Victoria Holt - Kirkland Revels

by Kirkland Revels (lit)

  I had no qualms about it bee I had were perfectly cut an company. I did my hair in liked so much; and I was < dress, for time was passing.

  As he did not come, I we and I went on to the balcony He was nowhere in sight, b coming from the porch.

  I was about to call out an' " I heard a deep masculine You have not taken to our little 1 I drew back, feeling the li I knew that listeners are said i Fanny had told me that oft el when you overhear yourself ingly, to refrain from listenn " It's early yet," answered There was a laugh. " I've easy prey. "

  I did not hear Ruth's reply " Why did you let him stray si to find some little fortune-hu I was furiously angry. I v and tell whoever was speakin, him ; I wanted to tell him that position when I had marriec I stood still, my eyes blazi; a little, and by leaning over 1 was light brown and he see mi a resemblance to the Rockw stepped forward suddenly into I hated him, whoever he was I was trembling as I went was already there. He was on hurrying.

  " I forgot the time," he sai Where have you been? Why It was on the tip of my heard, but I changed my mil was breathless now. No, I would fight my own battles; I should have to teach this relative, whoever he was, a lesson. So I helped Gabriel dress and when we went down I met my enemy.

  He was Simon Redvers, the cousin; he looked less broad when seen on the level. He was very tall, a fact I had not fully realised looking down at him.

  Gabriel introduced me, and when he took my hand those cynical eyes looked straight into mine and I knew exactly what he was thinking. His eyes were light brown and his skin deeply bronzed; his mouth was smiling slightly but his eyes were not. I knew my own were flashing with anger, for I had never found it easy to restrain my feelings and I could not get the sound of his words out of my ears.

  " How do you do?" he said.

  " I am well, thank you," I answered.

  " I suppose I should congratulate you."

  " Pray do not, unless you wish to."

  He was faintly amused, and I could not resist saying: "I Oelieve we have met before."

  " I am certain we have not."

  " You may not have been aware of the meeting."

  " If it had taken place, I am convinced, I should remember."

  I matched my smile with his. He was puzzled and he said:

  "It is the Rockwell resemblance, no doubt. You'll find it again and again in these parts."

  I guessed he was referring to the amorous proclivities of his ancestors, and I thought this indelicate so I turned away.

  There was, fortunately, a diversion created by the arrival of Dr.

  Smith and his daughter.

  The doctor was already a friend. He came over to me and greeted me warmly. I was pleased to give my attention to him, but the girl who accompanied him immediately claimed it, and, I imagine, that of everyone in the room.

  Damaris Smith was one of the loveliest creatures I had ever seen. She was of medium height and very dark her hair smooth and silky with that blackness which has a sheen of blue in it, like a bird's wing. Here eyes were black, long and languorous, her skin olive; and the shape of her face was a perfect oval; her lips were delicately formed yet sensuous; her teeth white; her nose almost aquiline, giving dignity as well as beauty. But it was not merely her face which caught and held the attention. It was her slim, lissome body also ; all her movements were full of grace. She was a joy to look at. 59 Dressed in white, as I was, she wore a gold belt about her tiny waist and in her ears were gold Creole earrings.

  There was silence as she entered--the silence which was homage to her beauty.

  I asked myself: Why did Gabriel marry me when there was such a goddess on his very doorstep?

  The effect she had on everyone was apparent. Her father obviously adored her, for his eyes rarely left her; Luke, I imagined, was less nonchalant than usual; Simon Redvers seemed to watch her almost speculatively. Already I disliked him intensely, seeing in him a type I could never tolerate. He would be a man to scorn sentiment; he would be practical in the extreme; he would be unimaginative, believing everyone else looked at life with the same calculating gaze; there was great virility there. His personality was overpowering so that it dominated the company in its masculine way as Damaris's beauty did in the feminine. Sir Matthew's admiration was apparent; but then he admired all women, it seemed ; and during the dinner party he divided his attention between myself and Damaris.

  Damaris herself I did not fully understand; she was a quiet person who had a smile for everyone and did not seek in the least to call attention to herself, which was, of course, unnecessary. The first impression she gave was that she was merely an innocent girl; I don't know what made me feel that that smooth, rather expressionless perfection was a mask.

  The dinner was in honour of Gabriel and myself, and our health was drunk. Apart from the family there were the Smiths, Simon Redvers, the vicar and his wife and two other local people, neighbours, I gathered, rather than great friends.

  I was asked what I thought of the house and the countryside, and Simon Redvers wanted to know how it compared with that part from which I had come. I answered that when not at school I had lived as close to the moor as they did, so that the change was not very great. I believe a note of asperity came into my voice when I addressed the man, that he noticed it and it amused him.

  He, who was sitting next to me at dinner, leaned to me and said: " You must have your portrait painted so that it can be added to those in the gallery."

