Tonight, I decided, I should no longer be the wild haired, coltish governess that Armanell had so obviously considered me. It was childish of me, I knew, but I was determined to make an impression.
I would wear one of the dresses I had bought when I had first learned that I was Diana’s heir—yards of floating rainbow silk organdie. It was a Jules Remy creation and hideously expensive, but had actually been purchased as a sort of anodyne. I had been hoping to assuage the sense of loss I had experienced when Diana had died, but of course it had not served its purpose. I had worn it only once and had then tucked it away, feeling slightly ashamed of such extravagance. But now I brought it down from the wardrobe with a sense of defiance. Tonight I would no longer be simply ‘the tall girl’. Somehow Armanell’s designation had rankled: it implied that I was raw-boned and awkward in comparison to her dainty porcelain-like beauty. But in this dress my tallness was a definite advantage.
I studied myself severely in the long mirror, grimly assessing my good points. I would wear my hair in a sophisticated loop at the nape of my neck, I decided, and with it I would wear my Victorian necklace and long ear-rings of turquoise and seed pearls. These at least I could call my own, as they had been my great-grandmother’s.
It was as I was studying myself in the mirror, more like a general going into battle than a governess invited to dinner, that I heard a knock at the door and Eunice’s untidy head appeared around the edge like a bedraggled chrysanthemum. She was more dishevelled than ever and two hectic spots of excitement burned on her cheekbones.
‘Hilda tells me you’ve been asked to join Garth and Armanell at dinner,’ she informed me when I asked her to come in.
She shut the door behind her conspiratorially as though suspecting eavesdroppers.
‘Well, all I can say is,’ she said sardonically, ‘that you can consider yourself honoured. I should have thought that Garth would have made sure of having Armanell to himself on her first night here.’
I laughed, ‘Then I should be flattered!’
‘Garth has never been the sort of man who considers social niceties. After all, why should he? Giles is dead and he is master of Tregillis. Why should he bother to observe any of the conventional decencies?’
I looked at her curiously. It was as though her words were designed to convey more than they actually said. ‘I don’t understand,’ I said slowly.
For a long moment she regarded me. ‘Has it not occurred to you that there was something singularly opportune about the fact that Giles died when he did? Armanell had become a widow and Tregillis was the type of home she would consider favourably. Yes, Giles’s death was singularly convenient—especially when he was no longer able to take care of himself!’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
She hesitated, then said, in a sort of rush, ‘Well, I suppose you’ll learn of it sooner or later. Someone’s bound to speak—Mrs.
Kinnefer, or the servants, or Paul Newsom, or his housekeeper, Verity Brett! Everyone knew about Giles, especially when it became obvious.’
I stared at her in bewilderment. ‘But what became obvious?’
‘Let’s face it,’ she said gruffly, ‘Giles began to drink heavily after Diana and her mother left him. It was as though he no longer had any purpose in life. He began to grow morose, suspicious, and the more he drank the worse he became. Sometimes there were the most dreadful scenes between himself and Paul. I often wondered how Paul stood it—hideous accusations, and wild denunciations. Of course he was ill—I know that now. It was he who had wanted Diana to go with her mother, but it was as though he were signing his own death-warrant. People who didn’t understand began to hate him. I know that. I suppose it was inevitable—he was so bitter and wild and unrestrained in his denunciations. But I understood, and I think he was grateful for that.’
I stared at her in surprise. This was such a different picture from that I had conjured up of Diana’s father—the gentle, scholarly, retiring man, whom she portrayed in her diaries and in her conversations with me.
‘You mean,’ I said at last, ‘that he became an alcoholic?’
She shrugged. ‘If you like to put it that way! But something horrible and sinister overcame Giles when Diana left. I think he realized that she would never come again to Tregillis and a bit of him died. After that he looked for nothing but oblivion.’
