Menfreya in the Morning (15 page)

I could not talk to her on the journey back because of the presence of Dinah; but I gathered that the visits to Plymouth, which had been very frequent, invariably included a visit to the theater.

Why had she suddenly become so interested?

After we had retired for the night I went to her room, determined to find out how seriously she was involved. As I knocked I heard her speaking, but she called, “Come in,” and I found her standing in the center of the room, in her dressing gown; she had obviously been declaiming in front of the mirror. I saw a book open on a table, and I knew it for the Shakespeare we had used at school.

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“Juliet, I presume,” I said.

**What do you mean?”

I glanced at the open book. “The balcony scene. Let me hear you. ‘Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo …?* Start from there. I’ll be Mr. Benedict Bellairs.”

She had flushed. “Trust you!” she said angrily, and slammed the book shut

“You certainly look stage-struck. Gwennan, what are you

planning?”

“Nothing.”

“I always knew when you were scheming. Remember how I used to guess.”

“I was inspired by the performance this afternoon, that’s all”

“It’s more than I was.”

“Could you ever be inspired by anything?” , “Perhaps not Unless it’s your performance. Do let me see your Juliet.”

“Stop it.**

“I will when you tell me how far this has gone,”

“And stop that You sound like the mistress of the house who finds the master kissing the parlormaid.”

“Well, have you been kissing anyone?”

“Really, Harrietl”

“What about this Benedict person? You aren’t what you used to describe as ‘sowing your wild oats’ with him, an your*

**I find him interesting, that’s alL”

“And does Harry know how interesting you find him?”

“Stop it! I wish you hadn’t come.”

“Perhaps I’d better go back.”

“Don’t be a fool. How could you now?”

“But, Gwennan, I am seriously concerned. You’re not a schoolgirl now; you’re a young woman on the verge of marriage. Have you thought of Harry?”

“I shall be thinking of Harry for the rest of my life. I want a chance to think of someone else … for the last time.”

“Spoken like a bride!” I said. “Gwennan, it’s time you grew up.”

“You tell me that. You … baby! What do you know of life? Only what you read.”

“It’s possible that one might discover more of life through books than backstage with a third-rate theatrical company.”

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“Stop if

“You’re becoming repetitive.”

“And you’re insolent.”

I rose to go, but she caught my hand. “Listen, Harriet The company is going away the week before the wedding. Then that will be the end.”

“I don’t like it”

“You wouldn’t, Madam Purity.”

“I only hope . ..”

“Liar. Your only hope is that Bevil falls in love with you and marries you.”

I turned away, but she would not let me go. “We know too much about each other, Harriet. And there’s something else we know. We’d always stand together—no matter what sort of trouble one of us was in.”

It was true.

The next day Gwennan and I rowed over to the island. There was the house with its four walls, each looking out on the sea. It had been freshened up a little, and I guessed that my father had had that done before he died, but old Menfreya furniture was still in the place.

“What does this remind you of?” asked Gwennan.

There was no need to ask. I should never see the island after a length of time without recalling the night I had spent mere, and most of all that moment of fear when I had heard Devil’s voice below and he had come in with the girl from the village. I had been too innocent then to realize for what purpose he had brought her there; but of course I knew now that that would have been one incident in a long chain of similar ones in Devil’s life.

I felt vaguely depressed, thinking of Harry, who loved Gwennan; and Gwennan, who on the eve of marriage to him was letting her fancy stray to Benedict Bellairs; and Bevil, who like his father and most of the male Menfreys, seemed to believe it was the natural order of things to fly from female to female like a bee whose duty in life was pollination.

The boat had run aground and we scrambled out

“Fancy,” she said. “It’s yours now. This little bit of land is lost to the Menfreys forever. It’s like the sea slowly encroaching on the land. And here it is rising from the ocean. A reproach to us every time we look out to sea. In years to come future Menfreys will shake their heads and

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say: ‘Sir Endelion lost the island. That was a dark hour for Menfreya.’ Unless, of course, it comes back to the family through marriage.”

