Beloved Intruder

by Patricia Wilson

  The car finally climbed for a long time through wooded hills where the flowers of summer were dotted beneath the trees, and when they finally pulled off the road, Beth found that they were parked on a high mound of a hill that overlooked a beautiful valley.

  'It's lovely!' Beth exclaimed, getting out of the car and stretching like a cat, her slender arms above her head. 'Look! There's a river far away down there!'

  'It is the Seine,' Gaetan told her. 'I used to come here long ago.'

  'Oh! Well, I hardly thought that you had found this place by chance,' Beth said with a little smile, her mind going back to the days when he was married, the thought of him here with his wife taking some of the happiness from her face.

  'I have never before brought anyone here,' he said softly, reaching into the boot for the basket. 'I like to think that this is my place alone.'

  'Oh! I'm very honoured, then. Thank you!' Beth felt a rush of happiness and the feeling brightened her eyes, making her face glow, a fact that apparently he did not miss.

  'You are—good to be with,' he said softly, looking at her for a moment. 'It is true that sometimes we fight. But when you are not battling with me, you are very tranquil and restful and I am content.'

  'So am I,' Beth confessed, her face suddenly rosy with happiness and shyness.

  'Eh bien! Then you may open the basket and serve lunch to your lord and master!' he announced, spreading a car rug and flinging himself on to it. 'I have done the driving. You can serve the lunch. It is all because of this "Women's Lib". Without it I might have been tempted to wait on you. Begin!'

  It was a wonderful day. They ate and talked and sat for lengthy periods in silence listening to the breeze in the tall trees, the humming of insects and the faraway noises on the distant farms. To Beth it was heaven and she felt that she must do everything quietly, almost in stealth, in case this beautiful time should be in any way spoiled. She packed the remains of the lunch into the basket later as Gaetan sat smoking, his back against the sturdy base of a tree, and she glanced up with a smile as she felt him watching her. There was a very strange look in his eyes, but it was a look that did not in any way alarm her, and she looked back at him questioningly, saying nothing.

  'I was thinking,' he said in answer to her unspoken question. 'I was thinking that you look—happy.'

  'I am,' she assured him with a smile, getting on with the task she had begun, her slender and graceful hands neatly fitting things into place.

  'Why are you happy?' he probed quietly.

  'I don't know!' She looked up in surprise. 'Does it matter?'

  'It does if I am to make sure that the happiness continues,' he stated simply.

  'Does that matter either?' Beth asked, her heart beginning to take on a new and frightening rhythm.

  'Perhaps. I would not wish you to remember your time with me as being a time of sadness after all. I know too that the age of twenty is fast creeping up on you. There will be then only one year left of— imprisonment. It is even less when you say it in months somehow. Twelve months and you will be free, rich, and on your own at last with nothing and nobody to stop you doing anything you want. You will be able to study or be idle, stay out all night, marry and have children if the mood takes you. You are looking forward to it?'

  She sat back on her heels and looked at him with the same wide-eyed look in her clear grey eyes that he had somehow wished to avoid when he had first seen her. Sometimes she answered instantly when he questioned her, appearing to give no thought to her answers. Sometimes, though, she considered deeply any reply and the answers when they came then were the words of a person who had matured long before her time, a person who had wisdom beyond her years, and these answers left him always shaken and oddly bereft, wishing he had kept silent.

  'I shall miss Paris and the things that I've learned here. I shall miss the laughter, the sights and smells, the flowers, the river, many little things.'

  She looked away across the fields and woods to the shining strand of the river that wound like a ribbon of silver towards the distant sea. 'I shall miss you too,' she finished softly.

  'Paris will always be here,' he said in a tight voice. 'So will I.'

  'But I will be—elsewhere,' she said with a soft finality.

  'You could stay here, Beth. There is a home for you here, always!' he reminded her deeply, but she shook her head and did not look up again.

  'I think not. You've been good to me and I will always be grateful, and of course, I'll keep in touch with you, but I can't stay forever. I have my own country and I have to get back to a way of life there. Maybe I'll not even start university here. It seems quite pointless when there's only twelve months as you pointed out. Maybe I'll try to get into Cambridge. My Uncle John went there.'

  She was trying really hard to let him see that he need not fear that he would be responsible for her for ever, but he took it very badly.

  'I've spoiled your afternoon with my stupid questions!' he said savagely, getting to his feet and throwing the cigar as far as he could to ease the sudden fury that he felt with himself.

  'No!' She knelt where she had been, her clear eyes looking up at him. 'It was something that had to be said. I've thought about it often, actually, but I didn't realise that it would have ever been in your mind.'

  'Why, for God's sake?' he snapped and then sighed loudly, his hand running through his hair. 'No! Don't answer that! We shall only get into another of those question-and-answer situations and then it will be even worse.'

  'There's nothing to be worse about, everything is perfectly splendid!' said Beth with a laugh, her gaiety forcing a smile to his stern face.

  'Stop it!' he growled. 'You sound like my old nanny. Get up! I shall now show you another secret place, although I haven't decided yet if you deserve such a treat.'

