Gossamer Cord

by Philippa Carr

  He looked embarrassed.

  “Come on,” he said. “We shall be very late. We’ll have to pick our way carefully across the sand. It will be slippery as the tide has just gone out. Mind the rocks.”

  “I will,” I said, and we walked side by side along the beach.

  There was a great deal of fuss when we reached the house. I had been expected back three hours earlier. They were all in the hall—Dorabella, Dermot, Matilda, and the old man. I could not fail to see the excitement in the latter’s eyes.

  Dorabella came to me and hugged me while she scolded.

  “Where have you been? We’ve been frantic.”

  I explained while Gordon said nothing.

  “He was absolutely wonderful,” I finished. “I could never have climbed the cliff alone.”

  I saw Matilda’s lips twitch as she regarded her son with pride.

  “I am so glad…so glad,” she said.

  “Whatever made you walk along the beach?” demanded Dorabella. She had been really scared and wanted to go on blaming me.

  “It was silly, but I didn’t think…”

  “Well, you are back now,” said Matilda. “Both of you must be exhausted…and chilled.”

  “I’m hot now actually,” I said.

  “Nevertheless, I think you need a good strong drink. Brandy, don’t you think, Gordon?”

  Gordon thought it would be a good idea.

  I was briefly reminded of that other occasion when I had taken brandy with Jowan Jermyn in Smithy’s.

  They all sat round while we drank, and I described exactly what had happened. Gordon had lapsed into his habitual reticent manner while I did the talking. Dorabella sat close to me, and every now and then she would touch my arm as though to reassure herself that I was still there. I found that very endearing.

  I repeated how wonderful Gordon had been, how he had so cleverly hauled me up to him, how we had sat on the ledge in the cliffs which he remembered from his childhood days, waiting for the tide to recede before we scrambled down.

  “I could never have done it alone,” I said. “I did not know which way to turn.”

  “You could have been drowned,” whispered Dorabella.

  “I think that is very likely. I have to thank Gordon.”

  Gordon said: “Oh, you would have clambered up somehow.”

  “Good old Gordon,” said Dermot.

  “It was a miracle that he came along in time,” said Matilda. “And he is always so calm in any emergency. Most people would have panicked and dashed off to get help and, by the time that came, it could have been too late.”

  “I was lucky to know the cliffs so well,” said Gordon.

  “And I was lucky that you saved my life,” I added.

  “Yes,” said Matilda firmly. “It was a wonderful rescue, and I’m proud of you, Gordon.”

  I caught the old man’s eyes. I could not read the expression there. He said: “Well, my dear, we are all happy that we have not lost you. It will be a warning to you. Don’t take risks with the sea.”

  “I shall be very careful in future, I assure you.”

  Dorabella said: “I feel exhausted by all this. I shall have my meal in bed and Violetta must have hers with me. I want to get used to the idea that she is safe. Otherwise I shall have nightmares.”

  Dorabella looked very pretty, sitting up in bed with her hair falling about her shoulders.

  She demanded to know everything, for she was sure there was more than I had told the others.

  “Fancy Gordon,” she said. “One doesn’t see him exactly in the role of gallant knight, does one?”

  “He was very practical.”

  “It’s so romantic.”

  “You should have seen us climbing the cliff. Most inelegant, I am sure, and far from romantic.”

  “Now, Vee, of course it was romantic. Damsel in distress, gallant young man rides by.”

  “He was walking.”

  “It was like Sir Lancelot.”

  “I did not know he ever rescued anyone from drowning.”

  “Well, one of them must have done. And what was he like? He must have been different. He’s always so aloof…what did he say?”

  “We talked a bit.”

  “What about?”

  “Nothing very much really.”

  “You can’t be all that time sitting on a ledge talking about nothing much. Come on, tell me, or I shall be very cross and that is bad for my condition.”

  “He told me a little about his childhood before he came to Tregarland’s and how, when he was a boy, he explored the cliffs, which was a great help to us then, and how he would really like a place of his own.”

