by Lucy Gillen
‘I’m afraid it may be true, Diamond,’ Louise told her. ‘It looks very much like snow and the wind’s in the right direction; if it’s very bad we shall be stranded here if not actually confined to the house. The boats can’t make the crossing if it’s dangerous.’
‘Talking of boats arriving,’ Hector said, ‘has the press arrived in force? I thought I saw someone in a red coat .come off the boat with a man.’
Louise nodded. ‘It was the magazine people,’ she confirmed. ‘There’s a writer and a photographer. The girl is the photographer, she seems rather nice.’
At the mention of the girl Diamond’s fine eyebrows jiggled expressively in a suggestion that was unmistakable. ‘Cosy,’ she commented, and Louise bit her lip, remembering her own thoughts in that direction.
Before anyone could comment on the likely truth of the suggestion, there was a brief knock and the grey head of Hannah Grayston the housekeeper appeared round the door. ‘Miss Nostrum and Mr. Darrell are here, Miss Kincaid.’ She addressed herself to Louise, then withdrew immediately to allow the two visitors into the room.
Louise felt a sudden and inexplicable shyness as the two strangers came in, Jonathan Darrell ushering his companion politely in first. He looked rather stiffly formal in a well-cut grey suit with a collar and tie and not nearly as much at home as he had in the more casual wear he had arrived in.
The steady gaze of the brown eyes sought and settled on her and she sensed again, but briefly, the hint of uneasiness behind his air of self-confidence. ‘I hope we’re not intruding, Miss Kincaid?’ He made no hesitation before her name this time and she shook her head in hasty denial.
‘Of course not, please come in.’ She smiled at Esther Nostrum, neat and trim in a wool suit, and her mind flew, unbidden, again to Diamond’s cryptic comment earlier and her own suspicions.
It was her job, she assumed, to take them round and introduce them to the family, but for some reason she was hesitant about it, not least because she was aware of Diamond’s avid blue gaze fixed on Jonathan Darrell.
‘I expect you’d like to meet the rest of the family,’ she said, attempting a smile. ‘They’re most of them here, though I believe Stephen is still out making the most of the weather before we’re snowed in, as we may well be if that snow arrives.’ She was aware as she spoke of Jonathan Darrell’s grimace of dismay and she looked at the dark, expressive face with a trace of exasperation. ‘You need not worry, Mr. Darrell, you’ll be quite comfortable here even if we are snowed in, the house is quite warm.’
She did not wait for an answer, but led the way, rather stiff-backed, across the room to where Aunt Charlotte sat in her usual corner, her thin mouth set into a thin line of disapproval of everything around her.
Charlotte Kincaid was eighty years old, short and stockily built, with a pile of snow-white hair above a broad brow and sharp dark eyes that watched their approach with no enthusiasm. ‘Aunt Charlotte!’ Louise raised her voice and bent closer to the old lady. ‘This is Mr. Darrell and Miss Nostrum, they’ve come to see Great-gran.’
She turned to the visitors, her eyes asking for understanding, for not everyone took to Aunt Charlotte and she would hate to see her hurt by a careless word.
‘Mrs. Emma Kincaid’s only daughter,’ Jonathan Darrell, said, discreetly soft-voiced, and Louise nodded, wondering at his knowledge until she realised v that he would have researched the family history before setting out. It was a thought that gave her a momentary feeling of panic, but she swallowed hard and dismissed it impatiently.
Sharp old eyes looked at the stranger steadily for a moment before Charlotte accepted and shook his hand. ‘Who’d you say he was?’ she asked, and Louise bent closer.
‘Mr. Darrell, Aunt Charlotte, he’s a writer.’
‘Nonsense,’ Charlotte told her sharply, ‘he’s a Kincaid, anyone can see that. Looks like Father.’
It was as if Louise had had her own puzzle solved by the brusque announcement and she stared for a moment at Jonathan Darrell, surprising a flicker of uneasiness in his eyes when she glanced hastily at him to see his reaction to the statement.
A moment later, however, he bent closer to the irascible old lady and smiled. ‘I’m a Darrell, Miss Kincaid, not one of your family,’ he told her with infinite patience, it seemed, ‘and I’m very pleased to meet you.’
