“I see.”
“We’re not good friends with them. The families never liked each other. It’s some quarrel which goes back for generations. I am not quite sure what it was all about. It was long before my time. However, the Tregarlands and the Jermyns don’t mix.”
“A sort of Capulet and Montague affair?”
“It might be that.”
“That sort of thing is usually the result of something which doesn’t really matter at all. Then the daughter of one house marries the son of the other and all is happy ever after.”
“I have a vague idea that in this case it may have started something like that. So there would have to be a different sequel.”
I laughed.
“So we shall not meet the Jermyns,” I said.
“I can assure you that they will not be invited here.” He looked at me intently. “So you and your sister are twins,” he said.
“Yes.”
“There is a slight resemblance.”
“I think it is quite a strong one, and you say slight.”
He said: “Yes, I repeat, slight.”
I immediately thought: He means I am not as attractive as Dorabella and that he probably finds me rather dull.
I became intent on my food and he turned to my mother.
There was little conversation which I recalled after that, and when the meal was over we went back to the punch room where coffee was served; and after an hour or so Matilda Lewyth whispered to my mother that we must be tired after our journey and she was sure we should like to retire early.
My mother said that was a good idea, so the party broke up and we went to our rooms.
There was a fire in mine, yet the eeriness I had sensed on my arrival had increased. I went to the curtains and drew them back. There was enough moon to show a path of light across the water. I could hear the faint murmuring of the sea as it broke against the rocks below.
I turned back to the room. I would leave the curtains open. If I did not, I should feel shut in.
I waited for the door to open, for I guessed Dorabella would come in. I was right.
She looked beautiful in her blue silk nightdress and negligee, with her hair hanging about her shoulders.
She stood leaning against the door, smiling.
“You don’t have to look surprised,” she said. “You knew I’d come. What do you think of all this?”
“Interesting.”
“It’s more than that. It’s fascinating…meeting them all.”
“It must be for you, if you are going to be part of it…mistress of this place. Just think of it.”
“It’s a bit like Caddington, isn’t it? Except for the sea…we don’t have that.”
“Nor the people. What of them?”
“I say…what do you think of him?”
“As there were several members of the male sex, which one do you mean?”
“Gordon Lewyth, of course.”
“I don’t know him well enough to say.”
“You are maddening. You are so precise about everything. I mean what was your impression?”
“I think he wants everyone to know he is not merely the son of the housekeeper.”
“Well, Matilda Lewyth could hardly be called a housekeeper.”
“I don’t know enough about them yet. It’s all rather unusual.”
“Oh, it’s perfectly clear. She came here when Dermot’s mother died. It was a sort of favor. They were members of the family…poor relations, I imagine. I think she is very nice, don’t you? As for him…Gordon, I mean…well, I think he’s interesting. And…” She giggled. “I think he’s rather pleased…about me.”
“You’re not thinking of transferring your favors, are you?”
“Don’t be an idiot!”
“When you are married you will have to settle down, you know.”
“What’s all this about? I merely said I thought he was rather pleased…and interested.”
“I suppose anyone would be interested in someone who was going to join their family.”
She looked at me in exasperation, and I felt vaguely perturbed. She had fallen in love with Dermot at great speed. I wondered whether she could fall out of love as quickly. This was absurd. She had always been susceptible to admiration—and she would naturally assume that Gordon Lewyth’s interest was admiration.
She said: “I think the father liked me, too. He told me it would be a pleasure to have a pretty young girl about the place.”
“So you have made a good impression on your future in-laws.”
“I think so. Dermot wants to get married in the spring. Do you think that would be a good idea?”
“It seems rather soon. Has it occurred to you that this time last year you did not know him?”
“What’s that got to do with it?”
“Something, I should imagine. After all, you want to know quite a lot about people with whom you propose to spend the rest of your life.”
“Dermot and I know a good deal about each other.”
“And he still wants to marry you?” I retorted in mock surprise.
“Don’t tease! I think we are going to have an exciting time here. I was dreading it in a way. I did not think it would be like this. They have welcomed me so wonderfully…Matilda…and…Dermot’s father.”
“And Gordon Lewyth,” I said.
She frowned slightly. “I’m not altogether sure about him. He is not easy to know. I think he is very interested, but…”
I laughed at her. I said: “If Dermot’s father approves, that’s all that matters really. And as for Matilda…she likes you. I suppose she will continue to run the house and frankly, I can’t see you wanting to do that. I’m sure she can’t, either, and that will surely please her.”
She laughed.
“It is wonderful. I am sure about this, Vee…I really am. Particularly now I’ve seen it all.”
“Well, then, everything should be all right. So…should we say goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Twinnie.”
I smiled. It was the name she used for me when she was in some quandary from which she wanted me to extricate her. Now it was meant to be a reminder of the closeness between us, but I did wonder if she was quite as contented—and as certain—as she wanted me to believe.