  “A place of his own?”

  “Well, he only works here, doesn’t he?”

  “What does he want a place of his own for? He runs this one.”

  “It will be Dermot’s in due course. A man such as he is, who cares about the land, would naturally want his own place.”

  “He didn’t…er…make any approaches?”

  “Approaches? Gordon? What do you mean?”

  “Well, a man and woman in those circumstances…barriers come down and all that.”

  “You are talking about Gordon Lewyth. Your mind runs on one thing. I am not the frail little piece of femininity that all men wish to protect. I am plain, no-nonsense, usually able to look after myself.”

  “It did not seem like it this afternoon. He does like you, I’m sure. Even if he didn’t before, he will after this. People always like those whose life they save. Every time they look at them they are reminded how wonderful they were and how the saved one must be eternally grateful.”

  I laughed.

  “Where were you going anyway?”

  “I was coming back to Tregarland’s.”

  “Naturally. But where had you been?”

  I hesitated. I did not want to tell her I had been with Mrs. Pardell. I was still not sure how she felt about Annette. Perhaps I would tell her later…choose my moment. To talk about the death of her predecessor might upset her in her present state.

  “Oh, just for a walk,” I said.

  “And what about this Jermyn man? You haven’t seen him yet.”

  “No.”

  “Well, you usually do when you come here.”

  “Perhaps I will.”

  “Do you know, Vee, you are a dark horse. Grim Gordon risks his life for you. Then there are secret meetings with the family’s enemy. That’s two of them. I believe you are a femme fatale.”

  “Oh, no. That is your role.”

  “We are really one. You know that. We are different, of course, but that is because we are one person. I used to think that the foolish side was myself and the sensible side you. But not after this afternoon. Who was silly enough to get caught by the tide? I shall taunt you with that throughout our lives, whenever you put on one of your superior acts. When did I ever do anything so foolish as that?”

  “I’ll consider it. I am sure I shall be able to come up with something.”

  She put out her tongue at me and laughed. She was so happy and I knew it was because I was safe and back with her.

  She went on: “I am longing to hear more of the enemy.”

  “You are thinking of that silly old feud. Jowan Jermyn is not an enemy.”

  “He will have heard by now of your adventure. News travels fast here. We may be something of a backwater, but our communication service is superb. I have discovered that lots of people here are related to each other—many sisters and cousins are working for the various people around. So news is circulated quickly. Most things we do are recorded as soon as they take place. We are all living in glass houses, so that adventure of yours on the cliffs will be headline news, or would be if they had newspapers. Mr. Jermyn will know of it by now and gnashing his teeth because he was not the one to make the gallant rescue.”

  “What nonsense!”

  “Promise me you’ll go and see him tomorrow…when I am having this ridicul
ous rest of mine…you go to the meeting place and see if he is there. You must promise me. In my condition I have to be humored.”

  We were laughing again.

  “And when you come back, I want you here with me…to tell me every detail.”

  I promised.

  The next afternoon, true to my promise to Dorabella, I decided I would go to the field and see if Jowan Jermyn were there. I did not believe Dorabella was right in believing that he would already have heard of my adventure, but he might know that I had been in Cornwall for a few days. In any case, there was no harm in riding to the field. If he were not there, I would just ride around and tell Dorabella that I had kept my promise.

  I went to the stables. Jack was not there. A young man was grooming one of the horses. I had seen him before and I knew he was Seth. He was about nineteen or twenty and had large gray eyes which seemed to be looking at something the rest of us could not see. I had heard that there was something strange about Seth. He was “piskymazed,” said some. “Something missing in the top story,” said others. He was always referred to as Poor Seth, but all admitted that he had a way with horses.

  I said: “Good afternoon, Seth.”

  He nodded in acknowledgment and went to Starlight’s stall. He was muttering something to her, patting her as he led her out. I noticed the loving way he touched her and I saw her response. Oh, yes, he had a way with horses.

