In those few instants I was aware of only one thing — the necessity somehow to protect the young life I carried, the fruit of our love, Rupert’s and mine. I gasped for air, forced myself up, reached for the bank, and fell again, face down. Somehow I pushed my head up, and it was then I felt a strong hand gripping an arm, pulling me firmly to safety.
I lay with my chest heaving, heart pumping against my ribs while Rupert wiped my face and dripping hair. ‘Oh Josie — Josie—’ I heard him saying as though from a dream, ‘I’m so sorry. Darling, darling — don’t fret, be still. It’s all over now. I remember. It was when you fell — And the baby — the shock of it all—’
I tried to speak, but he silenced me.
‘Hush. Don’t say anything. We’ll talk later. My poor love, the first thing to do is get you back. Lie still now, that’s a command, d’you hear? I’ll get the man. He’s waiting in the lane with the carriage. He’ll help us.’
I smiled, though the gesture must have been a travesty, with mud still all over me.
‘I must look awful,’ I said feebly.
And then he too, gave the lopsided half-grin I knew so well — the first I’d seen for months.
‘You do, my love. Quite a mess. A wonder I can bring myself to kiss you.’
But he did, and a minute later was escorting me over the brown earth to the lane. He hardly limped at all, and when he ushered me into the waiting carriage, his eyes were alight. It was only when we reached Kerrysmoor that reality seemed to register with either of us. I knew then that there was still a deal of explanation to follow, but whatever it might reveal, everything was well with Rupert and myself.
Chapter Thirteen
Mrs Treen was shocked when she saw the two of us enter the hall at Kerrysmoor.
‘My dear soul!’ she exclaimed, throwing up her hands, ‘What a sight you do look — oh, not you, Master — but her, the girl. What mischief’s been going on? I think I’ve a right to know seeing that you’re supposed to be kept quiet, sir, and not be bothered by any flibbertigibbet maid who doesn’t seem capable of knowing her place or where she’s allowed to be and where not. I tell you, Master — it’s getting me down these days — one shock after another. I do my best to run the house in a normal fashion. But how can I, I ask you? What with fires and landslides, and her ladyship going queer and dying — and now this Josephine — this French miss appearing like a drowned rat — look at the floor, all spattered up again. And that funny old Dame Jenny upstairs — full of omens she is again. It’s too much — just too much—’
Rupert let the spate of words tumble out, making no attempt to stop her. When at last, with a great sigh it was done, and Mrs Treen, after a gasp, drew out a handkerchief and rubbed her nose and eyes, he said soothingly:
‘I can understand. It’s been very difficult for you. But things will be easier for you from now on, so calm yourself. Relax woman.’ He took her arm and urged her quietly but forcibly to the parlour. ‘Now sit down, and have something to liven you up.’ He went to the cabinet, brought out three glasses and a decanter, and proceeded to pour three drinks. When I’d had mine which I quickly swallowed, he said, ‘You’d better go and change into dry clothes, Josephine. Leave me with Mrs Treen to do a little explaining. And when you come down, see that the end of your chin and nose are clean. You do look rather — spectacular. It might be advisable to have a bath.’
‘Thank you so much for you advice, sir,’ I said, with a mockery equal to his own. ‘I’ll bear it in mind.’
I gave the semblance of a curtsey, then rushed from the room, and up the stairs, but not before I heard Mrs Treen saying in outraged tones, ‘To think of it! — the impertinence.’
I didn’t hear whether Rupert replied or not, neither did I really care. Happiness was bubbling up in me, in spite of my wet clothes, dripping hair, and bruises and scratches which were starting to smart.
However, when I looked into my mirror a little of my elation vanished. I was indeed a sight, and could have been some bedraggled beggar-woman or gypsy from the slums of Falmouth’s dockland. Yet Rupert hadn’t seemed to mind. Was it because he loved me so much or because he didn’t really care? It was odd how one mood could so quickly follow upon another. But maybe exhaustion combined with my condition accounted for the creeping heaviness that gradually overcame my body.
