Garth of Tregillis (17 page)

I sprang to my feet and darted after her, but she was fleeter than I was and the knowledge that I was in pursuit seemed to lend wings to her heels. I was always a few steps behind her, vainly trying to catch hold of her flying skirt. It dawned on me that by now I was clearly in view and—too late—decided to give up the chase and return to my hiding-place in the gallery.

I drew to a halt as I saw Armanell’s eyes fixed on me curiously.

For the moment I had forgotten Melinda, but now I saw Armanell’s eyes widen as she saw the bright reds, blues and ochres that ornamented her face.

Then Melinda attempted to put into execution the curtsey she had been practising so assiduously during the previous days. But excitement was her undoing and the results were disastrous. She took a long step forward, bobbed down, wobbled and fell over, her face brushing against Armanell’s white frock. Armanell staggered and her wide-brimmed hat slid from her shining hair and fell to the floor. Her face was much more heavily made up than I had first realized. For a moment she was too outraged to speak as she surveyed her once pristine white dress, now liberally blotched with splotches of colour.

I hurried forward, caught Melinda by the hand and began to lead her away. ‘I didn’t really mean to spoil your beautiful dress,’ she was murmuring brokenly. It was clear that she was alarmed and shocked by the outcome of her attempts to ingratiate herself with the guest.

Then Armanell found her voice. She burst into Garth’s apologies in a torrent of French. ‘Where is the person who is supposed to be taking care of Emile? I thought you had hired an efficient governess, Garth. What is she doing to allow the children to run around wild in this manner? Look at what that horrible, horrible child has done to my dress!’

‘She’s not really horrible,’ Emile said with his painstaking fairness. ‘She only meant to curtsey to you.’

‘Send for the governess, Garth,’ Armanell ordered, ‘and tell her to take that child away and keep her out of my sight for the rest of my visit.’

‘I’m afraid the governess is already present,’ Garth said, his eyes travelling towards me, where I stood holding Melinda by the hand.

She had burst into sobs and her tears were washing down over her paint-streaked face adding to her dejected appearance.

‘What, the tall girl with the red hair?’ asked Armanell in surprise, as though I was not present.

‘Yes, I’m afraid she
is
only a girl,’ he agreed slowly. ‘Too young for the job—hardly more than a child herself!’

And it was with this estimate of me ringing in my ears that I eventually led Emile and Melinda upstairs again.

‘I’ll have Mrs. Kinnefer show you to your suite immediately.

I’m sure you’d like to change. I had hoped your reception would have been very different, but it appears I expected too much,’ Garth was saying grimly. As he spoke I could feel his granite-hard eye fixed on my retreating back.

SOMEHOW I had assumed that Garth and Armanell would dine alone, so that it came as a great surprise when Mrs. Kinnefer announced that I was to join them that evening at dinner.

My first instinct was firmly to refuse the invitation. Then I saw Mrs. Kinnefer’s look of astonishment as I paused. To her, of course, the invitation was more or less a command and my hesitation was completely inexplicable. In the end curiosity overcame my reservations and, when I had announced that I would accept, she departed, still looking slightly bewildered. It was evident she had expected me to be extremely gratified at the invitation. Instead I had shown an unbecoming and, to her, perplexing indecision before agreeing.

Tonight, I decided, I should no longer be the wild haired, coltish governess that Armanell had so obviously considered me. It was childish of me, I knew, but I was determined to make an impression.

I would wear one of the dresses I had bought when I had first learned that I was Diana’s heir—yards of floating rainbow silk organdie. It was a Jules Remy creation and hideously expensive, but had actually been purchased as a sort of anodyne. I had been hoping to assuage the sense of loss I had experienced when Diana had died, but of course it had not served its purpose. I had worn it only once and had then tucked it away, feeling slightly ashamed of such extravagance. But now I brought it down from the wardrobe with a sense of defiance. Tonight I would no longer be simply ‘the tall girl’. Somehow Armanell’s designation had rankled: it implied that I was raw-boned and awkward in comparison to her dainty porcelain-like beauty. But in this dress my tallness was a definite advantage.

