Angry with herself for having shown that she was startled, Andrea recovered herself quickly. She faced him squarely, her eyes as bleak and cold as Leo’s might have been.
“What are you doing here, Luke?” she demanded curtly. “I thought it had been made perfectly clear to you that you were not welcome.”
His eyes glinted momentarily with anger, but his voice was soft and even amused as he answered her.
“Now some chaps would get upset at being talked to like that,” Luke drawled. “But me ... I like a girl with spirit. You’re a good-looker at any time, Andrea, but when you’re angry, well, then you’re terrific! I don’t wonder Leo enjoyed taming you!”
Her eyes blazing in her white face, Andrea lifted her hand and gave him a stinging blow on the cheek. Then, without a word, she turned and would have left him, but Luke shot out a hand and caught her by the shoulder.
“Not so quick, young woman!” he said through clenched teeth. “Nobody, man or woman, hits Luke Polwyn and gets away with it! You’ll pay for that one of these days! But it can wait, meantime. There’s other things more important to be discussed.”
“I’ve nothing to discuss with you,” Andrea insisted. “Understand that, Luke, because I mean it! I don’t trust you. You’re a troublemaker and you’ve got far too good an opinion of yourself. The sooner you get another job and clear out of St. Finbar the better, because I’m not going to employ you any more!”
“Who said anything about employing?” Luke drawled mockingly. “You and I are going to be partners, Andrea. That’s the way I see it.”
“Well, I don’t!” Andrea retorted. “And that’s final!”
“You think it over,” Luke advised. “You’ll see you can’t do without me. Who else is there to run things if I don’t?”
“Me,” Andrea told him coolly. ‘I shall take Leo’s place—”
Luke flung back his head and laughed loudly.
“You? A bit of a girl! The men wouldn’t stand for it!”
“Do you think they would stand for you running things?” Andrea asked scornfully. “I don’t! They don’t trust you any more than I do—or than Leo did! And I think they’ll feel less like trusting you than ever now.”
“Here! What do you mean by that?” Luke demanded suspiciously.
“Just this—Simon said Leo told him that you were a bit worried that one of the lobster pots would break loose. He didn’t understand why, but of course I did. So did Madam. So did everyone in St. Finbar. You thought everyone was lying when they said we didn’t meet the Dutch boat. You accused Leo of trying to do you out of your share. So you wanted to bring the pot in to make sure. And that means it was your fault that Leo was drowned.”
“That’ll do!” Luke said roughly. “It was Leo who said we’d go out just to prove I was wrong. Not that it would have done. It’s easy enough to swap one pot for another. And I wouldn’t put it past any of the village chaps to be glad of a chance to do me.”
“And yet you think they’d be willing to follow you if I let you run things!” Andrea said contemptuously. “I told you you’d got too good an opinion of yourself. The men wouldn’t stand for it—and neither will I!”
“Now just you listen to me for a minute,” Luke replied deliberately. “I say they won’t stand for you as leader. You say the same about me. All right. All the same, if it isn’t you and it isn’t me, who is it going to be? You tell me that!”
Andrea was silent.
“See? There’s no answer to that, and you know it. So what I say is, if you and me get married and we run it together, they’ll have to put up with it because there’s nobody could stand up against the two of us. What’s more, in time, with everything going smooth, they’d realize that, name or not, I am a Trevaine and all that it means. Now do you see?”
“It’s an ingenious idea,” Andrea admitted coolly. “In fact, I’ve only one thing against it.”
“Oh, and what’s that!” It was clear from Luke’s complaisance that he thought he had persuaded her and that she was only going to make some nominal objection for the sake of her pride.
“Just this, Luke Polwyn,” Andrea said with deadly quietness, “I’d sooner go unmarried to my grave than have you for a husband!”
Luke’s swarthy face flamed with fury at the insult.
“Would you, now!” he said thickly. “Well, unless you change your mind, it’s likely you will go unwed, for if anyone comes near you ... well, they’ll be sorry, that’s all!”
Andrea shrugged her shoulders contemptuously.
“Much smoke, little fire,” she quoted.
“Oh, so you think I’d be scared, do you? Well, you remember this. I nearly got both of them, not so long ago.”
“Both of them?” Andrea said sharply. “What do you mean?” Luke chuckled.
“Another inch and I’d have got the dark one! And if I had, the red one would have swung for it. That was the way I planned it... only the light wasn’t good enough. Well, the red one’s gone now—drowned instead of hanged. Well, I’m not particular. He’s gone. That’s all that matters. As for the dark one...” He drew a long breath. “They say he’s in love with you. Is that so?” Andrea flung up her head and faced him proudly.
“No, it is not!” she said emphatically.
Luke’s eyes half closed.
“Leo thought it was,” he said insinuatingly. “That was why he was so put out when I knifed that precious cousin of yours. He knew, if I’d pulled it off, everyone would have thought he’d done it because Simon was making love to you on the sly.”