I felt my stomach tentatively, wondering if any harm could have been done by my fall into the pool. No pain registered there, so I guessed I was all right, and proceeded to undress, for washing and perfuming myself. It was important to me, oh terribly important that when Rupert saw me I should be looking my best and most desirous — even though I might have to be uncomfortable in corsets, and somehow disguise my increasing plumpness. He’d been pleased about the baby, which had shocked his mind alive, yes. But men were queer creatures when it came to a woman’s looks, and not always reasonable about cause and effect.
Although my news concerning the child combined with the shock of seeing me tumble, had so miraculously restored his past, I couldn’t be sure yet to what extent or how permanent it would be. There might be blanks which would return and thrust him back into the torment of doubt. This mustn’t happen. He knew me again now as Josie, and must never for a moment be allowed to forget the fact. I must so dazzle and delight him, that all the rest — the unhappiness and perhaps tragedies he’d had to endure — would fade into shadow and eventual forgetfulness.
Of course, I was being extremely optimistic, but the joys of loving can be irrational, and when I made my way some time later along the landing towards the stairs, my heart was beating wildly; even through the film of rice powder on my cheeks, I was aware my skin must have a radiant glow. I was wearing the best dress I had — soft blue silk, trimmed with small blue velvet bows and a white lace collar and cuffs. I had no time to dry my hair properly or arrange it in an elegant fashion, but left my dark front curls to fall to my shoulders, and caught the back portion of hair up, with a blue ribbon.
I had to pass the door of Dame Jenny’s room near the head of the stairs, and paused for a moment thinking I heard a thin high call. I looked in quietly. She was lying in a huge four-poster bed under a pink silk canopy with hangings to match. She could hardly move, poor old thing, but was clad in her usual fancy manner, with her bright small eyes peeping inquisitively under a frilly lace cap like a perky robin. Her bed jacket also was ornate and fluffy, twinkling with necklaces and jewels. It must take considerable time for Mrs Treen or the girl to have her looking like that every day, I thought as I approached the bed, and the whole room must take a deal of dusting. It contained a number of ornaments, and a crystal bird swinging in a gilt cage near the window, occasionally broke with a twittering sound, into brief song.
The old lady was obviously pleased to see me. A little smile twitched her lips. She made a very slight beckoning movement of her head. I bent down towards her. A spray of rosemary lay on the quilt near her withered hand. From vague words and whispering I gathered that she meant me to have it, and remembered that she had once told me how rosemary placed under a maid’s pillow at a certain time of the moon ensured happiness in love. I took it, and her smile widened. Before I had time to brush her cheek with my lips, her eyes closed, and she was asleep.
I left the room, quietly closing the door behind me, and went downstairs. Outside the parlour I waited and listened. All was quiet, so very cautiously I tapped the door, and heard Rupert’s voice saying, ‘Come in.’
I entered. He was alone, standing by the fireplace. I hadn’t realised until then how — despite my buoyancy and exhilaration at the mere thought of contact again — apprehension and anxiety still lingered. Just inside the door I paused, wondering if I’d be disappointed, recalling other times in the past when his mood had suddenly changed from one of loving endearments to the chilly politeness of a stranger. He didn’t appear unduly tired. His expression was reflective and thoughtful, until a flame from a glowing log caught his eyes lighting them to blazing gold.
&
nbsp; ‘Come here, Josephine,’ he said, stretching an arm towards me. ‘You look quite — ravishing.’
‘I hope my face is clean,’ I remarked stupidly, trying for the moment to keep the conversation in a light tone, I felt so nervous. ‘It got a good scrub.’
I smoothed a curl from one temple, and striving to appear dignified took two steps in his direction. Then, suddenly determination crumbled, my poise was shattered, and I ran the rest of the way straight into his arms.
When the first passionate embrace was over, but still holding me close, he led me to the sofa, laid me down gently, and half seated on the edge, bent over and once more kissed me, uttering the endearments I’d ached to hear for so long a time. He paused briefly at intervals to smooth the hair from my forehead, his hands tracing the outline of my face — from temples, over cheeks and jaw, then travelling tenderly over curve of breasts. And all the while I was whispering, ‘I love you so. Oh, Rupert — I do love you—’
‘And I—’ he whispered, ‘for ever and ever—’ A hand rested gently on the swelling curve of my stomach beneath the blue silk, and it was as though sensing the touch of love the unborn baby stirred in response.