  He pulled her to her feet, keeping her hand in his, and she was grateful to be spared any more interrogations. It had taken all her courage to be light-hearted and to say that she would leave Paris and Gaetan. The truth was that she never wanted to leave, and she had known that for days and days, weeks even. She blinked back the tears that were threatening and practised a smile in case he should turn to look at her.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The secret place was approached through thickly growing bushes, and it looked as if nobody had been here for years; Gaetan said that they probably had not as it was so far off the beaten track. He had to fight his way forward in some places, but apparently he was determined, and her burst of unhappiness eased as she struggled behind him, wishing mightily that she had come in jeans to face this assault-course.

  They finally broke through into a clear area and rising in front of them was an old stone tower, crumbling in places but still sturdy-looking and very high.

  'What is it?' Beth asked, the old unease rising inside her as she looked up at the tall building that seemed to be trying to touch the sky.

  'It was once part of a castle,' Gaetan informed her, his voice as pleased as a boy's to be showing her this. 'I've never been able to find out much about it but I used to spend hours here, and it is certainly the one remaining keep of a very large castle that overlooked this valley. Come inside.' He tugged on her hand, feeling her reluctance but not looking round at her. 'It's quite safe. If it had not been I would not have brought you here.' If he had looked round he would have seen her suddenly pale face, but he was too intent on sharing his treasure with her and he moved inside, taking her with him, assuming her reluctance to be something other than what it really was.

  But it was dry and secure inside the tower, the only sign of the outdoors the occasional slits in the walls, and Beth's fears subsided as her interest grew.

  'It is quite possible that this is one of the remaining keeps of a castle of the Knights Templar,' Gaetan told her, his face intrigued as they both looked up at the walls. 'They were welcomed in France for a time after they left the Holy Land, but as they always seemed to shroud themselves in mystery it would take a great deal
of dedication to track them down.'

  'Are you interested?' Beth asked, lowering her voice to accommodate the silence.

  'Yes,' he whispered back, grinning at her in the semi-darkness. 'The floors are still intact,' he continued, using a normal voice now, 'and you can see where the fires used to be. Come and look!'

  Somehow, Beth found herself climbing the stone steps cut into the walls. In places they had to bend double, and it might have been the concentration of this that kept her mind totally off the fact that they were steadily climbing upwards.

  Then Beth's world dissolved into panic and nightmare. They stepped out on to the battlements, low and sturdy, it was true, but no barrier to her fright. The farms and distant river now looked like so many toys, each path leading down the hills clearly defined and seemingly miles below them, and the nightmare had only begun. As always she was drawn to the terror, her steps dragging but constant, her eyes glazed with fear as she saw herself falling and falling, turning over and over in the air to go on without end, downwards to her death.

  'Beth!' She swayed dizzily and Gaetan's sharp call came in time to halt her as she neared the edge of the low wall, his hand on her arm gripping tightly. 'Mon Dieu! What are you doing?' He spun her round to face him and his words died for a second in his throat. 'You are faint?' he questioned fiercely, holding tightly to her, but her speech centres were frozen as usual and her eyes did not see him clearly, all her body was stiff with shock, paralysed into rigidity.

  'Vertigo! Dieu!' He pulled her to him and held tightly to her for a few seconds and then carefully and steadily, talking to her all the time, he edged her towards the stairs, backing down in front of her, shutting out the sight of any drop, his hands on her hips hard and warm, pulling gently, forcing her locked limbs to respond as they steadily retraced their steps to the bottom room.

  She began to shake then, quivering like someone with a fever, her skin cold with shock, and he pulled her into his arms, rocking her against him, murmuring soothing words that he knew she could not really hear, until finally she leaned against him, weak and trembling but back to her normal self, out of the frightened rigidity that had gripped her.

  He swung her up into strong arms and strode outside then, forcing his way back towards the car, not listening to her weak little pleas.

  'Put me down, Gaetan. I can walk. It's too difficult here.' He did not answer and she went on pleadingly. 'Please!'

  'No! Let me hold you! Turn your face against my shoulder in case any of the thorns cut you.' He would not listen so she did as he said, her arms clinging to his neck, her face hidden against him until they were once again by the car, the keep well out of sight behind the tall and thickly wooded slope.

  With obvious reluctance he let her feet touch the ground, but held her tightly still, his fury with himself very evident.

  'Today will be a day to remember,' he rasped harshly. 'I have spoiled your happiness with my stupid questions and then I have almost led you to your death!'

  'No! It—it's been a beautiful day!' she choked, the tears flowing down her face now that the last stages of her shock were upon her. 'I've loved it!'

  'You are an idiot!' he said thickly, sitting once again with his back to the trees and taking her with him. 'I have always suspected it. Come here!'

  He pulled her into the circle of his arms and she came willingly, a little sigh escaping her as she rested against the hard power of his chest, feeling his head come close as he rested his face against her hair.

  'Why did you not tell me, Beth?' he asked in an anguished voice. 'Why did you allow me to drag you up there when one little word would have saved all this?'

  'It's hard to explain,' she sighed. 'You'll think I'm even more of an idiot when I tell you that I almost forgot. Outside, looking up, I know very well what will happen and nothing would then make me face the height. But it was dark in there, safe, almost cosy, and I never even thought of what would happen when we stepped out into the daylight. I didn't even realise that we would be stepping out. Suddenly, we were there and it was too late.'

