The Gossamer Cord (40 page)

“Seems to have some sense in it,” she said, and it was characteristic of her that she should immediately think of that occasion when Tristan had been in danger from the open window.

“I never opened that window,” she declared. “I do know that. Someone must have. And he wasn’t in the habit of throwing his clothes off. And him with that cold on his chest…I could murder them as hurts little children.”

“We’ve got to make sure he is not left alone…night or day.”

She nodded. “And Miss Dorabella…?”

“Well, that is the part that doesn’t fit. We can’t think why anyone would want her out of the way.”

“And we know her. She might have got into her head that she wanted to swim, and if she did, there’d be no holding her back. ‘I want this and I’m going to have it.’ That was her all over. And Mr. Dermot himself…”

“That might have been either way. Oh, Nanny, don’t you see how careful we have to be! We must not take chances. There’s a lot against what we think may be, but because of Tristan we mustn’t dismiss anything.”

“I see that all right. No matter if we are barking up the wrong tree, we’ve got to make sure our boy is safe. I tell you what we’ll do…and this will be just between you and me. You know that divan thing…in the nursery? I’ll sleep on that. Nobody will know. Then I’ll be on the alert…day and night.”

“Nanny,” I said, “I shan’t sleep well in my bed. I’m going to take my turn of watching with you. I am going to sleep in the nursery with him.”

“There’s no need,” said Nanny Crabtree. “I shall be on the watch sleeping in the same room.”

“I shouldn’t rest in mine,” I said. “I’ll be wondering what’s happening all night.”

She looked at me and nodded slowly. “I know you,” she said. “Well, all right then. You shall sleep here on the divan and I’ll be in my room with the door open.”

I was already planning. “I shall come up quietly when the household has retired, and go back to my room before it starts stirring. It is very important that no one else should know of these arrangements…no one in the house.”

“I see that. We mustn’t give it away.”

“Tonight, then…”

“Tonight,” said Nanny Crabtree.

So that was how it was. I would lie on the divan, and in the starlight I could see the outline of the cot. I slept lightly. The slightest sound from Tristan’s cot awakened me and would set me listening.

Sometimes I thought: Can this really be true? Are we dramatizing the situation? Could Gordon possibly have murder in mind? He had been present when his mother had talked of the Pengelly baby. Had I imagined he seemed especially alert? I tried to remember what he had said. It was something the medical profession did not understand. The doctors were researching; they would discover the cause in time. But as yet the deaths were accepted as due to circumstances beyond their knowledge. How easy it would be to snuff out a young life!

My thoughts went back to that day when he had found me caught by the tide. He had gone to great efforts to save my life. But he did not want to be rid of me. I did not stand in his way.

It was hard to believe such a thing of someone one knew. But how well did I know him? He had always been something of an enigma and—I had often felt—a little sinister. Or was I imagining that now?

I had slept on the divan for two nights and this was the third.

There was no moon but the sky was cloudless and the stars bright.

I was looking out of the window at one which was particularly bright—a planet possibly. I remembered Dorabella’s saying to me on such a night: “That’s God’s eye watching us. He saw you take that cake when Cook wasn’t looking. You stuffed it into your pocket. He wrote it down in his little book and you’ll answer for it one day.” And I had retorted: “You ate most of it, so you’ll suffer more.” “It’s not eating it that counts, it’s stealing it,” was her reply.

Memories of Dorabella would go on like that for ever.

A stair creaked. I was alert. My heart was beating fast as I sat up in bed listening. There it was again. Stealthy steps coming toward the nursery!

I slipped out of bed and stood behind the door. I was there just in time before it was slowly, cautiously, opened.

I could not believe this was happening, although I had been waiting for it. It was like a performance which I had been rehearsing. I saw the pillow first…the whiteness was clear in the starlight.

Then, like a dream—a nightmare, really—I saw that what we had imagined would happen was taking place in actual fact.

A figure had moved toward the cot, bending over the sleeping child. I ran forward crying, “Nanny, Nanny! Quick…!”

