The Moon out of Reach

by Margaret Pedler

  CHAPTER XV

  KING ARTHUR'S CASTLE

  The first person whom Nan encountered on her return from Trenby Hallwas Mrs. Seymour. The latter's eyebrows lifted quizzically.

  "Well?" she asked. "How did it go?"

  "It didn't 'go' at all!" answered Nan. "I was enveloped in anatmosphere of severe disapproval. In fact, I think Lady Gertrudeconsiders I require quite a long course of training before I'm fittedto be Roger's wife."

  "Nonsense!" Kitty smiled broadly.

  "Seriously"--nodding. "Apparently the kind of wife she really wantsfor him is a combination of the doormat and fetch-and-carry person whoalways stays at home, and performs her wifely and domestic duties in aspirit of due subservience."

  "She'll live and learn, then, my dear, when she has you for adaughter-in-law," commented Kitty drily.

  "I think I'm a bit fed up with 'in-laws,'" returned Nan a triflewearily. "I'll go out and walk it off. Or, better still, lend me yourbike, Kitty, and I'll just do a spin to Tintagel. By the time I'veclimbed up to King Arthur's Castle, I'll feel different. It alwaysmakes me feel good to get to the top of anywhere."

  "But, my dear, it's five o'clock already! You won't have time to gothere before dinner."

  "Yes, I shall," persisted Nan. "Half an hour to get there--easily! Anhour for the castle, half an hour for coming back, and then just timeenough to skip into a dinner-frock. . . . I must go, really, Kitten,"she went on with a note of urgency in her voice. "That appallingdrawing-room at Trenby and almost equally appalling dining-room havegot into my system, and I want to blow the germs away." Shegesticulated expressively.

  "All right, you ridiculous person, take my bicycle then," replied Kittygood-humouredly. "But what will you do when you have to _live_ inthose rooms?"

  "Why, I shall alter them completely, of course. I foresee myselfmaking the Hall 'livable in' throughout the first decade of my marriedexistence!"--with a small grimace of disgust.

  A few minutes later Nan was speeding along the road to Tintagel, thecool air, salt with brine from the incoming tide, tingling against herface.

  In less than the stipulated half-hour she had reached the village--thatbleak, depressing-looking village, with its miscellany of dull littlehouses, through which one must pass, as through some dreary gateway, toreach the wild, sea-girt beauty of the coast itself. Leaving her cyclein charge at a cottage, Nan set out briskly on foot down the steep hillthat led to the shore. She was conscious of an imperative need formovement. She must either cycle, or walk, or climb, in order to keepat bay the nervous dread with which her visit to Trenby had inspiredher. It had given her a picture of Roger's home and surroundings--abrief, enlightening glimpse as to the kind of life she might lookforward to when she had married him.

  It was all very different from what she had anticipated. Even Rogerhimself seemed different in the environment of his home--lessspontaneous, less the adoring lover. Lady Gertrude's influenceappeared to dominate the whole house and everyone in it. But, as Nanrealised, she had given her promise to Roger, and too much hung on thatpromise for her to break it now--Penelope's happiness, and her owncraving to shut herself away in safety, to bind herself so that shecould never again break free.

  Her unexpected meeting with Peter the previous evening had shown heronce and for all the imperative need for this. The clasp of his hand,the strong hold of his arms about her as he bore her across the stream,the touch of his lips against her hair--the memory of these things hadbeen with her all night. She had tried to thrust them from her, butthey refused to be dismissed. More than once she had buried her hotface in the coolness of the pillows, conscious of a sudden tremulousthrill that ran like fire through all her veins.

  And that Peter, too, knew they stood on dangerous quicksands when theywere alone together, she was sure. This morning, beyond abriefly-worded greeting at breakfast, he had hardly spoken to her,carefully avoiding her, though without seeming to do so, until herdeparture to Trenby Hall made it no longer necessary. She hoped hewould not stay long at Mallow. It would be unbearable to meet him dayafter day--to feel his eyes resting upon her with the same cool gravityto which he had compelled them this morning, to pretend that he and shemeant no more to one another than any two other chance guests at acountry house.

  Nan's thoughts drove her swiftly down the steep incline which descendedtowards the cove and, arriving at its foot, she stopped, as everyonemust, to obtain the key of the castle from a near-by cottage. The olddame who gave her the key--accepting a shilling in exchange withvoluble gratitude--impressed upon her the urgent necessity forreturning it on her way back.

  "If you please, lady, I've lost more than one key with folks forgettin'to return them," she explained.

  "I won't forget," Nan assured her, and forthwith started to make herway to the top of the great promontory on which stands all that stillremains of King Arthur's Castle--the fallen stones of an ancientchapel, and a ruined wall enclosing a grassy space where sheep browsepeacefully.

  Quitting the cottage and turning to the left, she bent her stepstowards a footbridge spanning a gap in the cliff side and, pausing atthe bridge, let her eyes rest musingly on the great, mysterious openingpicturesquely known as Merlin's Cave. The tide was coming in fast, andshe could hear the waves boom hollowly as they slid over its stonyfloor, only to meet and fight the opposing rush of other waves from thefurther end--since what had once been the magician's cave was now asubterranean passage, piercing right through the base of the headland.

