Legend of the Seventh Virgin (35 page)

Jane Carwillen called at the Abbas, having arranged for one of the Derrise grooms to drive her over. Doll received her and tried to prevent her from entering the house but she thrust the girl aside and demanded: “Where be my young lady? Take me to her.”

I heard the commotion and came into the hall. As soon as I saw her I said: “Come with me, I will take you to her.”

And I led the way to that room where Judith lay in her coffin.

Jane Carwillen stood beside it, looking down at Judith. She did not weep; she did not speak but I saw the grief in her face and I knew that a hundred little incidents of Judith’s childhood were passing through her mind.

“And her so young,” she said at last. “Why did it have to be?”

I whispered gently: “These things happen.”

She turned on me fiercely. “There was no need. She were young. Her whole life were before her.”

She turned away and as we left the room of death together we encountered Justin. The look of hatred Jane Carwillen flashed at him startled me.

Mrs. Rolt was waiting in the hall. She eyed Jane Carwillen eagerly. “I was thinking Miss Carwillen might take a glass of wine for comfort,” she said.

“There bain’t be no comfort you nor any can give me,” answered Jane.

“There be always comfort in a sorrow shared,” put in Mrs. Rolt. “You open your heart to us … and we’ll open ours to ’ee.”

Was that a message? Did it mean we have something to tell you which we think you ought to know?

Perhaps Jane thought so because she agreed to go to the kitchen and take a glass of wine.

Half an hour later, knowing she had not left the house I made an excuse to go down to the kitchens.

I knew that the servants were telling Jane about that occasion when Judith had accused her husband and Mellyora of being lovers. For the first time it was being said Judith’s death was not an accident.

The verdict at the inquest was accidental death. Judith it seemed, had been in a state of semi-intoxication; and thus had missed her footing on the stairs and plunged down to her death.

I gave evidence, since I had found her, explaining how I had come to the house to look for my son’s toy; then I had seen Judith lying at the bottom of the staircase, her shoe on one of the lower stairs. No one doubted me, although I was afraid my nervousness would betray me. It was presumed that I was upset, which was natural.

Sir Justin seemed to have aged ten years. I could see how he was reproaching himself. As for Mellyora, she looked like a ghost. I knew that she hated meeting any of the servants. She had forgotten all about the interview which she was supposed to have had and was too numbed by what had happened even to think very clearly. How different she was from me! Had I been in her place, I assured myself, I should have been exulting now, seeing the future clear before me. I should have snapped my fingers at the servants’ gossip. What was there to worry about when soon one would be mistress of the house, with the power to dismiss any of them. They would know this and adjust their attitude accordingly. But at the moment they were not sure which turn events would take.

But perhaps one of the most uneasy people in the house was myself. My son’s future was at stake. He was everything to me now. I did not care to look too closely at my own life. My marriage was not satisfactory, and there were times when I disliked Johnny. I wanted children and that was the only reason I tolerated him. I did not love him; I had never loved him; but there was a bond of sensuality between us which served as love. I had often dreamed of a love which would give me all I wanted from life and more especially so now. I wanted a husband to whom I could turn; who would comfort me and make my life worth while, even if my ambitious dreams were thwarted.

Never had I felt as lonely as I did at this time because I had been shown how by one thrust of fate dreams could be destroyed. I had felt myself to be powerful, able to will destiny to give me what I wanted; but had not Granny told me, time after time, that fate was more powerful than I. I felt weak and helpless; and feeling thus, I wanted a strong arm about me. I thought increasingly of Kim. That night in the woods had been significant in more ways than one. It had decided my future as well as Joe’s.

In my strange and devious way I was in love with Kim, in love with an image perhaps; but because my desires always went deep, because when I wanted something I wanted it passionately and wholeheartedly, I knew that was how I should love a man, deeply, passionately. And that night when I was young and inexperienced so that I did not fully understand my feelings, I had chosen Kim; and I had gone on building his image. There was a belief in the back of my mind that one day Kim would come back and he would come back for me.

And now, because I believed I could lose all I had wanted for Carlyon, I wished that I had a strong man beside me to comfort me; and it saddened me to know that man was not my husband and that this marriage of mine was a sordid bargain — a marriage without love, a marriage of a desire on one side so fierce that it had forced this step, and on the other a desire as fierce, but in my case for power and position.

I waited uneasily for what would happen next; and then I began to see that fate was giving me another chance.

The rumors had begun.

I was aware of this when I overheard one single remark from the kitchen. Mrs. Rolt had a penetrating voice.

“One law for the rich, one for the poor. Accidental Death. Accidental …
if
you please. And where was he? And where was she? Bessie Culturther did see them … walking in Trecannon Woods … horses tethered … holding hands they were. That were days afore. Planning? Maybe? And where were they when her ladyship was having her
accidental
death. Well, don’t do to ask, do it, because these be the gentry.”

Rumors. Gossip. They could grow big.

They did grow. There was gossip, endless gossip. It was too fortuitous, said the whispers. Events could not work out so neatly. Justin in love with Mellyora! Mellyora about to go away! The sudden death of the one who stood between them! Was it natural to suppose that Lady St. Larnston had had an accident at precisely the right time to prevent her husband losing his mistress?

