Mistress of Mellyn (4 page)

And I wondered whether she was like her father or mother.

Celestine Nansellock was standing by Alvean, and she laid a hand on her shoulder.

” Miss Alvean came over to see us,” she said. ” We’re great friends.

I’m Miss Nansellock of Mount Widden. You may have seen the house. “

” I did so on my journey from the station.”

” I trust you will not be cross with Alvean.”

I answered, looking straight into those defiant blue eyes:

” I could hardly scold for what happened before my arrival, could I?”

” She looks on me … on us … as part of her own family,” went on Celestine Nansellock. ” We’ve always lived so close to each other.”

” I am sure it is a great comfort to her,” I replied; and for the first time I gave my attention solely to Celestine Nansellock.

She was taller than I, but by no standards a beauty. Her hair was of a nondescript brown and her eyes were hazel. There was little colour in her face and an air of intense quietness about her. I decided she had little personality, but perhaps she was overshadowed by the defiance of Alvean and the conventional dignity of Mrs.

Polgrey.

” I do hope,” she said, ” that if you need my advice about anything.

Miss Leigh, you won’t hesitate to call on me. You see, I am quite a near neighbour, and I think I am looked on here as one of the family.

”

” You are very kind.”

Her mild eyes looked into mine. ” We want you to be happy here. Miss Leigh. We all want that.”

” Thank you. I suppose,” I went on, ” the first thing to do is to get Alvean to bed. It must be past her bedtime.”

Celestine smiled. ” You are right. Indeed it is. She usually has her milk and biscuits in the schoolroom at half past seven. It is now well past eight. But tonight I will look after her. I suggest that you return to your room, Miss Leigh. You must be weary after your journey.”

Before I could speak Alvean cried out: “No, Celestine. I want her to.

She’s my governess. She should, shouldn’t she? “

A hurt look immediately appeared in Celestine’s face, and Alvean could not repress the triumph in hers. I felt I understood. The child wanted to feel her own power; she wanted to prevent Celestine from superintending her retirement simply because Celestine wished so much to do it.

” Oh, very well,” said Celestine. ” Then there’s no further need for me to stay.”

She stood looking at Alvean as though she wanted her to beg her to stay, but Alvean’s curious gaze was all for me.

” Good night,” she said flippantly. And to me: ” Come on. I’m hungry.”

” You’ve forgotten to thank Miss Nansellock for bringing you back,” I told her.

” I didn’t forget,” she retorted. ” I never forget anything.”

” Then your memory is a great deal better than your manners,” I said.

They were astonished—all of them. Perhaps I was a little astonished myself. But I knew that if I were going to assume control of this child I should have to be firm.

Her face flushed and her eyes grew hard. She was about to retort, but, not knowing how to do so, she ran out of the room.

“There!” said Mrs. Polgrey.

“Why, Miss Nansellock, it was good of you” — ” Nonsense, Mrs. Polgrey,” said Celestine. ” Of course I brought her back.”

” She will thank you later,” I assured her.

” Miss Leigh,” said Celestine earnestly, ” it will be necessary for you to go carefully with that child. She has lost her mother … quite recently.” Celestine’s lips trembled. She smiled at me. ” It is such a short time ago and the tragedy seems near. She was a dear friend of mine.”

” I understand,” I replied. ” I shall not be harsh with the child, but I can see she needs discipline.”

” Be careful, Miss Leigh.” Celestine had taken a step closer and laid a hand on my arm. ” Children are delicate creatures.”

” I shall do my best for Alvean,” I answered.

” I wish you good luck.” She smiled and then turned to Mrs. Polgrey. “I’ll be going back now. I want to get back before dark.”

Mrs. Polgrey rang the bell and Daisy appeared.

” Take Miss to her room, Daisy,” she commanded. ” And has Miss Alvean got her milk and biscuits?”

” Yes, M’am,” was the answer.

I said good night to Celestine Nansellock, who inclined her head. Then I left with Daisy.

