Galleon House

by Margaret Malcolm

  Simon nodded.

  “It was true,” he agreed grimly. “But if Luke had lived to see the inside of the safe, he would have discovered what I already knew. The Trevaine Treasure no longer exists. The safe was ... absolutely ... empty!”

  He sensed rather than heard the sigh that passed Andrea’s lips, but he dared not look at her.

  “But... but I thought that, quite recently, some of it was up for sale,” the Rector insisted. “Yes I’m sure I saw it in the newspapers.”

  “So it was. The last treasure of all,” Simon said gravity. “Galleon House took a lot of upkeep, you know, and my cousin, like everyone else, had felt the pinch. So every last piece has—vanished into thin air!”

  From the past that was already growing dim it seemed to Andrea that she heard Madam’s voice: A man who can use words not only to reveal his thoughts, which is easy. But to hide them, which is quite another matter.

  Only she knew what he really meant. Somehow he had contrived to get rid of that incriminating evidence—the jewels that were supposedly sold and never really had been. Madam had also said that he was a dangerous man, and with a sense of awe Andrea realized that he had never been more dangerous than now when he was fighting for her safety and happiness.

  Inevitably, they were besieged by press reporters, and Andrea was startled at Simon’s frankness. But she did not question his wisdom. On the contrary, she gained confidence because she realized that his statements were deliberate and planned. But when the men had gone, she saw how tired he was, and she wondered how she could ever have felt that what Leo had done was adventurous and gallant and quite justifiable. Now that this burden had fallen on Simon’s shoulders, a burden for which she felt partly responsible, she saw it all in a truer light and marveled that in spite of it Simon loved her. It made her feel very humble, and yet tremendously proud.

  These were anxious days for both of them, for the past still cast its shadow over them and it was impossible to be sure what the future held. Simon took Andrea completely into his confidence as soon as opportunity offered.

  “We’ve nothing to fear from our own people,” he told her grimly. “They have their own reasons for holding their tongues. But I’m pretty certain we’re going to hear from the people Leo worked with before long. In fact, thanks to the publicity the press has given us, they can’t stay away! They must find out where they stand.” He pondered. “Yes, they’ll be along!”

  “What will you say?” Andrea asked anxiously.

  “That will have to depend on what they say,” Simon replied. “But there’s one thing, neither they nor anyone else will be able to find the stuff that Leo was supposed to have sold, because it’s at the bottom of the sea—miles out.”

  “What!” she exclaimed incredulously.

  “I had it with me on the Cormorant that time you took her out,” he explained. “It seemed sheer vandalism—but I had to get rid of it. It was the principal evidence of what had been going on, you see. I’m sorry, Andrea. It must seem a dreadful thing to have done to you.”

  “No,” she said slowly. “It just seems unreal. As everything else connected with Leo and Madam does. Like a dream...”

  “A dream you can never get back into,” Simon said gently, watching her expressive face with troubled eyes.

  “But I don’t want to,” she assured him quickly. “It ... it was more than a dream, Simon. I think ... I feel as if I were under a spell...”

  As Simon himself had felt since he had first set eyes on Galleon House. As he still was, though it was dust and rubble.

  He spent much of his time with Mr. Trenire, the solicitor. With the destruction of the house and everything in it, a complex situation had arisen. Leo had insured his property to the utmost and, as in most policies, there was a clause covering damage through underground subsidence. But human action, Luke’s, had been instrumental in starting the subsidence and Simon’s claim might be disallowed—and there were immense death duties to be paid. Mr. Trenire was hopeful that some agreement might be reached, but in the meantime there was uncertainty and anxiety. Simon was firmly determined not to benefit personally by Leo’s legacy to him, but he had other plans which required money to carry through.

  As soon as he could spare time, Simon took Andrea up to the ruin. It was in the nature of a farewell to what little was left, for Simon planned, as soon as it was safe, to have even that little razed to the ground and for a stout wire fence to be erected round the danger area. Any thought of digging to see if there was anything left was out of the question. It would be too expensive as well as too dangerous.

  “But I imagine, once we have gone, the villagers will start a treasure hunt up here, and in all probability, odds and ends will find their way into the cottages. The Armada candlesticks, perhaps!”

  Andrea looked at him anxiously. He sounded so terribly tired. She was just going to suggest that they should go back to the Rectory when, from just behind them, a strange voice spoke.

  “This certainly is a tragedy,” said an unmistakably American voice. “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

  Simon whipped around.

  “And how does it come about that you are seeing it with your own eyes?” he asked crisply, “I gave orders that no strangers were to be allowed here.”

  Cool gray eyes regarded him unperturbed.

  “You’ll be the new master, I imagine?” their owner suggested, without troubling to answer Simon’s question. “Yes, I thought as much. Well, I must offer you my sincere sympathy. A lovely place, Galleon House. Oh yes, I’ve seen it before, early this year. Not as a guest. Just a sightseer. We Americans take a keen interest in your old buildings, you know, because, naturally, we have nothing to compare with them.” He shook his head sadly. “A real tragedy!”

  “You read all about it in the papers, I suppose,” Simon suggested, and the American nodded.

  “That’s so. They made a good story of it, I will say! Romantic! It appealed to me, particularly since, as I said, I was here not so very long ago.”

  There was a silence. Andrea stole a look at Simon’s face and saw something in it that startled her. It was a look she had seen more than once on Leo’s face. The keen, alert look of a man who knows he faces danger—and welcomes it.

  The American was the first to speak.

  “Yes, it was a good story—but it didn’t go far enough to satisfy me!”

  “No?” Simon said softly.