  " Is that necessary?"

  " Indeed, yes. Have you not seen the gallery? All the 60 masters of Kirldand Revels are painted and hung with their wives beside them."

  " There's plenty of time for that."

  " You'll make a good subject."

  " Thank you."

  " Proud ... strong ... determined."

  " So you read character?"

  " When it is there for me to see."

  " I had no idea that I had such a legible face."

  He laughed. " It's unusual in one so young. Don't you agree that as one grows older fate ... life ... whatever you call it ... is like a mischievous artist, gradually etching the lines of betrayal?" He gazed along the table; I refused to follow his gaze, but looked down at my plate. I though his manners too candid, and I wanted him to know this.

  "I believe you doubt my word," he insisted.

  " I believe what you say to be true, but is it not a little embarrassing even impertinent to test the theory on toe present company?"

  " You'll discover that I'm a blunt Yorkshireman; and they are not noted for their tact."

  " Why speak of the future? I have already made the discovery."

  I saw the smile touch his lips again; I thought it rather a brutal smile. He enjoyed baiting me because I was a worthy opponent. At least I had the satisfaction of knowing that, even if he did consider me a fortune-hunter, he did not find me a simpering one. I came to the conclusion in that moment that he had a grudging admiration for me, partly because he believed I had endeavoured to catch Gabriel, as he would put it, and had achieved my object. There was a ruthlessness in him which would always admire success.

  I said impulsively: "You are Gabriel's cousin, or second cousin, are you not? Yet how unlike him you are! You are absolute opposites."

  He gave me that cool, appraising smile again. I was telling him that I did not like him; and he was retaliating by implying that I would not have caught him as I had caught Gabriel. As if I should have wanted to! As if there had been any " catching " in our marriage!

  " Talking of faces," he said, " you've looked at the gallery. What a splendid example of the revelations of physiognomy. You can see old Sir John who went on fighting for his King to the fury of Cromwell. He lost us the Revels for a while, that 61 one. You can see his obstinate idealism in his face. Then there's Sir Luke, the gambler who nearly gambled away our inheritance. And then there's that other Luke, and John ... the suicides. If you look long enough you can read their histories in their faces. Take that Luke, for instance. You s
ee the weakness of the mouth. You can imagine him, finding life too difficult and standing there on the west balcony, and suddenly ... over ..."

  I realised then that the others at the table had become silent and were listening to Simon.

  Sir Matthew leaned forward and patted my arm. " Don't listen to my nephew," he said. " He's telling you about our disreputable ancestors.

  Simon's annoyed because he's a Rockwell on the distaff side . and the Revels is not for him. "

  I saw that inscrutable gleam in Simon's eyes and said:

  " I dare say you have a pleasant residence of your own."

  " Kelly Grange!" Sir Matthew almost spat out the words. " The Redvers family were always jealous of the Revels." He pointed to Simon. " His grandfather married one of my sisters but she wouldn't stay away from the Revels. She was always coming back and bringing first her son, then her grandson, with her. Don't see you here so often now, Simon."

  " I must remedy that," said Simon; and he was smiling ironically at me.

  There was a deep chuckle from Sir Matthew which seemed to shock the vicar and his wife.

  So the conversation progressed and, in spite of my dislike of my neighbour at the dinner table, I was a little sorry when it was over;

  I enjoyed a battle, and I was enjoying mine with him although it was merely one of words. I told myself that I particularly disliked those people who were ready to be critical before they knew the truth. I was sure Simon Redvers was one of these.

  After dinner the ladies retired to the drawing-room and I tried to get to know Damaris; but it was not easy; she was pleasant, but so reserved that she made little effort to help with the conversation, and I decided that a blank mind lay behind that lovely face. I was pleased when the men joined us; and when Simon Redvers kept at Damaris's side rather to the chagrin of Luke I was glad and gave myself up to conversation with the vicar, who told me how the grounds of the Revels were used for the church annual garden party and that he and his wife were trying to arrange to do a miracle play or pageant in the Abbey ruins next Midsummer Night's 62 eve. He hoped that I would support his endeavours, and I told him that I should be delighted to do all I could.

  It was shortly after dinner that Sir Matthew was taken ill He lay back in his chair, his face a deeper purple than usual. Dr. Smith was immediately at his side, and with the help of Simon and Luke took Sir Matthew to his room. The incident naturally broke up the party, but when Dr. Smith rejoined us he told us that Sir Matthew would be all right. He was going back to his home for leeches. Sir Matthew always insisted on being bled in such a manner as his father had before him.

  " He'll be about again in a day or so," the doctor assured us before he left.

  But the party spirit had gone and we sat on talking desultorily.

  When Gabriel and I retired it was about eleven-thirty. He put his arms about me and told me that I had been a success and he was proud of me.

  " I'm not sure that I was very popular with everybody," I said.

