by Trevallion
"There's some spark in you," the old lady observed with appreciation. "Make yourself pretty tonight, Anna. We dress up on these occasions, you know, and Alix, no doubt, will be taking particular trouble. Send Rick to me now, please. It's becoming a tiring morning."
Anna met Rick on the stairs and would have brushed past him had he not barred her way.
"Has Gran been upsetting you?" he asked, not, she thought, with solicitude, but with amusement at the possible turn the interview might have taken.
"No," she said, aware that her cheeks were flushed and her breathing still a little fast. "She's waiting for you now."
"You mustn't take us all so seriously," he said, and she looked down into his dark, upturned face. He stood on the lower step and one arm was still stretched to the balustrade, barring her passage.
"Mustn't I?" she said. "It's a little difficult, sometimes, to know when to take any of you seriously."
His heavy eyebrows shot up.
"Are you alluding to last night's conversation?" he said. "I was perfectly serious then, I assure you."
"Last night's conversation can wait," she said. "Your grandmother's birthday is of first importance now."
"Do you think so? Well, Anna, I'm not waiting—no Peveril ever does. Tonight will get things settled, I think."
He took his hand from the balustrade and continued to mount the stairs. Anna slipped past him, half expecting him to seize her by the shoulder and hold her there.
During the rest of the day Anna could forget the events of the morning. There were many things to be done; washing the special dinner service which would be used that night, arranging flowers, choosing wines. She and Ruth worked at whatever chore was allotted to them, and were even admitted to the kitchen to help with the canapes.
"Is the pie going to be all right?" Ruth asked, running to the oven to inspect progress.
"Of course! Now, Miss Ruth, leave that oven door alone or you'd ruin the crust," Rebecca retorted, but even she was anxious. Mrs. Peveril's birthday was clearly a day which disrupted the usual smooth running of Trevallion.
"I think we'd have dinner on the terrace," Ruth said. "It hasn't always been fine enough for an outdoor party."
"Well," said Rebecca dubiously, "your grandma's pretty old. When the evening mists rise it can be terrible damp."
"Rot!" Ruth said, ready to wield, on this one day of the year, her supreme authority in the house. "A day like this is perfect for alfresco meals. By the evening we shall all be so exhausted that dinner on the terrace will be a relief. Besides —it's kind of romantic and festive out of doors by candlelight, isn't it, Anna?"
Rebecca sniffed, but Anna looked at Ruth with affectionate eyes. In the excitement of the preparations, Ruth had completely lost her sullenness. She was as eager as a child to snatch orthodoxy from the party, to make of the evening something special to be remembered.
"It sounds lovely," Anna said. "What are you going to wear, Ruth? Mrs. Peveril said we dressed up a little."
"Oh, just something a bit different. Actually, I haven't anything smart. I may wash my hair, though."
"Yes, wash your hair and let me set it for you," said Anna eagerly. "You must look very nice for tonight."
"Why?"'
"I don't know. Only that it's an occasion and—and—well, you're worth taking trouble over, you know."
Upstairs in Ruth's bedroom, she and Anna were still discussing clothes.
"Look for yourself," Ruth said, flinging open a cupboard door. "It will have to be either the beige or the brown. I've got nothing else."
"What's this?" asked Anna, diving into the back of the cupboard and fetching out a dress of soft, dull crimson.
"Oh, that's an old cast-off of Alix's," Ruth said uninterest-edly. "I've never worn it. It's too grand for tonight, anyway."
"Nonsense!" said Anna, laying the dress on the bed for inspection. She should have known, she thought, that Ruth would never have owned a dress of this sort. It was a pity it had once belonged to Alix, who would be present at the party, but the colour was splendid for Ruth and the lines of the frock would do wonders for her.
"Go and wash your hair," Anna said.
She set Ruth's hair in close, simple waves, tied on a net and took her out into the garden to dry in the sun.
"Why all the bother? Nobody's coming but family," Ruth said with awkward brusqueness, but she looked pleased. No one, until this moment, had ever troubled to make her look nice.
