by Sara Seale
“It was a kind of charm I was making—for the future.” He did not laugh at her, but came and stood behind her, drawing her slight body against him.
“Were you making a wish for the future—three times three?” he said.
“No, a charm,” she answered. “It’s different.”
He turned her round in his arms and his face was gentle.
“My cautious Tina,” he said. “Don’t you ever make wishes in case they don’t come true?”
“No,” she said, “it’s a waste of time.”
He drew her head against his breast and she rested against him passively, no longer startled by his touch. He could still disconcert her by an unexpected attack for which she was not prepared, but here in the little clearing by the temple and the magnolia tree he was always different, gentle, undemanding, and often tender. It was as if, in Jessie’s private haven, he recognized Tina’s right to sanctuary and sometimes sought release himself.
“Do you remember I once threatened to wall you up in the temple?” he said, and she smiled.
“Yes, you did. Now you’ll just wall me up at Tremawvan instead.”
“Is that how you think of our marriage?”
She looked up quickly, disturbed by the graver note in his voice.
“No, of course not. I was joking as I thought you were, but I do remember Brownie once telling me that what the Pentreaths have they hold, if it means building a hedge to keep it.”
“That’s true,” he replied unsmilingly. “A thing to remember, perhaps, Tina. It will be too late to wake up one morning in a month’s time and decide you’ve made a mistake. The hedge will be built then and there’s no escape.”
She shivered, aware suddenly of the chill March air.
“Is that a warning?” she asked, puzzled that he should be offering her a way out, if indeed he was.
“If you need a warning it’s one, but I don’t think you do. I’ve captured you twice already.” He spoke with the dark, arrogant look of his pirate ancestors.
“And the third time?” she said.
“If there was a third time,” he answered a little grimly, “you would remember it with rather more discomfort than the other two. The Pentreaths keep their wives whether they are happily or unhappily married. You’re getting cold. Better come back to the house.”
Belle did not speak of her own arrangements; indeed, watching her indolent passage about the house, Tina doubted if she had troubled to make any.
“Belle, the time’s getting on,” she said as the first week of March drew to a blustery dose. “Oughtn’t you to be making plans?”
“I’ve made my plans,” Belle replied lazily. “Don’t be in such a hurry to get rid of me, darling. It’s not at all filial.”
“It was only thinking of you,” Tina said gravely. “What are you going to do?”
Belle shrugged and lit one of her Turkish cigarettes. “That depends. Has Craig mentioned anything about a settlement?”
“Belle, I told you I can’t ask him for any more. There really isn’t any reason why he should keep you for the rest of your life.”
Belle’s smile was mocking with a hint of malice.
“I was speaking of a marriage settlement, my dear, not a pension. Craig’s a rich man. You should be provided for independently. I shall speak to him about it.”
“Oh, please—” Tina began, then walked away. So long ago she had learned the lesson never to argue with Belle. Craig was well able to look after his own interests.
She was unprepared, however, when the next day, he asked her abruptly to rid herself of the idea that when he married her he would make her independent of him.
“No doubt you think a handsome marriage settlement is customary and only generous,” he said, “but the Pentreath women have never lacked for money when they liked to ask for it. I don’t believe in that kind of independence.”
“It wasn’t I who thought it,” said Tina, flushing. “It was Belle, as you might have known. She didn’t say so, but I think her idea was to draw on me from time to time. I wouldn’t have your horrible settlement if you offered it to me on a golden plate. I’m used to being dependent.”
He smiled.
“You look exactly like an angry little girl,” he said, then his face was grave again. “I’m glad you’re beginning to see through Belle at last. I didn’t like to think you were being used as an excuse to screw money out of me.” At the look on her face, he stopped, and observed her thoughtfully before he spoke again.
“I’ve been clumsy over the whole thing, haven’t I, Tina?” he said a little wearily. “I should remember this crushing sense of obligation you have. My old-fashioned principles will have to change, I think. You’ve been dependent on me for so long that once we are married I shall have to rectify it. I can’t have you coming to me for every penny with that stricken look of guilt on your face.”
