by Sara Seale
So Belle had been visiting Polrame all this time and kept silent, busy as always with her own schemes.
“But you wouldn’t marry Adwen’s father, Belle?” Tina said distastefully.
Belle shrugged.
“Wife or housekeeper, where’s the difference? It’s a convenient roof and I’ve got out of the way of fending for myself in cheap hotels,” she said.
“Craig’s bound to object.”
“Do you think so? Well, it won’t make any difference. With no financial help forthcoming he’s scarcely in a position to dictate, do you think?”
But he would not let her do it, Tina thought, resolving to speak to him tonight. Whatever his opinion of Belle he would not let her join his Polrame cousins, taking the place, perhaps, of the poor slut who had been married out of spite.
But Craig took a different view.
“Why should the idea distress you?” he asked a little ironically. “You were willing at one time to live at Polrame yourself.”
“That was different,” Tina replied, “I—I didn’t know so much about them, then. Besides, you wouldn’t have let me do it.”
“That, too, was different,” he retorted. “Belle is well suited to Polrame. She’s lazy and shiftless as they are and you needn’t fear she’ll sink into the background as poor Aunt Emmy did. My uncle will have met his match in Belle.”
The distress still showed in her eyes.
“If she’d had money—I don’t think she would do it,” she said hesitantly.
He gave her a long shrewd look.
“You mean if I’d come up to scratch as she always hoped I would,” he replied. “Tina, you gullible child, don’t you realize that Belle will always take the line of least resistance? Whatever I did towards helping financially would make no difference to her ultimate way of life. Belle’s a parasite, as I’ve told you before. She will live on others as long as it’s possible and she’s had the shrewdness to see that at Polrame with two shiftless men and a house going to ruin for want of a little management there will always be a niche for her. It’s as good a way out as any.” There was no real argument, Tina knew. Every word that Craig had said was true and she saw now that for the last year or more Belle had been drifting steadily towards an unresisting deterioration of will.
“My father would have hated what she has become,” Tina said and his eyes were suddenly gentle.
“Your father probably knew what she was after he had married her,” he said firmly. “Don’t hark back to old sentimentalities, my dear. We can make the wrong marriage but we don’t perish of it. There are other things in life for a man.”
Yes, thought Tina, for a man, but for a woman the wrong marriage could bring a state near to perishing. She looked at Craig and did not know that in her eyes were all the doubts and fears of girlhood. Was she wrong, she thought with rising panic, to risk so much, was she too young and inexperienced to handle the dark Pentreath in the way a woman must handle the man she loves?
“It’s your own marriage, not the possibility of Belle’s, that is frightening you, isn’t it?” Craig said with unexpected suddenness.
She jumped. Once again he saw too much.
“Can it work when one is unsure and—and in the dark?” she asked.
“I think so, as long as one doesn’t expect too much. Are you still in the dark, Tina? You shouldn’t puzzle so much over things you don’t understand. They straighten out in time.”
“Do they?” It did not sound encouraging, neither did his warning, if it was such, not to expect too much. “Craig, I—”
“You’re going to tell me you want more time,” he said. “You’d like to postpone the wedding, or perhaps not have one at all.”
Had she really been going to say that?
She looked at him with that wide, troubled gaze and the color rose under her skin.
“What would you have said if I had asked you that?” she questioned gently.
He was silent for a moment, watching her, then he answered with careful deliberation:
“I don’t personally feel that postponing a thing ever solves much. If you’ve made up your mind to something it’s better to go through with it and take the consequences has been my own experience. Don’t you want to marry me, Tina?”
Faced with such a direct question she felt her defences trembling. She could not answer honestly without betraying herself.
“Would it make any difference if I said I didn’t?” she asked, trying to smile. “What the Pentreaths have they hold, you’ve often told me, and our wedding is only a week away.”
“You have a rather inhuman idea of the Pentreaths, haven’t you?” he said and his smile was a little twisted. “We aren’t all pirates, you know, and you haven’t answered my question.”
Her eyes fell before his and she twisted his ring nervously round her finger.
“Yes, Craig, I want to marry you,” she replied. “And you’re probably right. Postponement doesn’t solve anything.”
III
In the week that was left, Tina spent much time by the little temple. Shoots were coming up in her garden, and under the windy March sky the magnolia put out buds to the coming spring. Zachary had dug another bed and she sowed it with the same old-fashioned flowers, mignonette, veronica and larkspur. In the rough grass, Jessie Pentreath’s wild daffodils were almost in flower and the birds were nesting in the spinney behind the temple.
Tina would sit on the moss-grown steps and think of Jessie, wondering how she had felt coming as a bride to Tremawvan. Had she been a young girl like herself, eager and excited by her new life, or had she known when she married Zion, not to expect too much, and in spite of her two babies, built the temple to have something of her own? But it did not stop there, Tina thought. Craig had loved her but Keverne had been the favorite, and Brownie, giving her youth in service, had also walked alone. Had Jessie, she wondered, been a little selfish in her grief? Was there such small consolation in loving that the hours of self-dependence were empty and unfulfilled?
