Garth of Tregillis

by Henrietta Reid

  ‘Is this all you have to say to me?’ I asked flatly.

  For an instant I saw a flicker of change in his expression and I knew that he had noticed the sudden evaporation of my anger and hoped that he would not guess the reason why.

  ‘No, not all,’ he replied. ‘I suppose you know—you could hardly help hearing, since Tregillis is ringing with it—that we’re having a ball in the near future. You’ve been avoiding me in recent times.

  I’ve seen hardly anything of you, but I hope we’re on good enough terms to dance together at the ball.’

  ‘Am I to take this as an invitation?’ I asked.

  ‘Most certainly,’ he replied.

  ‘An invitation or a command?’ I asked. ‘Am I to attend as a guest or as an employee?’

  He had risen to his feet and I too was standing now. He took a quick stride towards me and stood looking down at me.

  I looked up at him defiantly. ‘I shall not attend,’ I said, and was aware that I had spoken more loudly than there was any need for.

  He reached out and caught me by the shoulders. ‘Oh yes, you will come. You’ll come because I say so, and we’ll dance at the ball no matter how antagonistic you are towards me. Why do you hate me so much? Even when you first came here you hated me. Why?

  Why?’ Unconsciously, I believe, he was shaking me as he spoke.

  And as I looked at him I knew that no matter what my attitude towards him had been at the beginning I now felt no hatred towards him. I was hopelessly in love with him—a love that could have no future and could bring me only suffering.

  ‘I shan’t come,’ I cried, and twisted in his hands trying to free myself. As I did so I caught a glimpse of a shadow on the wall behind me and next moment his lips had closed on mine and he was kissing me. Yet there was a bitter-sweetness in my happiness. The master of Tregillis was taking advantage of the moment. I was no more or less than a governess under his roof, one of many governesses Melinda had got rid of. And had it been for the same reason? Had she on one of her spying forays come on him in a similar situation and, in her childish jealousy, immediately set about making life intolerable for the unfortunate woman? Well, at least in me Garth Seaton would not find a willing victim. To give way to my feelings, to let him know I loved him, would bring me nothing but unhappiness. He was in love with Armanell. She had been the woman in his life even before her marriage. I was not going to follow in the footsteps of poor, tragic Diana who had loved so unwisely.

  Reluctantly I pulled away from him, wishing I could prolong the moment for ever.

  He was looking down at me and for a moment a long glance held us as though bound together.

  And then suddenly the moment was broken. ‘What’s going on here?’ a voice exclaimed sharply.

  Garth’s hands fell from my shoulders and I twirled to find Armanell standing in the doorway, regarding us with an expression of anger and amazement on her face.

  ‘Have I interrupted something?’ she asked.

  ‘We’ve just been having a disagreement,’ Garth told her.

  ‘Really, I don’t remember when I have seen two people who looked more in accord,’ Armanell said acidly.

  She was dressed in an aquamarine blue negligee over a nightdress that was a cascade of lace in the same colour and somehow she no longer looked like a Dresden figurine, but rather like a fluffy spitting tiger kitten, and suddenly the library was fresh with the scent of jasmine.

  As I gazed at her angry face my heart sank. I knew in that instant that I had made a bitter and implacable enemy.

  For a moment she stood, biting her lip, obviously making a great effort to control the vitriolic words that sprang to her lips.

  ‘I’d like you to come to my sitting-room tomorrow, Miss Westall,’ she said at last, her voice glacial. ‘It’s fairly obvious that you and I will have to have a discussion. I assumed when Mr.

  Seaton engaged you that you were entirely trustworthy and suitable in every respect. It’s fairly plain that I was much too trusting. It’s important that the woman in charge of my son should be above reproach. Tomorrow you and I will have to get a few points ironed out, Miss Westall.’

  Early on the following morning I went along to Armanell’s suite. It turned out to be even more beautiful than I had expected from the enthusiastic report of it I had heard from the garrulous Hilda.

  I found Armanell alone in her bedroom which was furnished with tiny period pieces in white with gilt and little enamelled medallions of Watteau-like pictures in the centre of the panels.

