As far as the Montague family knew, there was nothing out of the ordinary that summer of 1958. No scent of discontent. No trail of unhappiness. Nothing. That year, like every year before, they decamped to Cornwall for the whole of August. The season was over. London looked tired and more than a little ragged, like a fairground in the early hours of the morning once everyone has had their fun and returned home. Monty still considered Pendrift home even though Pamela hated it. “Too darn cold,” she complained, even when the sun smoldered in mid-August and her children complained of sunburn. Perhaps it was only natural that she missed her childhood summers in Nantucket, and there was something about Cornwall that rendered it damp, whatever the weather.
She opened the curtains and let the sunshine tumble in, irritated that she still felt cold in spite of it. She pulled on a sweater and threw a soft wrap over her shoulders. She hoped the priest had gone by now. She didn’t like the Church and she liked men of God even less; they were always trying to convert people. Pamela believed only in things she could touch, and those things she could touch were often found wanting. She looked at her watch. Monty was coming down earlier than expected, having been away for ten days on business in France. He traveled a great deal, but business was business, and Pamela had to live with his achingly long absences.
She considered her husband. No one had a bad word to say about Monty—they had enough to challenge a thesaurus when it came to her, but Monty was loved by everyone. In his youth he had been the jaunty youngest child, known affectionately by the surname that suited him so well. That name had duly stuck, so now no one ever referred to him by his real name, Robert, except for his widowed mother, Elizabeth, who lived in the dower house on the estate, heaving herself up to the big house for a grumble at every opportunity. No one was more cantakerous than Elizabeth Montague. They expected every summer to be her last, but the old girl hung on as if afraid heaven would be a place where complaining wasn’t allowed. A woman seemingly devoid of compassion, she loved Monty the best of her family. When he entered the room, her eyes would light up and the usual pallor of her cheeks would take on a blush. It was as if she saw the shadow of her beloved husband in the countenance of her son and was falling in love all over again.
Being the younger son, Monty was free of the responsibilities that came with owning Pendrift Hall. Those responsibilities had weighed heavily on Archie’s shoulders since he’d inherited the estate fourteen years before, so that he now stooped a little when he walked and often disappeared into his office for hours, where no one ever dared disturb him. Archie Montague might have appeared benign, but beneath the gentle coating a ferocious temper lay in wait for the slightest provocation. He suffered a gnawing anxiety from the pressure of maintaining such a large property and looking after all the employees who worked on it, not to mention the education of his three sons and his wife’s well-known extravagance. While Monty had always done as he pleased, Archie had had to learn about the farm and the maintenance of the family estate that had been purchased by his great grandfather in the eighteenth century. Archie had toiled on the farm with his father while his brother had whistled his way across the world, seeking pleasure in sunny countries. Then, one day Monty had returned to ask his father to lend him money to invest in a sugar venture in northern Brazil. Archie thought the idea preposterous, but Monty had a way about him. A charm that not only dazzled his mother, but enchanted his father, too. Unlike poor Archie, Monty could do no wrong. Everyone else feared the boy had lost his mind and was about to lose the Montague family fortune as well. But his parents believed in him blindly and would not hear a word of doubt from anyone. Their erratic son disappeared for a year, during which time the Montagues held their breath. He returned a rich man, and everyone was able to breathe again. Elizabeth crowed and Ivan was repaid with interest. Later, on hearing the story, Pamela was impressed by his courage. She wouldn’t have considered marrying a man who was lily-livered, nor would she have considered marrying a man who was poor.
She withdrew from the window and went downstairs, carrying Poochi like a baby. Soames was in the hall gathering the silver from the mantelpiece to polish. “Good afternoon,” he said politely, hiding his irritation. He had hoped to avoid her when she finally emerged from her room.
“Ah, Soames. I’m ravenous. Would you be very kind and bring something out for me on a tray?”
“Of course, Mrs. Bancroft Montague,” he replied.
“Has the priest gone?”
“He left over an hour ago.”
