I warned Alvean to be watchful of boulders, but she was sure-seated and alert now, so I did not feel greatly concerned.
We studied the map which would guide us to Great-aunt Clara’s house—a few miles south of Bodmin. Alvean had traveled there in a carriage once or twice and she thought she would know the road; but the moor was the easiest place in the world in which to lose oneself, and I thought we could profit by the occasion to learn a little map-reading.
But I had left a great deal of my severity behind and I found myself laughing with Alvean when we took the wrong road and had to retrace our steps.
But at length we reached the “House on the Moors” which was the picturesque name of Great-aunt Clara’s home.
And a charming house it was, set there on the outskirts of a moorland village. There was the church, the little inn, the few houses, and the House on the Moors which was like a small manor house.
Great-aunt Clara lived here with three servants to minister to her wants, and when we arrived there was great excitement as we were quite unexpected.
“Why, bless my soul if it b‘aint Miss Alvean!” cried an elderly housekeeper. “And who be this you have brought with ’ee, my dear?”
“It is Miss Leigh, my governess,” said Alvean.
“Well now! And be there just the two on you? And b’aint your papa here?”
“No. Papa has gone to Penzance.”
I wondered then whether I had been wrong in acceding to Alvean’s wishes, and had forgotten my position by imposing myself on Great-aunt Clara without first asking permission.
I wondered if I should be banished to the kitchen to eat with the servants. Such a procedure did not greatly disturb me, but I would rather have done that than sit down with a haughty, disapproving old woman.
But I was soon reassured. We were taken into a drawing room and there was Great-aunt Clara, a charming old lady seated in an armchair, white-haired, pink-cheeked, with bright friendly eyes. There was an ebony stick beside her, so I guessed she had difficulty in walking.
Alvean ran to her and she was warmly embraced.
Then the lively blue eyes were on me.
“So you are Alvean’s governess, my dear,” she said. “Well, that is nice. And how thoughtful of you to bring her to see me. It is particularly fortunate, for I have my grandson staying with me and I fear he grows a little weary of having no playmate of his own age. When he hears Alvean has arrived he’ll be quite excited.”
I did not believe that the grandson could be any more excited than Great-aunt Clara herself. She was certainly charming to me, so much so that I forgot my diffidence and I really did feel like a friend calling on a friend, rather than a governess bringing her charge to see a relative.
Dandelion wine was brought out and we were pressed to take a glass. There were wine cakes with it and I must say I found the wine delicious. I allowed Alvean to take a very small glass of it but when I had taken mine I wondered whether I had been wise, for it was certainly potent.
Great-aunt Clara wished to hear all the news of Mount Mellyn; she was indeed a garrulous lady, and I thought it was because she lived a somewhat lonely life in her house on the moors.
The grandson appeared—a handsome boy a little younger than Alvean—and the pair of them went off to play, although I warned Alvean not to go too far away as we must be home before dark.
As soon as Alvean had left us I saw that Great-aunt Clara was eager for a real gossip; and whether it was that I had taken her potent dandelion wine or whether I believed her to be a link with Alice, I am not sure; but I found her conversation fascinating.
She spoke of Alice as I had not until now heard her spoken of—with complete candor; and I quickly realized that from this gossipy lady I was going to discover a great deal more than I could from anyone else.
As soon as we were alone she said: “And now tell me how things really are at Mount Mellyn.”
I raised my eyebrows as though I did not fully comprehend her meaning.
She went on: “It was such a shock when poor Alice died. It was so sudden. Such a tragic thing to happen to such a young girl—for she was little more than a girl.”
“Is that so?”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t heard what happened.”
“I know very little about it.”
“Alice and Geoffry Nansellock, you know. They went off together … eloped. And then this terrible accident.”
“I have heard that there was an accident.”
“I think of them—those two young people—quite often, in the dead of the night. And then I blame myself.”
I was astonished. I did not understand how this gentle talkative old lady could blame herself for Alice’s infidelity to her husband.
“One should never interfere in other people’s lives. Or should one? What do you think, my dear? If one can be helpful …”
“Yes,” I said firmly, “if one can be helpful I think one should be forgiven for interference.”
“But how is one to know whether one is being helpful or the reverse?”
“One can only do what one thinks is right.”
“But one might be doing right and yet be quite unhelpful?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“I think of her so much … my poor little niece. She was a sweet creature. But, shall I say, not equipped to face the cruelties of fate.”
“Oh, was she like that?”
“I can see that you, Miss Leigh, are so good for that poor child. Alice would be so happy if she could see what you’ve done for her. The last time I saw her she was with her … with Connan. She was not nearly so happy … so relaxed as she is today.”
“I’m so glad of that. I am encouraging her to ride. I think that has done her a world of good.” I was loth to interrupt that flow of talk from which I might extract some fresh evidence about Alice. I was afraid that at any moment Alvean and the grandson would return, and I knew that in their presence there would be no confidences. “You were telling me about Alvean’s mother. I am sure you have nothing with which to reproach yourself.”