  When I had knocked on the door and entered I found her regarding me with surprise. It was clear that she had expected the caller to be Hilda. ‘You’ve come a little early, haven’t you?’ she said coldly.

  I nodded. ‘I thought, as you wished to see me, I might as well get the interview over as soon as possible,’ I said calmly.

  She was seated at the dressing-table in front of an array of make-up and as I looked at her I realized why she was so annoyed. She had not yet put on make-up. The early morning light was slanting through the long windows revealing crowfeet at the corners of her eyes and lines about her mouth, and I realized with shock that what Melinda had said was quite true—Armanell without make-up looked surprisingly old. It was quite clear that she was very annoyed at being caught in deshabille.

  However, she pulled herself together, indicated a chair and invited me to be seated. ‘I’d be interested to know exactly in what circumstances you came into Mr. Seaton’s employment,’ she began.

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean,’ I said.

  ‘I mean, how exactly did you chance to come across the advertisement? Mr. Seaton tells me he put it in a West Country paper, but it seems you live in London. How on earth did you come across the advertisement in a Cornish paper? Had you any connections with this part of the country?’

  I was taken aback by this turn in the conversation, and must have showed it.

  ‘Well, why don’t you answer?’ she demanded as I was silent.

  But I felt my mind gripped by confusion and all I could stammer was that I had a friend who came from this part of the country.

  ‘Indeed! Perhaps I know her name.’

  ‘She’s dead now,’ I said hurriedly, ‘and anyway, I can’t see what difference it makes how I saw the advertisement. The fact remains that Mr. Seaton apparently thought my qualifications good enough.

  I had been studying French—amongst other languages—at a Berlitz school.’

  ‘And you lived with your family in London?’

  I shook my head. ‘No, I’ve no family.’

  ‘You mean, then, that you lived alone in London? That must have afforded you considerable freedom of action.’ Her voice was silky smooth, but there was no mistaking her insinuation.

  ‘I lived with my friend,’ I said, ‘the Cornish friend I was talking about.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ she nodded. ‘The nameless friend!’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Did Mr. Seaton interview you before he accepted you?’

  ‘No, he seemed to think my qualifications spoke for themselves,’

  I said dryly.

  She stirred irritably. ‘You seem to be rather proud of your qualifications, Miss Westall. Excellent as they may be, they still don’t qualify you to intrude where you’re not welcome. I don’t wish to be unkind, but since I’ve arrived I’ve noticed that you’re continually pushing yourself forward, drawing Mr. Seaton’s attention to you. After all, let’s face it, your place is with the children and I’m perfectly sure you’re embarrassing Mr. Seaton dreadfully—only he’s much too polite to tell you so.’

  ‘I have never found politeness to be one of Mr. Seaton’s outstanding characteristics,’ I said dryly.

  She brushed this aside. ‘Mr. Seaton is a law unto himself. But, as I say, if you wish to avoid being hurt you should not be continually making yourself conspicuous and trying to attract his attention.’

  I could see that my cool reception of her words was beginning to irr
itate her intensely. She bent forward, studied her face intently in the mirror, then began to apply foundation.

  In the early morning light her skin was greyish and fatigued and it was as though her awareness of this added to her bitter anger.

  ‘Just keep out of the way and we’ll get on very well, Miss Westall.’

  ‘What exactly do you feel my attitude should be at the ball?’ I asked acidly, ‘or would you prefer I watched from the minstrels’

  gallery?’

  ‘The ball?’ Her face was bewildered.

  ‘I mean that Garth—that Mr. Seaton—has asked me to come.’

  ‘Oh!’

  I had the satisfaction of seeing her eyes widen and her mouth open unattractively, accentuating the hard lines that ran down her cheek. Then she laughed dismissingly. ‘But of course he would invite you! Haven’t you the gumption to see that it was merely a gesture? Noblesse oblige. He probably expected you to refuse. It was rather naive of you to accept, wasn’t it? I mean, it simply won’t be your crowd. I think it’s time I made the position plain to you, Miss Westall, as you appear to be under the ridiculous illusion that there is the possibility that Garth might be interested in you,’ she continued. ‘Mr. Seaton and I are to marry, and when we do there will be no place for you here at Tregillis.’

