Pool of St. Branok

by Philippa Carr

  It is all due to Mervyn. How lucky I am that we should be here together. Even during our meeting on the train I felt this and so did he, I believe. We could laugh together over our employers. The Bonners were not Cornish. They had settled here only about five years before, and they were regarded as foreigners in the community, although they did not seem aware of it.

  They think they are the lords of the manor. They don’t seem to understand that to be regarded as such they would have had to live here for at least a hundred years. The servants despise them; so do the villagers. The Bonners are not gentry and there are no snobs like their kind. They are accepted by the doctor and the solicitor, the neighboring squires and of course the vicar: “dear bumbling old Rev,” as Mervyn calls him. “He is the good shepherd and we are all his sheep, old and young, poor and nouveau riche.” We have a lot of fun laughing at them all. The children are nonentities. They have to remember that they are a lady and a gentleman now with a tutor for Master Paul and a governess for Miss Jennifer. “How many families run to that!” as my employer would say. “Most of them would have only one for the two, but brass is meant to be spent to get the best for the family.” That is Squire Bonner’s policy; and it suits me very well for it brings Mervyn and me close together.

  Mervyn has convinced the Bonners that the children should ride. It is part of their education. He is wonderful on a horse. I never rode much. I didn’t have the opportunity. He is determined to teach me. He takes me out with the children, of course, and as Master Paul and Miss Jennifer enjoy that, Bonner mère and père think it is a good thing. They are fast climbing up the social ladder and the saddle is yet another step.

  The reason I am writing today is because silly little Gwennie Talbot said to me: “I think the tutor be sweet on ’ee, Miss.”

  I blushed which made her titter and I pretended to be annoyed. I said: “Don’t be impertinent, Gwennie.” But I was pleased. People are noticing. So that seemed worthy of an entry in my diary.

  March 1st: I really am no diarist. It is only rarely that the urge comes over me to write. I suppose life has been going on in the same way all these weeks. But I have never been so happy and it is wonderful and all due to Mervyn. Each day I get up with a feeling of exhilaration. It is love, I suppose, and what is so exciting is that we are both under the same roof.

  We are sometimes invited to dine at the Bonner table—the reason being that they are short of guests and we are educated—far better than our employers, I am glad to say—and we are of use to make up the numbers. This amuses us. Mervyn always has a great deal to say about the people who visit us. He is observant of human nature and can be so amusing in a wicked sort of way. I tell him he is very cruel.

  A few evenings ago the vicar came and brought with him some connection of his family—not a nephew—farther away than that … a sort of second cousin, I imagine. The young man, it seemed, was a ne’er-do-well. He was rather good-looking … quite handsome in fact. His name is Justin Cartwright.

  When I read that I started. It was like a physical blow.

  Justin! Then something else struck me. What was the name of the man we had thrown into the pool? Mervyn Duncarry. Mervyn was not a very common name. I had been wondering why Justin had thought it necessary for me to read the diary of a strange young woman named Mina. This was now taking on some significance.

  I returned to the book.

  He is staying with the vicar. I think he may have been in some sort of trouble. I quite like him. So does Mervyn.

  March 6th: The greatest day of my life. Mervyn told me he loved me. We shall get married one day. But it is not easy for a tutor and a governess. But still … all that is to be considered later. We shall have to make plans. I am quite blissful and can think of nothing else.

  March 30th: Today we rode into Bodmin. We made the excuse that we had to get some books for the children’s lessons and they were left in the charge of servants so we had the day to ourselves.

  I have never been so happy before. I laughed when I remembered how apprehensive I had been about coming to this place and when I think of the happiness it has brought me, from the moment I stepped into that little branch line train, I cannot believe my good fortune.

  “We are going to buy a ring,” said Mervyn. “It’s a pledge.”

  “I want to buy a ring for you,” I replied. “There shall be one each.”

  “Have you got the money?”

  “Not much.”

  “Nor I.”

  We rode into Bodmin and left the horses at an inn where we had a glass of cider and a sandwich. Even the most ordinary food tastes like ambrosia when one is in the state I am in. We went to look in a jeweler’s shop. It had to be gold. The prices were beyond us. Then I had this idea. Why didn’t we buy one ring. He could wear it one week and I another. We hugged each other. So we went in and bought a gold signet ring which we could just manage with our combined money and we had our initials engraved inside: M.D. for him and W.B. for me.

  I felt sick. I saw it again. The pool from which I could never escape. The ring I had found. I had given it to Grace and she had flung it into the sea.

  “Wilhelmina,” he said, for he always calls me by my full name. He said it sounds important. Wilhelmina is grand. Mina is just ordinary. “Wilhelmina, with this ring I make you mine for as long as we both shall live.” I was so happy. I had never dreamed there could be such happiness. How we laughed over the ring. It was big for me. I could only wear it on my forefinger; and it went onto his little finger. We would later carry out our first intention. There should be two rings—one for him and one for me … and we should always wear them because of what they meant to us.