  He started to saddle her. Then suddenly, he looked at me with those strange eyes and said: “Be careful, Miss. What did happen yesterday…”

  He had a slurred way of speaking, as though his tongue were too big for his mouth, and I had some difficulty in hearing him.

  “Master Gordon…” he said. “If ’e ’adna been there…”

  “Oh, yes,” I said. “He saved my life. There was no way I could have escaped from the cove if he hadn’t come to help me.

  “ ’Twere ’er again, Miss.”

  “Her?”

  “Her from over Jermyn’s.”

  I looked puzzled.

  He went on dealing with Starlight, murmuring to her as he did so.

  “ ’Tis the curse, Miss. ’Er drowned herself, didn’t ’un. ’Twere ’er. She be after folk at Tregarland’s. Women…’er wants ’un with her …so ’er comes back to get ’un.”

  This sounded like garbled nonsense to me. He was “piskymazed.” Poor boy. But I wanted to know what was in his mind.

  “Tell me, Seth,” I said. “What do you know about her…coming to get them?”

  “ ’Er drowned, didn’t ’er? It was ’cos of Tregarland’s. ’Er’s doing to them what was done to ’er. There were Mr. Dermot’s first wife…her from the Sailor’s Rest.”

  “What of her, Seth?”

  “ ’Er went down to the sea…and that baby went with her. That’s what her wanted.”

  “Her?” I repeated.

  “ ’Er from Jermyn’s. ’Er ’ave it in for Tregarland women…well, ’er would, wouldn’t ’er?”

  “But she is dead, Seth. How could it be?”

  He looked at me in amazement. “ ’Er comes back, don’t ’er? I seen ’er.”

  “You’ve seen her! But she’s dead.”

  “She come back and ’er got the first Mrs. Tregarland, didn’t ’er? ’Er beckoned her into the sea. I seen ’er. Then…Miss…the sea nearly got you.”

  “I’m not a Tregarland, Seth.”

  “Aye…but your sister be. That’s close enough for ’er.”

  Poor Seth. He was indeed crazy. But now he had saddled the horse and she was ready for me.

  “Thank you, Seth,” I said, smiling.

  “She be a good ’un,” he said. He patted Starlight lovingly. “You be a good ’un,” he said in her ear and she rubbed her nose into his hand.

  I rode out of the stables, wondering what was going on in Seth’s muddled mind.

  I made my way to the field. There was no one there and I felt deeply disappointed. I was about to ride away when I hesitated. After all, there had been no fixed arrangement. I looked at my watch. It was about five minutes earlier than last time.

  I dismounted and, tethering Starlight to a tree, I sat down, leaning against a hedge. I was still thinking about Seth and how pleasant it would be to talk to Jowan Jermyn when I saw him riding toward me.

  He pulled up sharply.

  “Oh,” I said, “so you came.”

  “Naturally. I came yesterday and the day before.”

  “I am sorry. But it wasn’t a definite arrangement, was it?”

  He shook his head. “Well, now you are here, it’s cider time once more. Let’s see, it was the Horned Stag last time. This time it shall be the Lion’s Head. That’s in another fishing village slightly smaller than Poldown, similar and yet different. I think you will like it. May I say how pleased I am to see you.”

  “And I you.”

  “That is nice to hear. Would you like to go now?”

  I had risen to my feet and he helped me mount Starlight and soon we were riding out of the field.

  “Did you have an interesting time in London?”

  “Very interesting, thank you. And you…here?”

  “Much as usual. We go westwards. It’s about four miles along the coast. Will that suit you?”

  I said it sounded good.

  He asked about Dorabella and we talked lightly as we rode along. Often we had to go in single file through narrow lanes so it was not possible to hold much of a conversation.

  We climbed fairly high and then descended into the fishing village to the Lion’s Head on the sea front.

  There were stables where we could leave the horses and we did this and went into the inn parlor.