  I nodded. ‘I fully expected that.’

  ‘In fact there will be a good many changes here,’ she said tightly.

  ‘That little horror, Melinda, for instance! Her parents can take her out to Africa, or send her to a boarding-school, or do whatever they like with her—but she’s not staying here any longer.’

  There was a muffled exclamation that seemed to come from the far side of the room and I saw Armanell start and look uneasily towards the wall. ‘What was that?’ she exclaimed. ‘These old houses! I’m not surprised that most of them are considered haunted.’

  But I knew what the noise had been and immediately I felt alarmed. I was certain that Melinda was behind the panelling and had overheard Armanell’s plans concerning her future. Apart from that, the fact that the Comtesse had revealed her determination to marry Garth would be sufficient to drive Melinda into one of her strange destructive moods.

  Armanell finished applying make-up with the speed of one well used to it and the transformation was amazing. Once again she was the petite porcelain beauty. She stood up. ‘You would be wise to bear in mind what I’ve told you,’ she said tightly, then with a gesture of dismissal swept from the room.

  When she had gone I didn’t hesitate. I hurried back to my own room, opened the panel, stepped in and sped along the passage. But there was no sign of Melinda now in the part of the passage opposite Armanell’s bedroom, so I hurried along the part that led past the gallery and, to my relief, I caught sight of her at the end, in the light that slanted through the cracks in the panelling. As I approached I could see that her small figure was crouched down, her ear close to the panelling, listening intently.

  I hurried forward and was on the point of seizing her and pulling her to her feet, but she held her finger up to her mouth. ‘Hush,’ she whispered, ‘Armanell is telling Uncle Garth all about you.’

  I was on the point of virtuously hauling Melinda away from her listening post when I heard my own name mentioned and Armanell’s voice said loudly, ‘That girl will have to go, Garth.

  There’s something strange about her. I don’t believe she’s really a governess.’

  ‘And what has made you come to this extraordinary conclusion?’

  I heard Garth ask flatly.

  ‘Oh, let’s say it’s woman’s intuition! But there’s something strange—something not quite right about her. I mean, look at her clothes, for instance!’

  ‘What about her clothes?’

  ‘Well, that frock, the one she wore to the carnival!’

  ‘From what I remember of it, it appeared a simple cotton dress.’

  Armanell laughed shortly. ‘How typical of a man! Well, let me inform you that that simplicity was deceptive. That was an extremely expensive frock. Oh, I know she deliberately wore it to do the little-girl act, but she doesn’t deceive me. I know about clothes. She must have paid a mint for that dress—and for her other clothes, for that matter.’

  ‘I see, and what do you consider particularly sinister about the fact that she happens to like good clothes?’

  ‘Oh, don’t be a fool, Garth! How does she afford it? Unless you’re paying her an absolutely exorbitant salary she couldn’t possibly buy such expensive clothes.’

  ‘Let’s say the salary is generous without being princely,’ Garth’s voice was dry.

  But Armanell didn’t seem to be aware of his lack of cooperation. She was speaking excitedly now, a shrill, strident note entering her voice. ‘And another thing, Garth, she tells me you’ve invited her to the ball. Don’t you think it was a little indiscreet?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘After all, she is only the governess. She’ll get notions if you treat her in this way—begin demanding to accompany us everywhere.’

  ‘I don’t share your apprehensions,’ he replied. ‘On the contrary, I have always found Judith extremely proud and reserved. She would be the last person to thrust herself forward where she wasn’t wanted.’

  I was annoyed at the pleasure I felt as I heard him use my name.

  Always in our conversations it had been ‘Miss Westall,’ but it was obvious that in his own mind he thought of me as ‘Judith’—I could tell that by the natural and spontaneous way he said my name.

  Armanell was quick to note his use of my name. ‘Judith?’ she challenged.

  ‘Yes, I believe that’s her name,’ he said dryly.

