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Authors: Victoria Holt

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General, #Man-woman relationships, #Mystery & Detective

The Captive (34 page)

BOOK: The Captive
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I must cultivate the acquaintance of the Major.

I believed it had been a profitable afternoon.

 

The Sailor’s Grave

The visit to the Major appeared to have been a great success in more ways than one. Kate became more friendly. I had liked the Major and she had made up her mind that the Major liked me; and as he was a hero in her eyes, I rose considerably in her estimation.

She talked of him freely, telling me of the wonderful adventures he had had, how he had fought battles singlehanded and was solely responsible for the success of the British Empire. Kate could never do or think anything halfheartedly.

But I was delighted by the growing friendship between us.

Lessons had become quite painless. It had been a wise stroke to introduce her to books with a good strong narrative. We had almost finished Treasure Island and The Count of Monte Cristo was lying in wait for us.

I used the books blatantly as a sort of unconscious bribe.

“Well, I know these sums are a little difficult, but when we get them right, we’ll see what’s going to happen to Ben Gunn.”

My success with her amazed me as much as everyone else. I was beginning to see that Kate was more than a rebellious girl bent on making trouble. I supposed there were reasons behind everything. And I was determined to discover more about her.

Through all this I did not forget for one moment the reason why I was here. I wished I could see the Major alone. It would be difficult to ask leading questions in Kate’s

 

presence. She was already a little suspicious because of my intense interest in the murder. I could not call on the Major, of course.

Perhaps, I told myself, the opportunity would come and when it did I must be ready to seize it.

I had always known that Kate had an interest in the morbid, so I was not particularly surprised when I discovered what a fascination the graveyard seemed to have for her.

The church was an ancient one, famed for its Norman architecture. It was not far from Perrivale Court and we often passed it.

“Just imagine,” I said as we rode up to it.

“It was built all those years ago … about eight hundred years.”

We were, as Kate said, ‘doing’ William the Conqueror, and she was getting quite an interest in him since learning of the particular manner in which he had wooed his wife Matilda by beating her in the streets. Such incidents de lighted Kate and I found myself stressing them whenever I found them, to stimulate her interest.

“He built a lot of places here,” she said.

“Castles and churches and things. And all those people in the graveyard … some of them must have been there for hundreds of years.”

“Trust you to think of that instead of the beautiful Nor man arches and towers. The church is really interesting.”

“Let’s go in,” she said.

We tied up the horses and did so. The hushed atmosphere subdued her a little. We studied the list of vicars which dated back a long way.

“There’s a wonderful feeling of antiquity,” I said.

“I don’t think you get that anywhere as much as you do in a church.”

“Perrivale’s very old.”

“Yes, but there are people there. Modernity creeps in.”

“Let’s go into the graveyard.”

We came out and were immediately among the tottering gravestones.

 

“I’ll show you the Perrivale vault if you like.”

“Yes. I’d like to see it.”

We stood before it. It was ornate and imposing.

“I wonder how many are buried there,” said Kate.

“Quite a number, I suppose.”

“Cosmo will be there. I wonder if he comes out at night. I’ll bet he does.”

“How your mind dwells on the macabre.”

“What’s macabre?”

I explained.

“Well,” she said.

“That’s what makes graveyards interesting. If they weren’t full of dead people it would be just like anywhere else. It’s the dead who are ghosts. You can’t be one until you are dead. Come on.

I want to show you something. “

“Another grave?”

She ran ahead and I followed her. She had come to a standstill before one of the graves. There was nothing ornate about this one-no engraved stone, no ornamental angels or cherubs, no fond message. Just a plain stone with the words “Thomas Parry’ and the date. A rough kerb had been put round it to separate it from the others and on it was a jam-jar containing a few sprigs of meadowsweet which looked as though they had been picked from the hedges.

“Who was he?” I asked.

“And why are you so interested in this grave?”

She said: “He was the one who fell over the cliff and was drowned.”

