“You hoped that he would leave you his money?”
“One can always hope. Then there was Roc. Adventuresses always weigh up all the possibilities, you know.”
“Roc must have seemed the more hopeful of the two surely … when you got to know my grandfather.”
She laughed again. “He did. But then he’s too shrewd. He saw through me. He liked me, yes. And I liked him. I’d have liked him if he’d been one of the fishermen here. But he always held back; he seemed to be aware of something in me which … well, how shall we say? … wasn’t quite what a gentleman looks for in his wife—not Roc’s kind anyway. So we were good friends and then he went away and when he came back he’d married you. He’s got a kind heart. He wanted to be friends still, and didn’t want me to feel snubbed. That was why he was extra nice to me. But I saw you were getting a little jealous.” She laughed. “All clear now?”
“Not quite,” I said. “How did my grandfather die?”
She looked at me very intently and seemed more serious than she had during the whole of our interview.
“I have admitted to you that I look out for chances to improve my lot,” she said firmly, “but I’m not a murderess. I’ve always believed that other people’s lives mean as much to them as mine does to me. If I can get the better of people … all well and good. But I do draw the line at murder.” Once again the smile was in her eyes. “So that’s why you were so alarmed when you came in! Then I’m doubly glad you came. I want to clear up that little point before I go away. Your grandfather often mislaid his little box. He did so once when you were with him. Don’t you remember?”
I did remember. I had left Polhorgan early and found her with Roc on Pendorric beach.
“He dropped the pills; it agitated him that he could not find them when he needed them; and in that agitation he knocked over the bell. That was how he died, Mrs. Pendorric. I’d be ready to swear it. He was, it’s true, in rather an agitated state. He was worried about you. He knew that at one time your husband and I had been friendly and he spoke to me about it. It upset him, although I assured him that there was nothing beyond friendship in our relationship. But to worry over imaginary details is a feature of his complaint. But I do assure you that I did nothing intentionally to hasten his death.”
“I believe you,” I said, because I did.
“I’m glad. I shouldn’t have liked you to think me capable of that. Most other things … yes. But not murder.” She yawned and stretched her arms. “Just think, in a month’s time I’ll be heading for the sun … when the mists swirl round Pendorric and the southwest gales batter the walls of Polhorgan. I’ve got loads of packing to do.”
I rose. “Then I’d better go.”
She came to the door of the cottage with me, and when I had walked down the path we said good-by. She stood at the door watching me.
My encounter with Althea Grey had been rather bewildering, for she had been embarrassingly frank. I had believed her while I was sitting with her, but now I wondered whether she had been amusing herself with my gullibility.
Was she really going away? At least she was not with Roc, and there was some measure of comfort in that.
The day seemed to stretch out endlessly before me. I did not want to go back to Pendorric, but there seemed nothing else to do. I thought I would go now and find Deborah and talk to her, not that I was really anxious to confide, even in her.
As I came towards the house Mrs. Penhalligan, who must have seen me approaching, came running out. She was very agitated and could scarcely speak coherently.
“Oh, Mrs. Pendorric, there’s been an accident …”
My heart missed a beat and then began to gallop to make up for it. Roc! I thought. I ought to have been with him …
“It’s Miss Morwenna, ma’am. She’s had an accident in her car. It was the hospital that phoned.”
“Morwenna …” I breathed.
“Yes, it happened on Ganter Hill. They’ve taken her to Treganter Hospital.”
“She’s …”
“They say it’s very serious. Mr. Chaston’s already gone.”
“I see.”
I felt bewildered. I could not think what I should do for the best.
“The twins … ?” I began.
“Miss Bective is with them. She’s told them.”
Deborah drove up at that moment. She got out of her car and called to us: “Isn’t it warm this morning? Hello … is anything wrong?”
I said: “There’s been an accident. It’s Morwenna. She was driving in to Plymouth.”
“Is it bad? Is she hurt?”
I nodded. “Charles has gone to Treganter Hospital. It’s rather serious, I think.”
“Oh, my God,” murmured Deborah. “And Hyson … and Lowella?”
“They’re with Rachel. She’ll look after them.”
Deborah put her hand over her eyes. “This is terrible.” There was a sob in her throat. “At such a time. I wonder how badly hurt she is. It’ll be tragic if this has harmed the child.”
“Do you think we ought to go to the hospital?”
“Yes,” said Deborah. “Let’s go at once. Poor Charles! Get in, Favel. It isn’t very far.”
Mrs. Penhalligan stood watching us as we drove away.
Deborah looked grim and I thought: She loves Morwenna like a mother; and indeed it was natural that she should, for she had brought up Roc and his sister after their mother had died.
“I expect she was thinking of the child,” murmured Deborah. “We ought not to have let her drive. She’s been so absent-minded lately.”
“I could have driven her into Plymouth,” I said.
“Or I. Why did she want to go, anyway?”