  ‘Really, you’re impossible, Garth!’ cried Armanell.

  As she spoke I could hear the tapping of her heels on the parquet floor as she flounced away.

  ‘You’d better go back to your room now, Melinda,’ I whispered as soon as I had drawn my breath. I could feel my face white and tense in spite of my efforts to control my agitation before the child.

  But Melinda, with unchildlike perspicacity, had read my reaction to what we had overheard. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said consolingly as we made our way back along the passage, ‘I heard all the horrid, beastly things she said about you and I’ll get even with her for you.

  You’ll see.’

  ‘You must do nothing of the kind,’ I said severely. Knowing Melinda’s propensity for mischief I dreaded anything she might do.

  Besides, I rather suspected that any revenge Melinda might execute would be rather on her own behalf than mine. The thing Melinda most dreaded was anyone coming between her and her beloved Uncle Garth.

  ‘Promise,’ I urged.

  ‘I’ll do my best—for your sake,’ she allowed grudgingly, ‘but I may be driven past endurance, you know.’

  As I heard this I knew with a dreadful sinking feeling that Melinda was bent on mischief and that nothing I could do or say would stop her. I felt that she had determined on exacting some horrible revenge on Armanell and the idea that she would in some way involve me in this filled me with apprehension.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ONE afternoon a few days later I took the children to the Cove. We had planned a relaxing afternoon. Mrs. Kinnefer had been most gracious when the expedition had been mooted and had given orders that a picnic basket was to be prepared for us.

  We set off in high good humour. There were deep pools amidst the rocks in which the children could paddle and search for crabs in safety and I found a place in the shade and, seated on a rug, became immersed in the book I had taken from the library. The sun danced on the waters and the sky was a vivid blue and the time passed all too quickly.

  When the children became hungry we unpacked the hamper, Melinda showing an amusing gravity as she laid out a checked cloth on a flat rock and arranged the edibles with the care of a housewife.

  The children were delighted with Mrs. Kinnefer’s selection: there were doughnuts and ti
ny jellies in little plastic dishes with snap lids; bottles of lightly coloured fizzy lemonade; gingerbread, Chocolate biscuits in the shape of matchstick men with tiny blobs of white icing for eyes and mouth; apples, oranges and bananas.

  When the children had spooned up the last of the jellies, we packed the containers carefully into our picnic basket and the children resumed their operations. So far they hadn’t been very successful. A selection of rather diminutive crabs had been their booty. However, they began to search the pools on the opposite side of the cove and after warning them to be careful I settled down once again with my back to the rock and opened my book. The sun was warm on my face and soon the book dropped from my fingers as my thoughts drifted pleasantly towards the coming ball.

  There was no use in denying how glad I was that Garth had invited me. I would buy a simply wonderful dress for the event, I told myself. Not of course that I could hope to outshine Armanell!

  But it would be pleasant to emerge from the anonymity of being the governess, the colourless inhabitant of the schoolroom, high under the eaves. I lay back, my hands behind my head, staring at the blue sky, visualizing myself dancing in that glorious ballroom.

  I was aroused from my state of euphoria by a piercing scream from Emile. He came stumbling towards me across the pebbles : he was crying out something unintelligible and pointing towards the rocks that jutted into the sea at the edge of the cove. But already I was on my feet and running as best I could on the treacherous slippery surface to where the cove curved out into the sea. Here the rocks were interspersed with tiny seaweed-filled pools and Melinda, jumping from point to point, must have slipped on the slimy rocks. I could see her head bobbing in the water as she struggled to gain a foothold. But it was a hopeless effort and as I sprang into the water I saw her hair, so much like blanched seaweed now, sink beneath the surface.

  I swam as quickly as I could towards the spot where I had last seen her, but she was being drawn out with appalling swiftness into the bay. I swam desperately, summoning up all my skill, until at last I managed to catch hold of her dress. She fought wildly for a moment and then went limp and I realized that she was unconscious. In a way it was about the best thing that could have happened, for it enabled me to pull her back towards the shore without a wild and exhausting struggle.