  For a while Nan loitered on the bridge, gazing at the wild beauty ofthe scene--the sombre cove where the inrushing waves broke in a smotherof spume on the beach, and above, to the left, the wind-scarred,storm-beaten crag rising sheer and wonderful out of the turbulent seaand crowned by those ancient walls about which clung so much of legendand romance.

  Perhaps the magic of old Merlin's enchantments still lingered there,for as Nan stood silently absorbing the mysterious glamour of theplace, the petty annoyances of the day, the fret of Lady Gertrude'sunwelcoming reception of her, seemed to dwindle into insignificance.They were only external things, after all. They could not mar theloveliness of this mystic, legend-haunted corner of the world.

  At length, with a faint sigh of regret, she crossed the bridge andwalked slowly up a path which appeared to be little more than a roughtrack hewn out of the rocky side of the cliff itself, uneven and strewnwith loose stones. Nan picked her steps gingerly. At the top of thetrack her way turned sharply at right angles to where a narrowridge--so narrow that two people could not walk it abreast--led toTintagel Head. It was the merest neck of land, very steep on eitherhand, like a slender bridge connecting what the Cornish folk generallyspeak of as "the Island" with the mainland.

  Nan proceeded to cross the narrow ridge. She was particularlysurefooted as a rule, her supple body balancing itself instinctively.But to-day, for the first time, she felt suddenly nervous as she nearedthe crag and, glancing downward, caught sight of the sullen billowsthundering far below on either side. Perhaps the events of the day hadfrayed her nerves more than she knew. It was only by an effort thatshe dismissed the unaccustomed sensation of malaise which had assailedher and determinedly began the ascent to the castle by way of a seriesof primitively rough-hewn steps. They were slippery and uneven, wornand polished by the tread of the many feet which had ascended anddescended them, and guarded only by a light hand-rail that seemedalmost to quiver in her grasp as, gripped by another unexpected rush offear, Nan caught at it in feverish haste.

  She stood quite still--suddenly panic-stricken. Here, half-way up theside of the steep promontory, the whole immensity of the surroundingheight and depth came upon her in a terrifying flash of realisation.From below rose the reiterated boom of the baulked waves, each thudagainst the base of the great crag seeming to shake her whole being,while, whichever way she looked, menacing headlands towered stark andpitiless above the sea. She felt like a fly on the wall of someabysmal depth--only without the fly'
s powers of adhesion.

  Very carefully she twisted her body sideways, intending to retrace hersteps, but in an instant the sight of the surging waters--miles andmiles below, as it seemed--sent her crouching to the ground. She couldnot go back! She felt as though her limbs were paralysed, and she knewthat if she attempted to descend some incalculable force would driveher straight over the edge, hurtling helplessly to the foot of thoserugged cliffs.

  For a moment she closed her eyes. Only by dogged force of will couldshe even retain her present position, half crouching, half lying on theill-matched steps. It almost seemed as though some power were drawingher, compelling her to relax her muscles and slide down, down intothose awful depths. Then the memory of a half-caught phrase she hadoverheard flashed across her mind: "If you feel giddy, always look up,not down." As though in obedience to some inner voice, she opened hereyes and looked up to where, only a few battered steps above, she couldsee the door of the castle.

  If she could only make it! Rising cautiously to her knees she crawledup one more step and rested a moment, digging her fingers into thecrevices of the rock and finding a precarious foothold against aprojecting ledge. Keeping her eyes fixed upon the door she scrambledup a few inches further, then paused again, exhausted with the strain.

  Two more steps remained. Two more desperate efforts, while she foughtthe hideous temptation to look downwards. For an instant she almostlost all knowledge of what she was doing. Guided only by instinct--theinstinct of self-preservation--her eyes still straining painfully inthat enforced upward gaze, she at last reached the door.

  With a strangled sob of relief she knelt up against it and inserted thebig iron key, with numbed fingers turning it in the lock. The heavydoor opened, and Nan clung to it with both hands till it had swung backsufficiently to admit her. Then, from the security of the castleitself, she pushed it to and locked it on the inside, as the old womanat the cottage had bidden her, thrusting the key into the pocket of hersports coat.

  She was safe! Around her were the walls of the ancient castle--wallsthat seemed almost part of the solid rock itself standing betwixt herand that horrible abyss below! . . . Her limbs gave way suddenly andshe toppled over in a dead faint, lying in a little crumpled heap atthe foot of the wall.

  It was very quiet up there within King Arthur's Castle. The touristswho, mayhap, had visited it earlier in the day were gone; no one wouldcome again to-night to disturb the supreme stillness. The wan cry ofthe gulls drifted eerily across the sea. Once an enquiring sheepapproached the slim young body lying there, stirless and inert, andsniffed at it, then moved away again and lay down to chew the cud.