“Oh … I remember. You did mention him.”

“They said he was drunk.”

“Well, I suppose he was. I wonder who put those flowers there. Someone must have thought of him. Someone must remember him.”

She did not speak.

“Who was he?” I asked.

“Did you ever know?”

zyz

 

“He didn’t live here. He just came here and went over the cliff.”

“How foolish of him to get so drunk that he did such a thing.”

“Perhaps someone pushed him over.”

“But you say he was drunk …”

“Well, someone could. I reckon he walks by night. He gets out of his grave and walks about the graveyard talking about murder.”

I laughed at her. She turned to me and her face was serious.

Then she shrugged her shoulders and started to walk away. I followed her, turning once to look at the pathetic grave, un cared for but for a jam-jar filled with meadowsweet.

Dick Duvane rode over from Trecorn Manor. He had brought letters for me together with a note from Lucas.

He said he would wait for a reply.

The letters were from London-one from my father and the other from Aunt Maud.

I opened Lucas’s note.

Dear Rosetta, How are you getting on in the governess role? Aren’t you tired of it yet? Say so and I will come over and fetch you. In any case, I must see you. Could we meet tomorrow afternoon? We could see each other at The Sailor King. Should we meet there or would it be all right for me to come to the house? I could bring a horse for you. I want to talk.

Always devoted to your interests, Lucas

I remembered my interview with Lady Perrivale who had said I might be free to take time off when I wanted to. So I

 

wrote a hasty note telling Lucas that I would meet him at The Sailor King the following afternoon at half past two.

Then I took the letters to my room to read them. They were both as I expected. My father’s was rather stilted. He could not understand why I had thought it necessary to take a post. If I had wanted some work he could have found something congenial for me, perhaps at the Museum.

He hoped that I would soon be home and we could talk about what I wanted to do.

I could not imagine myself explaining to my father. I was sorry for him. I guessed Aunt Maud had urged him to write in a disapproving manner.

There was no doubt of her feelings.

My dear Rosetta, How could you ? A governess! What are you thinking of? I know some poor females are forced into such a position but such is not the case with you. If you take my advice you will give up this nonsense without more ado. Do so quickly. People need never know . or if it came out it would be called a mad prank. Of course, the ideal thing would be a London season for you, but you know that is out of the question. But you are the daughter of a professor, a highly respected man in academic circles. You would have had your chances . but a governess! It went on in this strain for several pages through which I lightly skimmed. The reaction was so much what I had expected that it left me unmoved.

I was far more interested in my coming meeting with Lucas.

I told Kate the following afternoon that I was meeting a friend.

“Can I come?”

“Oh no.”

Why not? “

 

2. “Because you are not invited.”

“What shall I do while you are gone?”

“You’ll amuse yourself.”

“But I want to come.”

“Not this time?”

“Next time?”

“The future’s not ours to see.”

“You are the most maddening governess.”

“Then I match my pupil.”

She laughed. We had indeed come a long way in the short time I had been here. There was a rapport between us which I would not have dreamed was possible.

She was resigned though disgruntled. She referred once to my desertion.

“I’ve shown you things,” she grumbled.

“I showed you Gramps and the grave.”

“Both suggested by you. I did not ask. Besides, people have a private side to their lives.”

“And this one you’re meeting is in your private life?”

“As you have never met him , .. yes.”

“I will,” she said threateningly.

“You may … perhaps ..” one day. “

She would have liked to make a scene but she dared not. I knew that her life had changed since I had come and it was due to me. She looked upon me, in a way, as her protegee. She enjoyed being with me, which was why she was making such a fuss because I was leaving for a few hours; but there was a real fear, which I had managed to inst il in her, that I might leave altogether; and that’re strained her.

In my room that night I looked over the last days and thought how far I had come, though not, alas, in my main project. That had remained more or less static but in my new life as governess to Kate Blanchard I had progressed amazingly. True, I had met people who had been close to the

scene of the murder, and that gave me hopes of coming on some discovery. I needed time to talk to them, to get to know them, and I must do this in a natural manner . so that they did not guess my real motive.

