“But Hyson is so very strange. Lowella is quite different.”
“It’s the case of the extrovert and introvert. They are twins of entirely different character. Tell me what Hyson’s been doing to upset you.”
I told her about the dress I had seen on the stand in Carrie’s sewing room.
Deborah sighed. “I know,” she said. “She’d done it before I could stop her. I’d decided on the pink and the pattern; then I found that she was making up not only the pink but the mauve.
“Does she really think that Barbarina is still alive?”
“Not all the time. There are occasions when she’s as lucid as you or I. And at others she thinks she is back in the past. It doesn’t matter. The dresses are exactly alike so that I can wear either of them. I never scold her.”
“But, what about Hyson?” I said. “Does Carrie talk to her?”
“Hyson understands perfectly the state of affairs. I’ve explained to her. But I’ve told her that she must never hurt Carrie’s feelings. Hyson’s a good child. She does her best. You look disapproving, my dear.”
“I think it’s a little … unhealthy,” I said.
“Oh, it does no harm, and it makes Carrie happy. While she can believe that Barbarina is still with us she’s contented. It’s when she faces up to what really happened that she is depressed and sad. It’s easier in Devonshire. There of course she is often under the impression that Barbarina is in Cornwall, and that we shall shortly be visiting her. Here it’s not so easy because she thinks Barbarina should be here.”
I was silent and she laid her hand over mine.
“My dear,” she went on softly, “you’re young and bursting with sound common sense. It’s difficult for you to understand the vagaries of people whose minds are not quite as normal as your own. Don’t let Carrie upset you. She’s been like this for so long. I couldn’t bear to make her unhappy … that’s why I humor her. So I let her say: Miss Deborah shall go to the ball in the pink dress and Miss Barbarina in the mauve. It’s of little consequence. And talking of dresses, tell me, what are you going to wear?”
I told her that it was a green and gold dress which I had bought in Paris during my honeymoon. I had so far had no chance to wear it and the ball seemed the ideal occasion.
“I’m sure you’ll look wonderful, my dear, quite wonderful; and your grandfather and your husband will be so proud of you. Oh Favel, what a fortunate woman you are to find a husband and a grandfather all in a few months!”
“Yes,” I said slowly, “it’s certainly very strange.”
She laughed merrily. “You see, strange things are beginning to happen to you since you came to Pendorric.”
It was arranged that Roc and I should go to Polhorgan half an hour before the guests were due to arrive, so that we should be there, with Lord Polhorgan, to receive them.
I bathed and dressed in good time and was rather pleased with my appearance when I put on my dress. It was a sheath of green silk chiffon billowing out from the knees into a frothy skirt; there was a narrow gold belt at the waist and a gold tracing showed through the chiffon from the satin underskirt.
I had piled my hair high on my head, and I was delighted with the Parisian effect.
Roc came in while I was standing before the mirror and, taking my hands, held me at arms’ length to examine me.
“I haven’t a doubt who’ll be the belle of the ball,” he said. “And what could be more apt?” He drew me to him and kissed me as lightly as though I were a porcelain figure which he feared might break under rough handling.
“You’d better dress,” I warned. “Remember we have to be early.”
“First I want to give you this,” he said, and took a case from his pocket.
I opened it and saw a glittering necklace of emeralds and diamonds.
“Known—rather grandiosely—as the Pendorric Emeralds,” he told me. “Worn at her wedding by her whom they call the First Bride.”
“They’re exquisite, Roc.”
“I had them in mind when I suggested you should buy that dress. I don’t pretend to know anything about clothes, but being green it did seem they’d match.”
“So I’m to wear them tonight?”
“Of course.” He took them from the case and fastened them about my neck. I had looked soignée before, but now I was regal. The emeralds did that for me.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you were giving me these?”
“But in all the best scenes the jewels are clasped about the lady’s neck at the precise psychological moment!”
“You have an eye for drama. Oh Roc, they’re quite lovely. I shall be afraid of losing them.”
“Why should you? There’s a safety chain. Pendorric brides have been wearing them for nearly two hundred years and not lost them. Why should this bride?”
“Thank you, Roc.”
He lifted his shoulders and surveyed me sardonically. “Don’t thank me, darling. Thank that other Petroc who married Lowella. He bought them for her. They’re your heritage anyway. It’ll be nice to show that opulent grandfather of yours that you’ve a husband who can give you something worth having.”
“You’ve given me so much that’s worth having. I don’t want to disparage the necklace but …”
“I know, darling. Kind hearts are more than emeralds. A sentiment with which I am in complete agreement. But it’s getting late, so we’ll develop that line of thought later.”
“Yes, you’d better hurry.”
He went into the bathroom and I looked at my watch. We should be leaving in fifteen minutes. Knowing his tendency to talk while dressing and feeling this would delay him, I went out of the room into the corridor and stood at the window looking down at the quadrangle. I was thinking about my grandfather and all that had happened to me in the last weeks, and it seemed to me that my life, which until then had run along expected lines, had suddenly become dramatic. I did not think I should be very surprised at whatever happened to me next.
