Arian (40 page)

‘Oh, Gerald knew you would be here, in Clydach, I mean.’ Sarah smoothed down her skirts. ‘It took a bit of hard work on my part to find exactly where but I’m not one to give up easily.’

She sat on the wooden bench, arranging her skirts carefully and Arian stared down at her. ‘What do you want?’ She told herself to be calm. There was nothing Sarah could do, nothing she could say to hurt her. That part of her life was over for good.

Shakily, Arian sat opposite Sarah wondering what she could possibly want with her. She was soon to find out.

‘Look, I want to help you, Arian. I mean you no harm, please don’t look so worried. I wondered if I might help you to prove your marriage was not really legal.’

‘Why do you want to do that? You wouldn’t benefit either way, would you?’

‘Oh, no, certainly not,’ Sarah said breezily. She was at her most ladylike today. Sarah enjoyed pretending she was from the upper-crust society of Swansea, choosing to forget that her father had been a humble cobbler before his marriage to Emily Grenfell. ‘I wondered why you didn’t go to France to try to find out the truth about this so-called marriage.

Arian looked at her suspiciously. ‘Why do you care?’ She knew the question was direct, blunt even, but she was past being polite. ‘What’s in it for you? Even if Gerald turned out to be a single man he couldn’t marry you.’ As she spoke, Arian felt a pang of hope. What if the marriage wasn’t legal? She would be free, free of Gerald Simples and free of the past.

‘There’s really nothing I could gain from all this,’ Sarah said softly. ‘I am, as you know, a married woman myself. It’s just that you are obviously unhappy in this marriage and so is Gerald. It would surely suit you both to be released from vows you made under duress.’ She produced a piece of paper.

‘Look, I copied this name down from some certificate Gerald had in his possessions. It’s the name of a priest and of a church, it might just be of help.’

‘But we weren’t married in a church.’ Arian looked at the name Sarah had written. It was one she didn’t recognize. The so-called priest who had married them was Father Alain, a name imprinted on Arian’s mind, part of the nightmare she’d experienced in France.

She tried to think clearly. She didn’t trust Sarah. She must have some ulterior motive for wanting Gerald’s marriage to be illegal. Probably, she just wanted Gerald Simples all to herself, without any encumbrance. Well, Sarah was welcome to Gerald.

Arian rose to her feet and took the paper. ‘Thank you for calling.’ Arian moved away. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me I really am …’ Her words were interrupted by Bridie who came into the garden carrying a tray.

‘I’m home. I’ve stripped the shops bare and now I thought we’d have some tea.’ She glanced politely at Sarah and nodded. ‘You don’t mind if I intrude into your conversation?’

‘Of course not.’ Sarah moved to help Bridie with the tray. ‘You are the reason I called, actually.’ She chose to ignore the fact that she had been handing out advice to Arian. ‘I’m having a small afternoon sometime next week. The invitations will come out formally, of course, but as we hit it off so well the other evening, I took the liberty of calling on you unannounced.’

‘Very kind of you, I’m sure,’ Bridie said. ‘We don’t stand on ceremony here. Visitors are more than welcome, with or without leaving a calling card.’ It was a mild rebuke but Sarah was thick skinned enough to ignore it.

‘You got on so well with that young captain, I thought you two might like to meet again.’

Arian stood for a moment listening to the inconsequential chatter of the two women. She wanted no more discussions with Sarah Frogmore and yet she liked Bridie and it would be rude to refuse to take tea with her. Reluctantly, she returned to her seat.

‘You two know each other well?’ Bridie placed the tray on the garden table. ‘I suppose it’s inevitable that your paths should cross, both of you coming from Swansea.’

‘Of course we know each other,’ Sarah gushed. ‘We have been through some trying times together, haven’t we Arian?’

Arian was tempted to blurt out the truth, that she had caught Sarah in bed with her husband, but she thought better of it. She didn’t wish to embarrass Bridie.

‘You could say that.’ She took the elegant bone china cup that Bridie had bought to replace Jono’s crude pottery and drank some of the tea gratefully. What had promised to be a peaceful afternoon had turned out most unexpectedly. Still, Sarah had raised a doubt in Arian’s mind. Perhaps a trip to France would be worth it. There was a faint hope that her marriage to Gerald was invalid.

She would discuss it later with Bridie who knew quite a lot about the shipping that went in and out of the port. Perhaps she could arrange for them both to take a short trip across the channel.