When she had gone I undressed and got into bed.
I lay for a long time listening to the gentle swishing of the waves below and wondering what the future would be. She would marry and come here and we should be apart for the first time in our lives.
The days were full of interest. Dermot and Dorabella were together a great deal and he liked to take her riding, or they would go off in the car. He seemed very proud of her and he wanted to introduce her to some of the tenants and people in the neighborhood. She was enjoying it all immensely. My mother was very interested in the running of the house and my father in the estate, and consequently he had formed a friendship with Gordon, which was natural as they shared an enthusiasm.
That left myself who was interested in them all as people but shared no special enthusiasms with any of them.
My mother, of course, always drew me into whatever she was doing, and when Matilda Lewyth said she was eager to show her the house, she insisted that I would be interested to accompany them on a tour of it.
My father had gone off with Gordon to see some new contraption which was being put into one of the barns on the home farm, and Dorabella was with Dermot—so there were just the three of us.
Matilda was very knowledgeable about the house and she showed a great love for it. My mother said afterwards that she seemed to care about it more than James Tregarland did, or Dermot, for that matter, who would one day own it.
“I find these old places quite fascinating,” said Matilda. “It is amazing how they have stood up to attacks in the wars, and then there are the hazards of the weather. Mind you, they have taken their toll. After the gales there is usually something wrong…roofs of the farm buildings and so on…
fences blown down…and all that.”
“How far off is the home farm?” asked my mother.
“About half a mile. It’s close to Jermyn Priory…that’s the Jermyns’ place.”
“The enemy,” I said.
She laughed. “Oh, you’ve heard then.”
My mother wanted to know what we were talking about.
“There’s a feud between the two families,” Matilda explained. “It’s been going on for years. We’re not sure what it’s about. The details are lost in the past, but somehow it remains.”
“And they live nearby?”
“The estates border on each other.”
“That’s very close.”
“Not really. Jermyns is vast…bigger than this, and we are by no means small. We rarely see them.”
“And if you do,” I said, “I suppose you behave as though you don’t.”
“We might give a nod of recognition, but no more. I never heard what it was all about. It goes back far into the past.”
“You’d think it would be forgotten.”
“We Cornish keep these things going. We stick to the old ways and traditions. You English are inclined to let such things slide away. We don’t.”
“You mean you bear grudges?” I asked.
My mother looked at me sharply. I was noted for speaking my mind.
“Well,” said Matilda, “I suppose that sort of thing becomes a habit.”
“I wonder what it was all about,” said my mother.
Matilda lifted her shoulders and the matter was dropped as we examined the house.
“The main building is Elizabethan,” said Matilda. “But the west wing was added after the Restoration and the east after that…so it is a bit of a hotchpotch of periods.”
“Which makes it more interesting,” I said, and my mother agreed.
We first went to the great hall, which was one of the oldest parts of the house. It must have looked much the same when it was built. On its stone walls hung weapons from the past, perhaps to warn any intruders that this was a warlike family accustomed to defending itself. There was a long table.
“Cromwellian,” said Matilda, “and the chairs date from the reign of Charles II. The family were fiercely Royalist so that they had a bad time during the Protectorate, but all was well with the return of the King.”
Leading from the hall was the chapel. It was small with an altar, pulpit, and a row of pews. There was an atmosphere of chill in the place. I looked up at the waggon roof with its stone corbels, and then at the carved angels who appeared to be supporting the pulpit. I could imagine the family’s gathering here in times of tribulation—and rejoicing, too. A great deal would have happened in this chapel.
“It is not used a great deal now,” said Matilda. “James—Dermot’s father—says that when he was young there were prayers every morning and all the servants had to attend. He laughs and says he always declared that when he came into possession people should be left to look after their own souls without any help from the Tregarlands. James can be a little irreverent at times.” She was smiling indulgently.
We mounted the main staircase and were in the long gallery. Here were pictures of Tregarlands, which must have been painted over the last three hundred years. I recognized James Tregarland. I could detect that mischievous look in his eyes which I had noticed at our first meeting.
Matilda stood looking at him rather sadly.
“He has always lived very well,” she said. “He was one to enjoy life. He married late in life. She was quite young…his wife, I mean. She was delicate, though. She died when Dermot was very young.”
“And he didn’t marry again.”
She gazed at the picture. I could not understand the expression in her eyes.
She shook her head firmly. “It would have been the best thing,” she said. “The right thing…”
“Well,” said my mother. “It has all worked out very well. You look after them beautifully.”
“I do my best. If we take this staircase we come to the upper rooms.”
There were several bedrooms—one in which Charles I slept during the Civil War.
It was an interesting morning.
Our visit, which was to be of a week’s duration, was nearly over. During the day a strong wind blew up and by the evening it had become a gale.
We had heard them speak of the ferocity of the gales and during the morning my mother and I had gone into Poldown.
