The Gossamer Cord (18 page)

“Well…”

He laughed. “And how is she?”

“A little tired, I think. My mother will be there if she wants company.”

“That is nice. Now, away to the moors and the Horned Stag.”

“It sounds rather ferocious.”

“Wait till you see the creaking sign over the door—a venomous beast—enough to drive customers away rather than entice them in. But it is a cosy spot and there isn’t another inn for some miles.”

I was fascinated by the moor. There was something rather eerie about it. I could see no sign of human habitation. Here and there great boulders stood out among the grass and away in the distance was a ring of stones which looked like figures.

“The moor!” announced Jowan. “What do you think of it?”

“Strange. Uncanny in a way.”

“You’re not the first to think of that.”

“Those stones…one could think they were people.”

He brought his horse close to mine.

“At certain times of the year,” he said in a tone of mock awe, “they say they come to life, and woe betide anyone who sets eyes on them.”

“What?” I cried.

He laughed. “You look scared. Don’t worry. They won’t come alive for you. They did once—so they tell me—for poor old Samuel Starky. That was fifty years ago. Poor Samuel, he came into the Horned Stag crying, ‘They’m all alive. The Stones have come to life! Death and destruction is to come to Bandermoor!’ That’s the name of the little village which I’ll show you later. ’Twill be destroyed this night.’ You see, the grocer’s wife had run off with the postman, and the grocer had taken a woman into his house. Sodom and Gomorrah had come to Bandermoor, and the Stones had come to life to wreak vengeance.”

“And what happened to Bandermoor?”

“Oh, it went on in its peaceful way and the Stones remained. Oddly enough, people still think there is something supernatural about them. Well, this is the Horned Stag. Take note of the animal. Isn’t he fearsome?”

“I think it is because the paint round his eyes has become a little blurred.”

“What a practical young lady you are! Practical and punctual. I like it. Come along.”

We first took our horses to the stables and then went in. The inn parlor was almost a replica of that of the Smithy. Tankards of cider were brought to us.

“I believe you are getting quite a taste for the stuff,” he said.

“It’s certainly very pleasant.”

“Tell me,” he said, “when shall you be leaving us?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

He grimaced. “So soon? But you will be here again?”

“I should think so.”

“Your sister is quite well?”

“I think everything is going according to plan.”

On a sudden impulse I told him I had met Mrs. Pardell.

He was surprised.

“Really? She has not a reputation for making friends easily.”

“I would not aspire to friendship.”

I told him about the cutting.

He was amused. “What a devious plan!” he said. “I can see you are a mistress of diplomacy. Why were you so eager to meet her?”

“I have to admit that I am by nature curious.”

“Curious, practical, and punctual,” he murmured. “The last two are virtues. I am not sure about the first. Why were you so curious to meet the lady from the North?”

“Naturally because of her daughter. I was taken aback when my sister told me there had been a previous marriage, but I did not know who the first wife was until you told me.”

“And then you wanted to know more about her?”

“It was a natural feeling, wasn’t it?”

“Indeed, yes. I daresay your sister would want to know.”

“I don’t think she cares very much. She never liked anything that might be…uncomfortable. She likes everything to go smoothly, and if they don’t, push them out of the way where they can be forgotten.”

“But you are not like that?”

“No. I want to know everything, no matter what it is.”

“I understand perfectly. But what did you think you would get from the lady?”

“I thought I might hear something about the girl…Annette. What she was like, how it all happened.”

“I doubt you got much from Mrs. Pardell.”

“Nothing at all.”

“Too bad after such a clever plot with the plant. But congratulations on a piece of imaginative strategy. Pity it was wasted.”

“Not entirely. I am to go again next visit to see whether the thing has flourished.”

“Clever! I’m overcome with admiration. What profit do you hope to get from all this?”

“The more you know of people, the more you understand them.”

“Are you anxious about your sister?” he asked searchingly.

