by Lucy Gordon
‘This isn’t just beer,’ he said, scandalised. ‘It’s best Yorkshire bitter.’
‘I must have some sent back home. It’ll blow their minds.’
‘Back home,’ he echoed. ‘Your home’s thousands of miles away. Go back to it, Meryl. Take the beer. Take every drop in Yorkshire, but go back where you belong.’
‘I think someone’s trying to get your attention.’
Jarvis looked over his shoulder and swore. ‘That’s Andrew Carver, my solicitor,’ he muttered.
A harassed-looking middle-aged man bore down on them. ‘Jarvis, what a bit of luck. I gave up waiting for you at the office.’
‘I’m sorry, that was rude of me. Andrew, this is-’
It was clear that Andrew already knew. His greeting to Meryl was effusive, and he couldn’t keep his eyes from darting to her again and again.
‘Just a few things-’ Carver said hurriedly.
‘This isn’t a good time-’ Jarvis began.
‘Ten minutes. I promised Bates an answer today-you remember, about that guarantee with the bank? I know what we said but it’s only to tide him over for three months-’
‘Let me get you a drink, Mr Carver,’ Meryl said, rising.
She would have preferred to stay and listen, but she could sense Jarvis on hot coals, and suddenly she pitied him. He was like a man tied down with chains, forced to watch as more and more were laid on him.
She set Carver’s drink beside him and wandered out. The pub was built near the top of a gentle slope, and from the rail she could look down at the sunlit dales, dotted with woolly sheep who seemed so still that they might have been part of the landscape.
I belong here.
She looked around sharply to see who’d spoken, but she was alone. The words had flashed into her head without warning, and then out again, floating away on the gentle breeze.
Nonsense! she thought. Of course I don’t belong here. Ask Jarvis, he’ll tell you. He’ll probably shoot the messenger, too. It’s a lovely place and I’d like to stay awhile, but I don’t belong here because-because I don’t want to belong here.
She tried to picture her fun life in New York, and her even more fun life in Los Angeles. The parties, the expensive clothes, the glitter, the adoring men.
But the pictures wouldn’t come, and the men were hardest of all to get in focus. Who were they? What did they look like? The only face she could see was that of a tense angry man who needed her but couldn’t wait to be rid of her.
‘I don’t want to belong here,’ she said aloud.
A goat, contentedly grazing nearby, gave her a disdainful look and returned to work.
It might be destiny, but she’d always felt in charge of her own destiny, except for Larry Rivers’ unwelcome interventions. People were so eager to oblige Miss Winters.
Except one.
‘OK, he’s gone.’ Jarvis had appeared behind her. She wondered how long he’d been there, watching her. ‘Ready to go?’
‘Let me finish my beer. This is beautiful.’
‘You should see it when it’s under snow.’
‘I’ve already seen it when it wasn’t friendly. I can’t believe that was only two days ago.’
‘Surely-?’ He frowned. ‘No, you’re right. It is only two days.’
Two days and a hundred years.
‘By the way,’ he said as they returned to the Jeep, ‘thank you.’
‘Don’t tell me I’ve cracked your prejudice against me?’
‘Is it prejudice to say you don’t belong here?’
There was that phrase again.
‘I appreciate your making yourself scarce,’ he said.
‘Is Carver doing a good job for you?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Sure, I’m an interfering busybody, let’s take that as read. But if you’re already in such hock-and as your solicitor he must know it-why is he trying to get you in deeper?’
‘It’s just a guarantee, and only for three months.’
‘And then this Mr Bates will pay?’
Jarvis hesitated uneasily. ‘He’s had a very rough time recently-he deserves his chance, and nobody will help him if I don’t.’
‘You’re really paternalistic, aren’t you? Being a father to them.’
‘They need help,’ he said emphatically. ‘And there’s only me.’
‘And when Bates can’t pay, you’re that much closer to disaster. I don’t know the details, but I don’t think it’s going to take much to tip you over.’
