Kirkland Revels

by Victoria Holt

  " I have heard that you are going to have a child," she said.

  " I suppose the doctor has told you."

  " Oh ... no. He does not talk about his patients. My daughter told me."

  " I have seen a great deal of her. She is so often at the Revels."

  The woman's face softened. " Oh yes. Damaris is very fond of everyone at the Revels."

  " And they of her. She is very charming."

  " There is only one fault that can be found with her. She should have been a boy."

  " Oh, do you think so? I hope for a boy but I shan't really mind if my child is a girl."

  " No, I didn't mind--one doesn't oneself."

  I was talking desperately to keep my mind off my own plight, and I suppose I was not really thinking much about her or her affairs, but I said: "So it was the doctor who cared."

  " Most ambitious men want sons. They want to see themselves reproduced. It's a tragedy when they are disappointed. Please tell me, is anything wrong?"

  "Why do you ask?"

  " I thought you looked as though it might be so."

  " I ... I want to consult the doctor."

  " Of course. You came here to do that, didn't you? I'm sure he won't be long."

  " Let him come soon," I was praying. " I must speak to >um. I vmst make him understand."

  " Do you want to see him so vary urgently?" she asked.

  " Yes ... I did."

  " It's on your own account, of course."

  " Yes."

  " I remember when I was having my children, I was continually anxious."

  " I didn't know you had more than one, Mrs. Smith."

  " There is only Damans living. I have made many attempts to have a son. Unfortunately I did not succeed. I bore two stillborn daughters and there were others whom I lost in the early stages of pregnancy. My last, born four years ago ... born dead ... was a boy. That was a very bitter blow."

  Although I could not see her face clearly because her back was to the light, I was aware of the change in her expression as she said. " It was the doctor's wish that we should have a boy. For the last four years ... since the birth of the boy, I have never been well."

  I was in a hypersensitive state. Worried as I was about my own problem, I was aware that she, too, had a problem of her own. I felt a bond between us which I could not fully understand and which I felt she saw clearly but was uncertain of my ability to see. It was a strange feeling. I was already beginning to ask myself whether my imagination was betraying me. But as soon as such a thought came into my head I dismissed if.

  I was myself--practical, feet on the ground. Nobody, I told myself fiercely--perhaps too fiercely--is going to tell me that I'm going out of my mind.

  She spread her hands on the Paisley shawl with an air of resignation.

  " One thing," she said with a little laugh, " there could be no more attempts."

  Conversation between us flagged; I was wishing that I had remained in that impersonal waiting-room for the doctor's return.

  She tried again. " I was very upset when I heard of your tragedy."

  " Thank you."

  "Gabriel was a charming person. It is hard to believe

  " It is impossible to believe ... what they said of him," I heard myself reply vehemently. 173 "Ah! I am glad you do not believe it.

  I wonder you don't go back to your family ... to have your child."

  I was puzzled, for I noticed that there was a little colour in her cheeks and I could see that the thin white hands were trembling. She was excited about something and I fancied she was wondering whether to confide in me. But I was watching myself, and I thought desperately:

  Am I always going to watch myself from now on?

  "My child--if a boy--will be the heir of the Revels," I said slowly. "

  It's a tradition that they should be born in the house."

  She lay back and closed her eyes. She looked so ill that I thought she had fainted, and I rose to look for the bell, but just at that moment Damans, came in.

  " Mother!" she cried, and her face looked different because the masklike quality had left it. She looked younger, a lovely vital girl.

  I knew in that moment that she was very fond of the invalid. Her face changed as her gaze fell on me. " But Mrs. Rockwdll What ... ? How ?"

  " I called on the doctor," I said, " and as I had to wait I thought I'd make use of the opportunity to see your mother."

  " Oh, but ..."

  " Why, have I done something I shouldn't? I'm sorry. Are you not allowed to receive visitors?"

  " It is the state of her health," said Damans. " My father is very careful of her."

  "He is afraid they will over-excite her ... or what?"

  " Yes, that is it. She has to be kept quiet." Damans went to her mother and laid a hand on her brow.

  " I'm all right, my darling," said Mrs. Smith.

  " Your head's hot. Mother."

  " Would you like me to go?" I asked.

  "Mease no," said Mrs. Smith quickly, but Damaris was looking doubtful.

  " Sit down, Damaris," she went on, and turning to me: " My daughter is over-anxious on my behalf."

  " And I expect the doctor is," I said.

  " Oh yes ... yes!" Damaris put in.

  " I know he must be because he is so kind to all his patients. I hear his praises sung wherever I go."