“For knitting wool and patterns.”
“It’s so ironical. She’s longed for another child and because of it …”
I had suddenly remembered and the memory struck me like a blow.
“Deborah,” I said slowly, “Morwenna wasn’t driving her own car. She was using the little blue Morris, which I usually drive!”
Deborah nodded. “But she’s driven it before. Besides she has always been such a good driver.”
I was silent. The coincidence did not seem to impress Deborah as it did me. I was almost afraid to examine my thoughts.
I shook them off. I was becoming unnerved. At least, first of all I must wait to hear what had caused the accident.
And if by any chance something in the car had gone wrong, should I be foolish to imagine that it was due to tampering, that someone, believing I should use the car, had done something which made an accident inevitable? I was not such an experienced driver as Morwenna. What would have happened if I had been in the car this morning?
Deborah had laid a hand on mine.
“Favel, we mustn’t anticipate trouble, dear. Let us hope and pray that she’ll come through.”
That was a strange day of brooding horror. Morwenna’s life was in danger; I believed mine was too, for I was certain that what had happened to her that day had been part of a plan and no accident, and that someone not very far from me was angry because the wrong person had walked into the trap.
There had been a witness of the accident. It had happened on Ganter Hill—not a very steep hill as Cornish hills go, but rather a long one which sloped gradually into Treganter. One of the local people had seen the car; there was no other involved. Suddenly it had begun to roll about the road, the steering clearly out of control; a glimpse had been caught of the frightened woman at the wheel as the car wobbled downhill and crashed into a tree.
In the late afternoon the hospital rang up, and as a result Charles took the twins to see Morwenna. Deborah and I went with them, at Charles’s request. Quite clearly he feared what he would find when we arrived there.
Deborah and I did not go in to see Morwenna because she was very weak and only her immediate family were allowed to see her.
I shall never forget Hyson’s face as she came out. It was so pale, and seemed s
hriveled so that she looked like an old woman. Lowella was crying; but Hyson shed no tears.
Charles told us that Morwenna’s condition was still very serious, that he was going to stay at the hospital and wanted us to take the twins home; so I drove, while Deborah sat at the back, a twin on either side of her, her arms about them, holding the sobbing Lowella and the silent Hyson.
When we reached Pendorric, Rachel and Mrs. Penhalligan were waiting to hear the news.
We were all very silent and upset, and Mrs. Penhalligan said we should try to eat something. We went into the winter parlor and when we were there Hyson suddenly cried out: “Her head was all bandaged. She didn’t know me. Mummy didn’t know me! She’s going to die … and death’s horrible.”
Deborah put her arms about the child. “There, my darling, hush. You’re frightening Lowella.”
Hyson broke free. Her eyes were wild and I could see that she was on the verge of hysteria. “She should be frightened. We all should. Because Mummy’s going to die and I … I hate it.”
“Mummy will get better,” Deborah comforted.
Hyson gazed straight before her for a few seconds, and then suddenly her eyes were on mine. She continued to stare at me, and Deborah, noticing this, took the child’s head and held it against her breast.
“I’m going to take Hyson up to my room,” she said. “She’ll stay with me tonight. This has been terrible … terrible.”
She went out of the room, her arms about Hyson; but Hyson had turned once more to stare at me.
“I hate it … I hate it …” she cried.
Deborah gently led her away.
Roc came home at once, his business uncompleted, and when I saw him I realized again the depth of his affection for his sister. He was stunned by what had happened, and seemed to have forgotten all about our strained relationship.
The next days were spent in going to the hospital, although only Charles and Roc were allowed to see Morwenna. Deborah was wonderful with the twins, and I felt that Hyson needed a good deal of care during those days. I had not guessed how deep was her feeling for her mother.
It was three days after the accident when we heard that Morwenna would probably recover; but she had lost her baby; and she had not yet been told this.
I remember driving Charles home from the hospital after he had been given that information; he was very upset and talked to me more intimately than he ever had before.
“You see, Favel,” he said, “it meant so much to her. I wanted a son, naturally; but she seemed to have a sort of obsession about it. And now there won’t be any more children … ever. That much they can tell me.”
“As long as she recovers …” I whispered.
“Yes, as long as she recovers there mustn’t be any more regrets.”
When we knew that Morwenna was out of danger Roc went away again. There was nothing he could do at home, he said; either he or Charles had to attend to business, and in the circumstances it was for Charles to remain at Pendorric, close to Treganter.
During the last days I had been so immersed in the tragedy of Morwenna’s accident that I had not thought very much about my own position, but as soon as Roc had gone my fears began to return, especially as it seemed firmly established that it was some unusual fault in the steering that had been responsible for the accident; and I knew very well that there had been nothing wrong with the car when I had used it the day before.
I spent a sleepless night after Roc had gone, and the next morning Mabell Clement telephoned me and asked if I would come over and have morning coffee with her. She had sounded rather agitated, and when I arrived at Tremethick Mabell took both my hands in a firm grasp and said: “Thank heaven you’ve come.”
