The Dark Stranger (5 page)

Tina lay back in the bed, biting her
li
p, and pulled the sheet close up under her chin. Suddenly she hated Tremawvan and everything to do with the Pentreaths.

“
I
’
m not a schoolgirl any more,
”
she said in a voice which trembled a little
“
And as for rich Cousin
Craig
—I don
’
t think I even like him very much.
”

“
I didn
’
t suppose you would,
”
said Belle blandly.
“
Good night, my dear.
”

She forgot, as often happened, the good night kiss, and turning out the lamp with a firm finger and thumb, went away, leaving Tina in the darkness.

III

Breakfast was finished by the time Tina and her stepmother came down. Only Brownie sat at the big mahogany table, reading the mor
n
ing paper and sipping a final cup of tea. Craig Pentreath had already left the house.

“
Breakfast
’
s at eight sharp,
”
Brownie remarked without troubling to inquire how Belle had slept.
“
Craig
’
s away to the cannery before nine so if you want your victuals hot you
’
d best be punctual.
”

“
Good morning, Brownie, how fierce you sound,
”
said Belle lightly.
“
Breakfast is a movable feast, surely? One has it when one likes.
”

“I
n this house you have it when it
’
s ready or not at all,
”
Brownie retorted.
“
Please yourself.
”

Belle gave her an amused glance.

“
We
’
ll have to alter that,
”
she said. She helped herself with a grimace of distaste to some congealed bacon, then pushed away her plate and reached for the toast.
“T
ina can keep your uncivilized hours but I
think
I
’
ll have a tray brought up to my room.
”

“
Making extra work already
?
”
observed Brownie unpleasantly.
“
Tremawvan is a plain house. We don
’
t
have trays sent to the bedrooms unless we are ill. You may pour the tea for Belle and yourself, Tina. When you
’
ve finished, Belle, perhaps you
’
ll be good enough to join me in the stillroom and I
’
ll show you your duties.
”

Belle
’
s eyebrows rose as the door closed behind her and she remarked tartly:

“
She
’
s more impossible than ever. If I have to put up with too much from Brownie I don
’
t see us remaining at Tremawvan very long.
”

“
She probably resents you, Belle,
”
Tina said shyly.
“
If she
’
s kept house here for so many years, she
’
s bound to
have
—private feelings.
”

“
Oh, well—she
’
ll learn. You
’
d better offer to make yourself useful, Tina. There
’
s nothing like creating a good impression to begin with.
”

She picked up the newspaper which Brownie had discarded and skimmed idly through it.

Tina ate slowly, gazing dreamily out of the open window opposite her. The high wind of the night before had dropped and sunshine flooded the country. Tina wanted to explore the garden. It stretched away invitingly beyond the raised stone terrace and she could see great splashes of color where rhododendron and azalea grew in thick profusion. She was glad that Cousin Craig had already gone. She did not yet know whether she was going to like or dislike him, not, she reminded herself remembering Belle
’
s strictures, that it would make any difference which she did, but she fancied he might be an uncomfortable person to live with, seeing too much and possibly caring too little.

“
What shall I do?
”
she asked as Belle threw down the newspaper and got to her feet, lighting a cigarette.

“
Do?
”
Belle frowned.
“
What you like, of course, only don
’
t expect me to amuse you.
”

“
I didn
’
t mean that, but you said I should make myself useful and I wondered what I could do.
”

“
Oh, Brownie will find you something. In the meantime you
’
d better get out of the way. I expect the maids want to clear and I must go along and have my chat with Brownie and find out what the so-called duties involve.
”

She left the room, flicking cigarette ash carelessly on the
floor as she went, and Tina picked up her last piece of toast and marmalade and stepped out of the long
window.

It was a man
’
s garden, orderly and a little impersonal, she thought, surveying it with curious eyes. There were few flowers and the well-kept lawns were dissected by neat alley-ways of flowering shrubs and the tall thickets of giant rhododendrons which made perpetual groves of dimness in the sunlight. Every so often she came upon one of the statues which had so much offended Belle
’
s good taste. Tina had to admit that they were not beautiful and seemed to be a curious mixture of mythology and Victorian gentility. There was Thor with his hammer aimed at a simpering nymph with a broken nose, there was Venus turning a well-muscled back on a gir
lish
looking shepherd. There were cupids and satyrs and female figures tactfully draped, and even amidst the tropical palms and ferns which grew in such abundance, stone fauns held Pan-pipes to their lips, half lost in the encroaching vegetation.

Tina saw no one but an old man weeding a path who took no notice of her when she said good morning, and she walked back to the house, conscious suddenly of the isolation of the place. Beyond the exposed grassland, too rough and treeless to be called a park, the lonely road stretched like a narrow ribbon across country that was bare and windswept and bereft of habitation, and Tremawvan itself stood implacable and indifferent to the elements, a grey facade of slate and stone and supporting Corinthian pillars.

“
How many rooms has Tremawvan?
”
Tina asked Brownie at lunch.

“
More than you need ever see the inside of,
”
was the uncompromising reply.

“B
rownie means,
”
observed Belle with a hint of malice,
“
that you mustn
’
t go poking your inquisitive nose into the secrets of Tremawvan as though you belonged here.
”

“
Tremawvan has no secrets,
”
said Brownie.
“
Tina is welcome to the run of the house so long as she respects the privacy of certain rooms.
”

“
I don
’
t think even Tina would go bursting unannounced into Craig
’
s bedroom,
”
said Belle with her twisted little smile.

