Sally James (2 page)

She stood up, and asked if he needed help. He rose slowly to his feet, to find that she was tall, reaching to his shoulder, and he was over six feet.

“I shall contrive, if you will be good enough to lead the way,” he answered, smiling down at her.

She nodded, and turned to do so. She was barefoot, and walked with a sinuous grace across the sands towards the rocks that stretched out into the sea. He followed, and saw a dark shadow in the rock face. The girl led the way into the hole, which was just a short passage, for after a couple of yards he saw daylight again round a bend. They emerged onto a larger beach, and he was relieved to see a sloping path ascending easily beside a narrow stream that had cut a passage through the cliffs.

* * * *

By the time they had climbed to the top of the cliffs, to the fairly flat centre of the island, he was sweating profusely with the pain and the exertion. On the far side of the flat ground, only a hundred yards or so, he was thankful to see, there stood a gaunt building. It had at one time been a castle, he judged, but had fallen into ruins, and the stones had been used to construct a small house against the wall of the keep. There was a woman outside, hanging washing on a line stretched between two scraggy, windblown trees.

“Anna!” the girl – he could not bring himself to think of her as Redruth – called, and the woman turned, then came running towards them in an awkward rolling fashion.

“What have you, child? Sir! How did you come to this island?”

“He was shipwrecked, Anna, and I found him sleeping on the beach in the shell cove. He did not know there was a way out. His shoulder is hurt. Can you help him?”

“Pardon, sir!” She bobbed a curtsey. “We are so remote here. Come into the kitchen, and I will see what is to be done. Child, go and fetch Bob, I may need his help. He’s my husband, sir, and he’s good with animals.”

Denzil laughed. “I hope I do not seem to be such?”

“Oh, no, indeed, sir! I pray you will not be offended? I am bemused. I but meant that he often treats the animals. It looks like a broken bone by the way you hold it, and he can set them.”

“I think it only a dislocation,” Denzil said hopefully.

“We will see. Ah, here he comes now. He was not far away.”

A small wiry man trudged up, followed by the girl, and he soon had Denzil’s coat and shirt removed, apologising that he had to tear out the sleeves. Watched with interest by the two women, he quickly examined Denzil’s shoulder, and then gave it a twist. Denzil bit back a yell of agony, and then realised the nagging pain was eased. Cautiously he tried to move his arm, and found to his delight that Bob had put it right.

“I am very greatly in your debt,” he smiled.

“It will be stiff for some time,” Bob warned, “but there are no bones broke. What happened? Was there anyone else with you?”

Anna suddenly seemed to realise that the girl was still there.

“Redruth, you had best go and tell Miss Brockton about the gentleman. What was your name, sir?”

“Sir Denzil Trewyn. I was alone, and my boat was driven onto some rocks in the storm. I had to swim for it, but I was caught in a whirlpool, and it happened then. I was resting, for I was unable to go further, when Miss – Redruth found me.”

They nodded, and Anna bustled about offering him cider and a pastie that she took from the oven. He accepted gratefully, for he had eaten nothing in his ill mood that morning, and only a leg of chicken from the food Ted had packed for him.

“Bob will be able to row you across to the mainland when the tide turns,” she said.

“Is there an inn and a town nearby?” he asked, glancing out of the window at the sun, which was now low in the west, and not relishing the thought of being landed so late in the day on a strange, and probably deserted part of the coast.

She seemed about to reply, and then changed her mind, pursing her lips and returning to her cooking.

“I do not know this part of the coast at all. Where is this island? What is it called?” he queried.

“Miss Brockton will decide what’s best to be done,” she said, ignoring his questions, and he could see he would not obtain any information from her.

There was a commotion outside the kitchen, and a tall, severe looking woman in her forties appeared.

“Redruth, go back to your room as I have ordered, and I will attend to the matter,” she said over her shoulder.

He could hear Redruth protesting, but Miss Brockton closed the door firmly and turned to regard him, an inscrutable look on her hard, determined features.

