Mistress of Mellyn

by Victoria Holt

  The biggest logs were carried in for the fireplaces; then the servants’ hall was decorated in exactly the same manner as the great hall, and the house was filled with laughter.

  “We do have our ball here while the family be having theirs,” Daisy told me; and I wondered to which ball I should go. Perhaps to neither. A governess’s position was somewhere in between, I supposed.

  “My life!” cried Daisy. “I can scarcely wait for the day. Last Christmas was a quiet one … had to be on account of the house being in mourning. But we in the servants’ hall managed pretty well. There was dash-an-darras and metheglin to drink, and Mrs. Polgrey’s sloe gin had to be tasted to be believed. There was mutton and beef, I remember, and hog’s pudding. No feast in these parts ain’t complete without hog’s pudding. You ask Father!”

  All through Christmas Eve the smell of baking filled the kitchen and its neighborhood. Tapperty, with Billy Trehay and some of the boys from the stables, came to the door just to smell it. Mrs. Tapperty was up at the house all day working in the kitchen. I scarcely recognized the usually calm and dignified Mrs. Polgrey. She was bustling about, her face flushed, purring, stirring, and talking ecstatically of pies which bore the odd name of squab and lammy, giblet, muggety, and herby.

  I was called in to help. “Do ’ee keep your eye on that saucepan, miss, and should it come to the boil tell I quickly.” Mrs. Polgrey’s dialect became more and more broad as the excitement grew, and I could scarcely understand the language which was being bandied about in the kitchen that Christmas.

  I was smiling fatuously at a whole batch of pasties which had just come out of the oven, golden-brown pastry with the smell of savory meats and onions, when Kitty came in shouting: “M’am, the curl singers be here.”

  “Well, bring ’em, bring ’em in, ye daftie,” cried Mrs. Polgrey, forgetting dignity in the excitement and wiping her hand across her sweating brow. “What be ’ee waiting for? Don’t ’ee know, me dear, that it be bad luck to keep curl singers waiting?”

  I followed her into the hall, where a company of village youths and girls had gathered. They were already singing when we arrived, and I then understood that the “curl” singers were carol singers.

  They rendered “The Seven Joys of Mary,” “The Holly and the Ivy,” “The Twelve Days of Christmas,” and “The First Noel.” We all joined in.

  Then the leader of the group began to sing:

  “Come let me taste your Christmas beer

  That is so very strong,

  And I do wish that Christmas time,

  With all its mirth and song,

  Was twenty times as Long.”

  Then Mrs. Polgrey signed to Daisy and Kitty, who were already on their way, I guessed, to bring refreshment to the party after this gentle reminder.

  Metheglin was served to the singers with blackberry and elderberry wine, and into their hands were thrust great pasties, some containing meat, some fish. The satisfaction was evident.

  And when they had finished eating and drinking, a bowl—tied with red ribbons and decorated with furze—was handed to Mrs. Polgrey who very majestically placed some coins into it.

  When they had gone Daisy said: “Well, now that lot have come a-gooding, what’s to be next?”

  She delighted in my ignorance, of course, when I had to ask what “a-gooding” meant.

  “My dear life, you don’t know all, miss, do ’ee now? To go a-gooding means to go collecting for Christmas wine or a Christmas cake. What else?”

  I realized that I had a great deal to learn concerning the habits of the Cornish, but I did feel that I was enjoying their way of celebrating Christmas.

  “Oh, miss, I forgot to tell ‘ee,” cried Daisy. “There be a parcel in your room. I took it up just afore them come a-gooding, and forgot to tell ’ee till now.” She was surprised because I lingered. “A parcel, miss! Don’t ‘ee want to see what it is? ’Twas so size, and ‘twas a box like as not.”

  I realized that I had been in a dream. I felt that I wanted to stay here forever, and learn all the customs of this part of the world. I wanted to make it my part of the world.