Brownie glimpsed the discomfort in Tina
’
s face, and, ignoring Belle, said unexpectedly:

“
Come, Tina, I
’
ll show you the house.
”

They went from room to room, the elderly woman and the young girl. The house was very silent save for the ticking of a multitude of clocks and the sound of their own footsteps on the flags. Brownie opened doors saying briefly:
“
This is the book-room—library you
’
d call it if the classics were complete
...
here
’
s the parlor, though no doubt Belle would say mo
rni
ng-room; we take breakfast here in the winter for warmth
...
the gun-room used to be the boys
’
den and Craig still likes to smoke a pipe there
...
the living-room you saw last night—no doubt it should be the drawing-room but this is a man
’
s house
...
here
’
s Craig
’
s study in the new wing, but you
’
ll keep clear of that and Belle, too. A man must have a place of his own
...”

Upstairs there were a number of guest rooms, sheeted and clearly seldom used, Brownie
’
s own little suite which she had occupied for thirty years, and at the end of a corridor away from all the others, Craig
’
s large bedroom which had once been his father
’
s.

The kitchen quarters, Brownie said, need be no concern of Tina
’
s, but should she wish to speak to any of the servants she had only to ring the brass bell by the baize door at the back of the hall and someone would come.

“
Belle said I should make myself useful,
”
Tina ventured when they had returned to the hall.
“
What could I do, Miss Brownie?
”

“
Just call me Brownie like everyone else. Can you da
rn
linen neatly?
”

“
I—I
’
m afraid not. You see we
’
ve lived in hotels for so long.
”

“
H
’
m. Can you do patchwork, or embroidery, or make butter? Jessie Pentreath, Craig
’
s mother, did beautiful tapestry work, but young girls today aren
’
t taught the graces. Well, we
’
ll think of something to occupy you, but today get out in the sunshine and find your way about.
Craig said this morning he thought you needed to play, so go and do it.
”

Tina looked surprised.

“
Cousin Craig said that?
”

“
Why not? He
’
s not so old.
”

“
Oh, I didn
’
t mean
—”

Brownie
’
s face twitched with the beginnings of a smile.
“
Take yourself off and stop wasting my time,
”
she said.
“
Tea at five o
’
clock. No one will wait for you.
”

Left alone, Tina stood in the hall with closed eyes, listening to the clocks ticking and memorizing the different rooms, remembering their salient features; the masculine severity of the book-room with its ugly pitch pine shelves and faded rows of volumes, the tapestry seats of the stiff little chairs in the living room, worked perhaps by Jessie Pentreath, the old prints in the gunroom and the ancient weapons hanging over the fireplace, the Chinese carpet of surprising beauty which covered the parlor floor. Belle had described the house as a hopeless mixture of good and bad taste, but Tina did not think so. She had too little knowledge to discriminate, but she liked the old
-
fashioned solidity of well-waxed furniture and tapestry hangings, the flagged floors and high, bare walls and the lamplight which cast such unfamiliar shadows. Clocks all over the house began to strike the hour and with a quick sense of trespass, Tina ran out into the garden.

She walked as far as the road down the straight, treeless drive, its grass verge marked by whitewashed stones, and climbed on to the high bank bordering the grounds to get a better view of the country. No other house was visible even from this village, but away in the distance over the brow of the next hill, Tina could glimpse the sea, a shimmering streak of horizon looking very far away. Rough tracts of moorland lay above the sloping fields which were divided one from the other by low stone walls and no life seemed to stir in the quiet afternoon.

She retraced her steps, returning this time by way of the rough grass land which formed the boundary of the grounds. A sunk fence divided the fields from lawns and shrubberies, and quite suddenly, Tina came upon a little clearing with a stone summerhouse fashioned like a Greek
temple and a magnolia tree of astonishing beauty growing beside it. She stood in the long grass wondering at the faint air of neglect the place bore. Clearly no one ever came here, for birds sang undisturbed by her intrusion. The little temple was moss-grown and some of its pillars were broken, and the clearing in which it stood had become a wilderness of fern and bracken. The branches of the tree, so heavily laden with blossom that they bowed to the ground, had already become entwined with plinth and column and fallen petals carpeted the broken steps.

“
Oh!
”
Tina cried aloud, and ran with outstretched hands to grasp the delicate blossom. This shall be my own place, she thought, touching the sunwarmed stone with loving fingers, then reaching up again and again to stroke the creamy petals so miraculously flushed with the warmth of living flesh.

“
Very charming,
”
said Craig
’
s voice on a dry note of amusement, and turning with startled swiftness, she saw him standing watching her at the edge of the clearing.

“
I—I never heard you,
”
she said lamely, still clinging to the stone column, uncertain now whether this was perhaps another place where he would not care for her to trespass.

“
Shouldn
’
t I be here?
”
she asked and he looked surprised.

“
I can
’
t think of any reason why you shouldn
’
t except that at this particular moment we
’
re half-way through tea. I came to look for you.
”

“
Oh! I
’
m sorry,
”
she said, abashed.
“
You shouldn
’
t have troubled. Brownie told me that no one would wait.
”

“
Well, no one has, but I expect you
’
d like some tea all the same.
”

“
Yes,
”
she said and realized she was hungry.
“
How nice to be able to come in to all meals.
”