“Yes, ma’am.”
“You’re listening but you’re only waiting to go; you think, here is an old woman, in her grey hairs, drooling nonsense that does not concern me … But it will. Mark me, if you live long enough it will. Pray each night, boy, to die at forty. It is better to lose the world while it is worth losing. That way your last thoughts can be regret.”
“And religion, grandmother? Does that not bring you consolation?”
“Do not be insolent … In a week or so your father will be home. I will tell him of your disobedience.” She narrowed her eyes moodily at the candle flame. The heavy gold brocade of the bed curtains was dark with age where they merged into the shadows of the beamed ceiling; they made a canopy over her as if she were riding in a litter or a royal chair. “ It will be an important day for the Killigrews when he returns for he will bring back with him the future mistress of Arwenack.”
“Oh … I didn’t know that.”
“You don’t know everything, young man.”
“It is settled, then?”
“It will be settled.”
“Jane Fermor … When are they to be married?”
“Not yet, but soon; within the year. It’s time, and I want to see the succession.”
“I trust she will be pretty.” I got up to go.
“Pretty?” She spoke the word with distaste. “There belongs more to marriage than two pair of bare legs. She has been carefully chosen. She will bring money and influence. That is what matters.”
“Perhaps, grandmother, John will think otherwise.”
“I wonder how she will feel coming to this house. I remember how I felt as if it were yesterday. I was a widow of twenty-three with a child of four. We had rid all day over rough moors, and darkness was falling. Our escort of six seemed scarcely enough … When we reached this house I thought in the dark that it was in ruin … Your great grandfather and great grandmother were at the door to meet us. I recollect how they were dressed … Yes, how they were dressed. He had a curled moustache like your father’s but was a bigger man and wore a gold chain to his knees. She had golden yellow hair and a gown of tawny velvet. After the bleakness of our journey the elegance of their living was a great comfort to behold.”
“But the house was in ruin?”
“Ah, no. In the morning I saw it was still building. This room was complete and all this wing; but the north wing was not above shoulder level. And the great hall was not finished for many years, not until your father was thirteen …”
I went to the door. “You have memories to look back on, grandmother. Why should you have wished to cut them short?”
She was a long time answering and she seemed to have forgotten me. But as I took the door latch she said:
“Perhaps that is not so … Perhaps it would be better never to have been born. For what has the effort been worth? Memories or no memories, what has it all been worth?” She lifted an unsteady hand. “A few needs met, a few ambitions gratified, a few pains suffered … Food and wine and the coarser appetites. A leap from the womb and a plunge into the grave … Then—well, then it is gone and there is nothing to show, nothing worth showing, nothing to leave, nothing worth leaving, only the—only the carved stone in the church, a stale Latin tag, bones mouldering, and the end of a life which need never have begun!”
I could hear her begin to talk again after I had closed the door.
We had all waited with a sense of anticipation to see Jane Fermor, this girl who had been chosen by my father for his eldest son—I in particular, for except for an accident of birth the girl would have been chosen for me. Yet when she came I was out hawking and the first intimation was extra horses in the stables and strange servants in the hall.
Supper was almost ready, and Sir George Fermor came down first in company with my father. Sir George was an erect fierce man of around five and forty, with the tight mouth and bowed legs of a captain of horse. He was a man, you would think, who would regard an enemy pikeman, a wild boar or an unleapable fence with the same haughty and fearless stare. His voice was harsh and made itself heard above everything like a carpenter’s saw, his footsteps clanked as if with the echo of spurs.
Behind him in a few minutes, accompanied by Mrs Killigrew, came his fifteen-year-old only child. She wore a gown of silver lace with puff sleeves of white taffeta, and had a carcanet of seed pearls round her hair. Everything she wore was expensive but nothing she wore could disguise her thick figure, her big feet and hands, the solidity of her stride. Nor was she pretty, being very pale with little dabs of red ochre on her cheeks. Her hair was jet black and fell down either side of her face like curtains through which her ears peeped. Her eyes were blue, small, but bright and magnetic. Her skin was milky and fine. She spoke little through supper and seemed, indifferent to the embarrassed boy, a month younger than herself, who sat at her side. But I saw her eyes move assessingly about the hall, taking in the livery of the servants, the Pavia tapestry, the quality of the plate we used, the sprawling dogs like a breathing undulating rug before the fire.
Lady Killigrew had somehow contrived to control her ailment and was at the table in her best gown. She had uncanny powers of recuperation and a will of the same order. She and Mr Killigrew engaged Sir George Fermor in conversation through supper, but even they were talked down by the rasping voice. When it chose to utter, which was frequent, nothing could live with it. In the main it indulged in self-congratulation, but sometimes it dealt with the sloth and evil nature of servants. Thrashing was the only thing good enough for most of ’em, he said; all his servants were thrashed regular whether they’d offended or not; it kept them up to the mark. While he so spoke he stared meaningly around, leaving no doubt as to his thoughts.
