Mistress of Mellyn (16 page)

How could I find it among these rows of grey crosses and headstones, I wondered as I looked about me helplessly. Then I thought, the TreMellyns would no doubt have some grand memorial to their dead; I must look for the most splendid vault, and I am sure I shall quickly find it that way.

I saw a huge vault of black marble and gilt not far off. I made for this and quickly discovered it to be that of the Nansellock family.

A sudden thought occurred to me. Geoffry Nansellock would lie here, and he died on the same night as Alice. Were they not found dead together?

I discovered the inscription engraved on the marble. This tomb contained the bones of defunct Nansellocks as far back as the middle seventeen hundreds. I remembered that the family had not been in Mount Widden as early as there had been TreMellyns at Mount Mellyn.

It was not difficult to find GeofFry’s name for his was naturally the last entry on the list of the dead.

He died last year, I saw, on the 17th of July.

I was all eagerness to go back and look at the diary and check up that date.

I turned from the tomb and as I did so I saw Celestine Nansellock coming towards me.

” Miss Leigh,” she cried. ” I thought it was you.”

I felt myself flush because I remembered seeing her last night among the guests in the solarium, and I wondered what she was thinking of me now.

“I took a stroll down to the village,” I answered, “and found myself here.”

” I see you’re looking at my family tomb.”

” Yes. It’s a beautiful thing.”

” If such a thing can be beautiful. I come here often,” she volunteered. ” I Like to bring a few flowers for Alice.”

” Oh, yes,” I stammered.

” You saw the TreMellyn vault, I suppose?”

” No.”

” It’s over here. Come and look.”

I stumbled across the long grass to the vault which rivalled that of the Nansellocks in its magnificence.

On the black slab was a vase of Michaelmas daisies—large perfect blooms that looked like mauve stars.

” I’ve just put them there,” she said. ” They were her favourite flowers.”

Her lips trembled, and I thought she was going to burst into tears.

I looked at the date and I saw it was that on which Geoffry Nansellock had died.

I said: ” I shall have to go back now.”

She nodded. She seemed too moved to be able to speak. I thought then:

She loved Alice. She seems to have loved her more than anyone else.

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her about the diary I had discovered, but I hesitated. The memory of last night’s shame was too near to me. I might be reminded that I was, after all, only the governess. And what right had I, in any case, to meddle in their affairs?

I left her there and as I went away I saw her sink to her knees. I turned again later and saw that her face was buried in her hands and her shoulders were heaving.

I hurried back to the house and took out the diary. So on the l6th of July last year, on the day before Alice was supposed to have eloped with Geoffry Nansellock, she had written in her diary that if her

brooch was not returned on the next day she n must go along to the jeweller as she needed it for a dinner party to be held on the i8th.

That entry had not been made by a woman who was planning to elope.

I felt that I had almost certain proof in my hands that the body which had been found with Geoffry Nansellock’s on the wrecked train was not Alice’s.

I was back at the old question. What had happened to Alice? If she was not lying inside the black marble vault, where was she?

I felt I had discovered a vital clue but it took me no further. Each day I woke up expectant, but of the days which passed one was very like another. Sometimes I pondered on several courses of action. I wondered whether I would go to Connan TreMellyn and tell him that I had seen his wife’s diary and that it clearly showed she had not been planning to leave.

Then I told myself I did not quite trust Connan TreMellyn, and there was one thought concerning him which I did not want to explore too thoroughly. I had already begun to ask myself the question: Suppose Alice was not on the train, and something else happened to her, who would be most likely to know what that was? Could it be Connan TreMellyn?

There was Peter Nansellock. I might discuss this matter with him, but he was too frivolous; he turned every line of conversation towards the flirtatious.

There was his sister. She was the most likely person. I knew that she had been fond of Alice; they must have been the greatest friends.

Celestine was clearly the one in whom I could best confide. And yet I hesitated. Celestine belonged to that other world into which I had been clearly shown on more than one occasion, I had no right to intrude. It was not for me, a mere governess, to set myself up as investigator.