‘Miss Winters, understand once and for all, I will not marry you.’
She sighed. ‘Boy, I must be losing my touch!’
Silence. Then, as though the words were torn from him. ‘You know better than that.’
She resisted the temptation to say, Yes, I do. She was learning.
They didn’t speak for a while. The dogs nuzzled her from the rear seat and she tickled their ears, trying not to fall in love with them. It was hard.
Above them the sky was darkening again. The glorious sunlight of a moment ago might never have been.
‘How can it change so fast?’ she demanded. ‘And it’s raining again. I don’t believe it.’
‘If you were stuck around here you’d believe it fast enough. This area is known for its rain.’
‘Good for farming, then.’
‘Excellent, but not good for a theme park. Oh, blast!’
The engine, which had been making melancholy noises for the last mile, finally decided it wasn’t worth the effort. They came to a shuddering halt.
With a muttered, ‘Stay here,’ Jarvis jumped out and hauled up the bonnet. Meryl followed at once.
‘I told you to stay where you were.’
‘And miss the chance of being soaked to death a second time? No way! What’s the matter?’
Jarvis made a maddened gesture at the engine, which was steaming ominously. ‘I don’t know, but it’s always happening. Luckily there’s a garage in Little Grands.’
‘Didn’t we come through Little Grands on the way here? It can’t be much more than a mile ahead.’
‘Right. But we’re stuck here with our dead vehicle.’
‘Not if we push it.’
‘We?’
She had to raise her voice to make herself heard above the rain. ‘Jarvis, you can either wait here with me, trying to make polite conversation, or we can move this thing to Little Grands.’
‘But you? Push?’
She lost her temper. ‘Unless you fancy harnessing the dogs.’
He didn’t argue further but went to the back of the Jeep. Meryl followed him at once, setting her shoulder to the other corner. She had just time to think, If they could see me now! before exerting all her strength and feeling the vehicle begin to move with agonising slowness.
Inch by inch, foot by foot, they crawled along until Little Grands came into sight, although still tantalisingly far off.
‘We can rest for a minute,’ Jarvis said, breathing heavily.
‘Resting is for wimps,’ she gasped.
‘Fine, we’ll be wimps.’ He gave her a glowering look. ‘We haven’t all got big muscles like you.’
She began to laugh, and choked almost at once as the rain got into her mouth.
‘Don’t,’ she begged, going into a coughing fit. ‘Oh, heavens!’
‘It’s all right.’ He thumped her on the back. She staggered and clung to him.
‘Fine,’ she gasped. ‘I’m OK now. Let’s get going.’
‘No need,’ he said, pointing down the road ahead. ‘That truck heading for us belongs to Mike, who owns the garage. What a bit of luck that he should have been coming back this way!’
In another minute Mike was with them, whistling when he saw the engine. Meryl got into his van while Jarvis helped him set up the tow, and soon they were on their way to the village.
‘It’ll take me a few hours,’ Mike said when the Jeep was in his garage and he’d taken a quick glance. ‘Do you want to get a
taxi home?’
‘No point,’ Jarvis said. ‘We’ve missed the afternoon low tide. But you should go,’ he added to Meryl. ‘I’ll call Ferdy to take you over with his boat.’
But she shook her head, teeth chattering. ‘I just need dry clothes. If I can have my bags and somewhere to change-’
Mike showed her across the road to a small inn called the Blue Gull, where she was able to hire a room with a minute bathroom. Mrs Helms, the plump landlady, brought her a huge mug of hot tea, which tasted better than anything in her life before, and half an hour in the shower made her feel almost human again.
Her elegant suitcases were largely water-tight, and she found her clothes in good condition. She picked out a heavy jersey sweater and skirt set in her favorite green, and brushed out her long black hair over her shoulders. It was still damp, so she left it hanging loose and went downstairs just as Jarvis entered the front door.