Arian sat back and listened as the two other women chattered together, making polite small talk. It was quite obvious to Arian that Bridie was not impressed by Sarah’s affected manners but Bridie was nothing if not a lady and so she offered more tea and smiled encouragingly, listening to the inane things Sarah said as though they were pearls of wisdom.

At last Sarah rose to her feet and brushed down her skirts. ‘Well, I’d better be going. I shall walk into town along the canal bank,’ she dimpled, in what she hoped was a charming manner. ‘Once I return to civilization I can get a cab back home.’ She turned to Arian. ‘Think about what we discussed, my dear.’ Her tone was patronizing and Arian saw Bridie’s mouth quirk a little at the corners. ‘I’m sure the advice I gave was good.’

Arian didn’t choose to reply. She watched as Bridie walked with Sarah round the corner of the house, listened to the muted chatter as the two women went towards the gate and sighed with relief when she heard it creak shut behind Sarah.

Bridie returned fanning her face. ‘That lady is really quite hard to take,’ she said smiling. ‘I suppose as a good Catholic girl with convent manners I should be more tolerant but an hour of Sarah Frogmore is as much as I can stand.’

She sat down and rested her hand on Arian’s shoulder. ‘What was this advice she was so keen to give you?’

Arian bit her lip before answering. ‘It wasn’t bad advice, really,’ she said at last. ‘She thought I should go to France, find out if my marriage to Gerald Simples was legal or not.’

‘Do you want to know?’ Bridie asked slowly and Arian looked up, meeting her eye.

‘If I found I was free of him, it would be the happiest moment of my life.’

‘Then I’ll arrange it, if I may,’ Bridie said. ‘I would love to go to France again. My father used to take me with him when I was little.’ Her voice trembled and Arian looked at her quickly.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I know you miss him badly.’

Bridie clutched her hand. ‘I’ll get over it, it’s about time I grew up. I can’t be a daddy’s girl for the rest of my life, can I?’

Arian suppressed a smile. ‘I like you, Bridie James. You’re like a breath of fresh air, mind.’

‘You’ll embarrass me if you go on like that.’ Bridie rose to her feet. ‘I’m going inside now, put all my shopping away, but I’ll see to our trip to France, you can count on it. I’d regard it as an adventure.’ A sudden smile lit her face. ‘I might even get that handsome Paul Marchant to take us, that’s what I’d
call
an adventure.’

When she was alone, Arian looked around the garden as though with new eyes. Perhaps she was a free woman – the thought was heady indeed. She had no idea of Sarah’s motives in coming here today. They were probably inspired by self-interest but she didn’t care. She had been handed a sliver of hope and now she felt invigorated as though, suddenly, she had a reason for living.

It was two weeks later when Arian and Bridie and a reluctant Jono prepared to set sail from Swansea docks. The ship, predictably, belonged to Paul Marchant. It had been the first of his vessels sailing for the French coast and when he and Arian were introduced, they recognized each other at once.

‘Ah, Mrs Simples, going to France on another visit then?’ his smile was tinged with speculation. ‘I hope this trip will be happier than the last.’

Arian looked at him, wondering how much he knew about her arrest and marriage. Not very much, she supposed.

‘Mr Marchant is coming with us on this trip, by way of a small holiday.’ Bridie couldn’t conceal her delight and Paul Marchant couldn’t have failed to be aware that Bridie was more than a little interested in him.

‘I’m honoured to have you both aboard.’ Paul’s tone was warm, his eyes sparkling as they rested on Bridie. ‘I can only hope you’ll find everything in order.’

‘I’m sure I will,’ Bridie said. ‘But don’t you think that deckhand should get out of the way of the anchor line?’

Paul shrugged. ‘See? Finding fault already.’ His tone was dry but he moved quickly to the side of the ship and shouted instructions to the men on the deck below.

‘Perhaps you ladies would like to go to your cabin?’ Paul returned to Bridie’s side. ‘Mr Morgan too?’

‘Want to get rid of me, do you?’ Her smile widened. ‘I admit I’ve been a thorn in the side of more than one sailor when travelling with my father’s fleet. As to poor old Jono, leave him be, he’ll cling to the rail until we leave the docks, he hates the sea.’

Arian followed Bridie below, she seemed as much at home on the ship as she was on land.

‘Who is running your father’s fleet now?’ Arian asked curiously and a shadow fell over Bridie’s open face.

‘I should be doing it,’ she said, ‘but just at the moment, I can’t cope. Perhaps later on …’ Her voice trailed away and she swallowed hard. ‘I keep expecting to see my father everywhere, at the wheel, reading his charts … Oh, I don’t know, I suppose I’m being silly. Come on, let’s both rest. It won’t do to arrive in France in tatters, will it?’

