Darkwood (3 page)

3

‘Miss Harvey,’ the vicar’s questioning voice drifted across to me and I turned back to face him.

‘Apologies, Vicar, you must think me most rude.’ As I spoke I noted that Isabel still hadn’t uttered a word. Her pale face showed no expression and she seemed not to notice her surroundings, the yellow dress she wore was garish and did not compliment her pallid colour or her mousy coloured hair.

‘On the contrary, Miss Harvey, I can understand you being distracted by your betrothed, especially as he is talking to such a lovely young woman.’ His eyes twinkled as he spoke, and while the vicar found this entertaining, I most certainly did not. At this moment Jared offered me a glass of sherry which I took willingly, I would like to have drunk it in one go, but sipped it as decorously as I could.

Looking at Jared, the thought crossed my mind that he would be a far more attentive bridegroom, for Gareth had not even noticed my existence in the room, something I intended to rectify this instant. Swiftly I walked across to him and his beautiful companion.

‘Are you going to introduce me to this lovely lady, cousin Gareth, or are you too enamoured to tear yourself away?’ My voice trembled as I spoke.

After speaking the words I wished I could have retracted them and I knew that Mother would be furious at my manner. Gareth turned to look at me, an unfathomable expression on his handsome face. I noticed how his black jacket and waistcoat showed off the snow white of his ruffled shirt.

‘Cousin Silvia, please let me introduce you to a family friend, Miss Estelle Benedict.’ So saying, Gareth clicked his heels together and without so much as an, ‘excuse me’, left me with this lovely creature whose name matched her beauty, and for an instant I thought of the novel, Great Expectations, and idly wondered would Miss Benedict break Gareth’s heart or mine.

‘Delighted to meet you at last Miss Harvey.’ Estelle’s voice was as melodic as her laugh. As she spoke she offered a hand which was limp in my grasp. The smile on her face didn’t meet her eyes and knew instinctively that she hated me as much as I hated her. Thankfully we were not destined to engage in conversation that evening.

Mrs Trigg arrested our attention by informing us that dinner was ready. She was still a tall thin woman, her greying hair scraped severely back off her face which served to accentuate her large nose. As children we’d laughed about this and my mind flew back to Gareth.

As I looked around I caught sight of him with Aunt Rachel heading for the dining-room. Did he really not care about my existence, for surely, as his betrothed he should have escorted me into dinner. I felt a sense of total frustration at his complete indifference.

As it happened I walked into the dining-room with a silent Isabel, for her brother had escorted the lovely Estelle.

As we entered the dining-room, I noticed straight away the walls were blue as in the drawing-room, although the long dining table was beautifully laid with a white damask tablecloth, silver and crystal goblets, the room felt cold and I shivered involuntarily.

‘Silvia, Gareth, please sit at this end of the table.’ Uncle William indicated the two seats by him as he was obviously to sit at the head. Aunt Rachel sat next to Gareth and Jared took his seat by me. I found this difficult looking across at my future husband and feeling Jared’s nearness throughout the meal. Surprisingly it was Gareth who first mentioned our wedding date.

‘When would you like us to marry, cousin?’ His words drifted across the table and I realised with some hesitation that Gareth had addressed me.

‘I have no thoughts on this.’ I replied quietly. ‘Sometime next year would suit me, and yourself perhaps?’ I asked sweetly.

His reply was unexpected. ‘Indeed not, cousin, I had thought of Easter this year.’ As he spoke he raised one dark eyebrow.

‘But that is only four weeks away!’ The alarm in my voice must have shown.

‘The sooner the better, cousin. I shall be more than pleased when the deed is done and we can all get on with our lives. Do you agree, Mother?’ he turned to Aunt Rachel.

‘Why yes, an Easter wedding sounds delightful.’ She agreed.

‘Indeed it will be.’ My mother, who sat next to her sister, responded, Not much time to prepare I will admit, but a lovely time of year none-the-less, and I can return to Exeter sooner rather than later.’

I looked at the three of them striving to think of some complication. I then realised that Estelle was in deep conversation, the Reverend Poulter quite oblivious to the discussion at this end of the table. While Isabel sat morosely next to the lovely creature, like a moth next to a colourful butterfly.