“What do you mean?”
“Only that of course you shall have your settlement, or allowance or something to make you feel less beholden, on a golden plate or not, as you please, only don’t tell Belle.” She ran to him spontaneously and kissed him quite naturally on the cheek.
“Thank you, Craig,” she said softly, touched by his consideration for her raw feelings. “I shan’t want it, but thank you very much for understanding.”
It should not have surprised her, she thought later. Long ago he had understood why she had minded leaving school, he had understood too about it not being safe to become fond of places until you were sure. He had called her cautious in her emotions, but did he not know that people were not the same as places. You became fond in spite of warnings, because affections must be laid somewhere. Would he understand that when he knew, and offer her anything of himself in return? She sighed, puzzled afresh by his changes of mood. The moments of tenderness seemed so few and as time went on he became more engrossed with matters at the mine and cannery which necessitated his attention in view of his approaching absence, and when he came home there seemed a dozen small distractions to occupy his evenings.
He consulted Tina over very little, but he took her upstairs one afternoon to show her what bedroom he thought should be theirs, and asked her if she would like to have the room done up.
She looked at the unfamiliar furniture, the big presses, the draped dressing-table and the enormous tester bed with its sombre hangings, and felt depressed. But the walls were papered in the same sprigged design as her own room, and she said gently:
“No, Craig, it’s very nice as it is.”
Had Jessie Pentreath slept there, she wondered as she followed him downstairs, poor unloved Jessie dreaming of her Greek temple and her magnolia tree? But it was Brownie she asked in the end and felt unaccountably relieved when she replied:
“Dear me, no. Zion and Jessie had the room Craig’s got now. Both the boys were born there. The room that will be yours has never been a bride’s room. You’ll be the first.”
She was fitting Tina’s half-finished wedding dress in the work-room, pinning and tacking with a neatness it was difficult to imagine her swollen fingers could achieve.
“Is Craig very like his father?” Tina asked, turning slowly in the centre of the room to give Brownie what help she needed.
“To look at, you mean? Well, you’ve seen the albums. All the Pentreaths have a strong family likeness.”
“No, I didn’t really mean that. Mr. Pentreath was a hard man, so everyone says. He hadn’t—much affection for anyone.”
Brownie sat back on her heels on the floor and regarded Tina shrewdly.
“Haven’t you learnt yet what manner of man you’re marrying?” she asked.
Tina shook her head and the long, fine hair fell over her eyes.
“No, I don’t think I have,” she said.
“Well, as to who’s to blame there I wouldn’t like to say,” Brownie returned. “No Pentreath is easy for a young girl to come to know, perhaps, and Craig’s never worn his heart on his sleeve, but maybe you’
re at fault, too, Tina. It’s right and proper that a courting couple shouldn’t embarrass other folk in public, but I don’t think I’ve ever known you fling your arms round Craig’s neck and give him a good hug like any normal engaged girl. Even at Christmas you thanked him for his present in front of us all as if he was a stranger who had given you a bunch of flowers.”
Tina put her hands to her hot cheeks.
“Belle was watching,” she said unhappily. Brownie began tacking again.
“Aye, Belle’s usually watching,” she said dryly, “and hoping what she sees means trouble for Craig. She’d spite him with her last breath, wanting him herself and losing him to her own stepchild.”
“She never really wanted him, only his money,” said Tina dispassionately. Belle’s desires were no longer real to her, for she demanded nothing of life save the easiest way to comfort.
“Well, the sooner she gets out of this house the better I’ll be pleased,” Brownie said. “She’s a mischief-maker and full up with spite and Craig should have known better than to keep her here.” She glanced up for a moment and saw the tears trickling through Tina’s fingers.