The rain was still pelting down, and in the short time it had taken him to cross the yard his hair had become soaked again. So had his jacket. Mrs Helms fussed over him, putting his jacket on a chair and giving him a towel for his hair. He rubbed vigorously and finally came up for air to find Meryl standing before him. He hadn’t noticed her before, and it gave him an unnerving feeling, as though she had appeared by magic.
‘Are you feeling better?’ he asked.
‘Fine, now I’m dry.’ She returned the mug to Mrs Helms. ‘Thank you so much for this. It saved my life.’
Mrs Helms had a fat, cosy chuckle. ‘You looked just about drowned,’ she said.
‘That’s Lord Larne’s fault,’ Meryl said wickedly. ‘I think there must be a law that says I can never meet him without getting soaking wet.’
‘So be warned,’ Jarvis growled.
‘You mean, “be off”, don’t you?’
‘If you know what I mean, I don’t need to say it.’ But he spoke without the rancour that would once have been in his voice.
‘How’s the car?’
‘It’ll be ready in time for the next low tide.’
‘And that’s when?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘Two in the morning.’
‘I sure pick ’em.’
‘Shall I get you that taxi?’
‘No, but you can get me something to eat.’
‘I guess I owe you that. I expect you’re aching all over.’
‘Nothing a good, solid Yorkshire meal won’t put right.’
‘Ready in five minutes,’ Mrs Helms sang out. ‘I’ve put you a table near the fire.’
It was too early in the year for visitors, so they had the place to themselves. Rusty and Jacko had come in with their master and sprawled contentedly by the fire. Meryl looked around, enchanted by the oak beams and the fact that this building was clearly several hundred years old. Then she caught Jarvis’s eyes on her and read ‘theme park’ in them. Huffed, she joined Mrs Helms in the kitchen.
If anything this was worse, because the landlady showed her around like a royal guest. Evidently she too had heard the gossip. When she loaded a tray with more tea Meryl said, ‘I’ll take that,’ and fled.
She found Jarvis on an old oak settle by the fire, his body sprawled in an attitude of weariness, his head fallen back against a side wing. He was asleep.
Now she could see him with all expression stripped away Meryl realised that he looked older than thirty-three, not old in years but in strain and worry. There were two deep lines at the side of his mouth that mirrored the ones in his grandfather’s portrait, but which shouldn’t have appeared on this young man for several years. His eyes had a faint bruised appearance, as though he never slept-never dared, flashed across her mind-except, as now, in brief snatches. Then he would jerk awake with an alarmed alertness, bracing himself for the next burden to be laid on his back.
No wonder he was grouchy, she thought, and for a moment everything was washed away except compassion for him. He was being slowly ground down by problems others had created, and he no longer knew how to reach out for help. If, indeed, he’d ever known.
She purposely made a noise setting down the tray so that he would awaken to find her looking away from him. ‘Is there a special way I should pour your tea?’ she asked lightly as he rubbed his eyes.
‘Strong, with two sugars.’
She managed to get it right and he sipped the powerful brew with a sigh of satisfaction.
‘I suppose you heard everything in the Library this morning?’ he said. ‘Did you have a good laugh?’
‘I’m not laughing. It’s frightening how much it means to them.’
Jarvis gave her a quick glance. Frightening was the very word he’d been using to himself and it alarmed him to know how well their thoughts were in tune.
Mrs Helms bustled in with a big meal which she served on the little table between them. She didn’t leave until Meryl had tasted some of it and pronounced it delicious.
‘You know why she’s hanging on your opinion?’ Jarvis demanded. ‘You see the damage you’ve caused by raising their hopes?’
‘I raised their hopes? Who spread the story of my arrival? Not me.’
He sighed. ‘No. It was Hannah. I know that. She thinks it’s all so easy.’
‘She thinks what they all think, that you’ve been offered a chance to get everyone out of trouble. If you don’t take it, they won’t understand.’
‘Then I’ll have to try to make them understand that there never was such a chance. You and I met, decided we couldn’t deal together, and that was it. I seem to recall your saying that I didn’t appeal to you.’
