Victoria Holt (18 page)

“It is because they get into one’s hair and are said to be verminous.”

“They wouldn’t hurt you if you didn’t hurt them. Oh…here he is again. It must be the same one. You’re looking really alarmed. I think you believe they are messengers from the Devil. You do, don’t you? You think I have summoned them up to do my bidding.”

“I know them for bats,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean I like them.”

I was saying to myself: I must go in, but there was something in me pleading for a little longer. I wanted to stay out in this magic night and learn more about this man, for he was revealing a great deal about himself. I had thought of him as brash and arrogant. He was; but there was something else about him—a sadness, even a vulnerability, something which touched me in a way.

And then…suddenly we were no longer alone. She came into the courtyard. She was dressed in a riding habit and was bareheaded; her beautiful reddish hair was caught up in a kind of snood.

I recognized her at once.

“Jason!” she cried in a strangled voice which conveyed sadness, despair and acute melancholy.

He rose to his feet. I could see that he was very angry.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

She flinched and stood back a little; her very white hands on which she wore several rings were crossed over her breast, which heaved with emotion.

She said: “I heard there was an accident. I thought it might be you, Jason. I have been frantic with anxiety.”

She looked magnificent and yet she managed to be pathetic at the same time. I believed I was looking at the one-time cherished mistress who could no longer please as she once had, was aware of it and heart-broken because of it.

He said in a low voice: “I must introduce you to Miss Grant, who is from the girls’ Academy.”

“We have already met,” I said. “And you must excuse me. I must go to see Teresa.” I looked straight at Marcia Martindale. who seemed to express anguish, sorrow and despair all at the same time. “One of our girls had a fall from her horse. That is why I am here. She is asleep in this house and I am here to look after her.”

I saw the look of relief on the woman’s face. It was certainly the most expressive face I had ever seen. Her feelings were there for everyone to see.

“I trust…” she began.

“Oh, it is nothing much,” I said quickly. “The doctor was afraid of concussion and it was thought better to keep her here overnight. Mrs. Keel is watching over her until I go up. Well, good night and thank you, Sir Jason, for your hospitality.”

I hurried out of the courtyard and went into the house, trying to find my way to the blue room. My exhilaration of a short time ago had sunk to depression.

What had happened to me in the courtyard? There had been some enchantment about the night. It was the darkness, the food, the wine…his personality, my inexperience perhaps…his conversation which I found stimulating. I must have been completely bemused to imagine for a moment that he was not the man I knew him to be from all that I had heard about him.

He now had to face the mistress whom he had deserted for an evening’s adventure with someone who was new to him.

It was just what I would expect of him!

She had shattered something, that woman. It was just as well for she had brought me back to reality. I hoped I had not been too indiscreet and tried to remember what I had said. How had he managed to carry me along with him? I had almost begun to like him.

I saw a maid on the stairs and asked her to show me the way to the blue room, which she did.

Mrs. Keel rose from her chair as I entered.

“She’s fast asleep. Hasn’t stirred the whole time,” she said. “Are you staying here now?”

“Yes,” I said. “I shall sleep on one side of the bed. It’s big enough. I shan’t disturb her and if she wakes I shall be there.”

“That’s right,” said Mrs. Keel. “Well, I’ll say good night.”

She shut the door quietly. I still felt bemused. It was the food and wine, I told myself. It had nothing to do with him.

There was a key in the door.

I turned it, locking myself in with Teresa.

I felt secure then. Tomorrow if Teresa was well enough—and I knew she would be—we would go back to the school and I, no less than Teresa, would have to forget about our little adventure.

***

I lay beside Teresa, but sleep was elusive. I felt stimulated and excited and was wondering what Sir Jason and Marcia Martindale were saying to each other down there. I could imagine the recriminations. I should like her to know that there was no need for her to lose any sleep on my account. I was not the sort to be taken in by a plausible philanderer. Yet while I was talking to him—although I had been wary and believed that I could see through him with the utmost ease—I had to admit that I had been a trifle fascinated. He was blasé, ruthless, what would be called “a man of the world,” and I realized—and so did he—that I had had little experience of such people. There had been no doubt that he was stressing his interest in me. But innocent as I might be I was fully aware that a man like Jason Verringer would be interested in that certain way in many women at the same time.