  " Who could fail to be charmed?"

  " That cousin of yours for one."

  " Oh, Simon! He was born a cynic. He is jealous. He'd throw away Kelly Grange for the Revels any day. You wait till you see the Grange.

  It is not half the size of the Revels- it's an ordinary old manor house."

  " I don't understand why his desire for the Revels should affect his attitude to me."

  " Perhaps he's jealous of me for more reasons than one."

  "How absurd!"

  At that moment Friday ran to the door and began barking furiously while he leaped at the door as though he would break it down.

  " What on earth's the matter with him?" I cried.

  Gabriel had turned pale. " Someone's out there," he whispered.

  " It's evidently someone Friday doesn't like." I turned to Friday. "

  Be quiet, Friday."

  But Friday for once ignored me; he continued to bark and jump frienziedly up at the door.

  I picked him up and opened the door.

  "Who's there?" I called.

  There was no answer, but Friday was struggling out of my arms.

  "Something has disturbed him," I said.

  "I'm going to 63 put him on his lead. I don't want him jumping over the balcony."

  Still holding him I went back to the room for his lead and slipped it on; and when I set him down he tugged at it with all his might.

  He dragged me along the corridor, but before we reached the balcony door he leaped at another to the left of it. I tried this and it opened easily. It was a large empty cupboard, and Friday ran into it and began sniffing around.

  I opened the balcony door, and there was no one on the balcony either.

  " You see, Friday," I said. " It's nothing. What is it that's bothering you?"

  I returned with him to the bedroom. Gabriel had his back to me as I entered the room. When he turned I saw how pale he was; and a terrible thought came to me then: he was afraid of what was out there and he had let me go alone. Was the man I had married a coward?

  It was a horrible thought which I discarded almost as soon as it entered my head.

  " Much ado about nothing," I said lightly.

  Friday appeared completely to have satisfied himself ; when I took him off the lead, he leaped into his basket and curled up there.

  As I prepared myself for bed I wondered what Gabriel had been so disturbed about.

  Then I remembered the conversation at dinner and I asked myself whether Gabriel had thought it was a ghost prowling out there. The balcony certainly had a morbid attraction for him.

  But in a house like this fancies came easily.

  It was late during the next afternoon when I discovered that Friday was missing. I remembered then that I had not seen him since the morning.

  It had been a busy morning, for the guests of the previous night all paid duty calls to give conventional thanks.

  I saw Simon Redvers ride up on a magnificent grey horse, and I decided to stay in my room until he had left; I did not see him leave and was afraid that I should find he was staying to luncheon; however, when I went down he had gone. Dr. Smith and Damaris had ridden over in his brougham-the doctor to see how Sir Matthew was after his attack, 64

  Damaris to pay her duty call. With all the guests arriving it seemed like a continuation of the party.

  It was just before dinner when I began to be anxious about Friday's absence. / Dinner was a solemn meal that evening and there was little conversation. Sir Matthew was still in his room and I guessed that everyone was worried on his account although they assured me that such turns were frequent.

  When the meal was over and there was still no sign of Friday, I was really alarmed. I went up to our room; his basket, with the folded blanket, was neat and had clearly not been used by him. Was it possible that he was lost?

  I wondered if he had been stolen, and when I thought of the ill-treatment he had received at the hands of the gipsy woman I felt sick with worry. It was possible that there were gipsies not far from Kirkland Moorside, for the moor was always an attraction to them.

  I slipped on a light coat and went downstairs, intending to ask Gabriel to come with me to look for him, but as I could not find him I went out alone, calling Friday as I did so.

  I found my footsteps wandering towards the Abbey. At any other time I might have found it awe-inspiring; on this evening my thoughts were all for Friday.

  I kept calling his name, straining my ears for an answering bark.

  There was nothing.

  It was an uncanny experience to stand there among those ruins . alone.

  It had been a glorious day and there were signs of a fine day to follow. The old saying came into my head: Red sky at night, shepherd's delight.

  Then suddenly the fear came to me. I felt that I was not alone; that through those narrow slits, which had once been windows, eyes watched me. The glow from the sky touched the stones so that they looked rosy; and the ridiculous fancy came to me th
at life was being breathed into them.

  I did not know what had happened to me, but I expected to hear the chanting of monks as they walked down the nave. I felt my heart hammering as I looked up at the arches through which I glimpsed the blood-red sky. I imagined that somewhere, not far distant, I heard a stone dislodged and, following that, a footstep.

  " Who's there?" I called; and the hollow sound of my own voice startled me.

  I looked about me. There was nothing but those piles of stones, those half-walls, those rectangles of brick within which the grass grew. Here a community of men had lived long ago and I could almost believe that I was moving back in time, that the half-walls would become walls in their entirety, that a roof would appear to shut out the sky and this nineteenth century.