‘When will it be?’ he asked presently. ‘The birth?’
‘Some time in April,’ I told him, ‘the spring.’
He stared at me thoughtfully before saying, ‘Poor little devil! With a cripple for a father!’
‘You’re not a cripple,’ I said indignantly, ‘and you don’t know it will be a boy. We could easily have a daughter.’
‘Of course. And what would we call her?’
On impulse I said, ‘Melissa, if you like; I wouldn’t mind. Truly.’
‘Ah! — Melissa. I’ll have to explain about her, I suppose.’
‘Only when you want to,’ I answered. ‘She doesn’t — she doesn’t seem so important any more.’
‘Oh but she is important — very,’ he said. ‘She was the beginning of it all — many years ago, when we were both children. In her way she was the loveliest creature I’d ever known — until now.’
He was gazing at me so intently I looked away. A hand sought mine and pressed it. I could feel the warm pulse beating — almost as quickly as my own heart. I almost asked, Who was she? Is she alive still somewhere? Or did she die? But I bit my lips to keep the words back, leaving him to admit of his own accord.
‘Yes, as you said earlier, I loved her. She was the daughter of our housekeeper at the time, in my father’s day, so you could say we grew up together. My mother had died when I was very young, and Mrs Pendrake in most ways took her place in my life. When we were older — I was in my twenties, I determined to marry Melissa who returned my — passion. It was a young passion, but nonetheless sincere and overwhelming. But in the end—’
‘Yes, Rupert?’ I urged, ‘what happened? Wouldn’t your father agree? Was that it?’
‘My father by then was dead,’ he said, in colder tones. ‘I doubt he knew about the affair. We’d been wise and kept our affection as secret as possible. It was only after his death that Lucas, my elder brother let out the truth — maliciously, mockingly, because unfortunately he was that type of man. Lascivious — brutal in his fashion.’
There was a pause, after which I said, ‘Please go on.’
‘Following the funeral, and after the will was read,’ Rupert continued, ‘when I told him of my decision to marry Melissa, he informed me casually, but with a particularly nasty triumphant note in his voice that I couldn’t because she was my own half sister — the daughter of my father — his bastard, by Mrs Pendrake. I shall never forget his words. “My dear fellow, I’m so infernally sorry. She’s certainly a tasty little piece. But incest is not regarded favourably by the law, as you must know. A shame. But never mind, when you’ve grown up some more, you’re sure to find some eligible filly to satisfy your sexual and romantic needs”. I lunged out and only missed him by a quarter of an inch; and he laughed, blast him, laughed and walked away, swaggering as though he’d played an extremely clever trick — and won.’
‘Was it true, though? About Melissa?’
‘Being my half-sister? Oh, yes. When I confronted her, Mrs Pendrake admitted it.’ He closed his eyes for a second as though to blot out that faraway scene. When he opened them again he was staring straight ahead expressionlessly. I waited for him to take up the story. ‘There was proof enough in many ways,’ he went on at last, ‘There was no question at all that Lucas had lied. He’d known the truth since he was a youth. I think he rather revelled in it, it gave him a subtle sort of hold — or maybe equality’s a better word — over my father. Neither had a scrap of conscience concerning women. They were, shall we say — of the same ilk.’
There was contempt in his voice, ‘Well, the upshot of it was that Lucas inherited the greater part of the estate, and from the first moment proceeded to enjoy it. At the same time Mrs Pendrake went sick and died, she was never robust — leaving Melissa alone and unprovided for. Now the secret of her birth had become common knowledge round the immediate district, it seemed wiser under the circumstances — for her to live elsewhere, a little further out of Lucas’s orbit; my father had left a certain sum to me, with a portion of land, — the cottage Tregonnis. The Crimean war was still raging; I felt I had to be there, not only because of duty, but because of the pain caused by my broken relationship with Melissa. I had to get away, somehow try to forget, for her sake as well as mine. So I arranged for her to live there with a companion — the daughter of a farmer from Penjust way. She seemed a reliable girl, better educated than most of her class. When I told Lucas he sneeringly agreed. He may have had his eye on Melissa in a certain way, but he certainly didn’t like her; despite her looks, which he’d have ravished without a qualm given a chance, — her ‘prudishness’ as he termed it, got on his nerves, and irritated him. So to Tregonnis Melissa and the girl went.’
