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The King's General

Page 39

by Daphne Du Maurier


  "One passenger?" I said.

  "Why, yes, there was but one," said Jonathan, staring at me. "Is anything the matter? You looked wisht and strange."

  I went on listening to the gulls above the harbor, and now there were children's voices also, laughing and crying, as they played upon the steps of the quay. "There is nothing the matter," I said. "What else have you to tell me?"

  He went to his desk in the far corner, and, opening a drawer, took out a length of rope, with a rusted hinge upon it.

  "As the passenger was put aboard the vessel," said my brother-in-law, "he gave the fisher lad this piece of rope, and bade him hand it, on his return, to Mr. Rashleigh. The lad brought it to me as I breakfasted just now. There was a piece of paper wrapped about it, with these words written on the face: 'Tell Honor that the least of the Grenviles chose his own method of escape.' "

  He handed me the little scrap of paper.

  "What does it mean?" he asked. "Do you understand it?"

  For a long while I did not answer. I sat there with the paper in my hands, and I saw once more the ashes of the summerhouse blocking for evermore the secret tunnel, and I saw too the silent cell, like a dark tomb, in the thick buttress wall.

  "Yes, Jonathan," I said, "I understand."

  He looked at me a moment, and then went to the table and put the rope and hinge back in the drawer.

  "Well," he said, "it's over now, praise heaven. The danger and the strain. There is nothing more that we can do."

  "No," I answered. "Nothing more that we can do."

  He fetched two glasses from the sideboard, and filled them with wine from the decanter. Then he handed one to me. "Drink this," he said kindly, his hand upon my arm. "You have been through great anxiety." He took his glass, and lifted it to the ship that had carried his father to the Armada.

  "To the other Frances," he said, "and to the King's General in the West. May he find sanctuary and happiness in Holland."

  I drank the toast in silence, then put the glass back upon the table. "You have not finished it," he said. "That spells ill luck to him whom we have toasted."

  I took the glass again, and this time I held it up against the light so that the wine shone clear and red.

  "Did you ever hear," I said, "those words that Bevil Grenvile wrote to Jonathan Trelawney?"

  "What words were those?"

  Once more we were assembled, four-and-twenty hours ago, in the long gallery at Menabilly. Richard at the window, Gartred on the couch, and Dick, in his dark corner, with his eyes upon his father. " 'And for mine own part,' " I quoted slowly, " 'I desire to acquire an honest name or an honorable grave. I never loved my life or ease so much as to shun such an occasion, which, if I should, I were unworthy of the profession I have held, or to succeed those ancestors of mine who have so many of them, in several ages, sacrificed their lives for their country.' "

  I drank my wine then to the dregs, and gave the glass to Jonathan.

  "Great words," said my brother-in-law, "and the Grenviles were all great men. As long as the name endures, we shall be proud of them in Cornwall. But Bevil was the finest of them. He showed great courage at the last."

  "The least of them," I said, "showed great courage also."

  "Which one was that?" he asked.

  "Only a boy," I said, "whose name will never now be written in the great book at Stowe, nor his grave be found in the little churchyard at Kilkhampton."

  "You are crying," said Jonathan slowly. "This time has been hard and long for you. There is a bed prepared for you above. Let Matty take you to it. Come now, take heart. The worst is over. The best is yet to be. One day the King will come into his own again; one day your Richard will return."

  I looked up at the model of the ship upon the ledge, and across the masts to the blue harbor water. The fishing boats were making sail, and the gulls flew above them crying, white wings against the sky.

  "One day," I said, "when the snow melts, when the thaw breaks, when the spring comes."

  What Happened to the People in the Story

  SIR RICHARD GRENVILE

  The King's General never returned to England again. He bought a house in Holland, where he lived with his daughter Elizabeth until his death in 1659, just a year before the Restoration. He offered his services to the Prince of Wales in exile (afterwards Charles II), but they were not accepted, due to the ill feeling between himself and Sir Edward Hyde, later Earl of Clarendon. The exact date of his death is uncertain, but he is said to have died in Ghent, lonely and embittered, with these words only for his epitaph: "Sir Richard Grenvile, the King's General in the West."

  SIR JOHN GRENVILE (JACK). BERNARD GRENVILE (BUNNY)

  These two brothers were largely instrumental in bringing about the restoration of Charles II in 1660. They both married, lived happily, and were in high favor with the King. John was created Earl of Bath.

  GARTRED DENYS

  She never married again, but left Orley Court and went to live with one of her married daughters, Lady Hampson, at Taplow, where she died at the ripe age of eighty-five.

  JONATHAN RASHLEIGH

  Suffered further imprisonment for debt at the hands of Parliament, but lived to see the Restoration. He died in 1675, a year after his wife, Mary.

