The window—semicircular and cut out of an amazingly thick wall—had a window seat of stone around it. There were three stone steps to a window alcove. I mounted them and looked out. Although the castle was a little isolated standing on its incline, I could see that the Island was well populated. The little houses were picturesque and the orange roofs gave them a foreign look. There appeared to be a street in which were shops and what might be an inn. It was like a miniature town. I made out what must have been farmhouses surrounded by fields which had the neat patchwork effect of cultivated land. There were orchards and even a small forest and more houses. It appeared to be a pleasant, prosperous community. I could catch a glimpse of that other island, Blue Rock, which looked even nearer than the half mile distant that I had been told it was. Just a small channel of sea separated us. Then I gazed at the mainland and wondered what Michael Hydrock was doing now and whether he had given me another thought.
"It's magnificent," I said, turning from the window and surveying the room.
"Mr. Jago said as this was to be prepared for 'ee, Miss. 'Tis one of the best rooms in the whole of the castle."
"It is very kind of him."
She gave a little giggle. "Oh we've all been warned, Miss. We got to take very special care of 'ee."
It was indeed a warm welcome.
"If there's anything you do want, Miss . . ." She walked to the bell rope of red and gold. "You just pull this and I'll be with 'ee in next to no time. We did think everything be here but you can't ever be sure, can 'ee?"
At that moment a boy arrived with my baggage.
"Would 'ee like me to help 'ee unpack, Miss?" asked Janet.
"Thank you," I said. It was not so much that I wanted her to do that as to keep her with me that I might ask her a few questions. "There is not a great deal," I added. "It won't take long."
"I'll bring 'ee hot water first, Miss."
When she had left, I looked round the room at the oak settle, the big cupboard, the fireplace and the mantelpiece on which stood large candlesticks. The ceiling was lofty and ornately carved.
I opened one of my bags and took out a dress. It was one of those which had been made for my honeymoon and was in sapphire blue silk, which was particularly becoming. I remembered Philip's going with me for the last fitting. He had peeped round the door. "Why, Ellen," he had said, "I do believe I am marrying a beauty."
I felt suddenly wretched, and I could not stop myself thinking of the plans we had made for the honeymoon. "Venice," he had said. "Gondoliers. Serenades and the Grand Canal. Very romantic."
While I was standing there holding the dress Janet came in with the hot water.
"It's a beautiful dress, Miss," she said.
I nodded and laid it on the bed.
"Mr. Jago has just come in, Miss. He'll be wanting to see 'ee. I reckon you won't want to keep him waiting. He's just come in to the stables."
I said: "I will wash then."
Janet drew aside a curtain. Behind this was an alcove in which was a basin and ewer. She poured out the hot water for me and I washed while she hung up my dresses in the cupboard.
The blue dress was still lying on the bed.
I picked it up.
"You'll be wearing that one for dinner, Miss, will you?"
Before I could answer, there was a knock on the door and the boy Jim put his head in.
"Mr. Jago is in his parlor. He says Miss Kellaway is to go to him there."
Janet said: "All right, Jim. Get you gone. Come Miss, Mr. Jago don't like to be kept waiting."
I found that my hands were trembling. I was about to see this man of whom in the last few days I had begun to build up a formidable picture in my mind.
And so I went down to the parlor and my first meeting with Jago Kellaway. It was a magnificent room, that parlor with a deep bow window overlooking the sea. There was a big open fireplace with firedogs and a long stool in front covered with a tapestry which blended in with that which hung on the walls, and the ceiling was decorated with checkers and diapers in a pattern which incorporated the arms of the family. The name "parlor" seemed incongruous when applied to such a room. It was gracious and dignified, but all this I noticed much later.
Janet had knocked at the door and when it opened, as if by magic, I advanced into the room. At first I thought there was no one there and then I heard a laugh behind me. The door was shut and he was standing leaning against it, studying me with amusement.
"You!" I cried. "You . . . Jago Kellaway!"
For the man who faced me was the dark man who had spoken to me at the recital and had been in the house in Finlay Square that morning when Rollo had come and found us together.
I felt a tingling sensation run down my spine. It was a mingling of horror and amazement.
"But I don't understand," I stammered.
"I thought you'd be surprised." There was laughter in his voice as he took my arm. I had forgotten how big he was. He drew me into the room and led me to the window. There he put his hands on my shoulders and looked into my face.
"Ellen," he said. "At last!"
"I should like to know ..." I began.
"Of course you would. You are a very curious young lady and I'll agree with you that it must seem a little odd."
"A little odd! I feel as if I'm dreaming. Why did you come to London? What were you doing at the recital? What were you doing in the house in Finlay Square? Why didn't you tell me who you were, and who are you anyway?"
"You ask too many questions which I can't answer all at once. First, I want to welcome you to Kellaway Island and to tell you how very happy I am to have you here at last. You are indeed a Kellaway. You take after your father. He was a very impatient man."
"Will you please explain . . ."
"Certainly I will explain. Come, my dear Ellen. Sit down and I will answer every question."
