Menfreya in the Morning (10 page)

She was tall and slender; her hair was dark, almost black, and her eyes a startling blue accentuated by the blue gown she wore. She must have been about nineteen then.

The stretcher was carried into a bedroom on the first floor, and the doctor attended to Gwennan. Jess helped him, and I was asked to remain downstairs. I was taken by a maid into a light and any room, pleasantly furnished in a conventional way, except for the painting over the fireplace of a very pretty

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woman who was like Jess but did not possess the same outstanding beauty. The air was scented by the flowers in a huge earthenware pot on the polished table by the window— purple buddleia and lavender, and pink cabbage roses.

I sat down and listened to the tick-tock of the grandfather clock, wondering how long it would be before I heard how badly Gwennan was hurt and gazing distractedly at my distorted reflection in the gleaming brass oil lamp which stood on the table beside the bowl of flowers.

It was about twenty minutes before the doctor appeared. Jessica was with him.

“I expect Miss JJelvaney would like some refreshment,’* he said.

“I am sure she would,” added Jessica, giving me that serene smile which I was to come to know so well

“Gwennan?” I asked.

“Broken leg. I don’t want to move her just yet Nothing much. She took the bank too fast, I reckon, I’ve seen it happen at that spot before.”

“I should go to Menfreya at once,” I said. “Sugar Loaf will go back there. They’ll be frightened.”

“We’ve already sent to explain,” said Jessica. “I shouldn’t be surprised if someone doesn’t come over very soon.”

“And you, young lady,” went on the doctor, “have had a bit of a shock. Jess, ring for that wine and some of your wine biscuits to go with it. Well all have something.”

Jessica went to the bellpull; she moved with the grace of a jungle creature, which accorded oddly with her air of gentleness.

“And after that,” said the doctor, “you’ll be able to have a word with Miss Menfrey, I daresay.”

So I sat there in that scented room drinking wine with the Trelarkens, and all the time I was thinking: It’s a judgment. She decided she wouldn’t go back to school with me— and she won’t

I missed her very much, but life went more smoothly without her. I worked harder than I ever had, and my teachers were pleased with me; I didn’t make friends with other girls; I had never found that easy, and as I was no use at games, I spent the time in study. This began to show results.

But when I received a letter from Gwennan I was conscious of a yearning to be with her. It was an exuberant letter.

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She was pleased with life. She was getting her own way, which was what she always must have.

“My poor, poor Harriet, to think of you in that dreadful genteel Academy for Young Indies! What do you think? I am engaged to Harry. Of course there’s opposition. ‘Too young! Too young!’ they keep screaming at me. Mind you, the family want it—both families do—and so does Harry … madly. So it doesn’t make much sense waiting, does it?”

I smiled as I read that and thought: But if you don’t want to wait, Gwennan, then there’ll be no waiting. I read on:

“I did think of an elopement. That would have been fun, with Harry climbing the walls of Menfreya—the steepest part, you know where the walls and the cliff edge meet. One slip and down to certain death! But then I thought, no. A young woman—not a young lady, mind you; I have done with those repulsive things—must have a little time to look round. Well, they came up with this suggestion: One year in a finishing school during the engagement, and then wedding bells to ring in Menfreystow. It appeals to me. I expect I shall be one of the few people who have ever gone away to school already engaged. So that is to be it I’m off to France— somewhere in the middle. Near Tours, where they speak the best French, so they tell me, because I have to come back speaking like a native. Part of the requirements of a woman of education, you understand.

“My bones have set perfectly, so Dr. Trelarken says. He was very pleased with my progress, and Bevil is very pleased with Jessica, his daughter. A pity he always chooses the most unsuitable people. Dr. Trelarken doesn’t seem to be one of the clever doctors who choose their patients with care. Hard work and gratitude seem to be this man’s reward. Very noble, but it seems the only dowry poor Jess will bring to her husband is her beauty.