She looked at him, his profile sharp and uncompromising, and a tremor went through her as she remembered last night.
‘Will they believe that?’ she mused. ‘They think women must be falling over themselves to marry Lord Larne.’
‘Well, you can tell them they’re wrong, can’t you?’
‘That’ll reflect very badly on you. I think the idea is that you’re supposed to use your charms to persuade me.’
It was true, he realised with an inward groan. He’d been both touched and worried by his tenants’s fear, and their confidence that he could save them. And he had no other way of doing it. That was the plain truth. Perhaps, for their sakes, it was his duty to enter this appalling arrangement.
For it did appal him. From the day he’d become Lord Larne he’d always been in control-of his land, his people and of himself. But this woman threatened his control in every possible way.
‘Perhaps you ought to at least try,’ she mused. ‘After all, you owe it to them. It would be a shame if they thought Lord Larne couldn’t make it.’
‘You’ll go too far,’ he growled.
She chuckled. ‘It’s funny how people are always telling me that.’
Her hair fell forward and she swept it back, winding the long tail around and around until she could leave it in a twisted rope that immediately started to become loose again.
‘It’s a pity I arrived in a downpour,’ she said. ‘It reminds people of the legend so now they can’t see me as I really am.’
‘Yes, that must be it,’ he agreed slowly. The warmth from the fire was getting to him and he was relaxing, letting down his guard with her, against his better judgement.
‘Who was she in real life? Hannah said something about a French woman.’
‘That’s right. Marguerite de Vendanne, only child of one of the wealthiest men in France. She brought a fabulous dowry, and when her father died a year later she inherited everything.’
‘And “saved the family”?’ Meryl finished lightly.
‘Insofar as money could save it, yes. It wasn’t a happy family, although the marriage started out well. Giles Larne was handsome, and he dazzled poor Marguerite until she swore she’d marry nobody else. That was quite a stand for a young woman to take in those days, especially one who was such a catch. But she was brave and determined.’ He smiled. ‘Like you.’
‘Only in my case people say “stubborn
as a donkey”.’
‘I expect her father said that about her, too. She wasn’t just rich and beautiful. She was a witch.’
She laughed. ‘No, seriously.’
‘I am serious. She vanished suddenly.’
‘You mean she went up in a puff of smoke at the wedding?’
‘No, she stayed for about two years, and had a son. But then she just disappeared and nobody ever knew what became of her. There were stories. Some people said they’d seen her fly away from the top of one of the towers, so they called her a witch.’
Actually they’d called her the enchantress, but, sitting here with this black-haired woman who’d risen from the sea to torment him with hopes and dreams, and who would disappear again at any moment, he didn’t want to think of enchantment.
‘The truth is more prosaic, of course,’ he went on. ‘It always is. She was the faithless one. She tired of poor old Giles pretty soon and started casting eyes at one of his stewards. The two of them vanished together. I’ll show you her portrait in the castle. She’s wearing a triple rope of pearls that were famous in their day. They vanished with her and were never heard of again, so I suppose they sold them off one by one and lived on the money. She took her maid, but left her baby son behind.’
‘And nobody ever spotted them?’
‘This was the fifteenth century. They couldn’t plaster missing persons all over the television screen. If people didn’t know what you looked like, and you had money, you could hide successfully. Giles never recovered from losing her. He took to drink and was dead in five years, leaving their son to inherit.’
‘What a sad story. That poor man!’
‘Yes, he must have thought everything was going to be wonderful, and he didn’t know what had hit him.’
‘You know, this food really is delicious,’ she said appreciatively. ‘These little batter cakes-’
‘Yorkshire puddings.’
‘I’d almost marry you just to have them every day.’
Instead of rising to the bait he merely raised his eyebrows ironically. She laughed and it was allowed to drop. They ate slowly, lulled to sleepiness by the warmth after the cold and wet outside. Meryl felt herself suffused by drowsy contentment. When, she wondered, had she last been content in the whirl and bustle of a moneyed life?