Mistress of Mellyn

by Victoria Holt

  When I went down to the village one day I saw a notice outside the church to the effect that the horse show date was fixed for the first of November.

  I went back and told Alvean. I was delighted that she had lost none of her enthusiasm for the event. I had been afraid that, as the time grew near, her fear might have returned.

  I said to her: “There are only three weeks. We really ought to get in a little more practice.”

  She was quite agreeable.

  We could, I suggested, rearrange our schedule. Perhaps we could ride for an hour both in the mornings and in the afternoons.

  She was eager. “I’ll see what can be done,” I promised.

  Connan TreMellyn had gone down to Penzance. I discovered this quite by accident. Kitty told me, when she brought in my water one evening.

  “Master have gone off this afternoon,” she said. “’Tis thought he’ll be away for a week or more.”

  “I hope he’s back in time for the horse show,” I said.

  “Oh, he’ll be back for that. He be one of the judges. He’m always here for that.”

  I was annoyed with the man. Not that I expected him to tell me he was going; but I did feel he might have had the grace to say good-by to his daughter.

  I thought a good deal about him and I found myself wondering whether he had really gone to Penzance. I wondered whether Lady Treslyn was at home, or whether she had found it necessary to pay a visit to some relative.

  Really! I admonished myself. Whatever has come over you? How can you entertain such thoughts? It’s not as though you have any proof!

  I promised myself that while Connan TreMellyn was away there was no need to think of him, and that would be a relief.

  I was not entirely lying about that. I did feel relaxed by the thought that he was out of the house. I no longer felt it necessary to lock my door; but I continued to do so, purely on account of the Tapperty girls. I did not want them to know that I locked it for fear of the master—and although they were quite without education, they were sharp enough where such matters were concerned.

  “Now,” I said to Alvean, “we will concentrate on practising for the horse show.”

  I procured a list of the events. There were two jumping contests for Alvean’s age group, and I decided that she should take the elementary one, for I felt that she had a good chance of winning a prize in that; and of course the whole point of this was that she should win a prize and astonish her father.

  “Look, miss,” said Alvean, “there’s this one. Why don’t you go in for this?”

  “Of course I shall do no such thing.”

  “But why not?”

  “My dear child, I am here to teach you, not to enter for competitions.”

  A mischievous look came into her eyes. “Miss,” she said, “I’m going to enter you for that. You’d win. There’s nobody here can ride as well as you do. Oh, miss, you must!”

  She was looking at me with what I construed as shy pride, and I felt a thrill of pleasure. I enjoyed her pride in me. She wanted me to win.

  Well, why not? There was no rule about social standing in these contests, was there?

  I fell back on my stock phrase for ending an embarrassing discussion.

  “We’ll see,” I said.

  One afternoon we were riding close to Mount Widden and met Peter Nansellock.

  He was mounted on a beautiful bay mare, the sight of which made my eyes glisten with envy.

  He came galloping toward us and pulled up, dramatically removing his hat and bowing from the waist.

  Alvean laughed delightedly.

  “Well met, dear ladies,” he cried. “Were you coming to call on us?”

  “We were not,” I answered.

  “How unkind! But now you are here, you must come in for a little refreshment.”

  I was about to protest when Alvean cried: “Oh, do let’s, miss. Yes, please. Uncle Peter, we’ll come in.”

  “I had hoped you would call before this,” he said reproachfully.

  “We had received no definite invitation,” I reminded him.

  “For you there is always welcome at Mount Widden. Did I not make that clear?”

  He had turned his mare and we all three walked our horses side by side. He followed my gaze, which was fixed on the mare.

  “You like her?” he said.

  “Indeed I do. She’s a beauty.”

  “You’re a real beauty, are you not, Jacinth my pet?”

  “Jacinth. So that’s her name.”

  “Pretty, you’re thinking. Pretty name for a pretty creature. She’ll go like the wind. She’s worth four of that lumbering old cart horse you’re riding, Miss Leigh.”

  “Lumbering old cart horse? How absurd! Dion is a very fine horse.”

  “Was, Miss Leigh. Was! Do you not think that the creature has seen better days? Really, I should have thought Connan could have given you something better from his stables than poor old Dion.”

  “It was not a matter of his giving her any horse to ride,” said Alvean in hot defense of her father. “He does not know what horses we ride, does he, miss? These are the horses which Tapperty said we could have.”

  “Poor Miss Leigh! She should have a mount worthy of her. Miss Leigh, before you go, I would like you to take a turn on Jacinth. She’ll quickly show you what it feels like to be on a good mount again.”

  “Oh,” I said lightly, “we’re satisfied with what we have. They serve my purpose—which is to teach Alvean to ride.”

  “We’re practicing for the horse show,” Alvean told him. “I’m going in for one of the events, but don’t tell Papa; it’s to be a surprise.”

  Peter put his finger to his lips. “Trust me. I’ll keep your secret.”

  “And miss is entering for one of the events too. I’ve made her!”

  “She’ll be victorious,” he cried. “I’ll make a bet on it.”

  I said curtly: “I am not at all sure about this. It is only an idea of Alvean’s.”

