“Well, what is going to happen?”
“I don’t know. She talked as though it were the old man who would make the objections. I can’t quite see that somehow. I expect it will be all right.”
But it was not. Mr. Tregarland was adamant.
He said: “I appreciate your feelings, and I am sure the boy would be very well looked after with you, but he is a Tregarland. He is my grandson. He will own this place one day. No, no, I thank you for your kindness, but I could not allow the boy to leave his home.”
Both my mother and I were dumbfounded.
My father said: “We shall have to accept. His father will insist that he stay.”
“I don’t think Dermot would insist.”
“He will stand with his father, poor chap. He is stunned by this. He has lost his wife. It is natural, I suppose, that he does not want to lose his son as well.”
There was a great deal of discussion and at last my mother had to accept the fact that she was not going to be allowed to take Tristan back with her.
As for myself, I was in a quandary.
There had been a time when I had felt I wanted to get away from this place, and now I was realizing that I did not want to go.
I could not rid myself of the notion that Dorabella was alive. I felt certain that one day I should see her again. There was a mistake. I thought of the most wildly impossible solutions. She had drifted out to sea; she had lost her memory; she had been picked up by a ship. She was alive somewhere. Her body had never been found, and I knew that until it was I should believe she was alive. It was ridiculous, of course, but I had to cling to something. She and I had been so close; we were, as she said, like one person; there was that bond between us…that gossamer cord to which she had once referred. I felt it there now.
I dreamed of her and in that dream she came to my room as she had in reality. She said: “Remember your promise. If I am not there, you will look after my baby. Swear…”
And I had given my promise. It had been a sacred one. I had to keep it.
I said to my mother: “Dorabella once said a strange thing. She made me swear that I would look after her child if she were not here.”
“What?” cried my mother.
“She came to my room one night. She said we had always been like one person and if anything happened to her I was to look after her child. I swore I would. When you go…I shall stay here.”
“Violetta, listen to me. That sounds noble, but you can’t shut yourself away down here. It is not fair to you. Oh, if only they’d be sensible and let me take Tristan!”
But I had decided that, whatever the opposition, I must keep my word to Dorabella.
I had a chance to speak to Dermot. He looked strained and all the gaiety was gone from him. His eyes were bloodshot, and I noticed how his hands trembled. I hardly recognized him as the merry, insouciant young man whom we had met in the Böhmerwald.
He kept saying: “I can’t believe it, Violetta. I can’t believe it.”
“Nor I,” I told him.
A wild look came into his eyes. “And, to go that way…” he murmured. “What does it mean?”
I shook my head.
“It’s the same…it’s so strange…How could they both…in the same way?”
“She shouldn’t have gone to bathe.”
“I knew. I didn’t think that could happen. People do bathe in the early morning.” He put his hands over his eyes. “She took to it suddenly. For a week or so before. She used to go down to the beach in the early morning. I was surprised, but she was always surprising me. It was what made her so attractive.”
“Yes, I know. Some idea would come to her and she would be all enthusiasm and then she’d forget all about it.”
He nodded miserably. Poor Dermot. He had really cared deeply for her. I had come to realize that he was rather weak, leaving everything in the hands of Gordon Lewyth, wanting a life devoid of responsibility.
“Dermot,” I said. “There is one thing I want to ask you. It is about Tristan.”
He gazed at me questioningly, with tears in his eyes, and I went on: “Dorabella once spoke to me very seriously. I think she must have had some premonition that she was not going to live. It was just before his birth and I imagined she thought she was not going to survive. She and I were exceptionally close…as twins are sometimes. She asked me if I would look after Tristan if she were not here. We would have taken him back to Caddington with us, but your father does not wish it. But I have given my word to Dorabella and I want to keep it. I must keep it. I want to stay here for a while…to look after Tristan.”
“I am glad,” he said. “I feel that is what she would have wanted.”
“She did want it. She made me swear I would. Dermot, will it be all right for me to stay until I can work something out? At the moment I feel so muddled and uncertain about everything. But if I may just stay…”
“But of course. You will be very welcome.”
“If you would tell Matilda and your father that Dorabella particularly wanted me to be with the boy…”
“I will speak to my father and Matilda.” He looked suddenly resolute. “I know it would be what Dorabella would have wanted. Thank you, Violetta. I am glad you will stay.”
My parents left soon after that. They were reluctant to leave me, but everything was so inconclusive. How long did I intend to stay, my mother was wondering. She said I was putting myself into a backwater. She would be thinking that Richard Dorrington could help me to grow away from this terrible grief. At times like this it was better to look ahead to the future.
The baby was too young to miss his mother, and Nanny Crabtree was remaining. She thought in due course the Tregarlands might realize that Tristan would be better off with his maternal grandparents.
When I had said goodbye to them, I felt very melancholy and went to the nursery to see Tristan.