“Then, of course, the war. Bevil was determined to go and fight the wicked Boer for Queen and country. You see, when he stands for Parliament he’d do so much better as a hero returned from the wars. Besides, Menfreys always rally to the cause. He was determined to go, but now I think he’s not so eager. It’s because of Jess. Perhaps he’ll many her

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before he goes off with Kitchener. There’s nothing like a war for making hasty marriages.

“Harry won’t go. He’s needed at home, he says; and so does his father. Business must go on.

“What a long letter this is. And I hardly ever write letters. It’s because my heart bleeds for my poor Harriet, who is not engaged to be married, who is not going to a finishing school in France, who is not in dear Menfreya but sitting at her study window, I’ll swear, looking out over neat lawns, her books before her, being such a good little girl now that she is not distracted by her wicked Gwennan.”

As usual, she had disturbed me; I could not recapture the peace I had been enjoying. I pictured it all; something exciting always seemed to be happening at Menfreya. I saw Bevil riding over to the Trelarkens, and Jessica coming out to stand on the porch. She would be wearing the blue dress I had first seen her in, with the white lace collar; she had been lovely then; now, being in love, she must be breath-takingly beautiful.

And Bevil was in love with her, and be would soon be leaving her to go to South Africa. Yes, be would want to many her before he went

I thought of Bevil and the girl he had brought to the island. There must bave been others in between her and Jessica. Many others. But Jessica was different. Young and inexperienced as I was, I sensed that, and I was depressed.

There was one more letter from Gwennan before she left for the finishing school:

“Harry’s people are taking over Chough Towers. He knows I’d never really feel happy away from Menfreya, so he says that Chough will be our home. I must say I like the idea. I am already planning balls 111 have in that perfectly magnificent ballroom. Your father’s lease was running out, so Chough won’t be your Cornish residence much longer—it’ll be mine. Of course, I shall invite you to stay. I’ll give you the room you now have. It will be fun, won’t it? But I’ll bet you’re wondering what your father is going to do. Hell have to have a place near Lansella, won’t he? We’re very pleased with your stern parent, Harriet. Do you know what he’s done? You’ll never guess. He’s taken the house on No Man’s Island. More than that, he’s bought the island from Papa. This is a

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marvelous stroke of luck for us. You know what a white elephant of an island it is. It’s just there, and what use is it— except for runaway heiresses to hide in, and dissolute young men to effect seductionsl What dreadful company I keep! The point is, I had to be the first to tell you. No Man’s Island will soon be yours. You can imagine the improvements your father will make. It’ll be a palace on an island, I expect, before he’s done with it. Papa is absolutely delighted. He goes around rubbing his hands with glee. At last we have something to tide us over I

“You see, Harriet, nothing remains the same. I am leaving at the end of the week for my finishing school. I wish you were coming. You probably will. Here’s another secret. Your father is talking about it, and Mamma has given him all sorts of details about the place. Well, it seems our fate is not to be parted for long. I shall hope that you too will soon be acquiring an impeccable French accent But don’t become engaged, will you? I want the distinction of being not merely the first but the only engaged woman to arrive at the school.

Q.

“P.S. Bevil is no longer with us. He’s become a soldier. He won’t be leaving for South Africa just yet, but when he does the war will soon be over, you can be sure. Poor Jess is sad, but they’re not engaged. Great relief displayed by the parents. They’ve been absolutely terrified—although, of course, it wouldn’t have been such a calamity, as I am obliging with Harry. See you soon, Harriet, at our finishing school. G.”

Change was in the air, but when I arrived home for the holidays I was faced with the greatest of them all—so far.

It was the end of the spring term and, to my disappointment, I had a letter from my father telling me that instead of spending the holiday as usual at Chough Towers I was to come to London. I should be met at Paddington.

I was disappointed, although neither Gwennan nor Bevil would have been there, but even so I had been looking forward to going to Cornwall, to hear from A’Lee—that infallible source of information—what exactly was happening about Chough Towers, which my father would shortly be vacating, and what improvements had been made to the island house. But most of all I wanted to know more about Bevil

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and Jessica Trelarken, for I could not believe that Jessica would allow herself to be the partner in one of Devil’s casual affairs.