  “But you must, miss!” cried Alvean. “I insist.”

  “We’ll both insist,” added Peter.

  We had reached the gates of Mount Widden which were wide open. There was no lodge here as at Mount Mellyn. We went up the drive—where the same types of flowers grew in profusion—the hydrangeas, fuchsias, and fir trees which were indigenous to this part of the country.

  I saw the house, gray stone as Mount Mellyn was, but much smaller and with fewer outbuildings. I noticed immediately that it was not so well cared for as what in that moment I presumptuously called “our” house and I felt an absurd thrill of pleasure because Mount Mellyn compared so favorably with Mount Widden.

  There was a groom in the stables and Peter told him to take charge of our horses. He did so and we went into the house.

  Peter clapped his hands and shouted: “Dick! Where are you, Dick?”

  The houseboy, whom I had seen when he had been sent over to Mount Mellyn with messages, appeared; and Peter said to him: “Tea, Dick. At once, in the library. We have guests.”

  “Yes, master,” said Dick and hurried away.

  We were in a hall which seemed quite modern when compared with our own hall. The floor was tessellated and a wide staircase at one end of the hall led to a gallery lined with oil paintings, presumably of the Nansellock family.

  I laughed at myself for scorning the place, which was very much larger, and much grander than the vicarage in which I had spent my childhood. But it had a neglected air—one might almost say one of decay.

  Peter took us into the library, a huge room the walls of which were lined with books on three sides. I noticed that the furniture was dusty and that dust was visible in the heavy curtains. What they need, I thought, is a Mrs. Polgrey with her beeswax and turpentine.

  “I pray you sit down, dear ladies,” said Peter. “It is to be hoped that tea will not long be delayed, although I must warn you that meals are not served with the precision which prevails in our rival across the cove.”
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  “Rival?” I said in surprise.

  “Well, how could there fail to be a little rivalry? Here we stand, side by side. But the advantages are all with them. They have the grander house, and the servants to deal with it. Your father, dear Alvean, is a man of property. We Nansellocks are his poor relations.”

  “You are not our relations,” Alvean reminded him.

  “Now is that not strange? One would have thought that, living side by side for generations, the two families would have mingled and become one. There must have been charming TreMellyn girls and charming Nansellock men. How odd that they did not join up and become relations! I suppose the mighty TreMellyns always looked down their arrogant noses at the poor Nansellocks and went farther afield to make their marriages. But now there is the fair Alvean. How maddening that we have no boy of your age to marry you, Alvean. I shall have to wait for you. There is nothing for it but that.”

  Alvean laughed delightedly. I could see that she was quite fascinated by him. And I thought: Perhaps he is more serious than he pretends. Perhaps he has already begun courting Alvean in a subtle way.

  Alvean began to talk about the horse show and he listened attentively. I occasionally joined in, and so the time passed until tea was brought to us.

  “Miss Leigh, will you honor us by pouring out?” Peter asked me.

  I said I should be happy to do so, and I placed myself at the head of the tea table.

  Peter watched me with attention which I found faintly embarrassing because it was not only admiring but contented.

  “How glad I am that we met,” he murmured as Alvean handed him his cup of tea. “To think that if I had been five minutes earlier or five minutes later, our paths might not have crossed. What a great part chance plays in our lives.”

  “Possibly we should have met at some other time.”

  “There may not be much more time left to us.”

  “You sound morbid. Do you think that something is going to happen to one of us?”

  He looked at me very seriously. “Miss Leigh,” he said, “I am going away.”

  “Where, Uncle Peter?” demanded Alvean.

  “Far away, my child, to the other side of the world.”

  “Soon?” I asked.

  “Possibly with the New Year.”

  “But where are you going?” cried Alvean in dismay.

  “My dearest child, I believe you are a little hurt at the thought of my departure.”

  “Uncle, where?” she demanded imperiously.

  “To seek my fortune.”

  “You’re teasing. You’re always teasing.”

  “Not this time. I have heard from a friend who was at Cambridge with me. He is in Australia, and there he has made a fortune. Gold! Think of it, Alvean. You too, Miss Leigh. Lovely gold … gold which can make a man … or woman … rich. And all one has to do is pluck it out of the ground.”

  “Many go in the hope of making fortunes,” I said, “but are they all successful?”

  “There speaks the practical woman. No, Miss Leigh, they are not all successful; but there is something named Hope which, I believe, springs eternal in the human breast. All may not have gold but they can all have Hope.”

  “Of what use is Hope if it is proved to be false?”

  “Until she is proved false she can give so much pleasure, Miss Leigh.”

  “Then I wish that your hopes may not prove false.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But I don’t want you to go, Uncle Peter.”

  “Thank you, my dear. But I shall come back a rich man. Imagine it. Then I shall build a new wing on Mount Widden. I will make a house as grand as—no, grander than—Mount Mellyn. And in the years to come people will say it was Peter Nansellock who saved the family fortunes. For, my dear young ladies, someone has to save them … soon.”

  He then began to talk of his friend who had gone to Australia a penniless young man and who, he was sure, was now a millionaire, or almost.

  He began planning how he would rebuild the house, and we both joined in. It was a pleasant game—building a house in the mind, to one’s own desires.