It brought me comfort to hold him in my arms. Nanny Crabtree stood by watching. We were her children…myself as well as Tristan, and she knew what the loss of Dorabella meant to me.
She said: “He knows you. Look at his little face. You and me, Miss Violetta, we’ll see that he’s all right.”
A few days after my parents returned I received a letter from Richard.
My dearest,
I have been talking to your parents. What a terrible tragedy this is! I have heard that you intend to stay with the child. Your mother has explained to me.
I hope you are thinking about our marriage. It is what I want more than anything on earth. Do write to me. I shall come down to see you there as soon as I can arrange it. Then we can talk of the future.
I am feeling this with you. I have heard from Edward, as well as from your mother, how close you and your sister were, and I know what you must be suffering. I wish I could be with you to show you how deeply I feel for you.
Please write to me. I want to be in constant touch.
All my love to you,
Richard
It was a comforting letter. I was reminded of how kind and understanding he was.
It amazed me that, ever since I had heard that devastating news, I had not given him a thought.
I was surprised when Jowan Jermyn called at the house. One of the maids came to tell me that he was in the hall and had asked to see me. I noticed the look of surprise and excitement on her face.
Surprise, of course, that he had the temerity to call, and excitement at the thought of what a stir this news would create when she released it.
It was true that he had been invited to the house for lunch, but that was some time ago, and since then there would have been plenty of rumors. I had no doubt that Dorabella’s death would be attributed to some uncanny connection with the feud.
I went down to the hall, and there he was, standing with his back to the fireplace, his hands clasped behind him.
He came forward and took my hands, holding them firmly in his.
“I am so sorry,” he said earnestly.
“Thank you for coming,” I said.
“I should so like to talk to you,” he went on. “I heard you were staying here for a while, although your parents have left.”
“That’s so,” I said. “There is the baby…”
“Could you come and have lunch somewhere?”
“Do you mean today?”
“If that is possible. I have a car outside.”
I hesitated. My spirits lightened a little at the prospect. I could leave a message for Matilda that I should not be in to lunch today.
As we drove through the country lanes, he said: “I know a quiet place close to the moor. We can talk in comfort there.”
“I suppose you know everything that has happened,” I said.
“I don’t know about everything, but there is no talk hereabouts of anything but this tragedy.”
“It seems incredible to me still.”
I was staring blankly ahead, seeing her face, laughing at me, scorning me because of some priggish sentiment I had just expressed. I would have given anything to hear her laugh like that again.
He took his hand from the steering wheel and placed it over mine for a moment.
“So,” he said, “you have stayed on though your parents have gone.”
“Yes. I am helping with the baby.”
“Yes, with the nanny whose name is Crabtree.”
“She was nanny to my sister and to me. Mother procured her for Tristan.”
“Her name is often mentioned.”
“You mean by the gossips.”
“Oh, yes, she’s something of a dragon by all accounts. At least she hasn’t much time for the people around here.”
“I think she despises most people who weren’t born within the sound of Bow Bells.”
“Ah, I see.”
We were silent for a moment. I sensed that he wished to talk about the tragedy but was not sure what effect it would have on me.
We were seated opposite each other in the small hotel on the edge of the moor, when he regarded me gravely and said: “Do you mind talking about it?”
“It is uppermost in my mind,” I confessed.
“Do you think it was all a little strange…?”
“Yes, I do,” I replied.
“Do you believe in coincidences?”
“I suppose there are such things.”
“Yes, I suppose so, but…”
“You mean the way she died?”
“Yes. Two in the same way. Doesn’t that sound a little odd to you?”
“Yes.”
“You know what they are saying here?”
“I can guess.”
“That it is the revenge of the Jermyns on the Tregarlands, of course.”
“Oh, they can’t really believe that.”
“They can. They seize on this as a proof that the feud is as firm as ever; and the attempt to break it has not pleased my unfortunate ancestor.”
“I suppose it could have come about naturally. Dorabella was not a strong swimmer. Dermot’s first wife was, according to her mother. I cannot understand why Dorabella should have suddenly decided she wanted to take an early morning swim. If only I had been here…I should never have left. She did not want me to. In fact, she pleaded with me to stay. I said I would come back soon and she would be able to come home to us when the baby was older…and this happened when I was not there…”
“Do you think if you had been here you would have been able to prevent it?”
“I just have a feeling that it might not have happened then.”
He was silent for a while.
“It is odd,” he said. “Two of them to die that way. People here naturally put their own construction on it. Of course, it could have happened quite naturally. My ancestor did not want to live and she walked into the sea, never intending to come back; Annette…she could have had a sudden attack of cramp…and your sister, well, that could have happened to her, too. It is just an extraordinary coincidence that a man should have two wives who die by drowning at the same spot.”
“What are people suggesting?”
“I don’t quite know. But…I am a little uneasy. I think…you should be watchful.”
