By now they had reached the shelter of the island and the sea swell abated a little as they anchored in the lee of the great cliffs. A rowing boat was lowered and Marcus and Colin McCrae assisted Beth down the ladder to a place in the stern. It seemed the work of moments for two burly seamen to row them ashore and pull the boat up on the shingle of the beach. A cart was already waiting at the bottom of the cliff and they lurched up a rough track that seemed carved into the face of the rock, Beth clinging to the sides of the cart whenever they turned a corner and the wheels seemed to skim the thin air. Suddenly the walls of the castle rose before her, Saintonge Castle, built by her forebears so many years before. A lump came into her throat and for a moment she was afraid she would cry.
There was a reception party waiting for them at the bottom of the castle steps. It seemed that every man woman and child on the island had assembled to greet the new Earl. Beth became suddenly and devastatingly aware of the figure she must cut as she crouched in the back of the cart, her hair straggling from her bonnet in rats’ tails and her soaking dress and cloak clinging to her body in a manner far too voluptuously revealing. No doubt the good villagers of Fairhaven would think the sailors had brought their concubine with them! As for what Marcus’s relatives would make of her…Uncharacteristic reticence made her hang back, but it was too late, for Marcus was climbing down from the cart and had cheerfully swept her up in his arms, to deposit her right in front of the curious crowd. Beth suspected that he had done it on purpose.
‘Marcus, by all that’s holy!’ A voice boomed from behind them. ‘I never thought to see the day! The lord moves in mysterious ways!’
Beth and Marcus both spun round. An elderly woman was descending the steps from the castle entrance. She was not fat so much as large, and recognisably a Trevithick from her very dark brown eyes, high cheekbones and the luxuriant dark hair that was coiled in a huge chignon in the nape of her neck. She was improbably dressed in pink satin with matching embroidered slippers, and a scarlet cloak was thrown carelessly about her shoulders and was now flapping in the strong wind. Beth found that she was staring.
‘A plague upon this weather!’ the woman said cheerfully, grasping Marcus to her and kissing him enthusiastically on both cheeks. ‘Seven plagues upon it! My, my, how you’ve grown!’
‘Aunt Sal,’ Marcus said, grinning, ‘it is such a pleasure to see you again!’
‘And you, dear boy!’ Salome Trevithick looked round and her bright brown gaze fell on Beth. ‘Bless me, a stranger in the desert!’ Then, at Beth’s look of puzzlement, she added, ‘Isaiah thirty-five, verse six, my dear.’
‘Aunt Sal, this is Beth Allerton,’ Marcus said formally. ‘Lady Allerton, my aunt, Lady Salome Trevithick.’
‘Welcome, my dear!’ Salome Trevithick extended a hand sparkling with diamonds. She looked Beth over approvingly. ‘A veritable angel, Marcus, albeit a rather sodden one!’
Beth blushed.
‘Aunt Sal writes all my uncle’s sermons,’ Marcus explained in an undertone, ‘so her conversation is always peppered with Biblical allusions! Indeed, she quotes the Bible at every available opportunity!’ He raised his voice. ‘Is Uncle St John not with you, Aunt? I was hoping—’
‘Alas, St John has taken a journey into a far country,’ Salome said, beaming. ‘He has been called to the Bishop at Exeter, my dears. Apparently the poor man had heard that St John was drunk in the pulpit last month and demanded an explanation!’
‘Nothing else to do on Fairhaven!’ a voice from the back of the crowd shouted.
Marcus turned back to the villagers, who had been waiting with good-humoured patience. ‘Thank you for such a warm welcome to the island!’ His voice carried easily to everyone. ‘It is good to be here at last, even on such an inclement day!’
‘You should see the place in really bad weather!’ the voice at the back of the crowd responded.
Everyone laughed. ‘I am sure I shall!’ Marcus said, grinning. ‘For now, I am happy to see you all and to introduce Lady Allerton, who is to be the new owner of Fairhaven.’
To Beth’s horror, Marcus pulled her to his side. ‘I know that many of you will remember Lady Allerton’s grandfather, Charles Mostyn, and be glad that the days of a Mostyn landlord are to return!’
