The Girl From Over the Sea

by Valerie K. Nelson

  ‘Yes, there’s a lovely moon,’ Lesley agreed.

  ‘That Harvest Thanksgiving is a service I dew like, and started first round about these parts, or so they dew say. Then come Monday, t’will be Harvest supper and dance. Perhaps you’ll bring that young man o’ you’m this time.’

  Lesley shook her head. ‘He isn’t my young man, Mrs. Piper. He’s just an old friend. He’s going up to Scotland to see some of his relatives and then he’s off back to Australia.’

  ‘Well, better chanst for them as is down here,’ remarked Mrs. Piper obscurely.

  As had become customary Lesley spent a sleepless night, her thoughts very much on Steve’s revelations of Blake’s plans for the twins. So far as Ricky was concerned, they caused her no surprise. The group with Tim Drage in charge were moving to London in October and Lesley had already sadly accepted the fact that Rick would go with them.

  And as to Rita and herself, Blake had evidently decided they were to go back over the sea. He had informed Rita, but as yet, no word to her. It was as if these days they were unable to communicate at all.

  He was still working himself and her at a savage pace. Bookings at the hotel continued high and true to Mrs. Piper’s forecast the autumn weather was perfect. Misty mornings sometimes, but followed by days as warm as in July,

  Blake spent very little time in recreation. Once or twice when she got up early because she couldn’t sleep, Lesley would see him riding on the beach, deserted at that hour. It was too early for Sorrel to be with him, and Lesley’ would stand well hidden at the top of the cliffs watching the raking stride of the mare and the man who sat her so perfectly.

  He had not mentioned again that night of the Revel dance and she concluded that he still believed she had returned with Dominic at dawn. On the day after she had dined with Steve he had come to the Reception Desk and said, ‘I hope everything was satisfactory last night, Miss Trevendone.’ She had met for a moment his ironic glance and then her attention had seemed fixed on something far above his head.

  ‘It was a lovely meal and the service was excellent,’ she said in a colourless voice.

  ‘And now the surfing and life-saving is over!’ It was a comment rather than a question, and more Irony, she thought, but again her voice was colourless.

  ‘Steve leaves for Scotland today. His father’s people came from there and he has several relatives to look up.’

  ‘Romantic, isn’t it,’ he smiled, ‘to come from over the sea to look up one’s own people. To find ... who knows what?’ One dark eyebrow was raised and his mouth was curved in mockery. Did he guess that one girl who had come over the sea had found only ... heartbreak?

  There was that constricted feeling in her throat again and she was conscious as so often these days of the unending battle between herself and Blake.

  The Harvest Festival weekend came and went, with a misty Sunday morning but brilliant sunshine by the time she and Miss Piper and Ricky and Rita drove in her mini to the morning service. The lovely little church was beautifully decorated with flower arrangements of sophisticated design and the simpler tributes of fruit and vegetables.

  Second from the front were the Trevendone pews, one on either side of the aisle. The twins and Mrs. Piper and Lesley sat on one side, while on the other were old Mrs. Trevendone and her companion, Dominic and Sorrel. Jennifer, glowing like a rose, sat with Rod Drew and his family just behind. And then at the last minute, Blake Defontaine himself came in, sliding into the end of the pew next to Lesley.

  She kept her eyes averted, trying to still her stupidly racing heart, How he would laugh if he knew that she couldn’t sing the beautiful hymns herself because she was listening to him.

  So far as the Harvest supper dance was concerned, Lesley hadn’t the slightest intention of repeating her experience of the Revel dance, and it was with heartfelt relief that she found Rod was starting over Monday and Jennifer was anxious to go to the dance with him.

  ‘Of course I’ll do the reception desk duty, Jen,’ Lesley said warmly. ‘Go and have a lovely time.’ She saw Jen and Dominic and this time even Rita set off. Mrs. Piper was sad about her not coming but promised to return home with a full account of all the happenings—something Lesley wasn’t at all anxious to hear. To her surprise, however, she saw Blake come out of the dining room with the two men who she suspected were interested in taking over the hotel. He would be seeing them on their way, she supposed, and then joining Sorrell at the dance. Once again, poor Dominic would be left in the lurch, and this time no little Yseult to play second fiddle.

