Midsummer's Eve

by Philippa Carr

  It was even worse than I imagined. I did Jacco’s first. I tried not to let my emotions get the better of me, but each garment seemed to have some special significance. At one moment I just sat on the floor and gave way to my weeping.

  It was no use. It had to be done. The clothes at least would give pleasure to some of the young men on the property. Or would they? Some of them might well despise the elegant cut and the good material. But what did that matter? They were only clothes.

  I went to my parents’ room and worked steadily.

  In the pocket of one of my father’s coats I found a little notebook. I remembered that I had given it to him. I sat down on the bed and looked at it. It was in red leather with his initials on it in gilt lettering. I thought about the Christmas Day two years ago. My gift to him …

  I opened it. He had used it for addresses. There were several in London … often people I knew. And recently he had written in some in Australia. They were not in alphabetical order. In fact there was no index in the book; it was just a plain notebook with a little gold pencil fixed at the side.

  I turned it over idly and came to the last address he had written.

  “Stillman’s Creek on the borders of Queensland and New South Wales? Some eighty miles from Brisbane.”

  That had been written in rather hastily and my mind went back to a scrap of conversation I had heard between my father and Gregory when my father had asked in what direction Stillman’s Creek lay.

  I wondered why he had been interested in that place.

  I shut the book and put it into that pile which contained my mother’s jewelry and those things I wanted to keep.

  With an intense relief, I shut the door of that room and went out.

  The heartrending task had been completed.

  The buggy was at the door. The baggage had been put into it. It only remained for us to say goodbye and we would be off.

  They had assembled to see us go. Most of the people who worked on the property had come out. Standing a little apart from them was Gregory. Maud and Rosa were beside him.

  I put my arms round Maud and kissed her.

  I sensed her mingling emotions; sadness at parting and relief that I was going. She had believed until the last that Gregory would find some way of forcing me to marry him. Now the field was free for Rosa. I conveyed to her somehow that I understood.

  “Good luck, Maud,” I whispered. “I hope all goes well for you and Rosa.”

  Gregory was holding my hands and looking into my eyes with that familiar quizzical look. It was over. I had escaped him. He knew this and he accepted it as he accepted life generally, nonchalantly. He had what he had been waiting for so long … the property. He had lost the greater prize but he would take the cash in hand and waive the rest. That was his nature.

  I could not help admiring him.

  We set off. I gave one look back. Gregory was smiling that smile I knew so well; and Maud was standing there, her hand on Rosa’s shoulder.

  A Visitor from Australia

  AND SO WE WERE sailing for England.

  We should be well into the new year before we reached home, for there had been some delay in getting a passage for us all and we had had to stay in Sydney for several weeks.

  Helena had written to Matthew and had left the letter at the Grand Hotel to be collected when he came there. In this she told him she was going home with me.

  I knew that Rolf was puzzled by the marriage which in a short time had produced not only a baby but a husband who had gone off leaving his newly wedded wife who was not sure of his whereabouts.

  But finally we were on board.

  I realized that everything I did was going to bring back memories; and as soon as I stepped on to the ship I remembered the journey out and the fun Jacco and I had had, and how excited we had been at the prospect of seeing new places; but most of all I remembered that deep abiding security I had had—and which I had not realized until I had lost it—in the heart of a devoted and loving family.

  But Rolf had come right to the other side of the world, leaving his beloved estates, to come to me because as much as anyone else I knew, he would understand my grief.

  I must be thankful that I had such a friend.

  At first I could not feel any interest in the ship. I did not care whether the sun shone or we were in stormy waters. I was hardly aware of the rough seas. Although I was glad to be on my way I dreaded getting home. I tried to imagine Cador without them.

  Jonnie comforted me a great deal. I was with him as often as possible. I was sure he knew me; he was beginning to take an interest in the world about him now, and he grew more adorable every day. Helena understood and when she thought I was particularly depressed she would talk of him or bring him to me and put him into my arms.

  Rolf noticed and remarked on my fondness for the child.

  “He’s always been with me,” I said, “really as much as he is with Helena.”

  I realized my feelings towards Rolf were getting back to what they had been before that terrible Midsummer’s Eve.

  When I looked at him dispassionately it was brought home to me what a very attractive man he was. He was greatly respected throughout the ship. He was gracious; he had an easy manner; he did not thrust himself forward as Gregory Donnelly had done. In fact my acquaintance with Gregory Donnelly had made me realize how very much I admired Rolf.

  I was taken back to those days of my childhood when I had set him up as a god, when my heart leaped with pleasure when I heard his arrival. How I used to fly down to meet him and he would lift me in his arms and give me a piggyback-ride when I wanted to show him something in the nursery.

  Then had come that Midsummer’s Eve when I believed that my god had feet of clay.

  What had shocked me almost as much as the cruelty inflicted on Mother Ginny was Rolf’s part in it. That had destroyed my feelings for him. I had continued to love him in a way, but my affection had been tainted by what I had seen and the awful realization that I did not really know him at all.