Yes, but it was not quite as simple as that, I realized. People must have hated Giles—this new, bitter, venomous Giles—before his death. Someone perhaps had planned his death. I remembered Verity’s words concerning Paul, that he had ‘let unpleasant bygones be bygones’. Yes, as Eunice had pointed out, Giles’s death had been singularly opportune for Garth. Armanell, whom he had once loved, was suddenly a widow. Giles’s death had followed at a fortunate moment from his point of view. I felt confused and disturbed when Eunice at last left me.
I dressed slowly, my mind a seething mass of speculation, and when at last I arrived at the small dining-room I felt a sort of icy detached calmness that served me well. Candlelight glimmered on the miniatures and gave a close intimacy that was belied by the cold assessing glance that Armanell cast on me when I appeared in the doorway. It was as though she were inaudibly restraining a gasp of surprise at my appearance. I was aware of Garth studying me, his dark eyes lit by a new awareness, although his manner still held his tight reserve. I was triumphantly conscious that tonight he no longer regarded me as Emile’s frumpish governess. Paul Newsom, however, made no secret of his feelings. His glance held open admiration and he hung on the smallest utterance I made as though it were the height of wit.
I knew, of course, that it was all part of his approach to women, but in spite of that, it was impossible not to be flattered by his attentions. In fact, I was much too euphoric in my triumph, unaware of how the wind was blowing as far as Armanell was concerned. It was only as the dinner was practically ending that I realized that she was observing me with narrow-eyed suspicion.
‘But your frock is simply beautiful,’ she cooed. ‘It’s a Jules Remy, isn’t it?’
In my confusion I nodded. ‘Yes,’ I agreed.
I saw her eyes open wide. ‘Indeed! Governesses have apparently very much changed their way of life since I was a girl. I know at least they didn’t purchase their dresses at Remy’s. My own governess used to wear the most dreary sagging cardigan suits.’
I felt dismayed. The eyes of everyone at the table were on me and I felt relief when Garth said abruptly, ‘What about a walk in the garden? I always think the roses are at their best at this time of the evening.’
Immediately Armanell dropped the subject of my dress and appeared all enthusiasm for his suggestion.
We were together as we went out into the grounds but gradually, as we strolled through the rose gardens we divided into two separate groups; Garth and Armanell walking ahead while Paul and I fell behind.
It was a glorious night, still and moonlit, and the garden seemed to be suffused with the heady scent of the roses.
My eyes were on Garth and Armanell strolling ahead—he looming even taller than usual against the petite size of Armanell.
Her arm was through his and her tiny, perfect face was tilted to listen to some remark of his. Her curious silvery, tinkling laughter came back to us and it was not for a moment that I realized the significance of what Paul was saying.
‘Am I too late?’ he was asking.
‘What?’ I dragged my attention away from the couple before us.
‘Too late? In what way?’ But I knew from his tone what he was trying to convey.
‘I mean are you strictly a bird of passage? Will you fly away again as soon as Emile’s accent is sufficiently tamed to enable him to attend an English school without suffering too much persecution?
Will you disappear back to where you came from—and to the man who is undoubtedly waiting impatiently for your return?’
‘There’s no one waiting for my return,’ I said lightly.
We had stop
ped by a fountain. The moon glittered on the water and a great clump of golden roses grew against the grey stone of the basin.
Immediately I regretted what I had said because he took it as encouragement and put his arms around me. ‘If there’s no one else in your life won’t you consider me? Oh, I can’t give you the sort of things that Garth gives Armanell, and you look so sophisticated and unattainable with your hair done up and in that beautiful frock.’
‘But I don’t want that sort of life,’ I put in.
He looked relieved. ‘In that case then, why hesitate? You and I are birds of a feather. We’re both in Garth’s employ. Why shouldn’t we join forces? You’re the only girl I could ever care for. I fell for you the first time I met you.’
Slowly but firmly I pulled away from him. ‘I know all about you,’ I said lightly. ‘You have a penchant for falling in love.’
‘Now whoever told you that?’
But I had no intention of betraying Verity and remained silent.