Still, I was happy. I was more deeply in love with my husband every day; I was growing fonder of my grandfather, and I found great pleasure in being the one who could bring such happiness into his life. I knew that he had changed a great deal since I had come; and, since he had revealed his relationship to me, even more. He often reminded me of a boy in his enthusiasm for simple things, and I understood that this was because he had never had time to be really young.
Some impulse made me lift my eyes from the pond and the palms. That feeling which came to me often when I was in the quadrangle was strong at that moment. I had never analyzed it, but it was a feeling of eerie discomfort, a notion that I was being watched intently and not casually or in a friendly way.
My eyes went at once to the east windows … to that floor on which Barbarina had had her music room.
There was a movement there. Someone was standing at the corridor window—not close, but a little way back. Now the figure came nearer. I could not see the face but I knew it was a woman because she was wearing a mauve dress.
It was the one I had seen on the dressmaker’s dummy; the dress which Carrie had made for Barbarina.
“Barbarina …” I whispered.
For a few seconds I saw the dress clearly, for a pale hand had drawn back the curtains. I could not see the face though … then the curtain fell back into place.
I stood staring at the window.
Of course, I said to myself, it was Deborah. She has decided to wear the mauve dress after all. That’s the answer. But why did she not wave to me or let me see her?
It had been all over in a few seconds, hadn’t it? She couldn’t have seen me.
Roc came out of the room, shouting that he was ready.
I was about to tell him what I had seen, but somehow it had become unimportant. When I saw Deborah at the ball in the mauve dress I should be satisfied.
The ballroom at Polhorgan was magnificent. Trehay, eager to show off his more exotic blooms, had made a wonderful show, but it was
the hydrangeas, indigenous to Cornwall, that, in my opinion, were the most dazzling.
My grandfather was already in the ballroom in his wheel chair, with Althea Grey beside him, looking startlingly beautiful in her egg-shell blue off-the-shoulder dress, with a white camellia adorning it. Her hand was resting on my grandfather’s chair in a proprietorial way.
“You look more like your mother than ever,” said my grandfather brusquely; and I knew he was moved as I stooped and kissed him.
“It’s going to be wonderful,” I replied. “I’m so looking forward to meeting all your friends.”
My grandfather laughed. “Not my friends. Few of them have ever been here before. They’ve come to meet Mrs. Pendorric—and that’s a fact. What do you think of the ballroom?
“Quite magnificent.”
“Have you got anything like this at Pendorric, Roc?”
“I’m afraid we don’t run to such glory. Our halls are tiny in comparison.”
“Like that paneling? I had that specially brought here from the Midlands. Some old mansion that was broken up. Used to say to myself: ‘One day that’ll be mine.’ Well, so it was in a way.”
“There’s a lesson in it,” said Roc. “Take what you want and pay for it.”
“I paid for it all right.”
“Lord Polhorgan,” said Althea, “you mustn’t get overexcited. If you do I shall have to insist on your going back to your room.”
“You see how I’m treated?” said my grandfather. “I might be a schoolboy. In fact I’m sure at times Nurse Grey thinks I am.”
“I’m here to look after you,” she reminded him. “Have you your T.N.T.s?”
He put his hand in his pocket and held up the silver box.
“Good. Keep them handy.”
“I shall be keeping my eye on him too,” I said.
“How fortunate you are, sir,” Roc murmured. “The two most beautiful women at the ball to watch over you!”
My grandfather put his hand over mine and smiled at me. “Aye,” he agreed, “I’m lucky.”
“That sounds like the first of the guests,” said Althea.
It was. Dawson, spectacular in black livery with gold frogs and buttons, was announcing the first arrivals.
I felt very proud standing there between my grandfather and my husband as I greeted the guests. My grandfather was cold and formal; Roc quite the opposite. I was, naturally, the center of a great deal of interest; I guessed that many of these people wanted to see what sort of woman Roc Pendorric had married. The fact that I was Lord Polhorgan’s granddaughter meant that they were aware of our romantic meeting, for they all knew my mother had run away from home and had not communicated with her father again. It made a good story and naturally there had been a certain amount of gossip about it.
Roc was told that he was lucky, and now and then I sensed the underlying significance of that remark. Polhorgan was an imposing structure, but a great many of these people possessed houses as grand. The difference was that they had been in their families for hundreds of years, while my grandfather had earned the money to build his. Moreover, it was unlikely that any of these people could match the opulence of the furnishings they now saw. It was well known that my grandfather was either a millionaire or something near it.
So when they told Roc he was lucky, I presumed my grandfather’s wealth had something to do with it.
However, I was beginning to enjoy myself. The music had started and the guests were still arriving. They were not all young; indeed there were some very old people present, for the invitations had been issued to whole families. It was going to be a very mixed ball.
The party from Pendorric had arrived, and the twins came ahead, arm in arm, looking exactly alike in their gold-colored dresses; behind them Charles and Morwenna, and then … Deborah.
Deborah was wearing the pink dress that Carrie had made for her, and looking as though she had stepped out of a twenty-five-year-old magazine.
But pink! Then who had been wearing the mauve?
