by Sara Seale
one this time, my dear Doone. Pendragon had better watch out!"
CHAPTER FOUR I
IT was odd, thought Alice, having the Dragon meek and submissive under her ministrations. Seen at close quarters, with the pain she could not help inflicting creasing the hardness out of his face, he no longer looked alarming and she found that she minded very much that she was obliged to hurt him. His tongue might be sharp and, at times, unmerciful, but it was only he, of all of them, she realized with surprise, who was capable of being hurt in spirit, and she found herself wondering how much this meeting with his cousin meant to him, for Trelawny, she knew with certainty, was like the other Pendragons, arrogant and invulnerable.
"Don't weaken," Keir said once, watching her face. "You're making a good job, I should say."
"I'm afraid I'm hurting you," she answered and saw him smile a little grimly.
"That shouldn't worry you," he said dryly. "Like Doone, I've no doubt you think it serves me right."
"Oh, no, Pendragon, how can you think such a thing?" she said, and at the distress in her voice he said gently:
"That was childish of me. No, on the contrary, Alice Brown, I think you are too gentle, too vulnerable, perhaps, for the harsh humours of the Pendragons."
"But you, I think, are not like the others," she said, not funding it at all strange that she could talk to him in this manner.
"Indeed? And are you not a little afraid of me — like the others?"
"Sometimes — but I exepect that's just your manner."
"Smoke coming out of my nostrils?"
She smiled and began to bandage bis hand.
"Well, sometimes it does."
"And is that why you christened me the Dragon — behind my back, of course?"
She looked up at him, startled.
"Oh, did you know?" she said, a little dismayed. "Doone promised not to tell."
"You should know by now that my little sister can rarely resist a dig at my expense," he returned dryly.
"I'm sorry," she said, finishing the bandage off neatly, and he got to his feet.
"Don't let it distress you," he said. "I've no doubt I've been called worse things before this. Now, your prescribe a stiff drink for me and I'm going to prescribe the same for you. You were rash and brave, and very frightened, weren't you?"
"My knees shook — they always do," she admitted, and was aware that she was beginning to feel the reaction.
He saw the sudden whiteness of her face and put her into a chair.
"Now we'll reverse the procedure," he said, turning to the tray of bottles and decanters that always stood in the day-room. "You shall be my patient and I'll guarantee my treatment won't be as painful as yours."
"Oh, I did try not to hurt you," she said, suddenly very near to tears, and as he handed her a small glass of brandy his face was a curious mixture of impatience and tenderness.
"Alice — Alice — don't take me so literally," he chided her gently. "Drink that up, but drink it slowly. You'd about had it, hadn't you?"
She felt the tears hovering on her lashes, ready to fall, and said unsteadily:
"Don't be nice to me now, P-Pendragon, or I shall b-be idiotic."
"Well, be idiotic, if it helps," he replied. "If you become too emotional I shall emit smoke from my nostrils and wither you up again."
She sipped her brandy, not liking very much the fiery taste on her unaccustomed tongue. Outside, the sound of voices rose and fell, for the Pendragons had all foregathered now to welcome Trelawny, and presently the voices receded as they went round the house to the stables to shut up the greyhounds.
"Feeling better?" Keir asked, watching the faint color coming back into her face.
"Yes," she said, glad that in the end she had been able to hold back her tears. "You must think me a weakling, Pendragon, but — you are such a violent sort of family."
"Yes, I suppose we are. Could it be the lack of a good woman's influence, do you suppose?"
He was laughing at her, she knew, but she answered seriously: "Emma is a good woman," and saw the mockery die out of his eyes.
"Yes," he said wearily, "Emma is good — too good for Keverne. I shouldn't have insisted on the marriage, perhaps."
Her eyes grew wide.
"Is it true, then, that you made them marry?" she asked and saw his mouth tighten into its familiar lines of hardness.
"That's another of Doone's elaborations, I suppose," he said. "No, Alice, I didn't make them marry, as you put it. I exerted a certain influence which, at the time, neither of them seemed inclined to disregard, but I was wrong, perhaps. Now, what other crimes have been laid at my door?"