A curious murmur ran through the crowd. Beth’s smile faded as she saw the looks on the faces of the people in front of her. From smiling good humour they had moved to uncertainty and even sullenness. Some were muttering to each other and a few were watching her with undisguised hostility. Even Salome Trevithick looked stern. Beth bit her lip, conscious of their resentment but taken aback by the suddenness with which it had sprung up.
There was an awkward pause, then a woman who had been standing a little apart from the crowd bent down to murmur in the ear of the small blonde child beside her. A moment later, the girl had trotted forward and held out a wilting posy to Beth.
‘Welcome to the island, my lady,’ she whispered.
Beth forgot about the strange hostility of the crowd and her own dishevelled state. She smiled at the child, then crouched down to take the flowers and give her small admirer a kiss. The little girl looked at her with huge, considering blue eyes for a moment, then smiled back, stuck her thumb in her mouth and ran back to her mother. Another murmur ran through the crowd, this time of guarded approval.
‘Prettily done,’ Salome Trevithick said gruffly, grasping Beth’s elbow and helping her to her feet. ‘Suffer the little children to come unto me! Matthew nineteen, verse fourteen! Let me show you to your room, Lady Allerton. You look in sore need of some refreshment!’ She linked her arm through Beth’s and steered her up the castle steps. ‘Some of the islanders have long memories, I fear, Lady Allerton. But ashes to ashes, I always say, and never speak ill of the dead!’
Before Beth could ask her to explain this strange pronouncement she found herself inside the castle and forgot everything in admiration of the sheer splendour of it all. Saintonge Castle had originally been built in the thirteenth century, but within the huge, windowless walls, a more modern dwelling had been fashioned. The stone-flagged entrance hall was neither as shabby nor as bare as Beth had imagined it, but was hung with rich tapestries and decorated with polished silver. Salome ushered her upstairs, to an opulent suite of rooms set into the southern wall of the castle. There was a huge bedroom with a wide window that looked out over the sea, a sitting room with a most comforting fire, and a modern bathroom with the biggest bath Beth had ever seen. She went back into the bedroom and walked over to the stone casement, standing by the window to look at the huge sweeping panorama of the sea. She gave a little sigh.
‘Oh, how beautiful!’
‘Bless you, my child!’ Lady Salome said, moist-eyed. ‘It is indeed a lovely place! Now, I shall send Martha McCrae to you in a little while to see if you need anything. She is the mother of that delightful child who greeted you outside!’ She paused. ‘Martha will bring you dinner in your room tonight, for we do not eat en famille until tomorrow. I thought you might be too tired for company!’
‘Thank you!’ Beth said gratefully. She did indeed feel worn out with travelling and trying to absorb new experiences. Lady Salome smiled and went out, red cloak flying, and Beth sank down on to the window seat to look out, entranced, across the bay.
She was still sitting there half an hour later, when Martha McCrae knocked at the door and came timidly into the room, bearing a supper tray.
‘Is everything to your liking, my lady?’ The housekeeper sounded a little strained.
Beth turned to her with a smile. ‘Oh, of course! It is entirely delightful! I am just so taken aback by the beauty of the whole island!’
Martha McCrae smiled shyly. Unlike her blonde daughter, she had soft brown hair and kind brown eyes. Her complexion was very pale and freckled, and her face wore an unmistakably worried air. Beth wondered what could be making her so nervous.
‘Have you lived on Fairhaven for long, Mrs McCrae?’ she asked, anxious t
o put the woman at her ease.
The housekeeper nodded. ‘A little while, Lady Allerton, but not as long as Lady Salome and the vicar. I came here as a bride six years ago, when the old Earl took Colin on as his estate manager here.’ She wiped her hands down her apron in a sudden, nervous gesture. ‘It has not always been easy—the winters are hard and the Earl—well, I believe that he forgot about us being here sometimes.’ She sighed. ‘That is why we thought…When we heard that the new Earl was finally coming here, we hoped—’ she broke off and resumed ‘—we hoped he might have the good of the island at heart. But it seems he intends to give Fairhaven away—’
She broke off and her pale face flushed bright red. ‘Forgive me, my lady. I was thinking aloud! Excuse me. I will send a maid up with some water…’
And before Beth could say another word, she had turned and fled.
