Peg burst out: "Oh, Mamazel, there be terrible news. One of the men has come straight back with it. Mrs. Soady said to prepare you gentle like."
"What is it, Peg?"
How long she seemed to take to speak, and why did Melisande immediately think of Fermor and Caroline. Peg's next words dispelled that picture which was forming. "It's the little boy . . . the little duke . . . the French duke."
"What, Peg?"
"A terrible accident. It were yesterday afternoon when the winds was so fierce. He was out with the Mounseer. They was on the jetty. 'Twas a foolish place to go when all do know it be special dangerous. He were blown into the sea."
"Both.* . .ofthem?"
"No, only the little one. He were lost... in the sea."
"And Monsieur de la Roche?"
"Well, he could do nothing, you see. It seems he b'ain't no swimmer. Not that he'd have had all that chance if he'd been as fine a life-saver as Jack Pengelly."
"But . . . tell me, Peg. Tell me everything."
"The little body was washed up in the night."
"Dead!"
"Couldn't be no other . . . seeing as he'd been in the sea nigh on ten hours."
"And . . ."
"The Mounseer . . . he's heart-broken, they do say. You see, the little 'un was blown over and he not being able to swim could only run for help. He got hold of Jack Pengelly and he dived in twice. 'Twere like a boiling cauldron, they do say. Mark Biddle went in too. 'Twere no good."
"I must go and see him."
"Mrs. Soady said she reckoned that's what you'd want to do."
Meiisande picked up her cloak and ran downstairs. She heard Mrs. Soady talking as she came into the servants' hall. Mrs. Soady was saying: "Well, that's what I heard, and 'twould seem to be so. Out on the jetty on an afternoon like that! And the little 'un going in and him just running for help. Of course, there's a fortune in it. So perhaps ..."
No! thought Meiisande. No! It's not true.
Mrs. Soady had abruptly stopped talking.
"So, my dear, you have heard the news?"
"Peg told me. You mustn't think ... He wouldn't . . ."
"Oh, 'twas a terrible tragedy. They do say the Mounseer be well nigh heart-broken. Where be going, Mamazel?"
"I'm going to see him. I must see him."
"William will take 'ee in the carriage. I be sure Sir Charles would not say no to that. Bet, you run and tell William."
"Thank you, Mrs. Soady."
"There, my dear, don't 'ee take on. 'Tis the sort of thing that do happen in these terrible storms. There's been many lost on that jetty. A snare it be, and should by rights be roped off on such days."
"What did you mean when you said there was a fortune in it?"
"My dear life! Did I say that? You must have misunderstood me. I just said what a bit of bad fortune, I reckon, and how the Mounseer was heart-broken at what have happened."
Meiisande stared before her. She thought: They will say cruel things about him. Even kind people like Mrs. Soady will believe those cruel things about him.
Mrs. Soady looked at Mr. Meaker and shook her head. There were times, thought Mrs. Soady, when silence was a virtue. Least said was soonest mended. She didn't like this. She didn't like it at all; and she had taken the little Mamazel under her wing and would protect her from the wickedness of the world.
176 IT BEGAN IN VAUXHALL GARDENS
Bet came in to say that the carriage was waiting, and hastily Melisande ran out to it.
The journey seemed to take hours. She pictured it all . . . the two of them battling against that violent wind. Had the boy asked to go out on to the jetty ? Or had Leon suggested it ? No, Leon would not suggest it. He would have been persuaded. If I had gone . . . if only I had been there, she thought, this might not have happened.
She looked through the carriage windows at the smugly smiling sea. It was like a monster who had had his fill, who had brought tragedy, and having shown his power was content to be still and gentle for a while. The houses looked fresh in the morning light. The well-washed tiles gleamed blue and green in the pale sunlight; the moisture still glistened about the pisky-pows.
When she reached the house, Mrs. Clark took her to Leon's room and left them there. "Comfort him," she whispered; "he's in a sad way."
So, Melisande went to him unceremoniously and, seeing his haggard face, held out her arms to him. He came to her and they embraced. Then he held her at arms' length.
"So you have heard."
"Oh, L£on . . . please . . . please don't look like that. It's terrible. But we'll grow away from it . . . together."
He shook his head. "I can never grow away from it."
"You will. Of course you will. It is because it is so near that it seems overwhelming."
"I was there, Melisande. I was there."
"I know. I have heard."
His face was dark and bitter. "What else have you heard?"
She caught her breath. "What else? Why, nothing. Just what has happened."
"You cannot hide it, Melisande, though it is like you to try. You know what they will say, what they are already saying. You have heard. I see it in your face."
"I have heard nothing," she lied.
"It's a brave lie. But you are brave. At the moment you are sorry for me. Pity overwhelms you. But the brave despise cowards, and you see one before you now."
She took him by the arm and looked up into his face. "It is terrible . . . doubly terrible because you were there. But there was nothing you could do, Leon. There was nothing else you could do but what you did."
"I could have plunged in," he said fiercely.
"But you cannot swim."
"I could have tried. Who knows? At such times men can make superhuman efforts, can't they? I might have saved him."