“What’s wrong?” I wanted to know.
“I’ve scarcely slept all night thinking of you. Andrew’s very worried. We were talking about you nearly all last night. We don’t like it, Favel.”
“I don’t understand. What don’t you like?”
“You know, or perhaps you don’t … but I assure you he is. I mean Andrew. He’s the most level-headed person I’ve ever known. And he’s not satisfied. He thinks this is too much of a coincidence to be ignored.”
“You mean …”
“Sit down. I’ve got the coffee made. Andrew will be in at any moment. At least he’s going to try to be. But young Mrs. Pengelly’s baby’s due, so it’s possible he’ll be detained. If he is, I’ve got to make you see.”
“I’ve never seen you so agitated, Mabell.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt so agitated. I’ve never before known anyone who’s in danger of being murdered.”
I stared at her in horror, because I knew what she meant; and the fact that the thought was in her mind as well as mine gave it substance.
“We’ve got to be logical, Favel. We’ve got to look this thing right in the face. It’s no use saying ‘This sort of thing couldn’t happen here … or to me.’ That’s what everybody says. But we know such things do occur. And you happen to be very rich. People envy money more than anything. They’re ready to kill for it.”
“Yes, I think you’re right, Mabell.”
“Now listen, Favel. Someone locked you in that vault and intended to keep you there, where your cries wouldn’t be heard, and you would have died of fright or starvation or something. That was the plan.”
I nodded.
“If Miss Hyson hadn’t happened to come that way and hear you call, you might still have been there … at least your body might … with that of the little girl.”
“I think you’re right.”
“Well, suppose there was an explanation of that. Suppose the door did jam as they said it did …”
She paused and I thought: As Roc said it did. Oh Roc … not you. That would be more than I could bear.
“Well, I suppose that’s possible,” she continued. “But what is so strange is that, not so long after, the car which you were expected to be driving should be involved in an accident. When Andrew and I heard what had happened we were quite … stunned. You see the same idea had occurred to us both.”
I tried to speak steadily. “You think that the … person who locked me in the vault, tampered with the car?”
“I think two accidents like that can’t be merely chance.”
“There was another.” I told her about the notice on the cliffs. “Roc happened to remember, and came after me.”
I knew what was in her thoughts because her mouth hardened and she said: “It wasn’t all that dangerous. It wasn’t like the vault … and the car.”
“Still someone did move the board. It might have been someone who knew I was at Polhorgan. And then of course there’s this violin-playing and singing, and the story of the brides.”
“As I said, we don’t like it. We’re very fond of you, Favel—myself and … Andrew. I think that someone is trying to harm you and it’s someone at Pendorric.”
“It’s a ghastly thought, and now that Roc’s away …”
“Oh, so he’s away?”
“Yes, he went last weekend on business and he came back when he heard about the accident. He’s had to go back now.”
Mabell stood up. That hard expression was in her face again, and I knew whom she suspected.
“That nurse has left Cormorant Cottage,” she said.
“I knew she was going.”
“I wonder where she is now?”
We were silent for a few minutes, then Mabell burst out: “I just don’t like the thought of your being at Pendorric.”
“But it’s my home.”
“I think you ought to get away for a bit … to sort things out. Why don’t you come and stay here for a night or two? We could talk, and you’d feel safe here.”
I looked round the room, with the pictures (which Mabell had been unable to sell) on the walls, and examples of her handiwork in evidence over the brick fireplace.
It certainly seemed like a haven. I should feel perfectly at peace here. I should h
ave time to think about what had happened, to talk about it with Mabell and Andrew; but there was no real reason why I should stay with them.
“It would seem so odd,” I began.
“Suppose I was going to paint your portrait. Would that give us an excuse?”
“Hardly. People would say I could easily come over for sittings.”
“But we hate the thought of your being there. We’re afraid of what’s going to happen next.”
I thought of Roc, going away on business; this time he had not suggested that I should go with him. So why shouldn’t I stay with friends?
“Look,” said Mabell, “I’ll drive you back and you can pack a bag. Just your night things.”
She was so determined and I felt so uncertain that I allowed her to get out the car and drive me back to Pendorric.
When we reached the house I said: “I’ll have to explain to Mrs. Penhalligan that I shan’t be home for a night or so. I’ll tell her about the picture … only I must say it seems rather strange in the midst of all this trouble.”
“Stranger things have been happening,” said Mabell firmly.
I went up to my room and put a few things in a bag. The house seemed very quiet. I felt dazed, as I had since I had talked to Mabell. I was certain now that someone was determined to kill me; and that it could happen while I was in Pendorric. The playing of the violin, the singing—they had been the warning signs; someone had tried to unnerve me, to make me believe this story of the woman who was trying to lure me into the tomb to take her place.
Bride of Pendorric Page 29