Menfreya in the Morning (14 page)

**Oh, you be a regular caution, Miss Harriet”

‘Tell me, are there any changes here?”

“Doctor died some six months back.**

“Dr. Trelarken?”

“Yes. He took in a partner, Dr. Syms. He be there atone now.”

“And Miss Trelarfcen?”

“Oh, Miss Jessie, her went away … to London, I think. Her was staying with an aunt of hers up there, and there was talk of her being a governess or companion. There wasn’t no money, you know, and her’d have to earn her living like, poor young lady.”

“I should think she would be … capable.”

“Oh yes, very capable. Twouldn’t suprise me if her didn’t marry before long. She were a lovely-looking maiden.”

“Very beautiful.”

“Oh, yes. I always said to Mrs. A’Lee that it done you good to look at her. There was a time when we used to think…”

“Yes, what did you think?”

“Well, Mr. Bevil, he were sweet on her. Mind you, he’s been fond of a good many maidens in his time, I’d say; but with Jessie Trelarken it did look … Oh, well, seems it came to naught. He be a big politician now, as you do know. Got in with a big majority, I can tell ‘ee. People here is close, you do know. They like to stick to their own. Reckon they sees it as right and proper to be represented by a Menfrey again.”

“Oh yes, my father was a bit of an outsider, wasn’t he?”

“Well, ‘tis like this here. He didn’t never belong, did he? Now you, Miss, you have an air of belonging. I reckon it was because you come down here when you was a little

*un. And us don’t forget that you run away from London to come to we.”

“Oh … that was long ago.”

“Us don’t forget. It makes us think that you could belong with us more than most foreigners. You was a little

*un when you come here, and us do know that this is where

you like best to be. Twas always so.” “You’re right. I do feel happy here.” Then, Miss Harriet, it’s where you belong to be.” “Look,” I cried, “I can see Menfreya Manor.” “Aye, well be there in a little while now.**

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“It’s always exciting to get the first glimpse after I’ve been away.”

“I can see you’ve a love for the old place. They say Mr. Harry have promised to do all sorts of things for the house after the marriage, and you can bet your dear life Miss Gwennan will keep him up to that.”

“You mean repairs?”

A’Lee pointed with his whip. “Place like that do need constant repairs, Miss Harriet. Why, what it do rightly need is men working on it all the time, for being big like that … and having stood up these many hundred years to our gales and our seas, well, stands to reason, it wants building up like.”

“And Harry Leveret is going to help. I’m so glad.”

“That’s why they’m so pleased with the marriage. I reckon they wouldn’t be so content to welcome in Mr. Harry but for his money. If you was to ask me, I reckon the lucky one in this little old wedding is Miss Gwennan. Menfrey! Why be so proud just because you can trace your ancestry back a few hundred years? Reckon we’ve all got ancestors, eh?”

“I reckon so,” I said.

“Well, if all the tales I’ve heard of Menfrey doings be true, ‘twouldn’t be all that to be proud about.”

“You’re right,” I answered. “Still, if the Leverets are pleased and the Menfreys too, that’s a fortunate state of affairs. Oh … look … there’s the island.”

“My word, yes, I’d been forgetting. It do belong to you now.”

“Not exactly to me. My father married and I have a stepmother.”

“Oh, to her then?”

“Not exactly to her either. I’m not at all sure. In any case, it’s in my family now.”

“Us don’t like it much … the old duchy passing into the hands of foreigners, but as I said: Ml rightly be the little maid’s, Miss Harriet’s, now, and that don’t seem so bad like.”

That’s kind of you.”

” Tisn’t kind. Tis true.”

“I shall look forward to going over to the island.”

“You don’t be planning to go spending no more nights there, I reckon.”

“I suppose everyone here will remember that forever.”

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Menfreya in the Morning

*”Oh, ‘twas a right good story. It were in the papers. Daughter of the Member and all … and all London looking for her when she were hiding here in the duchy … right here, you might say, in our very midst.”

“It was a silly thing to do. But remember, I was very young.”

“Us didn’t think it were all that silly.”

