“It is what is called the eleventh hour now, I believe. But cheer up. It may not happen. Don’t you find that in life something we fear never comes to pass and all our anxiety has been for nothing? When you went away, I thought I would never see you again, and look, here you are, and we have our meetings.”
He looked at me earnestly. “That was an unnecessary fear. At least, I hope so.”
“I like to think that these meetings will continue,” I said.
“You mean that…sincerely?”
“But of course. Sometimes I feel they are an escape to sanity.”
“I’m glad,” he said.
I believed that he understood what was in my mind. He knew that I should never accept the fact that I had lost Dorabella until I had proof that she was dead.
Christmas came and went. I was pleased to see my parents again. I had a letter from Richard. He had ceased to suggest that I return. I think any prospect of a serious relationship between us was fading away. He was disappointed in me and I think I was in him. It had, in a way, been a choice between him and Tristan. I had given my word to Dorabella and I supposed that, even in death, she was closer to me than anyone else.
There were times when I was faintly regretful that I had lost Richard, but others when I felt relieved. If his affection had failed on that issue, it could not have been very firmly implanted. I was beginning to see that we should not have been well suited to each other.
Poor Dermot’s condition had not improved and the doctor had hinted that it could be permanent, although naturally Dermot had not been told this. He had changed. The carefree young man had become moody. I could understand that. He was not a man with inner resources. He had enjoyed an active life. He liked to travel, to be with people. I was sorry for him. He was often melancholy during those dark days of winter.
The climate in Cornwall is a little milder than elsewhere in England. Snow was rare but the rainfall was heavy, and sometimes the winds would blow at gale force from the southwest. There were sunny days now and then, and Jack would wheel Dermot out in his chair and take him to the gardens, help him from the chair, and he would sit for a while on one of the seats looking down on the beach. I always thought that was not a good spot to be, where he could see the rocks on which Dorabella’s bathrobe had been found.
His father would sometimes sit with him. That showed a change in the old man. I was glad and liked him better because I realized that he really cared for his son.
March had come and the first signs of spring were in the fields and hedgerows. The news suddenly grew more serious. The respite since those days when Neville Chamberlain had returned from Munich brandishing his little piece of paper and declaring there was to be peace in our time was over.
Hitler disregarded his promise and marched into Czechoslovakia.
This was alarming. It confirmed that which many people had thought possible and what must have been in the mind of the Prime Minister when he had returned from Munich and had immediately set about rearmament.
Now even those who had been opposing preparation for war realized the necessity of doing so.
Where would the German dictator turn next? The policy of appeasement was over. There could be no more standing aside. The Prime Minister had a meeting with the French premier and an agreement between the two countries was announced. They would support Poland, Rumania, and Greece if Hitler should attack them.
No longer could people run away from the truth. The storm clouds were gathering fast over Europe. How long would it be before Hitler decided to move into Poland?
He was already stating his claims to that country.
We waited for the news every day and there was a feeling of intense relief when nothing happened.
I rode often with Jowan. We loved to go onto the moors and, if the weather was warm enough, would tether our horses and sit close to an old disused mine while Jowan told me of some of the old legends of Cornwall. He would point out the prehistoric stones, so many of which had a story attached to them.
I arranged to meet him one day and when I went into the stables Seth was there.
He was always interested in me. I think it was because I was Dorabella’s sister and he believed she was one of the victims of the ghostly lady of the house of Jermyn.
Only the day before, I had walked down to the beach. I found a certain fascination there. I liked to stand close to the sea and watch the waves advance and recede, while I thought of Dorabella.
Seth had seen me there. I had looked up and there he was in the gardens looking down at me. I lifted my hand in greeting. He had returned the gesture, shaking his head at me. I think he must have meant it as a warning, telling me I should not be there.
I realized that afternoon in the stables that he was referring to this incident when he said: “Shouldn’t go down there, Miss. ’Tain’t good.”
“Do you mean the beach?” I asked. “I always make sure that the tide is not coming in and in any case I could get back into the garden. It was quite different on that day I was caught.”
He shook his head. “ ’Tain’t right. One day ’er’ll be after you. You was the one as brought him here.”
Knowing the way his mind worked, I realized that he was talking about Jowan and my breaking the feud between the houses of Tregarland and Jermyn.
“I’m all right, Seth,” I said.
He shook his head and I thought for a moment that he was going to burst into tears.
“ ’Tweren’t I,” he said. “I had naught to do with it. Not really like…”
I had lost the train of his thought, but he looked so worried that I wanted to pursue it.
“Didn’t do what, Seth?” I asked.
“I didn’t ’elp to get ’er in, like. Not really, only…”
Something was worrying him very much. This was a different turn to the conversation.
“Who, Seth?” I asked. “Who was the one you did not help?”
He was silent for a moment. Then he murmured: “Not to say. Not to tell. It’s a secret.”
“Do you mean….my sister…?”
“No. Don’t know naught about her. T’other.”