“I wish I could believe that. It worries me sometimes. Perhaps I shouldn’t weary you. But you seem so sympathetic, and you are there, living in the house. You are looking after little Alvean like … like a mother. It makes me feel very grateful to you, my dear.”
“I am paid for doing it, you know.” I could not resist that remark, and I thought of the smile it would have brought to Peter Nansellock’s lips.
“There are some things in this world which cannot be bought. Love … devotion … they are some of them. Alice stayed with me before her marriage. Here … in this house. It was so convenient, you see. It was only a few hours’ ride from Mount Mellyn. It gave the young people a chance to know each other.”
“The young people?”
“The engaged pair.”
“Did they not know each other then?”
“The marriage had been arranged when they were in their cradles. She brought him a lot of property. They were well matched. Both rich, both of good families. Connan’s father was alive then and, you know, Connan was a wild boy with a will of his own. The feeling was that they should be married as soon as possible.”
“So he allowed this marriage to be arranged for him?”
“They both took it as a matter of course. Well, she stayed with me several months before the wedding. I loved her dearly.”
I thought of little Gilly and I said: “I think a great many people loved her dearly.”
Great-aunt Clara nodded; and at that moment Alvean and the grandson came in.
“I want to show Alvean my drawings,” he announced.
“Well, go and get them,” said his grandmother. “Bring them down and show her here.”
I believed that she realized she had talked a little too much and was afraid of her own garrulity. It was clear to me that she was the sort of woman who could never keep a secret; how could she when she was ready to confide secret family histo
ry to me, a stranger?
The grandson returned with his portfolio, and the children sat at the table. I went over to them and I was so proud of Alvean’s attempts at drawing that I determined again to speak to her father about drawing lessons at the first opportunity.
Yet as I watched, I felt frustrated. I was sure that Great-aunt Clara had been on the point of confiding something to me which was of the utmost importance.
Aunt Clara gave us luncheon and we left immediately after. We found our way back with the utmost ease, but I was determined to ride out again, and that before long, to the House on the Moors.
When I was strolling through the village one day I passed the little jeweler’s shop there. But perhaps that was scarcely the term to use when describing it. There were no valuable gems in the window; a few silver brooches and plain gold rings, some engraved with the word Mizpah, or studded with semiprecious stones, such as turquoises, topazes, and garnets. I guessed that the villagers bought their engagement and wedding rings here and that the jeweler made a living by doing repairs.
I saw in the window a brooch in the form of a whip. It was of silver, and quite tasteful, I decided, although it was by no means expensive.
I wanted to buy that whip for Alvean and give it to her the night before the horse show, telling her that it was to bring her luck.
I opened the door and went down the three steps into the shop.
Seated behind the counter was an old man wearing steel-rimmed spectacles. He let his glasses fall to the tip of his nose as he peered at me.
“I want to see the brooch in the window,” I said. “The silver one in the form of a whip.”
“Oh yes, miss,” he said, “I’ll show it to you with pleasure.”
He brought it from the window and handed it to me.
“Here,” he said, “pin it on and have a look at it.” He indicated the little mirror on the counter. I obeyed him and decided that the brooch was neat, not gaudy, and in the best of taste.
As I was looking at it I noticed a tray of ornaments with little tickets attached to them. They were clearly jewelery which he had received for repair. Then I wondered whether this was the jeweler to whom Alice had brought her brooch last July.
The jeweler said to me: “You’re from Mount Mellyn, miss?”
“Yes,” I said; and I smiled encouragingly. I was becoming very ready to talk to anyone who I thought might have any information to offer me on this subject which appeared to obsess me. “As a matter of fact I want to give the brooch to my pupil.”
Like most people in small villages he was very much interested in those living around him.
“Ah,” he said, “poor motherless little girl. It’s heartening to think she has a kind lady like yourself to look after her now.”
“I’ll take the brooch,” I told him.
“I’ll find a little box for it. A nice little box makes all the dif ference when it be a matter of a present, don’t you agree, miss?”
“Most certainly.”
He bent and from under the counter brought a small cardboard box which he began to stuff with cotton wool.
“Make a little nest for it, miss,” he said with a smile.
I fancied that he was loth to let me go.
“Don’t see much of them from the Mount these days. Mrs. TreMellyn, her was often in.”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“See a little trinket in the window and she’d buy it … sometimes for herself, sometimes for others. Why, she was in here the day she died.”
His voice had sunk to a whisper and I felt excitement grip me. I thought of Alice’s diary which was still in the concealed pocket of her habit.
“Really?” I said encouragingly.
He laid the brooch on the cotton wool and looked at me. “I thought ’twas a little odd at the time. I remember it very clearly. She came in here and said to me: ‘Have you got the brooch done, Mr. Pastern? It’s very important that I should have it. I’m anxious to wear it tomorrow. I’m going to a dinner party at Mr. and Mrs. Trelanders’, and Mrs. Trelander gave me that brooch as a Christmas present, so you see it’s most important I should wear it to show her I appreciate it.’” His eyes were puzzled as they looked into mine. “She were a lady who talked like that. She’d tell you where she was going, why she wanted a thing. I couldn’t believe my ears when I heard she’d left home that very evening. Didn’t seem possible that she could have been telling me about the dinner party she was going to the next day, you see.”