There was a long pause.
‘Go on, Rupert, tell me,’ I said at last. ‘What happened?’
‘I was away for a year,’ he said. ‘During that time the young woman, the farmer’s daughter, got married, leaving Melissa alone and unprotected. Oh, she had her weaving and spinning, kept a few fowls and goats. And the few natives round about respected her. But Lucas, seeing his chance of revenging himself on a girl who’d spurned him, proceeded to do it in his usual blackguardedly way. He called one evening and raped her. Yes. That’s what the heir and owner of Kerrysmoor did, with the result that later she found herself with child.’
His voice was bitter. Even now after so long, the knuckles of one hand showed white on his clenched fist. The jaws tightened in his lean face. I didn’t speak. Trite words like — ‘how dreadful’ or ‘Rupert, how simply terrible’, would have been a travesty, and of no use at all. Gradually his tension eased, and he said in matter-of-fact tones, ‘It was too much for her of course. What exactly happened no one exactly knew; Lucas was thrown from a horse one day after a mad gallop over the moors and was killed. I returned when I heard, and it was then I discovered that Melissa, too, was dead, drowned in the pool at the back of Tregonnis. Whether by her own hand, mischance or deliberately murdered will never be known. I suggest the latter, because I knew Lucas so well. Anyway—’ he took a deep breath, ‘—that’s the history, in brief.’
‘And the portrait?’
‘I’d had that painted by a good friend of mine earlier — an artist from London who came to Kerrysmoor occasionally for a visit. Later, following Melissa’s death, I had it framed and hung in that small room among certain other precious relics. The place became through the years almost sacred to me — a shrine. Anything of particular beauty I could purchase, I bought and had installed there. Oh, yes, I must admit it, my love, I adored Melissa with a youthful infatuation that only seemed to increase with time — until I met you.’
‘Maybe you still do, in a — in a dream-like kind of way,’ I suggested wistfully, with faint pain gnawing me.
‘As one admires anything that is beauti
ful and true,’ he agreed. ‘Apple blossom against a pale blue summer sky — the golden fire of summer sunset tipping the hills and passing clouds with flame — great art, and chords of forgotten music played on distant violins — oh — Josie, Josie — don’t make me sound a sentimental fool. I’m an adventurer and smuggler, remember? An unscrupulous character who’s defrauded the law and married a mad woman — not that I knew that at the time — to gain my own ends and get the estate on its feet again. Lucas had played merry hell with Kerrysmoor, and there were debts to face I’d never have met if it hadn’t been for a bit of sharp practice on my part. When Alicia came along, highly born, apparently rich and besotted with me, I’d no scruples in using her. I’d no personal illusions — I knew what I was doing, or thought I did. As it happened, she wasn’t quite so rich as I’d believed, and the greater part of what she’d had was spent for her own comforts and apartment in the best wing.
‘From the beginning our marriage was a travesty, one founded on my own bitterness and fanatical heartache, and her insatiable craving for a husband. I knew nothing of her family’s taint — of the inherent insanity which eventually flared up and made her destroy Tregonnis. Jealousy! It can be a very evil thing. She would have destroyed you if she could; that’s why I arranged for you to stay at the Crown in Truro. But you didn’t trust me, did you? You merely decided I was throwing my weight about showing who was master.’
‘No.’ I told him. ‘Not exactly. It looked rather as though you were trying to get me out of the way.’
‘So I was. With Alicia escaped and on the warpath, it was the only sensible thing to do. Good heavens, Josie, she might have killed you. She had a knife, did you know that?’
‘Yes,’ I said, and I related then the sordid frightening episode when I’d been attacked in the garden of the cottage.
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