It was the whisper that started their war. That's how many
at the table that evening would recall the summer of 1914.
Naturally, Victoria hadn't even noticed the waiter until
then. In their black uniforms, the resort staff slipped about unobtrusively,
meeting one's needs without being obvious. Without really existing. It wasn't
until he boldly bent over her grandmother's right shoulder and whispered in her
ear that Victoria thought how handsome he was. And then realized with a shock
that he was the trespasser who had spied her swimming naked yesterday.
He'd sported casual white trousers and shirt, his sleeves
rolled up as if he'd just finished a winning set in tennis. He'd perched on the
rock and begun scribbling on a pad of paper.
"What the devil are you doing?" she had demanded,
immersing herself up to her chin in the chilly lake, but wondering if the
crystal clear water provided much cover.
With a massive granite slab sliding into the lake next to
a broad crescent of pale sand, this was Victoria's favourite place on the
island, which she called "The Shimmering Sands". The others never bothered to
come to the north end, preferring to swim in the bay behind the house at the
point. But Victoria hated the confining bathing costumes, and would sneak away
to indulge in the luxury of stripping off everything and allowing the silky
water to caress her.
Unusually flustered, she had challenged, "And who the hell
are you anyway?"
"My, my, what language! I thought I was in the presence of
a lady," he had replied with a mocking grin.
"You, sir, are obviously no gentleman!"
He had winked at her, and continued to draw, occasionally
examining her as one might a captured butterfly.
"What are you doing? Kindly take your leave!"
"I believe I'm sketching a water nymph."
"You are trespassing!"
"Am I?"
"If you are a guest of one of my cousins, I'll have him
banish you as an ill-mannered lout!"
Although her cheeks had burned with embarrassment and
frustration at her helpless situation, Victoria had become thoroughly chilled.
The lake had not warmed up yet, despite the recent heat wave. Indeed, the ice
had only been out for a handful of weeks.
He had seemed unperturbed by her anger, even amused by
it. The nerve of the man!
His nonchalance had just added to his attractiveness.
Under different circumstances, Victoria would have delighted in flirting with
him.
But her skin had prickled with cold and she had been in no
mood for games. "I'll give you one last chance to leave!"
"Indeed? And then what?" He had stopped sketching and
regarded her with amusement.
"I will swim back to the cottage and make a scene, and
then you won't be so cocky," she had bluffed, knowing that she would suffer the
consequences of her indiscretion. Proper young ladies didn't swim naked, even
if there were only loons and chipmunks for company.
He had laughed, a delightful, appreciative laugh that rang
out through the woods. And when he'd stood up, he'd ripped off the sheet of
paper and placed it on the rock. "A scene I should like to witness. But you are
quite right, Miss Wyndham," he had said with a courtly nod. "I have to admit
that it's been a great pleasure to make your acquaintance."
With that he had turned and sauntered off towards the
north shore, leaving Victoria fuming. "Cad!" she had shouted, and had heard a
faint chuckle in reply.
She had emerged warily from the water, dressed quickly,
and stretched out to bask on the glittering, sun-warmed rock. When her anger
had been replaced by curiosity, she had picked up the abandoned sketch and been
impressed by the masterful strokes that depicted a spirited young woman with a
sensuality that surprised her. She had secreted the drawing in her skirt
pocket.
Upon her return to the cottage, Victoria had discovered
that her cousins hadn't invited any friends, and decided to tell no one about
the intriguing stranger just yet. She preferred to keep him to herself, to
ponder him at her leisure.
It wasn't unusual that he should have guessed her name.
The Wyndhams were well known on the lake, and he must have realized he'd been
on their island. She'd wondered if he'd dare to return to the Shimmering Sands,
or whether she would soon meet him at some soiree or dance. She was determined
to have the upper hand at their next encounter.
But now here he was, making her grandmother blanch. The
old lady carefully laid down her knife and fork, and turned deliberately to
look at him. He did not flinch under her steely gaze, but merely stared back at
her with a self-confidence that Victoria's father would term impudence.
Victoria sensed the others - her aunts, uncles, and cousins - holding their
breath in anticipation of a lacerating reprimand.
But Grandmother's eyes softened, and she said to the
waiter, "You do that," before resuming her meal.
"What the dickens was that about?" Victoria's uncle,
Albert, demanded. "What did the fellow want? What impertinence! I'll talk to
the management and have the scoundrel dismissed!"
"Do be quiet, Albert," Grandmother said. "You have the bad
manners of asking a question and then not allowing one to respond."
"That's rich! That boor has the audacity to address his
betters without a by-your-leave, and you don't care to do anything about it,
but find fault with me instead!"
Victoria's father, James, ignoring his younger brother's
outburst, said calmly, "Really, Mother, what was that fellow on about? You
can't mean to leave us in suspense."
"Time will tell. And that is all I have to say on the
subject this evening."
As if a royal edict had been declared, Albert, exhaling
the breath of unvoiced thoughts, shut his mouth and looked disgruntled. The
others slowly took up the dropped threads of previous conversations, although
it was evident that all they really wanted to discuss was that odd little
scene.
Victoria looked discreetly around, but couldn't see the
waiter, and wondered if someone in authority had noticed his breech of conduct
and dismissed him. She was surprised that he was, indeed, no gentleman. But
Grandmother's astonishing reaction meant that there was something enticingly
mysterious about him. How annoying of her to keep them guessing! ...
The Summer Before The Storm continues for another
545 pages.
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