  I shook myself out of that dream. What you really want, I told myself, is some fairytale ending to your story. You want to be the mistress of Mount Mellyn. Why not admit it?

  I went up to my room, and there I found Phillida’s parcel.

  I took out a shawl of black silk on which was embroidered a pattern in green and amber. There was also an amber comb of the Spanish type. I stuck the comb in my hair and wrapped the shawl about me. I was startled by my reflection. I looked exotic, more like a Spanish dancer than an English governess.

  There was something else in the parcel. I undid it quickly and saw that it was a dress—one of Phillida’s which I had greatly admired. It was of green silk, the same shade of green as in the shawl. A letter fell out.

  Dear Marty,

  How is the governessing? Your last letter sounded as though you found it intriguing. I believe your Alvean is a little horror. Spoiled child, I’ll swear. Are they treating you well? It sounded as if that side of it was not too bad. What is the matter with you, by the way? You used to write such amusing letters. Since you’ve been in that place you’ve become uncommunicative. I suspect you either love it or hate it. Do tell.

  The shawl and comb are my Christmas gift. I hope you like them because I spent a lot of time choosing. Are they too frivolous? Would you rather have had a set of woolen underwear or some improving book? But I heard from Aunt Adelaide that she is sending you the former. There is a distinctly governessy flavor in your letters. All sound and fury, Marty my dear, signifying nothing. I am wondering whether you’ll be sitting down to dine with the family this Christmas or presiding in the servants’ hall. I’m sure it will be the former. They couldn’t help but ask you. After all, it is Christmas. You’ll dine with the family even if there’s one of those dinner parties where a guest doesn’t turn up and they say, “Send for the governess. We cannot be thirteen.” So our Marty goes to dine in my old green and her new scarf and comb, and here she attracts a millionaire and lives happy ever after.

  Seriously, Marty, I did think you might need something for the festivities. So the green gown is a gift. Don’t think of it as a castoff. I love the thing and I’m giving it to you, not because I’m tired of it, but because it always suited you better than me.

  I shall want to hear all about the Christmas festivities. And, dear sister, when you’re the fourteenth at the dinner table don’t freeze likely suitors with a look or give them one of your clever retorts. Be a nice gentle girl and, kind lady, I see romance and fortune in the cards for you.

  Happy Christmas, dear Marty, and do write soon sending the real news. The children and William send their love. Mine to you also.

  Phillida.

  I felt rather emotional. It was a link with home. Dear Phillida, she did think of me often then. Her shawl and comb were beautiful, even if a little incongruous for someone in my humble position; and it was good of her to send the dress.

  I was startled by a sudden cry. I spun round and saw Alvean at the door which led to the schoolroom.

  “Miss!” she cried. “So it’s you!”

  “Of course. Who did you think it was?”

  She did not answer, but I knew.

  “I’ve never seen you look like that, miss.”

  “You’ve never seen me in a shawl and comb.”

  “You look … pretty.”

  “Thank you, Alvean.”

  She was a little shaken. I knew who she had thought it was standing in my room.

  I was the same height as Alice, and if I were less slender that would not be obvious with the silk shawl round me.

  Christmas Day was a day to remember all my life.

  I awoke in the morning to the sounds of excitement. The servants were laughing and talking together below my window.

  I opened my eyes and thought: Christmas Day. And then: My first Christmas at Mount Mellyn.

>   Perhaps, I said to myself, trying to throw a cold douche over my exuberance which somehow made me apprehensive because it was so great, it will be not only your first but your last.

  A whole year lay between this Christmas and the next. Who could say what would happen in that time?

  I was out of bed when my water was brought up. Daisy scarcely stopped a moment, she was so full of excitement.

  “I be late, miss, but there be so much to do. You’d better hurry now or you’ll not be in time to see the wassail. They’ll be coming early, you can depend on that. They know the family ’ull be off to church, so they mustn’t be late.”