“Good. Where’s Mrs. Julia?”
“On the terrace with Mrs. Penelope.”
“And Celestria?”
“Miss Celestria is down on the beach with Miss Lotty and Miss Melissa. Master Harry is in the woods with his cousins, setting more traps.”
“Good. Poochi would like something, too. Bring him some leftover sausage. You love sausage, don’t you, sweetie. Yes, you do.” She rubbed her nose into the dog’s fur. Soames pitied the poor dog, being nuzzled like that. Her perfume alone was enough to knock anyone out.
Pamela walked through the French doors onto the terrace. Julia sat in the shade, a cigarette between her fingers, while Penelope held forth about marriage. “You’re lucky, Julia,” she was saying. “This won’t ever concern you, having only boys. But, my dear, it concerns me day and night. There are a good many scoundrels around who would be perfectly unsuitable. The trouble is, young girls love scoundrels.”
“Nothing wrong with a scoundrel, as long as he’s a rich scoundrel,” said Pamela, squinting in the sunlight. She put Poochi down, then arranged herself before sitting on the cushioned bench. “Sometimes a scoundrel is rather fun.”
“Oh, Pamela,” exclaimed Julia. “You’re only saying that to be controversial.”
“You wouldn’t want Celestria marrying a scoundrel,” interjected Penelope.
Pamela smiled the smug smile of a woman certain her daughter would marry nothing of the sort. “Oh, Celestria, I think she’s got what it takes to tame a scoundrel.” Penelope looked at Julia and rolled her eyes “Oh, I think it’s a very good thing for a man to keep a woman on her toes. There’s something kind of elusive about Monty. I might not like it, but it sure prevents me running off with somebody else!”
Before Pamela could continue, the scrunching of wheels was heard on the gravel at the front of the house. From up in the woods Purdy heard, too, and galloped off down the field, barking. A car door opened and slammed shut. A moment later, Monty appeared, his panama hat set at an angle on his head, his briefcase in his hand and the Daily Telegraph under one arm. He was smiling, his smooth brown face crinkled with merriment.
“Good day, ladies,” he said, taking off his hat. Then he strode over to where his wife lounged on the bench and bent down to kiss her. “And you, my darling. A very good day to you!”
Down on the beach, Celestria lay on the sand with her cousins. The tide was high, the sea benign, like a great lion having an afternoon snooze. Gulls circled above, resting on the cliffs that sheltered the east end of the beach, pecking at the odd crab foolish enough to have climbed out of its rock pool. The sun blazed down, making them feel sleepy. Celestria turned onto her back and put her hands behind her head.
“Do you think he’s never had sex?” she said, referring to Father Dalgliesh.
“Of course not,” replied Melissa. “If he had his vision as a boy, there wouldn’t have been time.”
“Do you think he’ll be tempted?” Lotty asked. “He’s not an old codger like Father Hancock was.”
“Definitely,” Celestria stated, remembering the way he had looked at her. “The trouble is, the unknown enemy is the most dangerous. It’s easier to fight something if you’ve tried it.”
“But he’s made vows of chastity. He can’t break them,” said Lotty. “That must be very hard on a man. After all, even he said he has weaknesses like the rest of us.”
“Shame. He’s attractive, isn’t he?” said Celestria, sighing heavily.
“You don’t really fancy him,” said Melissa.
“She just likes the challenge,” Lotty added with a giggle. “There’s no greater challenge than to win the heart of a priest.”
“That would be very cruel,” said Melissa seriously. “I hope you wouldn’t be so irresponsible, Celestria.” Both sisters knew that if anyone had the power to do it, Celestria did.
“Well, if I don’t get swept off my feet really soon, I just might have to give it a try, out of boredom. Nothing much else happens around here.”
A voice called out from the top of the path that snaked its way down the rocks from the house. They raised their eyes to see Monty, followed by Wilfrid, Sam, and Harry. Purdy bounded down in front of them, wagging his tail excitedly. Purdy loved the beach; it meant games. This afternoon it meant boating, which he adored. The girls stood up and, shielding their eyes from the sun, watched the small group approach.
