Teardrops in the Moon

by Crosse, Tania

  Marianne glanced up from buttering some toast to catch the look of trepidation that passed between Adam and Rebecca. A telegram. She supposed that when your daughter was married to a sea captain and you had both a son and grandson at sea, you must instantly think the worst. Marianne could see the fear on Rebecca’s face as she opened the telegram for Adam since it was something he couldn’t manage with his one hand. Adam searched in his breast pocket for his spectacles, but as soon as his eyes had scanned the print, his mouth widened into a smile.

  ‘It’s from Michael,’ he explained, his face brightening at the communication from his grandson. ‘They’ve docked in Plymouth several days ahead of schedule and he’s staying with Sarah and Misha. So he can make the party after all, if he’s still invited.’

  ‘Bless him, of course, he is!’ Rose exclaimed at once.

  ‘Then, if you’ll excuse me,’ Adam said, getting to his feet, ‘I’ll give the telegram boy a reply if he’s still waiting.’

  ‘Yes, he is, Captain,’ Patsy informed him.

  ‘Oh, that’s super news!’ Rose went on exuberantly. ‘And I expect you can’t wait to see your sister again either, Becky.’

  ‘No, I can’t. I haven’t seen Sarah since she and Misha came to stay with us at Christmas, so ’tis so kind of you to invite them as well.’

  ‘Not at all. The more the merrier for my big day.’

  ‘And I love to hear Uncle Misha talking about Russia,’ Marianne enthused, ‘even if they weren’t always happy times for him.’

  ‘Russia would be our ally against Austria-Hungary, of course, if the situation deteriorates.’

  ‘Oh, can’t you forget about that for the moment, Dad?’ Marianne demanded in exasperation. ‘It’s Mum’s birthday the day after tomorrow.’

  ‘And I think ’tis time you forgot about calling us aunt and uncle.’ Rebecca nodded her head emphatically. ‘You’re all adults now, and ’tis not as if we’re proper family anyway.’

  ‘Hmm. Adam and Becky.’ Marianne tried the names thoughtfully on her tongue. ‘All right. But it’ll take some getting used to. And I shall always love you both as much as if you were my real aunt and uncle.’ She jumped up to lace her arms about Rebecca’s shoulders and then, as she danced towards the door, surprised Adam with a peck on the cheek as he came back into the room. ‘I’ll go and find Hal. He’s helping Joe muck out the stables, I think. I’ll tell him he’s to call you Adam and Becky from now on, and the good news about Michael. It’ll be so nice to see him again. It must be five or six years since we saw him last.’

  With that, she flitted out of the room, purloining a slice of sausage from her father’s plate as she went and popping it into her rosebud mouth. Seth rolled his eyes, while Rose and Rebecca instantly burst into mirthful laughter. For Marianne was so very like her mother!

  ‘Isn’t this a wonderful day, Mum? And you look absolutely radiant!’

  Marianne held her mother at arms’ length. A new silk gown in shimmering purple fitted Rose’s slender waist to perfection and was trimmed about the heart-shaped neckline with fine, gauzy lace. Rose had wanted a fusion between a day frock and an evening dress for her garden party, and so was not sporting the high collar that most of her female guests were wearing. But when had her mother ever paid any heed to convention, Marianne asked herself? It was why Marianne loved her so much.

  ‘The amethyst goes perfectly with the dress, doesn’t it?’ she went on admiringly.

  ‘Always liked this necklace, haven’t you? Your father bought it for me when you were born, so I reckon I should leave it specifically to you in my Will.’

  ‘Oh, Mum, don’t talk about such things on a day like this. We’re supposed to be celebrating.’

  ‘And celebrate we shall! Come on. Let’s make sure everyone’s helping themselves to enough food and drink.’

