I thought: I will regain their confidence, but of course I had to remember that as the future mistress of the house, I must not gossip as I once had.
I dined with Connan and Alvean and afterward I went up with Alvean; when I had said good night to her I joined Connan in the library.
There were so many plans to make, and I gave myself up to the complete joy of contemplating the future.
He asked me if I had written to my family, and I told him that I had not yet done so. I still could not quite believe this was really happening to me.
“Perhaps this token will help you to remember,” he said. Then he took a jewel case from a drawer in the bureau and showed me a beautiful square-cut emerald set in diamonds.
“It’s … quite beautiful, far too beautiful for me.”
“Nothing is too beautiful for Martha TreMellyn,” he said, and he took my left hand and put the ring on the third finger.
I held it out and stared at it.
“I never thought to possess anything so lovely.”
“It’s the beginning of all the beautiful things I shall bring to you. It’s the partridge in the pear tree, my darling.”
Then he kissed my hand, and I told myself that whenever I doubted the truth of all that was happening to me, I could look at my emerald and know I was not dreaming.
Next morning when I went down Connan had gone out on business, and after I had given Alvean and Gilly their lessons—for I was eager that everything should go on as before—I went to my room, and I had not been there for more than a few minutes when there was a discreet knock.
“Come in,” I said, and Mrs. Polgrey entered.
She looked a little furtive, and I knew that something significant had happened.
“Miss Leigh,” she said, “there will be things which we have to discuss. I was wondering if you would come to my room. I have the kettle on. Could you drink a cup of tea?”
I said I would like that. I was very anxious that there should be no difference in our relationship which, from my point of view, had always been a very pleasant and dignified one.
In her room we drank tea. There was no suggestion of whisky this time, and this secretly amused me although I made no reference to it. I should be the mistress of the house, and it was very different for her to know of the tea-tippling than the governess.
She again congratulated me on my engagement and told me how delighted she was. “In fact,” she said, “the whole household is delighted.” She asked me then if I intended to make changes, and I answered that, while the household was so efficiently run by herself, I should make none at all.
This was a relief to her, I could see, and she settled down to come to the point.
“While you’ve been away, Miss Leigh, there’s been a bit of excitement in these parts.”
“Oh?” I said, feeling that we were now coming to the reason for my visit.
“It’s all along of the sudden death of Sir Thomas Treslyn.”
My heart had begun to leap in a disconcerting manner. “But,” I said, “he is buried now. We went to his funeral.”
“Yes, yes. But that need not be the end, Miss Leigh.”
“I don’t understand, Mrs. Polgrey.”
“Well, there’s been rumors … nasty rumors, and letters have been sent.”
“To … to whom?”
“To her, Miss Leigh … to the widow. And, it seems, to others … and as a result they’re going to dig him up. There’s going to be an examination.”
“You mean … they suspect someone poisoned him?”
“Well, there’s been these letters, you see. And him dying so sudden. What I don’t like is that he was here last … . It’s not the sort of thing one likes to have connected with the house … .”
She was looking at me oddly. I thought I saw speculation in her eyes.
I wanted to shut from my mind all the unpleasant thoughts which kept coming to me.
I saw again Connan and Lady Treslyn in the punch room together, their backs toward me … laughing together. Had Connan loved me then? One would not have thought so. I thought of the words they had spoken in my hearing when the party was over. “It will not be long … now.” She had said that … and to him. And then there was the conversation I had partly overheard in the woods.
What did this mean?
There was a question that hammered in my brain. But I would not let my mind dwell on it.
I dared not. I could not bear to see all my hopes of happiness shattered. I had to go on believing, so I would not ask myself that question.
I looked expressionlessly into Mrs. Polgrey’s face.
“I thought you’d want to know,” she said.
EIGHT
I was afraid, more afraid than I had ever been since I came to this house.
The body of Sir Thomas Treslyn, who had died after supping at Mount Mellyn, was to be exhumed. People were suspicious of the manner in which he died and, as a result, there had been anonymous letters. Why should they be suspicious? Because his wife wanted him out of the way; and it was known that Connan and Linda Treslyn had been lovers. There had been two obstacles to their union—Alice and Sir Thomas. Both had died suddenly.
But Connan had no wish to marry Lady Treslyn. He was in love with me.
A terrible thought had struck me. Did Connan know that there was to be this exhumation? Had I been living in a fool’s paradise? Was my wonderful dream-come-true nothing but a living nightmare?
Was I being used by a cynic? Why did I not use the harsher word? Was I being used by a murderer?
I would not believe it. I loved Connan. I had sworn to be faithful to him all my life. How could I make such a vow when I believed the worst of him at the first crisis?
I tried to reason with myself. You’re crazy, Martha Leigh. Do you really think that a man such as Connan TreMellyn could suddenly fall in love with you!
Yes, I do. I do, I retorted hotly.
But I was a frightened woman.
I could see that the household was divided between two topics of conversation: the exhumation of Sir Thomas and the proposed marriage of the master and the governess.
