Devil's Mount Part 4

"How did I do that?" His eyes were mocking. "She wasn't to know we were old friends."

"We are not old friends!"

"No. Well, perhaps that was an unfortunate choice of phrase.

Nevertheless, until you stormed off, it seemed a perfectly natural situation to her."

"Oh, yes." Julie's tone was bitter. "I'm quite sure she wouldn't have quibbled about being in my position!"

His smile was infuriatingly complacent. "I had the same impression,"

he remarked, without conceit.

Julie uttered a frustrated sound. "The least you could havedone was be here on time! I've been waiting almost half an hour!"

"Ah!" He rubbed the side of his nose. "Well, there was a reason for that."

"A puncture, no doubt!"

Julie was amazed at her own temerity, but his behaviour had not exactly been responsible either. With a slight, indifferent shrug of his leather-clad shoulders, he seemed to concede the point however, and swinging round in his seat flicked the ignition. The powerful engine roared into life, and he reversed with evident expertise out of the parking area. Julie sat stiffly, half prepared for him to make some scathing retort, but nothing was forthcoming, and she was compelled to an uneasy silence.

Street lamps were lighted, casting pools of shadow beyond their circles of light. Mist hazed the windscreen both inside and out, as warm breath encountered cold gla.s.s, and Julie was glad of the car's heater to warm her booted toes. She had little idea of the direction he might be taking, and wondered if the poor weather conditions had anything to do with his being late. If that were so, perhaps she owed him an apology. But why should she apologise? she argued with herself. He hadn't!

The car smelt pleasantly of leather and tobacco-not cigarette tobacco, but something cleaner, rather a nice smell, she decided. It was incredibly untidy, with sc.r.a.ps of paper and old magazines stuffed into the flaps in the door and down between the seats. A heavy, rubber-bound torch and a roll of string resided on the parcel shelf, and two empty beer cans nudged her feet. It was nothing like the Rolls she might have expected a wealthy man to favour, and she wondered again whether she had been mad to accept him on trust.

The lights of shop windows were rea.s.suringly distracting, and noticing her attention, her companion spoke again. "This is Fishguard," he remarked lazily. "Did you know? And although you can't see anything this evening, there's quite a view over the Bay from this headland. Down below us is what they call Lower Fishguard.

Have you heard of it?" Julie shook her head, and he went on: "I thought you might have done. It's the old port. They filmed Dylan Thomas's Under Milk Wood there. Richard Burton stirred a few hearts, so I've heard."

Julie was intrigued in spite of herself. "I didn't know."

"No. Well, perhaps you are a bit young at that"

Julie let that go, and he glanced her way again.

"Aren't you going to tell me how old you are?" he enquired mockingly. "Young women usually do, and older women usually don't."

"And you've known both, I suppose!"

"In my time," he conceded lightly. "You're a p.r.i.c.kly little thing, aren't you, Miss Wood? I had thought it was all to do with your feelings over my son, but I'm beginning to think he was only an excuse."

Julie sighed, realising the truth in what he said. But still she couldn't allow him to get away with all of it. "You seem to be forgetting the fact that all this is strange to me. Leaving home, coming here-waiting hours on the station!"

"Hours, is it?" All of a sudden he sounded very Welsh, and she liked it "I was twenty-nine minutes late at the very most. And had it not been for William throwing an attack before I left, I would have been here before you.'

"William?" She turned to him. "He had an attack? But why?"

"He wanted to come with me to meet you, why else?"

"And you wouldn't let him?"

"No, I wouldn't let him."

Julie's nails curled into her palms. "Surely you could have permitted him to come along?" she exclaimed. "What possible objection could you have to that?"

Rhys Llewellyn's profile had hardened. "I don't have toexplain my actions to you, Miss Wood."

"No, you don't." Julie swung round in her seat now. "But I think you're unnecessarily harsh with the boy.'

"I'd gathered that. However, as he's just recovering from a severe attack of bronchitis, I hardly consider driving fifty-odd miles in these conditions a suitable method of recuperation."

Julie caught her breath. "Oh!"

"As you say- oh!"

Julie sighed. "I-I'm sorry. I-I didn't know."

"How could you? Nevertheless, I would suggest you endeavour to keep your opinions objective until you know all the facts."

Julie brushed back a strand of silky hair from her forehead. The lights of the town had been left behind them now and darkness was closing in around them, only the headlights of this car and others they pa.s.sed illuminating the road ahead.

"So-so how is he, then?" she managed, into the silence that had fallen.