Aunt Charlotte’s gaze left him reluctantly and picked out his companion. ‘Who’s the gal?’ she demanded.
‘Miss Nostrum, Esther Nostrum,’ Louise supplied hastily, fearing further indiscretions. ‘Miss Nostrum’s a photographer, Aunt Charlotte.’
‘Odd name,’ Charlotte announced, and Louise flushed her embarrassment.
‘Aunt Charlotte!’
Jonathan Darrell appeared to find the opinion amusing, for he was laughing softly and Louise saw the wink he exchanged with Esther Nostrum as he answered. ‘Essie’s used to cracks about her name,’ he informed her, ‘but she refuses to change it to anything else.’ What he implied by the remark, Louise had no way of knowing, but she remembered, uncomfortably, her own and Diamond’s suspicions and flushed as if they had been voiced again, indiscreetly.
Charlotte was studying Jonathan Darrell again and Louise held her breath for fear of what she might say next. ‘Are you sure you’re not a Kincaid?’ she insisted, and he shook his head, smiling at her again.
He shook his head over her persistence. ‘I’m Jonathan James Darrell, Miss Kincaid,’ he assured her, ‘and I have been for the past twenty-seven years.’
‘Hmmm.’ Charlotte looked her doubt and Louise sighed inwardly, seeking a way to end the conversation.
‘Shall we move on?’ she suggested anxiously. .
The rest of the introductions went without further embarrassment, except when the absent members of the family were mentioned and she told them that Stephen Kincaid was staying at Cray but was, at the moment, out walking.
‘Aah, my room-mate, I believe.’ Jonathan Darrell’s dark eyes quizzed her for a second and she felt the warmth of colour in her face at his scrutiny. ‘He’s one of the few younger members of the family still unmarried, isn’t he?’
She nodded, unwilling to discuss Stephen’s unmarried state with him, especially as he looked at her with such obvious inference. He had no right to be so inquisitive about things that did not concern him and she would put him firmly in his place if he questioned her again.
She made the introduction to Diamond as brief as possible, but noted with surprise and disgust the way his voice took on a deeply seductive tone when he answered her very pointed questions. He so obviously enjoyed the admiration she willingly dispensed that Louise was hard put not to curl her lip scornfully.
Hector Kincaid rose from his chair as they approached and smiled a welcome, shaking hands with a vigour that belied his seventy-three years. ‘I left Robert sleeping in his room,’ he told Louise when introductions were complete, and completely unaware of the curl of embarrassment that engulfed her when she lowered her eyes before the politely enquiring gaze of the two strangers. ‘I hadn’t time to tell you when I came back,’ the old man went on blithely, ‘but he was worn out, not surprisingly, seeing he walked me over most of the island.’
‘You shouldn’t let him tire you, Grandpa,’ she told him gently, knowing he would be completely unaware of her feelings or he would never have mentioned Robert so blandly. He was so proud of him that he could not resist talking about him to anyone.
‘Robert’s my great-grandson,’ he explained proudly. ‘He’s only four, but he’s so energetic and such a lively fellow, he’s usually too much for me. He’s used to the island, you see, I’m not.’
Now it will start, Louise thought desperately, the curiosity and the questions, the probing and the raised eyebrows.
‘Your son?’ Enquiring brown eyes pitied and at the same time condemned her reluctance to admit it, so that she raised her head defiantly, a sparkle of anger in her own eyes at his presumption.
‘Yes,’ she said short
ly, ‘Robert’s my son.’
CHAPTER TWO
LOUISE lay back against the pillow on her bed, glad of a few moments’ quiet before the bustle of dinner. Her bed was now pushed into an unfamiliar position close to the window so that there was room to accommodate the extra one put in for Esther Nostrum to use.
Now she could see more of the sky than usual and disliked the dirty, yellowish grey colour it was, heavy and threatening a snow-storm that would probably mean days of isolation.
Normally she did not mind the periodic severence with the mainland that the winter brought, but now it was different. She could only thank heaven that there had been less discord amongst the family than she had feared, although Diamond’s silly, childish behaviour irritated most of them.