Monty greeted his daughter with a big smile. “What are you three witches plotting?” He laughed, kissing her hot cheek.
“Terrible things,” replied Celestria, grinning at her cousins.
“Do you want to join us?” he asked. Although there wasn’t enough room in the boat for all of them, Monty liked to please everyone.
“Can’t think of anything worse,” said Celestria, looking at the boat lying forlornly on the dunes. It was a small red motorboat, her father’s passion. He called it Princess, and both wife and daughter believed it to be named after her.
“You’d love it if you gave it a try. Little better than sitting in the middle of the ocean with nothing to see but sky and water.”
“We’re going fishing,” said Harry, proudly showing off his rod. Monty held a bucket of live bait and the rest of the nets and rods.
Celestria peered inside the bucket and recoiled. “Don’t bring those ghastly creatures near me. I’m staying here on dry land, which is where I’m happiest!”
“Come on, boys!” Monty announced heartily. “Let’s get going. We don’t want to keep the pirates waiting.”
Monty put the rods, bucket, and nets in the boat, then, with the help of the entire group, dragged it down the beach to the sea. As the girls waved, the motor spluttered and gurgled until it finally choked into a rhythmic chug, cutting through the waves to carry Monty, the boys, and a very keen Purdy off into the dark blue sea.
It wasn’t long before they were dots on the horizon.
“I don’t like the sea,” said Celestria suddenly. “It makes me feel nervous.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Lotty. “Nothing much can go wrong. Uncle Monty’s an expert.”
“That makes no difference,” she replied gravely. “The sea’s bigger than the biggest expert. One gulp and they’re gone.”
Monty watched his daughter from the boat. Her slim, elegant shape reminded him of Pamela when she was young. They stood in the same way: thrusting their weight onto one leg, one hand confidently placed on the waist, emphasizing the feminine curve of the hip to its best advantage. They were very alike, although Celestria wasn’t so hard. She was soft, like clay ready to be molded, and the hand that styled her would decide her final texture. It wouldn’t be his hand. It never had been. He had spent too much time abroad, trying to keep all the balls in the air, trying to be everything to everyone, spreading himself so thin that sometimes, in the silence of his dreams, he was no longer sure who he really was. But now wasn’t the time to indulge in sentiment. He had three excited boys in his boat and a sea full of fish and crabs to catch. He watched until Celestria had blended into the sand, and for a moment his heart, once so carefully contained, swelled with regret. But things were now out of his control. He was no longer a free man. It was time to reap what he had sown. His gaze fell onto the water, and he was momentarily hypnotized by the murky green depths below him.
The highlight of the holiday for Celestria was her uncle Archie’s birthday party at the end of August. Julia always threw a ball in the garden and invited their friends from far and wide to dance the night away in a glorious tent she’d decorate with flowers from her own borders and greenhouses. This year was even more special because it was his fiftieth.
Celestria longed for the party. She was bored by the countryside and yearned to return to the city. She didn’t like to play tennis. The enjoyment of showing off her long legs in shorts passed quickly, and she was left with the tedium of the game. She had grown weary of sitting on the terrace with her aunts and cousins, listening to their repetitive gossip. She had spent many a morning down on the beach with Bouncy. Nanny had been grateful for the company. Celestria watched the little boy build sandcastles and play with his digger in the sand, and she understood why her mother loved Harry so much; little boys broke hearts. Later she’d learn that when they grow to be men, they break them all over again.
It was the end of the summer. Archie’s ball was only a week away. Celestria had taken to spending the evenings reading in the little secret garden that was known as Penelope’s, for when her aunt was a baby, Nanny had always put her pram there for her afternoon rest. Lying directly beneath the library window, she was suddenly drawn out of Frenchman’s Creek by the sound of her father’s voice. He was talking to Julia, who sounded as if she was crying.