“Perhaps,” I suggested, “the marriage of a daughter to a rich man might make it possible to buy back the island.”

“It’s not easy to wrest Menfrey soil from those who acquire it Money is not always enough.”

“Let’s have a look at the house.”

I unlocked the door.

“Typical,” said Gwennan. “In our day the doors were never locked. Change and decay in all around I see …**

“It looks less decayed than when it was yours.”

“It looks almost prim. I wonder what the ghosts think now.”

“Are there more than one?**

“I think so. This is a much-haunted house. But perhaps the ghosts won’t appear for foreigners. They’re very particular, Cornish ghosts are.”

She was unnaturally flippant I wondered whether she was a little ashamed.

We went through the house, passing among the dust-shrouded furniture. I broke away from her and went alone to the bedroom where Bevil had discovered me. I could picture him now pulling off the dust sheet and myself looking up at him. Bevil, for whom I felt a special need … now!

“I should never want to live here,” I said. “The best thing about it is the view.”

“Just sea right away to the horizon.”

“No, I mean on the other side. The coast and Menfreya,”

Gwennan smiled at me fondly. “I believe you love the old place as much as we do.”

We did not stay long on the island and went back to Menfreya; as we climbed the cliff garden, went through the porch which faced the sea and passed the stables and outhouses, one of the grooms came out

“Mr. Bevil has just come home,” he said.

“So he has arrived has he,” smiled Gwennan; and she looked at me slyly.

I tried to make my face expressionless, but I don’t think I was very successful.

There followed some of the happiest days I had ever known. Bevil brought an atmosphere of gaiety into Menfreya.

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Perhaps this was enhanced because I ceased to think about Gwennan* Bevil was constantly in OUT company; Harry Leveret rode over from Chough Towers every day, and the four of us took a morning ride. Lady Menfrey, who was in perpetual fear that her headstrong family would do something outrageous, consoled herself that we chaperoned each other. I became almost gay; on horseback I was happier than on my feet; there I felt an equal and, probably because of this, I was a good horsewoman. Everything seemed to be in my favor. Jessica Trelarken was miles away—somewhere in London, according to A’Lee. Harry was completely wrapped up in Gwennan, and she in her own complicated affairs. That left Bevil and myself.

We would ride ahead of the others; sometimes we lost them.

“I don’t think they’ll miss us,” said Bevfl. I shall never forget walking our horses through the woods, with dappled shadows cast by the foliage; the feel of a horse beneath me always brings back that wild exhilaration. I discovered then that for me there would never be any other in my life to compare with Bevfl. He seemed all that I had dreamed he was in my childhood when I had made of him a knight… my knight The birdsong; the soft breeze coming off the sea—that gentle southwest Cornish wind that is like a caress, soft and damp, and beautifying because it makes your skin glow; the sudden glimpse of the sea, midnight-blue, azure-blue, peacock-blue … pale almost to greenish-blue, aquamarine—all the blues in the celestial artist’s palette —and grays and greens and mother-of-pearl. But never, as I said to Bevil, so beautiful as when touched by the rosy glow of sunrise.

“Don’t tell me you wake early to see it?” “I do. But the best view is from the island house; then you can look back at the land and Menfreya … Menfreya in the morning is the loveliest sight in the world. I saw it once …”

He laughed and his tawny eyes were on me—on my throat and my body and then they were looking into mine.

“I remember the occasion well. I found you cowering under a dust sheet and thought you were a tramp.”

“I had thought you were a ghost until I heard voices. You were not alone, remember.**

“Of course not I didn’t go to see the view. But one day I

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will. You will have to invite me, for the place is no longer ours; and I promise you 111 arrive early and we’ll look at Menfreya hi the morning… together.”

“I should like that”

He looked over his shoulder.

“It seems we have lost them again,” he said with a grin.

*1 think Harry has taken some pains to get lost”

“And I confess 1 made no effort to prevent him.”