The figure turned sharply. Not Gordon. Matilda!

Nanny Crabtree was there…a walking stick in her hand, ready to strike.

Matilda Lewyth turned to face us. Her eyes were wild with what seemed to me like madness.

“What…what do you think you are doing…?” she cried.

“What are
you
doing here?” said Nanny.

“Get out,” cried Matilda. “Get out…both of you.”

“It is you who will have to get out of my nursery,” said Nanny Crabtree sharply. “How dare you come in here and try to kill my baby?”

“What are you talking about?”

Matilda had dropped the pillow. She fell into a chair and covered her face with her hands.

“Nanny,” I said. “Go and wake Mr. Lewyth. I think he is the one who will know what is best to be done about this.”

“You watch then and give me that pillow.”

Matilda and I were alone and she lowered her hands and looked at me.

I said slowly: “You were going to kill him. You were going to kill Tristan. You thought it would be easy. You were going to pretend that what happened to Mrs. Pengelly’s baby happened to him.”

She did not answer.

“And the others…” I said. “Matilda, what does it mean?”

But I knew what it meant. Jowan’s discovery had made it clear. She wanted Tregarland’s for her son, hers and James Tregarland’s, and she had been ready to remove anyone who stood in his way. She, who had seemed so gentle, so self-effacing, so eager to please, was a murderess.

How thankful I should always be to Jowan. But for his warning Tristan would have died tonight.

I shall never forget Gordon’s coming into that room. He took one look at his mother. I knew that Nanny had told him what had happened. And what I saw in his face, although it was acute horror, was not surprise.

He was clearly deeply shocked. He went to her and put an arm round her.

“Mother,” he murmured. “Mother…oh, what have you done?”

She began to sob tempestuously. He comforted her and turned to us.

“I’ll take her to her room. I’ll give her something to make her sleep. She’ll go mad if I don’t. Oh, my God, this is terrible. Please, let me take her away. I’ll come back. There are things I can tell you. I want you please to try and understand.”

Nanny Crabtree said: “My baby could have been killed!”

Matilda was shaking. I thought she would have some sort of fit. She began to tear at her clothes and her hair in a frenzy of madness. She threw herself at Gordon.

“It was for you,” she said. “For you…my boy. It was your right…”

He tried to soothe her. I had never witnessed such a harrowing scene.

His arm around his mother, Gordon led her away.

Nanny and I went over to Tristan’s cot. He had slept through it all.

“You were right then,” said Nanny. “Thank God you were here. She’s mad, that woman. I know madness when I see it, and I’ve seen it tonight. Her of all people. You look shaken, dear. And no wonder. You did well. To think of what might have been. He’s shook up, too. Seemed to me as if he knew what she might be up to. Do you think we ought to wake someone else…in case he comes back and kills us?”

“There’s only Mr. James Tregarland. We don’t want any of the servants in this. He could have attacked us already if he were going to. As a matter of fact, I think he is a very worried man. I have misjudged him. She has been the one…and there
is
madness there…”

Nanny was looking down on Tristan.

“And the little mite slept through it all.”

It seemed a long time before Gordon joined us. He looked pale and anxious. Nanny Crabtree brought a chair for him. He sat down and looked from one to the other of us almost pleadingly.

I thought: He loves his mother and he is afraid for her.

“I must make you understand,” he said. “I must tell you everything from the beginning in the hope that you will. Of course, there is no excuse. She has attempted to do this terrible thing. For some time she has had one aim in life. She is determined to see me master of Tregarland’s. It has become an obsession with her.

“James Tregarland is my father. He and my mother met long ago. There has been a relationship of long standing. My mother came from a poor but respectable family. She worked in one of the hotels in Plymouth as a chambermaid. My father stayed there now and then and that was how they met. He was attracted by her. He was married, of course, and when my mother was about to have me her parents were deeply shocked. She had disgraced them and they disowned her. My father set her up in a house where I was born. He continued to visit her. I remember, the days when he came. He was interested in me. He used to watch me with an amused look in his eyes, as though he found our situation amusing.

