Philippa Carr - [Daughters of England ]

by Gossamer Cord

  “I know,” he said, “that you will both do all you can to help.”

  He left us then.

  Nanny said: “Poor man. I liked him better tonight. He’s very fond of his mother, I will say that for him. A man who’s fond of his mother can’t be all that bad. Now, I think I’ll make us a nice cup of tea and then we’ll see if we can get a bit of sleep. I was right when I said there’d be a lot to do tomorrow…or today, rather.”

  I sat there thoughtfully. There was no hurry. I knew neither of us would sleep.

  We took one last look at Tristan. The teddy bear had slipped from his grasp, but he was smiling in his sleep.

  The next two days were indeed chaotic. Two doctors came to see Matilda.

  She had awakened on that first morning in a bemused state. Gordon was with her at the time. He had sat by her bedside all through the rest of the night, to be sure to be there when she awoke.

  She only half realized what had happened on the previous night. She wept bitterly and was in a state of complete mental disorder.

  The family doctor came first. He said she needed immediate attention. Then he called another doctor, as was, I believed, usual in such cases; and at the end of the second day, she was taken away. They had to sedate her because she had shown a tendency to violence. Gordon was very sad, indeed, and I was touched because he turned to me for comfort.

  He confided in me a good deal and told me that he had been very concerned for her for a long time. He had tried to make her understand that he accepted his position and, because he realized that it was unlikely that he would ever inherit the estate, he had come to terms with that fact.

  He loved it and indeed he had complete control of it; and it would be years before Tristan could take it over. He would work with the boy, teach him what had to be taught. He had been content with that.

  But it had not been good enough for his mother. She had set her heart on his being recognized as a Tregarland and master of the family home.

  “Obsession,” he said. “It can ruin a life…as it has hers.”

  “You will see her often,” I said.

  “Yes. She will be at Bodmin. I shall go at least once a week. It may be that they will be able to help her. They have all sorts of wonderful treatment these days.”

  “I do hope so, Gordon.”

  “I shall always be grateful to you,” he replied. “If you had not been there she would have killed the child. I feel it would be something she would never have got over.”

  I was thinking then of Annette, for I could not believe that she had deliberately chosen to go into the sea that morning.

  I wondered whether there was at least one murder on Matilda’s mind, and whether that had helped her to go completely mad.

  James Tregarland was very upset by what had happened. He stayed in his room, and after they had taken Matilda away he sent one of the servants to ask if I would come to his room as he would like to talk to me.

  I went to him at once and there I found him like a different person. He seemed old and shrunken.

  “Oh, Violetta,” he said. “You have come into a strange household. What are you thinking of us, eh? There has been nothing but trouble. It is strange, is it not? For years we went on peacefully—uneventfully—and then everything erupted like a volcano that has been inactive for years and once it starts cannot stop.”

  “A great deal has certainly happened,” I said. “I think one thing has grown out of another.”

  He nodded. “My poor Matty. I was fond of her, you know. She was always an interesting girl. That calm exterior hiding her explosive passions. I treated her badly. I have discovered I have a conscience. Not a pleasant discovery at my time of life, when it is too late to do anything about it. She wanted me to marry her. Why didn’t I? It would have given her peace of mind. Those parents of hers—it was the way they had brought her up. Poor Matty. Conventionality was their way of life, and hell fire was awaiting those who strayed. It was implanted in her and nothing could change that. I teased her, though I’m ashamed to say I enjoyed that. Well, I made a will…everything for my legitimate heirs, and if they were unable to inherit, it went to my natural son, Gordon Lewyth. That was when it started…once she had got that out of me. I enjoyed watching it, you see. I knew Matty pretty well. So prim she had been at first, and then not so prim. I didn’t think it would last very long when it started…I thought I’d give her something and say goodbye. But it did not work that way. It went on. There was the boy, you see. I liked him and he was damned useful on the estate when he grew up. He was a worker, different from some of the Tregarlands who’d gone before. I’m to blame for a lot of this, Violetta.”