His jaw began to wag again and I was silent for now we had reached the gates of Menfreya, which faced the road, and were turning in through the archway on which was fixed the ancient clock which was never allowed to stop.

I looked up. It was keeping perfect time as usual, and I remarked on this.

” ‘Course it be in good order,” said A’Lee. “Reckon it mustn’t never be aught else. Tis Thomas Dawney’s task to see it do keep hi good order, and ‘tis what the Dawneys has been fed and clothed and roofed for, this last hundred years —ever since the clock did stop and Sir Redvers Menfrey were thrown from his horse, they Menfreys has made sure as nothing do happen to the clock.”

Through the gateway we went under the clock, past the lodge and those quarters which had been the home of Dawneys for a hundred years, and there were the lawns with the hydrangeas and azaleas all in bloom and the lovely cotoneaster which was covered in scarlet berries all through the winter.

In the great hall, with its pictures on the walls, hs vaulted ceiling and its staircase on either side of which were suits of armor worn during the Civil War by the Menfreys of the day, I remembered that night when I was brought hi from the island by Bevil, and how Gwennan had stood on the staircase reproaching me.

Now A’Lee pulled the bellrope, and Pengelly, the Menfreys’ butler, came into the hall and conducted me into the red drawing room, where Lady Menfrey was waiting to receive me.

It was wonderful to be with Gwennan again. She was like a flame; she seemed to have been born with a radiance which was dazzling. I felt alive merely to look at her.

She came in while I was having tea with Lady Menfrey, swooped on me in her exuberant way and carried me o2

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to her room. She had changed, of course. She was indeed a woman—voluptuous and beautiful, eager and excited,

This, I thought, is Gwennan in love.

She talked about the plans for the wedding. The whole neighborhood expects a grand affair. It’ll be rather like a medieval pageant, I imagine. My wedding dress is going to be a copy of one worn by my great-great-great-grandmother. I have to keep going for fittings. Such a bore, because I have to take Dinah with me. Chaperonel Unmarried young ladies are not allowed to go into the big city alone. One of the best things about being married is freedom, I do assure you, Harriet You will be in chains still, while I shall be free.”

“Some husbands, I have heard, can be jailers.”

“Not my husband. Do you imagine I’d go from one prison to another?”

“Actually, I think your family is more lenient than most”

**What are we talking about when there’s so much to say? Now you are maid of honor. Makes me sound like a queen, doesn’t it? And you are going to be dressed in lilac chiffon and you’ll look…”

“Hideous,” I added.

“That’s the idea. A contrast to the beautiful bride.*1

We were laughing together. It was good to be with Gwennan. The thought struck her, for she said so.

“I’m so glad you’ve come, Harriet When I’m married you must be our first guest at Chough.1*

“It’s odd to think of you there.”

“Yes, isn’t it? Mind you, we’re making tremendous alterations. Harry is making it like a palace to fit his queen.”

“I believe you’re madly in love with him.”

“Shouldn’t I be? Only I’m supposed to hide it until the wedding day. He has to go on his knees to me before the day; then he forces me to mine when I have to honor and obey.”

“He wouldn’t dare!”

“I should hope not. He adores me. Now, listen. Tomorrow, we are going into Plymouth. It’s rather amusing. Dinah has a sister there, and I send her off to see her. That leaves us free.”

“Free for what?”

“You’ll see. But first we have to go to the dressmaker’s to see about that lilac gown of yours.”

She was smiling—looking I thought, into the future; and

98 Menfreya in the Morning I realized how very fond I was of her, because I sensed a new softness in her and I guessed that was being in love. Gwennan would love more fiercely than most people. Everything she did was done with such verve. If Harry Leveret loved her and she loved him, they should be very happy.

Then she said a strange thing: “Harriet, I sometimes think I should have done well on the stage.”

I raised my eyebrows and waited for her to enlarge on this subject, but she said nothing and went on smiling into the future.

The next day we were driven to the station and there took the train to Plymouth. Dinah, Gwennan’s personal maid, accompanied us and deposited us at the dressmaker’s, arranging to pick us up late in the afternoon.

I said, “We are spending a long time at the dressmaker’s.” But Gwennan only smiled and retorted that I must leave everything to her.