  The golden disc of the sun dropped steadily lower in the sky. . . .

  * * * * * *

  "Nan's very late."

  Mrs. Seymour made the statement rather blankly. Dinner had beenannounced and the house-party were gathered together in the hall roundthe great hearth fire. The summer day had chilled to a cool evening,as so often happens by the sea, and the ruddy flames diffused a cheeryglow of warmth.

  "Perhaps Lady Gertrude is keeping her to dinner," said Lord St. John."It's very probable." As he spoke he held out his hands to thefire--withered old hands that looked somehow frailer than their wont.

  Kitty shook her head.

  "No. She--I don't think she enjoyed her visit overmuch, and, when shecame back she went out cycling--to 'work it off,'" she said.

  "Where did she go?" inquired Penelope.

  "To Tintagel. I told her she wouldn't have time enough to get thereand back before dinner. Never mind. We'll begin, and I'll ordersomething to be kept hot for her."

  Accordingly they all adjourned to the dining-room and dinner proceededin its usual leisurely fashion, although the gay chatter that generallyaccompanied it was absent. Everyone seemed conscious of a certainuneasiness.

  "I wish young Nan would come back," remarked Barry at last, looking upabruptly from the fish he was dissecting. A shade of anxiety cloudedhis lazy blue eyes. "I hope she's not come a cropper down one of theseconfounded hills."

  He voiced the restless feeling of suspense which was beginning topervade the whole party.

  "What time did she start, Kit?" he went on.

  "About five o'clock, I should think, or soon after."

  "Then she'd have had loads of time to get back by now."

  The general tension took the form of a sudden silence. Then PeterMallory spoke, very quietly:

  "She didn't propose going up to the castle, did she?" In spite of itsquietness his voice had a certain clipped sound that drove home thesignificance of his question.

  "Yes, she did." Kitty tried to reassure herself. "But she's assurefooted as a deer. We all went up the other day and Nan was by farthe best climber amongst us."

  Almost simultaneously Peter and Barry were on their feet.

  "Something may have happened, all the same," said Barry with concern."She might have sprained her ankle--or--or anything."

  He turned to the servant nearest him.

  "Tell Atkinson to get the car round and to be quick about it."

  "Very good, sir." And the man disappeared on his errand.

  In a moment the thought that a possible accident might have befallenNan broke up the party. Kitty and Penelope hurried off in quest ofrugs and sandwiches and brandy--anything that might be of service,while the men drew together, conversing in low voices while they waitedfor the car.

  "You'll find her, Barry?" St. John's voice shook a little. "You'llbring her back safe?"

  "I'll bring her back." Barry laid kindly hands on the old man'sshoulders which had seemed suddenly to stoop as though beneath aburden. "Don't worry. I expect she's only had some trifling mishap.Burst a tyre probably and is walking back."

  St. John's look of acute anxiety relaxed a little.

  "I hope so," he muttered, "I hope so."

  A servant opened the door.

  "The car's waiting, sir."

  "Good." Barry strode into the hall, Mallory following him.

  "Barry, I must go with you," he said hoarsely.

  In the blaze of the electric light the two men looked hard into eachother's faces. Then Barry nodded.

  "Right. I'll leave the chauffeur behind and drive myself. We musthave plenty of room at the back in case Nan's hurt." He paused, thenheld out his hand. "I'm damned sorry, old man."

  "I suppose Kitty told you?"

  "Yes. She told me."

  "I think I'm rather glad you know," said Peter simply.

  Then, hurrying into their coats, the two men ran out to the car and amoment later they were tearing along the road, their headlights blazinglike angry stars beneath the calm, sweet light of the moon overhead.

  The old dame who kept the keys of the castle rose from her supper asthe honk, honk of a motor-horn broke on her startled ears. Peopledidn't come to visit the castle at this time of night! But the purr ofthe engine outside her cottage, and the long beams of light flungseawards by the headlights, brought her quickly to the door.

  "We want a key--for the castle," shouted Barry, while to expeditematters Peter sprang out of the car and went to the floor of thecottage.

  "The key!" he cried out.

  She extended her hand, thinking he had brought one back.

  "Ah, I knew I'd missed one," she said. She shook a lean forefinger athim reprovingly: "So 'twas you run off with it! I'm obliged to you forbringing it again, sir. I couldn't rightly remember whether 'twas ayoung lady or gentleman who'd had it. There's so many comes for a keyand--"

  "It was a lady. She's up there now, we think. And I want another keyto get in with. She may have been taken ill."

  Peter's curt explanation stemmed her ready stream of talk abruptly.Snatching the key which she took down from a peg on the wall hereturned to the car with it. Barry was still sitting behind thesteering wheel. He bent forward, as Peter approached.

  "You go," he said, with a bluntness that ma
sked an infiniteunderstanding. "There's the brandy flask"--bringing it out of a sidepocket. "If you want help, blow this hooter." He had detached one ofthe horns from the car. "If not--well, I shall just wait here till youcome back."