Now it was only a matter of days to the first day of spring. Tina’s dress was finished except for the last touches, the presents were already arranged in the parlor to be on view at the reception, and Belle had her trunks brought down from the attics.
It was an end to familiarity. Even the statues with their defaced limbs had been removed and grass sown in their place, and with Belle’s departure the last link with childhood would have gone.
“You’re really going before my wedding?” Tina asked, watching her stepmother folding garments with careless ineptitude and then tossing them on the bed because she could not make up her mind what to pack first.
“Yes, on Thursday,” Belle answered indifferently. “Adwen’s coming to fetch me. The Polrame cousins have naturally not been asked to the wedding so you won’t see me, either.”
“I wish you would have stayed,” Tina said. She did not really wish it in her heart, for their relationship meant nothing, but Belle was familiar. She had shared her life in the cheap hotels, and apart from her father her stepmother was the only figure who had counted in adolescence.
“Good heavens! Are you feeling cheated of that little talk the night before your marriage?” Belle laughed. “There’s no advice I could have given you that would help, darling. Craig will have to do his own instructing. Bother these tiresome clothes! They’ll come out looking like old rags.”
‘You’d better let me pack,” said Tina, glad of something to do. She had always packed for Belle in their constant moves from one hotel to another, and she liked to think that in performing this last office she was severing the final link of her dependence.
By Thursday Belle’s trunks were locked and waiting in the hall for Zachary to take them to Polrame in the Morris, and she herself wandered from room to room smoking her Turkish cigarettes, impatient now for the hour of departure. Adwen was not coming until the evening, and it was possible that Belle had arranged matters in this way, hoping that at the last Craig would
be moved to generosity, but when he came home at tea-time he said he must return to the cannery before dinner and would not be back till late. There was trouble with the machinery and the men were working overtime to put it right.
He tossed his keys over to Tina before he left.
“It’s the day Zachary brings the money from the bank to pay the men tomorrow, but he won’t be back till dinner time,” he said. “Open the safe for him, will you?” He turned to his cousin last. “Well, Belle, I suppose this is goodbye. I’m sorry I won’t be home to speed your departure but this machinery must be got right before Saturday or the wedding will have to be postponed. Goodbye, and thank you for keeping house for me.”
She looked sulky but she took the hand he offered her. He had got out of that last little moment of farewell very nicely, she thought angrily. She had not really expected a tardy cheque, she supposed, but she would have welcomed the opportunity to fling a few well-barbed taunts.
“Goodbye, Cousin Craig,” she said, smiling mirthlessly. “I suppose I should return the compliment and thank you for your hospitality only it was so very grudging, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t bear grudges, that’s your privilege. Good luck, Belle,” he said and was gone.
“Well, Belle Linden, I’ll wish you luck too, but I hope it’s the last time you’ll trouble us,” Brownie observed. ‘We’ll have supper early since Craig won’t be home. What time are you being fetched?”
“About nine. Don’t trouble with your good wishes, Brownie. I’m sure you don’t mean any of them,” Belle said and lit a cigarette.
Tina stayed with her stepmother until dinner time, conscious that one of them owed her consideration, but Belle was not grateful. She was annoyed that her plans for waylaying Craig had gone awry and thoroughly bored at the prospect of being obliged to remain at Tremawvan until nine o’clock. Had she known this would happen she would have gone with Zachary and her luggage in the morning.
Supper was no more than its name implied, tonight.
“No sense in wasting good meat on three women,” Brownie remarked, observing Belle’s look of disgust, but Tina enjoyed her favorite starry-gazy pie with the pilchards’ heads sticking through the crust, and the fruit flan and scalded cream which followed, and when the meal was over she turned to Belle with one last effort to be friendly.
“Belle, you’ve never seen my wedding dress and Brownie has made it so beautifully,” she said. “Shall I go and put it on for you now as you won’t be at the wedding?”
Belle sighed impatiently. What did she care about the child’s dowdy home-made finery? But it was only a little after eight o’clock. Better, perhaps, to fill in time that way than have to sit listening to chatter and Brownie’s outworn opinions.
“If you like,” she said indifferently, and Tina jumped up quickly.
“Brownie, you’ll help me, won’t you? You know exactly how it should look. Oh, bother, I’d forgotten Zachary. He’ll be coming in about now and I’ve got to open the safe for him.”
Belle’s lashes flickered for a moment.
“I’ll do it,” she said. “Give me the keys.”
“Well, hadn’t I better—” Tina began doubtfully, but Belle laughed and looked amused.
“Darling, I know how to open Craig’s safe just as well as you do. It’s a very simple lock. If you wait to see Zachary there won’t be time to change your frock before I go.”
“All right,” Tina threw the keys across the table and started to follow Brownie out of the room. “I’ll come down when I’m ready, shall I, and make an entrance?”
“No, don’t do that,” said Belle quickly. “You might dirty the hem on the stairs. I’ll come to your room in a little while so wait for me.”
Zachary came in with the money five minutes after Tina had run upstairs and he followed Belle into Craig’s study, carrying the locked brief case which every Thursday held the weekly pay roll.