  There was no time to ask questions so I washed and dressed and took out my parcels. Alvean’s had already been put by her bed the previous night.

  I went to the window. The air was balmy and it had that strong tang of spices in it. I drew deep breaths and listened to the gentle rhythm of the waves. They said nothing this morning; they merely swished contentedly. This was Christmas morning when for a day all troubles, all differences might be shelved.

  Alvean came to my room. She was carrying her embroidered handkerchiefs rather shyly. She said: “Thank you, miss. A happy Christmas!”

  I put my arms about her and kissed her, and although she seemed a little embarrassed by this demonstration, she returned my kiss.

  She had brought a brooch so like the silver whip I had given her that I thought for a moment that she was returning my gift.

  “I got it from Mr. Pastern,” she said. “I wanted one as near mine as possible, but not too near, so that we shouldn’t get them mixed up. Yours has got a little engraving on the handle. Now we’ll each have one when we go riding.”

  I was delighted. She had not ridden since her accident, and she could not have shown me more clearly that she was ready to start again.

  I said: “You could not have given me anything I should have liked better, Alvean.”

  She was very pleased, although she murmured in an offhand way: “I’m glad you like it, miss.” Then she left me abruptly.

  This, I told myself, is going to be a wonderful day. It’s Christmas.

  My presents proved to be a great success. Mrs. Polgrey’s eyes glistened at the sight of the whisky; as for Gilly, she was delighted with her scarf. I suppose the poor child had never had anything so pretty before; she kept stroking it and staring at it in wonder. Daisy and Kitty were pleased with their scarves too; and I felt I had been clever in my choice.

  Mrs. Polgrey gave me a set of doilies with a coy whisper: “For your bottom drawer, me dear.” I replied that I would start one immediately, and we were very gay. She said that she would make a cup of tea and we’d sample my whisky, but there wasn’t the time.

  “My dear life, when I think of all there has to be done today!”

  The wassail singers arrived in the morning and I heard their voices at the door of the great hall.

  “The master and mistress our wassail begin

  Pray open your door and let us come in

  With our wassail, wassail, wassail.

  And joy come to our jolly wassail.”

  They came into the hall, and they also carried a bowl into which coins were dropped; all the servants crowded in and, as Connan entered, the singing grew louder and the verse was repeated.

  “The master and the mistress …”

  I thought: Two years ago Alice would have stood there with him. Does he remember? He showed no sign. He sang with them and ordered that the stirrup cup, the dash-an-darras, be brought out with the saffron cake and pasties and gingerbread, which had been made for the occasion.

  He moved nearer to me.

  “Well, Miss Leigh,” he said under cover of the singing, “what do you think of a Cornish Christmas?”

  “Very interesting.”

  “You haven’t seen half yet.”

  “I should hope not. The day has scarcely begun.”

  “You should rest this afternoon.”

  “But why?”

  “For the feasting this evening.”

  “But I …”

  “Of course you will join us. Where else would you spend your Christmas Day? With the Polgreys? With the Tappertys?”

  “I did not know. I wondered whether I was expected to hover between the great hall and the servants’ hall.”

  “You look disapproving.”

  “I am not sure.”

  “Oh come, this is Christmas. Do not wonder whether you should be sure or not. Just come. By the way, I have not wished you a merry Christmas yet. I have something here … a little gift. A token of my gratitude, if you like. You have been so good to Alvean since her accident. Oh, and before of course, I have no doubt. But it has been brought to my notice so forcibly since …”

  “But I have only done my duty as a governess.”

  “And that is something you would always do. I know it. Well, let’s say this is merely to wish you a merry Christmas.”

  He had pressed a small object into my hand, and I was so overcome with pleasure that I felt it must show in my eyes and betray my feelings to him.

  “You are very good to me,” I said. “I had not thought …”

  He smiled and moved away to the singers. I had noticed Tapperty’s eyes on us. I wondered whether he had seen the gift handed to me.