  Mrs. Piper had returned home early and was waiting to ask Lesley to have a cup of tea with her in the kitchen when she came off duty.

  ‘Too crowded,’ was her verdict. Harvest supper was always popular, and with the good weather there were still a lot of visitors crowding in too.

  Miss Rita seemed to have had a good time, but she had come home earlyish too and had already gone to bed. Lesley raised her eyebrows at that news. Sir Dominic and Mrs. Lang had danced together a lot, and then gone on somewhere else. Mr. Defontaine? Well, that was an odd thing, but Mrs. Piper had never seen a sign of him tonight.

  Lesley was wondering about that as she went upstairs. Rita seemed to be already asleep, so the older girl got undressed quietly and crept into bed, but not to sleep. Blake must have taken those men down to the Lodge to go talking business. How furious Sorrel would be! She had had to make do with Dominic all the evening—poor Dominic.

  Lesley thought rebelliously, Blake has made his plans, it seems, to send me back to Australia. Sorrel wants to keep Dominic as a second string. Suppose I confound them both? I could do it if I wanted. I could take Dominic and hold him. I could make him love me. In his own way, he is so lovable ... my dear, dear Tristan.

  Life with Dominic would always be gay. One would never need to plumb the depths, but then you would never reach the heights. You could always mould him to your own way of thinking. Her gallant Tristan. In a way even, they could have a romantic love life.

  How different would life be with a man whose harsh corners could wound a woman to the very heart of her. There would be no moulding him to any woman’s will. He would always be dominant, ruthless even perhaps, though he loved her.

  Lesley turned restlessly. How soon would it be morning?

  This particular morning she was working in Blake’s office—Still working against time. She hadn’t seen him as yet and thought he must be over at the hotel. That was why it was a surprise to see Sorrel. The dark girl’s face had a particularly vindictive look.

  ‘You impudent impostor! I suspected it right from the beginning,’ she burst out. ‘If it’s left to me you’ll be put in charge for false pretences!’

  Lesley gave her a quick look from her long dark lashes and then bent again to the page she was checking. ‘I’m very busy, Mrs. Lang. If you’re looking for Mr. Defontaine, I think he’s probably over at the new Manor.’

  ‘Don’t try to talk yourself out of it, you impudent slut! Young Rita let the cat out of the bag last night. She didn’t mean to—it was just a slip, but I noticed it, though luckily for you no one else did.’

  ‘Mrs. Lang,’ Lesley said deliberately, ‘I think you know as well as I do that Mr. Defontaine is determined that this work shall be finished by the beginning of October. It won’t be if I’m taken off it ... or if I’m continually interrupted.’

  ‘Blackmail! It’s just what I might have expected of you,’ Sorrel’s dark face was still furious, but there was a calculating look in her eyes. It was obvious that Lesley had struck the right chord.

  ‘All right,’ she said, pacing about the office, one clenched fist beating into the other open palm. ‘I’ll keep quiet about it and not mention it to Blake, but on one condition—that you leave here the day the hotel closes. Blake isn’t the sort to Stand for the deception you’ve practised on all of us. He’ll be out for your blood once he knows, so for your own sake pack up and don’t let either Blake or Dominic know you’re
going. Understand?’

  ‘I don’t suppose Dominic would mind. He’d only laugh,’ Lesley couldn’t resist the thrust.

  ‘Don’t dare to inveigle Dominic. I’ve told you before that Tristan and Yseult caper isn’t on. Get back to Australia to your precious Steve. Blake is sending Rita back so you can go together.’

  ‘How kind of him,’ drawled Lesley tantalisingly, ‘but I might want to stay.’

  ‘If you attempt to stay I’ll see you go to jail,’ Sorrel threatened wildly, and rushed out of the room. Something had upset her, and Lesley didn’t really think it was because she had discovered that Lesley Trevendone was really Lesley Arden.

  ‘Les, I didn’t mean to tell her,’ Rita was sobbing stormily.