  One grows very close to people during a sea voyage; one sees them every day at meals as well as about the ship. A few days of such intimacy is equivalent to months of an ordinary relationship.

  Rolf was so tender, so tactful. Now and then he talked of home and when he saw that I was getting too emotional, he would steer the conversation away from that evocative subject.

  It was such a comfort to know that he understood, even more than Helena did, what I was feeling.

  And somehow I knew he was waiting. The fact that he had come out to Australia to bring me home, showed that he cared for me in a very special way. He had always been a good friend but this was more than friendship.

  It was during these peaceful balmy nights when we were crossing the Indian Ocean that we sat on the deck together looking out on the darkening water, listening to the gentle swishing of the sea against the side of the ship as we talked.

  He said: “I often think of you when you were a little girl. You used to rush to me when I arrived at Cador with my father. If you had something new, you always wanted to show it to me.”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “You were very fond of me then.”

  “I thought you were the most wonderful person in the world. At least, you shared that honour with …”

  The tell-tale break in my voice made him reach for my hand.

  “I know,” he said. “It was a gratifying feeling to be so regarded. When things weren’t going well, I used to say to myself, ‘I’ll go to Cador and get a boost to my ego from Annora.’ And then suddenly … it changed.”

  I was silent.

  “Yes,” he went on, “suddenly it changed. I thought sadly, She’s growing up. She’s not a child any more. She’s more discerning. And I didn’t like it at all. I did not come so much to Cador because I could not bear the change in your attitude towards me. I told myself that children were fickle and I was hurt.”

  “It was after that Midsummer’s Eve,�
�� I said.

  “That Midsummer’s Eve,” he repeated. “Ah, I remember. There was an awful tragedy. The house in the woods was burned down.”

  “Yes. With Mother Ginny in it. They were very cruel to her on that night. I was there … with Jacco. It was intolerable.”

  “You saw it! It must have been horrific.”

  “They set fire to her house. They dragged her to the river. I can never forget it. I didn’t believe in anything after that. People I had known … doing that. I felt I could not trust people any more.”

  “I understand,” he said slowly. “My father was greatly shocked. He told me about it when I came back.”

  “When you came back?”

  “I had gone away on the afternoon of Midsummer’s Eve. I went to a friend who was in my college. He lived near Bodmin. You remember how interested I used to be … well, I still am … in old customs and superstitions. He had found some old papers in his family’s attics and he wanted me to look at them. I was going to miss the bonfires but old papers interested me more, so I went off. I was rather glad that I wasn’t there in view of what happened.”

  “You weren’t there?” I stammered.

  I could see it all so clearly; the figure in the grey robe leaping over the bonfire; leading the mob on to harass the poor old woman.

  Floods of relief were sweeping over me. It must have been someone else in the robe. Could the truth be that which I had always tried to convince myself was so?

  Why had I not spoken before? How foolish I had been. I could have learned this long ago.

  “Oh, Rolf,” I cried. “I’m so glad you were not there. It was horrible …”

  “You shouldn’t have been there.”

  “My parents were away. Jacco and I went on our own.”

  “My dear child …”

  “We thought it was adventurous … at first. But I am glad we were there. I think we saved Digory.”

  I told him then how we had gone out, witnessed the horror of that night and hidden Digory so that his fate should not be that of his grandmother.

  “I learned something that night,” I said. “I learned about people. I suppose those are the sorts of things one ought to know.”

  He put his arm round me and kissed me. Then he said: “I’ve always loved you, Annora.”

  I did not answer. I felt almost happy—as I had never thought to feel again, sitting there with his arm about me and the wonderful knowledge that he had not been there on that terrible night. It had been someone else in that robe. Why had I not thought that there could be more than one robe? I had come to a hasty conclusion which had embittered me for years and had changed my life in a way. Who would have believed that such a thing could have happened in one night? But I had already been made aware of how suddenly tragedy could strike and how quickly life could change.

  He kissed me gently.

  “I have been thinking a great deal about us, Annora. What is going to happen when you return?”

  “I am dreading it. I can’t imagine the place without them.”

  “It is something you will have to face. It will be hard at first.”

  “I know.”

  “I shall be near,” he said. “I’ll be there to help you. You’ll need help in many ways. You have inherited Cador. Do you realize what that means?”

  “I haven’t thought much about that side of it.”

  “I guessed not. In a way it will help you. You’ll have so much to think about. You’ve got to forget the past. You have to realize that everything is going to be different now. Your father cared a great deal about the estate once he came into it, and Jacco was being trained for when his time came. Now you have to take that responsibility.”

  “I was always interested in it … at one time more than Jacco was. I used to go round with my father …”

  “It will not be easy for you, but I am there … close. I want to be even nearer. Annora, we could be married.”

  I was silent. I was still thinking: he was not there. All these years I have misjudged him. I ought to have known he couldn’t have been there. I wanted to make up to him for all the years of mistrust.

  I thought of all the loneliness of returning to Cador without my family, and I saw at once that I had to stop brooding. I had to go on. And here was the way. I had lost my dear ones but I should not be alone.