Then the thought came to me in a flash, ‘But I have no wedding gown,’ I said in triumph, looking at them all in eager anticipation. But Mother’s words dampened my spirits further.

‘No dear, but I’m sure that will be no problem, you have your veil ordered from Honiton, and your head-dress and shoes being made in France, we will just have to inform them that we require an immediate delivery.’

Mother sat back in her chair, white napkin tucked in the neck of her dress, she was obviously tired and well fed.

Aunt Rachel turned her attention to me, ‘We have a very good dressmaker in Tavistock, Silvia, who we will visit tomorrow after lunch. There, does that make you feel more at ease, child?’

‘Enough of bridal dresses and flowers, there will be time enough to watch my wife sewing in the evenings, let alone talk of it before the marriage.’ Gareth spoke firmly and then applied his concentration to the cheese on his plate.

‘But Silvia hates sewing or embroidery.’ My mother’s voice boomed out, causing everyone to look, ‘She has more love for her novels and poetry than in normal women’s pastimes.’

At this Gareth raised his eyes and looked at me, ‘Who is your favourite poet, cousin?’ he asked with obvious interest.

‘Our Poet Laureate, Alfred Lord Tennyson, our Queen’s favourite also.’ I replied almost shyly.

Gareth’s next words stunned me somewhat. ‘The Knights come riding two and two, she hath no loyal Knight and true.’

As he uttered the words, Gareth’s dark eyes locked with my violet ones, it was for only a matter of seconds, but in that short space of time I both admired the fact that he quoted from Tennyson’s Lady Of Shalott, and realised at the same time he was conveying to me the message, ‘you have no Knight in me.’

He wiped his beautifully-shaped mouth with his napkin which he then placed on the table. ‘So we are agreed, cousin. Easter Saturday, the fifteenth of April it shall be, if this is suitable for you, Reverend?’

‘It is indeed, I will call the banns for the next three Sundays. I would like to think you will both attend church.’ Reverend Poulter looked at us both.

It was the point that I realised that from now on we would be looked upon as a couple. My heart started racing and I felt my cheeks going hot at the thought, that in four weeks’ time I would be sharing my life with a stranger. The men all stood as we ladies retired to the drawing-room, leaving them to their port and masculine conversation.

In the hall, Mother excused herself and said that she was weary and needed to get to bed, or she wouldn’t enjoy our outing to Tavistock on the morrow.

The word, outing, was a most unfortunate term as I looked on it as a chore. We all bade her goodnight and made our way to the drawing-room. Much was said about my forthcoming wedding.

‘Have you a bridesmaid, Silvia? For if not, I would be pleased to oblige,’ said Estelle at one point in the conversation.

‘Thank you for the kind thought, Estelle, but my friend, Grace, is to join us in a week. She will be my bridesmaid.’ I replied with little charity.

My aunt sat opposite me by the fire. ‘Why have the rooms been decorated in blue Aunt Rachel?’ I had to ask.

Did I detect a slight hesitation as she responded, ‘Your grandfather wished them to be this colour after...’ And her voice trailed away.

‘Also,’ I interposed. ‘Where has Lizzie’s portrait gone which hung at the top of the stairs when I was a child?’

‘I really don’t know, but you could try the attic when you have a spare couple of hours,’ Aunt Rachel offered. And I immediately resolved to visit the attic in the morning, for Grandmother’s portrait was more important to me than a wedding gown.

I was tired. The many events of the day were overwhelming, not least my encounters with Gareth Hunter, but I didn’t want to think of him. I excused myself and left the drawing-room.

As I put one foot on the bottom stair of the staircase, my skirt held up at the front with one hand I was stopped by a voice behind me.

‘Cousin Silvia,’ I turned back to see Jared leaning against the dining-room door a goblet of port in one hand. As I looked he raised the glass and quietly said, ‘To you, cousin.’

‘Goodnight, Jared, I am weary and in no mood to play games,’ I said dismissively and turned back to climb the staircase. I was half way up when he gently caught my arm.

‘Favour me cousin, for you won’t regret it I promise you.’ Jared spoke quietly and with some urgency.