I studied myself severely in the long mirror, grimly assessing my good points. I would wear my hair in a sophisticated loop at the nape of my neck, I decided, and with it I would wear my Victorian necklace and long ear-rings of turquoise and seed pearls. These at least I could call my own, as they had been my great-grandmother’s.

It was as I was studying myself in the mirror, more like a general going into battle than a governess invited to dinner, that I heard a knock at the door and Eunice’s untidy head appeared around the edge like a bedraggled chrysanthemum. She was more dishevelled than ever and two hectic spots of excitement burned on her cheekbones.

‘Hilda tells me you’ve been asked to join Garth and Armanell at dinner,’ she informed me when I asked her to come in.

She shut the door behind her conspiratorially as though suspecting eavesdroppers.

‘Well, all I can say is,’ she said sardonically, ‘that you can consider yourself honoured. I should have thought that Garth would have made sure of having Armanell to himself on her first night here.’

I laughed, ‘Then I should be flattered!’

‘Garth has never been the sort of man who considers social niceties. After all, why should he? Giles is dead and he is master of Tregillis. Why should he bother to observe any of the conventional decencies?’

I looked at her curiously. It was as though her words were designed to convey more than they actually said. ‘I don’t understand,’ I said slowly.

For a long moment she regarded me. ‘Has it not occurred to you that there was something singularly opportune about the fact that Giles died when he did? Armanell had become a widow and Tregillis was the type of home she would consider favourably. Yes, Giles’s death was singularly convenient—especially when he was no longer able to take care of himself!’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

She hesitated, then said, in a sort of rush, ‘Well, I suppose you’ll learn of it sooner or later. Someone’s bound to speak—Mrs.

Kinnefer, or the servants, or Paul Newsom, or his housekeeper, Verity Brett! Everyone knew about Giles, especially when it became obvious.’

I stared at her in bewilderment. ‘But what became obvious?’

‘Let’s face it,’ she said gruffly, ‘Giles began to drink heavily after Diana and her mother left him. It was as though he no longer had any purpose in life. He began to grow morose, suspicious, and the more he drank the worse he became. Sometimes there were the most dreadful scenes between himself and Paul. I often wondered how Paul stood it—hideous accusations, and wild denunciations. Of course he was ill—I know that now. It was he who had wanted Diana to go with her mother, but it was as though he were signing his own death-warrant. People who didn’t understand began to hate him. I know that. I suppose it was inevitable—he was so bitter and wild and unrestrained in his denunciations. But I understood, and I think he was grateful for that.’

I stared at her in surprise. This was such a different picture from that I had conjured up of Diana’s father—the gentle, scholarly, retiring man, whom she portrayed in her diaries and in her conversations with me.

‘You mean,’ I said at last, ‘that he became an alcoholic?’

She shrugged. ‘If you like to put it that way! But something horrible and sinister overcame Giles when Diana left. I think he realized that she would never come again to Tregillis and a bit of him died. After that he looked for nothing but oblivion.’

Yes, but it was not quite as simple as that, I realized. People must have hated Giles—this new, bitter, venomous Giles—before his death. Someone perhaps had planned his death. I remembered Verity’s words concerning Paul, that he had ‘let unpleasant bygones be bygones’. Yes, as Eunice had pointed out, Giles’s death had been singularly opportune for Garth. Armanell, whom he had once loved, was suddenly a widow. Giles’s death had followed at a fortunate moment from his point of view. I felt confused and disturbed when Eunice at last left me.

I dressed slowly, my mind a seething mass of speculation, and when at last I arrived at the small dining-room I felt a sort of icy detached calmness that served me well. Candlelight glimmered on the miniatures and gave a close intimacy that was belied by the cold assessing glance that Armanell cast on me when I appeared in the doorway. It was as though she were inaudibly restraining a gasp of surprise at my appearance. I was aware of Garth studying me, his dark eyes lit by a new awareness, although his manner still held his tight reserve. I was triumphantly conscious that tonight he no longer regarded me as Emile’s frumpish governess. Paul Newsom, however, made no secret of his feelings. His glance held open admiration and he hung on the smallest utterance I made as though it were the height of wit.

