Victoria Holt - Kirkland Revels

by Kirkland Revels (lit)

  " No, you have been kind to me. But I am shocked ... and I cannot believe that only this time yesterday ..."

  "Time will pass. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about. You are so young. You will go away from here ... at least I suppose you will.... You won't stay shut away here, will you?"

  " I do not know what I shall do. I have not thought about it."

  " Of course you have not. I was saying that you have your life before you. In a few years' time this will seem like a bad dream."

  " Some bad dreams one never forgets." 73 " Oh come, you must not be morbid. You are so close to tragedy that it overwhelms you. You will feel a little better to-morrow, and a little better every day."

  " You forget I have lost my husband."

  " I know, but ..." He smiled and laid his hand on my arm. " If there is anything I can do to help you ..."

  " Thank you. Dr. Smith. I shall remember your kindness." " We had returned to the grounds and walked across the front lawns in silence.

  As we approached the house I looked ap at the balcony and pictured what might have happened ... Gabriel, sitting on my bed, talking of the holiday we would have, making me drink my hot milk and then, when ] slept, coming quietly out on to the balcony and letting him elf fall. I shivered. " I don't believe it; I can't believe it. "

  I did not realise that I had spoken aloud until Dr. Smith said: " You mean you don't want to believe it. Sometimes the two are synonymous.

  Do not fret, Mrs. Rockwell. I hope you will look on me as something more than the family doctor. [ have been on terms of close friendship with the Rockwells for years, and you are now a member of that family.

  So do please remember that if you need my advice at any time, I shall be very happy to give it. "

  I scarcely heard him; I thought the faces of the devils looked gleeful, those of the angels sad.

  As I went in a feeling of desolation came over me, and I said quickly:

  " Friday is still missing."

  The doctor looked blank and I realised that he had probably not heard of the dog's disappearance, for in view of what had happened who would have thought to tell him?

  " I must find him," I went on.

  I left and hurried to the servants' hall to ask if Friday had been seen. No one had seen him. I went through the house calling him.

  But there was no response.

  So I had lost Gabriel and Friday . together.

  At the inquest the verdict was that Gabriel had taken his life while temporarily insane, in spite of my insistence that we had been planning to go to Greece. Dr. Smith explained that he had been suffering from a weakness of the heart which depressed him. It was his opinion that his marriage had brought home to him the magnitude of his infirmity and the consequent depression had forced him to act as he had done. This seemed to be considered an adequate reason and the verdict was given without demur. I was present at the inquest although Dr. Smith had advised me against going.

  "You will only distress yourself further," he said. Ruth agreed with him. But I had quickly recovered from my shock and I found a certain resentment mingling with my sorrow. Why, I kept asking myself, were they all so certain that Gabriel killed himself?

  I answered that myself How else could he have died? By accident? I tried hard to think of how it could have happened. Could he have leaned too far over the parapet and fallen? Was that possible?

  It must be possible, because it was the only reasonable explanation.

  Over and over again I tried to picture it. Suppose he went on to the balcony as he so frequently did. Suppose something below caught his attention. Friday! I thought excitedly What if Friday had appeared down there and he called to him and in his excitement leaned over too far?

  But they had already passed their verdict and they would not have believed me. They would have called me a hysterical bride.

  I had written to my father to tell him of Gabriel's death, and he came to the funeral. I had been pleased when I heard that he was coming, believing that he would have some comfort to offer me. Childishly I had expected that my trouble might bring us closer together; but as soon as I saw him I realised how foolish I had been. He was as remote as ever.

  He sought an opportunity to speak to me before we left for the church, but I was conscious all the time that to him it was a painful duty.

  " Catherine," he asked. " what are your plans?"

  " Plans 1" I echoed blankly, for I had not considered my future. I had lost the only two who had loved me--for as each day passed I began to despair of finding Friday--and I could think of nothing but my loss.

  My father seemed a little impatient.

  "Yes, yes. You'll have to decide what you're going to do now. I suppose you could stay here or come back...."

  I had never felt quite so lonely in the whole of my life I kept thinking of Gabriel's solicitude for me, his eagerness to be with me every minute of the night and day. I thought:

  If only Friday would suddenly come bounding up to me, leaping into my arms, I might have something to plan for.

  I said stonily: " I have made no plans so far."

  " Perhaps it's early yet," he replied in his weary voice, " but if you should want to come back, you must of course."

  I turned away from him; I could not trust myself to speak.

  How melancholy it was when the hearse and carriages arrived with the plumed horses and velvet palls and the mutes dressed in black from head to foot. Gabriel was buried in the Rockwell vault in which lay so many of his ancestors. I wondered if those others were there the two who had died in the same way.