  Marianne darted forward to mingle among their guests, only too pleased to put her more morose thoughts aside. There were so many people gathered under her mother’s magnetic wing, and Marianne knew most of them so well. The only person who appeared almost a stranger to her was young Michael Bradley, Adam and Rebecca’s grandson. He had come on the train from Plymouth the previous day with his great-aunt Sarah and great-uncle Misha, and Seth had driven to the station to collect them. When everyone had piled out of the car in front of the house, Marianne would never have recognized the tall, slightly built figure that stood back reservedly while the older adults greeted each other heartily. As they then moved towards the house, Marianne was left face-to-face with this apparently shy but stunningly handsome young gentleman. In no way did he resemble the awkward boy she recalled from so many years before. Back then, she already considered herself an adult while he was a mere child. But now. . . .

  Marianne couldn’t understand why her heart had suddenly started bouncing about in her chest in the most curious fashion, and she could not move her gaze from Michael’s face. Curls as raven dark as her own hair capped his well-shaped head, and a rogue lock fell impishly over his broad forehead. Eyes as black as coal but with a slight slant gave him the look of a gypsy, and yet his demeanour spoke of quiet sophistication. He held himself well, shoulders and back straight, waiting for the appropriate moment to speak.

  ‘Miss Marianne,’ he said at length.

  Marianne felt her heart give another thump. ‘Michael,’ she murmured in return, and then tossed her head in amazement. ‘Good heavens, I should never have recognized you.’

  ‘Have I changed so much?’ he answered with a wry smile. ‘I suppose I must have grown up a lot since we last met, but you look just as charming as I remember.’

  For some inexplicable reason, Marianne felt the need to rebel. ‘You were only fourteen or fifteen,’ she scoffed. ‘I hardly think you would have taken any notice of what I looked like.’

  ‘Oh, but I did.’ Michael gave an easy smile now, and Marianne considered that perhaps he was not as shy as she had initially thought. ‘When you’re that age and the only child among a group of adults, you notice a lot of things.’

  Marianne blinked at him, for a moment, taken aback. Yes, Michael was quiet, but she could imagine those sharp, shrewd eyes taking in everything about him. Not a bad asset, she supposed, if you wanted to captain a ship for a living, but she found it quite disconcerting. All at once she was anxious that she should look and act perfectly over the weekend if Michael was likely to be silently observing her all the while.

  ‘It’s a pity your mother and father couldn’t make it,’ she said, desperate to divert the conversation.

  ‘Yes. Dad should just have docked in Boston and much as she wanted to come, Mum’s in London looking after a good friend who’s unwell.’

  ‘I know. Pity, isn’t it? It’s lucky you have Sarah and Misha to stay with in Plymouth, though.’

  ‘Yes, and they spoil me something rotten. With no children of their own, they always treated Dad like a son and me as a grandson.’

  ‘That must be nice for you.’

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  Michael said no more, and thrown into some unwanted state of confusion, Marianne, to her annoyance, was tongue-tied, too. She was not sure if she was relieved or even more disorientated when the young man gave her that devastatingly handsome smile again, his strong teeth a white slash in his weather-browned face. It sent goosebumps down her spine, rooting her to the spot.

  ‘I’d better bring in the luggage,’ Michael said positively as if he had made a sudden, momentous decision.

  ‘I’ll help you.’ Marianne sprang forward, astounded that she was grateful the conversation had come to an end – she who could normally chatter for king and empire.

  ‘Goodness, it would be most remiss of me to allow a lady to carry anything.’

  ‘But I’m not just any lady,’ she retorted, and pushing past him, yanked the biggest suitcase from the back of the car. And yet why she had reac
ted so rudely, she really didn’t know.

  Michael’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline as he watched her carrying the heaviest item of luggage towards the house. ‘I’ll bring the rest in, then, shall I?’ he muttered under his breath, and picked up his own small case and his great-aunt’s feather-light hatbox.

  Being the three members of the younger generation present, Hal, Marianne and Michael were thrown together for the rest of the day. Brother and sister proudly showed their young guest around the stud-farm. Michael displayed an intelligent interest in the horses, and Marianne unexpectedly found herself delighting in exhibiting her equestrian prowess.

  ‘We’re breaking in a lovely colt at the minute. He’s going to make someone a super ride before too long. Would you like to come and watch?’

  ‘I’d be fascinated,’ Michael grinned back. ‘Only don’t ask me to come too close. I’ve never been too confident around horses.’

