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Authors: Sara Seale

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BOOK: The Dark Stranger
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His eyes looked very blue and hard.


Belle knew and said nothing either. What are you trying to cook up between you?


Belle is the person responsible for how I behave,

she said, raising her chin.


And I am the person to whom both of you are responsible—while you remain in my house,

he replied with hauteur.

You know my wishes perfectly well. Are you driven to having an affair behind my back with my own cousin
?


It wasn

t an affair,

she faltered, unsure whether he might not shake her violently if she continued to argue with him.


Do you realize that Adwen

s name stinks in Cornwall?

he said.

Will you understand that his reputation with women has been a by-word since he was eighteen, like his father

s before him? Do you think I

ve no regard for my own good name as well as yours that I

ll permit gossip of that kind? I have to hear from my own works that your name is blazoned on that boat of his as he

s blazoned the names of all his other girls to boast his conquests in the town.

Her mouth trembled. He had stripped her of all her new-found confidence and turned Adwen

s small compliment into an insult. She should have known, she supposed, that the you
n
g man was just amusing himself, that he was equally content, as Belle had said, to exploit her riper charms.


I

m sorry,

she said in a whisper,

I didn

t know.

For a moment his face softened.


No, Tina, I don

t think you did,

he said, but she did not wait to hear any more and ran blindly out of the room, pushing past Belle in the doorway.


The tables seem to be turned, and it

s you who are having a little trouble now, and not me,

Belle drawled, coming into the room.


A little trouble that you, apparently, have been at some pains to foster!

he retorted.

You, at least, understood the type of man Adwen Pentreath is.


Oh, that,

she said indifferently.

Have you just found out? My dear Craig, all young girls have to learn the facts
of life for themselves. I don

t suppose Adwen is worse than any other young man with an eye for the girls. Besides,
I
understand he

s thinking of settling down. You said yourself Tina needed a husband.

T
he darker color rose under his skin.


You don

t imagine I

d let her marry Adwen, even if that were true, do you?

he asked.

She shrugged.


I don

t see how you could prevent it. You

re not legally responsible for either of them.


I

m responsible for Pentreath behavior and
T
ina

s
under age.


But I, my dear cousin, am responsible for Tina, or have you forgotten? It will be my consent that is required, not yours.

His eyes narrowed.


And are you telling me you

d let her marry any young bounder just to get rid of her?

he demanded.

Belle smiled.


How heartless you make me sound. I don

t want to get rid of her, but after all she is a liability, and she

ll have to marry one day.

His jaw tightened ominously.


Heartless is the word,

he said with cold contempt.

It

s what you

ve always been, Belle, heartless and vulgarly mercenary.

She looked away, aware that whatever hopes of him she may have cherished, she had never really stood a chance.


You hate me, don

t you, Craig? You class me with the Polrame lot,

she said bitterly.


No, I don

t hate you, Belle. Sometimes I think I

m sorry for you. Your approach to life can hardly
ma
ke
for happiness.


Do you want us to go?

He considered her thoughtfully, the indolent figure, still fine, despite the increasing slackening of softness, the handsome face declaring a heritage they both shared! He could not deny her blood any more than he could deny Adwen

s.


No,

he said slowly.

You have some claim on me, Be
l
le, and Tina has some claim on you.

She gave him a quick look.


It

s Tina you don

t want to lose, isn

t it?

she said sharply.

Well, my dear, Tina or me—it

s all one.

His head went up.


You

ll stay on my own terms—both of you,

he countered brusquely.

I

ll have no more interference, Belle, and no more scheming, either, so rid yourself of any idea that you can assist Adwen to score off me by making a marriage out of spite like his father before him. I

ve had about as much as I

ll stand of Pentreath trickery. Tell Brownie, please, I won

t be in for tea. I

m going back to the cannery.

