following morning.

  “Let’s drink to the storm, then,” Rafferty suggested. “That it continues all night with thunder and lightning, too. It’ll be like the Blitz all over again.” Not that any of them had much memory of the war. He fixed her with those moss-green eyes, and the corners of his mouth twisted into a mischievous grin. She raised her glass.

  “To the storm,” she replied, smiling flirtatiously. “And to new friends. It’s always nice to meet new people.”

  Her eyes lifted and caught those of Father Dalgliesh, staring at her intently from behind his spectacles. She raised her glass at him and smiled. He flushed with embarrassment at having been caught watching her and raised his glass of lime cordial with an awkward nod. Quickly he turned back to his ladies, endeavoring to join together the fragmented pieces of conversation in order to respond convincingly.

  To Celestria’s irritation, Julia had seated her next to Dan, not Rafferty, but she forgave her because Dan had introduced her to the mysterious Irishman. On her other side sat Humphrey, now puce in the face with alcohol and excitement. Her heart sank. Judging by the breadth of his smile he was clearly triumphant with his placement.

  “Ah, Celestria,” he gushed, planting his hand on her bottom. “The lovely Celestria!” He wriggled his hand and let out a theatrical groan. “What do you do to me, you naughty girl.”

  She placed the object of his desire on the chair and covered her knees with a napkin. She was about to respond with rudeness when her attention was drawn to the next-door table, where Rafferty was sitting next to Melissa, trying to catch her eye. While Melissa radiated joy, Rafferty gave Celestria a look of desperation, to which she responded by raising her eyes to heaven. There was no doubt about it, Rafferty and she had an understanding and were united already by their unfortunate placements. It is clear that he would have preferred to sit next to me, she thought happily and threw him a coy smile. He grinned back, using only one side of his mouth. Her stomach flipped again. Oh, how delicious it was to be in love.

  5

  Father Dalgliesh was ill at ease with people. In front of his congregation he sparkled. He commandeered the nave, recited Latin as if it were his first language, and filled everyone with enthusiasm to go out more virtuous than they came in. That was why the bishop had appointed him to this parish and the two neighboring ones, despite his relative youth and inexperience. In his professional capacity he had charisma: he inspired people, stimulated them, poured oil on the rusty chinks in their faith. But when it came to everyday conversation, relating to the mundane toils of his congregants, he felt he was sitting behind a pane of glass, unable to reach them. This made him nervous. Yet he recognized the challenge before him, and, as he sat between Penelope Flint and a lively woman in her late sixties, he knew the only way to improve his social skills was to practice. He watched Celestria take her seat at a table on the other side of the tent and felt his heart deflate with disappointment. How he wished he were sitting next to her. Suddenly, he caught sight of his feet. His stomach lurched in horror as he noticed one red sock and one green. He quickly pushed them under the table, thus concealing them from Penelope’s incisive gaze. It was shameful to be so distracted as to forget to dress properly.

  “Your grandmother is right, Celestria. You’re asking for trouble in a dress like that. But, as you said yourself, you like trouble. You like it a lot, don’t you, my dear?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Humphrey. Really, the champagne has gone to your head,” she replied. She felt the old man’s hand squeezing her knee.

  “You don’t fool me,” he whispered.

  “Why would I want to fool you, Humphrey?”

  “Because you look like butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth. But you’ve been a naughty girl, haven’t you?”

  “Now you’re boring me,” she said wearily. His hand remained firmly on her knee.

  “I can smell naughtiness on a girl, you see. I have the smelling power of a dog. You like a little hanky-panky, don’t you? But then, it runs in the family. Your grandmother liked a little hanky-panky, too, when she was young. She wasn’t as beautiful as you, but she was sexy. I was her cousin, so no hanky-panky for me. But you, you…” She could feel his hot breath on her cheek. “You like the pleasures of the flesh, don’t you, Celestria? You’re a sensual woman, I can tell.” His hand wandered up her thigh. “You like the feel of a man’s hand on you, don’t you? You tease.”

  “Where are your manners, Humphrey? Have you forgotten yourself?” she asked in a loud voice. She noticed she had attracted the attention of a few other guests, among them her cousin David. “What will my grandmother say when I tell her you’ve had your hand on my thigh?” The hand was hastily removed and placed on the table.

  “Is everything all right, Celestria?” David asked from across the table. He was grinning, but she could tell from his eyes that he was genuinely concerned.

  “Only a little fun, right, my dear?” Humphrey chortled.

  “For you, perhaps,” Celestria replied sharply. Once again she caught Rafferty staring at her. She hoped he had seen the errant hand. It was always a good thing to stir a man’s sense of gallantry. There lurked in most men a l
ittle of the knight in shining armor. She pulled a despairing face. Once again she raised her eyes to heaven, then turned to talk to Dan, satisfied that as soon as the dinner was over, she would be in Rafferty’s arms, being swung around the dance floor.

  Celestria usually dreaded the speeches, preferring to talk to the men on either side of her. But that night she couldn’t have welcomed them more. While Dan was a delight, Humphrey certainly was not. Drunk and lecherous, his hand straying from the table to squeeze her thigh an inch or so higher at every venture, he was determined to take advantage of the rare opportunity of having her captive for the entire length of dinner. She knew if she told her grandmother she’d only blame the dress. She could hear her voice very clearly: “My dear, if you had worn something a little more discreet, Humphrey wouldn’t have been tempted.” As her uncle took the microphone, Humphrey’s hand crawled once again to her thigh. That was enough. She couldn’t tolerate it a second longer. While Archie tested the microphone by tapping it with his finger, she fled into the drawing room that led off the hall. She could feel Rafferty’s velvet eyes upon her and hoped he would follow.

  It was quiet in the drawing room, except for the rattling sound of rain behind the curtains. A few waiters bustled through with trays of coffee and china cups, muttering “Good evening, miss,” as they passed. She heaved as deep a breath as the corset of her dress allowed and wandered into the hall. It was clear that Rafferty wasn’t going to come. She was disappointed, but understood that his departure from the table would be considered disrespectful to her uncle, not to mention ungallant to the ladies on either side of him. One of whom was her cousin Melissa.

  Celestria folded her arms and stuck out her bottom lip, swinging her hips from side to side to see the skirt of her dress dance. “Psssst!” came from the landing above. Harry, Wilfrid, Sam, and little Bouncy crouched at the top of the stairs, peeping through the banisters.