  ‘It just sort of slipped out, and she latched on to it and got me into a corner. I wouldn’t say any more, but she said she could guess. Don’t tell Rick, will you? He’ll never forgive me.’

  Lesley shook her head and Rita went on, ‘Sorrel and Dominic were quarrelling. I think she was upset because Blake didn’t come to the dance and because he sat next to you in church on Sunday. Dominic said he wished you had come because you’d both had a smashing time at the Revel dance. But they made it up afterwards.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Lesley thoughtfully. ‘They always do.’

  ‘Les, they won’t put you in prison or anything, will they, like she said? She won’t tell Blake, she promised, as long as you leave the very day the hotel closes.’

  ‘Well, why not?’ Lesley asked calmly. ‘There’ll be no need for us to stay any longer. We want to go to London and see Ricky settled there. Then we can go back to Australia, you and I. I hear Blake has made arrangements to cover your passage back.’

  Rita shifted from one foot to the other uneasily. ‘I feel awful about that too, Les, but he told Ricky and me not to mention it to you. He said you’d enough on your mind with all this work you’re doing for the hotel and for him. He said he’d got arrangements lined up for you too. But,’ she added doubtfully,’ that was because he thought you too were a Trevendone. If Sorrel splits, it may be different.’

  Lesley’s green eyes were brilliant. ‘It won’t be in the least different, darling. Blake Defontaine will be making no arrangements for me once I’ve finished working here. Ho won’t be my slave-master any longer.’

  ‘Don’t call him that, Les,’ Rita pleaded. ‘I’m ashamed I ever thought of the name. Rick and I have both realised how mistaken we were about him. We both wish you could alter your mind too.’

  Lesley smiled rather oddly. How long ago was it that she had realised that the first look he had taken at her on a February night of snow and sleet had dealt a glancing blow at her heart—a blow from which she had never recovered. ‘No, I haven’t altered my mind, and I don’t suppose I ever shall ... now.’

  CHAPTER XI

  Only a day or two now. Lesley relaxed in a warm bath and then with her thin dressing gown slung around her she went into the bedroom. As she was having an early night would it be a good idea to do some packing? Rita was down at’ Penpethic Harbour with Ricky, so she had the room to herself.

  Downstairs, she had just had a cup of tea with Mrs. Piper who had been telling her about the fairy ring on the downs opposite the. Kissing Seat. Jennifer, drinking tea too, had laughed, ‘You and your Cornish superstitions, Mrs. Piper! You’ll make Lesley think we’re still living in the Middle Ages.’ She’d said to Lesley, ‘It’s just a dark green fungus growing in a circle round an area of grass. Don’t believe a word about the piskies dancing round it.’

  But when she had gone, Mrs. Piper had shaken her head.

  ‘She can say what she likes, Miss Lesley, but them circles is made by the piskies—fairies you call un—dancing round’ And they dew say if you’m be foolish enough to go out in the moonlight and see un, they’ll dance you away wi’ un and you’ll not be seen for a hundred years.’

  Lesley laughed. ‘Moral is to keep away from the fairy ring, especially in the moonlight.’

  No, she was too tired to do any packing. She slid into bed and almost immediately she was asleep. Too good to last! Lesley hadn’t slept well for a long time. Perhaps that was why those violet shadows were always under her heavy eyes.

  What had wakened her? Rita creeping in quietly. But Rita didn’t usually creep anywhere. She blew in like one of the gales that sprang up over the turquoise seas here, lashing them into pewter cauldrons.

  Lesley had been heavy with sleep an hour ago, but now she felt wide awake. She slid out of bed and went to the small window on her side of the room, its casement flung wide to get as much air as possible. The low roar of the surf came into the room like the giant breathing of a huge sea monster.

  As she turned her head slightly, Lesley gave a little gasp. The moon was coming up over the garden. It must be almost full. It was pale orange in colour and so very, very large. She gave a nervous little laugh. Her first crazy idea was that something had gone wrong with the moon, as if it had moved much too close to earth. But it was because it was only just above the horizon that it seemed so big. Mrs. Piper had said this was called the hunter’s moon, and now Lesley remembered that she had heard Dominic making an appointment with someone to go shooting next week.