 

CHAPTER
SEVEN

I

IT seemed to Tina afterwards that the day marked the end of summer. The phenomenally warm weather which had lasted right into October seemed to change overnight to the sharp winds of autumn, rain which fell for days without a break and everywhere the gentle decay of the dying summer. The last tripper left Merrynporth, the small yachts were beached, and at Tremawvan, Zachary made bonfires of the falling leaves and stacked a great wood pile against the coming winter.


Young girls should not be idle,

Brownie would say with a disapproving look at Tina

s still hands.

In my young days we hadn

t the freedom to wander where we pleased and get into mischief, and a good thing, too.

Sometimes Tina would ask Brownie about the old Cornish legends and customs as they worked together, darning sheets or checking stores in the still-room. Then Brownie

s own hands would lie idle while she told of the mermaid who came to hear the squire

s son sing and lured him back to the sea with her, the Pipers who piped for the Merry Maidens who were turned into stones for enjoying themselves on the Sabbath, the saint who visited Ireland and cured a fellow saint of leprosy, thus removing his chief claim to sainthood. There were endless tales of the saints with the strange names, tales of smuggling and tales of wrecking.


It was the tinners gave Cornishmen their bad reputation,

Brownie said.

It was the tinners who would desert their mines and rush down and destroy a ship which the fishermen had saved with much trouble. Seamen wreckers were different.

Tina thought of Craig, threatening to break up Adwen

s boat for firewood, and smiled doubtfully.


The Cornish character is very puzzling,

she said.

Brownie took up her work again.


Contradictory,

she replied.

They

re a mixture of harshness and gentleness, cruelty and tenderness, but never you make any mistake, Tina, the right sort of Cornishman is a prize worth having. It

s fellows like the Polrame lot, women like Belle who have only the native softness and indolence and none of the sterner qualities, who get you confused.


They all get me confused,

said Tina, and indeed, when she thought of the Pentreaths, it was true. They were alike and yet so unalike, Craig, Adwen, even Belle, but at least in Craig she sensed that gentleness of which Brownie had spoken and if cruelty lay in his tongue at an unguarded moment it was, she thought, born of an honesty which was brutal because it knew no compromise.

To Belle

s questions she made guarded replies. She had the impression that her stepmother still saw Adwen. There were days when she returned from the Spanish Inn with an air of secrecy and a tolerance towards everyone. Then she would be expansive with Tina and throw out little hints and tell her she was not forgotten.

Tina did not want to talk about Adwen but she was grateful for those moments when Belle, warm from her martinis and the progression of her plans, would lounge on a sofa by the fire and talk for a while as if Tina was an equal. Lured by such manoeuvres back to the old admiration, Tina blinded herself to an intimacy she suspected to be false, and grasped with both hands the favors which were offered.


Oh, Belle,

she said, when after a fortnight or more, these softer moods showed no signs of lessening,

this is
how I

ve always wanted things—talking together, laughing over silly, feminine things.


Very likely,

said Belle a little dryly.

But you need more to amuse you than that. Why not come up to the pub with me one day and—make other acquaintances? Your young man misses you, you know.

Tina shook her head. She was glad Adwen missed her but she did not want to see him, and she did not like the Spanish Inn.


I suppose Craig made you promise never to see his cousin again,

Belle said, amusement, or perhaps derision, in her eyes for a moment.


No, he didn

t ask for any promises,

Tina said then laughed.

Perhaps he thought it wasn

t necessary after shouting orders at Adwen from the sloop. He looked exactly like a pirate, Belle, threatening to ram and then saying if my name wasn

t taken off
the
boat he

d come and break it up for firewood.

Belle

s smile was a little mechanical.


So you admire the buccaneering spirit,

she observed.

It might have been better if your young man had shown a little more fight.


Yes,

said Tina, nodding her head thoughtfully, then added in all fairness.

Still, I don

t see what he could have done. Craig, with his superior sloop and no canvas to impede him, certainly had the upper hand.

BOOK: The Dark Stranger
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