“Now, childie, ‘tes no time to cry,” she said, the Cornish intonation becoming suddenly broader. “You have a good man who’ll comfort you through good and ill, and you’re going to look a proper little picture when I’ve got this dratted dress finished.”
“Oh, Brownie, will he—comfort me through good and ill, I mean?” asked Tina forlornly.
“Well, what do you take him for?” demanded Brownie indignantly, then she smiled. “Courting time is trying for all young girls, so I’m told. ‘Tes natural for you to fret, Tina. I’ve seen it over and over.”
Tina smiled through her tears, looking down at the bent little woman with real affection. Sitting on her heels with her brown face puckered into concern, Brownie looked just like a gnome. Tina stooped and kissed her. What could Brownie know of her doubts and fears, she who had lived with Jessie Pentreath’s unhappy marriage for so long that she had become used to it?
“I’m silly,” she said, drying her eyes. “Belle would tell you that all girls are and I expect it’s true. Can I get out of the frock now, Brownie? I’m sure you’ve done enough kneeling for one day.”
II
She remembered Brownie’s remarks about her reception of Craig’s Christmas present the evening he had the jewellery out of the safe to select what he wished to have re-set for Tina. But under Belle’s jealous gaze she found it impossible to be delighted or even spontaneous when Craig chose something and asked her if she liked it, and she was aware that he glanced at her sometimes with a hint of disappointment.
Belle had insisted on coming, and she stood at the desk in his study turning over the heap of jewellery, trying on necklaces, bracelets, rings, and viewing herself in the mirror of her compact.
“These were Keverne’s, weren’t they?” she said, picking up a handsome dog-collar of finely matched rubies. “There used to be earrings and a bracelet to match.”
“They’re in those cases,” Craig said dispassionately. “Tina, do you care for the sapphire brooch and pendant? The rubies are too heavy for you.”
“These would have been mine if I’d married Keverne,” Belle said. She had put the rubies on and Tina had to admit that they became her very well.
“You would have had the sapphires too, and the diamond sunburst,” he said, and Tina wondered for a moment if he was taking a cruel delight in reminding her of what she had lost.
“If,” said Belle with deliberation, “you don’t mean to do anything for me when I leave, Craig, it wouldn’t hurt you to let me have Keverne’s share of the jewels. You have just said yourself the rubies aren’t suitable for Tina.”
“You are not entitled to Keverne’s share any more than you are entitled to a consideration of money from me,” he said suavely. “Please take the rubies off, Belle. I want to put them away.”
She undid the clasp of the collar and reluctantly put it into his hand.
“They must be worth a mint,” she said. “Didn’t Keverne make a will before he died?”
“You know quite well everything went to my father, and after he died it came to me.”
“And you keep stuff like that locked up in your safe because you’re too vindictive to let someone else enjoy it,” she said bitterly. “Tina, you who are going to have so much, don’t you think I’m entitled to a few crumbs?”
Tina, embarrassed by the whole affair, was looking at Jessie’s shells and before she could speak Craig had said brusquely:
“Leave Tina out of this discussion, please. I refuse to have her dragged into sordid recriminations of this kind. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind going back to Brownie now. I have a few things I want to discuss with Tina.”
“Oh, very well,” said Belle ungraciously, and with a last lingering look at the jewels, she slowly left the room.
Tina stood watching Craig put the pile of cases back in the safe. She hated Belle’s flamboyance and the tenacious grip on her rights in the absence of all obligation but her own debt to Pentreath hospitality, but she could not bear to feel that she, as Belle had said, would have so much, and a great deal she did not want.
“Couldn’t she have the rubies?” she asked tentatively. “They looked very handsome on her, and I—I really don’t want them.”
“I daresay,” he replied and shut the safe. “But that’s no reason why Belle should have them or anything else she fancies just because she’s predatory.”
He crossed the room and taking Tina’s chin between his finger and thumb, turned her face to the light.
“I hope you were pleased with your selection,” he said. “Don’t you care for jewellery?”