‘It’s a calumny and a lie,’ he said. ‘I must have an enemy at court. Goodness knows, it would be impossible to fall in love with the frumps who’ve come to Tregillis. Although, in some ways, Melinda was a blessing. She got rid of them—gave them short shrift.’
‘But they can’t all have been frumps,’ I pointed out teasingly.
But he was not to be diverted. ‘They most certainly were,’ he insisted solemnly. ‘Without exception, hideous—but I see you don’t believe me.’
‘No, I don’t,’ I laughed.
‘Look, Judith,’ he said seriously. ‘I’m not such a Casanova as you so obviously consider me. I haven’t a lot of money and I can’t take you wining and dining at expensive places as Garth takes Armanell. All I can offer you are simple pleasures. You see, I don’t come from Garth’s background: I lived in the village and went to school with Verity.’
I nodded.
‘You knew?’ He sounded surprised, then frowningly added,
‘Yes, of course, Verity would have told you. Anyway, I always wanted something better than being the school’s brightest boy, so I studied hard and got a scholarship.’ He shrugged. ‘Well, to make a long story short, I grew away from my background.’
And away from Verity too, I thought.
‘Now I’m accepted by Garth and his friends, but financially there’s an abyss between us. You’ve seen our home, haven’t you?
I’ve no way of repaying the hospitality I receive from Garth or his friends, so I allow myself to be patronized,’ he added with uncharacteristic bitterness.
‘Simple pleasures?’ I said lightly. ‘You were speaking of simple pleasures. Just what do you mean? Such as?’
Immediately he reverted to his normal bantering tone. ‘I’ve been screwing up my courage to ask you to come along to a carnival that’s coming to the district. Do say yes.’
‘I haven’t much difficulty in saying that,’ I told him with a laugh.
‘There’s nothing I’d like better. I adore the chairoplanes, and push-penny, and the dodgems.’
‘That’s terrific,’ he said with satisfaction. ‘Then it’s a date.’
In the scented darkness I could faintly hear Armanell’s low laugh and French accent. What were she and Garth saying to each other in the velvety darkness? I suddenly felt lonely; an outsider.
They had each other and I had no one. Why was I turning down Paul’s offer of romance?
‘Do you know,’ he whispered, ‘when you came downstairs tonight suddenly I was afraid of you. You no longer looked like the girl who had first come here and, believe me, it took all my courage to suggest anything as mundane as a carnival.’
I discounted much of this as Paul’s habitual flattery. At the same time I knew it was true I looked different tonight—groomed and sophisticated, full of the self-confidence that a wonderful dress designed by a craftsman could inspire!
‘Tell me that you’re beginning to care a little,’ he said softly.
‘But, Paul, we’ve just met!’
‘That’s true,’ he agreed, ‘but I think I fell for you that very first moment when you stepped off the train.’
‘Like all the other girls you’ve been madly in love with?’
‘There you go again,’ he said sullenly.
I laughed. ‘Oh, Paul, no one need take away your character.
You’re such an obvious Casanova.’
‘So there is someone else!’ he said.
It was plain that Paul thought that if a girl didn’t immediately fall for his line of flattery it was because her affections must be engaged with someone else.
Again I heard Armanell’s light laugh and I strained my ears in an attempt to discover the relationship between herself and Garth.
Paul must have felt me stiffen at the sound of her laughter, because he said shrewdly, ‘I think I know what’s happened! You’re like all the other governesses who ever came here, you’ve fallen for Garth.’
‘Even the ugly ones?’ I said acidly.
He nodded. ‘Even the ugly ones.’
‘Well, you’re wrong,’ I said firmly. ‘I don’t love him. How could I? He’s the type of man I loathe; dictatorial, overbearing, arrogant!’
‘You protest a little too much,’ he said dryly.
‘No, I don’t. I’m just trying to convince you how utterly ridiculous it is of you to think I could fall in love with a man like Garth Seaton. Anyway, he doesn’t know I’m alive!’