The person in whom I might confide was Mrs. Polgrey, but again I shrank from doing this. I could not forget her spoonfuls of whisky and her attitude towards Gilly.

So I decided that for the time being I would keep my suspicions to myself. October was upon us. I found the changing seasons delightful in this part of the world. The to carry with it the scent of spices from Spain. I had never seen blustering southwest wind was warm and damp, and it seemed so many spiders’ webs as I did that October. They draped themselves over the hedges like gossamer cloth sewn with brilliants. When the sun came out it was almost as warm as June. ” Summer do go on a long time in Cornwall,” Tapperty told me.

The sea mist would come drifting in, wrapping itself about the grey stone of the house so that from the arbour in the south gardens it would sometimes be completely hidden. The gulls seemed to screech on a melancholy note on such days as though they were warning us that life was a sorrowful affair. And in the humid climate the hydrangeas continued to flower blue, pink and yellow in enormous masses of bloom such as I should not have expected to find outside a hothouse. The roses went on flowering, and with them the fuchsias.

When I went down to the village one day I saw a notice outside the church to the effect that the date of the horse show was fixed for the 1st of November.

I went back and told Alvean. I was delighted that she had lost none of her enthusiasm for the event. I had been afraid that, as the time grew near, her fear might have returned.

I said to her : ” There’s only three weeks. We really ought to get in a little more practice.”

She was quite agreeable.

We could, I suggested, rearrange our schedule. Perhaps we could ride for an hour both in the mornings and the afternoons.

She was eager. ” I’ll see what can be done,” I promised.

Connan TreMellyn had gone down to Penzance. I discovered this quite by accident. Kitty told me, when she brought in my water, one evening.

” Master have gone off this afternoon,” she said. “

“Tis thought he’ll be away for a week or more.”

” I hope he’s back in time for the show,” I said.

” Oh, he’ll be back for that. He be one of the Judges. He’m always here for that.”

I was annoyed with the man. Not that I expected him to tell me he was going; but I did feel he might have had the grace to say goodbye to his daughter.

I thought a good deal about him and I found myself wondering whether he had really gone to Penzance. I wondered whether Lady Treslyn was at home, or whether she had found it necessary to pay a visit to some relative.

Really! I admonished myself. ” Whatever has come over you? How can you entertain such thoughts? It’s not as though you have any proof!

I promised myself that while Connan TreMellyn was away there was no need to think of him, and that would be a relief.

I was not entirely lying about that. I did feel relaxed by the thought that he was out of the house. I no longer felt it necessary to lock my door; but I continued to do so, purely on account of the Tapperty girls. I did not want them to know that I locked it for fear of the Master and although they were quite without education, they were sharp enough where such matters were concerned.

” Now,” I said to Alvean, ” we will concentrate on practising for the show.”

I procured a list of the events. There were two jumping contests for Alvean’s age group, and I decided that she should take the elementary one, for I felt that she had a good chance of winning a pri2e in that;

and of course the whole point of this was that she should win a prize and astonish her father.

” Look, Miss,” said Alvean, ” there’s this one. Why don’t you go in for this?”

” Of course I shall do no such thing.”

“But why not?”

” My dear child, I am here to teach you, not to enter for competitions.

A mischievous look came into her eyes. ” Miss,” she said, ” I’m going to enter you for that. You’d win. There’s nobody here can ride as well as you do. Oh, Miss, you must!”

She was looking at me with what I construed as shy pride, and I felt a thrill of pleasure. I enjoyed her pride in me. She wanted me to win.

Well, why not? There was no rule about social standing in these contests, was there?

I fell back on my stock phrase for ending an embarrassing discussion:

” We’ll see,” I said.

One afternoon we were riding dose to Mount Widden and met Peter Nansellock.

He was mounted on a beautiful bay mare, the sight of which made my eyes glisten with envy.

He came galloping towards us and pulled up, dramatically removing his hat and bowing from the waist.

Alvean laughed delightedly.

” Well met, dear ladies,” he cried. ” Were you coming to call on us?”

” We were not,” I answered.