He led me to a chair with carved arms and a tapestry-covered seat, and almost pushed me into it. Then very deliberately, as though he enjoyed my impatience and was not in the least eager to alleviate it, he drew up a chair for himself. It was like a throne, that chair. Large—it had to be, because he was a large man—it was ornately carved and there was an inlay of stone in the back which looked like lapis.
Now I could look fully at him. He was even more impressive than he had been in London. His hair was thick and dark; I noticed again those heavy-lidded eyes which I felt even then could hide so much; they were now surveying me with obvious pleasure. He wore a midnight-blue velvet smoking jacket and a white cravat. His hands, resting on the arms of his thronelike chair, were well shaped and slightly bronzed and he wore a signet ring on the little finger of his right hand on which I could make out the letter K.
"First," he said, "you ask who I am. I will tell you. I am Jago Kellaway. And what is my connection with you? you ask. Well, my dear Ellen, it is a little complicated. I had better tell you myself or you will no doubt hear garbled versions of the story. It's rather a common one." His lips twitched as though he were amused. "And perhaps a little indelicate for your ears. But no. You come from the sophisticated London world and will know that matters of this nature arise now and then in the most sedate families. Am I right?"
"I can't say until I hear it," I replied sharply, because something about him made me want to do battle with him. He knew how eager I was to know and he deliberately took his time in telling me. He had come to London and acted in a strange manner which had caused me a good deal of concern and it was clear that he thought that in itself was a great joke. I had imagined "my guardian," as he had called himself, to be quite different, and while I was all eagerness to understand the mystery which surrounded him, I felt irritated by him.
"The Bar Sinister comes into this," he said. "One of our ancestors—not so very far back, your great-grandfather—had a sister named Gwennol. Gwennol was beautiful and wild. There is a picture of her in the gallery. I must show it to you. The Kellaways were a great family. They owned the Islands and they lived
here in some state. A grand marriage would have been arranged for Gwennol, but one day she proudly announced that she was about to have a child. She would not name the father nor had she any intention of marrying. Her father, furious with her, threatened to turn her out of the castle unless she told him who was the father of her child. This she refused to do. She left the castle, taking with her several of the servants; whether they went through love or fear I don't know, for she was reputed to be a witch and it was said that the Devil was the father of her child." Again his eyes showed that flicker of amusement. "It may well have been true, for we Kellaways could be said to have some of the Devil in us. Does that apply to you, Ellen? But of course not! You're not of the Devil's strain. You come from the respectable side of the family. Well, this Gwennol went to the Blue Rock Island, which is only half a mile from here. You have seen it perhaps."
"I have. Mr. Tregardier pointed it out to me and I can see it from my window."
"That was where she went. She had a shelter built for herself there made of wood and grasses and she lived in it until her house was built. The house still stands. In it her son was born. He was my father."
"I begin to understand the relationship. We are a sort of cousin."
"Several times removed, but we are both Kellaways. I was quite young when my father died and I was brought to live at the castle with my sister Jenifry. Your father and I shared a schoolroom and played our games together. He and I managed the Island Estate together for some years; then he became too ill to do anything much and I took over completely. Last year your father died."
"And he never wanted to know where I was for so many years."
Jago looked at me steadily and shook his head. "But before he died he thought of you. He asked me to find you and to be your guardian until you reached the age of twenty-one."
"I'm not far off that now. He must have known that."
"Certainly he knew your age. It was not easy to find you. Your mother had determined to lose herself when she left the Island."
"She went to her own family, you know."
"Your father told me nothing of them. But when I saw the papers and learned that you were about to be married, I came to London."
"It seems strange that you should not have told me who you were."
"Ah, that was due to a little quirk in my nature. I have them, as you will discover. I like to surprise. I like life to be dramatic. I wanted to know you before you knew me. So I came to the recital."
"How? The Carringtons didn't know you."
"Shall we say I gate-crashed. It's easy enough—with a certain amount of aplomb. A quality which I possess in abundance. One didn't have to produce a ticket."
"What. . . impudence!"
"Yes, I have my share of that too."
"How did you get into the house in Finlay Square. You said the agent gave you a key, but it seems there were only two keys."
"That was what the agent told you. You know what these house agents are. They want to make sure of a sale and apparently there was some hesitation about this one."
"How was it that you were there at exactly the same time as I was?"
"I waited until I saw you enter the house. Easy to understand, eh? Let me tell you this: I had a duty. I am your guardian. I wanted to make sure what sort of family this was you were marrying into."
"You quickly discovered who the Carringtons were, I'm sure."
"Yes, I discovered a good deal about them. And then the tragedy happened and I asked you to come here. Is it becoming clear to you now?"
"Yes," I answered.
"I hope, Ellen," he said very earnestly, "that you will stay with us for a very long time."
"You are kind," I replied with a touch of asperity, for I didn't believe he was telling me the whole truth even now.
"I want you to like this place," he went on. "I feel strongly about it. It's been my home for so long. Your mother took you away but now you are back with us. You have come through a bitter tragedy and I hope that we shall help you grow away from it."