“You think it wise?”

“When you know me better, Harriet, which I hope you will, you will discover that I am not often wise,”

“You’re all very happy about Gwennan’s marriage, I believe?”

“It’s ideal. Harry’s a fine fellow; and they’ll live at Chough Towers. It couldn’t be better.**

“And he’s very rich.”

“There’s money in the duchy if you know where to find it Tin, china clay, the stone we built our houses with, and our seas chock full of fish. There are fortunes waiting for the energetic.*’

**And the Menfreys are not energetic?”

“We never had to be. But believe me, being the Member for Lansella is no sinecure. You know that from your father’s day.”

“Do you enjoy the life?**

He turned to me. “I always wanted it It seemed wrong that Lansella should not be represented by a Menfrey. It always has been, and I believed when I was quite young that rd go into politics. I had all sorts of plans for reforms. I was young and idealistic. I could have told you all the important events as far back as Peel’s ministry, Russell’s, Derby’s, Aberdeen’s and Palmerston’s. I’ve followed Disraeli’s career and Gladstone’s … And, of course, Rosebery’s and Salisbury’s.”

“Yes, I have too.”

“You. But why you, Harriet?”

“Because I used to feel sometimes that if I could talk to my father about politics he might become interested in me. I really believed that it was possible at one time.”

He was looking at me intently. *Tell me, Harriet, dont you think the world of politics is a fascinating one?”

“The people are fascinating. I should love to have met Mr.

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Disraeli. His marriage must have been quite perfect He with his curls, flamboyance and brilliant wit; she in her feathers and diamonds. I have always heard that they were devoted to each other; and I think that is wonderful.’*

“How romantic you are. I had no idea.”

“It was natural that she should be devoted to him because he was Prime Minister, favorite of the Queen, and everyone waited for what he would say next; but she was, so I heard, a rather ridiculous woman, years older than he was and not very intellectual. And he married her for her money. Fancy! Yet he said later, or perhaps someone else said it, that although he married her for her money, after years together he would have married her for love.”

“Marriages of convenience often turn out the best in the end. Theirs was a shining example. They have everything on their side.”

“Except love?” I suggested.

“Love is something that takes time to grow perhaps.”

“What of love at first sight?”

“That’s passion, my dear Harriet, a less hardy plant.**

“Do you really believe that?”

“I believe only what is proved. I am a man of little faith, as you see,”

“Well, let us hope that one day you will be able to prove your theories.”

“I shall, Harriet, Tve no doubt. It’s interesting, you know, your being the daughter of the late Member.”

“You find it so?”

He studied me, his eyes screwed up against the sunlight

“You’ll have to help me during the next election.*1

“I should enjoy it”

“A woman can be a great help—particularly the daughter of the late Member.”

“But you don’t need help down here. They’re only too eager that you should represent them.”

He leaned towards me and gripped my wrist “I shall need your help,” he said; and I flushed with pleasure.

I was so happy; I had to keep reminding myself that this was how he was with women. He knew exactly what to say to please them best

He was smiling at me. ‘Tin glad,” he went on, “that yon are growing up now, Harriet. We must meet more frequently.

My chambers are not far from you* You must ask your stepmother to invite me.”

“I wilL”

We lightly touched our horses flanks and cantered across the open stretch of country which lay before us.

We had reached the moor and we tethered our horses for a while and sat on a stone wall. It was a glorious morning, with the sun shining on the long grass picking out the globules of moisture clinging to the blades—for there was a little mist up there—and making them glitter like crystals. The soft wind touched my skin and I was happy.

Then he returned to Jenny.

“You enjoy being part of that menage, Harriet?”

“It’s my home, I suppose.”

“I wonder she cares to stay on in that house.”

“She was planning to buy a house in the country, but she can’t touch the capital my father left her. Presumably she holds it in trust for me.”

“So that’s the way it is.**

“I don’t understand fully. All I know is that Greville, Baker and Greville told her she could not have the money for the house.”