  April 5th: I suppose one cannot exist forever on the top pinnacle of happiness. I understand how Mervyn feels. Perhaps I shall give way … in time. But I can’t just … lightly forget my upbringing, I suppose.

  My mother and I were very close to each other, and although when she was so ill I sometimes lost patience with her, that did not mean that I did not love her very much. I always thought of her so wise. And she used to say, “A bride should go to her husband a virgin. I did, Mina; and I know it will be the same with you. It must be. I could never rest happy if it were not so. It is a sin, Mina.” I had said, Yes, it was and I promised her that I would be pure and virginal until my wedding day. It must have been in both our minds that living as I did it was hardly likely that there would be a wedding day, so it had been easy for me to give that promise. But now Mervyn was urging me. He seemed to have changed. He was fierce … even angry. He wanted to come to my room at night. My room was next to Jennifer’s. I wondered what would have happened if she had awakened in the night and come to me for something, which she might well do. I imagined being dismissed with ignominy … both of us. I was sure the Bonners would take a very virtuous stance in such matters.

  So I said: “No. We must wait until we are married.”

  “When will that be,” demanded Mervyn, “in the position we are in?”

  “I thought we should wait. Make plans. Even tell the Bonners. They might allow us to continue working after we were married.”

  He said he did not think they would. Nor did we want to be here all our lives.

  “What else could we do?” I asked.

  “We could get away from here … to a little place of our own.”

  “And do what? We couldn’t live on my income.”

  “We’ll do something. In the meantime … I want you, Wilhelmina. This is torment for me … being under the same roof.”

  I should have been delighted that he cared so much, but there was the ghost of my mother and my puritanical upbringing holding me back. I wanted to give way, yet I was afraid and I felt I should never be quite happy if I did. Mervyn was so angry. I had never seen him so angry before. He was a different man.

  April 15th: There is a rift between us. Sometimes Mervyn will take me so tightly in his arms that I could cry out with the pain of it. I
am a little afraid. He looks so fierce and angry and different. I almost give way … and then I see my mother and I am afraid. She had talked to me about deserted women and unwanted babies. She said, “You see, they believe in these protestations of eternal love. And then they find they have been tricked.”

  I can’t believe Mervyn would trick me. We truly love each other. I was wearing the ring all last week. He has it now. He was quite violent this evening. I was so upset. It was after dinner. He was with me when I was going up the stairs. He began urging me … even more insistently than usual.

  I said: “Don’t talk so loudly. Someone will hear.” He threw me from him. I almost fell. Then I ran up to my room. I think if he had come after me I might have given way. But he did not come. Later I heard him leave the house. I am realizing that I am a little frightened of him. I did not know that he could be so vehement. He is like a different man.

  I could not sleep. So I am writing in my diary.

  April 16th: This is terrible. Everything I have dreamed of is gone like a soap bubble which the children blow with their clay pipes. I did not hear him come in last night though I sat for a long time at my window. I cannot believe I dozed. I was so upset. I kept going over that scene. I kept saying to myself, It is because he loves me so much. This morning he was very subdued. His eyes were shadowed.

  He said to me: “I’m sorry, Wilhelmina.”

  I said: “It’s all right. I understand. Let’s get married … no matter what we have to arrange afterwards.”

  “Let’s do that,” he said. “Oh, God, Wilhelmina, if only we can get away from this to a life of our own. We’ll do anything. We’ll make plans right away.”

  I was happy again. He understood. Everything would be perfect.

  April 16th, afternoon: Two of the village children playing in the woods found the body. It was a girl aged about ten years—one of the children from the village. She had been sexually assaulted and strangled. I was very shocked of course. I didn’t realize then that it was anything to do with us, until they came to the house asking questions.

  Mervyn knocked on the door of my room. He said, “I want to get away. I can’t stay.”

  I was astonished. “Why not?” I said.

  “It is necessary,” he said. “I can’t stay.” His eyes were wild. He had that mad look again.

  Gwennie was at the door. She said: “They want you to go down to the drawing room, Mr. Duncarry.”

  April 16th, evening: I cannot believe it. They have taken him away. Someone saw him coming from the woods last night and they have found a bloodstained jacket in his room. So … they have taken him away.

  April 20th: I have not been able to write since. There is a black pall over everything. They are holding him on suspicion. Mrs. Bonner goes round bleating about the dangers. They had him in their house! We might all have been murdered in our beds … and when she thought of her daughter she was so overcome with fear and relief that they had him under lock and key.

  I was bitter. I have tried not to believe it. But I do. I know it is true. I have dreamed a wild, impossible dream. Life could never be as good to me as I had for a brief while thought it might. When had I ever had good luck? I was bitter and angry with life. I had lost my lover. Suppose I had given way … he would never have come upon that child … he would never have felt that overwhelming lust which made him forget everything but that he must satisfy it. But there would have been other times perhaps … How could Mervyn do that? But what did we know of people … ordinary people who can suddenly turn into monsters of depravity driven by some incomprehensible sexual urge?