“Tidy lot it is,” he said, wishing to impress the master’s cousin who was so free and scornful with her tongue. “Runs into several hundred pounds. See the door’s proper locked, won’t you, ma’am? Mr. Craig always does this job himself.”
“Don’t worry, Zachary, I’ll see that everything’s all right,” she answered.
He held out a roughened hand.
“Well, ‘tes goodbye now, I reckon,” he said uncertainly. “Don’t suppose we’ll be seeing much of you over to Polrame.”
“No, I don’t suppose you will. Good-bye Zachary.”
She did not offer to tip him, neither did she shake hands, and she watched him moving awkwardly through the doorway, while she rolled the ring of keys from one hand to another.
Belle did not know when the impulse had come to her, whether it was when Tina had tossed her the keys, or even before that, or perhaps when she watched Zachary put the brief case in the safe and saw the jewel cases piled carelessly in a corner. She pushed the door to, and opened the french window behind the desk. Things could be hidden easily in the darkness outside to be picked up later. The strong March wind blew in with a lusty gust which set the curtains billowing and the lamp smoking, and she went quickly to the safe and unlocked it again.
She did not consider she was stealing. Keverne’s share of the jewels was hers by right, and the men’s pay roll, a matter of hundreds going out each week, would scarcely be missed by a man able to afford to do business on this scale. Belle’s eyes sparkled as she snatched greedily at the worn leather cases and tucked the brief case under her arm. This was in the Pentreath tradition; loot, but this time for Polrame.
A pulse throbbed in her throat as she heard a step in the corridor and even as she swung round, the jewel cases clasped to her breast, Craig pushed open the door and stood there watching her.
“Well,” he said after a long pause, “so you’re a thief as well as a trouble-maker, Belle. Unfortunate for you that I got back earlier than I expected.”
She stood by the open safe, staring at him, white-lipped. Anger drove out fear for the moment.
“So you’ve caught me,” she said. “Well, I don’t care! I’m not stealing, I’m looting because you’re too mean to part with a thing, even if you don’t want it. I’ve a right to Keverne’s share of the jewels. Tina will never use them.”
“And the men’s pay? Have you a right to that, too?”
“That’s the little bonus any decent-minded relative would have given me after practically turning me out.”
“It might interest you to know that I have here in my wallet a cheque which I returned especially to give you,” he said quietly. “But this, of course, makes things different.”
Her courage began to fail her.
“I don’t believe you,” she said, and for answer he took a slip of paper from his wallet and held it under her eyes.
“You see? Made out to Belle Linden for three thousand pounds, more than you’ve ever deserved in your life.” With slow deliberation he tore the cheque across and threw it on the fire.
In all Belle’s life she had never been so forcibly faced with her own foolhardiness. Judging Craig by herself alone, she had at the last moment thrown away all she had angled for.
“It was an impulse,” she muttered. “Don’t judge me, Craig ... it was Tina’s fault ... she shouldn’t have put temptation in my way ... Craig, I’ll put everything back, but write that cheque again...”
Contempt lay in his eyes for a moment then the anger which so surprisingly had not swept him until now suddenly darkened his face.
“You’re a tramp, Belle,” he said. “No better than the tinners and the bands of ruffians who would steal or kill to repay a grudge. You who came here looking down on us have no particle of decency. Keverne wasn’t good enough for you but you claim what was his. If you weren’t Tina’s stepmother I’d prosecute for this and take extreme pleasure in doing so. Put that stuff back in the safe.”
She obeyed silently, bereft at last of her self-confidence and the mocking superiority which had been her subs
titute for pride. When she had finished he took one case out of the safe and flung it on the desk.
“You can keep the rubies,” he said with distaste. “After this I don’t want them in the place. Now get out the way you’d prepared for yourself. Your car’s already waiting for you so there’s nothing to return for. Get out fast before I change my mind.”
She snatched up the jewel case and in her anxiety to get away as quickly as she could, moved with clumsy haste and knocked over the oil lamp with her elbow. For a moment she stood, terrified, watching the oil spreading over the carpet, bursting almost simultaneously into a sheet of flame, then she ran across the room and out by the open window. As she slammed the casement shut behind her the draught sent the curtain eddying to meet the flame and it caught instantly.
IV
Tina had waited a long time for Belle. She stood, turning and twisting in front of the old-fashioned pier glass in her room watched by Brownie’s affectionate eyes.
“My, but you’re a conceited piece!” she said. “But I will say I’ve made a proper job of you. Craig should be pleased.”
Craig ... she was suddenly still before the mirror, trying to see herself with his eyes. Would he, she wondered, find charm in the slender waist fitting so exquisitely, in the layer upon layer of snowy tulle which made the billowing skirt look like a gigantic flower? The necklace of seed pearls lay against her young throat like a lace and her eyes were brilliant with inquiry as she gazed.
“That’s enough,” said Brownie dryly. “You’ll crack the mirror if you stare so hard.”
Tina turned from her reflection.
“Belle’s a long time,” she said. “I think I’ll go down and find her.”
“Like as not she’s gone without troubling,” said Brownie. “I heard a car pull up a little while back.”