  I returned with the rest of. the family to the house and we solemnly drank wine and ate the funeral meats which had been prepared for us. I felt a stranger in my widow's weeds. I was so pale that I looked like a ghost, and there seemed no colour in my face except that of my vivid green eyes. Surely mine was a most extraordinary fate to be a bride and widow in less than two weeks.

  My father left immediately after the funeral saying that he had a long journey ahead of him and adding that he would expect to hear from me what my plans were for the future. Had he shown me in some small way that he really wanted me, I should have been eager to go back with him.

  I was drawn to Sir Matthew, who had lost all his jauntiness since the tragedy. He was very kind to me and made me sit beside him when all the mourners, who were not members of the family, had gone.

  " How do you feel, my dear," he asked me, " in this house full of strangers?"

  " I do not feel anything but a numbness now, an emptiness," I told him.

  He nodded. " If you wish to stay here," he said, " you would always be welcome. This was Gabriel's home and you were Gabriel's wife. If you want to go away, I shall under stand, but I should be very sorry."

  " You are kind to me," I said, and those words of kindness brought the tears, which till now I had not been able to shed, to my eyes.

  Simon had come to stand beside me. He said: "You will go away from here. What is there for you? It is so dull in the country, is it not?"

  " I came from the country," I said.

  " But after those years in France." 76 " I am surprised that you remember so much of my affairs."

  " I have a very good memory. It is the only good thing about me. Yes, you will go away. You will be more free than you were ... more free than you have ever been before." He changed the subject abruptly.

  "Those weeds become you."

  I felt there was something behind his words, but I was too weary and too obsessed with thoughts of Gabriel to give him much of my attention.

  I was glad when Luke came over to us and began to talk of other matters.

  " It doesn't do to dwell on all this," he said. " We've got to forget.

  We've got to go on living. "

  I thought I detected a certain glitter in his eyes. He was, after all, the new heir. Was his grief for Gabriel rather superficial?

  I was trying to hold off frightening notions which were creeping i
nto my mind. I did not really believe that Gabriel had had an accident on the balcony. I did not believe that he had deliberately killed himself.

  But what else was there to believe?

  When Gabriel's will was read I learned that he- had left me, although not rich, comfortably off. I had an income which would make me independent. This was a surprise because, although I had known that Kirkland Revels would pass to Gabriel on his father's death, together with an income adequate for its upkeep, I had not realised that he had so much money of his own.

  The fact of my new affluence cheered me a little, and this was only due to the promise of freedom which it held out.

  A week passed and I was still at the Revels, each day hoping for the return of Friday even though the days passed without sign of him.

  I knew that the family were waiting for me to come to a decision as to whether or not I was going to stay, and I found it difficult to make up my mind. This house was of great interest to me; I felt that there was so much I did not know and only by staying could I discover it. I had a right to live here; I was Gabriel's widow. His father clearly wanted me to stay and, I believed, so did Aunt Sarah; but I thought Ruth would have been relieved to see me go. I wondered why. Was it because she did not care to have another female in the house, or was there some other reason? As for Luke, 77 he was friendly in a breezy manner ; but I had a notion that he did not care either way. He was immersed in his own affairs, and try as he might he could not hide hu new importance.

  He was the heir of Kirkland Revels and, in view of Sir Matthew's age and infirmity, it could not be many more years before he was its master.

  The Smiths were frequently at the house now, and when the doctor visited Sir Matthew which he did each day he invariably made a point of seeing me too. He was always kind and solicitous; he made me feel as though I were a patient, and, during that unhappy time when I mourned for Gabriel and Friday. He seemed to be concerned about my health.

  " You have suffered a great shock," he told me, " perhaps greater than you realise. We must see that you take care of yourself."

  He was giving me that solicitude which I had sought in vain from my father, and I began to wonder whether one of the reasons why I lingered on at the house was because of Dr. Smith, for it seemed that he understood my grief and loneliness as no one eke did.

  Damaris often drove over with her father, always cool, always serene and beautiful. I could see that Luke was in love with her but it was impossible to know what her feelings for him were. She was inscrutable. If Luke had his way he would marry her, but they were both so young at present and I doubted whether Sir Matthew or Ruth would allow Luke to many for some time. And who knew what could happen in three, four or five years?

  I had a feeling that I was marking time. I had not recovered from that strange numbness which had come to me when I heard I was a widow, and I could make no plans until I was free of it. If I left Kirkland Revels, where should I go? Back to Glen House? I thought of those dark rooms made bright only by the filtering of light through the Venetian blinds.

  I thought of Fanny's pursed lips and my father's " bad turns."