She lay on the lawn under the cedar. Rick, although he had taken a day off from the quarry, had been absent since lunch. Birdie, Anna supposed, was occupied in the topiary or the piggeries, or, perhaps, giving Sol a hand in the kitchen. Heat
rose from the sunbaked earth and the sound of the sea was only a faint murmur in the distance.
"How peaceful it is," Anna said, stretching out contentedly in the grass. "Wouldn't you miss Trevallion if you went, Ruth?"
"No, but I'm not likely to go. How are you going to like it, Anna, in the winter?"
"I don't know. Perhaps I won't be here."
"You mean you may not marry Rick?"
"You've never wanted me to, have you?"
"When you first came, no—but now it's different."
"Why?"
"I don't know. You've been nice to me, Anna. I—I wasn't very nice to you, I know. It's so hard to forget Alix." "Forget her?"
"Forget that she was going to be Rick's wife, I mean. I still can't understand why he prefers you."
Anna flicked a small green beetle out of the crook of her elbow. She thought of Alix poised on the diving rock, her magnificent body firm and strong and beautiful.
"No, I don't suppose you can," she said. "What were you all like as children, Ruth? Did Alix rule the nursery?"
"She and Rick between them. Nigel, of course, used to give way, but Rick never would. It's odd, isn't it, how life works out? If Nigel had lived, I would probably have been quite different."
"He was your favourite brother?" Anna asked with surprise.
"Oh, yes," said Ruth sleepily. "Nigel was the gentle one."
Anna caught an echo of old Mrs. Peveril's voice this morning. Would Nigel, had he lived, have held the balance between them all? Would Alix have still queened it, as in nursery days, and would Rick have grown hard and arrogant just the same?
She sighed.
"How hard it is to understand people," she said. There was a sudden outburst of noise from the piggeries;
men's voices shouting, the squealing of pigs and the shrill sound of a dog barking.
"Ranger!" cried Ruth, starting to her feet. "Oh, no! Not on Gran's birthday!"
She ran across the lawn and Anna followed. In the piggeries pandemonium reigned. Anna could see Sol, in his shirt sleeves, brandishing a shovel, while Birdie danced up and down, ineffectually waving his arms. The dog's barking ceased suddenly, and Ruth flung herself upon Sol, trying to wrench the shovel out of his hands.
"You hit him!" she cried. "You've killed him!"
"Nay, Miss Ruth, 'twas the old sow. Powerful fierce her be. I was a-driving of her off."
The spaniel lay on its side in the muck of the sty. Ruth bent over him, but her frantic voice continued to upbraid Sol.
"You've always had it in for him!" she cried. "Why couldn't you have called me? Why did you have to hit him with a shovel?"
"Beggar me! Why can't you keep the dratted dog away from my pigs?" Sol retaliated, affronted. "Serve 'e right if I 'ad bashed 'un—always chasing they pigs—when they has little 'uns, too!"
"Ruth, my dear!" Birdie intervened agitatedly. "Sol didn't touch him. If it hadn't been for him the sow would have trampled on him more."
Ruth gathered the inert body of the dog into her arms. She looked absurd and undignified with her hair done up in curlers and a net tied round her head, but there was a stricken expression on her face that went straight to Anna's heart.
"Lay him down on the grass," she said gently. "I think he's only stunned."
"The sow could have broken his ribs," Ruth said. Unaccustomed tears were running down her face, but she felt the dog's bones with steady, experienced fingers.
"I don't think-" she began, and the spaniel opened his
eyes and feebly wagged his tail. "Oh, Ranger, boy . . . oh,
my poor man . . . what have they done to you?"
Sol stood awkwardly leaning on his shovel. His lugubrious face, though still angry, began to express concern. Birdie looked anxiously up at the house and said:
"Oh, dear! Oh, goodness me! I trust Cousin Maud hasn't heard the noise."
"David must be fetched!" said Ruth, and Sol winked at Birdie.
The dog got to his feet, tottered a few paces over the grass, then stood and shook himself and made off for the house.
"Right as rain, the old rascal!" Sol exclaimed with relief, and turned back to soothe his still protesting pigs.
Anna followed Ruth into the house. The dog had run to its basket in the den and Ruth was on her knees beside it, talking to the spaniel in little broken sentences.