It was a charming place with the small river cutting the little town in half, so there were East and West Poldown.
In the harbor the fishing boats were tethered; they were bobbing up and down because of the rising wind. The Saucy Jane, The Mary Ann, The Beatrice, and Wonder Girl.
“Why,” I asked my mother, “are boats feminine?”
“Not all,” she answered. “Look. There’s The Jolly Roger.”
Seated on the stones the fishermen were mending their nets; overhead the gulls screeched, swooped, and rose again; the wind caught at our skirts and pulled at our hair.
Although we had been here such a short time, some of the inhabitants of Poldown seemed to know us. I had heard us referred to as “They folk up to Tregarland’s.” We walked through what was a sort of high street with shops on either side in which were displayed souvenirs…shells, ashtrays with “Poldown” printed on them, crockery, glassware, and little figures of strange creatures which I understood were piskies. There were buckets, spades, nets, and swimming gear. A smell of baking bread and cooking pervaded the air. We saw Cornish pasties and cakes for sale. It was a busy little place.
We bought a few things for the sheer pleasure of hearing the people speak.
“How be enjoying Poldown?” we were asked.
We told them very much.
“Ah, it be grand up there in the big house, certain sure. There be a real gale working up. I wouldn’t want to be out on the sea as it’ll be tonight…not for a farm, I wouldn’t. Old Nick himself ’ull be out there, looking for them as ’ull keep his fires going.”
We listened and thought it was all very quaint. Then we walked back to the house. It was hard going uphill against the wind which was blowing in from the south-west, and we were quite breathless when we reached the house.
Matilda said: “I’m glad you’re back. It’s no day to be out. I was afraid you might be blown off the cliff.”
That night we heard the full force of the gale. I looked down from my window on a sea which had become a seething torrent. The waves rose high and flung themselves against the house with such fury that I felt it might be battered to pieces. I could not believe that this raging fury was the same sea which a few days before had been so calm and pellucid…reflecting an azure blue sky. It was possessed of a maniacal anger and seemed intent on destruction.
I could not sleep. I lay listening to it and it was not until the dawn came that it started to abate.
The first thing I noticed when I awoke was that the wind had dropped. I went to the window. There were still frothy white horses riding the waves and I saw debris on the shore—broken pieces of wood and seaweed.
I dressed and went into Dorabella’s room.
“What a night!” she said. “I thought it was going to blow the house away.”
“We’ve now experienced one of the gales which they are always talking about.”
“It’s all right now, though. Dermot is going to take me into Plymouth today…for a special reason.” She looked a little arch.
“Ah,” I said. “The ring. Is that it?”
“How did you guess?”
“You know I always guess your thoughts. I detect that acquisitive look.”
“Our engagement ring! Isn’t it wonderful?”
“Yes,” I said. “Life can be wonderful.”
“What will you do?”
“I’d rather like to go for a ride this afternoon.”
“With whom?”
“I rather fancy my own company.”
“Do
you really mean that?”
“Yes. I would like to take dear old Starlight. That’s her name, isn’t it?”
“You mean the chestnut mare?”
“Yes. I like her and I don’t think she is averse to me.”
“I daresay no one will object.”
I did not think they would, either.
We breakfasted at odd times so that we could have it at our convenience to fit in with our plans.
My mother and I went down to the town in the morning. We saw that some of the fishing boats had broken their moorings and had drifted out to sea.
“These October gales can be something cruel,” Miss Polgenny, who ran the wool shop, told us. “We had warnings enough, I will say. Sometimes there be none. That can be terrible, I can tell ’ee. Why, Tommy Yeo was lost out there…him and his brother Billy. ’Twas said that they did meet parson on the way to the boats. Everyone do know that to see a parson before you sail be unlucky.”
My mother and I exchanged a glance. We should take a long time to learn all that must be done to escape the forces of evil.
My mother was buying some wool and Miss Polgenny gave her attention to that.
“ ’Twas three ply then, was it? And what a pretty color. You be going to enjoy work on that.”
She put the wool into a bag. I leaned forward to take it and in doing so dropped my glove. I stooped and picked it up.
“Oh,” said Miss Polgenny, looking at me with horror. “ ’Ee shouldn’t ’a done that. That means a disappointment before the end of the day.”
“What should I have done?” I asked.
“You should ’a left it there, me dear—and let someone else pick it up.”
“What sort of disappointment?” I asked.
“ ’Twill be someone you’ll meet and maybe ’twere better you didn’t. Now, if someone had picked it up for ’ee…that would have meant it would be someone it would be good for ’ee to meet.”
“Can we go back and do it again?”
“Oh, no, me dear. The die be cast. ’Tis done and there be no going back.”
My mother and I were laughing as we came out of the shop.
I said: “They must be constantly on their guard for fear of upsetting those influences which decide their fate.”
Time for Silence Page 37