  JOHN RASHLEIGH

  He died in 1651, aged only thirty, in Devon, when on the road home to Menabilly, after a visit to London about his father's business. His widow Joan lived in Fowey until her death in 1668, aged forty-eight. Her son Jonathan succeeded to his grandfather's estates at Menabilly.

  SIR PETER COURTNEY

  He deserted his wife, ran hopelessly into debt, married a second time, and died in 1670.

  ALICE COURTNEY

  Lived the remainder of her life at Menabilly, and died there in 1659, aged forty. There is a tablet to her memory in the church at Tywardreath.

  AMBROSE MANATON

  Little is known about him, except that he was M.P. for Camelford in 1668. His estate, Trecarrel, fell into decay.

  ROBIN AND HONOR HARRIS

  The brother and sister lived in retirement at Tywardreath, in a house provided for them by Jonathan Rashleigh. Honor died on the 17th day of November 1653, and Robin in June 1655. Thus they never lived to see the Restoration. The tablet to their memory in the church runs thus: "In memory of Robert Harris, sometime Major General of His Majesty's forces before Plymouth, who was buried hereunder the 29th day of June 1655. And of Honor Harris, his sister, who was likewise hereunder neath buried, the 17th day of November, in the year of our Lord 1653.

  Loyall and stout; thy Crime this--this thy praise,

  Thou'rt here with Honor laid--thought without Bayes."

  Postscript

  In the year 1824, Mr. William Rashleigh, of Menabilly, in the parish of Tywardreath in Cornwall, had certain alterations made to his house, in the course of which the outer courtyard was removed, and blocked in to form kitchens and a larder. The architect, summoned to do the work, noticed that the buttress against the northwest corner of the house served no useful purpose, and he told the masons to demolish it. This they proceeded to do, and on knocking away several of the stones they came upon a stair, leading to a small room, or cell, at the base of the buttress. Here they found the skeleton of a young man, seated on a stool, a trencher at his feet, and the skeleton was dressed in the clothes of a Cavalier, as worn during the period of the Civil War. Mr. William Rashleigh, when he was told of the discovery, gave orders for the remains to be buried with great reverence in the churchyard at Tywardreath. And because he and his family were greatly shocked at the discovery, he ordered the masons to brick up the secret room, that no one in the household should come upon it in future. The alterations of the house continued, the courtyard was blocked in, a larder built against the buttress, and the exact whereabouts of the cell remained forever a secret held by Mr. Rashleigh and his architect. When he consulted family records, Mr. Rashleigh learned that certain members of the Grenvile family had hidden at Menabilly be
fore the rising of 1648, and he surmised that one of them had taken refuge in the secret room and had been forgotten. This tradition has been handed down to the present day.

  DAPHNE DU MAURIER

  About the Author

  Daphne du Maurier (1907-1989) was born in London, the daughter of the actor Sir Gerald du Maurier and granddaughter of the author and artist George du Maurier. Her first novel, The Loving Spirit, was published in 1931, but it would be her fifth novel, Rebecca, that made her one of the most popular authors of her day. Besides novels, du Maurier wrote plays, biographies, and several collections of short fiction. Many of her works were made into films, including Rebecca, Jamaica Inn, My Cousin Rachel, "Don't Look Now," and "The Birds." She lived most of her life in Cornwall, and was made a Dame of the British Empire in 1969.

  Books by Daphne du Maurier

  Novels

  The Loving Spirit

  I'll Never Be Young Again

  Julius

  Jamaica Inn

  Rebecca

  Frenchman's Creek

  Hungry Hill

  The King's General

  The Parasites

  My Cousin Rachel

  Mary Anne

  The Scapegoat

  Castle Dor

  The GlassBlowers

  The Flight of the Falcon

  The House on the Strand

  Rule Britannia

  Short Stories

  The Birds and Other Stories

  The Breaking Point: Stories

  Don't Look Now and Other Stories

  Nonfiction

  Gerald: A Portrait

  The du Mauriers

  The Infernal World of Branwell Bronte

  Golden Lads: A Study of Anthony Bacon, Francis, and Their Friends

  The Winding Stair: Francis Bacon, His Rise and Fall

  Myself When Young

  The Rebecca Notebook and Other Memories

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  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Welcome

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  What Happened to the People in the Story

  Postscript

  About the Author

  Books by Daphne du Maurier

  Newsletters

  Copyright

  Copyright

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Copyright (c) 1946 by The Estate of Daphne du Maurier Foreword copyright (c) 2004 by Justine Picardie Cover design by Susan Zucker

  Cover image by Arcangel

  Cover copyright (c) 2013 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author's intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at permissions@hbgusa.com. Thank you for your support of the author's rights.

  Little, Brown and Company

  Hachette Book Group

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  First Little, Brown ebook edition: December 2013

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  ISBN 978-0-316-25295-9

  E3

 

 

 


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