“The first Mrs. Tregarland?”
He looked at me and half nodded. “Not to say,” he went on. “ ’Er was beckoned, ’er was. ’Er had to go in. It was what ’er wanted.”
“I don’t understand, Seth. Who wanted what?”
“Wasn’t what ’er wanted. ’Er had to, didn’t ’er? But ’tweren’t I, Miss. ’Er ’ad to and ’er went.”
Gordon had come into the stable. I wondered how much of this conversation he had heard.
“Oh, hello, Violetta,” he said. “Are you going for a ride?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a good day for it.”
I wondered whether he would understand what Seth was trying to say.
I began: “Seth was telling me…”
A look of terror came into Seth’s face.
“I didn’t say nothing,” he mumbled. “I didn’t know nothing.”
“About the first Mrs. Tregarland’s accident, I think it was, Seth,” I said.
“No. No, I didn’t say nothing.”
Gordon was watching him intently. Seth lowered his eyes and shuffled away.
Gordon turned to me. He patted Starlight’s flank and helped me to mount.
“Poor Seth,” he said quietly. “He’s worse some days than others. Enjoy your ride.”
As I went out I heard him say to Seth: “I want to have a look at Black Eagle. I thought there might be something wrong.”
I rode on, thinking of Seth’s words. It was a pity he was so incoherent. One could never be sure whether what he said was actual fact or some figment of his addled mind; but I did feel he was trying to say something which was worrying him and for which he must make excuses.
Jowan was waiting for me. As always he looked delighted to see me. We rode onto the moors and, finding a sheltered spot, tethered our horses.
We sat leaning against a stone—one of a little group of six clustered round one of a much larger size. I remarked that they looked like sheep around the shepherd.
I could not forget my conversation with Seth and, as Jowan noticed my preoccupation, I told him about it.
“Poor Seth,” said Jowan. “It is sad that he had that accident. He would have been a bright young boy but for that.”
“It is sobering to think that one small incident can change our lives. I wish I knew what he was trying to say. It was almost as though he were making excuses.”
“For what?”
“Something he had done in connection with the first Mrs. Tregarland.”
“Oh…what did he say exactly?”
“It’s hard to tell what. Something he didn’t do. It was almost as though he were making excuses for some action. He kept saying it was the ghost who called her into the water.”
“He was excusing himself?”
“Well, it was so muddled, almost as though he were being blamed for something he hadn’t done.”
“Did he say he was there?”
“He never says anything as straightforward as that.”
“Did he sound as though he had been there?”
“Well, yes. And he might have gone on but Gordon came into the stables just then and he stopped.”
“Did Gordon hear?”
“Some of it, I suppose.”
“I wonder what he thought of it.”
“Well, no one takes much notice of Seth.”
“Sometimes people like that know more than you think they would. It is just possible that he might have some information, something the rest of us don’t know.”
“You mean about Annette’s death?”
“H’m. It always seemed a bit odd to me…that the champion swimmer should be drowned. It was not as though there was a gale.”
“I thought it might have been cramp.”
“Possibly. But why should Seth say it wasn’t his fault?”
“He’s obsessed by it.”
“Why?”
“Because he believes that ancestress of yours who drowned herself wants other young women to do the same…if they are connected with Tregarland. It’s a sort of revenge on the family.”
“I suppose that’s so. It mightn’t be a bad idea to find out what is in Seth’s mind.”
“I’ll see what I can do. What is happening in the outside world?”
“You mean that part in which we are all extremely interested at the moment?”
“I do indeed.”
“Well, things don’t get better. They are moving toward some climax. The latest news is that, for the first time in British history, there is to be military conscription in peacetime.”
“That sounds as though they are really expecting war.”
“If Hitler moves into Poland, there will be. I don’t think there is any doubt about his intentions, and now the days of appeasement are over, equally there can be no doubt about ours and those of the French.”
“Conscription? Does that mean…?”
“Able-bodied young men will be called up for military service.”
I looked at him in dismay.
“I expect they would say I was doing useful work by running the estate. On the other hand, if it came to conflict, I should have to be there.”
I continued to look at him. He laughed suddenly and, taking my hand, kissed it.
“It is nice to know you care,” he said.
It was a beautiful day. May had come and there was warmth in the air. When I came out of the house I saw Dermot sitting on a seat in the garden. I went over and sat beside him.
“It’s a lovely day,” I said.
He agreed. He was looking down on the beach with that infinitely sad expression, thinking, I knew, of Dorabella.
“I wonder what’s going to happen,” I said, trying to turn his thoughts to other things. “Do you think there’s going to be war?”
“I suppose so.”
“There is such uncertainty everywhere.”
He nodded and we fell into silence. I could see it was useless to try to lift him out of his melancholy.
He said suddenly: “The time goes on. They will never find her. She’s gone…forever.”
I put my hand over his and he went on: “You and I—we were the ones who loved her most.”