  Mrs. Smith lay back, her eyes closed, and Damaris said:

  " Yes, yes. It is so. They rely on him."

  " I hope he will soon be back," I said.

  " I am sure he would have hurried back if he had known you were waiting for him."

  Damans sat down near her mother and began to talk. I had never heard her talk so much before. She talked of our trip to K-nares borough and the Christmas holiday; she talked of the " Bring and Buy " sale and other church activities.

  It was thus that the doctor found us.

  I heard his footsteps on the stairs and then the door was flung open.

  He was smiling but it was a different kind of smile from that which I usually saw on his face, and I knew that he was more disturbed than I had ever seen him before.

  " Mrs. Rockwell," he cried. " Why, tills is a surprise."

  " I decided to make the acquaintance of Mrs. Smith while I was waiting."

  He took my hand and held it firmly in his for a few seconds. I had a notion that he was seeking to control himself. Then he went to his wife's sofa and laid a hand on her brow.

  "You are far too excited, my dear," he said.

  "Has she been exciting herself?"

  He was looking at Damaris and I could not see his face clearly.

  "No, Father." Damaris's voice sounded faint as though she were a little girl and not very sure of herself.

  He had turned to me. " Forgive me, Mrs. Rockwell. I was concerned on two counts. On yours and that of my wife. You have come to see me.

  You have something to tell me?"

  "Yes," I said, "I want to speak to you. I think it is important."

  " Very well," he said. " You will come to my consulting room. Shall we go now?"

  " Yes, please," I said; and I rose and went to Mrs. Smith's couch.

  I took the cold clammy hand in mine and I wondered about her as I said good-bye. She had changed with the coming of her husband, but I was not sure in what way, for it was as though a shutter had been drawn over her expression. I believed he was going to scold her for exciting herself. She had the air of a child who had disobeyed.

  Her welfare is his greatest concern, I thought; which is natural. He who is so kind to his patients would be especially so to her.

  I said good-bye to Damans and the doctor led the way down to his consulting room.

  As he shut the door and gave me a chair at the side of the roll-top desk and took his own chair. I felt my spirits rise a 175 little. He looked so benign that I could not believe he would do anything but help roe.

  " Now," he said, " what is the trouble?" j " Strange things have
been happening to me," I burst out. " You know about them."

  "Yes," he admitted.

  "Some you yourself have told me. I have heard of the rest through other sources."

  " You know then that I saw a monk in my bedroom."

  " I know that you thought you saw that."

  " So you don't believe me."

  He lifted a hand. " Let us say at this stage that I know that you saw it if that comforts you."

  " I don't want comfort. Dr. Smith. I want people to accept what I tell them as truth."

  " That is not always easy," he said, " but remember I am here to help you."

  " Then," I said, " there were the incidents of the bed curtains the warming-pan and the cloak over the parapet."

  " That cloak you are wearing," he said.

  " So you even know that."

  " I had to be told. I am, you know, looking after your neal th

  " And you believe that I have fancied all these things that they did not really happen outside my imagination."

  He did not speak for a moment and I insisted: " Do you? Do you?"

  He lifted a hand. " Let us review this with calm. We need calm, Mrs.

  Rockwell. You need it more than you need any thing else. "

  " I am calm. What I need is people who believe in me."

  " Mrs. Rockwell, I am a doctor and I have had experience of many strange cases. I know I can talk to you frankly and intelligently."

  " So you do not. think I am mad?"

  " Do not use such a word. There is no need to."

  " I am not afraid of words ... any more than I am afraid of people who dress up as monks and play tricks on me."

  He was silent for a few seconds, then he said: "You are going through a difficult time. Your body is undergoing changes. Sometimes when this happens the personalities of women change. You have heard that they have odd fancies for things which they previously have been indifferent ?"

  " This is no odd fancy!" I cried. " I think I should tell you immediately that I am here because I know you have 176 been discussing what you call my case with Mrs. Grantley and that you have both decided that I am ... mentally unbalanced."

  "You overheard this!" he said; and I could see that he was taken aback;

  I had no intention of betraying Aunt Sarah, so I said:

  " I know that you have been discussing this together. You don't deny it."

  " No," he said slowly, " that would be foolish of me, wouldn't it?"

  " So you and she have decided that I am crazy."

  " Nothing of the sort. Mrs. Rockwell, you are very excited. Now, before your pregnancy you were not easily excited, were you? That is one change we see."

  " What are you planning to do with me ... to send me to Worstwhistle?"