I went into the schoolroom where Alvean sat at a table drinking milk and eating biscuits. She deliberately ignored me as I went to the table and sat beside her.

” Alvean,” I said, ” if we’re going to get along together, we’d better come to an understanding. Don’t you think that would be advisable?”

” Why should I care?” she replied curtly.

” But of course you’ll care. We shall all be happier if we do.”

Alvean shrugged her shoulders. ” If we don’t,” she told me brusquely, “you’ll have to go. I’ll have another governess. It’s of no account to me.”

She looked at me triumphantly and I knew that she was telling me I was merely a paid servant and that it was for her to call the tune. I felt myself shiver involuntarily. For the first time I understood the feelings of those who depended on the goodwill of others for their bread and butter.

Her eyes were malicious and I wanted to slap her.

“It should be of the greatest account,” I answered, ” because it is far more pleasant to live in harmony than in discord with those about us.”

” What does it matter, if they’re not about us … if we can have them sent away?”

” Kindness matters more than anything in the world.”

She smiled into her milk and finished it.

” Now,” I said, ” to bed.”

I rose with her and she said : ” I go to bed by myself. I am not a baby, you know.”

” Perhaps I thought you were younger than you are because you have so much to learn.”

She considered that. Then she gave that shrug of her shoulders’ which I was to discover was characteristic.

” Good night,” she said, dismissing me.

” I’ll come and say good night when you are in bed.”

” There’s no need.”

” Nevertheless, I’ll come.”

She opened the door which led to her room from the school room. I turned and went into mine.

I felt very depressed because I was realising the size of the problem before me. I had no experience of handling children, and in the past when I thought of them I had visualised docile and affectionate little creatures whom it would be a joy to care for. Here I was with a difficult child on my hands. And what would happen to me if it were decided that I was unfit to undertake her care? What did happen to penurious gentle women who failed to please their employers?

I could go to PhiUida. I could be one of those old aunts who were at the beck and call of all and lived out their miserable lives dependent on others. I was not the sort of person to take dependence lightly. I should have to find other posts.

I accepted the fact that I was a little frightened. Not until I had come face to face with Alvean had I realised that I might not succeed with this job. I tried not to look down the years ahead when I might slip from one post to another, never giving satisfaction. What happened to women like myself, women who, without those attractions which were so important, were forced to battle against the world for a chance to live?

I felt that I could have thrown myself on my bed and wept, wept with anger against the cruelty of life, which had robbed me of two loving parents and sent me out ill-equipped into the world.

I imagined myself appearing at Alvean’s bedside, my face stained with tears. What triumph for her! That was no way to begin the battle which I was sure must rage between us.

I walked up and down my room, trying to control my emotions. I went to the window and looked out across the lawns to the hilly country beyond. I could not see the sea because the house was so built that the back faced the coast and I was at the front. Instead I looked beyond the plateau on which the house stood, to the hills.

Such beauty! Such peace without, I ‘thought. Such conflict within.

When I leaned out of the window I could see Mount Widden across the cove. Two houses standing there over many years; generations of Nansellocks, generations of TreMellyns had lived here and their lives had intermingled so that it could well be that the story of one house was the story of the other.

I turned from the window and went through the schoolroom to Alvean’s room.

” Alvean,” I whispered. There was no answer. But she lay there in the bed, her eyes tightly shut, too tightly.

I bent over her.

“Good night, Alvean. We’re going to be friends, you know,” I murmured.

There was no answer. She was pretending to be asleep.

Exhausted as I was, my rest was broken that night. I would fall into sleep and then awake startled. I repeated this several times until I was fully awake.

I lay in bed and looked about my room in which the furniture showed up in intermittent moonlight like dim figures. I had a feeling that I was not alone; that there were whispering voices about me. I had an impression that there had been tragedy in this house which still hung over it.

I wondered if it was due to the death of Alvean’s mother. She had been dead only a year; I wondered in what circumstances she had died.

I thought of Alvean who showed a somewhat aggressive face to the world. There must be some reason for this. I was sure that no child would be eager to proclaim herself the enemy of strangers without some cause.