  No, I was not eager to return to Glen House; yet I was not sure that I wanted to stay at the Revels. What I wanted was to clear away this ignorance which shut me in like a fog. I believed if I could do that I should understand . what?

  I walked each day and my footsteps always seemed to lead me to the Abbey. I had found in the Revels library an old plan of the place as it must have been before the 1530's and 78 [be Dissolution, and it took my mind from morbid thoughts to attempt to reconstruct the old building on those ruins. The plan was a great help and I was able to identify certain landmarks. I was excited when I came upon what must have been the chapel of nine altars, the monks' dorter, the gate house, the kitchens and the bake houses I also discovered the fish-ponds.

  There were three of these, a grassy bank separating them from each other.

  I wondered whether Friday had fallen into one of these and been drowned. Impossible. They could not be very deep and he would swim to the bank. Nevertheless I called him whenever I came to the Abbey, which I knew was foolish even as I did it; but I could not bear to face the fact that he was gone for ever. I must continue to hope.

  I remembered the day when I had first seen Dr. Smith at this spot and he had said that Friday ought to have been brought here on a lead. As soon as I had recovered sufficiently from the shock of Gabriel's death, I had gone to the old well to look for Friday, but there was no sign of him there.

  One day returning from my walk I took a new route and consequently arrived at the back of the house instead of the front, so I entered through a door I had not hitherto used I was in the east wing of the house a part with which I was not yet familiar. All the wings, I discovered, were almost identical with each other, except that the main staircase which led down to the hall past the minstrels' gallery was in the south wing.

  I mounted a flight of stairs to the third floor, knowing that there were communicating corridors between the wings, and I thought I should easily find my way to my own apartments But this was not so, for I found myself in a maze of corridors and I was not sure which was the door which communicated with the south wing.

  I hesitated because I was afraid I might walk into someone's private room.

  I knocked at several doors, opened them and found a bed room or'a sitting-room, a sewing-room, but not the corridor 1 was looking for.

  I could either retrace my steps, leave the house and enter by the front door, or continue my search. I decided on the latter realising that it was the only thing to do, for how could [ be sure that I would find my way out of such a maze?

  In desperation I tried more doors, only to be disappointed 79 At length when I knocked on one a voice said: " Come in." I entered and Aunt Sarah was standing so close to the door IIIC'AK;! that she startled me and I jumped back.

  She laughed and put out a thin hand with which she clutched my sleeve.

  " Come in," she said. " I've been expecting you, my dear."

  She ran round me as I entered she seemed more nimble than she was when with the rest of the family and quickly shut the door as though she was afraid I would try to escape " I know," she said, " you've come to see my tapestries That's it, isn't it?"

  " I should greatly enjoy seeing your tapestries," I told her. "

  Actually I lost myself. I came in by the east door. I have never done that before."

  She shook a finger at me as though I were a naughty child " Ah, it's easy to lose your way ... when you don't know. You must sit down."

  I was not sorry to do so because I was quite tired from my walk.

  She said: " It was sad about the little dog. He and Gabriel went together. Two of them ... lost. That is sad."

  I was surprised that she remembered Friday, and felt at a loss with her, because it was perfectly obvious that at times her mind wandered, that she flitted from past to present in a manner which was disconcerting; but there were occasions when she was capable of unexpected clarity.

  I noticed that the walls of this large room were hung with tapestry, all exquisitely worked in bright colours ; I was looking at it in fascination when she noticed this and chuckled with pleasure.

  "That's all my own tapestry," she said.

  "You see what a large space it covers ... but there is so much more to be done. Perhaps I shall fill every bit of the walls ... unless I die.

  I am very old. It would be sad if I died before I had finished all I had to do." The melancholy expression was replaced by a dazzling smile. " But that is in the hands of God, is it not? Perhaps if I ask Him in my prayers to let me have a little longer. He will. Do you still say your prayers, Claire? Come and look at my tapestry ... come closer. And I will tell you all about it."

  She had taken my hand; her fingers were restless and moved continually; they felt like claws.

  " It's exquisite work," I said.

  "You like it? Claire, you didn't work
hard enough at 80 yours. I have told you many times that it is easy ... easy ... if you persevere.

  I know you had a great deal to do. You used to say that Ruth was such a wilful little thing. Mark was good though ... and then there was a new one coming ..."

  I said gently: "You have forgotten, Aunt Sarah. I am not Claire. I am Catherine, Gabriel's widow."

  "So you have come to see my tapestry, Catherine. It is time you did. I know you will like it ... you more than any." She came close to me and peered into my face. " You will figure in my tapestry. I shall know when the time has come."

  " I?"

  I asked, bewildered.

  " Here. Come close. Look. Do you recognise this?"

  "It's the house ..."