Garth of Tregillis (3 page)

I would answer the advertisement, I decided, but of course revealing nothing of my friendship with Diana. I would be able to go to Cornwall if I were accepted—and somehow I felt certain I would be—as if I were a complete stranger. I had no idea how I’d be treated by the master of Tregillis. Would I be confined to my room for meals, like a Victorian governess, or accepted as one of the family? I glanced in the mirror. Anyway, I must subdue that mop of reddish curls and if not exactly wear a grey worsted gown, at least turn up in something simple so that I should look efficient.

To learn as much as I wanted to about Garth Seaton I must merge with the background, make myself as unobtrusive as possible and keep my ears open. Only by doing that should I have a chance of laying the restless spirit of Diana Seaton.

Looking back, it seems strange and illogical how convinced I was that I’d obtain the position. Somehow, from the moment I chanced on the newspaper cutting, I felt that it was fated I should go to Tregillis, so that when I had dispatched my application I waited with a sort of quiet confidence for the reply. I hadn’t the slightest doubt what it would be.

It didn’t take long in coming and the very speed of his reply confirmed me in my summing-up of Garth Seaton: he was precise, cold and incisive, I guessed; not given to procrastination or putting on the long finger anything he made up his mind to accomplish.

I opened the thick typed envelope with the feeling of increasing excitement. The message was brief, but to the point, and in effect accepted my application, ‘As your qualifications are completely satisfactory’. And I expect a lot better than most of the applicants, I thought, smugly! It continued, ‘Whether or not we are compatible is of little importance as your work will be with the boy, and Tregillis is large enough to ensure that should we disagree, we can avoid each other as much as possible’. It was signed, ‘Paul Newsom per pro Garth Seaton’.

I felt my cheeks burn, remembering that I had been foolish enough in my letter to hint that I would cooperate in every way possible. He had deliberately chosen to misunderstand me, making it sound as though I were gratuitously trying to worm my way into his private life.

I crumpled the sheet of paper in my hand and for a moment contemplated replying immediately to the effect that, on consideration, I have decided not to accept the position. But by now I had so accustomed myself to the idea of setting off for Cornwall—had even been confident enough of getting the position to invest in some country clothes—that it was impossible for me to stand on my dignity. I simply must go to Tregillis, whatever insults Garth Seaton chose to inflict. It would have been too much to hope, of course, that he might enlarge on my pupil, even give me his name! I should have to wait until I reached Tregillis to find out if my charge was the “odious child” referred to by Diana. He hadn’t even troubled to give me instructions how to reach the house, I thought furiously.

But on the following day a letter fluttered into the box. ‘Dear Miss Westall,’ it began in spidery, ladylike handwriting, ‘Mr.

Seaton has gone abroad, but before he left he requested me to write to you and give you directions how you will reach Tregillis, as it is rather remote.’ Then followed minute instructions. I should be met at the station by a car, it transpired, and driven a further five miles.

‘When you arrive at the house, please ask for me. I am the housekeeper. I shall do everything possible to make you comfortable.’ It was signed, ‘J. Kinnefer’.

So at least I knew who Mrs. Kinnefer was, I thought dryly. I would set off immediately. There was nothing more to keep me. In fact the sooner I left Diana’s home the better I should like it. It had become increasingly gloomy and melancholy. The house had been put up for auction by solicitors and men had come and proceeded to stick labels on the furniture. There was something almost ghoulish about seeing these well-loved pieces lined up for sale and covered by a thin film of dust. Soon the house would be an empty echoing shell and I wanted to cut my ties as fast as possible. This part of my life was over. There was nothing to stay for.

THE sun glinted off the blond hair of the young man who strode towards me as I stood on the platform amongst the bustling passengers, feeling suddenly forlorn and awkward and wondering belatedly if I had made a hideous mistake. ‘You’re Miss Westall, aren’t you?’ Blue eyes smiled.

‘Yes, but how did you guess?’ I replied cautiously.