‘Jared, we cannot talk like this on the staircase, for one thing it is dangerous,’ I replied firmly. ‘And for another, you must be aware, it is improper given my situation with your brother.’

‘Then move up the stairs to the corridor, for I wish to speak with you alone,’ he implored.

I did as Jared asked, for nothing could be gained by lingering halfway up the staircase, if for no other reason than that we could be seen. We stepped into the corridor leading to my room when Jared turned me to him.

‘You must realise that Gareth will lead you a merry dance. He’s only marrying you so he can get his hands on his beloved Darkwood, whereas I hate the very name of this house, and could take you away and give you more attention than my brother ever will.’ He paused, ‘Please at least say that you will mull it over,’ he implored again.

Pulling my arm away from his grasp I realised I felt intimidated and unsure as to how to handle this unexpected situation. I knew that to humour him was the only way of dealing with him, for the moment at least.

‘I will agree to think about it, Jared, but now I wish to get to my room. Sleep is what is needed for I cannot think straight without it.’

My words seemed to please him for he made to descend the stairs, stopping briefly to say, ‘You must know that Gareth only has eyes for Estelle Benedict.’

I stood there for some seconds and then I heard him bid Gareth goodnight. I quickly realised the two brothers must have passed on the staircase and with some sense of alarm as Gareth appeared, I wondered if he had heard any of our conversation.

My betrothed looked at me, bid me goodnight, then strode in the opposite direction.

Entering my bedroom, I leaned back against the door, relieved that I was back in Lizzie’s room. In the hearth, embers of the fire still glowed brightly and I sank into my grandmother’s armchair, a hundred thoughts whirling in my head.

Why had Jared made this declaration and if I accepted, where would he take me? As far as I was aware he had no means of supporting me. I was sorely tempted, but that thought led me to Gareth, could I in time get to know this stranger, and even given time, love him?

Yes I thought, I will accept the challenge, and made a mental note not to find myself alone with cousin Jared, but this I was to learn, was going to be easier said than done.

The door opening startled me, but it was only Pru. ‘Come to help you prepare for bed, Miss Silvia. You look done in and that’s a fact. A good night’s sleep will refresh you so you will be ready to see everything in a new light tomorrow.’ Pru chatted on hardly aware that I was quiet and unresponsive.

I climbed into Lizzie’s bed, the feather mattress curling around my weary body, I snuggled into the pillows and thought about Grandmother. It was all very strange, no headstone in the graveyard and her portrait removed, for what reason I had yet to find out, but had every intention of scouring the attic in the morning. My last thought as I snuggled under the covers and drifted into sleep was what did cousin Gareth think of me, did I care? And the answer was, yes.

4

The following morning, attired in my powder blue day dress, I sat at the dining table alone. It would appear no-one else ate breakfast and I half expected Jared to appear, but prayed not. This was the day I would explore the attic before our trip to the dressmakers.

Making my way across the hall to find Mrs Trigg to ask if I needed a key to the attic door, I encountered Aunt Rachel.

‘Ah Silvia, I was looking for you. Did you sleep well?’ Aunt Rachel put a hand over mine as she spoke. Not waiting for an answer she continued, ‘There is a change of plan, we are to visit the dressmaker this morning.’

‘I was just about to explore the attic,’ I said with some sense of disappointment.

‘Never mind dear, you can do that on our return. Gareth has to go to Tavistock for some painting oils, so we may as well all go together. Your mother is getting herself ready as we speak, we’ll meet in the hall at nine-fifteen.’ With these words Aunt Rachel left me to make her way up the stairs, so I thought I’d best do the same.

To think I would be in close proximity to Gareth in the coach caused me some concern. On the other hand maybe it was a chance to draw him closer to me and vanquish the lovely Estelle from his mind.

All duly attired and settled in the coach, we made our way slowly across the moor. The wind had ceased today and the sun shone brightly on the windows of the coach. I felt stifled by the green cloak I wore and untied the ribbon around my neck, almost dislodging my bonnet.

Mother was snoozing in one corner, Aunt Rachel was looking out at the moor in all its glory, greens, browns and yellows were dappled by the sunlight and fluffy white clouds, the whole landscape seemed to stretch into infinity impeded only by intermittent slabs of granite, and I was watching Gareth who sat opposite me.