The betrothal was celebrated next morning in the presence of Parson Garrock of St Budock and Parson Merther. The two young people stood in the centre of the hall, with Mr Killigrew on one side of them and Sir George Fermor on the other. Young John was required to speak first, and this he did, faltering over the words:
“I, John Killigrew, do willingly promise to marry thee, Jane Fermor, if God will and I live, whenever our parents think good and meet, till which time I take thee for my only betrothed wife and thereto plight thee my troth. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. So be it.”
Having said this he put a gold ring on the girl’s right hand. Then it was her turn to speak the oath—which she did in a deep voice—and to give him a ring in return. This done, they kissed and the union was celebrated in rhenish wine. My father was in great spirits, and even Sir George weighed light upon him. Jane, in a tight laced bodice with a green kirtle and a red petticoat edged with lace, looked as dumpy as before. After the plighting she began to talk with the children, not animated still but sober, almost fierce like her father, and Odelia and Thomas were listening to her open mouthed. I drew nearer, thinking what if I were being asked to marry this girl, how would I feel? And I suddenly met her gaze.
She said in her deep voice: “ Who are you, fellow?”
I stared back at her, and before I could think what to reply, little Odelia said: “This is our brother, Maugan.”
“Brother?” She looked me over. “ If he be not older than John then I’ll eat all the dam’ dogs in this hall.”
“I am older,” I said. “ However, your inheritance is safe. My father was not married at the time.”
“My father has seven by-blows to my knowledge, but they’re not kept in the house, fellow.”
“This is a special occasion, girl,” I said, “for which they have let me out of the kennels. If treated well I seldom bite.”
Her smile showed very white, very even, teeth and small hard dimples. “ More’s the pity … And this? Another of the same?”
Belemus had come up. “No, I am a cousin, cousin—and neither illegitimate nor safe.”
We talked for a few minutes, she over-towered by us both but in no way out of countenance. I had never met a girl of 15 like her. She had a
self-possession beyond measure and a determination and vigour in all things.
My father pressed them to stay for the Christmas festivities, but Sir George could not and Mr Killigrew breathed out his relief in private. The money that had come to us from my raid on the Kinsale had helped him to order this week with all the old flamboyance and extravagance, but it could hardly have lasted through the twelve days of Christmas.
On the morning before they left I came on Jane Fermor walking with her maid on the edge of the woods behind the house. I would have avoided her but she beckoned.
“Your name’s Maugan, isn’t it, fellow?”
“Yes, girl.” I suddenly saw that behind her back she held a pipe which she had been smoking.
“Then tell me. I want to know. How many fallow-deer have you on this estate?”
“Two score maybe. And the same of red.”
“A poor number. They should be bred up.”
“No doubt.”
“And shall be. Tell me something more, what are those woods on the hill?”
“Just woods. They lead towards Budock and Constantine.”
“Are there any wild boar or wolves?”
“We have few such animals in Cornwall.”
“No?” She brought her hand round to the front and glanced up with a smile to see if I had noticed. To be quite certain she put the pipe in her mouth and drew on it. “Nor have we many wild animals in Northampton; but sometimes Sir George, my father, purchases a boar and sets it free for the sport. We have woods much taller than these. All these trees are so stunted.”
It was on my tongue to refer to the height of human beings.
“We have bear-baiting too,” she said. “With bulldogs most times; but the latest craze is greyhounds. It gives the bear more chance. I’m disappointed not to have seen none here. Do you not ever have it?”
“My father is too fond of his dogs.”
She wrinkled her nose. “ So I should think from the stink of ’em. I’d have half of ’em thrown in the sea.”
I did not speak.
“You’re a rude sort of fellow, aren’t you?” she said.
“We know little of your polished manners in Cornwall.”
“Have you ever been to London?”
“No.”
“It’s an education which would profit you. I was there last month. I go regular.”
“That must be—profitable.”
“Last month I saw a woman scourged naked. Next I’m waiting to see a man.”
“I once,” I said, “saw the entrails of a dead sheep being fought over by seagulls.”
She drew at her pipe and puffed smoke thoughtfully in my face. “Maugan Killigrew. Who was your mother?”
“A woman. Like any other.”
“Maybe she too was scourged naked at Bridewell as a whore.”
“If you go four miles up the river you will find a boy with no front teeth. He lost them for saying less than that.”
“But you can’t do it to me?” She laughed and put a hand on my arm. “But perhaps he meant it—while I did not. I was seeking a chink in your armour.”
I moved enough to let her hand fall away.
She said: “When a boy is as hostile as you it’s natural to probe. A girl is not strong enough to wield a sword, so she must use a pin.”
“Oh, you make a great mistake,” I said. “ I am not hostile.”
“But you do not approve of me, eh? Do you smoke?”
“No.”
“You should try it sometimes. It soothes the temper.” She patted my arm lightly. “ Or perhaps you don’t like seeing a woman to smoke? Sir George, my father, does not, so I must take it out of doors. This is wound-wort, of course. Smell it.” She wafted the pipe under my nose. “ I cannot afford tobacco at 3s. an ounce while my father holds the purse-strings.”
I muttered something, more embarrassed now by a friendliness that cloyed.