  'You could have yelled out to me, straight away before it caught you too badly. You could have let me know!' he protested quietly but she buried her face into his shirt and shook her head.

  'I try not to tell anyone,' she confessed in a mere whisper, 'but I'm glad that you know now.'

  'I should think so too!' he grunted crossly, tightening his arms around her. 'And now that I know, let's have it all. Tell me how long this has been going on and what has been done about it at this splendid school you attended.'

  'It started soon after my parents were killed in the air-crash,' she said, trying to sit up and being firmly pulled back against him. 'I'm too imaginative, or so they say. To me it wasn't just an air-crash, it was people flying into the air, falling down with nothing to help them. To me my parents didn't die in the plane, they simply fell, and I've never been able to go anywhere high since then, even though now I know better.'

  'Ah, then that is why you said so stubbornly that you would not fly to Paris when I came and captured you,' he said, tilting her face and smoothing her last tears away with his gentle fingers. He suddenly stilled as a thought came to him. 'It is also why you refused to go with me to Rome and Madrid.'

  'Yes.' She looked away from his brilliant gaze. 'I— I wanted to but…'

  'And I thought that you hated the sight of me,' he said softly, laughter back in his voice. 'You are too secretive, ma petite, too secretive by far. Never mind though, I will take you to Paul and he will recommend someone who will sort you out in no time at all.'

  'No!' She sprang away from him and on to her feet before he could stop her. 'No! I'll see nobody! I've had enough of prying into my life, into my mind!'

  He got to his feet and came to stand behind her, reaching for her shoulders, now tense and unyielding, pulling her back against him even though she was reluctant to come.

  'I think that there is more that I should know, even at the risk of being accused of prying into your mind and your life,' he insisted quietly. 'Sit down again, Beth, and tell me who has pried and what they decided after their prying.'

  She sank obediently to the ground and this time he did not touch her, instead he sat down away from her where he could see her face and she curled her legs round her and leaned on her hand, staring down into the valley that now held no fears.

  'Naturally, when they found out that I had such severe vertigo the school called Uncle John and tried to do something about it,' she began and then she turned urgently to him, her eyes pleading. 'Do you know what it's like to be different, Gaetan? Do you know what it's like to be slightly at the side of the world and not quite in it? I was an orphan, I was rich in my own right even before Uncle John left me more. I was very clever without any real effort and I had a—a disease!'

  'It is not a disease!' he snapped, fixing her with a firm stare. 'It is a phobia!'

  'Phobia, disease, what does it matter,' she said bitterly. 'I had psychiatrists, long talk sessions, endless reports. If I had been going home afterwards, even to Uncle John, maybe it would have felt different. I simply went to my room, though, with nobody there to talk things over with me.' She sighed deeply. 'I only wanted to be normal!'

  'You are normal,' Gaetan said quietly. 'There must be plenty of girls even now in schools dotted around England who are without parents and who have difficulties. Anyway, you are just very, very special.'

  'I've no desire to be special!' she snapped, her face angry. 'And I will not see anyone about this vertigo. Let it rest, Gaetan. Just leave me as I am.' She stared into his eyes until he seemed to be drowning in her silvery gaze and his lips tightened as he stood and pulled her also to her feet.

  'All right! You are entitled to do whatever you wish about your problems. Just see that you do not again seek danger. Then it becomes my problem. I have problems enough.' He turned to the car and opened the door. 'Let's go home.'

  'Is—is that all you're going to say?' she asked, re
alising that she had angered him but not quite sure how.

  'Why, yes! What more is there to say? You have made a decision and I can see the reason for it. I can also understand your fear both of heights and of prying people. Many people have problems, and often they are simply ironed out in the normal and natural surroundings as time goes on. You did not have normal surroundings because you had nobody to turn to, those who would have helped were shut out of your life by your own wishes. When you decide to return to this world, no doubt there will be somebody waiting to take up your burden and sort it out for you. Clearly that person is not me. Another decision you have made for yourself.'

  'You always misunderstand me!' Beth said, turning away from the car and staring out across the fields. 'Sometimes you seem to do it deliberately.'

  'That is not true,' he said sharply, turning her round and urging her towards the car, closing the door firmly behind her and gathering the remaining things into the boot. 'When it is your birthday next week I intend to give a dinner party,' he said, continuing as if this were the real point at issue and clearly deciding that anything else was not now to be discussed further. 'It will give you the chance to act as my hostess, as befits your position in my life, and also it will be a good way of celebrating your birthday.'

  'What?' She turned to look at him with wide-open eyes. 'What are you doing? Humouring me as if I were a madwoman?'

  'No, I suppose that you did realise that it is your birthday next week?'

  'I suppose so,' she said indifferently. 'Birthdays are something that I've never bothered with.'

  'That is because it is not up to the birthday person to bother about it. Other people normally tend to insist upon that kind of celebration, and I insist. From now on you will have a birthday just like anyone else and please do not bother to argue. After this there will be one more only and then you can return to your normal indifference.'