She thought of Doone's sly innuendos that he had in some way been responsible for her illness, but, in spite of his question, she did not think he would take kindly to further explanations.
"None that I know of," she answered evasively. "It's a pity Doone has this strange resentment towards you. You consider her welfare far more than Keverne does."
"Haven't you learnt that hero-worship — love, if you like — has nothing to do with a sense of fitness, or even gratitude?" he said with bitterness. "No, I suppose you're too young. Have you ever been in love, Alice?"
She was startled for a moment by the sudden, very personal question.
"No," she answered simply, and he smiled and filled his glass again then topped up her own.
"A little more of this and perhaps we would get really cosy," he said, with one eyebrow lifted, but he did not pursue the subject and she began to wonder, for the first time, if Doone had been right in her surmise that Pendragon would never love anyone, or, indeed need anyone,
and on this last thought, Trelawny walked into the room.
"Well!" she said. "A private drinking party for the afflicted. Did she fix you up nicely, Keir? May I?" she gestured towards the tray of drinks.
"Help yourself," he replied. He did not offer to pour a drink for her and she inspected the array of bottles, finally selecting her choice with the care of someone back on her own ground.
"Was it bad — the bite?" she asked with sudden softness, and before he could answer, Alice said:
"Bad enough. It will have to be stitched, I'm afraid. I shall ring Dr. Mackinnon after lunch."
Trelawny favored her with a bright, inquisitive stare.
"Have you got Pendragon tamed already?" she asked and, not waiting for a reply, turned to Keir.
"It's a long time, isn't it?" she said. "But you've none of you changed. Does Merryn still commune with his fish? It was amusing to see Keverne's son and heir for the first time."
"Amusing?"
"I think so — but he can't inherit, can he, Keir?"
"No. Only my own son can do that."
Trelawny looked at him over the rim of her glass, her eyes as mocking as his.
"And you're still heartwhole?" she asked softly, and he replied as softly:
"As heartwhole as you, my dear. The Pendragons don't yield very easily to tender feelings, as you should know."
Alice, lost in her big chair, knew they had forgotten her, but she had become used to this odd trait by now, and the unaccustomed brandy made her forget her natural embarrassement. She watched them both with interest, wondering what bond there had been between them, and remembering that someone had said that now Trelawny hid inherited her father's share in the mine Pendragon might decide to end his celibacy. At this recollection, she sighed profoundly, experiencing a sudden distaste for the whole idea, and Trelawny looked across at her.
"I'm afraid we bore you, Miss Brown," she said. "Doesn't Doone need your attention?"
"No," Alice replied with an amiable smile. "Mrs. Biddle sees to her lunch."
Keir took the empty glass gently from Alice's fingers and put it on the tray.
"I've made you a little tipsy, I fear," he said with a grin. "How do you feel?"
"Cosy," said Alice, snuggling further back in the chair. "Like you said, Pendragon."
He ruffled her
hair with the same careless gesture he sometimes used with Doone, and Trelawny gave them both a blank, hard stare, and wandered over to the fireplace.
"I see you've had Horace nicely stuffed and displayed," she said. "What a beauty he is! Did you ever tell Miss Brown the sequel to that exciting episode?"
"Alice is scarcely interested in big-game angling," he replied, as he once had to Doone, and Alice, teased again by the slight air of mystery which seemed to be attached to the catching of the shark, said clearly:
"I would like to know more, Miss Pendragon. It is very dangerous — catching sharks, I mean?"
Trelawny did not turn, but remained gazing up at the mako, but her strong, straight back seemed to tighten.
"My name isn't Pendragon," she answered shortly, as though the admission annoyed her. "And dangerous — well, what would you say Keir?"
"There's danger in any sport, if the rules aren't observed," he replied as shortly, and she turned to look at him, her eyes shining.
"Will you take me again when the season starts?" she asked, and her face was suddenly alive with a vivid, somehow avid beauty.