  Marianne’s spirits soared. Michael was admiring her and she was wallowing in it. Not because she was showing off – she had always taken her skills for granted – but because she . . . she wanted Michael to be attracted to her.

  ‘How do you get around when you’re on shore, then?’ she asked him.

  ‘I hire a cab. Or I drive my father’s car if I’m at home.’

  Marianne pulled a grimace. ‘He trusts you to do that, then? You lucky thing! I’m desperate to drive, but the Napier’s actually Hal’s here, and he won’t let me,’ she pouted, throwing a disgruntled scowl at her brother. ‘You’d think if I can break and train a horse, I could be trusted to drive a car. It can’t be that difficult.’

  Hal threw up his head with a laugh. ‘But if you crashed it, a motorcar’s a pretty expensive thing to repair, and you could be badly injured. No, you stick to horses. You’d never injure one of them, and you never come off and hurt yourself.’

  Marianne glared at Hal, annoyed by his backhanded compliment. And, of course, no one knew that she had been thrown just a week or so earlier when Pegasus had reared away from the adder. She must hide the colour that flared into her cheeks and turn Hal’s comments to her advantage.

  ‘Praise indeed from my brother who’s such a brilliant horseman himself,’ she said with jovial, mock sarcasm, and was thrilled when Michael chuckled at her little quip.

  That evening, Marianne found herself taking great care when dressing for dinner. Normally she would merely tie back her riot of black hair in a ribbon and throw on the first thing to hand in her wardrobe that wasn’t a riding habit. But now she picked out a dress of floating pink and grey muslin that gave her a distinctly feminine air, and carefully piled her tresses on the top of her head. She considered her reflection in the mirror, smoothing down the bodice of the dress over her tiny waist. Goodness, she was the image of her mother in the stunning portrait her father had commissioned many years ago by a Mr Tilling, an artist Rose was acquainted with in London. The painting hung in the drawing room, mesmerizing everyone who ever gazed at it, but for the first time in her life, Marianne was overjoyed that she might match her mother’s beauty.

  And why was that?

  She frowned, chewing on her bottom lip. She wasn’t succumbing to the charms of the polite, striking young man staying in one of the rooms along the landing, was she? Her thoughts went back to that distant day when Philip had announced that he and Kate were getting married because she was pregnant, and Marianne had taken a silent vow never to fall in love. She had kept faithful to that vow all these years. She was nearly twenty-five now and possibly in danger of being left on the shelf. Not that the idea bothered her in the slightest. But she had to admit that Michael Bradley had set her heart a-flutter in a way she had never experienced before. He was all but five years younger than her, but did that matter? When his father, Toby, had married Chantal Pencarrow, she had been several years his senior. And another marriage between these families who were all such good friends couldn’t be bad, could it?

  Marriage! What on earth was she thinking of? She hardly knew Michael, but her heart began to race at the thought that her mother was bound to seat her and Hal by their young visitor at the dinner table.

  She was not disappointed. And she found herself shining like a star, leading witty conversation, asking Michael about his training and his travels, and admiring all the tales he related of the places his burgeoning career had taken him to. His great-grandfather had been a wine and spirits merchant in London, a business Grandfather Adam had continued for some years, even though he was slowly building up his small fleet of ships. Adam had eventually sold the business in favour of developing the shipping company further with his stepson Toby’s assistance, as the young man followed in his footsteps as a sea captain. It had put Michael in a privileged position of course, but his eyes sparkled as he spoke of the sea, and it was clear to Marianne that he was as enthusiastic about his career as were his father and grandfather before him.

  ‘What about the Herefordshire estate?’ Marianne enquired, wanting a reason to keep looking into those lively, shrewd eyes. ‘Did that never interest you?’

  ‘Not really. Of course, it’s my family home and it’s always a delight to go back there between voyages or my stints at college. But Uncle James always loved running the estate for Grandad. No. I’ve never wanted to do anything other than master a ship.’

  ‘I know how you feel,’ Marianne told him with an empathetic bob of her head. ‘I’ve never wanted to do anything other than breed and train horses. Except for driving a motorcar!’ she declared, shooting a meaningful glance at Hal, which to her glee, made Michael chuckle aloud.