"As I've said-he's recovering. He's tougher than you give him credit for."

Julie bent her head. "His attacks are-frightening, though, aren't they?"

"They're distressing. Possibly more distressing for the onlooker than for William himself.'

"Do you believe that?"

"I know it." His voice had hardened again. "And the headmasters of three public schools know it, too."

Julie sighed. "Is there nothing can be done for him?"

".Yes. He can receive a little less attention than he has been doing.

Only time and determination will defeat him."

"That sounds awfully hard. What-what does your wife say?"

"My wife?" He sounded amused. "I have no wife."

"You don't?" Julie stared at him in the darkness. "But-"

"-I have a son, is that it?"

Julie turned to look out of the window at the hedges rus.h.i.+ng past. All of a sudden, she didn't want to know. But it was too late.

"Oh, come, Miss Wood," he mocked. "You belong to this liberated generation growing up in Britain at the moment. Surely you don't believe that two people need to be married to produce a child!" She did not reply, and he expelled his breath impatiently. "I'm sorry if I've offended your sensibilities, but it seems to me, Miss Wood, you've been living a singularly narrow existence. Life is not all like the plastic world inside the cathode tube. Real people don't conform to any particular pattern. They have doubts-and failings some more than others."

Julie's fingers were entwined in the strap of her handbag. "I-it's nothing to do with me," she said stiffly.

"Isn't it?" His tone was vaguely bitter. "But you are going to be living in my house, aren't you? And I don't want to see those reproachful eyes of yours following me about Yes, I knew we should have had someone older!'

"Why?" Julie was indignant "People's att.i.tudes don't always broaden with age."

"No," he agreed consideringly. "You're right, of course. Some are bigots all their lives."

"I'm not a bigot!"

"Aren't you? But you're shocked because William's a-"

"Don't say it!"

Impulsively, she stretched out her hand and touched his knee, intending to silence him. But when her fingers encountered the hard muscle of his thigh, they withdrew again with instinctive recoil. Her action brought his eyes to her again, enigmatic in the shadowy light emanating from the dash.

"What's wrong, Miss Wood? Have you never touched a man's knee before?"

"I-yes. Yes, of course I have."

"Really? So why did you draw back just now as if you'd burned yourself?"

"I'm-I'm not in the habit of touching strange men, Mr. t Llewellyn."

"I'll bet you're not!" His laugh was faintly derisory. "I just wonder how an innocent like you was allowed to leave home.'

Julie pursed her lips. "n.o.body-allowed me. I make my own decisions, Mr Llewellyn. I'm not a child. And just because I don't find illegitimacy particularly amusing it's no reason for you to make fun of me!"

"I don't find illegitimacy amusing either," he retorted, his tone roughening. "But there are worse things, believe me!"

Julie heard the conviction in his voice and wondered what had happened to make him so cynical. What manner of man was he?

What kind of life had he led to speak so convincingly of the darker side of human nature? Of what use had his money been to him?

She stared out into the darkness. For some time now they had been steadily ascending into the mountains, and the road was practically deserted. The mist was spa.r.s.er up here, and through it she glimpsed the lights of a distant farmhouse. How much further had they to go?

How much longer before they reached the comparative security of his house?

As though sensing her troubled thoughts, he suddenly spoke again, less aggressively now. "Are you hungry? I'm sorry, it's after six. But I never gave it a thought."

Julie glanced his way. "Is-is it much further?"

"About ten miles. If it hadn't been such a foul night, you'd have been able to see the lights of Cardigan Bay below us. But Abernarth is only a small fis.h.i.+ng community, and Devil's Mount stands on the cliffs about a mile and a half from the village^'

Julie nodded. "I'm looking forward to seeing it." And, amazingly, she was.

"Are you?" His response was less enthusiastic. He sighed. "There's a pub hereabouts where we can get a sandwich, if you like."

Julie shook her head. "I'm not worried if you're not." She paused. "Is there-is there anyone else living at-at Devil's Mount, besides William and yourself?"

The words came out with a rush and she saw the downward curve of his lips. "Three other adults, as a matter of fact," he stated expressionlessly.

"Oh!"- "Aren't you going to ask who they are?"

"I-it's not my place to do so."

'Tom: place!" He uttered an impatient oath. "Then let's hope you remember to keep to your place, Miss Wood."