  He stared at me, but he could not disguise the fact that the thought had been in his mind.

  I was stricken with fury . and panic. I stood up but he was immediately beside me. He laid his hands on my shoulders and gently forced me back into my seat.

  " You have misunderstood," he said, resuming his seat and speaking very gently. " This is a painful matter to me. I am very fond of the family 'at the Revels and their tragedies affect me deeply. Please believe that there is no question of your going to Wortwhistle ... at this stage."

  I took him up at once. " Then at what stage?"

  " Please, please, be calm. Very good work is done at ... that place.

  You know I am a regular visitor there. You have been overwrought for some weeks. You could not hide this from me. "

  "I have been overwrought because someone is trying to make me appear-hysterical. And how dare you talk to me of that place! You must be mad yourself."

  " I only want to help you."

  " Then find out who is doing these things. Find out who had monks' robes at the pageant. We might discover who still has one."

  " You are still thinking of that unfortunate incident."

  " Of course I think of it. It was the beginning."

  " Mrs. Rockwell... Catherine ... I want to be your friend. You can't doubt that, can you?"

  I looked into those dark brown eyes and I thought they were very soft and gentle.

  " I became interested in you from the moment Gabriel brought you to the Revels," he went on. " And when your father came to the funeral I saw how matters stood between you. That touched me deeply. It made you seem so ... vulnerable. But I am being too candid."

  " I want to hear what you-have to say," I insisted. " I want nothing held back."

  " Catherine, I wish you would trust me. More than any thing I want to help you through this difficult time. Damaris is not much younger than you, and when I have seen you together I have often wished that you, too, were my daughter. One of my dearest wishes was to be the father of a large family. But you are growing impatient with me. Let me say briefly that I have always felt towards you as I would towards a daughter, and I have hoped that you would confide in me, that I might be able to help you."

  " The best way in which you could do that would be to find out who it was who dressed up as a monk and came to my bedroom. If you could find that person, I shall be in no need of help."

  He looked at me sadly and shook his head.

  "What are you suggesting?" I demanded.

  " Only that I want you to confide your troubles in me ... as you would to your own father." He hesitated and, shrugging his shoulders, added:

  " As you might have done to a father who was closer to you than your own. I would gladly protect you."

  " So you think someone is threatening me?"

  " Something is. It may be heredity. It may be ..." * " I don't understand you."

  "Perhaps I have said too much."

  " No one is saying quite enough. If I knew everything that was in the minds of these people about me, I should be able to show you that you have misjudged me when you think me ... unbalanced."

  " But you believe now that I want to help you. You do, I hope, look on me as a friend as well as a doctor?"

  I saw the anxiety in his eyes and I was deeply moved. He had noticed my father's indifference to me and in some way I had betrayed how that had hurt me. He had called me vulnerable. I had not thought of myself in that way before, but I was beginning to realise that it was exactly what I was. I had longed for the affection which had been denied me;

  Uncle Dick had given it to me, but he was not here with me at this important crisis of my life. Dr. Smith was offering his sympathy and with it that particular brand of paternal devotion for which I had longed.

  " You are very kind," I said.

  A look of pleasure touched his features. He leaned forward and patted my hand.

  Then he was suddenly very serious. " Catherine," he said, as though he were considering very carefully what he was saying, " a short time ago you told me that you wanted me to be absolutely frank. I have convinced you, haven't I, that I have your welfare at heart? I want you to know too that I owe a great debt to the Rockwell family. I am going to tell you something which is not generally known, because I want you to understand my deep devotion to the family of which you are now a member. You may remember I told you that I began my life as an unwanted child, a poor orphan, and that it was a rich man who gave me my opportunity to do the work I longed to do. That man was a Rockwell--Sir Matthew in fact. So you see I can never forget the debt of gratitude I owe to the family and to Sir Matthew in particular."

  " I see," I murmured.

  " He wants his grandson to be born strong and healthy. I long to make that possible. My dear Catherine, you must place yourself in my hands.

  You must take great care of yourself. You must let me take care of you. And there is one fact of which I believe you are ignorant; and I am now turning over in my mind whether or not I should tell you this.

  "

  " You must tell me. You must."

  " Oh, Catherine, it may be when you have heard it, that you will wish I had not spoken. I am asking myself at this moment--as I have s
o many times--whether it is wiser to tell you or not."

  " Please tell me. I don't want to be left in the dark."

  "Are you strong enough to hear this, Catherine?"

  " Of course I'm strong enough. The only thing I can't bear is lies ... and secrets. I am going to find out who it is who is doing this to me."