“What do you mean? That you…suspect something?”
“I don’t know what I feel. I just don’t like the thought of your being there…in a place where two such events could take place.”
I looked at him in surprise. He had always struck me as being a practical man who would scoff at fancy.
“What on earth do you think could happen to me?”
“I don’t know. I merely think that you are there where extraordinary things happen. That’s why…I want you to be watchful.”
“What am I to watch for?”
“I don’t know. That’s just it. I have this vague uneasiness, though. If it were anyone else…it wouldn’t occur to me.
I looked at him questioningly and he returned my gaze steadily.
“I care what happens to you,” he said. “Perhaps that is why I am particularly sensitive.”
“That is very kind of you,” I replied.
He shook his head. “It is something over which I have no control. All this seems too contrived to be natural, and I am uneasy because you are in the midst of it.”
“Would you feel better if I went home?”
He smiled at me ruefully. “I was not at all pleased when you stayed away so long. In fact, I was definitely displeased. I had rather you came back for reasons other than this one.”
“How I agree with you on that!”
“Get in touch with me…at any time if you need anything. Telephone me. Do you have the number?”
I said I did not and he gave it to me and I put it into my handbag. I felt an uplifting of my spirits such as I had not known since I heard of Dorabella’s death. I was so gratified that he was concerned for me.
I told him then that I had promised my sister that I would look after Tristan if she were unable to be there.
“It was very strange,” I said, “almost as though she knew she was going to die. She made me swear because she did not want anyone else to look after him. So I am here because they would not allow us to take Tristan back with us.”
“That is something I should be grateful for. If they had allowed you to take him, you would probably never have come here again.”
“That might well have been. At least, the visits would be rare.”
He stretched across the table and took my hand.
“I should have had to come to see you,” he said. “You know I would do that, don’t you?”
“Well, no. It hadn’t occurred to me that you would.”
“Well, it does now, I hope.”
“Since you tell me.”
“Listen,” he went on. “I have been thinking a great deal about this. If at any time you need someone to confide in…to help…”
I tapped my handbag and said: “I have your number. I can get in touch with you at any time…and I will.”
I met Seth in the stables. When he saw me his face changed and he looked almost furtive.
“I did tell ’ee, Miss, ’twere so.”
I knew what he meant. He had warned me of the ghost of the sea and I had shown my disbelief. He was now telling me how wrong I was to be skeptical.
“Poor lady, her be gone…her be gone like t’other. Reckon her was beckoned in, this one…not like t’other.”
His words were thick and slurred and it was not easy to understand what he was saying. I often wondered whether he knew himself; but I supposed there was some reasoning in that muddled head of his.
He leaned his big ungainly body against the walls of the stables.
“ ’Ee be wanting Starlight, Miss?” he asked.
I had changed my mind suddenly.
“No, thanks,” I said. “I think I
’ll take a walk.”
He nodded and mumbled: “I did tell ’ee, didn’t I, Miss? Didn’t believe me, did ’ee? Poor lady…who’d a thought. She was a laughing lady, she were…just like t’other. They wouldn’t listen. They laughed…but it got ’un in the end.”
“Did you see my sister go down to bathe?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Not that ’un,” he said.
“Then did you see the first Mrs. Tregarland go down to bathe, Seth?”
A cunning look came into his eyes. “No, no. I didn’t see nothing. Ask her…I didn’t see.”
“Ask whom, Seth?”
He turned away, shaking his head, and I saw a certain fear in his eyes.
“I didn’t see nothing,” he went on. “I didn’t. Her just went into the sea like. Nothing to do with I.”
Poor Seth. He really did not know what he was talking about. He was obsessed by the legend. His eyes were worried, his loose mouth slightly, open. He was puzzled, as though trying to understand something, and my question had clearly disturbed him.
He disappeared into one of the stalls and I heard him talking to one of the horses there.
“All right, my beauty. ’Tis old Seth. Don’t ’ee worry…only old Seth.”
I came out of the stables. I had an hour or so before I need go back. Nanny Crabtree was busy in the nursery and liked to be free at this time. If, as she said, she could get the lord and master off to sleep, she would have the time to do what had to be done.
I came out into the fresh air. It was invigorating with a light breeze blowing in from the sea with its salty tang and smell of seaweed.
I took the cliff road to Poldown and no sooner had I reached the little town than I wished I had gone another way.
There were too many people about and, because of my involvement with the Tregarland tragedy, I was an object of interest.
I passed the wool shop. Miss Polgenny was standing at the door.
“Good day to ’ee, Miss Denver. How be you then? ’Tis a nice day.”
Her little eyes were alert with curiosity. I could see the thoughts in her mind. I was the sister of “her that went for a swim and was drowned.” “ ’Twas all part of the curse.”
Philippa Carr - [Daughters of England ] Page 25