  I turned to Rolf and said: “Yes, we could be married.”

  Now that I had made the decision I felt better. I had a new life opening before me. Everything would be different but I should have someone to love me.

  I used to say to myself, It was what they wanted. They had always been fond of Rolf. Rolf would know what should be done about the estate. His own lands bordered on Cador. We should join up. We should be as one.

  Helena was delighted. She liked Rolf very much. I think she was perhaps a little envious comparing her own marriage with my prospects. But her great comfort was Jonnie. At least he had come out of all that had happened to her.

  Slowly we made our way towards England.

  We were docking at Southampton and were rather glad of this. It meant that we should go straight to Cador without calling in at London which would have been the natural thing to do if we had landed at Tilbury.

  Helena was not really prepared to see her parents yet and I felt I did not want to talk of my loss to them. I knew how upset Amaryllis would be at my mother’s death, for the ties between them which had been made in the days of their childhood had never been broken.

  How moving it was to see Cador again and as I gazed at those ancient towers I had to suppress my unhappiness. I had to keep reminding myself that I had to make a new start. This great house and everything that went with it was mine. I had a great responsibility towards a good many people therefore. I had to stop mourning. There would be so much to learn but, I reminded myself, I should have Rolf to help me.

  There was a warm but subdued welcome from the household. Mrs. Penlock burst into tears. I gripped her hands and told her we had to go on. Several of the others wiped their eyes and Isaacs said in a shaken voice: “We are glad you are home, Miss Cadorson.”

  I thanked them as best I could and I know my voice shook. I had schooled myself for this for I knew how emotional it would be.

  I said: “I intend that everything shall go on as before.” They cast down their heads and I went on: “I will talk to you all in the morning.”

  Jonnie was a great help. Faces brightened as they looked at him. He studied them all with curiosity and through her tears Mrs. Penlock exclaimed: “The little duck!”

  So there I was back home, longing to be alone in my room and yet dreading it, for during that first night, memories would be as vividly with me as ever.

  I have to put it all behind me, I kept telling myself. I have Rolf now. He will help me. Perhaps in time I can be happy again.

  I rode round the estate the very next morning and called at several of the farms. Mrs. Cherry had nine children now; she was larger than ever and still laughed at every sentence she uttered. Even when she referred to my loss, her laughter was not far off. It was a habit. And the Tregorrans were as mournful as I remembered.

  “These be bad days, Miss Cadorson,” said Jim Tregorran. Miss Cadorson, I noticed, not Miss Annora.

  They seemed bewildered. I supposed it was difficult for them to think of me as their landlord.

  The first days were difficult. People were embarrassed. They wanted to tell me, I knew, that they mourned the loss of my parents and brother deeply, but they did not know how to do so.

  Perhaps if I could have spoken of the tragedy it would have been easier. But I could not bring myself to do it at first. Perhaps later, I thought.

  I went down to town. I rode along the quay. They touched their caps to me. Jack Gort was weighing fish from his tubs; he said, “Good day to ’ee, Miss Cadorson. Glad to see ’ee back.” He did not mention my family, but I saw the sympathy in his eyes. Old Harry Gentle lifted his bleary eyes from the nets he was
mending and said: “Welcome home, Miss Cadorson. Nice to see ’ee back.”

  Jim Poldean who was cleaning his boat sprang on to the quay to take my hand and shake it. He did not say anything but his expression told me how sorry he was.

  They all felt they wanted to convey their sympathy; they had respected my father; they had been fond of my mother and Jacco. But they did not know how to express their feelings in words and I was afraid to talk in case I broke down. Being home seemed to bring them so much nearer, to make me so much more aware of all I had lost.

  And as I rode back I thought: These were the people who drove Mother Ginny to her death.

  Which one among them had been wearing a grey robe?

  And there it was back again and with it a fearful apprehension.

  But he wasn’t there, I kept telling myself. He was in Bodmin.

  Soon he would be with me always. He would help me. I had been right about him when I was a little girl. I had thought he was wonderful then. Of course he was wonderful. He was good and kind, clever and resourceful, the sort of man who was born to be a leader.

  When the news broke that I was to be married to Rolf there was general approval.

  “This be very right and proper,” said Mrs. Penlock. “’Tain’t natural for a woman to be the squire. If God had intended it He would have made women men.”

  I thought that an odd sort of reasoning and I was glad that I could smile at it.

  “Well then,” said Isaacs, “I reckon Cador and Manor ’ull be one. That be spreading it a bit. Looks like nearly all the Duchy ’ull be Cador-Manor land.”

  That amused everyone very much.

  I wished I could go quietly into the kitchen as I used to and listen to their talk when they forgot I was there.

  I did hear one of the maids say: “If they wasn’t to wait the year ’twouldn’t do no harm. After all, this be special with her having known him so long and being all alone like.”

  “Mind you,” said one of the others, “’twould have to be a quiet wedding.”

  They were all very interested, which was not surprising because their livelihoods were tied up in Cador land. That made me feel a great responsibility, which was good for me and brought me out of my brooding.