I wished I could find out something about Mirabel’s first husband, Mr. Blanchard. What could he have been like? When had he died? How long was it after that when she came down to Cornwall with her father and her daughter? They could not have been very well off, for the cottage was quite a humble dwelling . at least in comparison with Perrivale Court and the Dower House.

Idle curiosity, perhaps. But not entirely. Mirabel was one of the chief actors in the drama, and it would be advantageous to know as much of her as possible.

Then I was thinking of Lucas, remembering with a certain tenderness his proposal. I felt a great longing to tell him why I was at Perrivale and I knew that when I was with him that longing would be intensified.

I sat at my window looking at those across the courtyard. I was trying to persuade myself that Lucas would be a help to me. What a relief it would be to share this with him. He cared for me . next to himself.

I smiled, remembering his words.

If I made him swear not to betray Simon . was it possible?

I must not yet, I told myself. It was not my secret. Simon had told me because it had seemed possible that we might never get off the island and he had felt it necessary to confide in someone. Besides, there was a special relationship between us. I had been aware of that as he had.

Suddenly my eyes were caught by a light in one of the windows opposite. It was faint . from a candle, I imagined. It flickered and then was gone.

I was startled. I was remembering a conversation I had had with Kate some days ago. We had been standing at my window and we had looked out across the courtyard.

“Whose rooms are those over there?” I had asked.

 

The one next to the top floor, do you mean? Do you see something special there? “

“No. Should I?”

“I wondered if you’d seen Stepper’s father’s ghost.”

“Your preoccupation with ghosts is becoming quite a mania.”

“It’s like that in big houses, especially when there’s been a murder.

That’s Stepper’s father’s bedroom over there. Nobody goes in there much now. “

“Why not?”

“Well, because he died there. My mother says you have to show respect.”

“Respect?”

“Well, he died there.”

“Someone must go in to clean it.”

“I expect so. Anyway, no one goes there … except Stepper’s mother’s up there with Maria. They stay there most of the time.”

“Maria?”

“Her maid. I reckon it’s haunted. Sir Edward died there.”

I thought it was just another instance of Kate’s preoccupation and forgot about it. Yet when I saw the light a faint shiver ran down my spine.

I laughed at myself. Kate was affecting me with her obsession.

As she would have said, it was because there had been a murder connected with the house.

She was right. It was because of that murder that I was here.

Lucas was in The Sailor King waiting for me, and I felt extraordinarily happy to see him.

He stood up and took both my hands in his. We looked searchingly at each other for a few seconds, then he kissed my cheek.

 

“Governessing suits you,” he said.

“Well, sit down. How is it going?

I’ve ordered cider. It’s too early for tea, don’t you think? “

I agreed.

“So they allow you a horse to ride, do they?”

I nodded.

“They are most gracious.”

“And the pupil?”

“I’m getting her tamed.”

“You do look proud of yourself.”

“Lucas, how are they at the Manor? The children … ?”

“Very hurt by your desertion.”

“Oh, not really.”

“Yes, really. They ask for you twenty times a day. When is she coming back? I’m going to ask the same question.”

“Not just yet, Lucas.”

“What satisfaction do you get out of it?”

“I can’t explain, Lucas. I wish I could.”

I could feel confession trembling on my lips. But it is not your secret, I kept reminding myself.

“A governess! It’s the last thing …”

“I have had letters from home.”

“Aunt Maud?”

I nodded.

“And my father.”

“Good old Aunt Maud!”

“Lucas … please understand.”

“I’m trying to.”

The cider was brought and for a few seconds we were silent. Then he said: “You and I went through an extraordinary experience, Rosetta. It was bound to do something to us. Look at us. It has made you into a governess and me into a cripple.”

BOOK: The Captive
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