  She went to bed that night floating on a cloud, and dreamt only of a handsome young man with dark hair and eyes, and a smile that made her heart flip over. In the morning, she hurried downstairs, anxious to see him again and assure herself he was not just a figment of her imagination. But he was real, and her heart sang as she busied herself in the kitchen and with helping to carry out onto the terrace all the sumptuous savoury dishes, cakes and desserts that had been prepared for the celebration. But she took advantage of every opportunity to speak to Michael and flash him her most dazzling smile as he helped to set up the tables and carry chairs and parasols outside.

  It was a pleasant day, Sunday 28th June 1914. When all was ready, Marianne charged upstairs to change into the outfit she had chosen for the occasion, once again praying that Michael would find it appealing. The other guests began to arrive, and Marianne felt she could fly with excitement as they congregated on the drive in front of the house.

  ‘Kate!’ she cried as her beloved sister hopped down from the horse and wagonette in which the Pencarrow family had driven up from Rosebank Hall.

  ‘Marianne!’ Kate hugged her tightly. ‘I’m so looking forward to today. I expect you’ve all been busy preparing a fantastic spread!’

  ‘Yes, Patsy’s done us proud, and we’ve all helped as well. But we’ll all be like giant dumplings by the end of today if we eat everything that’s on the tables!’

  ‘There’s going to be plenty of people to eat it all, though, isn’t there? Oh, isn’t this fun? So lovely to have everyone together. Oh, Mum! Happy birthday!’ Kate called, running over to Rose as she emerged through the double front door.

  ‘How are you, Philip?’ Marianne turned to her brother-in-law, giving him a kiss on the cheek. ‘Richard and Beth, how lovely to see you again!’ she addressed his parents with a warm smile. ‘Adam and Becky have told us to stop calling them auntie and uncle, so I hope that’s all right with you, too?’

  She saw the elderly couple exchange bemused glances and then Beth beamed her homely smile. ‘But, of course! Now, where’s your mother? I do so want to wish her a happy birthday. Ah, there she is. Rose!’

  Marianne realized that in their enthusiasm, the family had left young Adam standing alone. Children weren’t really Marianne’s cup of tea, but the boy looked so overwhelmed that she we
nt over and smiled down at him.

  ‘Shall we put your lovely horse in one of our stables? It’s a she, isn’t it?’ This said ducking down in a most unladylike way to glance under the animal’s belly. ‘She must be tired and thirsty after that long journey and all uphill.’

  Little Adam nodded and to Marianne’s surprise, apprehensively placed his hand in hers. Well, she was his auntie, she supposed, but she had never had much to do with him, at least not in the last couple of years. Whenever she rode over to visit her sister, she would always say goodbye to Kate outside the village school and leave her to wait for her son alone. Now, Marianne felt almost as nervous as the child himself, but his hand felt so small and vulnerable in hers that it triggered some instinct to look after him.

  ‘What’s her name?’ she asked, clicking her tongue and leading the mare around the side of the house towards the stable yard.

  ‘Clomper. Because she clomps along,’ the child told her solemnly.

  Marianne could not help but smile at little Adam’s serious face. She brought Clomper to a stop and then began to unharness her from between the shafts. Adam at once began to help with practised hands, and Marianne tipped her head. Kate was definitely not into horses and Philip was a reluctant farmer, so young Adam must take after his grandfather, Richard, he seemed so adept and at home around the big mare.

  ‘Aw, Marianne, let me do that!’ Joe hurried up to them. ‘Ruin that there beautiful outfit, you will.’

  Oh. Marianne pulled herself up short. Yes, she supposed she should be acting the lady today. And she didn’t want to spoil her dress with Michael around, did she?

  ‘Shall we let Joe look after Clomper?’ she found herself asking Adam. ‘Thanks, Joe.’

  ‘Only doing my job,’ the groom grinned back.

  As Joe took over, Marianne gazed down into Adam’s earnest little face. Goodness, what next? She trawled her brain for an answer, but to her own astonishment, found the solution in seconds.