How foolish I had been to think—just for a short while—that he had a special feeling for me. What struck me as so very strange was that I should have told him about my adventure with the man in the forest when I had not even talked to Aunt Patty about that. It had been because we had been sitting there while it grew darker and darker and the bats flew overhead. If it had been broad daylight, I should never have talked as I did.

Well, it was over. It had come to an abrupt ending with the dramatic appearance of his mistress.

Forget the man, said my common sense. Go to sleep.

I closed my eyes and tried. I had locked the door because I had a suspicion that he might come into the bedroom perhaps on a pretext of explaining Marcia Martindale’s sudden appearance. But Teresa was here…a sleeping chaperone. The door was locked and she lay beside me in her sedated sleep.

At last I dozed.

When I awoke it was dark. I could not remember where I was for some moments, then memory came flooding back.

“Teresa!” I said softly.

“Yes, Miss Grant.”

“So you’re awake.” I sensed her anxiety and I went on: “You’re not badly hurt, Teresa. You’re going to be walking round normally in a day or two.”

“I know.”

“Well then, just try to go to sleep. It’s the middle of the night. There’s nothing to worry about. We shall stay here until the morning and then Emmet will come to collect us.”

She said: “I wish it wasn’t summer.”

“Why ever not! Why, it’s the best time of the year. Think of the lovely sunshine, the walks, the picnics, the holidays…”

I stopped. How foolish of me, how tactless.

There was a brief silence and I went on: “Teresa, what shall you do during the summer holidays?”

“I shall stay at school.” Her voice sounded utterly dreary. “I suppose Miss Hetherington will have to let me, but it is a nuisance for her. I’m the only one.”

A sudden impulse came to me and I said: “Teresa, suppose…just suppose…it were possible for me to take you home with me for the holidays.”

“Miss Grant!”

“Well, I suppose I could. Aunt Patty would be all right…and Violet. I’d have to get Miss Hetherington’s permission.”

“Oh, Miss Grant…I’d see Aunt Patty and Violet’s bees. Oh, Miss Grant. I want to come…so much.”

I stared into the darkness. Perhaps I should have thought about it more carefully before mentioning it. But, poor Teresa. She was so miserable and in such a low state after the accident. I had had to make the suggestion, and the more I thought of it the better it seemed. Teresa would not go to sleep now. She wanted to talk about Aunt Patty and her home in the country.

“I don’t know much about it myself yet. I haven’t been there when it was a home. It has always been an empty house to me. They only moved in when I came to Colby so I only know about it from Aunt Patty’s letters.”

“Tell me about Aunt Patty. Tell me about how she came to meet you from Africa in that hat with the feather.”

So I told her, as I had told her before, and I heard her laugh contentedly beside me, and I knew that the prospect of the summer holiday was doing more to restore her than anything else could have done.

***

The next day Emmet arrived to take us back to the school. Mrs. Keel saw us off with two of the servants and as we were about to get into the carriage Sir Jason appeared.

I said: “Thank you for your hospitality. Teresa, please thank Sir Jason.”

“Thank you,” said Teresa obediently, her eyes still shining with anticipation of the summer holidays.

“It was a great pleasure,” he said. “I so much enjoyed our dinner.”

“A culinary masterpiece,” I replied. “Again thank you and everyone concerned. Come along, Teresa.”

“I trust we shall meet again soon,” he said looking at me.

I smiled vaguely and settled Teresa, taking my seat beside her. Emmet whipped up the horse and we moved away. Sir Jason was looking straight at me rather pleadingly, I thought, and again I felt a twinge of that pity for him which would, I am sure, have amused him, had he known of it.

Daisy Hetherington was waiting to receive us. She greeted me and her eyes went immediately to Teresa.

“You look none the worse for your adventure,” she said. “Come along in. What does the doctor say, Miss Grant? Is Teresa to rest for a while?”