The corners of his eyes crinkled up with a ready smile that I was to learn in time was one of his chief attractions. ‘I’m Paul Newsom, a sort of aide-cum-dogsbody to Garth Seaton. I simply picked the most attractive girl in sight and prayed I’d be right.’

Paul Newsom! I flushed, remembering the insulting message conveyed to me by Garth through his employee.

But he gave no sign of having witnessed my embarrassment and I realized that besides being obviously a practised hand with the ladies he could be tactful when the situation demanded it.

‘The car’s outside,’ he said, taking my cases and leading the way towards an enormous, gleaming limousine. ‘Actually,’ he said almost apologetically as he put them in the boot, ‘I usually drive about myself in a battered old jalopy. This is the one we use when we want to impress the customers.’

He saw I was puzzled.

‘Customers?’

As we drove away from the station he nodded. ‘The Seatons have been big landowners in these parts for hundreds of years.

They own clay-pits and tin mines. Garth Seaton will be away from home for the next few months, but I shall try to keep the wheels turning as smoothly as possible in his absence and do my best in my own small way to advance the Seaton interests.’

His voice was light, but I detected an undercurrent the meaning of which evaded me.

‘I’ve heard that Tregillis is very beautiful,’ I said cautiously.

He nodded. ‘Yes, it’s certainly a wonderful old pile: its mainly Tudor, but parts of it date from the Middle Ages. The family wealth was founded on the mines. It’s strange to think, isn’t it, that the Phoenicians sailed to Cornwall and traded in tin. It makes one feel almost as if one were a part of history!’

But I was more interested in the inmates of Tregillis. Suppose my pupil should be the ‘odious child’! The thought was unnerving.

I decided to approach the subject obliquely, for although Paul Newsom was talkative and charming, I had not missed the wary look in his eyes and I expected that he would be extremely discreet where his employer’s interests were concerned, either from genuine reticence or from fear of being summarily dismissed, for it was clear that Garth Seaton was not a man to be trifled with.

‘You know,’ I said lightly, ‘it sounds strange, but I don’t even know the name of the child I’m to tutor.’

He glanced at me for a moment in surprise. ‘His name is Emile Lelant. His mother is a local girl who married a French aristocrat, the Comte de Chalandon, and went to live in Normandy. His mother wants him to improve his English and Garth has arranged to take him.’ He paused, then said casually, ‘Garth and herself were friends for years. Everyone thought she would marry him.’

Could this then be the Armanell Diana had referred to in her diary? I was bursting with curiosity, but of course had to pretend indifference. These people must appear to have no interest for me.

At any rate, I thought with relief, the boy could not possibly be the M.M. whom Diana had referred to with so much loathing. Much as I longed to ask I kept silent, for I suspected that Paul Newsom, for all his air of openness and candour, would close up defensively should I attempt to question him.

We were driving through wide gates. On narrow piers was depicted a short, roughly-carved figure in Cornish granite.

He saw me look up at them curiously. ‘That, in case you don’t know it, is supposed to be Saint Piran. He’s supposed to have come and converted the people of Cornwall away back in early Christian times. It seems he came from Ireland and presented the Cornish people with a bottle of Irish whiskey. When he saw how much they enjoyed the stuff he promised to teach them how to make it. He instructed them to gather a pile of stones and when a fire was lit amongst them a stream of tin flowed out. And that’s how tin was first discovered in Cornwall—or so it’s said.’ He chuckled. ‘It sounds a bit thin to me and frankly I can’t imagine what he’s doing on top of the piers of Tregillis, for less saintly types than the Seatons it would be hard to find. They’ve all been tough, hard-living Cornishmen to a man.’

For a moment I remembered Diana’s description of her father.

There was at least one Seaton who didn’t fit into this category, and I wondered how long Paul Newsom had been steward at Tregillis and if he had known Diana’s father.

‘I expect Garth Seaton inherited from his father,’ I ventured.