  “You had no idea how far she would go.”

  “I should have had. And she tried to murder my grandson! Thank God you were sleeping in the room.”

  “Yes. I found out that Gordon was your son. I misjudged him. I thought he might attempt to murder Tristan. There was talk about babies who died mysteriously and it had been mentioned in my hearing. Then Nanny Crabtree and I worked out what we would do.”

  “I’m grateful to you both. He’s a bright little fellow, our Tristan. To think he might have been snuffed out like a candle. I’m grateful to you.”

  “And to Nanny Crabtree.”

  “Yes, indeed. She’s an old stalwart, she is. A real dragon, a battleaxe. I like that. I can’t see anyone getting the better of her.”

  His chin started to wag and for a few seconds he looked like his old self.

  “She loves those she calls her children dearly,” I said. “I am so pleased my mother arranged for her to come and look after Tristan.”

  “Oh, yes, we have to be thankful for that. And most of all we are thankful to you, my dear. I like to feel my grandson is in your hands. And what will happen to my poor Matty?”

  “Gordon thinks they may be able to help her.”

  “Just now she won’t be aware of where she is and what she has done. It will be better for her to remain in ignorance of that.”

  “And what she may already have done.”

  “You are thinking of Dermot’s first wife…”

  “Yes, Annette.”

  “That was a strange affair. I was glad when Dermot brought your sister here. And then…”

  “Do you have any idea what happened?”

  He shook his head. “I wondered. The first wife was drowned when she was carrying an unborn child. The thought came to me later as to whether Matty had a hand in it. Though naturally it didn’t occur to me at the time.”

  “Do you think she could have killed Annette?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “And Dermot?”

  “It would have been easy for her to slip his pills to him, perhaps. I wonder…would she have gone as far as that?”

  “He stood in Gordon’s way, just as Tristan did. And it would have been so easy with him…as it would have been with Tristan. But…Annette…and my sister…”

  “My dear, you have suffered with us all. Your stay here has been marked by tragedy. Too many tragedies.”

  “Too many to be natural,” I repeated. “And now that we see there was a motive…”

  He nodded slowly. “I want you to know how grateful I am to you. This household needs you particularly now. Will you promise me you will not leave us?”

  “I cannot say what the future will bring. For a time I shall be here. Tristan means a lot to me.”

  “I will be satisfied with that. My poor Matty! How I wish this had not happened to her. She has gone, hasn’t she? There will be no coming back. So calmly efficient outwardly, and a raging furnace of resentments within. Does it not show how complex human beings are? It has always been a sort of hobby with me…to observe them.”

  “They are, indeed, complex, and I will leave you now, if you will excuse me. I have promised Nanny Crabtree that I will be in the nursery this morning.”

  He nodded. “We need you here,” he said. “I…Gordon…Tristan. Yes, we do. I would no
t feel happy about the child if you left us.”

  I said: “I shall stay for a while.”

  That satisfied him. He nodded again and closed his eyes. He looked very tired and infinitely sad.

  Seth had changed. It was strange to see a big strong man looking like a helpless child. Oddly enough, he seemed to turn to me. I knew that he had regarded Matilda with a kind of awe, coupled with a great admiration and trust. I thought sometimes that he had looked at her as though she were some sort of deity.

  She had been kind to him. How strange that she, who had contemplated killing one child, could be so considerate to a poor creature like Seth.

  And now she had gone, Seth seemed lost and bewildered. Poor, uncertain Seth, whose life had been blighted when he was ten years old, and he had never really developed after that.

  I often found him close to me, and suddenly it dawned on me that I was a substitute for Matilda. He would hurry to me if I were carrying something. He would take it from me, and clearly showed what gratification it gave him to help me.

  That was how I came to talk to him and to learn what I had always wanted to know.