Beth sat down a little heavily on the edge of the big tester bed and pecked half-heartedly at the food on the tray. Now she understood—in part, at least—the hostility of the villagers. Like the McCraes, they had believed that Marcus’s arrival on Fairhaven must herald a better time ahead. They had flocked to welcome him, buoyed up by hope and expectation. And almost the first thing that he had done was tell them that he was giving Fairhaven over to her. Worse, her arrival threatened the future of St John and Salome, the only members of the Trevithick family who had ever shown any loyalty to the island and its inhabitants…
The water arrived. Beth stripped off her sodden clothes and washed the sticky salt from her skin. She felt tired and light-headed. The seasickness had gone now, although the floor still showed a disturbing tendency to rock beneath her feet. She donned a fresh petticoat and was about to lie down when she heard the echo of a door closing below and footsteps ascending the stairs.
‘All I am saying, my lord, is that the Fairhaven estate is no plaything for a girl—’
The voice was that of Colin McCrae, pitched somewhat louder than his customary soft burr because of the passion with which he spoke. Marcus replied, but Beth could not hear his quieter tones.
‘And with the current threat from the sea, it would be the greatest folly—’
‘That will be short-lived.’ Marcus’s voice was clipped. ‘We land Marchant’s cargo tomorrow night.’
Beth’s curiosity was caught. Where previously she had tried not to overhear, now she strained closer. The men had paused on the landing, a little away from her room. They were speaking quietly, but she caught the odd phrase here and there and pressed against the door to try to hear more.
‘Will you tell Lady Salome?’ Colin McCrae was asking now, his voice amused. ‘I can imagine her reaction…’
‘Oh, Aunt Sal is up to all the rigs!’ Marcus laughed. ‘There can be no harm in telling her about the business with Marchant!’
‘And Lady Allerton?’
Marcus’s voice had sobered. ‘No. There is no need for that. Now, Colin, you were telling me about the need to build a new barn up at Longhouses…’
Their footsteps and their voices blurred as they passed Beth’s door and moved on. She expelled a sharp breath and leant against the panels, pushing the door closed. Her head was spinning.
The threat from the sea…Marchant’s cargo…and the fact that Marcus did not intend to tell her…Her imagination raced. Could it be—was it possible—that Marcus was using Fairhaven Island for smuggling, as his grandfather had done before him? Certainly the island was perfectly placed for such a venture and she knew that Marcus needed to make money.
Beth lay down on the bed and stared fixedly up at the vast canopy. It all seemed to hang together. She had suspected from the first that Marcus intended to travel to Fairhaven. Her presence had provided the perfect excuse and the perfect camouflage. His ship had been ready and waiting in Bridgwater, so clearly his men must have received their instructions some days before. Lady Salome and all the villagers had been expecting their arrival. There was evidently a plan.
And who knew what cargo the Marie Louise had been carrying today. Marchant’s cargo, Marcus had said. Perhaps Marchant was the free trader with whom Marcus was in business…Beth turned over restlessly, wondering if she should confront Marcus straight away or wait until she had some evidence. Her instinct was to challenge him at once, to demand an interview now and have it out with him, but she reluctantly decided to wait. It went against her nature but Marcus had been so sparing of the truth up until now that Beth had no doubt he would think of some plausible excuse. Better to keep quiet and watch what happened. And she would not have long to wait, for if Marcus was correct, tomorrow night would reveal the truth.
Dinner the following day was an entertaining meal. Beth had spent much of the day resting and felt quite restored by the time she joined Marcus and his aunt in the castle’s impressive dining room. Lady Salome was resplendent in purple satin, orange turban and pearls, and Beth felt supremely dowdy in her practical grey gown. She remained quiet whilst Marcus and his aunt covered all the family gossip, but then Salome moved on to ply her with eager questions about London, the fashions, the scandals and the entertainments, and Beth soon forgot her reserve. They chatted through to dessert, when Lady Salome started on a series of outrageous anecdotes about her own Season some thirty years before, looking from Beth to Marcus with sparkling brown eyes.