He looked sincere now. His heavy lids were lifted and his eyes seemed serene and very friendly. I think his was the most expressive face I had ever seen. A few moments before, he had looked so mischievous and I remembered that in the house in Finlay Square he had seemed almost satanic; now his looks matched his words and he had become the kindly protective guardian.
I was not sure of him but I did find him interesting.
"What shall I call you?" I asked.
"Jago, of course. That is my name and we're distant cousins. Don't let the fact that I am your guardian overawe you."
"Indeed I shall not. I have stood on my own feet most of my life and I certainly don't need a guardian at this stage."
"But you have one, Ellen, whether you want him or not, and as he is a man blessed—or cursed—with a very strong sense of duty, however much you object to his guardianship, he will feel obliged to honor his promises. So call me Jago and we'll be friends. It's the British form of James, you know, and it dates back to earliest times. As a student of the past—and I hope I'm going to interest you in some of our old customs—I make a point of knowing such things. James from the Latin Jacobus. It has no Spanish origin at all. Some people think it has because of the Spanish element along this coast. We were constantly raided by the Spaniards in Elizabethan days and then when the Armada failed, many of its seamen were wrecked here. But Jago is simply Old British . . . not English, mind you. What do you know of ancient history?"
"Very little," I answered. "I suppose I learned something from our governess, but I don't remember much."
"We're the pure British," he went on. "Uncontaminated by the races who made up the English. They didn't penetrate as far as the Islands, so we kept our characteristics . . . our old customs. You must discover something of this while you're here. It's Kellaway heritage. This Island has been in our possession for several centuries. It's a wonderful island; it's fertile, for the climate is conducive to growing things; we're protected by the rock formations on the east from the colder winds and on the west from the southwest gales, while the Gulf Stream keeps us warm. I'll show you the palms in my sheltered gardens. We have our township, our church, our cemetery, our inn, our thriving community. We are independent . . . almost... of the mainland; and it's all Kellaway land."
As he was speaking his manner changed yet again. Now he was glowing with pride of possession. I could see that he loved this Island and I warmed towards him because that fierce enthusiasm was infectious. I hadn't seen the place properly yet but I was beginning to glow with pride because 1 was a Kellaway and this was Kellaway land.
I waited eagerly for him to tell me more. He noticed my interest and remarked on it; it pleased him, I could see.
"I shall enjoy showing you everything, Ellen," he said. "We have our celebrations here—our mummers, our hurlers and wrestlers, our bonfires on Midsummer's Eve. All the old customs prevail here—more so perhaps than on the mainland—and some of these customs go back to pre-Christian days. But it is the family you must first get to know. There's Jenifry, my sister. She's a widow who lost her husband some years ago. That was during the typhoid epidemic which struck the mainland and filtered through to our Island. She's a few years older than I am and is the chatelaine of the castle, you might say. She's visiting one of the cottagers now who's bedridden. You'll learn how we care for everyone here. They look to us in their troubles. It's quite a responsibility, you know. Jenifry's daughter, Gwennol, will be company for you. She's about your age. She'll help look after you. Now tell me about yourself. . . and your life in your cousin's house."
I started to tell him and it seemed to amuse him, or perhaps I stressed the amusing side. I always seemed to do that when talking of Cousin Agatha.
"Oh come," he protested, "it wasn't very comfortable, was it? She had a daughter, didn't she, who wasn't half as attractive as you are? I saw that much. And she made you feel you were living on her bounty."
I was surprised th
at he had been so perceptive. "It's a common enough story," I said.
"And then," he went on, "this young man came forward—rich and indulgent. They wanted him for their daughter and he chose you—wise young man. And then he killed himself."
"He didn't. He could not have done it. If you had known him you would realize that was impossible."
"It's all over." His voice had become soft and soothing. "It's in the past. I mentioned it only because it had to be spoken of. Now we will not speak of it again. We have to think of the present. . . and the future. But before we dismiss the subject tell me what were your plans before you had my letter."
"I was going to be a governess to a friend of my cousin."
"And you were not looking forward to the prospect?"
"I hated it," I said vehemently.
"I should think so! You ... a governess! My dear Ellen, it wouldn't do. You're too proud for such a menial task. You should be engaging governesses for your own children."
"But I am unmarried."
"An attractive girl such as you are will not remain single long."
I shook my head. "I have no intention ..." I began.
"Of course you haven't until the right man comes along. As your guardian, I should like to see you happily married. Well now, I daresay you would like to go to your room and rest awhile. If there is anything you need, just ring the bell. Janet has been told to look after you."
I rose and he did the same, going to the bell rope and pulling it. Then he laid his hand on my shoulder and gripped it firmly. I could feel the strength of his fingers as we walked to the door.
Almost immediately a servant appeared.
"Take Miss Ellen to her room," he ordered, pressing my shoulder affectionately and smiling at me as he released me.
I went to my room in a strange mood. He was the most unusual man I had ever met. I was not at all sure of him and I could not rid myself of the feeling he had inspired in me when we had been alone in the house in Finlay Square. His moods seemed to change so quickly and his personality with them. Of one thing I was certain: I did not know what to make of my guardian-cousin Jago.
Lord of the Far Island Page 14