  There was a similarity between these hotels and it would be hard to distinguish one from another. There was the traditional inglenook and the cosy, intimate atmosphere.

  We sat down and he ordered cider.

  “You’ll find little difference in that, either,” he said. “I expect it all comes from the same source.”

  When we were alone he went on: “Congratulations! I heard you have been snatched from the jaws of death.”

  I laughed. “Dorabella was right…”

  “In what way?”

  “She said you would have heard of it through the local news service.”

  “But of course. I was told at breakfast this morning by one of the servants. He has a dramatic touch. ‘That there Miss what’s-her-name, you do know, sir, the new one’s sister up at Tregarland’s, ’er had a near shave ’er did. Caught in that there cove. You do know how easy that can be, sir, the way that old tide do come in there…all of a rush like. And what was ’er doing down there? Didn’t know nothing about tides seemingly.’ ”

  His reproduction of the accent was very good. I laughed and he sat back surveying me.

  “The reporting is fairly accurate,” I said. “I was caught by the tide.”

  His face was grave now. “It could have been dangerous,” he said.

  “I know now. I just didn’t think of it.”

  “Very remiss of you.”

  “Well, it was an experience.”

  “I believe someone said, ‘Experience is the name we give to our mistakes.’ ”

  “It could only have been Oscar Wilde. It’s true, of course. But our mistakes do teach us not to repeat our follies.”

  “Well, then, it was not in vain.”

  “Gordon Lewyth was wonderful.”

  “I am sure he was. Quite a feat, I imagine, on that cliff face.”

  “It was a great good fortune for me that he happened to be passing and saw me.”

  He looked at me intently and said: “That was his good luck. I wish it had been mine.”

  “That’s very kind of you.”

  “Poor Lewyth. He’s in an invidious position.”

  “He is devoted to Tregarland’s.”

  “Yes, but the place will never be his. A pity. He’s done more for it than anyone. James Tregarland…”

&nb
sp; “That’s old Mr. Tregarland?”

  “Yes. He was letting the place run to ruin. He was not meant for the land. He’s clever, they say. He used to be something of a wit, I believe. He spent hardly any time here. He was always in London. Something of a gambler. He married late in life…a charming lady, by all accounts, but he wasn’t the sort to settle down. He just married for the sake of the family—so I’ve heard. His wife provided the required son, Dermot, and after a year or so, she died. Then the Lewyths came. She was a good-looking woman…some vague family connection, it was said, and with her her young son. Things settled down for a while, but James Tregarland was never one for the land. It was lucky that when Gordon grew up he could take over. He saved the place from disaster…just in time. Such estates can stand one indifferent generation but no more, so it was like a miracle that Gordon could take over and so efficiently. Though it is all for Dermot’s benefit.”

  “Dermot has the same indifference.”

  “It seems so. They should thank Heaven for Gordon.”

  “As I did yesterday. By the way, that boy in the stables. Do you know anything about him?”

  He looked puzzled.

  “I wondered if he would be an item of news. He seems a little mad. He said such a strange thing to me today just as I was coming out. He had evidently heard what happened on the cliffs yesterday, and he seemed to think that some evil force was at work to harm me.”

  “Harm you?”

  “Because of my connection with the Tregarlands…sister of the bride.”

  “Oh? What did he say?”

  “Something about the curse. That ancestor of yours who walked into the sea because of her blighted love affair is now taking her revenge on Tregarland women.”

  “Poor old Seth, was it? He’s said to be a little addlepated.”

  “Piskymazed, I have heard.”

  “It’s the same thing. It means mental confusion. He must have heard about your adventure yesterday and he thought of the first Mrs. Tregarland who was drowned. He connected the two.”

  “Has he always been like that?”

  “Oh, no. Something happened to him when he was about ten. He is the son of one of the grooms. He has a way with horses. There was an incident in the stables one day. A wild horse which broke free. The boy was there. He was knocked down and the horse rode over him. It damaged his head, and he has been strange ever since.”