“Yes, for today. I will take her to her room. She should rest in bed for today and tomorrow we will see.”

“When you have dealt with her, come to my sitting room, Miss Grant. I want to talk to you.”

“Certainly,” I replied.

I took Teresa to her room and helped her to bed.

“Will you ask Miss Hetherington now?” she whispered conspiratorially.

“Yes,” I said. “At the first opportunity.”

“And will you let me know…at once?”

“I promise.”

I saw Charlotte and the Verringer girls on my way to Miss Hetherington.

I said to them: “Teresa is back. She may be a little shocked. I want you all to be very careful. Don’t refer to the mishap unless she does. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Miss Grant. Yes, Miss Grant. Yes, Miss Grant.”

There was even an understanding affirmative from Charlotte. That little bit of authority had worked wonders.

“You three ride very well,” I went on. “You happen to be especially good horsewomen.” I was looking at Charlotte, who turned pink with pleasure. “You must understand that everyone cannot be as good. Their talents might lie in other directions.”

I passed on. I did not think Charlotte would taunt Teresa with cowardice if she refused to ride for a while. I really did believe that I had got through to her because of her love of horses—in a small way perhaps, but it was a beginning. I fell to thinking then that many people behaved badly through a desire to assert themselves, and when their success was acknowledged there ceased to be that necessity. It was a point I should like to discuss. Certainly not with Daisy Hetherington but with Eileen Eccles, Aunt Patty…and it might be interesting to hear Sir Jason’s views.

Daisy was waiting for me.

“Oh, Miss Grant, sit down. What an unfortunate thing to happen! And there of all places…”

“It was better than happening in the isolated country,” I reminded her. “At least we got Teresa attended to very quickly.”

“I gather it is only bruises.”

“No bones were broken. She was lucky. Of course she is shocked.”

“Sometimes I wish I had never taken Teresa Hurst.”

“She is a very pleasant girl.”

“She seems to have some fixation for you, Cordelia. Be careful. These obsessions can become tiresome.”

“The fact with Teresa is that she is lonely. She feels unwanted because of her home situation. By the way, she is very depressed about the summer holidays and I, rather rashly I’m afraid, promised to take her home with me if all were agreeable.”

“Take her home!” cried Daisy. “My dear Cordelia!”

“It seemed a good idea in the middle of the night when the poor child was so depressed, and after that had happened I promised…”

Daisy smiled slowly. “It was extremely good of you and I am sure Patience would raise no objections.”

“Then I have your permission?”

“My dear Cordelia, nothing would please me better than to have the child somewhere else for the summer holidays. It is an added burden when they stay at school…and not worth the price they pay for it. Imagine…the child here all that time and no others of her age. And a responsibility. As far as I am concerned I would give a whole-hearted Yes. There are the parents.”

“They are in Rhodesia.”

“I am thinking of the guardians here. The cousins…I will write to them and ask for their permission for Teresa to stay with you. I will tell them that your aunt with whom you will be staying is an old friend of mine and I can vouch for Teresa’s being in the best possible place since she cannot be with her own parents.”

“Oh thank you, Miss Hetherington. Would you mind if I went to tell Teresa right away? She is so anxious.”

“Yes. And there is one other thing, Cordelia. I was uneasy about your spending a night at the Hall.”

“I know you were and it was good of you to be concerned.”

“I feel as responsible for my staff as I do for my girls…Did you dine with Sir Jason?”

“Yes.”

“He has a reputation for being rather…free with women.”

“I can well imagine that.”

“I hope he was in no way offensive.”

“No. As a matter of fact after dinner Mrs. Martindale called. I left them and went to Teresa to relieve Mrs. Keel who had kindly offered to keep vigil while I ate.”

Daisy was obviously relieved.

I went straight to Teresa.

“The first hurdle is over,” I said. “Miss Hetherington gives her whole-hearted consent. There now remain the cousins. She will write to them today.”

“They will say Yes Please. We have nothing to fear from them. Oh, Miss Grant, I am going to spend my summer holidays with you and Aunt Patty!”