It was true, I thought. There was not a soul in the world who cared for me or what became of me, and the knowledge brought with it a terrible loneliness. What had brought me to Tregillis in the first place? It had been the single-minded determination to find out the truth about Diana’s father’s death: that was what I had come for.
At that time I had perhaps had a vague idea of doing vengeance on Garth Seaton if I discovered he was in fact responsible for Giles Seaton’s death.
Since then, however, my attitude had changed: somehow I had got caught up in the life here at Tregillis and my intentions had become blurred. Garth Seaton, I now knew, was a complete enigma to me: I did not understand him in the least: I could not guess what he would or would not do in any given circumstances.
Nor, for that matter, did I understand Paul! There was something elusive, something that seemed to flicker in the depths of his eyes even when he was at his most light and bantering, and I suspected that his role of Casanova might be adopted as a mask to hide a deep and devious character. There had been violent scenes between Paul and his employer. How had Paul taken this? I knew nothing of him except that he had a smooth and facile tongue skilled in how to flatter a girl and boost her self-confidence. Suddenly in the moonlight his shadowed face turned towards me seemed sinister and unreadable.
But I thrust the thought away from me. Was I letting my mind become clouded with suspicion? Paul was more or less what he appeared, I told myself: he was simply a rather weak young man who tended to convince himself that he fell in love with every girl he met. He was a pleasant enough companion for the evening.
However short-lived his adoration might be, it was real while it lasted. Why should I not accept what he offered?
Would it be so wrong to lay aside for a little while the object of my quest—to forget, here in the moonlit garden where the air was full of the scent of roses, the mission that had brought me to Tregillis? Could I not snatch at the moment and what it offered—as, no doubt, Garth was now seizing a moment of intimacy with Armanell?
He was quick to sense the change in my mood and his arms were around me and we were kissing, but even in his kiss I felt no thrill of pleasure.
I heard laughter and, turning my head, found myself staring into Armanell’s eyes. ‘How romantic!’ Her light voice seemed to trill with amusement. ‘Moonlight and the scent of roses! What could make a better setting?’
Guiltily I sprang apart from Paul, then resented my own impulsive reaction. It was ridiculous to feel this way—after all, it was fairly obvious that
Armanell and Garth had not been wasting their time.
Then I realized that my embarrassment sprang from the fact that from the tall figure who stood shadowed by the tree behind her emanated an unmistakable sense of anger—and was it also contempt? Did Garth despise me for falling so readily for Paul’s obvious line of approach?
But then again what business was it of his? I asked myself, as I regained my poise.
I turned to Paul and almost defiantly said, ‘I’ll be delighted to take you up on your invitation.’ Then I turned away to the sound of Armanell’s tinkle of silvery laughter.
During the next few days Paul’s invitation, simple as it was, came to mean a great deal to me. It was a sort of carrot held out to entice me onward, for, from that evening, I hardly saw Garth or Armanell. They would leave early in the morning, sometimes just after breakfast, and often would not return until late at night.
Occasionally, lying in bed, I would awake in the early hours of the morning to hear the car door banging and the sound of that now familiar light trilling laugh and once, when out of curiosity I got up and peeped out, I was in time to catch a glimpse of a tiny figure in a pale shimmering evening wrap, before it disappeared into the house.
My time was now spent almost exclusively in the company of the children. There were no more invitations to join Garth and Armanell at dinner. But then they were frequently away from home and it seemed only natural that, on the few occasions when they did dine at Tregillis, they should want to be alone.
Occasionally I would catch a tantalizing glimpse of them, but always at a distance; such as the day I saw them riding together through the woods. It was clear even to me, who knew nothing of such things, that Armanell was a magnificent horsewoman. Ignorant as I was, I could see at a glance the confident way she handled her spirited mount.
As I watched, the two children had run on ahead, but I must have shown too obvious an interest, for when Melinda raced back, I was startled to hear her say with every evidence of malice, ‘You’re watching Armanell, aren’t you? She looks marvellous at a distance, but you should see her without her make-up. She’s not a bit pretty.’
Garth of Tregillis Page 13