She climbed into her bunk, unlaced her boots and flung them onto the floorboards. ‘I’m going to close my eyes for half an hour till we’re at sea,’ Bridie said, ‘and I’d advise you to do the same.’ She smiled. ‘Poor old Jono will be sick the minute we set sail. It’s only his concern for you that made him come along in the first place.’

Arian climbed up into the bunk, lifting her full skirts and lay wide eyed, wondering if she was wasting her time going to France at all. She felt the rocking motion of the ship, lulling her into a sense of unreality. Soon her eyes closed and she slept.

It was in the captain’s cabin later when Arian saw Paul Marchant again. She realized that he was an exceptionally tall, very handsome man and for a moment, in a trick of the light, he reminded Arian of Calvin Temple. Calvin – how she’d missed him all these long months. What was he doing now? she wondered. Was he still womanizing, deceiving? Probably so. Men didn’t change their ways that easily.

Arian sat on Paul’s right hand and Bridie on his left; of Jono there was no sign. As Bridie had rightly pointed out, Jono was no sailor.

‘I hope you find what you want in France, Mrs Simples.’ Paul Marchant leaned towards her. He was smiling but the look in his eye was full of challenge.

‘Do you know something I don’t know?’ Her tone was blunt and she saw Bridie glance at her in surprise. ‘I’m sorry to appear rude but this trip is important. I have to find out if my marriage to Gerald Simples was legal or not.’

‘I won’t say I’m surprised to hear that,’ Paul said in a low voice, ‘and perhaps I can help. I do have my contacts.’

Paul, young as he was, was used to flirting outrageously with women passengers, very used to exerting his charms. Arian looked at him speculatively. He was probably about the same age as she was, in his early twenties, perhaps.

‘You’re very young to be the owner of a shipping line.’ She was embarrassed that she’d spoken her thoughts out loud but Paul didn’t seem the least bit offended.

‘I’ve been in the shipping game a while now, Mrs Simples.’

‘Please, call me Arian.’ her tone was brisk. ‘Sorry, I hate being called Mrs Simples.’

Bridie broke into the conversation. ‘I was wondering about you, too, Paul. Inherited the fleet, did you?’

‘No. Indeed, I built up the business myself. I’ve been at sea since I was a boy. No-one gave Paul Marchant a gift of anything and all I have I’ve worked hard for, believe me.’

He paused, his eyes looking mockingly into Arian’s. ‘As for my age, let’s just say I’m old enough.’ His meaning was unmistakable and Arian felt her colour rise. Once, she would have equalled his teasing, would have joined him in clever repartee but now, she was unused to laughter and suddenly she realized how dry her life had become. She stared down at her hands feeling dull and foolish. Bridie came to her rescue.

‘Arian hasn’t been too well. She’s had a difficult time of it, lately. A bit of sea air will do her good.’

Arian smiled at her gratefully. ‘I’m fit enough now, you and that cousin of yours have seen to that. And, if I’m a free woman, that’s all the inspiration I need to begin a new life.’

‘And what does Mr Simples say about all this?’ Paul seemed genuinely interested.

‘I don’t know,’ Arian said honestly. ‘I’ve left him, now he’s found consolation with someone else, at least I hope he has.’

‘So it wasn’t exactly a love match?’ Paul asked. ‘Forgive me for being so inquisitive but I wondered why you were married so suddenly last time you came to France.’

‘It’s a long and complicated story.’ Arian had no intention of launching into an explanation of the events leading up to her marriage.

‘Arian is full of mysteries,’ Bridie said and if she hoped to divert Paul, she was disappointed. He smiled at her briefly and then returned his attention to Arian.

‘Some mysteries are worth unravelling,’ he said. He pushed his plate away and rose to his feet.

‘Would you ladies like to accompany me for a stroll around the deck before you turn in?’ he asked. ‘It’s our last chance to talk. We dock with the tide in the early morning.’

Arian rose to her feet. ‘I intend to get some rest.’

‘Well I’m not tired,’ Bridie said ‘I’d love a walk, Paul.’ She looked at Arian apologetically. ‘I feel I need some air.’ Arian left the couple alone together, that’s what Bridie wanted and, as for her, she would be glad to get some rest. In the cabin, Arian lay on her bunk but sleep wouldn’t come. She felt restless, unsettled by the day’s events. One minute she was full of hope and the next her spirits were plummeting.