The remainder of the journey was completed in silence, and Julie had plenty of time to ponder his strange s.h.i.+fts of mood. She did not understand him, but then she supposed she could hardly expect to do so on such short acquaintance. And yet he intrigued her. She had never met anyone quite like him before, and she realised she found their verbal sparring stimulating. He was as different from the young men she had known all her life as the jungle animal was different from its domestic counterpart, and Mark Roberts was a boy in comparison. She had never been so aware of a man before, aware of his body as well as his mind, and Rhys Llewellyn's age was no"

barrier to his undoubted sensuality. Trying to rationalise her feelings towards Him was an impossible task for one so unsophisticated, but common sense warned her that such a combination was dangerous. It was as well he was too old for her, that he considered her a child. She had no wish to find herself in the kind of position William's mother must once have experienced.

The mist was lifting as they came down the winding slope into Abernarth. The road ran for some distance beside the sea,pa.s.sing a small harbour where boats bobbed at the jetty and a group of fishermen gathered together talking. They raised their heads as the car went by, but none of them acknowledged the man beside her, and he said nothing. Whitewashed cottages which would look picturesque on a summer's afternoon huddled about a small cobbled square, and the steeple of a chapel appeared above smoking chimneys. A smell of salt invaded the car for a period and then they had turned between the cottages, following the steep incline up towards the cliffs.

Devil's Mount stood on a headland, with the sea on two sides and a rocky promontory on the third. They approached along the coast road, swinging between rusting iron gates and traversing a drive which only the drifting leaves of autumn had saved from looking derelict. The house itself was square and ugly, dark brick, in places covered in moss and creeper, with long, narrow windows reminiscent of a fortress. As Rhys Llewellyn brought the station wagon to a halt at the foot of elaborately sculpted stone steps, which curved in two halves to a small balcony before becoming a single flight leading up to the doors of the house, Julie thrust open the door and climbed out The thunderous roar of the sea was muted here, but she guessed there was no part of Devil's Mount free from the sound of its continuous motion. The air was sharp and cold, but not frosty, and overhead the clouds had rolled away to reveal a pale moon riding low in the sky.

She breathed deeply, conscious of a feeling of wellbeing, that was quickly dispelled by the sound of Rhys Llewellyn hefting her cases out of the station wagon. Nevertheless, she could not deny the sense of excitement which filled her. Whatever else this position lacked, she was convinced her life here would not be dull.

Her new employer picked up her cases and indicated the steps. "Go ahead," he said. "I'll follow."

Julie hesitated. Surely he could have left her cases for one of the servants? A house this size must Have servants, she thought impatiently. But Rhys Llewellyn was a law unto himself, and if he chose to cripple himself carrying her cases up the steps, who was she to argue with him?

Before they were halfway up the second flight, however, a door above them opened, allowing a shaft of yellow light to illuminate their progress. Looking up, Julie saw a small girl jumping about excitedly at the top of the steps, shouting: "Uncle Rhys! Uncle Rhys!

You're back!" in a high childish treble.

Julie looked over her shoulder at the man behind her and felt a reluctant sense of anxiety at the look of strain in his face. He looked positively haggard, and the smile he summoned for the child's benefit was a mere travesty. Unwillingly, she recalled that day in the hotel in London. She had thought he moved awkwardly, stiffly, then.

Obviously he had had some trouble with his back to find carrying two suitcases such an obvious ordeal.

With a feeling of embarra.s.sment, she halted and waited for him to reach her before saying: "Let me take one of those," but he shook his head, his expression darkening angrily.

"I can manage," he retorted, through thin lips. "I'm not quite useless!"

"I never thought you were."

Julie moved her shoulders dismissingly, and hastened on,up the steps.

Then she hesitated again. The little girl had now been joined by a woman, a small slender individual, with a ma.s.s of curly ash-fair hair and delicately moulded features. Her ankle-length gown of dark blue wool was edged with multi-coloured braid, and its simplicity was clearly deliberate and exclusive. Whoever she was, and Julie guessed from the resemblance that she was the child's mother, she was no servant, and her appearance was the first outward sign of indulgence she had seen.

Rhys Llewellyn had overtaken her again, and noticing her uncertainty, he said: "My sister-in-law, Nerys. Come and meet her-and Dulcie."

Julie continued on up the steps, but her feet were not so eager now.

She was recalling what William had said about Someone called Nerys, about how she did not want him, how he was in the way when she was around. What had he meant? Surely Nerys had to be Rhys Llewellyn's brother's wife. So why was she here-at Devil's Mount?

Unless his brother lived here, too. There was something about these thoughts which troubled her, something she vaguely remembered someone saying...