“Don’t take any risks or climb over rocks, do you hear?” he called from under the towel. “I don’t want to find your body lying there where you’ve slipped and hit your head.”
“No, Daniel,” I said with mock meekness, making him laugh. I laughed too then. “Do you realize that I went out almost every day over the rocks to gather seaweed when I was a child.”
His face appeared from the towel. “Yes, but I suspect you were not wearing fashionable shoes and a tight skirt in those days,” he said.
“You’re right about that. I was mostly barefoot. But don’t worry, I’ll be careful. I’ve no wish to slip and ruin my new clothes.”
So off I went. I looked toward the big house before I crossed the lawns, feeling something of an interloper. Wouldn’t the rest of the family give us the same hostile reception as Joseph Hannan when they arrived? I kept going until I came out of a group of rhododendron bushes to see the ocean below me. At this point the ground fell a sheer forty or fifty feet to rocks below. I looked for a way down but couldn’t find one. Further around the point the cliff turned into a tumble of rocks where there had been a landslide at some stage, but I wasn’t about to attempt that either in my good clothes. So I started along the cliff path, back in the direction of the town. As the path turned a corner I was rewarded with a flight of narrow steps going down the cliff, leading to a little patch of beach. I went down and found a flat rock to sit on. After looking around to make sure nobody was watching I removed my shoes and stockings, then hitched up my skirts and waded at the edge of the ocean. The feel of gentle waves running over my toes took me back to my childhood. I walked along the edge of the water, peering into rock pools, looking for crabs and starfish, delighting in gently waving anemones as I had done as a little girl.
I lost all consciousness of time or place and it was only as a big wave rushed in, catching me unawares and completely soaking the lower half of my skirt, that I realized where I was and that the tide was coming in. At the next instant I realized that I was now cut off. The narrow strip of shoreline along which I had come was now underwater. I was going to have to find a suitable spot to scramble up the cliffs. I soon realized that this was not going to be achieved in a ladylike manner. There were places when the slope was more a tumble of rocks, but it would still require serious clambering. Not that I found this as daunting as other young ladies would have done, having done more than my share of clambering.
I tried to assess exactly where I was in relation to the estate above me. I wanted to come up at a spot where I could slink to the cottage unseen. I was well aware that the members of the Hannan family were due to arrive this afternoon and I certainly didn’t want to run into any of them with my skirts sodden and probably torn by the end of the climb.
As I picked my way gingerly over the rocks, clutching my shoes and stockings, I heard a voice saying, “No, it can’t be a mermaid, can it?”
I looked up and saw a young man perched on an outcropping high above me. He was dressed in the sober suit of a city gent with a stiff collar and black ascot, but he sat on the cliff edge with his legs dangling over like a large child. The first thing I noticed about him was that he was a most attractive young man. Yes, I know I was now a married woman but one does still notice these things. He had light brown hair that waved just the right amount, a neat little brown mustache, and a good, firm jaw. He also had dark eyes that were now alight with amusement.
“Don’t tell me you have been cut off by the tide and need rescuing. How delicious. I’ve always wanted to be a hero and save a maiden in distress, but opportunities to do so have been denied to me until now.”
“Thank you, but I don’t need rescuing,” I said primly.
“Ah, but you do,” he said. “If you’re not a mermaid, and intending to swim back out to sea—and I perceive no tail—then you’ll have to climb up this cliff and will find yourself trespassing on a private estate where trespassers are shot on sight. Fortunately for you, I am a member of the family and can save you from a rapid and horrible death.”
With this he scrambled nimbly from his perch to a lower rock and then came down the rest of the way with remarkable agility to my side.
“I said I didn’t need help,” I said. “And I am afraid I’m not about to be shot either. I’m a guest on the estate, just like you.”
His face lit up. “A new family member I haven’t heard about? Has one of my disreputable cousins finally done the decent thing and married you?”
“Not at all,” I said. “I’m not connected with your family. I’m a guest of the alderman.”
He looked at me now with great speculation. “Are you now? The old dog. So he’s finally tired of widowhood and is thinking of marrying and recapturing his lost youth.”