We had heard from the cousins and they were delighted with the arrangements and expressed assurance that as Miss Grant was so highly recommended by Miss Hetherington, she would take good care of Teresa.

“As if they cared,” said Daisy. “You can read the relief oozing out of their words.”

Aunt Patty wrote that she thought it was an admirable suggestion and Teresa could have the room next to mine. She had made curtains of sprigged muslin—delphinium blue in color—and a bedspread to match. Very pretty but Violet said they wouldn’t stand up to the wash. Trust Violet! She could not wait to meet us at the station.

I showed the letter to Teresa, who from then on dreamed of a room with delphinium blue sprigged muslin curtains.

She had not mounted a horse since her accident. The general opinion was that she should, but I told Miss Hetherington that she had had a great shock and that she was seized with trembling every time the subject was broached, and we did not yet know the full effects of her fall. So we decided that we would let Teresa have her way.

Charlotte and her cronies did not taunt her as I feared they would. It might have been that my words had had some effect on them or perhaps they were too excited about the coming break.

I saw nothing of Sir Jason. I heard that he had gone to London and I began to realize that there had been nothing of any great significance in our encounter. He had been ready to turn it into what he would call an adventure—just a lighthearted passing affaire; and as I had not responded with enthusiasm, he, preferring easier conquests, had not thought it worthwhile to pursue the project. I was ashamed of myself for thinking so much about him. I must stop thinking of it. I must dismiss the incident in the courtyard as I had tried to in the case of my encounter with the stranger in the forest. One had to accept people’s idiosyncrasies and try not to find a reason for them when it was quite impossible to know what was going on in other people’s minds. As for allowing oneself to be disturbed—even faintly—by a man of Jason Verringer’s reputation, that was the utmost folly. I would proceed to forget all about him.

The rest of the term slipped by and as soon as we were in July the girls talked of little else but the coming summer holidays—the longest of the year and the most looked forward to.

The day came when we steamed into the station and there was Aunt Patty with a biscuit-colored creation covered by blue-and-yellow flowers perched on her head. I watched Teresa’s eyes shine with excitement, and I knew that Aunt Patty was going to live up to my picture of her.

“Oh there you are.” I was held in that lavender-scented embrace which brought back memories. “And this is Teresa.”

Teresa was swallowed in Aunt Patty’s embrace.

“Well, here we are in Moldenbury. Violet’s in the dog cart. She wouldn’t leave the horse. Tom will take your bags. Here you are, Tom,” she said to the railway porter. I couldn’t help smiling. It was typical of Aunt Patty to be on friendly terms with everyone in record time and she seemed as at home here as she had at Grantley. “Here we are. Vi. Vi. You can leave the horse and come and greet our girls.”

Violet looked just the same as ever, with her brown hair escaping from a brown hat which looked more somber than it actually was in comparison with Aunt Patty’s glory.

“The girls are here, Violet. This is Teresa.”

“Hello, Teresa,” said Violet as though she had known her all her life. “And Cordelia.” We embraced rather emotionally. I was very fond of Violet and I knew she was of me.

Violet drove the dog cart and Teresa and I sat opposite Aunt Patty as we jolted along the lanes.

Aunt Patty talked all the time. “You’ll love the house. Not Grantley, of course. We had a big house before we came here, Teresa. It seems such a change, but for the better. There’s something about small houses…they’re warm and cozy. Do you remember how the wind used to whistle through those windows at Grantley, Cordelia? My goodness, you felt as if you were going to be blown sky high. Nothing of that here at Moldenbury, even though the wind howls—and it can do that sometimes—we’re as warm as toast. Do you like toast, Teresa? I’m rather a one for it. There’s nothing like a round of toast with the butter well soaked in. We always stand it over a basin of water, don’t we, Cordelia? Just as my grandmother used to do. I’m a bit of a one for old customs, Teresa. Old ways are best, my grandmother used to say, and somehow I think she’s right.”

She chattered all the way and then we tumbled out of the trap and went into the house.