I was afraid to meet the stern eyes of Mrs. Polgrey, the lewd ones of Tapperty, and the excited ones of his daughters.
Did they, as I had begun to do, connect these two events?
I asked Connan what he thought of the Treslyn affair.
“Mischief-makers,” he said. “They’ll have an autopsy and find he died a natural death. Why, his doctor has been attending him for years and has always told him that he must expect to go off like that.”
“It must be very worrying for Lady Treslyn.”
“She will not worry unduly. Indeed, since she has been pestered by letter writers she may well be relieved to have the matter brought to a head.”
I pictured the medical experts. They would no doubt be men who knew the Treslyns and Connan. As Connan was going to marry me—and he was very eager to spread the news—was it possible that they would approach the matter in a different spirit from that in which they would if they believed Lady Treslyn was eager to marry again? Who could say?
I must drive away these terrible thoughts. I would believe in Connan. I had to; if I did not I must face the fact that I had fallen in love with a murderer.
The invitations for the ball had gone out hastily—too hastily, I thought. Lady Treslyn, being in mourning and with the autopsy pending, was of course not invited. It was to take place only four days after our return from Penlandstow.
Celestine and Peter Nansellock rode over the day before the ball.
Celestine put her arms about me and kissed me.
“My dear,” she said, “how happy I am. I have watched you with Alvean and I know what this is going to mean to her.” There were tears in her eyes. “Alice would be so happy.”
I thanked her and said: “You have always been such a good friend to me.”
“I was so grateful that at last the child had found a governes
s who really understood her.”
I said: “I thought Miss Jansen did that.”
“Miss Jansen, yes. We all thought so. It was a pity she was not honest. Perhaps, though, it was the temptation of a moment. I did all I could to help her.”
“I’m so glad somebody did.”
Peter had come up. He took my hand and kissed it lightly. Connan’s look of displeasure made my heart beat fast with happiness, and I was ashamed of my suspicions.
“Fortunate Connan,” cried Peter exuberantly. “No need to tell you how much I envy him, is there! I think I’ve made it clear. I’ve brought over Jacinth. I told you I’d make you a present of her, didn’t I? Well, she’s my wedding present. You can’t object to that, can you?”
I looked at Connan. “A present for us both,” I said.
“Oh no,” said Peter. “She’s for you. I’ll think of something else for Con.”
“Thank you, Peter,” I said. “It’s generous of you.”
He shook his head. “Couldn’t bear the thought of her going to anyone else. I feel sentimental about that mare. I want a good home for her. You know I’m going at the end of next week.”
“So soon?”
“Everything has been speeded up. There’s no point in delaying further.” He looked at me significantly—“now,” he added.
I saw that Kitty, who was serving us with wine, was listening with all attention.
Celestine was talking earnestly to Connan, and Peter went on: “So it’s you and Con, after all. Well, you’ll keep him in order, Miss Leigh. I’m sure of that.”
“I am not going to be his governess, you know.”
“I’m not sure. Once a governess, always a governess. I thought Alvean seemed not displeased by the new arrangement.”
“I think she’s going to accept me.”
“I think you’re an even greater favorite than Miss Jansen was.”
“Poor Miss Jansen! I wonder what became of her.”
“Celeste did something for her. She was rather worried about the poor girl, I think.”
“Oh, I’m so glad.”
“Helped her to find another place … with some friends of ours actually. The Merrivales who have a place on the edge of Dartmoor. I wonder how our gay Miss Jansen likes Hoodfield Manor. Finds it a bit dull, I should imagine, with Tavistock, the nearest town, quite six miles away.”
“It was very kind of Celestine to help her.”
“Well, that’s Celestine all over.” He lifted his glass. “To your happiness, Miss Leigh. And whenever you ride Jacinth, think of me.”
“I shall … and of Jacinth’s namesake, Miss Jansen.”
He laughed. “And if,” he went on, “you should change your mind …”
I raised my eyebrows.
“About marrying Connan, I mean. There’ll be a little homestead waiting for you on the other side of the world. You’ll find me ever faithful, Miss Leigh.”
I laughed and sipped my wine.
The next day Alvean and I went riding together, and I was mounted on Jacinth. She was a wonderful creature and I enjoyed every moment of the ride. I felt that this was another of the glorious things which were happening to me. I even had my own mount now.
The ball was a great success and I was surprised how ready the neighborhood was to accept me. The fact that I had been Alvean’s governess was forgotten. I felt that Connan’s neighbors were reminding each other that I was an educated young woman and that my family background was passably good. Perhaps those who were fond of him were relieved because he was engaged to be married, for they would not wish him to be involved in the Treslyn scandal.
The day after the ball Connan had to go away again on business.
“I neglected a great deal during our stay at Penlandstow,” he said. “There were things I simply forgot to do. It is understandable. My mind was on other matters. I shall be away a week, I think, and when I come back it’ll be but a fortnight before our wedding. You’ll be getting on with your preparations, and darling, if there’s anything you want to do in the house … if there’s anything you want to change, do say so. It mightn’t be a bad idea to ask Celestine’s advice; she’s an expert on old houses.”
