Time for Silence

by Philippa Carr

  “Poor girl!” I said.

  “Poor girl, indeed. But a common enough story. Certainly nowadays there is more freedom of choice. But in those days the will of Papa was the law. However, the son of Tregarland was young and handsome. His name was Dermot.”

  “Oh, the same…”

  “These names run in families. Tregarland’s is spattered with Dermots. I am by no means the first Jowan in mine.”

  “The way the story is going, I guess that Dermot and Araminta fell in love.”

  “You are absolutely right. How could it have been otherwise? At that time there was no feud between the families. I gather that the finances at Tregarland were in no more healthy a state than those of Jermyn; in any case poor Araminta’s future had been decided. She was to marry her wealthy admirer, restore the crumbling family mansion, forgo true love, and learn to live happily ever after with the husband of her father’s choice.”

  “Which she did not. It is really very sad.”

  “Indeed, it is. Dermot Tregarland was not a man to stand aside and let his love be whisked from him. He made plans. He was going to elope. There was treachery somewhere and the news leaked out. It might have been through the servants. They are like detectives in our houses, especially so in those days where there were many more of them. However, it became known to the Jermyns that their daughter was planning to elope with her Tregarland lover who was to creep into the grounds by night when she would slip out to meet him. It was easy to lock her in her room, but they set a trap for him. There was a fearsome contraption which they used to set in the woods to warn off poachers. It was called a man-trap. Well, the outcome was that when Dermot came for his bride he was caught in the trap.”

  “Did it kill him?”

  “Unfortunately for him, no. It was not meant to kill. His leg was so mangled that he could never use it again.”

  “What a terrible story! I am not surprised that the Tregarland family hated yours.”

  “It was terrible. But that was not the end. Araminta, broken-hearted, locked in her room, was unable to get out while her lover lay in agony on the trap until in the morning one of the servants found him.”

  “Surely they were punished for doing such a cruel thing!”

  “They had a good defense. There was a robbery in the neighborhood. They were protecting their property. Man-traps were not unknown. It was reckoned that those who were caught in them had no right to be in that spot.”

  “And what happened to the lovers?”

  “Dermot Tregarland was an embittered cripple for the rest of his life.”

  “And Araminta…did she marry the rich suitor?”

  “The preparations for the wedding went on. Everyone thought the marriage would take place. There were to be great festivities…a grand ball…”

  “And what about the Tregarlands? Did they retaliate? They had not wanted the match, but…”

  “What could the lovers do? Dermot was lying in his bed knowing that he would never walk without crutches again. He was in no state to stage a romantic rescue. Araminta took matters into her own hands. The night before the wedding, she went down to the sea. She walked into it and never came back.”

  “What a terrible story! So she killed herself, and her lover was maimed for the rest of his life.”

  “Pretty strong stuff, you see. In a way it makes you understand the feud.”

  “But all those years ago! Do you feel this hatred? After all, Araminta was one of your family.”

  “Well, the Tregarlands were wronged more than we were. We were, after all, the instigators. It was my great-great (I am not sure how many greats) grandfather who set the trap which gave Dermot Tregarland the scars for the rest of his life. They have more reason to hate us than we have to hate them. Araminta died by her own hand because of the cruelty of her own family. Over the years which followed the tragedy, they provoked us wherever possible. Anger flared up between us. Throughout his life that Dermot could not forget that we had not only robbed him of his love but maimed him for ever.”

  “It’s a sad story, but I am glad I know. It was about a hundred years ago, you say. It is rather a long time for something to fester like that. None of the people concerned in it are living now.”

  “That Dermot would have been about twenty years old when it happened to him, and he lived until he was sixty—nearly forty years of smoldering resentment. It takes a long time to eradicate. The story was handed down. The family would be taught to hate those wicked Jermyns. They would be told not to go near our land. We were the ogres…it was awkward, our being neighbors.”

  “I understand it more now. I am glad you told me.”

  “Oh. It is something best forgotten.”

  “Yes, I agree. After all, those of you who are living now are not to blame and, when you think of the terrible things that have happened in the past, there must be many similar stories.”

  He smiled. “Yes. It should be forgotten. This is a rather depressing story, isn’t it? Are you feeling better now?”

  “Much.”

  “That’s good.”

  “I wonder how Jake is getting on.”

  “He will do a good job.”

  “It must be rather strange, living in a place like this and never speaking to those whose lands are closest to yours.”

  “Oh, the feud again! It can have its awkward moments. When people invite guests, if the Jermyns are included the Tregarlands won’t be and vice versa. We are like strangers to each other. But people come down here more and more nowadays. During the holiday season there are many strange faces around. There is no problem, really.”

  “I think it is a shame nevertheless.”

  “No doubt.”

  “You do not bear any rancor?”

  “Why should I? We were the ones who inflicted the damage, though the Tregarlands were as much against the match as we were. The Jermyn fortunes were at the time in decline with those of the Tregarlands. They did not want the marriage any more than we did. So both of the young people would have been forbidden to marry their choice. The course of true love never did run smooth, you know.”