"I think he's all right," she said at last, "but we must ring David."
Anna glanced at the clock. It was already nearly five. At six-thirty Mrs. Peveril would be making her entrance for the present-giving.
"Do you think it's necessary?" she asked doubtfully. "He seems to have recovered, and we ought to be thinking of dressing, soon."
"I must be on the safe side," Ruth said. "When David's examined him I shall feel easy again. Would you ring him up for me, please? The number's on the pad."
"Very well," said Anna reluctantly. She did not think there was anything much wrong with the dog and she knew, instinctively, that Ruth would get short shrift if her grandmother's party plans should be disturbed at the last minute. She was fortunate, however, in finding the vet at his surgery. He would, he said, be out within an hour.
"Get dressed now, and let me do your hair," Anna said, going back to Ruth. "When David's been you will be ready for the party and no one any the wiser."
Ruth left her dog reluctantly, but she saw the sense of Anna's advice. David might be late and, in any case, Gran
would expect the full company assembled when she made her entrance.
Anna got half dressed herself, then went to Ruth's room to put the finishing touches to her hair. Alix's old dress became her well. She looked at herself in the long mirror and her eyes were suddenly a little shy.
"I'm not bad-looking, after all," she said with naive surprise.
"All the Peverils have looks—why should you be different?" Anna said briskly. "Now sit down and let me fix your hair. I'm rather glad David is coming out this evening."
Ruth flushed.
"He's never seen me dressed up before," she said slowly. "I—do I really look nice, Anna?"
"You look very handsome," said Anna sincerely. "Your figure is almost as fine as Alix's and your expression is much nicer. Now, will you go down and wait?"
"Come with me," Ruth said, feeling suddenly insecure.
"Well, until just after six. I've got to finish dressing myself," said Anna, and they went downstairs together.
In the den the spaniel greeted them and seemed none the worse for his adventure, but Anna was pleased the young vet would see Ruth looking as she did tonight. He arrived punctually at six o'clock and Anna saw with satisfaction the expression in his eyes as Ruth came forward to greet him. She slipped out of the room, aware that neither of them had noticed her going, and ran upstairs to finish dressing.
They were all assembled when she came down to the long living-room, Rick, Ruth, Birdie and Alix. The presents were set out on a table by the open french window and Rick was already occupying himself with the drinks.
Alix lounged in her favourite chair. She wore vivid green taffeta that was cut very low at the breast and rustled invitingly as she moved. Her eyes were sleepy but watchful, like a cat's, as she followed Rick's movements. She gave Anna a brief nod but did not rise.
"All well?" Anna whispered to Ruth, and the girl smiled back.
"Yes," she said, "no bones broken. He's coming out tomorrow to give the boy the once over again."
Anna touched her lightly in passing. She thought from Ruth's brilliant colour and shy eyes that more than an exchange on veterinary matters had passed between the two, and she studied Ruth's sleek, shining black hair and was innocently proud of her handiwork.
"I must say, Ruth, you're looking uncommonly well tonight," Rick remarked suddenly. "What have you been doing to yourself?"
"I'm glad my old frock has come in useful," Alix said.
"Anna did my hair," Ruth muttered, embarrassed by his unusual interest.
"Did she indeed? The result is very pleasing."
"A pity you aren't as clever with your own, darling," Alix drawled from her deep chair.
"I think Anna's hair looks very nice," Ruth retorted unexpectedly, and Rick grinned.
"Very properly spoken," he mocked. "You mustn't make disparaging remarks about my fiancee, Alix."
Alix only laughed and her glance plainly told them all that she did not take his mild rebuke seriously.
"My hair," said Anna, alarmed that so early in the evening the Peverils appeared to be ready to bicker, "has never been easy. Too fine, you see, and rather straight."
"Well," said Rick carelessly, "anything's better than that pony-tail."
Alix laughed again, and at that moment old Mrs. Peveril made her entrance and everyone's attention was immediately diverted.