I said I would, because it would please her, and I wanted to please her.
“She was kind to me right from the first,” I said. “I shall always have a soft feeling for her.”
He said good-by and drove off while I stood at my window, waving. I did not care to do so from the porch because I was still a little shy of the servants.
When I went out of my room I found Gilly standing outside the door. Since I had told her that I was to be Mrs. TreMellyn she had taken to following me around. I was beginning to understand the way her mind worked. She was fond of me in exactly the same way that she had been fond of Alice, and with the passing of each day the two of us became in her mind merged into one. Alice had disappeared from her life; she was going to make sure that I did not.
“Hello, Gilly,” I said.
She dropped her head in that characteristic way of hers and laughed to herself.
Then she put her hand in mine and I led her back to my room.
“Well, Gilly,” I said, “in three weeks’ time I am going to be married, and I am the happiest woman in the world.”
I was really trying to reassure myself, for sometimes talking to Gilly was like talking to oneself.
I thought of what Connan had said about altering anything I wished to in the house, and I remembered that there were some parts of it which I had not even seen yet.
I suddenly thought of Miss Jansen and what I had been told about her having a different room from the one I occupied. I had never seen Miss Jansen’s room and I decided that I would go along now and inspect it. I need have no qualms now about going to any part of the house I wished, for in a very short time I should be mistress of it.
“Come along, Gilly,” I said. “We’ll go and see Miss Jansen’s room.”
She trotted along contentedly by my side, and I thought how much more intelligent she was than people realized, for it was she who led me to Miss Jansen’s room.
There was nothing very unusual about it. It was smaller than mine. But there was a rather striking mural. I was looking at this when Gilly tugged at my arm and drew me close to it. She pulled up a chair and stood on it. Then I understood. There, in this wall, was a peep like that in the solarium. I looked through it and saw the chapel. It was of course a different view from that to be seen in the solarium, as it was from the opposite side.
Gilly looked at me, delighted to have shown me the peep. We went back to my room, and clearly she did not want to leave me.
I could see that she was apprehensive. I understood, of course. Her somewhat confused mind had so clearly associated me with Alice that she expected me to disappear as Alice had done.
She was determined to keep an eye on me so that this should not happen.
All through the night a southwest gale was blowing in from the sea. The rain which came with it was driven horizontally against our windows, and even the solid foundations of Mount Mellyn seemed to shake. It was one of the wettest nights I had known since my arrival in Cornwall.
The next day the rain continued; everything in my room—the mirrors, the furniture—was misty with damp. It was what happened often enough, Mrs. Polgrey told me, when the southwest wind came bringing rain with it, which it invariably did.
Alvean and I could not go out riding that day.
By the following morning the skies had cleared a little, and the heavy rain gave way to a light drizzle. Lady Treslyn called, but I did not see her. She did not ask for me; it was Mrs. Polgrey who told me she had called and that she had wished to see Connan.
“She seemed very distressed,” said Mrs. Polgrey. “She’ll not rest until this terrible business is over.”
I felt sure that Lady Treslyn had come over to talk to Connan about his engagement to me and that she was probably distressed because he was not at home.
Celestine Nansellock also called. We had a chat about the house. She said she was pleased that I was becoming very interested in Mount Mellyn.
“Not only as a home,” she said, “but as a house.” She went on: “I have some old documents about Mount Mellyn and Mount Widden. I’ll show them to you one day.”
“You must help me,” I told her. “It’ll be fun discussing things together.”
“You’ll make some changes?” she asked.
“If I do,” I assured her, “I shall ask your advice.”
She left before luncheon, and in the afternoon Alvean and I went down to the stables for the horses.
We stood by while Billy Trehay saddled them for us.
“Jacinth be frisky today, miss,” he told me.
“It’s because she had no exercise yesterday.” I stroked her muzzle and she rubbed against my hand to show she shared my affection.
We took our usual ride down the slope, past the cove and Mount Widden; then we went along the cliff path. The view here was particularly beautiful with the jagged coast stretched out before us and Rame Head lying in the water, hiding Plymouth and its Sound from view.
Some of the paths were narrow, cut into the cliffs at spots where it had been convenient to do so. Up and down we went; sometimes we were almost down to the sea; at others we climbed high.
It was not very easy going, for the rain had whipped up the mud and I began to feel a little anxious about Alvean. She sat firmly in her saddle—no novice now—but I was conscious of Jacinth’s mood and I expected Black Prince’s was not much different, although, of course, he hadn’t Jacinth’s fiery temperament. At times I had to rein her in firmly; a gallop would have been more to her taste than this necessarily slow careful walk along paths which were a good deal more dangerous than when we had come this way on our last ride.
There was one spot on this cliff path which was particularly narrow; above the path loomed the cliff face, dotted with bushes of gorse and brambles; below it, the cliff fell almost sheer to the sea. The path was safe enough ordinarily; but I felt a little nervous about Alvean’s using it on a day like this.