Colin and Diamond’s baby daughter, Poppy, had proved a great ice-breaker and her babyish prettiness and lack of inhibition delighted the aunts who cooed over her for hours.
Robert, her own son, was much more reserved with strangers, having known so few in his young life, and he had little to say to the bewildering number of extra relatives he suddenly found himself with.
Louise sighed deeply and got up from her half-lying position on the bed, hearing footsteps stop outside the bedroom door. A tentative knock preceded Esther Nostrum’s cautious entry into the room and Louise smiled at her in understanding.
‘It’s rather too easy to confuse the rooms, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘I suppose numbers would have been a good idea in the circumstances.’
The girl beamed a happy smile that seemed to be never very far away. ‘It’s O.K.,’ she told her, ‘I’m rather good at getting lost and it’s landed me in some very funny places. Jon will tell you, he’s used to me.’
‘Jon?’ Louise frowned for a moment before realisation dawned. ‘Oh, you mean Mr. Darrell. Do you work together a lot?’ She told herself she was not really curious, but was merely trying to put the other girl at her ease. Just the same she could not altogether dismiss the earlier suspicions she had shared with Diamond and which Jonathan Darrell had fed with his remark about his companion refusing to change her name.
‘Often enough.’ There was a small, tight smile at the corner of her mouth and she eyed Louise for a moment shrewdly. ‘I like working with Jon, I know I can trust him, and there’s not a lecherous thought in his head, bless him.’
‘Really?’ Louise dismissed the persistent word cosy, as used by Diamond. Apparently as far as Jonathan Darrell was concerned, appearances were deceptive, although she thought’ Esther Nostrum would have liked it otherwise.
‘Surprises you, does it?’ Esther asked, seemingly following her train of thought so that Louise swallowed hastily. ‘Well, it’s true. Jon Darrell’s as dedicated to his calling as a monk, he just isn’t interested in anything else.’ She flicked a swift appraising glance at her own reflection in the dressing-table mirror. ‘Not in small, blue-eyed blondes anyway,’ she added rather wistfully.
‘I hope you have enough room for all your things,’ Louise said, hastily changing the subject, and Esther smiled and nodded.
‘I’m a pessimist, Miss Kincaid, that’s my trouble,’ she admitted, and eyed her two suitcases with a rueful smile. ‘Jon said I looked as if I was coming on a month’s holiday instead of a two-day job.’ She looked out of the window at the darkening sky. ‘Anyway,’ she added, ‘it looks as if I may have the last laugh after all, though I hope for your sake we’re not stranded here. You’ve got enough on your plate without being landed with a couple of strangers as well for heaven knows how long.’
Louise smiled. ‘With so many extra ones,’ she assured her, ‘two more will scarcely be noticed, and we have plenty in the larder, you have no need to worry on that score.’ She sighed, adding almost unthinkingly, ‘I must admit, though, I do prefer Gray when it’s its more quiet self, we’re so quiet as a rule.’ The blue eyes surveyed her curiously, much as Jonathan Darrell’s had done earlier only without the condemnation for her reticence, and Louise steeled herself for the inevitable questions. ‘It must be rather lonely here for you, isn’t it? I mean, this enormous house and so few people. Most of the family are visitors, aren’t they?’ She laughed shortly and a little awkwardly. ‘I’m sorry, blame it on years of working with a reporter, it comes natural to ask questions.’
‘I don’t really mind,’ Louise assured her, not quite truthfully. ‘It is quiet here, but not lonely. There are eight of us, you know.’
‘Eight?’ The blue eyes looked surprised and Louise found herself drawn in spite of her dislike of being questioned.
‘There’s Hannah Grayston, whom you’ve seen, her son William who does odd jobs, Mrs. Phelps our cook, and Davey, christened Davida, the maid-of-all-work.’
‘And you and your little boy.’ Louise nodded, her expression determinedly blank. ‘That makes the eight with Aunt Charlotte.’
‘Mrs. Kincaid came from this island originally, didn’t she?’ Esther asked, and Louise nodded.