  I wanted to be alone, for I felt so emotionally disturbed. The small case he had pressed into my hand was demanding to be opened. I could not do so here.

  I slipped out of the hall and ran up to my room.

  It was a small, blue plush case, the sort which usually contained jewelery.

  I opened it. Inside, on oyster-colored satin, lay a brooch. It was in the form of a horseshoe, and it was studded with what could only be diamonds.

  I stared at it in dismay. I could not accept such a valuable object. I must return it of course.

  I held it up to the light and saw the flash of red and green in the stones. It must be worth a great deal of money. I possessed no diamonds, but I could see that these were fine ones.

  Why did he do it? If it had been some small token I should have been so happy. I wanted to throw myself onto my bed and weep.

  I could hear Alvean calling me. “Miss, it’s time for church. Come on, miss. The carriage is waiting to take us to church.”

  I hastily put the brooch into its box and put on my cape and bonnet as Alvean came into the room.

  I saw him after church. He was going across to the stables and I called after him.

  He hesitated, looked over his shoulder and smiled at me.

  “Mr. TreMellyn. It is very kind of you,” I said as I ran up to him, “but this gift is far too valuable for me to accept.”

  He put his head on one side and regarded me in the old mocking manner.

  “My dear Miss Leigh,” he said lightly. “I am a very ignorant man, I fear. I have no notion how valuable a gift must be before it is acceptable.”

  I flushed hotly and stammered: “This is a very valuable ornament.”

  “I thought it so suitable. A horseshoe means luck, you know. And you have a way with horses, have you not?”

  “I … I have no occasion to wear such a valuable piece of jewelery.”

  “I thought you might wear it to the ball tonight.”

  For a moment I had a picture of myself dancing with him. I should be wearing Phillida’s green silk dress, which would compare favorably with those of his guests because Phillida had a way with clothes. I would wear my shawl, and my diamond brooch would be proudly flaunted on the green silk, because I treasured it so much, and I treasured it because he had given it to me.

  “I feel I have no right.”

  “Oh,” he murmured, “I begin to understand. You feel that I give the brooch in the same spirit as Mr. Nansellock offered Jacinth.”

  “So …” I stammered, “you knew of that?”

  “Oh, I know most things that go on here, Miss Leigh. You returned the horse. Very proper and what I would expect of you. Now the b
rooch is given in a very different spirit. I give it to you for a reason. You have been good to Alvean. Not only as a governess but as a woman. Do you know what I mean? There is more to the care of a child, is there not, than arithmetic and grammar? You gave her that little extra. The brooch belonged to Alvean’s mother. Look upon it like this, Miss Leigh: it is a gift of appreciation from us both. Does that make it all right?”

  I was silent for a few moments. Then I said: “Yes … that is different, of course. I accept the brooch. Thank you very much, Mr. TreMellyn.”

  He smiled at me—it was a smile I did not fully understand because it seemed to hold in it many meanings.

  I was afraid to try to understand.

  “Thank you,” I murmured again; and I hurried back to the house.

  I went up to my room and took out the brooch. I pinned it on my dress, and immediately my lavender cotton took on a new look.

  I would wear the diamonds tonight. I would go in Phillida’s dress and my comb and shawl, and on my breast I would wear Alice’s diamonds.

  So on this strange Christmas Day I had a gift from Alice.

  I had dined in the middle of the day in the small dining room with Connan and Alvean, the first meal I had taken with them in this intimacy. We had eaten turkey and plum pudding and had been waited on by Kitty and Daisy. I could feel that certain significant looks were being directed toward us.

  “On Christmas Day,” Connan had said, “you could not be expected to dine alone. Do you know, Miss Leigh, I fear we have treated you rather badly. I should have suggested that you should go home to your family for Christmas. You should have reminded me.”

  “I felt I had been here too short a time to ask for a holiday,” I answered. “Besides …”