How obliging fate could be to some people? But why should this be so? Did fate say “Oh, but this is Sir Justin and he must have what he wants!” Fate must give events a little push to make everything come right for Sir Justin St. Larnston. A little push? Those were the well-chosen words!

Where had Sir Justin been at that moment when his wife had fallen down the stairs? At the inquest he had explained that he had been exercising one of his horses. They did not ask Mellyora where she had been. If they had, she would have had to reply that she too had been exercising one of the horses. I could imagine the big table in the servants’ quarters; they would be sitting round it like so many detectives, piecing the story together.

The time had been cleverly chosen; the house quiet; the servants at the circus; Mr. Johnny away on business; Mrs. St. Larnston with her son and the old lady in the garden. Had Sir Justin come back to the house? Had he led his wife along the corridor to the top of the stairs, had he thrown her from top to bottom?

The servants were saying it; they were saying it in the village. In the little post office Miss Penset knew that Miss Martin had been writing letters to addresses in various parts of the country; and in view of that little scene when one of the rooms had caught fire at the Abbas and she had been seen — in her night clothes — with Sir Justin, and her poor ladyship had said just what was in her mind, there was little doubt as to what her ladyship had insisted on. Miss Penset would have had an account of that scene from several quarters. There was always Mrs. Rolt and Mrs. Salt, as well as Mr. Haggety to lean over the counter and stare at Miss Penset’s bosom beneath her black bombazine bodice; to smile knowingly, implying that she was a fine woman. She could worm any secret out of a man who admired her as much as Mr. Haggety did. Then there was Doll who was never very discreet, and Daisy who thought it so clever to imitate Doll. And hadn’t the postman told her he’d taken a letter to Miss Martin with a postmark on it which showed it came from one of the addresses she’d written to?

Miss Penset had her finger on the pulse of the village; she could tell that a girl was pregnant almost before the girl herself knew. All the dramas of village life were of the utmost interest to her; and as postmistress she was in a special position to be aware of them.

So I knew that in the post office, people talked to Miss Penset; when I went in there would be a hushed silence. I was regarded with more favor than ever before. I was an upstart perhaps; but at least I was not wicked like some people. Moreover my affairs had become of secondary importance now.

It was the day of the funeral. Flowers kept arriving and the smell of lilies pervaded the house. It was like the smell of death.

We were all dreading the ordeal. As I put on my bonnet, the face which looked back at me from the mirror seemed scarcely like my own. Black didn’t suit me; I had parted my hair in the center and wore a heavy knot on the nape of my neck, and long jet earrings in my ears and a necklace of jet about my throat.

My eyes looked enormous; my face thinner and more pale. I had been sleeping badly since Judith’s death and I had bad dreams when I did sleep. I kept dreaming of the hiring platform at Trelinket Fair and Mellyora coming over to take my hand. I dreamed once that I looked down at my feet and saw that I had grown a cloven hoof.

Johnny in his black top hat and black jacket looked more dignified than he usually did. He came and stood beside me by the mirror.

“You look … regal,” he said, and bending, so that he did not disturb my bonnet, kissed the tip of my nose.

He laughed suddenly. “By God,” he said, “there’s talk in the neighborhood.”

I shivered. I hated his look of complacence.

“He was always held up as an example … my holy brother. Do you know what they’re calling him now?”

“I don’t want to.”

He raised his eyebrows. “That’s not like you, my sweet wife. You usually like to pry into everything. There can only be one reason why you don’t want me to tell you. You know already. Yes, my love, they are saying that my sainted brother murdered his wife.”

“I hope you told them how absurd this was.”

“Do you think my words would have carried any weight?”

“Who’s saying this? The postmistress? Scandalmongers like her?”

“I’ve no doubt the answer to that is yes. That old vixen would repeat any scandal she could get her filthy tongue round. That’s to be expected. But it’s in higher places. My brother is going to find it hard to live this one down.”

“But everyone knew she was drinking.”

“Everyone knew that he wanted to be rid of her.”

“But she was his wife.”

He repeated my words mockingly. “What has come over my clever little wife? Now, Kerensa, what do you think?”

“That he is innocent.”

“You have a pure mind. You’re the only one who thinks that.”

“But the verdict …”

“Accidental death. That covers a lot. I can tell you this; no one will ever forget, and when Justin marries Mellyora Martin, which he will after a respectable interval, that rumor will persist. You know how it is in these parts. Stories are handed down from generation to generation. It’ll be there forever … the skeleton in the cupboard and no one will ever be sure when some mischievous person is going to open the cupboard door.”

He was right. I must tell the truth.

I shivered. I had not told all the truth at the inquest. How could I come forward now? Yet how could I not do so when even his own brother believed Justin might well be a murderer.

Johnny sat on the edge of the bed, studying the tips of his boots.

“I don’t see how they can ever marry,” he said. “The only way to kill this rumor is for them not to.”

How my eyes shone — unnaturally so. If they did not marry — if Justin never married — there could be no threat to Carlyon’s future.

The bell from the church began to toll.

“It’s time we were going,” said Johnny. He took my hand. “How cold you are! Cheer up. It’s not my funeral.”

I hated him. He didn’t care for his brother’s trouble. He was only smug and complacent because he could no longer suffer by comparison, for no one could ever hold Justin up as an example again.

What sort of man had I married? I asked myself; and that question was immediately replaced by another and more disquieting one.

What sort of a woman was I?