‘What are your thoughts, cousin Gareth?’ I bent towards him as I spoke. He looked at me for some moments before replying.

‘I am thinking the pale green becomes you and that your bonnet is very pretty.’ This was a compliment indeed and I felt my cheeks going hot praying Gareth did not notice my confusion at his words. It was my favourite bonnet, the edge trimmed with pink lace, and the bonnet itself adorned with small pink rosebuds.

I noticed Aunt Rachel glance at us before turning back to the window, a gentle smile on her face, she was obviously pleased at the way the conversation was going.

‘Why thank you, cousin,’ I responded quietly. ‘I understand that not only do you recite poetry, but you paint as well.’

‘I only dabble in it from time to time, but it is relaxing and enjoyable, I have a small studio at the top of the house next to the attic.’ My thought was that my betrothed was very talkative and forthcoming today, could it be because of the absence of Miss Benedict? He continued, ‘Our grandmother painted, did you know she came from Ireland?’

‘No I did not, but she had no accent so I had not realised,’ I replied with some interest. ‘Where did she come from?’

‘Killarney in Southern Ireland, it is said that Grandfather fell in love as soon as he set eyes on her, and I suspect she lost her Irish brogue while living so long at Darkwood.’

Having spoken, Gareth looked out of the window, ‘We are here,’ he said, and as I looked I could see that we were in a small market town with sand-coloured buildings. Everywhere was a hive of activity, people selling their wares and children chasing hoops along the thoroughfare.

The carriage jolted to a halt outside a very imposing double-fronted building with a large bell under the roof. I guessed we were at the dressmaker’s and felt quite cheated that the interlude with Gareth had ended so abruptly, but also felt that we had built part of the rapport so needed between us.

Mother opened her eyes, obviously woken by the stopping of the carriage, she looked at Aunt Rachel, a bemused expression on her face.

‘We’re surely not here already, I’d only just nodded off. No matter, let us hope we achieve what we’ve come for.’ As Mother spoke she wriggled to the edge of her seat and Aunt Rachel helped her to her feet, her mauve dress getting caught under one shoe.

Gareth opened the door and jumped down nimbly offering his hand to help me alight. It was the first time I’d had physical contact with him and was somewhat surprised to find the touch of his hand grasping mine was a pleasant experience.

He helped Mother and Aunt Rachel out also saying, ‘This is where I leave you ladies, I will return for you in two hours.’

The three of us stood at the door awaiting an answer to the bell we’d just rung. I was interested in the highly-polished brass plaque to the left of the door inscribed with the words, Caroline Peacock, Dressmaker.

After greeting us, we were led into a room on the right by Caroline herself. She was slightly overweight with a rounded figure encased in a ruby coloured dress which suited her blonde wavy hair and rosy cheeks perfectly. As we stepped into the room we were confronted by bales of material in every hue and colour.

‘This is all I have in silk, but I’m sure Miss Harvey, that you will find something here to your liking,’ Caroline addressed me as she spoke, for my mother and aunt walked in and out of the tables looking at various materials. I was drawn to a dove grey silk and as I smoothed my hand across it Mother’s voice came to me.

‘Not grey, Silvia, please,’ she admonished. ‘Here is an ivory silk taffeta far more appropriate.’ I walked over to where Mother had indicated.

‘But grey matches my mood, Mother.’ As I spoke the words, I realised they weren’t strictly true now, for part of me was looking forward to a match with Gareth and I decided at that moment to enjoy the preparation for my inevitable union. ‘This is indeed quite lovely and will match my lace veil well,’ I said, quite astounding Mother as she had, I think, been prepared for a battle.

‘You’ve chosen well, Miss Harvey, and may I suggest that as your veil is lace, your dress should be plain,’ Caroline asked me tentatively.

‘I do agree, and what style do you recommend?’ I asked with some enthusiasm, for if this marriage were to take place, which indeed it would, I wished to look at my most captivating for my bridegroom.

‘I think perhaps a long-sleeved neat bodice, separate from the skirt, which should be full at the back to suit your slim figure and height.’ As she spoke Caroline was looking me up and down.