I hesitated. Was I? I had always been a sort of watchdog for us both. I remembered our first day at school—her hand tightly clasping mine, myself trying not to show her the trepidation I felt; seated together at the little desk. Dorabella close to me, reassured because I was there, the strong one; and she did not know that I was only pretending, as much for her sake as my own.

I was certainly uneasy about her. I could not rid myself of the feeling that there was something not quite right at Tregarland’s. It was a strange notion, but there seemed to be something slightly unreal about the people there.

I could not explain this to Jowan Jermyn. I had been too frank already. What had possessed me to tell him of my little subterfuge in getting a footing into Cliff Cottage by means of the cutting?

The fact was that I felt at ease with him. I laughed at his way of taking everything lightly and finding it amusing. I realized that what I felt about the Tregarland household was all speculation. They had all been kind to us and very welcoming to Dorabella. My mother seemed satisfied. I was inclined to let my imagination run on, to conjure up drama where it did not exist.

He was watching me intently and asked if I were worried about my sister.

“Well,” I said. “It has all happened rather quickly. This time last year we did not know of the Tregarlands’ existence…and then to find one’s sister married and about to have a baby in a place quite a few miles from home.”

“I understand. You feel there is much to know and your sister’s husband’s first wife is part of it.”

“Yes, I suppose that is what I feel.”

“It’s just a straightforward story. The heir of Tregarland married the barmaid; she was about to have a child, and there was a tragedy. That’s all.”

“Do you mean that he married her because she was going to have a child?”

“I believe that was so. It was the verdict of the news agency, at least.”

“I see. As you say, it is not an unusual story.”

“The family wouldn’t have been very pleased, of course.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But these things happen in the best regulated families. It is all in the past. I gather they are delighted with this marriage.”

“Have your sources told you this?”

“Certainly. And they are rarely mistaken.”

He started to tell me of some of the legends of the place; of the celebrations on the moor on Midsummer’s Eve; the bonfires hailing the dawn; Hallow E’en when the witches thrived.

“And Cornish witches into the bargain are far more malevolent than other people’s witches.”

He also told me of the Furry Dance which heralded in the spring, when people danced through the streets of the towns.

I was absorbed and disappointed when it was time to go.

“You’ll be back,” were his parting words, when we said goodbye at the boundary. “I shall hear, of course, when you return, and we shall meet in the field, the scene of our first encounter. Is that a promise?”

“It is,” I said.

And I intended to keep it.

T
WO DAYS LATER, MY
mother and I traveled back home. My mother sat back in the carriage with a look of satisfaction on her face.

“Everything seems to be going well,” she said. “I can’t wait till November. If only we could get Nanny Crabtree there I think everything could be just perfect. Dermot is such a nice young man. I liked him more and more.” She frowned. “Gordon is somewhat…”

I waited while she paused, searching for the word she needed to describe him.

“Overpowering,” she said at length. “Although he says very little, he does behave as though
he
is the son of the house. Well, I suppose we shall be going down again soon. I think Dorabella would have liked you to stay.”

“Well, I daresay I shall be making the journey back there very soon,” I said.

When I was back at Caddington I saw things differently. My mother was right. Everything was going well.

I thought often of Jowan Jermyn. It would be amusing to see him again. I rather liked the fact that we had to meet…well, not exactly secretly…but to take certain precautions not to be seen too frequently at the same place.

I wondered if Mrs. Brodie had reported that we had called in twice at Smithy’s. It was very probable. It had been tactful of him to suggest the meeting at the Horned Stag.

My father was delighted to see us. He said that he wished Dorabella could come home for a while.

My mother said: “She is at her own home now, and you could hardly expect her to leave her husband. And her husband has an estate to look after.”

“Gordon does that very well,” replied my father. “I don’t think Dermot would be missed all that much.”

It was as near as he could get to a criticism and very unusual with him. It showed how much he wanted to see his daughter.