"You couldn't. You did the only thing possible. You brought Jack Pengelly to the spot. Jack knows the coast . . . knows the sea. He's a strong swimmer. He has saved lives before. What you did— though it might not have been dramatic—was the wise, the sensible thing."
"You are trying to comfort me."
"Of course I am trying to comfort you. What else could I do? You need comfort. You have lost a dearly beloved child."
He said ironically: "And gained a fortune."
"Don't say that."
"It's the truth. You know the terms of my cousin's will. It seems they are general knowledge. Do you think I don't know from the way people look at me! Raoul is gone . . . and they are saying that I killed him."
"That's nonsense. Nobody shall say that. It's a stupid thing to say. Everybody knows how you cared for him, how you spoilt him with your devotion and your care."
"So that I allowed him to go on to the jetty . . . and to his death."
"He was so self-willed. He always did what he wanted. I can picture it . . . exactly as it happened. You said, Don't go; and he said, I will. I can picture it so clearly. I knew him and I know you, Leon. Leon, if we are going to be happy, there must be no bitterness."
"So we are going to be happy?"
"You asked me to marry you, remember, and I accepted. Do you wish to withdraw that proposal?"
He said quietly: "So . . . you would marry me now. You said we did not know each other very well. You said we must get to know each other before we married. I said we must do it quickly. This is the quickest way to improve our knowledge of each other. You have discovered a coward. I have not discovered anything. I always knew that you would be loyal to lost causes. You would give your allegiance to the weak who need you."
"No, Leon, no You are so unhappy. Of course you are unhappy. Do not let us add to that unhappiness."
"There will always be gossip about me, Melisande. Everywhere I go, those people who know me and my position will wonder. That is how it will be."
"We shall not let it bother us even if it is so."
"Melisande, I could only marry you if you believed in me."
"Of course I believe in you. No one who knew y
ou and saw you with that boy could think for a moment that you could do a cruel thing. If anybody says it, it is because they are evil. . . ." She thought of Mrs. Soady then, and Mrs. Soady she knew well to be a kindly woman. She was shaken. Kindly people often loved to gossip.
But she was determined to hide these thoughts. She would not believe such ridiculous gossip. Now that she saw how he needed her, she was determined to marry him soon.
"You say that now," he said, "but if others say these things you might begin to believe them. I could not endure that."
Tenderness swept over her. She saw his weakness. There was that in him which would always look to what was bad in life, would always expect the worst. She must, even in this moment, compare him with Fermor. What would Fermor have done? Of course he would have been able to swim. He would have plunged in and saved the child. He would have had a crowd of spectators to applaud and admire. And if he had been unable to swim? If he had—like Leon— found himself in that dreadful position, he would have felt no need to fear. He would have somehow seen himself more than life-size. But it was the very difference between them which had made her turn to Leon.
She loved Leon, she assured herself; she loved him with a newly found tenderness; and because this terrible thing had happened to him she was going to share it with him.
Gently she talked to him, making plans for their future. She was going to take care of him. Soon they would go away from here— but not too soon. It must not seem as if he were running away. If it were true that people said evil things, he must face that evil; they would face it together.
She knew that she had brought a great comfort to him before she left him and the carriage took her back-to Trevenning.
Ten uneasy days followed.
It was known that Melisande was to marry Leon de la Roche. No one said anything derogatory in her presence regarding Leon, but she knew that the gossip was rife.
Mrs. Soady shook her head. She was not pleased with the engagement now. "Murder," she said to Mr. Meaker, "be like shenegrum; and there's nothing like shenegrum to give 'ee a taste for more shenegrum."
Mr. Meaker was grave too. He reckoned that money was often the motive for murder amongst the nobility. The poor had no money to make it worth while. But, said Mr. Meaker, the Mounseer would be rich now and, when a man got rich so quickly through
someone's death, you had to look about and into things; and looking about and into things made you start wondering.
No, they did not like the thought of MamazePs marriage at all. It made an exciting topic of conversation; it was the only topic of conversation. They delighted to talk of it; but they could not say they liked the thought of the marriage.
The whole neighbourhood was talking. A death. A Fortune. A man who couldn't swim. The two of them alone on the jetty ... the most dangerous spot they could find.
The nods, the grimaces, the furtive glances betrayed their thoughts to Melisande.
And one day the footman came into the servants' hall with an air of great excitement. He whispered to Mr. Meaker, and Mr. Meaker whispered to Mrs. Soady. All that day they whispered of what the footman had seen. The tension grew when Mr. Meaker on the very next day saw what the footman saw; and later others saw it too. ^ There were conferences round the table. What should be done? "Wait a bit," cautioned Mr. Meaker. So they waited. "But," said Mrs. Soady, "I shall not wait much longer."
Melisande had no idea of these secret matters, there was one thing every person in the servants' hall was agreed upon; the Mamazel was not to be told . . . yet. It was something which would have to be broken to her very gently.
Caroline was kind to Melisande, for she too had heard some of the rumours. This was a terrible thing of which Leon de la Roche was accused. Caroline was happy and she wished to see Melisande settled. She was greatly comforted to know that Melisande was betrothed to Leon. It was so suitable; such a neat ending to what had at one time threatened to be a frightening situation.