‘I will bow to your knowledge, Miss Peacock. I am confident you will make me a wedding dress that I will adore.’ As I spoke I looked at Mother and could see unshed tears in her eyes. She was very emotional about the whole situation, which I found quite endearing.

Caroline asked us to return in a fortnight for a fitting. As we stepped outside the carriage was waiting as Gareth had promised. We were all silent on our way back to Darkwood, each with our own thoughts, Mother and Aunt Rachel no doubt like me thinking of the forthcoming wedding, even more so as I surveyed Gareth’s handsome face, the expression of which was inscrutable and I wondered to myself just what he was thinking.

We arrived back at Darkwood in time for a light lunch. Much to my disappointment, Gareth declined to join us, and after eating I sped upstairs to change. My visit to the attic and Lizzie’s portrait being uppermost in my mind.

Aunt Rachel had pointed me in the right direction and there was indeed a key which she had handed to me with the words, ‘Don’t fall over anything.’

I had to turn left at the top of the stairs, along the corridor Gareth had walked the evening before, and as I passed each door I was left wondering which room was his, but resisted the strong temptation to step through each door with the hope of finding out.

Sure enough, as Aunt Rachel had directed, at the end of the corridor to the right was a narrow plain wooden staircase. I walked up it slowly, lifting my skirts as I went. As I rounded the corner at the top I was confronted by a low door and I inserted the key, and with some anticipation then turned the brass knob.

Lowering my head, I stepped into the attic which was huge, far larger than I expected, and realised it must run the good length of the house. Looking up I saw the massive oak beams which held the roof in place and my dilemma was where to start.

There were pieces of old furniture, long forgotten chests and pieces of porcelain. I moved across to one table on which stood quite a few pieces of china and picked up a small figurine of a lady dressed in a rose-coloured pink dress with a yellow rose on her shoulder and one in her hair. I recognised this as a piece my grandmother had always kept in the bedroom on the mantelpiece. I placed it back on the table intending to take it with me on my way out.

A thought struck me as I walked slowly across the bare floorboards looking at the various chests. Would I find Lizzie’s clothes? The thought spurred me on and I slowly lifted the lid of each chest to no avail.

They contained mainly men’s and children’s clothing. Frustration was creeping upon me as I neared the end of the attic finding I had to stoop as the roof was much lower here. Cobwebs impeded my path and tangled them-selves in my hair, but I pressed on as I’d spied a chest in the corner.

On reaching it, I first had to wipe the dust off with the palm of my hand, as I tried to lift the lid it would not move, but to my delight could see that the key was in the rusty lock. I turned it with some excitement and the lid lifted easily, swinging back on its hinges. I looked at the contents with tears springing to my eyes, for it was indeed Lizzie’s clothing.

On top lay a green fur-trimmed hood and cloak, not dissimilar to the green I had worn today. Lovingly I picked it from the chest, holding it in my hands and laying the material against my cheek, Lizzie’s perfume still lingered faintly and I took it in breathing deeply.

‘Oh, Grandmother,’ I whispered aloud, ‘How I wish you were here, what’s happened to you?’ I waited almost expecting a reply, but the attic was silent except for the slight creaking of the floorboards under my feet. Almost reverently I laid the cloak back in the chest, I couldn’t bear to see anything else today. Slowly I lowered the lid and turned the key in the lock slipping the key in the side pocket of my dress, not wanting anyone but me to look through Lizzie’s things. But by the looks of the cobwebs at this end of the attic no-one had been here for many years.

Stooping even lower, I headed towards a small window at the end for I’d seen the back of a large picture leaning against the wall. On reaching it I pushed the cobwebs away with my hands and tried to lift it to turn it around, nearly dropping it because of its weight.

Full of determination, I placed my hands halfway down each side of the frame and heaving it up and around with a strength I didn’t know I had, then placed it with some effort back on the floor. It was my grandmother’s portrait, for I recognised the cornflower blue dress and the coal black hair, but to my dismay as I stood looking down at it I could see someone had fiercely slashed at her face with some sharp instrument. As I stood there because of my distress tears streaming down my cheeks, I wondered which malicious person had done this to my beloved Lizzie.