"I don't know that I shall go again," he answered, and her full mouth curved in a provocative smile.
"Not chicken-hearted, surely?" she said. "Oh, well, Keverne will take me. He was always the boy for fun."
"Keverne has a wife and child now," Keir reminded her smoothly, and she gave him a look of pure devilment from under her long lashes.
"Of course — Pendragon's safeguard," she countered ambiguously. "But you could have served your ends better by other means."
He did not reply, and the two younger Pendragons came noisily into the room followed by Emma who announced that lunch was ready.
Trelawny stayed with them all day, wandering about the place restlessly, first with Keverne, then with Merryn to inspect the aquarium, finally annexing Keir when the doctor had been to stitch his hand, to accompany her to the stables in order to admire her greyhounds. They were away a long time and it was getting dark when they finally returned. Keir, thought Alice, looked strained and a little grim, but Trelawny's vivid beauty seemed to have blossomed anew. She appeared intent, now, to distribute her favors indiscriminately, teasing the three brothers with a racy wit that matched their own, spending an hour charming an enthralled Doone with tales of her travels abroad, and even including Alice in the general desire to please; but by the end of the day, Keverne was becoming rude and sulky, Merryn had retired to the solace of his aquarium, and Keir sat observing his cousin with a strange expression.
Emma had brought the baby down, as she usually did on Sunday afternoons when everyone was at home, but that evening she made her excuses early and went up to the nursery, and Alice followed her.
"Can I help bath him?" she asked, partly because she enjoyed being allowed to do anything for the baby, partly because she liked the old-fashioned nursery where Pendragon must once have played and quarrelled and perhaps wept, like any other small boy, and partly because she was aware of Emma's dumb unhappiness.
Emma granted permission with apparent indifference, but when the child lay, pink and kicking on her lap to be powdered, she looked across at Alice with faint apology in her blue eyes.
"I hope Trelawny wasn't rude to you," she said and Alice smiled.
"Not really. She found me in the way at times, I think, but in her eyes I must just be another Zombie," she said.
"Trelawny's eyes are very sharp. She didn't like the fuss you made over Pendragon's hand."
"It was a very nasty wound and must have been extremely painful," said Alice stubbornly. "I must have hurt him when I dressed it. I'm not very skilled in first-aid."
Emma looked at her across the baby and her smile was a little sly.
"You're quite fond of him, I think," she said and Alice stared.
"Fond?" she repeated frowning. "Can one get fond of dragons — I mean Pendragons?"
"I don't know," replied Emma thoughtfully, as if for her such a problem had never arisen. "But Keir isn't like the others, deep down underneath, you know."
"You once told me you didn't understand him," Alice said slowly.
"I don't think I do. He's a difficult man to know. For all that, he's human, like the rest of us."
Alice was silent, watching the smooth brown head bent over the baby, seeing the unawareness in the still face, which she had once taken for apathy. The more she had come to know Emma the more she had apreciated the hidden strength that must lie in her. Keverne's half-hearted overtures annoyed her principally on his wife's account.
"Emma — does it upset you that Trelawny's come back?" she asked tentatively.
"On account of Keverne, you mean? No. They had a wild, headlong affair that came to nothing before we married, but it was always Pendragon she was after."
"And he — Pendragon, I mean?"
Emma shrugged.
"Who knows what Pendragon wants? He could have had her then, I suppose, if he'd been prepared to shut his eyes to her affair with Keverne, and now — well, she holds an equal share in the mine with him, since her father died. He might think it good business."
Alice's romantic illusions were outraged.
"And you call him human!" she exclaimed so passionately that, for a moment, Emma looked quite startled.
"One can be human and still have a sense of proportion when it comes to business," she said quietly. "The quarry yields enough for our needs but the mine isn't paying. You're very young, Alice. It isn't always love that makes the world go round, you know."
"No, I suppose not," Alice replied humbly, aware that gentle, sentimental Aunt Brown had been the last person to fit her with a philosophy with which to meet this present day world.