“It was not amusing to my mother. She had been brought up very strictly and was always uneasy about the situation. When my father’s wife died, she thought he might marry her. He did not do so. But it was arranged that she and I should come to Tregarland’s. I know my mother thought this was a beginning, a step in the right direction, and that eventually she would be mistress of the house. Before she had died, my father’s wife had given birth to Dermot.

“I remember the day my mother told me we were going to live in the big house. There was some story about my mother’s being a distant connection of the Tregarland family, in reduced circumstances, which was said to be the reason why she came to keep house. She did this very successfully. But she wanted two things: marriage for herself…and the estate for me. That became the aim of her life. My father knew this. The idea amused him. He liked to keep her on tenterhooks. Would he? Wouldn’t he? He used to tease my mother. I think he may have hinted that I should have had the estate if there had been no legitimate heirs. Well, of course, there was Dermot. Who would have thought that would happen to him? He was young and strong. True, he was not very interested in the place, but it went well enough with my management.

“That was the role my father had decided for me. It irked my mother. I was her son…and my father’s eldest. I had brought prosperity to the estate. Dermot would never have been able to do that, yet it was to be his because I was not legitimate. He could have married her but he would not. I don’t know why he was adamant about that. He was fond of her. I think he liked to keep her guessing. He liked to see how she would act—how we all acted. He was very conscious, too, of the family honor. Perhaps he did not think it would be fitting to marry an ex-chambermaid.

“Please understand. She has lived with this for years. Her hopes would be allowed to rise…and then be dashed. As I said, it had become an obsession. Perhaps if she had talked of it more—not tried to hide it—it might have helped. But she kept it shut away within herself. I alone knew the depth of her feeling, her suppressed bitterness. She would talk vehemently about my rights, but only to me. I have for some time feared for her.”

“You did not think she would attempt…murder,” I said.

He hesitated. Then he said: “Lately…I feared.”

“What of the first Mrs. Tregarland?”

“I know nothing of that. She went for a swim which was foolish in her condition.”

“And Dermot?”

He hesitated again. “I…I did not speak to her of that. I think I preferred to assure myself that he died by his own hand. He was very depressed and guessed he would never be able to walk properly again. There seemed reason for him to take his life.”

“And now…?”

“There is only the child left now.

Nanny Crabtree listened without speaking.

“What will happen now?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” said Gordon helplessly. “We shall have to wait. I will call the doctor to her first thing in the morning.”

“You will have to tell him what happened?”

“Yes, I think he will have to be told everything.”

“What do you think will happen to her?”

“They give people some sort of treatment. There have been lots of advances in dealing with it. I think she desperately needs psychiatric treatment.”

“So we must wait until the morning. I am so sorry for you, Gordon.”

He smiled at me mournfully. “It had to come. I was not altogether unprepared. I knew she would have to go away sooner or later. After tonight, I feel she will have to have some sort of care.”

The clock in Nanny’s room chimed two.

Nanny Crabtree said: “I think we ought to try and get some sleep. Miss Violetta, you go to that divan, and as for you…” She looked at Gordon as though he were one of her children. “You should try and get some sleep, too. You’re going to have a lot to do tomorrow.”

He gave us both a pathetic smile, but there was a certain gratitude in it.

“I know,” he said, “that you will both do all you can to help.”

He left us then.

Nanny said: “Poor man. I liked him better tonight. He’s very fond of his mother, I will say that for him. A man who’s fond of his mother can’t be all that bad. Now, I think I’ll make us a nice cup of tea and then we’ll see if we can get a bit of sleep. I was right when I said there’d be a lot to do tomorrow…or today, rather.”

I sat there thoughtfully. There was no hurry. I knew neither of us would sleep.

We took one last look at Tristan. The teddy bear had slipped from his grasp, but he was smiling in his sleep.

The next two days were indeed chaotic. Two doctors came to see Matilda.

She had awakened on that first morning in a bemused state. Gordon was with her at the time. He had sat by her bedside all through the rest of the night, to be sure to be there when she awoke.