“He’s in terrible trouble. Oh, I do hate to burden you with it all, dear Monty, but I didn’t know whom to turn to.”
“I’m glad you felt you could come to me.”
“You’re such a good man.” She emphasized the word good so that it weighed heavily with all sorts of connotations. Celestria knew she was thinking of her mother.
“How much trouble is he in?”
Julia sighed heavily. Celestria leaned back against the wall like a spy and dared to peek in through the window. Her father had lit a cigar and was standing against the far windowsill on the other side of the room. His voice, firm and confident, seemed to soothe Julia’s anxiety.
“Well, the farm was doing very well,” she continued with a sniff. “But you know Archie, he’s always had one eye on the City. He felt it wasn’t wise to have all his eggs in one basket, so he decided to put some of them into equities.”
Monty nodded gravely.
“He made some bad investments. Then he bought some of Tom Pritchett’s land, adjacent to ours, in order to expand the farm. He borrowed money, and now, well, he’s having trouble paying it all back. I think the interest is high and what with taxation.” She sank onto the sofa and began to cry again.
Celestria was aghast. It was horrid to see Julia, usually so cheerful, now crumpling with despair. She’d had no idea her aunt and uncle were strapped for cash. Well, she thought, Papa will put it all right. He’s got pots of money.
Monty crossed the room and sat down beside Julia. “Don’t worry, Julia, old girl,” he said, smiling. “I’ll sort it all out for you. First, let me pay for Archie’s party. I know how much these things cost. It would be a pleasure, but must also be our secret. I’d hate Archie to know. He’s a proud man.”
“I’ll pay it all back…”
“Consider it a gift. After all, you entertain me and my family here at Pendrift every summer; it’s the very least we can do.” Julia sat up and took a deep breath, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.
“Thank you, Monty. I knew I could rely on you. You’re always there, a wonderful knight in shining armor. What would we do without you? You’re a real brick.”
“You’re a splendid woman, Julia. A terrific wife and mother. I’m glad you felt you could ask.”
“I know Archie would hate me to sneak about behind his back. But I’m desperate. I can’t stand to see him so burdened. It depresses him, weighs him down as if he’s carrying this heavy backpack all the time, full of unpleasant worries.” She smiled affectionately as she reminisced. “He was very different when I married him. Of course, when one is young, one believes one is invincible, and he never anticipated inheriting Pendrift until he was an old man. He certainly never realized it would be such a load. We all imagined Ivan would last forever. He might have a ghastly temper at times. I’ve never minded that. It’s the troubled silence that sends alarm bells ringing. I’d far rather he tore the place apart in fury than fumed alone in his study. I can’t reach him there, you see.” She sighed and placed her hand on her brother-in-law’s arm. “I do love him so very much. I just want my old friend back. I know you understand.”
“I do. More than you know. And I want to do all I can to help.”
“I won’t ask again, I promise.”
“You can ask as often as you like. You’re family, and family must stick together.”
There was a noise from the hall. Julia jumped to her feet and smoothed down her blouse. “Goodness, that’s Nanny with Bouncy. They must be back from the beach.” Before she hurried out she turned. “Our secret,” she repeated, smiling at him gratefully.
Celestria remained by the window, watching her father. He slouched back into the sofa and crossed one leg over the other. He continued to puff on his cigar, toying with it between his fingers and staring through the thin curl of smoke that wafted into the air. His eyes grew lazy, his thoughts far away, his face unusually solemn. She longed to know what he was thinking. Why he looked so grim. He didn’t look himself at all. Suddenly she felt uncomfortable spying on him like that, eavesdropping and hearing things she was not supposed to. She retreated to her book and soon forgot all about it.
Instead of reading, she considered Archie’s birthday party. She had two options of dress; one was pale blue silk, which brought out the color of her eyes, and the other dusty pink with a dashing red sash, which emphasized her small waist. The decision was agonizing. After all, Julia had invited the Wilmotte boys, who were all holidaying in Rock, and, if she remembered rightly, Dan Wilmotte was rather debonair.