‘I did not take, my dears. The style was for plump girls with fluffy blonde hair—rather like those little dogs that Lady Caroline Lamb is said to favour—so I was utterly unfashionable! I was in despair of ever finding a rich husband and even considered running off with my piano teacher, but he always smelled of mothballs and that was quite quelling to passion!’ She popped a sugared plum into her mouth and pushed the dish in Beth’s direction. ‘Where was I? Oh, yes…Well Papa was a man of little patience and when I had not caught a husband after a few months he decided to despatch me to Fairhaven! St John had lost his housekeeper here—she fell from the cliffs in strange circumstances—and so Papa thought to save some money by sending me in her place!’
Beth smiled. ‘Have you lived here ever since, Lady Salome? It is a very long time!’
‘Oh, yes, my dear, but then it is my home. Home is where the heart is. Now is that St Mark’s Gospel or the Book of Proverbs?’
‘Neither, I believe.’ Marcus laughed. He stood up. ‘Excuse me, ladies. I will take my port and rejoin you in the drawing room shortly.’
‘Take your time, dear,’ Salome said absently. ‘Lady Allerton and I have much to talk about! Ah, the sweetness of a friend!’ She looked triumphant. ‘Now, that is the Book of Proverbs!’
Marcus bowed and went out, a twinkle in his eye, and Beth sighed unconsciously. For all the relaxed atmosphere of the meal and the entertaining company of Lady Salome, she did not delude herself that she was forgiven. Marcus had barely spoken to her directly during the evening, except to ask if her room was comfortable and if she had everything she required, and she felt uncomfortable in his presence. Once or twice she had caught his gaze upon her, expressionless or stern, but when she had looked up at him he had not smiled in return. There was so much that needed to be said between them, yet she did not know where to start. Last night he had been too angry to listen to her. Now she hardly dared approach him, particularly if it were only to stir up more trouble on the matter of smuggling.
‘You look sad, my dear,’ Lady Salome said comfortingly, when they were ensconced in front of the drawing-room fire and had a big pot of tea between them. ‘I suppose you must be tired from your travels and all the excitement of reaching Fairhaven at last! Marcus tells me that it has long been an ambition of yours to regain the island for your family!’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’ Beth said dolefully. Suddenly, sitting here under Lady Salome’s bright gaze, it did not seem such a worthy thing to want to reclaim Fairhaven. ‘Ever since I was a little girl I wanted to come here, but…’ she looked up, troubled ‘…I did not think…What will you do, ma’am, if you leave the island?’
‘Oh, I s
hall travel to the fleshpots of Exeter!’ Salome said enthusiastically, ladling three spoonfuls of sugar into her tea. ‘Or perhaps to London itself—Sodom and Gomorrah rolled into one! You have no idea, my love, how frustrating it is to receive six-month-old copies of the Ladies’ Magazine and never to have the fashionable clothes to wear when one goes out! And then there is the food—salted, pickled but seldom fresh! Unless one likes turnips, of course, but I never have! Indeed, I am aux anges to be thinking of escape!’
Beth smiled, but she was not convinced. She knew that Lady Salome thought of Fairhaven as home and suspected that the redoubtable spinster was just putting a brave face on things. Besides, there was St John to think of as well—how would an elderly cleric cope with a new parish when he had become so attached to his eccentric islanders, and they to him?
‘Besides—’ Lady Salome leant forward a little arthritically to put another log on the fire and Beth hurried to help her ‘—you are so rich, my dear! You may give the island all the things it needs!’
‘Materially, perhaps,’ Beth murmured. She smiled at Lady Salome. ‘Surely there are other things more important? The love of money is the root of all evil, after all! The Book of Timothy, I think!’
‘Very good!’ Lady Salome clapped her hands. ‘But, oh, to be the one camel that passes through the eye of the needle! Matthew nineteen, verse twenty-four!’ She happily capped Beth’s quotation, then fixed her with her perceptive dark gaze. ‘Tell me, do you like Marcus, Lady Allerton?’
The abrupt change of subject took Beth aback a little. Normally she would have prevaricated, particularly on so short an acquaintance. Yet there was something about Lady Salome’s open friendliness that made her reply truthfully.
‘Yes. Yes, I do. I like the Earl of Trevithick a lot, but…’ A tiny frown wrinkled her brow.
‘But!’ Lady Salome said sonorously. ‘There is always a but!’
Lady Allerton's Wager Page 16