Page 11 of The Cornish Inheritance

“Dash and I,” Caroline corrected.

The rugged stone walls to either side of the path had fallen back by now and instead they were walking through the start of the sandhills. From up ahead came a distant roar, and a tantalizing smell Caroline didn’t recognize. She’d read about the sea and beaches in books, and glimpsed it from afar on her coach journey down to Cornwall, but this would be the first time she’d seen it up close.

The path underfoot turned from solid to soft sand, the gentle rises bedecked with grass resembling long green needles that blew and rattled in the breeze. A breeze which snatched at Caroline’s large bonnet as though it were a sail.

Yves raced on ahead with Dash, disappearing from sight between the hummocks, and Caroline hurried her steps, which was difficult on the soft sand that gave beneath every step. She was supposed to be looking after Yves, and that meant keeping him in view the whole time, surely?

As she emerged from the sandhills, she caught her breath in astonishment. Before her opened a vista such as she’d never imagined could exist. The golden expanse of a huge beach stretched to left and right, edged for most of its extent by the same rolling sandhills as she’d just negotiated. In the far distance, or so it seemed, the sea rolled white-capped waves up the beach, and to right and left, at the opposing ends of this wonder, tall cliffs rose toward twin rocky headlands.

“Good heavens.”

Hetty caught up with her. “Yes, it is rather striking, isn’t it?”

Caroline nodded. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s… so huge.”

Yves and Dash were already pelting across the sand toward the sea. A sudden worry overcame Caroline. “We’d best follow him. How safe is the sea?”

Hetty wrinkled her nose. “Like this, I believe it’s safe enough. But ask not if the sea is safe, but rather, can we trust Yves not to get completely wet. Come along, we’d better run.”

Beyond the hot, dry sand, a wide line of dark seaweed separated it from the wet sand. Once they’d stepped over that, they could run more easily. They caught Yves up on the sea’s edge, where he was pulling off his boots and stockings while Dash splashed about in the shallows, biting at bits of bobbing seaweed. As Yves had sat down in what almost amounted to shallow water, he was already halfway to being wet all over.

Hetty picked up his boots and tucked his stockings inside them.

“Don’t go in too far,” Caroline cautioned, not liking the size of the waves that kept on coming, one after another, like some relentless threat.

Yves paid little attention, but ran into the sea, squealing with delight and kicking up a spray of water, his little dog joining in the fun.

The next wave ran in across the sand, diminishing as it came, and threatened to soak Caroline’s feet. She and Hetty retreated out of its reach.

“I think the tide is starting to come in,” Hetty said.

“Is it always like this?”

“The tide’s on the turn,” Hetty explained. “It’s low tide at the moment, but Miss Hawkins told me it ebbs and flows with the moon. It’ll reach that line of seaweed we had to step over when it does, but it’ll take six hours to do that.”

Caroline had read about tides but never seen one, nor had one explained to her. “Are you sure we’re safe?”

Hetty nodded. “It comes in very slowly. I like it better when it’s in, for the waves are so much bigger. Quite splendid to stand and watch. Like so many white horses galloping up the beach.”

Caroline wasn’t sure she would agree with Hetty on that, but it might be interesting to come down here and see for herself what it was like when the tide was in.

Yves had ventured out a bit further and was now knee deep, the legs of his skeleton suit soaked to a darker blue. As each wave rolled toward him, he did a little leap over it, and Dash was now swimming. There was no denying that the sea was a thing of excitement for a child. Had she still been a child herself, she might have wanted to emulate Yves.

However, just at that moment, a much bigger wave rolled in, and this time it caught Yves as he jumped, wetting him to the chest and bowling him over. He floundered for a moment, and his head went under as a second wave followed the first.

Hetty gave a little scream, clapping a gloved hand to her mouth.

Caroline couldn’t afford to hesitate. Instead, she hitched up her skirts and ran into the waves, the chill of the water, even though it was summer, a shock on her legs. The sand under her feet felt unstable, as though it were being sucked back out to sea, and as another wave rushed in, she lost sight of Yves for one heart stopping moment.

There was the dog, swimming still, but where was its owner?

Yves’s blonde head, darkened by the water, bobbed up only a few yards distant. She seized him by the arm and heaved him upright, sheltering him from the next wave with her body. Now she was soaked to well above the waist as well. Snatching him up in her arms and holding him pressed to her chest, she struggled back to dry land with him, much hampered by her soaked gown and the fact that he was wriggling. He was also heavier than he looked.

Hetty, hopping from one foot to the other just out of reach of the waves, was still holding Yves’s footwear. “Is he all right? Yves, you know you shouldn’t go in that far. You’re too small.”

Yves struggled with renewed determination in Caroline’s arms. “Put me down, please. I’m quite all right.”

Caroline set him on the sand, completely soaked, just as she was. Dash bounded out of the water to join them and gave himself a vigorous shake, spraying Hetty, who leapt back with a squawk.

Yves pushed his wet hair out of his eyes, a grin spreading across his face. “That was such fun! Just like Robinson Crusoe. I’m going to pretend I’ve been washed up on a desert island, like he was. Only the natives have rescued me. That’s you two. But you’re friendly natives, which is good.” He did a little dance of glee, oblivious to his waterlogged state. “Caroline, you can be Miss Tuesday, as today is Tuesday, and Hetty can be Miss Wednesday. Just like Man Friday.” He glanced down at his dog, who gave another shake. “And Dash can be Dog Saturday.”

“You’re both awfully wet,” Hetty said, with a hint of wistfulness. “I’d like to paddle in the sea, but Mama says I’m not allowed to. It’s not ladylike.” She eyed Caroline up and down. “And now I see why.”

Caroline smoothed her wet skirts down. This was awful, and despite the heat of the day, she was now cold, so Yves must be as well. Only her first day and she’d nearly let her small charge be washed out to sea before her eyes. And now she was going to have to go back to Roskilly looking like a drowned rat, and so was he. Although perhaps they both might dry off a bit first.

Dash gave a warning bark. He was staring down the beach at the rapidly approaching figure of a rider. A man astride a sturdy bay cob.