I determined to discover the reason for Alvean’s demeanour. I determined to make her a happy, normal child.

It was light before sleep came; the coming of day comforted me because I was afraid of the darkness in this house. It was childish, but it was true.

I had breakfast in the schoolroom with Alvean, who told me, with pride, that when her father was at home she had breakfast with him.

Later we settled to work, and I discovered that she was an intelligent child; she had read more than most children of her age and her eyes would light up with interest in her lessons almost in spite of her determination to preserve a lack of harmony between us. My spirits began to rise and I felt that I would in time make a success of this job.

Luncheon consisted of boiled fish and rice pudding, and afterwards when Alvean volunteered to take me for a walk, I felt I was getting on better with her.

There were woods on the estate, and she said she wished to show them to me. I was delighted that she should do so and gladly I followed her through the trees.

” Look,” she cried, picking a crimson flower and holding it out to me.

” Do you know what this is?”

z ” It’s betony, I believe.”

She nodded. ” You should pick some and keep it in your room, Miss. It keeps evil away.”

I laughed. ” That’s an old superstition. Why should I want to keep evil away?”

” Bverybody should. They grow this in graveyards. It’s because people are buried there. It’s grown there because people are afraid of the dead.”

” It’s foolish to be afraid. Dead people can hurt no one.”

She was placing the flower in the buttonhole of my coat. I was rather touched. Her face looked gentle as she fixed it and I had a notion that she felt a sudden protective feeling towards me.

” Thank you, Alvean,” I said gently.

She looked at me and all the softness vanished from her face. It was defiant and full of mischief.

” You can’t catch me,” she cried; and oS she ran.

I did not attempt to do so. I called: ” Alvean, come here.” But she disappeared through the trees and I heard her mocking laugher in the distance.

I dedded to return to the house, but the wood was thick, and I was not sure of my direction. I walked back a little way but it seemed to me that it was not the direction from which we had come. A panic seized me, but I told myself this was absurd. It was a sunny afternoon and I could not be half an hour’s walk from the house. Moreover, I did not believe that the wood could be very extensive.

I was not going to give Alvean the satisfaction of having brought me to the wood to lose me. So I walked purposefully through the trees;

but as I walked they grew thicker and I knew that we had not come this way. My anger against Alvean was rising when I heard the crackle of leaves as though I were being followed. I was sure the child was somewhere near, mocking me.

Then I heard singing; it was a strange voice, slightly off key, and the fact that the song was one of those which were being sung in drawing rooms all over the country did nothing to reassure me.

n “Alice, where art thou? One year back this even And thou wert by my side, Vowing to love me, Alice, what e’er may betide”

” Who is there?” I called.

There was no answer, but in the distance I caught a glimpse of a child with lint-white hair, and I knew that it was only little Gilly who had stared at me from the hydrangea bushes by the lodge gates.

I walked swiftly on and after a while the trees grew less dense and through them I saw the road. I came out into this and realised that I was on the slope which led up to the plateau and the lodge gates.

Mrs. Soady was sitting at the door of the lodge as she had been when I arrived, her knitting in her hands.

” Why, Miss,” she called. ” So you’ve been out walking then?”

” I went for a walk with Miss Alvean. We lost each other in the woods.”

” Ah yes. So her run away, did her.” Mrs. Soady shook her head, as she came to the gate trailing her ball of wool behind her.

” I expect she’ll find her way home,” I said.

” My dear life, yes. There ain’t an inch of them woods Miss Alvean don’t know. Oh, I see you’ve got yourself a piece of betony. Like as not ‘tis as well.”

” Miss Alvean picked it and insisted on putting it in my buttonhole.”

” There now! You be friends already.”

” I heard the little girl, Gilly, singing in the woods,” I said.

” I don’t doubtee. Her’s always singing in the woods.”

” I called to her but she didn’t come.”

” Timid as a doe, she be.”

” Well, I think I’ll be getting along. Goodbye, Mrs. Soady.”