It was true and Andrea knew it. Leo had been suspicious, though why, she had never been able to understand. Simon had never given the least sign of anything like that. If anything, he had almost seemed to avoid being alone with her...
“You’re out early this morning, Polwyn!”
Andrea and Luke started violently. Simon could not possibly have known it, but he could hardly have chosen words more disconcerting to both of them. It was as if a dead voice had spoken, using words so very nearly the same as on a previous occasion. And Simon, standing there with a gun under his arm, was regarding Luke with eyes as steely and purpose as clear as Leo’s had been.
Luke swallowed convulsively and recovered himself with difficulty.
“What concern’s that of yours?” he asked insolently.
Simon did not trouble to reply. He knew that, in some way he could not understand, he had got the initial advantage over Luke and he did not intend losing it by entering into an argument. He turned to Andrea.
“Madam is awake and would like you to go to her.” Speechless, Andrea nodded and fled. She knew perfectly well that Simon was giving her an order he meant to have obeyed, but he was doing it in a way that saved her pride in front of Luke. She was grateful to him—and at the same time resentful. He had no right to give her orders, and yet, if he had not come, she did not quite know what would have happened. Luke was going to be more difficult than she had imagined. She wondered how much Simon had heard and what he would say to Luke.
But it was to Madam, not Andrea, that Simon gave his confidence. In fact, she sent for him and demanded it.
“Andrea tells me that Luke made a nuisance of himself this morning, and you turned up. Also that you gave her an entirely fictitious message from me. Well?”
She looked desperately little and frail in the big bed, but her spirit was an indomitable as ever. Simon, looming over her, felt his heart go out to her and took her hand in his.
“I wanted to have a word with Luke on my own and it was the easiest way. Forgive me, Madam!”
The faintest of smiles curved Madam’s pale lips.
“Oh, I forgive you,” she told him. “You wanted to get rid of Andrea and you had no intention of giving her a chance of refusing to obey you in front of Luke. You were quite right.”
“I also wanted to give Andrea a chance to get away without humiliating her in front of that fellow,” Simon said bluntly.
“So you do
n’t like Luke!” Madam sounded amused. “Do you know who he is?”
Simon shrugged his shoulders.
“Some sort of distant cousin, I’ve always understood. Through your sister Esther who married John Polwyn, wasn’t it?”
“That, yes. But there is a closer relationship.” She looked him straight in the face. “Luke—and Leo—were half-brothers. Only Luke has no right to the Trevaine name, though he was the older by well over a year.”
“So that’s it!” Simon said softly. “I realized that, in some ways, he is a cut above most of the men, but I had no idea...”
“You wouldn’t,” Madam said dryly. “It is not the sort of thing one advertises! But you see now why Luke is so dangerous. Everything that he has ever wanted, Leo had. First of all, the name, the estate and even more, the leadership that goes with it. Then Andrea...”
Simon caught his breath, aghast at the significance of the last two words.
“Ah, now you understand!” Madam said with satisfaction.
“Yes,” Simon said slowly. “If he wanted Andrea before, how much more will he want her now that through her, he could be master of Galleon House and all that it means!”
“And all that it means!” Madam repeated, her eyes watchful.
“But Andrea would never...” Simon said, and stopped short. Andrea, he had always been sure, was not in love with Leo. Was it because she cared for someone else? Luke? It seemed incredible—and yet was it? As he had told Madam, he had realized that there was something different about the man from the rest of the villagers. He lacked Leo’s fire, but it appeared the same blood ran in their veins.
“Listen to me, Simon!” Madam said peremptorily. “Leo told you about the trouble we had here because the men were not earning enough with their fishing. And about buying the Cormorant so that they could go farther afield. Surely you appreciate that to bring that about, there had to be a leader. They found their natural one in Leo. Now someone must take his place. Luke has realized that. He made it very clear to Andrea this morning. His plan is that they get married because, as he says with some truth, it isn’t a woman’s job. But he isn’t too sure that they would accept him—unless he can consolidate his position by marrying Andrea. And to bring that about, I tell you, Simon, he will stop at nothing!”
“He can’t marry her against her will,” Simon insisted uneasily. Madam’s dark eyes were scornful.
“No? Believe me, he is at least enough of a Trevaine not to let a woman’s feeling stand in his way!” she said dryly.
Simon looked at her sharply. Did she realize, as he had done, that despite Andrea’s childhood adoration of Leo, she had not wanted to marry him?
But Madam, as if she felt she had said too much, had dropped her eyes and her face was expressionless. He could not tell what was in her mind.
“I am a very tired, sad old woman,” she said tremulously. “And I have lived too long. My husband, my son, even my grandson, have all gone, and there is nothing left for me to do. No one left who needs me. Surely, when one’s heart dies, one’s body must die as well!”
“Madam, Madam!” Simon put his arms around her as Leo might have done and held her close. “You mustn’t talk like that. Andrea needs you ... you’ve just made that clear...”
For the briefest of moments, Madam leaned against him. “You are a good boy, Simon. No, a good man! That is still better. But it is not me whom Andrea needs. There is nothing I can do for her. That lies in your hands, my dear.”