I missed her, too, but I was sure it would not be long before I went to Cornwall again. I wanted to be with her. Moreover, it was exciting, and a little mysterious in a way, which appealed to my penchant for intrigue. I could not rid myself of the idea that there was something strange about the household, and I felt it would be very interesting to discover what it was. And then, of course, there would be meetings with Jowan Jermyn.

My mother was overjoyed to hear from Nanny Crabtree. She would be free at the beginning of September and would take a short holiday to stay with her cousin in Northamptonshire. She would be ready to go to Cornwall at the beginning of October which would give her a few weeks to settle in before the baby arrived.

We heard from Edward that he and Gretchen would like to come and see us and perhaps stay a couple of weeks. They had a friend who would like to see Cornwall. Should we mind very much if they brought him with them?

“I am sure you will like Richard,” he said. “He is a lawyer and has been a great help to me.”

My mother was always delighted to see Edward and wrote back enthusiastically of her pleasure at the proposed visit.

Edward was now attached to a law firm in London. He and Gretchen were living in the Greenham family house in Westminster at the time but were looking for a house of their own. Edward wrote to my mother regularly so that she could keep in touch with everything he was doing. Although she was only about fifteen years older than he was, he looked upon her as a mother, which was not really surprising, as she was the one who had brought him out of Belgium when the Germans had been invading that country.

They arrived in the early afternoon. Gretchen looked very happy; so did Edward. We were introduced to the friend, Richard Dorrington, a tall, pleasant-looking young man who thanked my mother profusely for asking him.

I could see immediately that she liked him. She told him that Edward’s friends were always welcome.

It was an interesting visit. My father quite obviously liked Richard Dorrington, too—but then he liked most people—yet I did sense a rather special feeling for this young man.

Edward said he was going to show Richard some of the local sights, for Richard, who had lived most of his life in London, did not know this part of the country at all.

Over the first meal Edward talked about the places he had in mind.

“You’d like to see some of these spots again, wouldn’t you, Violetta?” said my mother.

I agreed that I would.

“Robert will be very cross when he hears you’ve been here,” said my mother to Richard. “Robert is my young son. He’s always annoyed because he is at school when we have visitors here. Well, the four of you must go together. You must take Richard to that old Chidam place for lunch. It is really rather fun. Ye Olde Reste House, pretending to date back to the days of Henry VIII when it was actually built about ten years ago. Ye olde Tudor beams—put in all of ten years ago! I expect they have a ghost. Anne Boleyn will appear one day.”

“I don’t think she ever went near the place,” said Edward.

“That’s of no account. They’ll find a way of fitting her in with ye olde Tudor beams. It is really quite amusing with the waitresses in Tudor costumes, complete with lipstick and permanently waved hair.”

“It sounds amusing,” said Richard.

“It is…just for once. You will take him, Edward?”

Then we talked about Edward’s househunting in London.

“I’d like to be near Chambers,” said Edward.

“Richard has a fine place in Kensington,” added Gretchen.

“I think,” said Edward smiling at her, “we shall have to go for something less grand.”

“Our place has been in the family for some years,” said Richard. “My grandfather bought it. Then it went to my father and now to me.”

“In a quiet square,” added Gretchen.

“One of those big family houses, built round a garden square for exclusive use of the residents who surround it,” explained Edward.

“There are some lovely houses in those squares,” said my mother.

“You need a family to fill them,” put in Gretchen.

“I have my widowed mother and sister Mary Grace living with me,” said Richard. “It has always been home to us.”

“Then you have old Mrs. what’s-her-name to keep everything in order,” said Edward.

“That’s the housekeeper,” Richard explained to us. “Yes, she is one of the old faithful kind. She makes everything run smoothly.”

“I know the type,” said my mother.

My father liked to hear what people thought of the political situation. He always felt that people from London would know more of what was going on than we did in the country.

“What do you think of the new Prime Minister?” asked Richard Dorrington.