He glanced at me warily. ‘Strange that you should say that, though one would almost assume it. But it so happened that it was from his uncle that he inherited—Giles Seaton: he was drowned out there, actually.’ He pointed out towards a cove that could be glimpsed now on one side of the avenue. On the other were banks of rhododendron of every hue and masses of azaleas. The sky was very blue and glittered on the grey granite boulders that surrounded the cove. I caught a glimpse of a pebbled shore and rocky pools, then the car swung around and we drove through a veritable tunnel of towering rhododendrons. The cove had looked so peaceful and benign that it was hard to believe that it could be as treacherous as Diana had said.

I mentioned this to him.

‘Perhaps it looks attractive on a summer day, but believe me it’s full of dreadful currents. In the olden days it was a smugglers’ cove and there’s many a skeleton of a good ship lies beneath its waters.’

But he didn’t elaborate and I said nothing. Anyway, I was too taken up with the vista that lay before me now that we had come out of the tunnel. Perched high on a plateau of land was a magnificent Tudor pile with tall chimneys: long mullioned windows glittered in the sun.

As we got out of the car Paul pointed to an elaborately carved stone under one of the windows. ‘That’s the family motto. It was carved during the Civil War. You’ll notice the S’s are engraved backwards: that’s to indicate that the Seatons were Stuart sympathizers.’

But I was hardly listening to him. I was too engrossed in the enormous hall we had entered: the floor was of dark polished slate: at the far end was a great chimney-piece and on a long, rough refectory table, black with age, were displayed pewter eating utensils of another age that gleamed like dull silver: the vaulted ceiling was of oak, giving the hall an almost ecclesiastical atmosphere.

Paul stamped on the floor. ‘Slate from the Delabole Quarry,’ he announced with satisfaction.

I glanced up at the arching ceiling. ‘And oak from the Armada,’

I said, without considering my words, then instantly became aware that I had foundered badly, for this had been a snippet of information Diana had once given me when she had been speaking of her beloved home.

Now Paul surveyed me warily and I noticed that his eyes were no longer smiling.

‘And how did you know that?’

‘Oh,’ I waved my hands airily, ‘it was just a guess. I’ve read so often that ships of the Spanish Armada were wrecked off the Cornish coast, and the wood looked so dark and ancient—’ I petered off into silence, for somehow I knew I didn’t sound convincing and that Paul didn’t believe one single word.

He began to chat again about the house and its history, but I got the impression it was an effort to disarm me and that he hadn’t for one minute forgotten my revealing remark.

However, I was not to be lured into a second self-betrayal and when eventually he said, ‘Here comes Mrs. Kinnefer: she’ll take care of you,’ I got the impression he was relieved to be handing me over to her charge.

She was a short, stout little figure so thick about the waist that her dark skirt hung like a badly-fitting crinoline. Her mouth was pursed into disapproving folds in the corners, yet I didn’t feel she was an ill-tempered woman. Rather it was because she felt that in her position one had to present a severe and responsible mien.

She nodded genteelly when Paul Newsom introduced us. Then as he showed signs of departing she turned to him and said firmly,

‘Melinda’s disappeared again, Mr. Paul. Really, I’ll have to tell Mr. Garth I won’t accept responsibility. Now that she’s on holiday she’s more mischievous than ever. He’s the only one she has any respect for, and as soon as his back’s turned she’s up to her old tricks. Sometimes I do believe the child’s bewitched, I really do!’

It was obvious that these were strong words from genteel Mrs.

Kinnefer.

Paul looked uncomfortable. ‘Oh, she’ll turn up again like a bad penny, you may be sure. I shouldn’t take her too seriously if I were you: it only makes her feel important and then she’ll be more troublesome than ever.’

Mrs. Kinnefer drew herself up, bridling. ‘I’m sure I don’t give the child any particular importance, Mr. Paul, but when it comes to the staff threatening to leave—’

Paul looked startled. ‘Threatening to leave?’ he repeated.

Mrs. Kinnefer nodded as though gratified at the effect of her words. ‘That’s just what I say. They’re threatening to leave. Said Tregillis was haunted and they were in fear of their lives.’