  April 30th: I love him and I have discovered that whatever he has done, I love him. I will take care of him in future … if he comes out of this. But how can he come out of it? They will find him guilty. They will hang him. I shall have lost my lover forever. I believe I can help him. I believe I can save him. I could reason with him. I could make him explain to me. What I want more than anything is a chance to do this, to bring him back to a normal life, to do the things we planned to do before this happened. How could such a man as Mervyn … so amusing, so charming … behave like that? How could he suddenly change? It must have been a brain storm … a momentary attack … like an illness. And I had refused him … and because of that … Oh, I could cure him, I know I could.

  May 1st: The papers are full of it. They all write of him with hatred. I cannot stay here. I told Mrs. Bonner that I was too shocked. I had regarded him as a friend. For once she understood. I said I had to get away. I gave her my notice. I would leave in a month. She would find someone else. It had been a terrible blow. She would never have another tutor. She would have a governess for both of the children. If I cared to take that on … I said, “No, I must get away.” I do not know what I shall do.

  May 13th: He is going on trial for murder. It is a foregone conclusion. They have already proved his guilt. The papers have raked over his past and found that he was involved in another inquiry concerning the death of a girl in similar circumstances. Nothing was proved against him and he had gone free. If he had not, suggested the paper, would little Carrie Carson be alive today? He will die and that is more than I can bear. They are going to allow me to see him.

  May 20th: I have been to Bodmin Jail. It was not easy to talk to him. There were people watching all the time. He talked in a low voice.

  He said: “Help me. I’ll get away before the trial … We’ll be together ever after … We’ll get out of the country. Bring me something … a knife … bring me a knife … I’ll fight my way out. We’ll go away. Think about it. I love you, Wilhelmina, I’ll always love you.”

  I said: “I’ll always love you, Mervyn.”

  May 29th: Tomorrow I am leaving. I have made my plans. I shall get down to the coast. I think it would be a good idea to get a post not far from the prison. I shall be able to see him and tell him where. I am quite excited. I am making all sorts of plans. I am glad I kept this dairy. I shall always know how I felt … at the beginning … during those wonderful, wonderful days. It is something I shall want to live through again and again. I have seen clearly that I love Mervyn no matter what he has done. I suppose that is true love. I cannot lose him. I shall do everything I can to help him escape from prison and when he does he will know how much I love him. It will show him more than anything else ever could. I will cure him. I will. I know I can. I know he is not evil … deep down. People in the past were possessed by devils. That is what has happened to Mervyn. I am going to look after him. I am going to make him the man he was intended to be and we shall live happily ever after somewhere right away … perhaps out of England and in time we shall forget all this.

  There the diary ended.

  I was very thoughtful. I slept little that night. I could scarcely wait for Justin to call next morning.

  He came as he had said he would.

  “Why did you give me this to read?” I asked.

  “Because I thought you might be in danger.”

  “This diary …”

  “I must explain. I was passing the house when she was leaving. I went to say goodbye to her. She shook hands with me and said she wanted to get away after all that had happened. She looked ill and shocked. I had guessed there was something between her and that man. She was getting her bags into the dogcart. No one was helping her so I gave a hand. When she had gone, I found the diary lying at my feet. It had evidently fallen from one of her bags. I picked it up and looked at it. I saw what it contained and decided I would keep it. You’ve guessed who she is?”

  I nodded. “Grace,” I said.

  “Exactly.”

  “I remember how you spoke to us in the park when you called her Wilhelmina Burns.”

  He looked at me very seriously for a few seconds. “It has cost me a great deal to tell you this,” he said. “I am afraid I don’t come out in a very good light. I wouldn’t like Morwenna to know. I do trust you. You never told about my cheating at cards.”
/>   “What good would that do? It would only hurt her.”

  “Thanks, Angelet. I’ll make a clean confession. I was living by the cards.”

  “Cheating at them, you mean?”

  “Winning eighty per cent of the time. One lost a little to win confidence.”

  “I see. It was a profession with you.”

  “I was the ne’er-do-well relation of the vicar of Crompton. I used to go round visiting houses like that once, but there comes an end to that sort of thing. So I came to London. Then I saw Wilhelmina in the park. I recognized her at once. Of course, she was living under a different name. Miss Grace Gilmore. I think her name had been mentioned once or twice in the papers when there were a few details about the house where Mervyn Duncarry was working. She obviously did not want to be connected with that. Well, I met her in the park. I told her I had the diary. She was very upset. I asked her about you and Morwenna. The truth is I blackmailed her. I knew her connection with the murderer. He’d got away … and she had helped him. She was very frightened and I was getting tired of the life I was living. One slip and you are finished forever … blackballed from all the London clubs. It hadn’t happened but it was always a possibility. I wanted a more secure living. Marriage with an heiress seemed a good plan. She told me about Morwenna’s parents and her unsuccessful season. I liked Morwenna from the start, I really did. It was easy to see she was innocent … gullible.

  “Oh, how could you!” I cried.

  “I’ll make no excuses. I was like that. But let me tell you this, Angelet, I’m changing. I want to be different … respectable … I want to be what Morwenna thinks I am. And then there is the boy.”

  “So that little incident … the boy with the purse … that was arranged?”