  I felt exhilarated by his company. He at least, I thought, has never made me feel my position. The very fact of his poverty—or what to him seemed poverty—endeared him to me.

  It was an enjoyable tea time.

  Afterward he took us out to the stables and both he and Alvean insisted on my mounting Jacinth, and showing them what I could do with her. My saddle was put on her, and I galloped her and jumped with her, and she responded to my lightest touch. She was a delicious creature and I envied him his possession of her.

  “Why,” he said, “she has taken to you, Miss Leigh. Not a single protest at finding a new rider on her back.”

  I patted her fondly and said: “She’s a beauty.”

  And the sensitive creature seemed to understand.

  We then mounted our horses, and Peter came to the gates of Mount Mellyn with us, riding Jacinth.

  As we went up to our rooms I decided that it had indeed been a very enjoyable afternoon.

  Alvean came to my room and stood for a while, her head on one side. She said: “He likes you, I think, miss.”

  “He is merely polite toward me,” I replied.

  “No, I think he likes you rather specially … in the way he liked Miss Jansen.”

  “Did Miss Jansen go to tea at Mount Widden?”

  “Oh yes. I didn’t have riding lessons with her, but we used to walk over there. And one day we had tea just as we did this afternoon. He’d just bought Jacinth then and he showed her to us. He said he was going to change her name to make her entirely his. Then he said her name was to be Jacinth. That was Miss Jansen’s name.”

  I felt foolishly deflated. Then I said: “He must have been very sorry when she left so suddenly.”

  Alvean was thoughtful. “Yes, I think he was. But he soon forgot all about her. After all …”

  I finished the sentence for her: “She was only the governess, of course.”

  It was later that day when Kitty came up to my room to tell me that there was a message for me from Mount Widden.

  “And something more too, miss,” she said; it was clearly something which excited her, but I refrained from questioning her since I should soon discover what this was.

  “Well,” I said, “where is the message?”

  “In the stables, miss.” She giggled. “Come and see.”

  I went to the stables, and Kitty followed me at a distance.

  When I arrived there I saw Dick, the Mount Widden houseboy; and, to my astonishment, he had the mare, Jacinth, with him.

  He handed me a note.

  I saw that Daisy, her father, and Billy Trehay were all watching me with amused and knowing eyes.

  I opened the note and read it.

  [It said] Dear Miss Leigh,

  You could not hide from me your admiration for Jacinth. I believe she reciprocates your feelings. That is why I am making you a present of her. I could not bear to see such a fine and graceful rider as yourself on poor old Dion. So pray accept this gift.

  Your admiring neighbor,

  Peter Nansellock.

  In spite of efforts to control myself I felt the hot color rising from my neck to my forehead. I knew that Tapperty found it hard to repress a snigger.

  How could Peter be so foolish! Was he laughing at me? How could I possibly accept such a gift, even if I wanted to? Horses had to be fed and stabled. It was almost as though he had forgotten this was not my home.

  “Is there an answer, miss?” asked Dick.

  “Indeed there is,” I said. “I will go to my room at once, and you may take it back with you.”

  I went with as much dignity as I could muster in front of such an array of spectators back to the house, and in my room I wrote briefly:

  Dear Mr. Nansellock,

  Thank you for your magnificent gift which I am, of course, quite unable to accept. I have no means of keeping a horse here.
It may have escaped you that I am employed in this house as a governess. I could not possibly afford the upkeep of Jacinth. Thank you for the kind thought.

  Yours truly,

  Martha Leigh.

  I went straight back to the stables. I could hear them all laughing and talking excitedly as I approached.

  “Here you are, Dick,” I said. “Please take this note to your master with Jacinth.”

  “But …” stammered Dick, “I was to leave her here.”

  I looked straight into Tapperty’s lewd old face. “Mr. Nansellock,” I said, “is fond of playing jokes.”

  Then I went back to the house.

  The next day was a Saturday and Alvean asked that, since it was a half holiday, if we could not take the morning off and go to the moors. Her Great-aunt Clara had a house there, and she would be pleased to see us.

  I considered this. I thought it would be rather pleasant to get away from the house for a few hours. I knew that they must all be talking about me and Peter Nansellock.

  I guessed that he had behaved with Miss Jansen as he was behaving with me, and it amused them all to see the story of one governess turning out so much like another.

  I wondered about Miss Jansen. Had she perhaps been a little frivolous? I pictured her stealing, whatever she was supposed to have stolen, that she might buy herself fine clothes to appear beautiful in the sight of her admirer.

  And he had not cared when she was dismissed. A fine friend he would be!

  We set out after breakfast. It was a beautiful day for riding, for the October sun was not too fierce and there was a soft southwest wind. Alvean was in high spirits, and I thought this would be a good exercise in staying power. If she could manage the long ride to her great-aunt’s house and back without fatigue I should be delighted.

  I felt it was pleasant to get away from the watchful eyes of the servants, and it was delightful to be in the moorland country.

  I found that the great tracts of moor fitted my mood. I was enchanted by the low stone walls, the gray boulders, and the gay little streams which trickled over them.