I could not understand, either, why my father wanted me to be in London. Surely since he disliked seeing me so decidedly, he would want my holidays to be spent where he was not.

As soon as I alighted from the train I saw Fanny, who had come to meet me. She looked just the same as usual in her plain serge cloak with the cotton dress showing beneath; her black bonnet, tied under the chin with gray ribbon, did little for her face except accentuate its pallor and hide the gray-brown hair which was always scraped back unbecomingly. Her expression was anxious. I felt emotional as I watched her. She looked so insignificant—but to me she had tried to be the mother I had never known,

Her face relaxed when she saw me.

“Miss Harriet My! How you’ve grown!”

“You look the same as ever, Fanny.”

“My growing days are over. This is a change … coming to London for this holiday.” She looked at me anxiously. “What do you make of that?’

“Something’s happened?” I asked.

She nodded grimly.

“Oh, Fanny .. . what?”

“Your father’s married again. You could have knocked me down with a feather.”

“But, Fanny, whom has he married?”

“You wait, my lady, and you’ll see for yourself.**

“She’s there now … at home?’

“Oh yes. Your father can’t wait to introduce you to your stepmother. He thinks everyone must be as delighted with her as he is.”

“He … delighted!”

“I’d say.”

“But … he couldn’t be delighted about anything.”

“Well, he is about this little bundle of nonsense, I can tell you.”

“Fanny, I never thought of anything like this.”

“That’s what I guessed. So I’m warning you. You had to be prepared … to my way of thinking.”

She had taken my bag and we made our way to where the

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carriage was waiting. When we were settled in and moving out into the streets, I said: “Fanny, when did it happen?”

“Three weeks ago.”

“He didn’t say anything about it”

“He wasn’t in the habit of sending you long explanations of what he was doing, ducky, was he?”

“But did it happen suddenly … like that?”

“Well, there was a bit of courting, I believe. He changed. One of the maids beard him singing one morning. We thought she was going up the pole when she told us. But it was true. Love’s a funny thing, Miss Harriet”

“It must be if it came to him.”

She laid her hand over mine.

“You’ll find him changed,” she warned.

“It must be for the better then,” I retorted, “because it couldn’t very well be for the worse, could it?”

I did find him changed. But when I met my stepmother I was so astonished that I could only gasp at the incongruity of this match.

As soon as we arrived at the house, Mrs. Trant came into the hall to tell me that I was to go at once to the library, where my father and Lady Delvaney were waiting for me.

As I stood on the threshold of that room, I could sense the change creeping over the house. Nothing, I thought, is going to be the same again. We have come to the end of an epoch. Lady Qelvaney was sitting in an armchair by the fireplace. She was a young woman, petite, with fair, fluffy hair, a strikingly fresh complexion, round babyish face and pale blue eyes so large that they looked as though she were startled. Perhaps she was, at the sight of me. She was dressed in pink and white, and my first impression was that she was like a piece of confectionery the cook had made for one of Papa’s parties. There was a pink ribbon in her hair, and her gown was trimmed with pink and white; her face was delicately powdered; her waist was the tiniest I had ever seen, and never had the term “hourglass” been more aptly applied than to her.

But the most startling sight in that room was not this woman. It was my father. I would not have believed he could ever have looked like that. His eyes had become more blue and they were brilliant as they were when he was being witty with his political friends.

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“Harriet,” he said, rising and craning towards me, he took my hand in one of his and laid the other on my shoulder— a gesture of affection which he had never before used towards me. “I want you to meet your … stepmother.”

The pretty creature covered her face with her hands and murmured: “Oh, but it sounds so dreadful.”

“Nonsense, my love,” said Father. “Harriet and you win be friends.*1

She rose and lifted those big blue eyes to my face—she was considerably shorter than L “Do you think so?” she asked tremulously.

I realized that the creature was—or pretended to be—afraid of me!

“I am sure we can,” I said.

Never had I found it so easy to please my father, who was now smiling at me benignly.