“So you maintain you were shipwrecked?” she asked coldly, and Denzil had the absurd impression he was expected to apologise for being so incredibly careless. Suppressing a grin, he began a graceful apology for having caused them so much trouble, and she listened in silence, her forbidding expression not relaxing in the slightest degree.

“That is as maybe,” she said briefly. “But I fear it is too late to send you over to the mainland tonight. Anna will prepare a bed for you.”

She glanced briefly at Anna, who nodded and left the kitchen.

“And now, Sir Denzil, may I have your promise you will not excite my charge in any way? It is most unfortunate this had to happen, for she has already been considerably upset.”

This he could not accept. “Naturally I do not wish to harm Miss – “ He paused, but she did not offer to supply a name. “Miss Redruth, but I judged her exceptionally calm and competent, in the distressing event of finding a shipwrecked mariner on her doorstep!”

Miss Brockton smiled, grimly. “That is her manner, which is deceptive. I must inform you that she is – shall we say somewhat unhinged? The least event out of the ordinary is likely to disturb her further. That is why we live in such seclusion, which you may have wondered at. If you cannot promise to behave circumspectly before her, I must ask you to eat your dinner in your room. As it is, I must request that you have no more private speech with her.”

“I will naturally do nothing to upset her,” he prevaricated, wondering fleetingly whether it was Miss Brockton who was unhinged.

She seemed satisfied, however, and conversed with him about boats, and the weather, and the treacherous Cornish coast, all without giving him any further information, until Anna returned.

“Show Sir Denzil to his room, Anna, and take some hot water to him. Then look in the old trunk where those clothes of – those old clothes are kept, and find something for him to wear while you dry and repair his own.”

She waited, and Anna led the way. Denzil followed meekly, and found himself in a small, barely furnished room which was almost filled with an old four poster bed. There were no hangings to either bed or window, and only a single small rug was thrown on the floorboards. Denzil went to look out of the window, but it was close to the old castle wall, and he could see little apart from that and bare rocks sloping towards the clifftop.

Anna appeared with hot water, and a voluminous coat of the style popular half a century before, a pair of silk stockings and velvet knee breeches. She removed his own garments, shaking her head dubiously at the damage.

“I doubt I will be able to mend this coat, Sir Denzil. It was a rare tight fit.”

Privately Denzil was well aware the coat was unfit for further service, and he would normally not have dreamed of appearing in a mended garment, but the circumstances were not normal. He grinned quizzically at Anna.

“Believe me, I am grateful to you for making the attempt. Stitch it together so that I may wear it without the sleeve hanging off. That is all that can be done, Anna.”

“I will come back to show you the way to the dining parlour in a few minutes, Sir,” she assured him, and disappeared, leaving the normally fastidious and elegant Sir Denzil somewhat ruefully regarding the clothes she had left for him.

Then, grinning at the thought of the sight he would present, and the sheer disbelief his friends would express at the very notion of his exhibiting himself in such a rig before a charming young female, he stripped off the rest of his wet clothes and pulled on the borrowed finery. Fortunately they were large enough, and not too loose, though the seams of the coat creaked alarmingly across his broad shoulders, but they would serve.

He peered into the small mirror he found, and grimaced at the view which confronted him. The small stock which Anna had provided was rather loose, and he felt most odd without his normal cravat, but he shrugged, and his thoughts turned to his next meeting with the unusual girl he had discovered, so that when Anna reappeared he was impatient to follow her.

Chapter Two

The dining parlour to which he was conducted was far more luxuriously furnished than the bedroom he had been given, and he surveyed the subdued comfort appreciatively. The furnishings were old, but of good quality, and similar to that in his own family home. The table was laid with silver and crystal, and several decanters stood on the sideboard.

“The ladies will be here immediately,” Anna informed him. “Miss Brockton asked me to apologise for your not being taken to the drawing room, but said there was no need to delay further, and please to help yourself to a drink.”

She disappeared, and he accepted the invitation, poured himself some sherry, and inspected the room again. It struck him as odd there were no paintings on the wall, no portraits of ancestors such as those that so often adorned the walls of dining parlours. He picked up a knife and examined it, but there was no monogram, nothing that could hint at the owner. He wondered whether it was a deliberate attempt at concealment.