  He was anxious to introduce a light note into the conversation and the story of the star-crossed lovers had brought a touch of gloom. I could not help thinking of how that poor girl must have felt when she walked into the sea; and there was the young man who was crippled for life. Hers was perhaps the easier fate.

  He asked about my home and we talked of Caddington and my parents, of Dorabella and how she and I had left school only that summer.

  A great deal had happened since then.

  There was something about him which led me into talking more than I normally would have done to a stranger, and soon I was telling him about what had happened in the schloss.

  He looked grave and said he had heard of the youth movement which was growing very strong in Germany. He was not sure of their new leader, though he had heard that he had done a lot of good for the country.

  “You will not wish to go there again for a while,” he said. “But when your sister marries, I daresay you will be visiting here.”

  “I imagine we shall. We have been together all our lives…as twins are.”

  “Of course.”

  “So I can be confident that we shall meet again.”

  “It seems possible. Which reminds me—they will be wondering what has happened to me. Do you think the horse will be ready now?”

  “We’ll see. I imagine it is possible.”

  We rose. Mrs. Brodie gave me a pleasant smile and I guessed it would not be long before others knew that the guest from Tregarland’s had been in her inn parlor with Jowan Jermyn.

  In the smithy’s the smell of burning hoof filled the air and Starlight was standing patiently while Jake put the finishing touches to her shoe.

  “There,” he said. “She’ll do a treat…a real treat. That be better, eh, old girl?”

  I was wondering about paying.

  Jake guessed my thoughts.
>
  “That be all right, Miss. I’ll put it to Tregarland’s. ’Tain’t the first time I’ve done this for Starlight.”

  As we rode away, I told Jowan Jermyn again how grateful I was to him.

  “I cannot think what I should have done if you had not come along when you did, Mr. Jermyn.”

  “I am known quite often as J.J. It’s the name you see, Jowan Jermyn. Alliteration’s artful aid. Not so artful on this occasion. Perhaps a little clumsy.”

  “Not in the least.”

  “Oh, you are determined to be tactful. At school, they became impatient with the two Js and dropped one of them. Jay. I am not sure that I like it. Jay! What is it! A bird. The dictionary says it is also a foolish person. A person who acts recklessly. One who crosses the road recklessly and is liable to be run over is a jay walker. You see, I am rather hoping that, apart from that artful bird, I am not very aptly named.”

  “What’s in a name? What of Violetta?”

  “What of it?”

  “It happens to be mine.”

  “It’s charming.”

  “From the opera, of course. And my sister is Dorabella.”

  “The twin. Also charming. I can’t speak for Dorabella, but you do not really bear a resemblance to La Traviata.”

  We rode through the field.

  “Keep clear of the trees,” he went on. “In case another should fall. I’ll have them inspected as soon as possible. There may well be others. I expect to be getting a list of damages on the farms, etc.”

  We had passed through the fields and come to one of the winding lanes. When we reached the end of it we came to a wider thoroughfare.

  He pulled up. “This marks the boundary between Tregarland and Jermyn land. We don’t trespass. Do you know where you are now?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “Go straight along…you’ll soon see the sea. So I will say goodbye, or perhaps au revoir, because, if you come down to see your sister, we shall meet again. In secret, perhaps, because your sister will be a Tregarland. Would you agree to such subterfuge?”

  “I think I might.”

  He bowed his head and lifted his hat. “Then, Miss Violetta, au revoir.”

  I started to thank him again but he cut me short.

  “It has been a great pleasure for me,” he said.

  “For me, too,” I told him.

  He turned his horse with an air of reluctance, and, smiling, I did the same, and rode back to Tregarland’s.

  There was consternation when I arrived. Where had I been? My mother was anxious. She had expected me back before this.

  I told her briefly what had happened.

  “Lost her shoe! Good Heavens, you might have had a bad fall!”

  “She’s a wonderful horse. Mr. Jermyn said so.”

  “Mr. Jermyn?”

  Then it was necessary to tell her everything. Matilda Lewyth arrived and heard what had happened.

  “He was very good,” I explained. “In fact he was particularly kind and helpful.”

  “Did he know you came from Tregarland’s?”

  “Oh, yes. I told him I was staying here. He knew something about Dorabella. He says there is a good news service and the blacksmith’s is one of the headquarters of it. After falling off…but not badly, because Starlight was stationary…it was rather fun and quite amusing.”

  “Well, I am glad it turned out like that,” said my mother. “It might have been so different.”

  Dorabella returned from Plymouth with a beautiful diamond ring which delighted her. She showed it round with great pleasure and that night, as she was officially engaged, champagne was brought up from the cellars and my afternoon’s adventure slipped into insignificance.

  Dorabella did come to my room afterwards. She was extremely happy and kept glancing with delight at her engagement ring. She was only vaguely interested in my adventure.

  “This Jermyn man sounds interesting,” she said.