” How unkind! But now you are here you must come in for a little refreshment.”

I was about to protest when Alvean cried: ” Oh, do let’s, Miss. Yes, please, Uncle Peter, we’ll come in.”

” I had hoped you would call before this,” he said reproachfully.

” We had received no definite invitation,” I reminded him.

” For you there is always welcome at Mount Widden. Did I not make that dear?”

He had turned his mare and we all three walked our horses side by side. He followed my gaze, which was fixed on the mare.

” You like her?” he said.

” Indeed I do. She’s a beauty.”

” She’s a real beauty, are you not, Jadnth my pet?”

” Jadnth. So that’s her name.”

” Pretty, you’re thinking. Pretty name for a pretty creature. She’ll go like the wind. She’s worth four of that lumbering old cart horse you’re riding, Miss Leigh.”

” Lumbering old cart bourse? How absurd! Dion is a very fine horse.”

n “Was, Miss Leigh. Was! Do you not think that the creature has seen better days? Really, I should have thought Connan could have given you something better from his stables than poor old Dion.”

” It was not a matter of his giving her any horse to ride,” said Alvean in hot defence of her father. ” He does not know what horses we ride, does he. Miss. These are the horses which Tapperty said we could have.”

” Poor Miss Leigh! She should have a mount worthy of her. Miss Leigh, before you go, I would like you to take a turn on Jacinth. She’ll quickly show you what it feels like to be on a good mount again.” I ” Oh,” I said lightly, ” we’re satisfied with what we have. | They serve my purpose which is to teach Alvean to ride.” | ” We’re practising for the show,” Alvean told him. ” I’m j going in for one of the events, but don’t tell Papa; it’s to be . a surprise.”

Peter put his finger to his lips. ” Trust me. I’ll keep your secret.”

| ” And Miss is entering for one of the events too. I’ve made . her!”

” She’ll be victorious,” he cried. ” I’ll make a bet on it.”

I said curtly: ” I’m not at all sure about this. It is only an idea of Alvean’s.”

” But you must, Miss!” cried Alvean. ” I insist.”

” We’ll both insist,” added Peter.

We had reached the gates of Mount Widden which were wide open. There was no lodge here as at Mount Mellyn. We went up the drive where the same types of flowers grew in profusion the hydrangeas, fuchsias and fir trees which were indigenous to this part of the country.

I saw the house, grey stone as Mount Mellyn was, but much smaller and with fewer outbuildings. I noticed immediately that it was not so well cared for as what in that moment I presumptuously called ” our ” house and I felt an absurd thrill of pleasure because Mount Mellyn compared so favourably with Mount Widden.

There was a groom in the stables and Peter told him to take charge of our horses. He did so and we went into the house.

) Peter clapped his hands and shouted: ” Dick! Where are you, Dick?”

The houseboy, whom I had seen when he had been sent over to Mount Mellyn with messages, appeared; and Peter said to him : ” Tea, Dick.

At once, in the library. We have guests. “

” Yes, Master,” said Dick and hurried away.

We were in a hall which seemed quite modern when compared with our own hall. The floor was tessellated and there was a wide staircase at one end of it which led to a gallery containing oil paintings, presumably of the Nansellock family.

I laughed at myself for scorning the place, which was very much larger and much grander than the vicarage in which I had spent my childhood.

But it had a neglected air—one might almost say one of decay.

Peter took us into the library, a huge room, the walls of which were lined with books on three sides. I noticed that the furniture was dusty and that dirt was visible in the heavy curtains. What they need, I thought, is a Mrs. Polgrey with her beeswax and turpentine.

” I pray you sit down, dear ladies,” said Peter. ” It is to be hoped that tea will not long be delayed, although I must warn you that meals are not served with the precision which prevails in our rival across the cove.”

” Rival?” I said in surprise.

” Well, how could there fail to be a little rivalry? Here we stand, side by side. But the advantages are all with them. They have the grander house, and the servants to deal with it. Your father, dear Alvean, is a man of property. We Nansellocks are his poor relations.”