As he stood sipping his sherry and pondering this curious household, Miss Brockton appeared, followed by Redruth. He had no eyes for the governess, once he had politely greeted her, for the girl absorbed his whole attention. She was dressed in a conventional gown this time, of simple blue muslin, the colour matching her eyes to perfection. The gown had short puffed sleeves and several narrow flounces at the hem. It was straight, caught up with darker blue ribbons at the high waist, and suited her admirably. He stared at her, wondering how, if they were as isolated as they would have him believe, she could achieve so fashionable a look.

“You look charmingly, Miss Redruth,” he said, bowing over the hand which she tentatively extended.

Miss Brockton immediately took charge. “Redruth has some skill in needlework, Sir Denzil, and copies the gowns we see illustrated in the
Lady’s Magazine
. We are not so completely barbaric as her previous costume might have given you to suppose.”

“I prefer my tunic, for it is comfortable, and convenient for walking and climbing rocks.” Redruth protested. “I would have it shorter, or better still wear pantaloons like a man, but you say it would not do.”

“Indeed no!” The governess was taken aback. “Your tunic is bad enough! But we do not wish to discuss your attire, child. Let us be seated. Sir Denzil, take this seat. Redruth, sit opposite. Now, Sir Denzil, perhaps you will be so kind as to tell us the latest news of London?”

The dinner passed peacefully. The dishes were well cooked, and there was a surprising variety. The first course consisted of a cod’s head and a matelot of eels, with pigeon pie and an omelet. When this was removed, Bob laid on the table a dressed crab, a sirloin of beef, with side dishes of peas and salad, and a plum tart and a syllabub. Miss Brockton asked innumerable questions which occupied Denzil fully, and he could not, without being impolite, interrupt and ask those he longed to put. He watched Redruth constantly but unobtrusively, looking for signs of a disturbed mind, but became more firmly convinced that she was as sane as he was himself. The few comments she made, when Miss Brockton was not asking her questions, were shrewd, and showed she had read extensively. There was little else for her to do, in her situation, he thought wryly. They obviously lived in good style, and their dress and manners proclaimed them gently born. He was increasingly intrigued by the mystery, and angry that such a girl should be incarcerated in this way. Why, he kept asking himself. Who had perpetrated such a deed, and who was she?

He went to bed unsatisfied. Immediately the meal was over, Miss Brockton had sent Redruth out of the room, saying Sir Denzil would no doubt excuse her, and she must complete the work she had been engaged on that afternoon, before she had deserted it to go walking.

“But it was fortunate for me that you did, or I might still be lying on that beach,” Denzil said quickly. “Miss Brockton, will you not permit Miss Redruth to remain?”

“No, she must learn that her life must be ordered in a regular fashion, or she will regret it,” the governess said firmly.

Throwing him a glance of mingled appeal and regret, Redruth left the room obediently, and Miss Brockton led the way to a drawing room as comfortably furnished as the dining room.

“I regret the room we have provided for you is so lacking in comfort,” she said, when she had settled herself with some embroidery. “But as we never have visitors, we are not prepared for their entertainment.”

Denzil murmured polite disclaimers, then asked curiously, “Do Miss Redruth’s family never visit her? Perhaps she is an orphan?”

“What she is, is no concern of yours!” Miss Brockton snapped, in a tone utterly at variance with the polite ones she had been using at dinner. “I advise you, Sir Denzil, to forget you ever came to the island, or saw the child, for you will cause great harm if you do not.”

“I agree it is not my concern,” he replied calmly, “Except in that I cannot agree the girl is mad. Has she ever seen a doctor who specialises in such disorders?”

“Those better qualified to judge than either you or I say she is, and must be kept in utter seclusion if she is not to deteriorate into an uncontrollable maniac,” she replied icily. “I am sure you would not wish that to be the result of your unfortunate appearance today.”

Denzil gazed at her sceptically, then commented mildly that her charge was very well read.

“You must have an exceptionally fine library. I wonder if I might look at it? I have some interest in old books,” he explained.