  “Oh, he was. I was fortunate that he came along when he did.” I told her about the origin of the feud and that did hold her attention for a little while.

  “Walked into the sea!” she said. “It’s rather romantic in a way…”

  “Romantic! It’s tragic.”

  “But not as bad as what happened to the man. Fancy living for the rest of his life like that. And his name was Dermot.”

  “It’s a family name evidently.”

  “It is all very exciting, anyway. I am glad you had a little adventure, too.”

  “This will be a visit we shall always remember,” I said, thinking of sitting in Smithy’s, drinking brandy.

  “For ever,” echoed Dorabella, gazing rapturously at her diamond ring.

  A few days later we left Cornwall.

  It had been decided, after a good deal of discussion, that the marriage should take place at Christmas.

  The First Wife

  WE RETURNED TO WEEKS of feverish preparations. My mother had a few qualms of uneasiness. She thought it was too soon and they should have waited a little longer.

  “Why?” demanded Dorabella. “Why should we wait? What’s the point? And being so far apart it isn’t easy to see each other.”

  My mother said: “The spring would have been a good time. Or, say, May…or June…”

  “Why? Why?” demanded Dorabella.

  My mother looked at her and smiled. “Well, as you both seem so sure…”

  “Of course we are sure.”

  My mother left it at that, but when we were alone she talked to me, as she often did. She had always discussed a problem with me rather than with Dorabella.

  She began: “I wish they had agreed to wait awhile.”

  “Dorabella never wants to wait for anything.”

  “I know. She is so impulsive. She doesn’t always see things clearly, she doesn’t look at all the possibilities.”

  “But you liked the family in Cornwall. You got on very well with Matilda Lewyth.”

  “Yes. And, of course, she is in charge. I can’t see any conflict between her and Dorabella over that.”

  “Dorabella certainly wouldn’t want to take on the management of the household.”

  “No, indeed not. But…”

  “They were charming to us,” I went on. “And they seemed to like Dorabella. There was no objection, as there sometimes is in such cases.”

  “I don’t know. It is just that it all seems too quick. I should have liked a little time to get…to get to know more…”

  “Well, we were there for a week. It wasn’t exactly a conventional household. But perhaps most households are not.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, on the surface they seem conventional sometimes and then you discover all sorts of things are going on under the veneer, if you know what I mean. There is the housekeeper who isn’t really a housekeeper; there’s her son who runs the place; and there is Dermot who doesn’t seem to take much interest in it. And the father just sits there. He reminds me of a puppet master holding the strings.”

  “Did he really seem like that to you?”

  “It was just a thought that occurred to me. And then there was the feud.”

  My mother laughed. “It was amusing that you met one of the enemy. I wonder what they thought of that? They didn’t give much sign…”

  “No. That’s what I mean. I had a feeling that something was going on underneath.”

  “That’s your imagination.”

  “Well, there is something about that part of the world. Superstitions and such like. All those things you mustn’t do, like meeting parsons on the way to the boats, and dropping gloves which have to be picked up by someone else.”

  “Your stranger turned out to be a blessing. If you ask me, it’s time they dropped their silly old quarrels about something which happened a hundred years ago. And Dorabella is going into all that. I wonder how she will fit in?”

  “Well, she is in love with Dermot.”

  My mother nodded, but she was f
rowning.

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “She always falls on her feet.”

  “She’s going to miss you.”

  “And I her.”

  “That’s the disadvantage of being twins. That closeness is wonderful at times, and then comes the inevitable separation.”

  “But she is not going to the other end of the world,” I cried. “And I shall go and stay there and she will come here often, I am sure.”

  “I suppose Dermot will be able to.”

  “Of course. He’s got Gordon Lewyth to look after the estate.”

  She frowned again. I was surprised, for I had thought she had been pleased by what she found in Cornwall; but, like myself, she had a faint stirring of disquiet that all might not be as it seemed.

  Christmas was close—a very special Christmas, dominated by the wedding which was to take place. The church had been beautifully decorated; Dermot was to arrive a few days before, and there would be rehearsals in the church. I was to be the Maid of Honor, and Uncle Charles’s small daughter was a bridesmaid, his little boy a page—our brother being too old for the role and overcome with horror at the thought of it.

  Dorabella’s dress was hanging up in the wardrobe; she looked at it a hundred times a day and wondered whether it was too long, too short, and whether the skirt needed an extra flounce of lace. There was another question: Should she wear the wreath of orange blossom round her head? My mother was anxious that she should because she had worn it at her wedding.

  “Is it a little old-fashioned?” Dorabella asked again and again.

  “What if it is?” I asked. “What does it matter?”

  “What does it matter! This is my wedding!”

  “It looks beautiful and Mummy wants you to. It will bring back memories of her wedding.”

  “But this is my wedding.”

  “Nobody is going to forget that. You wouldn’t let them.”

  “You’ll have to wear that orange blossom at your wedding.”

  “Mine? If there ever is one.”