“I’ve never had any,” she said simply. “The stones are beautiful, Craig, and I’m very grateful. I found it difficult to say very much when Belle was obviously so envious.”
“You think I’m very hard where she’s concerned, don’t you?”
“No, no I don’t. I think you’re perfectly right in the circumstances. No one has the right to—to batten on the kindness of others.”
She had raised the lid of the little cabinet and was touching the shells gently with loving fingers.
“I believe you find the shells more fascinating than the jewels,” he said with gentleness.
“Yes, I think I do.” She shut the cabinet and turned back to his desk. “I’m afraid you’ll find you have a very unappreciative wife, Craig.”
“On the contrary,” he replied gravely, “I’ve always thought you appreciated the things that really matter.”
She colored a little, aware of an understanding of simplicity in him which she had not before suspected. She touched the rose quartz conch shell which always stood on his desk.
“I’m glad you keep it where you can see it,” she said.
“Are you, Tina?” he returned and smiled a little. “It’s one of my most treasured possessions.”
“Is it?” She looked up with a quick, startled look of surprise and she would have gone to him then with the shy desire to be close to him, to feel his hands respond as they touched her own, but he moved away and said with his usual abruptness:
“Sit down. There are a few small details of business I want to explain to you and then we’ll go back to the others.”
Belle would not drop the subject of the rubies for the next few days. She would return to it again and again, accusing Tina of selfish ingratitude in wanting to keep everything for herself, when a word from her might have changed Craig’s attitude, until Tina said with weary finality:
“It’s no good, Belle. I did ask him to let you have the rubies after you’d gone that night, but he wouldn’t listen. And you aren’t really entitled to Keverne’s share, you know. You weren’t even engaged to him.”
“Spite, that’s all it is, because I once turned him down,” Belle said angrily.
“No,” Tina replied, “Craig’s not vindictive, whatever the others may have b
een. He says the jewels have always belonged to the Tremawvan lot and must remain in the family.”
“Don’t I count as family?” snapped Belle.
“Not, I suppose, in the same way. Belle, you ought to remember that you never made any secret of your dislike of the family. Craig isn’t the sort of man to forget old sores and what he’s spent on us both since we’ve been here lets him out from any imagined obligation.”
“How righteous you sound, my dear! Well, don’t forget when you’re so busy defending Craig’s noble actions the time may come when you feel the pinch yourself. You’ll have money and comfort for the rest of your life but I’m afraid the proverbial love of a good man will be painfully absent. When you’ve had as much of it as Jessie had with Zion you can tell me how it feels to be just one of the Pentreath women.”
The old sore was exposed again, but under her stepmother’s avid eyes Tina refused to flinch.
“You are responsible for me, Belle,” she said quietly. “If you were so sure I would be unhappy, why did you agree to this marriage? You could have stopped it. I’m under age.”
“Yes, so I could,” Belle’s expression was speculative and a little chagrined as she wondered how this line would have worked with Craig. A little polite blackmail and she might have got her settlement in return for Tina. She yawned.
“Oh, well, it’s too late now. I don’t think I shall stop for your wedding, Tina. It sounds as if it’s going to be very dreary and tiresome with the miners and factory workers practically the only guests. I think I’ll leave next week. Craig will be delighted.”
“But where will you go?” asked Tina bewildered. It had never seemed possible that Belle would leave of her own accord.
“To Polrame, darling. That will be a nasty knock to Cousin Craig’s pride, won’t it?” said Belle unexpectedly.
“Polrame!” repeated Tina incredulously. “But you can’t. You’d be barred from this house and besides—you wouldn’t lead that shiftless, rough sort of existence.”
“Being barred from this house doesn’t worry me at all. Craig wouldn’t have me here anyway once he’s married. He’s made that plain enough. The Polrame Pentreaths may be a peg lower in social niceties but they all spring from the same stock. At least if Tremawvan isn’t open to me, Polrame is. They need a woman up there—Adwen’s father has often said so.”