I was measured; I saw the lilac material, and Gwennan said that we should come back in three days for my first fitting. We were in the shop for only half an hour.

“I have a treat in store for you, Harriet. We are going to the theater. You’ll like it. It’s rather wonderful. Romeo and Juliet. You remember how well you could read poetry, but you were no good in the plays, were you. You could never forget yourself. That’s your trouble.”

“Why didn’t you say we were going to the theater?”

“Why should I?”

“As a matter of interest.**

She was silent, and the smile still played about her lips.

“I might even take you backstage after the show.”

“You mean … you have a friend in the production?”*

“You always said I surprised you, and you never knew what I was going to do next Are you surprised now?”

I agreed that I was.

“You’re going to enjoy this, Harriet.”

She bought our tickets and we went into the theater. I saw from the program that it was a repertory company who were spending a short season in Plymouth and were doing Henry Arthur Jones and Finero besides the occasional Shakes-pearean production.

But I was more interested in Gwennan’s attitude than

anything I should see on the stage. Some adventure was in

progress. I knew the signs and I began to have misgivings.

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Why should she be so interested in the theater on the eve of her wedding?

She pointed to a name on the list of players. “Eve Ellington,” I read. “What of it?” I asked.

“You can’t guess who that is?”

J. shook my bead.

“Remember Jane Ellington?1*

I did. I could see Jane in the center of our room in France, reciting scenes from Hamlet.

“Good heavens,” I said. “No!”

“Yes,” she answered. “She wrote to me that she would be here, and I came along to see her. Then I went backstage, as she had invited me, and I met some members of the company. I’ve been several times since.”*

“That’s why you thought you’d like to be on the stagel Rather late to think about that when you’re shortly to become Mrs. Leveret, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she said, “it’s very late. What you would call the eleventh hour.”

“No,” I said, “it’s on the stroke of midnight.”

“That won’t be until the actual ceremony,” she answered firmly.

“You wouldn’t be any good. You’d never learn a part”

The curtain rose and the play began. It was cheap and tawdry, I thought, and the acting indifEerent; oddly enough, Gwennan seemed entranced. Romeo was handsome enough and I looked for his name hi the program: Benedict Bel-lairs; and I noticed that Eve Ellington played Lady Capulet. I recognized her immediately and settled down to watch her. Poor Jane, who had had such grand ideas!

When the curtain fell on the first act I said as much to Gwennan. “What rubbish,” she said. “She has to start, hasn’t she? I think it’s quite an … achievement.”

“You think she will be another Ellen Terry, and I suppose Romeo is Irving in embryo.”

“Why not?”

“I should imagine that even in the beginning of their careers they played rather differently.”

“You’re too cynical, Harriet You always are. Just because you don’t attempt anything, there’s no need to sneer at people who do.”

“Why . .. you’re stany-eyedl”

**I appreciate .effort, that’s all.”

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Menfreya in the Morning

I was silent I was beginning to feel really disturbed.

I thought the play was never coming to an end. I kept glancing at Gwennan; she was unaware of me; her eyes were intent on the stage. This was quite unexpected; but then it was the unexpected that one must expect with Gwennan.

Eagerly she took me backstage after the performance. I had never been behind the scenes of a theater before and I found it exciting, though somewhat squalid. It was pleasant to see Jane again; and she welcomed me warmly. We sat on a packing box and talked. She loved the life, she told me; she wouldn’t exchange it for the richest husband in the world. I guessed she was referring to Gwennan’s coming marriage. Her people had been averse to her going on the stage, so she had simply run away. She reckoned she was very possibly cut out of her father’s will. Who cared? The smell of greasepaint was worth all the fortunes in the world when you were eighteen and in love with your chosen profession.

Gwennan was talking to Romeo. He was still in costume and his face was shining with greasepaint; but I could see that he was very good-looking.

“I want to introduce you to Benedict Bellairs,** she told me.

He took my hand and bowed over it.

“Welcome backstage,” he said.

I felt a shiver of apprehension in my spine, I did not like

Gwennan was secretive, which was strange, for she rarely kept anything to herself and had always said the first thing that came into her head without consideration. That was why the change was alarming.