I said: “There are my parents. They loved her dearly, too.”
“It is not quite the same.”
“My mother hides her grief but it is there. I never found that miniature I gave her.”
“She thought a great deal of it. She often told me how she felt about you. She used to laugh about the way in which you helped her out of trouble. She said she was a monster who thought up the wildest adventures and always at the back of her mind was the thought, Violetta will have to get me out of this.”
“Yes, it was like that with us.”
“She said you were her other self. She called it a cord between you. She said you were the better half.”
“Oh, Dermot, I can’t bear to think of her.”
“Nor I.”
After that we were silent. It was no use trying to talk of other things. She was uppermost in our minds and she would keep intruding. She had once said, “Don’t ever think you’ll be rid of me. I shall always be there.”
It was true, of course.
I sat with him until Jack came to take him in.
I watched them. Jack was strong and gentle and helped Dermot into his chair. He lifted his hand to me as Jack wheeled him into the house.
I went down the slope to the beach and stood there watching the waves.
“Dorabella,” I said. “Where are you?”
Next morning, when Jack went into Dermot’s room, he found that he was dead.
The Ghost on the Cliff
THE HOUSEHOLD WAS IN turmoil. The first I knew of it was when Matilda came to my room while I was preparing to go down to breakfast. She was very pale and obviously trembling.
“Something terrible has happened,” she said; and she told me how Jack had gone into Dermot’s room to wake him with his early morning cup of tea.
“He said he knocked on the door and when there was no answer he went in. He said good morning and, as there was no response, he went to the bed and saw at once what had happened. The bottle of pills was near the bed and it was empty. Jack knew at once what he had done. There was a glass which had contained whisky. Poor Jack, he is in a terrible state. We all are.”
“Oh, poor Dermot,” I said. “He was so unhappy.”
“He never got over Dorabella’s death. I can’t believe this has happened. Gordon is taking charge of everything. He has sent for the doctor. Oh, Violetta, this is terrible. What else is going to happen in this house?”
That was a bewildering day: the comings and goings, the whispered conversations, the terrible knowledge that another tragedy had struck us and that there was death in the house.
I kept thinking of our conversation in the garden. I was not surprised in a way. I should have seen it coming. He was in despair. That had been clear. I could understand this. His marriage had been brief and fruitful…and then she had gone, stupidly, foolishly, because of an impetuous whim she had been taken away.
The entire house was in a state of shock. Matilda’s usual calm had deserted her. She was so shaken that the doctor gave her a sedative and advised her to take a rest.
Gordon was calm and essentially practical. The doctor talked to him—obviously relieved to be able to discuss what must be done with someone who was capable of doing it.
It was a nightmare day.
I had a talk with Gordon in the evening.
“There will be an inquest, of course,” he said. “The doctor obviously knows what happened. He is not altogether surprised. He said Dermot was very depressed. Before all this started, he could be high spirited at times and right down at others. He was not the sort who could cope with tragedy. When he heard that it was unlik
ely that he would walk again, the doctor was afraid he might attempt to take his life. He had been about to suggest that the pain-killing pills should only be administered by Jack or someone near at the time he needed them, but that would have had its difficulties. He might have wanted to take them in the night. It was a very sad case but, as the doctor said, not altogether unexpected in the circumstances.”
It was a household in mourning.
Matilda was too shaken to leave her bed that day and it was Gordon who had had to break the news to old Mr. Tregarland.
When he came out of the old man’s bedroom he was clearly disturbed. I was waiting to hear how the father had received the news of his son’s death. He was stricken with grief and horror.
“I thought,” said Gordon, “that we were going to have another death in the house. His face turned purple and he opened his mouth to speak but there was no sound. He just stared at me and he was shaking in every limb. I thought he was going to have a stroke. This has been a terrible blow, coming after everything else. He has taken it very badly. We shall have to be very careful with him. The shock has been too much.”
Mr. Tregarland stayed in his room for several days. Matilda went about as though in a bad dream. I did not go into the town. I could imagine what people were saying. There was a curse on Tregarland’s. It went back a hundred years to when the Tregarlands and the Jermyns were such enemies.
There was no question of the verdict that Dermot had committed suicide while the balance of his mind had been disturbed.
Gloom descended on the house. And not only there. The possibility of war was the constant topic. It was certain that the Germans were preparing to take some action.
Jowan and I met as usual, but I felt uneasy about that. The servants whispered together. Look at what is happening. It was one blow after another for the Tregarlands.
Jowan said: “It is certainly mysterious. I wish you weren’t there, and on the other hand I wouldn’t want you to go away.”
“These disasters are a string of coincidences,” I said. “Life is so strange. Dermot’s death is explainable. I know how miserable he was. He had lost both of his wives and it is certainly odd that they should both die by drowning. As for Dermot himself, he was so miserable, his horse was out of control, and there was a suggestion that he was not quite sober. There is an explanation for that.”
Philippa Carr - [Daughters of England ] Page 30