I forced myself to smile at them; but I could not stop thinking of the vision I had seen at the window. Who could it have been?
Deborah had taken my hands. “You look lovely, dear. Is everything all right?”
“Why yes … I think so.”
“I thought you looked a little startled when you saw me.”
“Oh no … not really.”
“It was something. You must tell me later. I’d better pass on now.”
More guests were approaching and Roc was introducing me. I took the outstretched hands, still thinking of the vision I had seen in the mauve dress.
I danced with Roc and with many others that night. I was aware of my grandfather’s eyes, which never seemed to leave me.
I think I was a successful hostess.
I was grateful to Deborah, who was determined to put me at my ease since I had shown her that I was disturbed.
She took the first opportunity of talking to me.
Roc was dancing with Althea Grey and I was standing by my grandfather’s chair when she came up.
“While you have a moment, Favel,” she said, “I’d like to chat. Tell me, why were you startled when you saw me?”
I hesitated, then I replied: “I thought I’d seen you earlier in the evening at the east window—before we left Pendorric … in the mauve dress.”
There was silence for a few seconds and I went on: “I was dressed and waiting for Roc when I looked out of the window and saw someone in the mauve dress.”
“And you didn’t recognize who it was?”
“I couldn’t see a face. I only saw the dress and that someone was wearing it.”
“Whatever did you think?”
“I thought you’d decided to wear it.”
“And when I came in the pink surely you didn’t think you’d seen … Barbarina?”
“Oh no, I didn’t think that really. But I wondered who …”
She touched my hand. “Of course you wouldn’t think it. You’re too sensible.” She paused and said: “There’s a simple explanation. I had a choice of two dresses. Why shouldn’t I try on the mauve and finally decide on the pink?”
“So it was you.”
She did not answer; she was staring dreamily at the dancers. I realized that I didn’t believe what she was hinting. She had not said that she had tried on the mauve dress; she had put it differently. “Why shouldn’t I try on the mauve … ?” It was as though she did not want to tell a lie but at the same time was trying to set my mind at rest.
That was just a fleeting thought which came into my head as I looked at her kind, gentle face.
Almost immediately I said to myself: Of course, Deborah tried on the mauve first. It was natural. And moreover it was the only explanation.
But why should she go to the east wing to do it? Because Carrie would have put the dress there, was the obvious answer.
I dismissed the matter from my mind. Deborah saw this and seemed contented.
Grandfather said that I must not remain at his side as he liked to see me among the dancers. I told him I was rather anxious about him, as he looked more flushed than usual.
“I’m enjoying it,” he said. “I should have liked to have done more of this in the past. Perhaps we will now, eh, now you’ve come home? Where’s your husband?”
He was dancing with Nurse Grey and I pointed him out. They were the most striking couple in the room, I thought; she with her fair looks, he so dark.
“He ought to be dancing with you,” said my grandfather.
“He did suggest it, but I told him I wanted to talk to you.”
“Now that won’t do. Ah, here’s the doctor. Nice to see you unprofessionally, Dr. Clement.”
Andrew Clement smiled at me. “It was good of you and Mrs. Pendorric to ask me.”
“Why don’t you ask my granddaughter to dance? Don’t want her glued to the old man’s chair all the evening.”
Andrew Clement smiled at me and we went on to the
floor together.
“Do you think this is too much excitement for my grandfather?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t say he was too excited. No, I think it’s doing him good. I’ll tell you something, Mrs. Pendorric; he’s been much better since you’ve been here.”
“Has he?”
“Oh yes, you’ve given him a real interest in life. There were times when I was afraid he’d die of melancholia … sitting in that room day after day, staring out at the sea. Now he’s no longer lonely. I think he’s changed a great deal; he’s got something to live for, and you know he’s a man of immense energy. He’s always gone all out for what he wants, and managed to get it. Well, now he wants to live.”
“That’s excellent news.”
“Oh yes, he’s told me how delighted he is with you. He wanted me to witness his signature on some important documents the other day, and I said to Nurse Grey afterwards that I hadn’t found him so well for a very long time. She said it was all thanks to that granddaughter of his on whom he doted.”
“I can’t tell you how happy I am if I can be of help to him. Is your sister here tonight?”
“Oh yes, though ballroom dancing isn’t much in her line. Now if it were folk dancing …”
He laughed and at that moment he was tapped on the shoulder by a dark, handsome young man. Andrew Clement pretended to scowl and said: “Oh, is it that sort of dance?”
“Afraid so,” said the young man. “I’m claiming Mrs. Pendorric.”
As I danced with this young man he told me he was John Poldree and that he lived a few miles inland.
“I’m home for a bit,” he went on. “Actually I’m studying law in London.”
“I’m so glad you were home for the ball,” I told him.
“Yes, it’s good fun. All very exciting too—your turning out to be Lord Polhorgan’s granddaughter.”
“Most people seem to think so.”
“Your grandfather has a striking-looking nurse, Mrs. Pendorric.”
“Yes, she’s certainly very beautiful.”
“Who is she? I’ve seen her somewhere before.”
Bride of Pendorric Page 20