"Maybe for you it will be different," Emma said, wishing to console. "But watch your step with Trelawny, my dear. She knows just what she wants from life and you're no match for her."
"Why should I stand in her way?" asked Alice in surprise.
"I don't think you would," Emma replied calmly. "But you might get hurt in the process of being kicked out." Alice experienced a strange little flutter of panic as if already it was too late to draw back, that plain Alice Brown had somehow lost her identity with the rest of the world.
"There will be no need for me to be kicked out," she said with dignity. "I've just remembered — my month is up today. I'd forgotten, with dog-fights and everything else, that I'd meant to give in my notice to Pendragon. I'll do it tonight." "
"Had you meant to leave us, then?"
"Yes."
Emma sighed.
"Perhaps you aren't up to Polrame weight, after all," she said. "But Doone will miss you."
As she came downstairs from the nursery and went into Doone's room to begin getting her ready for bed, Alice felt a sense of guilt at Emma's last words, The child, she knew, was genuinely attached to her; her condition had improved steadily during the past month, and only today, when Dr. Mackinnon had come to stitch Keir's hand, he had told them that under Alice's supervision, the child should be in normal health by the end of the summer. What, she wondered, as Doone stretched out eager arms at sight of her, was a fresh succession of Zombies going to do to a little girl who only needed to be treated like other children to be made whole and strong again?
"Where have you been all this time? Didn't you like Trelawny? Why didn't you all come and have tea in here?" The child hurled the string of questions at her with the old familiar truculence, but she clung to Alice all the same,
reaching up to kiss her with savage abandon. She was overexcited with the day's happenings, and Alice knew this was a time when crossness and rudeness must be ignored.
"I was helping to bath the baby," she said soothingly. "You ought to come up, sometimes, and watch, Doone. He's such a fat, chuckly sort of baby."
"He's dull," said Doone fretfully. "He's not like any of us. He's not like any of us. He takes after Emma, poor thing."
"Well, that will be a change when he grows up," said
Alice sensibly. "You don't want every Pendragon to look the same, do you?"
"Keverne's son should look like him," the child said, jealous, as always, that for Keverne things should always ge well. "You didn't like Trelawny, did you?"
"I only met her for the first time today. You can't form honest opinions so quickly."
"I can. I liked you at once, but Trelawny didn't like you at all. I can always tell."
"I don't suppose she thought twice about me. I'm just another Zombie to her," said Alice briskly.
Doone eyed her uncertainly,
"I expect she thinks you've got designs on Pendragon," she said, then, with smug satisfaction. "She couldn't know that you don't like him any more than I do."
"That's not true," said Alice, forgetting her intention to ignore rudeness. "And you're a horrid, ungrateful little girl. Pendragon considers you more than anyone else in the house."
"Because he has to — because it's all his fault."
" What is all his fault? You're always hinting at something, Doone, and I know very well half your stories aren't true."
"Oh, well, it doesn't matter," the child said vaguely as if she had not a very clear idea of what had been in her mind. "Pendragon is walking part of the way back with Trelawny so he'll be late. Keverne wanted to, but of course Pendragon had to spoil his fun — just as he spoilt the fight this morning."
"Oh, Doone, you really are most tiresome!" Alice exclaimed, exasperated.
"Yes, I know," said Doone, suddenly docile. "I don't, you see, want Pendragon to have Trelawny."
"You shouldn't bother about such grown-up things," Alice said, beginning to unbutton the child's dress. "Your cousin's been away a long time."
"It won't make any difference," Doone said sleepily. "Pendragon always gets what he wants."
II
It was an ominous note, Alice thought, upon which to cross swords with Pendragon, and when towards the end of supper he came in very late and sat down in his place at the head of the table without speaking a word, she knew that his mood was not propitious. Keverne, of course, had to make some crude enquiry as to how Keir and Trelawny had passed the time going home across the moor, but he got short shrift, and after that they all sat silent until Emma suggested that none of them should wait for Pendragon to finish.