  I would chat about horses and the work he did in the garden. One day I saw him working there and I went down to the seat which was close by and said: “Hello, Seth. How are you this morning?”

  His face creased with pleasure, as it always did when I spoke to him.

  “I be well, Miss Violetta.” He slurred my name. He had always had difficulty with it.

  “The sea is a little rough today,” I went on. “Is that how it was the morning the first Mrs. Tregarland went in to bathe?”

  He had lost that look of anxiety he had always had before when I mentioned that occasion.

  “He said: “Oh, ’tweren’t morning…’twere night…weren’t it?”

  I was startled. This was a new angle on the case.

  “Night?” I said.

  “Sea be different by night,” he said, scratching his head. “Don’t know what it be, but it be different.”

  “Where were you then, Seth?”

  He looked puzzled and I saw the shut-in look come into his face.

  “You could tell me, Seth,” I said.

  He looked at me steadily and I saw the look I had often in the past seen him bestow on Matilda. Now it was given to me. He looked relieved.

  “ ’Twere night,” he said. “ ’Er were there with ’un.”

  “Mrs. Lewyth was there…with the first Mrs. Tregarland?”

  He nodded and, turning toward the house, pointed to the glass door which opened onto the terrace from which four steps led down to the garden.

  “In the drawing room they were.”

  “They were doing something?” I prompted.

  “Just the two of them…talking. It was about the baby that was to be.”

  “Why did you think that?”

  “I dunno. Just did. They was always talking about the baby.”

  “And what happened?”

  “She come out. ’Er was rolling…unsteady like. I watched ’un.” He started to giggle. “ ’Er be drunk, I thought. Mrs. be drunk.”

  “What happened to her then?”

  “Mrs. Lewyth…she took her arm. They was coming to the garden.”

  “Did they see you?”

  “Not then …I watched ’un. Mrs. Lewyth was bringing her down. ’Tweren’t easy on the slope. Her was drunk like. They got to the beach. Then ’er fell over.”

  “Who?”

  “T’other.”

  “The first Mrs. Tregarland?”

  “That’s ’er. I watched. Proper drunk, ’er were.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “Mrs. Lewyth took off her clothes and put on her bathing things. Then she pulled her down to the sea. ’Er couldn’t manage. Awful heavy, she were. So I went and helped her.”

  “Seth! And what did Mrs. Lewyth say?”

  “ ’Er didn’t seem to like it much. She was a bit cross with me…at first. She was nice after. She told me the ghost of the long-dead lady wanted to have a talk with the first Mrs. Tregarland and she had to get her out to sea…’cos she’d been told to. We had to get her down. She said, ‘You can see her beckoning.’ ”

  “Did you?”

  “Mrs. Lewyth said I did, so must be. I helped drag her in…and I pushed her out to sea. ‘She just wants to have a word with her,’ Mrs. Lewyth said. ‘Just friendly like.’ She took her clothes away and later on came down with her bathrobe, so’s it would be there for her when she come back. She didn’t. Reckon the ghost wanted her to stay.”

  “Seth,” I said. “You knew this all the time and you didn’t tell anyone.”

  “Her said not to, didn’t ’er? ’Er said she reckoned they got on so well—one didn’t want to lose t’other. Her would stop haunting because ’er was so pleased to have the first Mrs. Tregarland with her.”

  I sat there, staring out to sea. And I thought, so now I know. But what of Dorabella?

  I said: “Seth, the second Mrs. Tregarland. Do you know what happened to her?”

  “I don’t know nothing about her. I never seed that ’un.”

  “She did go down to the sea,” I said.

  “May ’ave. I didn’t see ’er.”

  “Are you sure, Seth?”

  “Certain sure. It were only t’other.”

  “Thank you, Seth,” I said. “You have been a great help.”

  A slow smile of satisfaction spread over his face. I could see that he now looked on me as his friend and protector.