“No,” I said, “it was certainly very strange.”
“You see, miss, there was no need for her to say anything to me like. If she’d said it to some, it might seem as though she was trying to pull the wool over their eyes. But why should she say such a thing to me, miss? That’s what I’ve been wondering. Sometimes I think of it … and still wonder.”
“I expect there’s an answer,” I said. “Perhaps you misunderstood her.”
He shook his head. He did not believe that he had misunderstood. Nor did I. I had seen the entry in her diary and what I had read there confirmed what the jeweler had said.
Celestine Nansellock rode over the next day to see Alvean. We were about to go for our riding lesson, and she insisted on coming with us.
“Now, Alvean,” I said, “is the time to have a little rehearsal. See if you can surprise Miss Nansellock as you hope to surprise your father.”
We were going to practice jumping, and we rode down through the Mellyn village and beyond.
Celestine was clearly astonished by Alvean’s progress.
“But you’ve done wonders with her, Miss Leigh.”
We watched Alvean canter round the field. “I hope her father is going to be pleased. She has entered for one of the events in the horse show.”
“He’ll be delighted, I’m sure.”
“Please don’t say anything to him beforehand. We do want it to be a surprise.”
Celestine smiled at me. “He’ll be very grateful to you, Miss Leigh. I’m sure of that.”
“I’m counting on his being rather pleased.”
I was conscious of her eyes upon me as she smiled at me benignly. She said suddenly: “Oh, Miss Leigh, about my brother Peter. I did want to speak to you confidentially about that matter of Jacinth.”
I flushed faintly, and I was annoyed with myself for doing so.
“I know he gave you the horse and you returned it as too valuable a gift.”
“Too valuable a gift to accept,” I answered, “and too expensive for me to be able to maintain.”
“Of course. I’m afraid he is very thoughtless. But he is the most generous man alive. He’s rather afraid he has offended you.”
“Please tell him I’m not offended, and if he thinks awhile he will understand why I can’t accept such a gift.”
“I explained to him. He admires you very much, Miss Leigh, but there was an ulterior motive behind the gift. He wanted a good home for Jacinth. You know that he plans to leave England.”
“He did mention it.”
“I expect he will sell some of the horses. I shall keep a couple for myself, but there is no point in keeping an expensive stable with only myself at the house.”
“No, I suppose not.”
“He saw you on Jacinth and thinks you’d be a worthy mistress for her. That was why he wanted you to have her. He’s very fond of that mare.”
“I see.”
“Miss Leigh, you would like to possess a horse like that?”
“Who wouldn’t?”
“Suppose I asked Connan if it could be taken into his stables and kept there for you to ride. How would that be?”
I replied emphatically: “It is most kind of you, Miss Nansellock, and I do appreciate your desire—and that of your brother—to please me. But I do not wish for any special favors here. Mr. TreMellyn has a full and adequate stable for the needs of us all. I should be very much against asking for special favors for myself.”
“I see,” she said, “
that you are very determined and very proud.”
She leaned forward and touched my hand in a friendly manner. There was a faint mist of tears in her eyes. She was touched by my position, and understood how desperately I clung to my pride because it was my only possession.
I thought her kind and considerate, and I could understand why Alice had made a friend of her. I felt that I too could easily become her friend, for she had never made me in the least conscious of my social position in the house.
One day, I thought, I’ll tell her what I’ve discovered about Alice.
But not yet. I was, as her brother had said, as spiky as a hedgehog. I did not think for a moment that I should be rebuffed by Celestine Nansellock, but just at this time I was not going to run any risk.
Alvean joined us, and Celestine complimented her on her riding. Then we went back to the house, and tea, over which I presided, was served in the punch room.
I thought what a happy afternoon that was.
Connan TreMellyn came back the day before the horse show. I was glad he had not returned before, because I was afraid that Alvean might betray her excitement.
I was entered for one of the early events in which points were scored, particularly for jumping. It was what they called a mixed event which meant that men and women competed together.
Tapperty, who knew I was going to enter, wouldn’t hear of my riding on Dion.
“Why, miss,” he said, the day before the show, “if you’d have took Jacinth when she was offered you, you would have got first prize. That mare be a winner and so would you be, miss, on her back. Old Dion, he’s a good old fellow, but he ain’t no prize winner. How’d you say to taking Royal Rover?”
“What if Mr. TreMellyn objected?”
Tapperty winked. “Nay, he’d not object. He’ll be riding out to the horse show on May Morning, so old Royal ‘ull be free. I’ll tell ’ee what, just suppose master was to say to me, ‘Saddle up Royal Rover for me, Tapperty.’ Right, then I’d saddle the Rover for him and it would be May Morning for you, miss. Nothing ’ud please master more than for to see his horse win a prize.”
Mistress of Mellyn Page 14