I knew, of course, that it was all part of his approach to women, but in spite of that, it was impossible not to be flattered by his attentions. In fact, I was much too euphoric in my triumph, unaware of how the wind was blowing as far as Armanell was concerned. It was only as the dinner was practically ending that I realized that she was observing me with narrow-eyed suspicion.

‘But your frock is simply beautiful,’ she cooed. ‘It’s a Jules Remy, isn’t it?’

In my confusion I nodded. ‘Yes,’ I agreed.

I saw her eyes open wide. ‘Indeed! Governesses have apparently very much changed their way of life since I was a girl. I know at least they didn’t purchase their dresses at Remy’s. My own governess used to wear the most dreary sagging cardigan suits.’

I felt dismayed. The eyes of everyone at the table were on me and I felt relief when Garth said abruptly, ‘What about a walk in the garden? I always think the roses are at their best at this time of the evening.’

Immediately Armanell dropped the subject of my dress and appeared all enthusiasm for his suggestion.

We were together as we went out into the grounds but gradually, as we strolled through the rose gardens we divided into two separate groups; Garth and Armanell walking ahead while Paul and I fell behind.

It was a glorious night, still and moonlit, and the garden seemed to be suffused with the heady scent of the roses.

My eyes were on Garth and Armanell strolling ahead—he looming even taller than usual against the petite size of Armanell.

Her arm was through his and her tiny, perfect face was tilted to listen to some remark of his. Her curious silvery, tinkling laughter came back to us and it was not for a moment that I realized the significance of what Paul was saying.

‘Am I too late?’ he was asking.

‘What?’ I dragged my attention away from the couple before us.

‘Too late? In what way?’ But I knew from his tone what he was trying to convey.

‘I mean are you strictly a bird of passage? Will you fly away again as soon as Emile’s accent is sufficiently tamed to enable him to attend an English school without suffering too much persecution?

Will you disappear back to where you came from—and to the man who is undoubtedly waiting impatiently for your return?’

‘There’s no one waiting for my return,’ I said lightly.

We had stopped by a fountain. The moon glittered on the water and a great clump of golden roses grew against the grey stone of the basin.

Immediately I regretted what I had said because he took it as encouragement and put his arms around me. ‘If there’s no one else in your life won’t you consider me? Oh, I can’t give you the sort of things that Garth gives Armanell, and you look so sophisticated and unattainable with your hair done up and in that beautiful frock.’

‘But I don’t want that sort of life,’ I put in.

He looked relieved. ‘In that case then, why hesitate? You and I are birds of a feather. We’re both in Garth’s employ. Why shouldn’t we join forces? You’re the only girl I could ever care for. I fell for you the first time I met you.’

Slowly but firmly I pulled away from him. ‘I know all about you,’ I said lightly. ‘You have a penchant for falling in love.’

‘Now whoever told you that?’

But I had no intention of betraying Verity and remained silent.

‘It’s a calumny and a lie,’ he said. ‘I must have an enemy at court. Goodness knows, it would be impossible to fall in love with the frumps who’ve come to Tregillis. Although, in some ways, Melinda was a blessing. She got rid of them—gave them short shrift.’

‘But they can’t all have been frumps,’ I pointed out teasingly.

But he was not to be diverted. ‘They most certainly were,’ he insisted solemnly. ‘Without exception, hideous—but I see you don’t believe me.’

‘No, I don’t,’ I laughed.

‘Look, Judith,’ he said seriously. ‘I’m not such a Casanova as you so obviously consider me. I haven’t a lot of money and I can’t take you wining and dining at expensive places as Garth takes Armanell. All I can offer you are simple pleasures. You see, I don’t come from Garth’s background: I lived in the village and went to school with Verity.’