  So now I knew that Matilda was indeed a murderess and had been one when I first met her. Hers was indeed a devious mind. It was hard to believe that she had preserved that quiet, almost benevolent exterior with such guilt on her conscience.

  I could piece together what had happened. She had obviously drugged Annette, got her to the beach, and thrown her into the sea.

  I was, indeed, relieved that she was now put away where she could do no more harm.

  It was some little time since I had seen Jowan. He would, of course, have heard of the drama at Tregarland’s, for the matter would be discussed throughout the neighborhood. He would be anxious, I knew.

  He came to the house this time, and we sat in the garden while I told him the story.

  He was deeply shocked.

  “We have to be grateful to you, Jowan,” I said. “Your discovery about the relationship between James Tregarland and Gordon made it all fall into shape.”

  “It was you and Nanny Crabtree who saved the child.”

  “Yes, but you put us on the alert, and I remembered then that Matilda and Gordon had spoken of the children’s deaths.”

  I described those moments when Matilda had come into the nursery with the pillow in her hand.

  “Poor Gordon,” I said. “He is a very sad man. She is safely away now. She can do no more harm. Jowan, what should we do about this? I now know that Annette’s death was murder. We are not sure of Dermot’s, but I suppose it is likely. I wonder about Dorabella.”

  “There was no reason to kill Dorabella. Matilda Lewyth was consistent. She did not murder, without reason. Annette was going to have a child who would inherit the estate after his father. So she got rid of both Annette and the child. She might have waited until it was born, but perhaps she hadn’t heard of the cot deaths then. Besides, Annette could have more children. She rid herself of that possibility at one stroke.”

  “Might she not have felt that it was a good idea to be rid of Dorabella? She had succeeded with the first wife, why not with the second?”

  “No. She would not murder for such a flimsy reason. There was already a child. And it wasn’t easy. She had been seen by Seth. He must have been an anxiety to her. I suppose she might have turned on him.”

  “That wouldn’t be easy. She had had trouble with Annette. Seth is big and very strong. No. She trusted him not to betray her and he did not until she was gone and I was there, as he saw it, in her place. He regards me as a su
bstitute for her. He talked to me as he would not to anyone else. But what should be done about this?”

  “Probably nothing. What would happen if the police were informed? Would Seth’s testimony be trusted? What good would it do? It might mean trouble for him. Suppose there was a trial? Mrs. Lewyth, not being of sound mind, could not take part in it. And the result? Guilty of murder while the balance of her mind was disturbed. She would spend the rest of her life in a mental home which she will probably do in any case. There is nothing that can be done. It would just be the satisfaction of making known the facts.”

  “There is Mrs. Pardell. She has accused Dermot of murdering both Annette and Dorabella.”

  He was silent. “She might want the matter brought to light,” he said after a pause.

  “She’s a strange woman. After what happened last time I called on her, I feel I don’t understand her.”

  “Well, at least we have learned something.”

  “You believe Seth, do you?”

  “Yes. It fits. Matilda Lewyth had committed one murder and was going to commit another because she had not been found out. This obsession had taken possession of her. She had convinced herself that her son must have what she considered was due to him, and she would stop at nothing to bring it about.”

  “So…we do nothing.”

  “At the moment I think it might be best.”

  “Jowan, I am so relieved to have you around.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “I feel the same about having you around. You won’t go away, will you?”

  “I’ve had a talk with James Tregarland. He was very pleasant and…revealing. He has made me promise to stay awhile.”

  “I’m not surprised. You and the stalwart Nanny Crabtree saved his grandson’s life.”

  “They are talking about all this in the town, I suppose.”

  “They are saying that Mrs. Lewyth has gone out of her mind due to all that has been happening at Tregarland lately. Soon, however, they will have something else to talk about.”

  “What?”

  “It is almost certain that there is going to be war.”

  Dorabella

  THE DEPARTURE OF MATILDA had made a great deal of difference to the household. Then Mrs. Yeo, the cook, took charge and everything seemed to run more smoothly after that.