In spite of her crude abrupt way of talking she gave the impression of being greatly concerned what men thought of her; and in spite of her thick figure and big hands and feet she was not without attraction. That surprised me but it was true; and not only for me. I saw Belemus looking at her. John did not seem awakened to those ideas as yet, and he parried all questions about her with an uneasy smile.
The day after they left I went into my father’s study and found him still in good spirits. He rolled up the map he had been looking at and tapped me on the shoulder with it.
“Well, Sir Maugan, our troubles are at an intermission— perhaps altogether over. At least we shall need to look at this no longer.” He tossed the map into a corner and made the dogs bark.
“What is that, sir?”
“Tell me, what d’you think of our guests?”
“… They are rich?”
He laughed. “ The wedding’s to be here next May, and she brings as her dowry £12, 000 in gold. In gold, Maugan! It’s a commodity we’ve seen little of this decade. I’ve been tempted to have my ring and snuff box melted down just to see the plain virgin colour of the stuff once more before I die!”
“John will still lack a few months of sixteen then.”
“Yes, and she the same. D’you like her, Maugan? D’you think she’ll be a worthy mistress of this great house when I am gone?”
In the last months our relationship had been cordial and frank to a degree I had never imagined possible; but this was a delicate matter.
“She—I think she may be inclined …”
“No, talk plain. I give you leave.”
“I think she’ll be a holy terror.”
He grunted, not pleased with my frankness now he had it. “She’s raw now. She’ll weather. Life’ll give her a few hard knocks and the corners’ll be less sharp. Mind …” He stopped and smoothed his moustache. “Mind, I think John’s scarcely man enough to handle her yet. But boys grow up more slower than girls. It will work out all right. Why look at yourself.”
“Myself?”
“Yes. Twelve months ago you were no more than a child— though often an awkward child, I’ll grant. Now—well, now you’re a man. You could manage her. I believe that.”
“I believe I should not want to, father.”
“Oh, we’ll find you a wife soon, boy. God’s lungs, I wish you were legitimate. I’d put you to good use within this year! We’ve still need of all our assets!”
“Perhaps I can help in other ways.”
“Perhaps you can. So you have. But a word of warning to you on this Irish boat: I can afford no scandal.”
“I’ll have a care.”
“I mean it. No more adventures when I am away. I can afford nothing that will damage my credit with the Privy Council. My debts put me on a tight-rope; and until this marriage I must take great care not to fall.”
“I’ll remember.”
He was turning over the pages on his desk. “You know, I’d have liked to link you with Jane Fermor.” He smiled sardonically. “I’d have sat back then and watched the storm. John I’m a trifle afraid for. But hell grow to his tasks!”
When I left the room I was still wondering what map it was he had thrown in the corner.
I remember nothing of Christmas that year. except that I bought Meg Stable two pairs of stockings, one green, one red, and that she refused to accept them on my conditions. It was a cold January, with ice on the swan pool and everyone keeping as much as possible indoors. The house became oppressive and stank more than usual of dogs and wood smoke. Each morning the windows were steamed over so that one seemed to live in a world of fog; in the afternoon moisture ran down them and down the walls. Everyone wore two or three coats, but even this could not keep out the cold airs which moved everywhere just out of reach of the fires. It was a time when mischief brewed, when old feuds among servants sparked into life again, when jealousies and lustful fancies had their freest rein.
In February I rode into Truro and went to call on Katherine Footmarker.
It was strange how far behind my stay w
ith Chudleigh Michell had fallen. It was as if some lost forgotten boy had served a year in my place. I found Katherine sitting at the back of her cottage caring for an adder which had been beaten with a stick and left for dead. Her greeting was very cold and unfriendly, as I could but have expected, and it took some time to come to the purpose of my visit.
“That harsh and evil woman,” she said. “Why should I help her if I could?”
“She is my grandmother. If she has to die I’d prefer her to do it in some less distressful way.”
“See his tongue?” she said. “ He does not open his mouth to flick it out, but pushes it through a slit in his lip. Hearin’, smell, taste, he does it all with that tongue.”
I had taken a seat on a tree stump at a respectful distance. “Are you not afraid of being stung?”
“Bitten? No. Birds, animals, reptiles, they all know their friends. Which is more than humans do. It’s more than Maugan Killigrew does.”
“I’m often perplexed as to that. I’m often perplexed, for instance, as to my feelings for the woman Katherine Footmarker.”
“What are your feelin’s for her?”
“I am drawn to her and repelled. There’s no middle way, no mean of feeling.”
“See how he touches ground with his jaw. It’s said snakes can’t hear, but I suspicion they touch the ground to feel the vibrations travellin’ through and over the earth. You could never come on him from behind without him knowin’ ”
“Nor could one come on you.”
“Still a sharp word in your mouth? You’re like a young goat trying his strength for the first time and hitting his head against everythin’. Do you love your grandmother?”
“… No.”
“Then why ask this?”
“I have a fancy to help her breathe if I can. You’re helping a snake.”
The Grove of Eagles Page 26