‘It was her most secret wish all the time she was in America and Canada to come back here to Berren as soon as she was able,’ she said softly, ‘but the pity was she couldn’t show her beloved island to Robert, her husband; she adored him.’
‘She sounds a very wonderful old lady,’ Esther observed, ‘I’m dying to meet her.’
‘You will at dinner,’ Louise promised with a wry smile, her eyes defying the other girl to make comment on the fact, ‘she plans to make a grand entrance. She has a great sense of occasion, Miss Nostrum, you’ll love her.’
Before Esther could confirm the opinion, a sound from the small dressing-room attached to their bedroom attracted them both and Louise walked over to the door that gave access to it. She brought Robert into the bigger room a few moments later, unable to conceal the glint of pride she had in her eyes for her son.
He was small and dark-haired and he eyed the stranger with suspicion, hanging on to Louise’s hand grimly. ‘Miss Nostrum, this is my son, Robert.’ She could not have sworn who was most on the defensive as she performed the introduction, herself or Robert. ‘Robert, this is Miss Nostrum who is staying with us for a little while.’
She knew Robert would be hating the thought of yet another strange face, but she was glad to note that the other girl proffered him a hand as she would have to an adult, breathing her relief that she had not bent and fussed over him like a baby, for he hated it.
‘Hello, Robert.’
Robert took the proffered hand and shook it solemnly. ‘How do you do?’ he asked, and glanced up at Louise for approval as he always did. She put a hand on his head and smiled at him, wishing his liquid dark eyes did not always remind her so of his father. She could never escape the ghost of Simon Dupont while Robert was there to remind her.
‘I wish you’d call me Essie,’ the girl complained lightly a few minutes later. ‘I’m not used to the formality of Miss Nostrum.’
Louise smilingly agreed. There was something refreshing and very likeable about Esther Nostrum, but she would never make the mistake of taking her almost childish friendliness at face value. There was a depth and a certain shrewdness about her, she guessed, and found the thought rather discomfiting.
The dining-room at Cray had seldom known such a large gathering, certainly not in its present owner’s time, and old Emma made her entrance with all the sense of occasion such an event demanded. She came into the room supported by Louise, in so far as she needed any support, for she looked as wiry and tough as she must have done half a century before.
Her blue eyes were incredibly bright and missed nothing of the varied expressions on the faces of her family, although her sight was not as good as those brilliant eyes gave the impression of. Her white hair had been dressed with rather more elaboration than usual, by Louise, and she held her head with an arrogance that was instinctive, as she made her entrance.
The visitors had arrived on the last boat the day before and the old lady had kept to her room, meeting no one, but reserving her strength for this meeting
at dinner when she knew they would all be there. She noted and nodded approval of Essie’s camera as it clicked away, much less nervous, Louise felt sure, than she was herself.
‘Who is everybody?’ There was a querulous note in the question, but the voice was amazingly clear and strong and she obviously had no intention of sitting down until she had met them all. ‘Louise, tell me who they all are.’
‘You know them all, darling,’ Louise chided gently. ‘Uncle Gavin and Aunt Jean, over there, and Stephen.’
‘Stephen!’ The bright old eyes softened and she held out her hands to her great-grandson.
Stephen Kincaid took the small fragile-looking hands in his and bent to kiss the old lady’s cheeks, while Louise studied her cousin with a smile. Stephen was an attractive man and he should really be married by now, she thought.
Tall and fair-skinned with blue eyes very like his great-grandmother’s, he had the dark hair inherited by most of his family, and his looks were striking rather than handsome. There was a time, Louise remembered, when it had been accepted that she and
Stephen would marry, but it had not worked out that way. Now, however, there were signs that Stephen himself was having thoughts about rekindling the affair, this time more seriously intent about it. Louise shrugged off the thought, unwilling to face the prospect yet, and aware that Emma Kincaid was demanding her attention again.
‘You remember Colin,’ she told the old lady, ‘and you’ve met Diamond, haven’t you?’
‘Hmm.’ Emma’s expression showed that she not only remembered meeting Diamond but also disapproved of her. ‘Where’s that son of mine?’ she demanded, and Hector Kincaid bent and kissed her gently.