  The hunter’s moon—a full moon or near enough—and there was that fairy ring on the downs. If you were ever likely to see the fairies dancing it would be at the time of the full moon.

  The idea was too much for Lesley to stay any longer in this stuffy little room. Even if she saw no fairies, at least she could breathe some sea air and walk in the moonlight. A sense of the ridiculous shook her for a moment. If you were a fool—and where could you find a bigger one than Lesley Arden—then you might as well go the whole hog and be a real fool. Go out alone in the moonlight and dance round the fairy ring, and if by chance the piskies came and stole you away for the next hundred years, then so much the better. After a hundred years surely this bitter pain in her heart would have vanished completely.

  Of course she ought to have known that she was asking for more heartbreak. After all, it was a night for lovers.

  The house was very quiet. Jennifer was in her own room asleep, no doubt dreaming of her wedding at Christmas when Rod came home from Switzerland for good. .Dominic, Rita and Rick were still out because it was not very late.

  She pulled on jeans and a thin sweater, stepped into her walking sandals and went quietly downstairs and out of the front door. She went quickly across the garden, paused for a moment by the Kissing Trees, and then when the pain in her heart was more than seemed humanly possible, to bear she went through the gate.

  The fairy ring was there, but no piskies, and it was doubtful if Lesley would have seen them had they been there. She was walking blindly, quickly, running away from herself and from her memories ... memory of a kiss under those trees, memory that tonight she had typed the last of Blake’s manuscript. Her work for the slave-master was finished.

  Tomorrow all she need do was to go into the little office and tidy up the desk. At the end of the week the last guests would be leaving and the hotel would be closed. And the girl from over the sea could go back from whence she had come,

  Blake had been away all day. Dominic had whispered to her that he was sure he was making the final arrangements for the transfer of the two Manors to a hotel consortium in which the Trevendones would have shares, but no one else spoke of it.

  Lesley had walked—run, rather—so swiftly in her efforts to escape her own thoughts that she had come to where the downs overhung the little harbour of St Benga Town. The tide was low and the beach stretched away in lonely moonlit beauty—the beach where he had reined in the runaway Sheba and told her at their second meeting that she was a menace that he hoped never to see again.

  And now she was near to the cliff road above which the lovely houses stood, one with a blue door and shutters. For a moment Lesley stood in the shadows, and then she saw them—two lovers, closely locked.

  Sorrel’s voice ripped
through the moonlight. ‘Come, my love. It’s time we went in.’

  Lesley did not wait to see or hear more. On silent footsteps she fled back along the downs, not pausing for breath until she came abreast of the Kissing Trees. No piskies dancing round the Fairy Ring, and no truth either, in Sirs Piper’s other story that when a man and a girl kissed for the first time beneath the Kissing Trees they would be true lovers, for ever and a day.

  There were no tears in Lesley’s green eyes. Only in her heart.

  Lesley whistled to Dingo. He, like the twins, had gone over to the side of the enemy, but this afternoon he was at a loose end, and he responded ecstatically to the suggestion of a walk. Not that she intended to walk, at least not on the Trevendone estate. She felt if she stayed anywhere in the vicinity she would disgrace herself by lying down and giving way to the misery which was tearing out her heart.

  She hadn’t seen Blake this morning. Probably he was still in the white house on the cliff above St Benga Town. But she had gone into the little office, left it tidy, moving out all her own possessions, leaving the typewriter covered.

  This afternoon she was free, but she wasn’t going to bother about lunch. Food would choke her, she thought. This afternoon, she would go off on her own and say a final farewell to her dreams of the lovely land of Lyonesse, of Camelot and the legends of chivalry. It had turned sour on her, this lovely cruel coast. Farewell now to all that. Tonight she would pack and begin to prepare for the vigorous reality of life in Australia.

  She ran the Mini out of the garage, opened the door for Dingo to jump in beside her and set off much too fast down the drive and along the main road. Weeks ago she had promised herself that she would explore a little ruined church on a steep cliff point about five miles north of St Benga Town.