She came slowly into the room, leaning on her stick, and they all went forward to greet her. She wore the trailing black dress she had put on the night of Anna's arrival and added a fichu of old, yellowing lace from which the brilliant sunburst brooch
sent out sparks of fire. Diamonds were in her ears and more rings had joined the ones that were never removed. She looked more like a witch than ever as she peered into their faces one by one; Anna would not have been at all surprised had the long, ebony cane changed suddenly into a broomstick.
"Well, Alix, my dear," she said, when they had kissed, "you look very handsome this evening. That colour becomes you. Ruth, I've never seen you look so well."
"And Anna," Birdie interposed a little clumsily. "She looks charming, too, don't you think, Cousin Maud?"
Mrs. Peveril's eyes flicked over Anna with dry amusement.
"Oh, yes," she said without much interest. "Now, let me look at my presents."
While she undid her parcels, Rick poured the drinks and handed them round.
"Don't look so lost," he murmured to Anna as he gave her her glass. "Next year you'll be a Peveril yourself, you know."
He had passed on before she could think of an adequate reply, but she knew the treacherous colour had crept under her skin.
Mrs. Peveril seemed genuinely delighted with Anna's gift. She held the little patch-box in her claw-like hand, bidding them all look and admire, and she touched Anna's cheek with her dry fingers and told her that she had sensibility. When the last of the presents had been opened and laid aside, Rick proposed the toast and they stood in a circle round the old lady and raised their glasses to her.
"And now," Rick said, his eyes dweding suddenly upon Anna, "I would like to propose another toast. We have two birthday queens here today, though all of us, except Ruth, have been taken by surprise. Will you kindly drink to Anna, twenty years old today."
Anna was aware of all their eyes on her; Ruth's affectionate, Birdie's vague and astonished, Alix's impatient, Rick's grave, and Mrs. Peveril's bright and enquiring.
"Why didn't you tell us, dear child?" she asked with a slight hint of irritation.
"It didn't seem important," Anna replied nervously.
"To be twenty years old not important?" The sharpness had gone from the old face. For an instant, Anna could see, the old lady dwelt in a time over half a century ago. Her hand trembled slightly as she raised her glass to Anna.
"I remember when I was twenty," she said. "T
here was a big dinner and fireworks when it was dark. I had just become engaged to your grandfather, Rick. It was my first party at Trevallion."
"History, then, is repeating itself," Rick said softly. "Here's my present, Anna."
He put a long, worn leather case into her hands, and she open it, feeling a little dazed. Behind her, Alix drew a sharp, dismayed breath and exclaimed:
"The Peveril pearls! I thought, Rick, they came to Peveril brides on their wedding day."
"Does it matter?" said Rick with a slight edge to his voice and, taking the string of perfecdy matched pearls from their case, put them round Anna's neck and snapped the clasp.
"Oh, no!" Anna said, immeasurably distressed. She put up her hands to undo the clasp but felt them caught in Rick's strong grip.
"Oh, yes!" he said, giving her fingers a none too gentle pinch. "Don't be coy, Anna. You'd be wearing them very soon, anyway."
She was aware of Alix's eyes on the pearls at her throat and the naked desire and anger in her beautiful scornful face. Perhaps Mrs. Peveril saw it too, for she put a restraining hand on the girl's arm and said firmly:
"She can at least wear them for tonight. Tomorrow, Anna, I will find you a trinket from my jewel box. It was too bad of you to have kept your birthday secret. Now, dinner must be nearly ready. I hope Rebecca's starry-gazy pie is up to standard."
It was, thought Anna, a curious meal. Perhaps because they ate on the terrace with the candle flames tapering high in the airless evening, attracting the moths, and the light fading slowly from the lawns, they all seemed a little unreal. Rick and Ruth and Alix unfamiliar in the elegant formality of the occasion, Mrs. Peveril presiding at the head of the long table, her jewels flashing as she moved, and Anna herself, with the Peveril pearls cool and alien against her flesh, reminding her that she had no claim to them or to the future of Trevallion. Only Birdie seemed as usual, vague and retiring, eating his food with enjoyment as if the evening was no different to any other.
"Excellent . . . excellent . . ." he said, finding choice morsels in his starry-gazy pie. "Rebecca hasn't lost her cunning with Cornish dishes, has she?"