It was the beginning of the ideal holiday for Teresa and for me, because her obvious happiness made everything doubly enjoyable. I was so proud of Aunt Patty, who had the secret of spreading happiness about her; and how we used to laugh to see Violet looking over her spectacles and raising her eyes to heaven and continually asking us to look what your Aunt Patty is up to now.

Violet was the perfect foil for Aunt Patty, always looking on the black side, constantly questioning Aunt Patty’s wisdom, always appalled by her impetuosity but loving her as fiercely and devotedly as any of us.

Teresa had never been in such a household before. She was changing. Her timidity dropped from her. For what was there to be afraid of here? There was always so much to do and strangely enough she was with Violet more than any of us.

Her love of flowers and plants had quickly been noticed and as Violet did the gardening, Teresa was soon helping her. They talked constantly of the kitchen garden and the flower beds, while Aunt Patty and I silently looked on, and when Violet said the wasps would get most of the plums and a plague of greenfly were making short work of the finest roses, even Teresa laughed at Violet’s pessimism with the rest of us.

Teresa would go with Violet to cut the vegetables we would have that day and she and Violet would talk of planting and pruning as though Teresa were going to be with us forever.

Aunt Patty had very quickly become well known throughout the village and was deeply involved in all its activities. It was what she had always wanted and had never had time for at Grantley. Her new role became her. She was a born organizer and was to have a big part in the summer fete which would take place during these holidays. Everyone was drawn in. Violet and Teresa were to have the flower stall. I had the white elephant with Aunt Patty and the preparations for that event went on for days.

I was amazed to see Teresa’s enthusiasm.

There was in the village a retired Major who ran a riding stables and I think that because she wanted to show her gratitude to me, I was able to prevail on Teresa to mount a horse again. I had explained to the Major what had happened and he produced a mare whom he called Snowdrop, explaining that she was rather long in the tooth and had a mouth like leather on account of being pulled on so hard. “I get all my beginners started on Snowdrop,” he said. “She can be as stubborn as a mule but she is safe as houses.”

So I took Teresa out on Snowdrop and after the first morning she was ready to ride again. I looked on that as a great achievement.

The weeks flew past—long days of sunshine for it was a good summer and when it rained there was always something to do in the house. I had wondered how we were going to entertain Teresa at such times but I need have had no qualms about that. She was off with Violet to the potting shed and in the evenings they would pore over seed catalogues together.

“I always wanted a piece of garden of my own,” said Teresa.

“That’s easily arranged,” said Aunt Patty. “Surely there’s somewhere in this big garden.”

Violet considered seriously and said: “What about that bit by the rockery? We’ve never got round to doing much with that. Yes, that’s it. What could you plant there?”

She and Teresa went into a deep discussion before Teresa cried out in dismay: “But I’m only here for the holiday.”

Violet looked disconsolate but Aunt Patty was ready for the occasion. “Why bless you, my dear, that’ll be your bit of land for as long as you want it. I hope you’re not going to tell us you don’t want to come again.”

Teresa was so moved she almost sobbed: “Oh, but I do. I do. I can’t bear it if I don’t.”

“Well, that’s settled,” said Aunt Patty. “What do we call this garden? Teresa’s Treat. Teresa’s Treasure.”

“Teresa’s Tribulation by the look of that soil,” said Violet. “There’s a lot of alkaline in it.”

And we all laughed and started to plan Teresa’s garden. I knew Teresa well and I guessed she was not so much thinking of her garden but that she was coming again.

Aunt Patty had naturally been interested in the school and during the first days of the holiday she talked a good deal about it. This was while Teresa was with Violet in the garden because there must be some things which I could not talk of before one of the pupils.

Aunt Patty listened avidly. She wanted to know just how Daisy Hetherington ran her school. She had a great admiration for her and was in no way envious because Daisy had succeeded where she herself had failed. In fact Aunt Patty did not think she had failed.

“I like it here, Cordelia,” she said. “This is what I always wanted. I sold out at the right time. I’ve enough to be comfortable on…without great luxury of course…but what is luxury compared with comfort? We’re very happy here, happier even than we were at Grantley. There were silly niggling worries there. Parents can be difficult, some of them, and my goodness, pupils can be too.”