Simon caught his breath. He had always been sure that Madam had guessed his secret. Now he knew that he had been right.
“I’m not going to pretend that I don’t know what you mean, Madam,” he said sternly. “But in one way at least, I’m not, apparently, a true Trevaine. For I will not have a wife who does not come to me of her own free will!”
Madam, smiling faintly, lay back on her pillows.
“Ah well, who knows? Perhaps there is a way out that neither of us can see for the moment! And now, my dear, I would like to rest, for you are right. There is still something for me to do, and I must husband my strength. You will stay until after Trenire, the solicitor, returns?”
“If you wish...” Simon said doubtfully, unable to understand her insistence.
“I do not wish it,” she said strongly. “I ... beg you to stay, Simon. And it does not come easy to me to ask for favors so...”
“I’ll stay,” he promised.
Three days later, Mr. Trenire arrived at Galleon House. He bowed deferentially to Madam, apologizing for his inability to reach St. Finbar earlier.
“Well, well,” Madam said impatiently. “You are here now. What have you to say?”
Andrea looked anxiously at Madam. She had been in a strange mood ever since early morning—irascible, difficult to please and quite evidently in a state of suspense. She had insisted on getting up to receive Mr. Trenire, despite the doctor’s advice that she should not, and now, as she sat erect at the head of the dining table, her ringed hands were tapping an impatient little tattoo.
She’ll collapse before the day is done if she isn’t careful, Simon thought.
Then Mr. Trenire began to speak.
“As you are aware, Madam, in view of his forthcoming marriage—” he shot an apologetic glance at Andrea. “—Mr. Leo felt it incumbent upon him to make a new will covering that eventuality. I drew up the necessary document, with which he professed himself perfectly satisfied. However, I pointed out that one contingency was not covered—his possible demise prior to his marriage. He delayed making a decision about that until the night before I left on holiday. Most regrettably, that clause is now the only operable one, and I propose reading it to you, leaving you to read the remainder of the will in detail if you so wish.” He cleared his throat and unfolded the paper he had held in his hands. “ ‘In the event of my death before my marriage, I leave everything of which I die possessed to my cousin, Simon Trevaine...’ ”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“But why, Madam?” Andrea demanded tempestuously. “Why should Leo have put Simon in my place?”
She was almost beside herself with humiliation and bewilderment. Her eyes blazed green and cat-like in a face that had not regained its color since Mr. Trenire had read out that incredible paragraph of Leo’s will.
Madam, back in her bed now, looked speculatively at the girl. It was a question that had to be answered, but was it wise, even now, to tell all the truth? Andrea, profoundly shocked by what Leo had done, was in no mood to appreciate the way his mind had worked. If she knew too much, too soon, she might easily wreck all his carefully laid plans.
“Did Leo ever promise that it would all be yours?” Madam asked, fencing for time.
“No,” Andrea admitted. “But surely I had every right to expect—”
“No,” Madam contradicted flatly. “Leo was free to do exactly as he chose. You had no right to take it for granted that you would be his heir.”
“I should have been—if Simon had never come here,” Andrea declared broodingly.
“Little fool! When did anyone ever influence Leo against his will? No, what Leo did, he did after due consideration.”
“Then you knew all about it! You should have told me!”
Madam hesitated. “I was not sure. Leo discussed it with me. I knew what he planned. But I did not know if he had carried out his intention. How could I say anything until Trenire came hack?”
“You should have done!” Andrea insisted bitterly, covering her face with her hands. “It was wicked—cruel—that the first I knew about it should be in front of Simon himself. I could have died with shame. To be passed over ... for a black stranger!”
“He is not a stranger,” Madam insisted wearily. “He is, in fact. Leo’s nearest male kin.”
“So that was it!” Andrea blazed. “I must be passed over because I’m a woman! Oh, it’s shameful! Utterly shameful! I, Leo’s promised wife—”
“Had you been his wife, there would doubtless have been a chil
d,” Madam retorted significantly. “And had it been a son, then everything would have been his, not yours.”
“Yes, but...”
But Madam was tired with all that had happened that day. She hated admitting her weakness, even to herself, but she could not stand much more.
“Finish your sentence, girl!” Madam snapped. “How many times have I told you not to speak until you know what you want to say! Well?”
“Will Simon be willing to live in England?” Andrea asked. “He loves New Zealand—”
“He will stay,” Madam said confidently. “Do you not remember him saying, soon after he arrived, that he had thought of selling! And do you not remember I told him that he would forget every other place he had ever known for this? That it would be the heart of all he held dear—it was as if I saw this happening,” she added musingly. “I had a conviction then—”
“That may be,” Andrea admitted, breaking another well established rule that she must never interrupt. “But there’s more to it than that, Madam. Simon will have to know the truth. Are you sure that he will be willing ... to do what Leo did?”
Madam leaned back against her pillows and regarded her through narrowed eyes.
“That,” she declared blandly, “rests with you!”
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