  “No. The way this man, Polwyn, wasn’t it? Yes. The way he found a way into the cave that no one knew anything about, the fact that all the treasure had gone—yes, that was mighty interesting. But what I want to know is, what happens next? Now, don’t say that’s colossal nerve on my part. It’s genuine interest, I do assure you.”

  “Well, I shan’t rebuild,” Simon told him. “For one thing, such a house is irreplaceable. For another, I can’t afford it. Death duties alone...”

  “Sure, sure!” The American nodded sympathetically. “But you’ll stay on, no doubt? Carry on the ... tradition of the family as your cousin did?”

  It was that very brief hesitation that told Andrea who, without doubt, this man was. The man Simon had been waiting for—the representative of the people with whom Leo had dealt. And he had come to see whether Simon was willing to play their game. She held her breath.

  “No,” Simon said decisively. “I’m a New Zealander and my interests are there. I propose returning to my own country as soon as possible.”

  “Is that so? Now, I would have thought you would feel a kind of responsibility to the people here...”

  “Up to a point,” Simon admitted. “But to my mind, the days of a feudal association are over. I think it’s better for people to stand on their own feet. I should have thought that, as an American, you would appreciate that point of view.”

  “Oh, I do—as a good American!” he agreed. “But as an incurable romantic, I regret it. You don’t think it will come hard on your people? Not havin
g the master to lead them, I mean?”

  “I hope not,” Simon said very deliberately. “You see, I intend making over the cottages and farms to their occupants. They are my tenants at present, of course. I fancy people are usually willing to work a little harder when it’s a question of their own property.”

  “No doubt, no doubt!” the American agreed. “And the boat—the Cormorant, isn’t she?”

  “I shall make over my share to the other shareholders,” Simon explained shortly.

  “You seem to have thought of everything, Mr. Trevaine,” the man said softly. “Now, this young lady...”

  “My ward, Miss Trevaine,” Simon said stiffly.

  “Ah yes, I remember. She was mentioned in the report. She will be staying here?”

  “Miss Trevaine is coming to New Zealand with me.”

  Andrea could see Simon’s fists clenching and unclenching at this piece of impertinence, but his voice was as controlled as ever. “Since there are no more Trevaines here, I think she will feel more at home with us.”

  “I’m sure I hope so.” The sympathetic voice sounded perfectly sincere. “Well, thank you very much, Mr. Trevaine, for having been so patient with me. I’d like to assure you again that this isn’t just common curiosity on my part. I really am interested.”

  “That’s very kind of you,” Simon said gravely.

  “And I should like to wish both you and Miss Trevaine every good thing in the future. Good day to you both.”

  And turning sharply, he strode off, leaving two silent people watching his retreat. When he had rounded the bend in the drive, Andrea turned to Simon.

  “He was from ... them?” she whispered.

  “Yes,” Simon said with conviction. “The same man who outbid me at the sale. I think they sent him purposely, expecting that I would recognize him, because, if I was in the know and wanted to carry on with them, I should know I was safe in talking to him.”

  “But you didn’t tell him you remembered him.”

  “No, I didn’t. I wanted to convince him that I knew nothing of their racket and I thought that might help. He is probably disappointed that I didn’t rise to the bait, but at least he has gone away feeling safe. So we shall be, too. They won’t talk.”

  “No, I suppose not,” Andrea agreed.

  “I hope I’ve made it so clear that he can have no illusions on the matter. St. Finbar, in future, will be leaderless, but, at the same time, better off than ever before.” He frowned. “It ought to work—it must work! At least it’s the best I can do for them.”

  “I think it will work,” Andrea said soberly. “They will have to work harder than they have done for a long time, but it will be for themselves. And it’s the best thing for them. Even Leo was getting worried because they were all so lazy.”

  Leo! A picture of the handsome, arrogant man rose before Simon’s eyes. A man born out of his time—he remembered having thought that. A man who could not accept today as it was but who tried to live in the past. What would Leo have done now that he had come to the end of his treasure? It was, Simon knew, a question which would always vex him, but it would never be solved now.

  Simon was breathing deeply as a man might do after a grueling race, but a great change had come over him. His shoulders were squared as if a great weight had been lifted from them and he was smiling. Suddenly he stretched his arms mightily to the skies, and as suddenly lowered them and caught her to him.

  “Andrea, I hope—I believe we’re out of the wood.” He whispered against her bright hair. “I think the spell is broken—for both of us.”

  Yet, for a while another, sweeter spell held them close.

  At last, looking down into her flushed, happy face he said slowly:

  “Yes, even now, I’m afraid. You see, Andrea, you can’t realize yet how different the life you will lead in New Zealand will be from everything to which you have been accustomed. There will be comfort, yes. But none of this almost regal state. And you will meet people whose outlook on life will seem very strange to you. Suppose you’re not happy?”

  But he found he could not say any more because her hand lay gently over his mouth.

  “It will seem strange,” she admitted gravely. “It must, because it will all be so new. And I expect I shall make mistakes. But it will not really matter. It’s not where I am that will make me happy any more, Simon. It’s who I’m with. You—anywhere! Now, are you satisfied?”

  “Satisfied!” he said unsteadily. “That’s a poor word! Touched to the heart—crazy with happiness—no, there aren’t words for it! Only this—”

  Tenderly at first and then with deepening passion, he held her close, his lips on hers. She clung to him, her heart throbbing with the present joy and the knowledge of even greater happiness to come. She had told Simon that it did not matter where she was, as long as it was with him. She could have told him, had he given her the opportunity, that it did not matter who she was either. Polwyn or Trevaine—it was of no importance. She was going to be Simon’s wife! Nothing else in the whole wide world was of any importance.