I told her about the rebellious Hon. Charlotte and her henchmaid Eugenia Verringer: “The niece of the man who owns the Hall and the school too and much of the neighborhood. He has two nieces, Fiona and Eugenie, and they are both at the school. Eugenie is the difficult one.”

She wanted to hear about Teresa’s accident and I told her without mentioning the tête-à-tête dinner with Sir Jason. I did not want to talk about that any more than I did about that other adventure.

Aunt Patty said: “Did you ever hear from those girls who were with you at Schaffenbrucken? You used to talk about them so much at one time. The ones who were your particular cronies, I mean.”

“No. We said we’d write but we didn’t. You mean to…and then something happens and you forget. The days pass and all that seems so remote now.”

She had aroused memories. I was thinking of us all lying there on the grass of the forest, lying back supporting our heads on our arms…when he had appeared.

“Someone has to be the one to write,” said Aunt Patty. “Do you have their addresses?”

“Yes, we all exchanged addresses.”

“What were their names? I am trying to remember. There was a German girl, a French girl and an English one.”

“That’s right. Lydia Markham was the English one. Then there was Monique Delorme and Frieda Schmidt. I wonder what they are doing now.”

“Write to them. Perhaps you’ll find out.”

“I will. I’ll write today.”

And I did.

The days passed with incredible speed. They were so full. We went for a picnic, taking the trap with us and rattling along the lanes. Violet packed a hamper and grumbled about the rattling of the trap, which would turn the milk, she said, and when she was proved right, that was a great joke.

We sat in the middle of a field, boiled a kettle and drank milkless tea and were tormented by flies, alarmed by wasps and played guessing games.

“That’s picnics for you,” said Violet when we found ants swarming over the sponge-cake.

And it was such a happy day.

Drowsy with sun we rattled home again and stretched ourselves in the garden and talked of picnics we had known. Aunt Patty had some hilarious stories to tell while Violet was characteristically lugubrious and I marveled to watch Teresa, intent one moment, listening avidly and rolling about in uncontrollable mirth.

There were summer evenings when, if it was warm enough, we had supper in the garden. They were lovely days. When I think of them I see Aunt Patty in a hat trimmed with poppies sitting in the garden supporting a basin on her knees while she shelled peas very deftly and dropped them into it. I see Teresa, lying on the grass, her eyes half closed; I can hear the buzzing of Violet’s bees. I recall evenings redolent with the scent of night stock and perfect peace.

I was delighted to receive a letter from Frieda. It was to be expected that she would be the first to reply. Frieda had always been meticulous. She wrote that she was very pleased to hear from me. She herself had one more term before she would be leaving Schaffenbrucken. They missed me, particularly as Lydia had left rather sooner than she had expected to. To read Frieda’s letter took me back, and the school had not changed apparently since I was there.

I had not known that Lydia was leaving so soon. I thought she was to have another year. There must have been some reason. I daresay I should hear from her.

“There you are,” said Aunt Patty. “Each of you waiting for the other to write. Somebody has to make a move. That’s life for you. I reckon you’ll be hearing from the others. Lydia is not so far away, is she?”

“No, she is in Essex…and London of course.”

“Quite near us. She might be popping over to see you. That would be nice. I think you were rather specially fond of her.”

“Well, we had more in common. I expect it was because she is English.”

“That would be it. You’ll hear, you’ll see.”

A week later there was a letter from Monique.

She was leaving at the end of next term also, at the same time as Frieda. “I’m glad at least she is staying on with me. It saves my being all alone. Fancy your teaching now. I was sorry about Grantley. It sounded so grand. I think I shall be marrying Henri soon after I leave Schaffenbrucken. After all, I’ll be quite old by then. It was lovely to hear from you. Please do write again, Cordelia.”

“There,” said Aunt Patty. “What did I say?”

Strangely enough there was no reply from Lydia, but I didn’t think about this until I was back at school, when I wrote to Aunt Patty asking her to send the letter on if Lydia should write. It seemed strange that she, who was nearer and with whom I had been on more friendly terms, should have been the one not to answer.