Devil in Spring

“I’ve seen one of these in pictures,” Pandora said regarding the contraption dubiously, “but I’ve never been inside one.”

“We never use it, unless we have a guest who insists. Then we have to hitch up a horse to pull it out to waist-deep water, and the lady steps into the ocean on the other side, so no one can see. It’s a lot of bother, and rather silly, since a bathing costume covers just as much as an ordinary dress.” Seraphina opened the door of the bathing-machine. “You can take off your things in there.”

Pandora went into the bathing-machine, which had been supplied with shelves and a row of hooks, and removed her robe, stockings, and canvas slippers. As she emerged into the sunshine dressed in the bathing costume with its short skirt and trousers, and her feet and ankles bare, she turned as red as if she were naked. To her relief, Gabriel had gone to help with the kite, and was standing at a distance with the two boys.

Seraphina smiled, brandishing a small tin pail. “Let’s go look for shells.”

As they headed toward the ocean, Pandora was amazed by the feeling of sun-warmed sand conforming to her soles and slipping up between her toes. Closer to the water, the sand became firm and moist. She stopped to glance back at the trail of footprints behind her. Experimentally she hopped forward on one foot for a few yards, and turned to view her tracks.

Soon Justin ran to them with something clasped in his cupped hands, while Ajax trotted at his heels. “Pandora, put out your hand!”

“What is it?”

“A hermit crab.”

Cautiously she extended her hand, and the boy deposited a round object into her palm, a shell no bigger than the tip of her thumb. Slowly a set of miniature claws emerged, followed by thread-like antennae and black pinhead eyes.

Pandora inspected the tiny creature closely before handing it back to Justin. “Are there many of them in the water?” she asked. Although one hermit crab by itself was rather adorable, she wouldn’t care to go wading with a consortium of them.

A shadow crossed over her, and a pair of bare masculine feet came into her vision. “No,” came Gabriel’s reassuring reply, “they live under rocks and shingle on the far side of the cove.”

“Mama says I have to put him back later,” Justin said. “But first I’m going to build a sandcastle for him.”

“I’ll help,” Seraphina exclaimed, kneeling to fill the tin pail with wet sand. “Go fetch the other pails and spades by the bathing-machine. Pandora, will you join us?”

“Yes, but . . .” Pandora glanced at the waves surging and breaking on the shore in tumbles of foam. “First I’d like to go exploring a little, if I may.”

“Of course.” Seraphina was using both hands to load sand into the pail. “You certainly don’t need to ask for my consent.”

Pandora was both amused and chagrined. “After a year of Lady Berwick’s instructions, I feel as if I should have permission from someone.” She glanced at Phoebe, who was at least a dozen yards away, looking out at the ocean. Obviously the woman couldn’t have cared less about what Pandora was doing.

Gabriel followed her gaze. “You have Phoebe’s permission,” he said dryly. “Let me walk with you.”

Still feeling shy from their earlier encounter, Pandora accompanied him across the cool, compacted sand. Her senses were overwhelmed by a deluge of sight, sound, and sensation. Every breath filled her lungs with vibrant, living air and left the taste of salt spindrift on her lips. Farther out, the ocean rolled in wind-harried billows, trimmed with ruffles of white foam. Pausing to stare out at the vast blue infinity, she tried to imagine what might be concealed in its mysterious depths, shipwrecks and whales and exotic creatures, and a pleasant shiver went through her. She bent to pick up a tiny cup-shaped shell that had been partially embedded in the sand, and rubbed her thumb across its rough gray-striped surface. “What is this?” she asked, showing it to Gabriel.

“A limpet.”

She found another shell, round and ridged. “And this? Is it a scallop?”

“A cockleshell. You can tell the difference by looking at the hinge-line. A scallop has a triangle on each side.”

As Pandora collected more shells—whelks, a winkle, mussels—she gave them to Gabriel, who carried them for her in one of his trouser pockets. She noticed he had rolled the hems of his trousers to the middle of his calves, which were lightly dusted with glinting tawny fleece.

“Do you have a bathing-suit?” she dared to ask shyly.

“Yes, but it’s not for mixed company.” At her questioning glance, Gabriel explained, “A man’s bathing-suit isn’t like the ones Ivo and Justin are wearing. It consists of flannel trunks that tie at the waist with a string. Once they’re wet, they leave so little to the imagination that a man may as well wear nothing at all. Most of us at the estate don’t bother with them when we go for a swim.”

“You swim naked?” Pandora asked, so flustered that a shell dropped from her lax fingers.

Gabriel bent to retrieve it. “Not with ladies present, of course.” He smiled at her pink face. “I usually go in the mornings.”

“The water must be like ice.”

“It is. But there are benefits to a cold ocean swim. Among other things, it stimulates the circulation.”

The idea of him swimming without a stitch on had certainly affected her circulation. She wandered to the water’s edge where the sand was glossy. It was too wet to leave a footprint: As soon as she took another step, silt flowed into the depression. A wave rolled in and thinned until it reached her toes. She started at the biting cold of it but took a few steps forward. The next surge flooded over her ankles and almost up to her knees in a rush of chilling, bubbling lightness. She gave a little squeal and a surprised laugh at the feel of it. The wave slackened, its forward momentum halting.