Preparations were going on for her journey to London. She would be delighted when they left. In the meantime she wanted to be as kind to Melisande as possible.
"I hope you will be happy," she told Melisande, "as happy as I am."
Melisande could not meet her eyes. She kept thinking of Fermor and Caroline together; and she thought of the note she had found under her door on the wedding night, and the Christmas rose which had come with it.
"We are so delighted about your engagement . . . Fermor and I. You looked strained, Melisande. Not worried by all this talk? My dear, people always talk. They're envious. Monsieur de la Roche will be a very rich man now. I am glad. It is so comforting not to have to worry about money."
"He would rather not be rich," said Melisande. "We would rather things were as . . . they were before."
"I am sure you feel like that. I know he was fond of the little boy . . . and you too. But don't worry about the cruel things people say, Melisande."
"You are very kind." Melisande felt the need to explain to someone. She went on hurriedly: "Raoul ... he was so self-willed. You see, he would say '/ want to do this!' and he would do it. Leon was too lenient with him. It was a difficult position. Leon did not wish him to go on to the jetty. But you see, Raoul had been so used to having his own way."
"I have heard he was a very self-willed little boy. But, Melisande, don't concern yourself with silly gossip. I would not if I were in your place. Suppose someone trumped up a silly story about Fermor. . . . I would not believe it."
Poor Caroline! thought Melisande. Poor Caroline and poor Leon! How cruel the world was to some people.
She hoped that Caroline would never be wise enough to understand what sort of a man she had married.
"We shall not concern ourselves with gossip," said Melisande. "As you say, it is folly. I shall see that we do not."
And at the end of those ten days Leon told her that he had to go to London on business. He expected to be away for a week or more.
Melisande was glad. It would be good for him to get away. In London no one would know what had happened.
After he had gone it was as though a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders.
Was she glad on her own account as well as on Leon's ?
It was three weeks after the wedding—a lovely day, a preview of spring, with the primroses already brightening the hedges; the birds were singing, believing that spring had already come.
The bride and bridegroom had not yet left for London. Their
departure had been delayed once or twice. Fermor had seemed in no hurry to go, and Caroline was eager to fall in with his slightest wish.
Melisande went out into the lanes to pick some of the early primroses. Absorbed in her task she did not immediately realize that she was being watched; but, looking up suddenly, she saw that she was near a gap in the hedge where there was a gate leading into a field. Fermor was leaning on the gate.
"Good morning!" he said.
"How long have you been there?" she demanded.
"What a greeting!" he mocked. "What does it matter?"
"I do not like to be watched when I do not know it."
"It was not more than two minutes. Am I forgiven? I saw you come here. You have avoided me constantly so that I have been obliged to creep up on you unawares ... as if you were a wild colt."
"I must be going," she said quickly.
"So soon?"
"I have much to attend to."
"Really? You cannot visit Monsieur, can you, now that he is away?"
She did not answer.
"So you really are going to marry him?"
She turned and was hurrying away when he leaped over the gate and caught her arm. "Don't do it, Melisande," he said. "Don't do it."
"Don't do what?"
"Marry a murderer."
Flushing scarlet she wrenched her arm away.
"You may hit me if you like," he said. "You think I deserve it, don't you?"
"I am afraid it would give you a great satisfa
ction to see me lose my temper, and I do not wish to satisfy you in any way."
"That's a pity, for I would do anything in the world to satisfy you. I think of you continually. That is why I risk your displeasure by begging you to have nothing to do with him."
"What do you know of Mm?"
"That he is a murderer."
"And I know that you are a liar. Do you think that anything you said would carry any weight with me?"
"You must forget your resentment. I could not marry you, Melisande. It was impossible. Don't be angry with the inevitable. But I must prevent your marrying him. Your life would be unsafe with such a man. I tell you he deliberately killed the boy."
"I do not want to hear any more."
"I knew you were headstrong. I knew that you were foolish. But I didn't know that you were a coward, afraid to face the truth."
"You forget. I clearly showed you that you are a coward."
"I did not accept that estimation of my character."
"Nor do I accept yours of mine. I don't believe anything you say. I don't trust you. You are cynical and brutal and I despise you."
"I would rather have your fiery scorn than the lukewarm pity which is all you have for him. The feelings you have for me are at least stronger. That is the hope I cling to."
"You are a fool as well as a brute then, if you would cling to any hope as far as I am concerned."
"Wait until I tell you what I know. Melisande, you've got to listen. This man was poor and now he will be rich. That's true ? You agree?"
"I have no wish to discuss this with you."
"You always run away when you are afraid."
"I am not afraid."
"Then listen to what I have to say, and prove it. I know exactly what happened on the jetty. The wind was howling and it had stopped raining. Everything was set fair for him. He said to the boy, 'Let's go for a walk,' and the boy agreed. They went out. 'Come on to the jetty,' he said, 'it'll be fun watching the waves from there.' The boy agreed. How should he know he was going to his death ? And then, how easy it was. ... A little push ... a little wringing of the hands . . . and then running for Jack Pengelly. What chance had the child in a sea like that!"
It began in Vauxhall Gardens Page 22
