The Road to Paradise Island Read online

  But it was not a morning for sadness. I had almost made up my mind that when Raymond asked me to marry him I would accept. If I were not madly in love, at least I was reasonably involved. I wanted this visit to go on and on; and when we returned home I should miss him. I tried to imagine how I should feel, if he announced tonight that he was going to marry someone else. There had been two pretty girls at dinner last night. What had I felt when I had seen him laughing and chatting with them? Was that a faint twinge of jealousy?

  Granny M was right. My life with him would be very pleasant. I should be foolish if I did not take the opportunity which was being offered to me. Deep, abiding love could grow out of affection—and I certainly felt that for him.

  I visualized how pleased everyone would be if we announced our engagement. It was what they wanted and I had a notion that they

  expected us to announce it... perhaps on our last night. Then I should leave the house engaged to be married.

  We should plunge into preparations. There would be so much to do that there would not be time to wonder where Philip was. I should forget now and then to look for a letter—only to have that hope dashed when there was none.

  Yes, it seemed very likely that Raymond was going to ask me and that I was going to say Yes.

  But he did not ask me that morning. Perhaps I had managed to convey my uncertainty to him.

  The grandmother was not very well the next day so I did not go to see her as planned.

  "Leave it for a day or so," said Grace. "She soon recovers and when she does she is very bright indeed. When you saw her she was not herself. She is usually very alert."

  I said I thought she had been then, but Grace said: "Oh, but you don't know Grandmother. She can be very talkative when she is in form."

  The days passed. There were rides with Raymond, Basil, and Grace. I very much enjoyed the evenings when we sat down to dinner with the family and sometimes their neighbours. They were rather given to entertaining. The conversation was always lively and when there were guests it diverged from cartography to politics. I listened avidly and as I had always taken an interest in affairs liked to contribute my own views.

  One of the delightful aspects of life with the Billingtons was that if a subject was brought up it was always debated with some heat and not a little passion; but there was never any unpleasantness. It was in the nature of a debate rather than an argument.

  The Irish question was, of course, on everyone's lips and the fate of Charles Stewart Parnell was discussed at some length. The divorce in which Captain O'Shea had cited him as co-respondent had ruined his career and the question was whether a man who was undoubtedly a leader should be condemned and dismissed from office on account of his private life.

  I declared warmly that his work and his private life were two separate matters. I was assailed by Granny and Mrs. Billington who thought that Mr. Parnell's lapse from morality had rightly caused his fall from grace. Raymond was on my side. Grace hovered between the two; and Basil and James were inclined to agree with him while Mr. Billington swayed towards the point of view of Granny M and Mrs. Billington.

  I had rarely enjoyed a meal so much and I thought: This is how it will be when I become one of them. It was a most exciting debate

  and we sat long over the dinner table. And when the servants came to light the gas I was sure I wanted to stay here and become one of them.

  I was enamoured of the entire family and the big rather ugly Victorian house which was so comfortable ... as they were.

  If I did not agree to marry Raymond I was beginning to believe that I would regret it all my life.

  The next morning we went riding again. It was one of those lovely days towards the end of the month when the first whiff of autumn is in the air and you know that September is just round the corner, bringing with it a chill in the mornings and mists in the valleys.

  We stopped at an inn for a glass of cider and as we sat there Raymond smiled across the table at me and said: "I believe you are getting quite fond of my family."

  "Who could help it," I replied.

  "I agree that they are rather nice to know."

  "And I could not agree more."

  "The more you know of them the more you will love them. You will have to put up with Grace's absent-mindedness, with Basil's assumption that he knows everything and James's determination to prove that he does too; with my father's preoccupation with maps and my mother's with her garden; and mine... Well, I am not going to tell you my failings. I just hope you won't discover them for a very long time."

  "I refuse to believe that you have any shortcomings. You're a perfect family and you all fit so well together. Granny and I are going to be sorry to leave you."

  He put his hand across the table and took mine.

  "You'll come back," he said. "You'll come back ... and stay for a long time."

  "If we are asked," I said, "I think we might."

  I believe he would have asked me to marry him then but just at that moment some rather noisy guests came into the inn parlour. They talked in very loud voices about the weather and the hunt ball which was to take place sometime... and they seemed to want to include us in their conversation.

  It was as near as he had got to asking me. And I was certain he would do so before we left.

  And at that moment I was sure of my answer. I was going to tell him that I wanted to marry him.

  I should have done so but for one thing.

  I had paid two visits to the grandmother. She seemed to like me

  to come. She would sit opposite me and watch me as she talked, her lively eyes beneath their bushy brows never leaving my face.

  She told me she was very proud of her family and what they had achieved.

  "They are a name to be reckoned with among people who make maps."

  "Yes indeed," I agreed. "It is the same with my family. That was how we first met Raymond. At the conference... But you know that."

  She nodded. "It was always the same. It was always the maps. Well, there is money in it. This house was built on maps, you might say."

  "Oh yes indeed. It is quite a profitable business. Of course a great deal of risk and hard work goes into exploration behind and then the actual production of maps."

  She smiled. "Your family too. They tell me you come from a family that can be traced right back to the days of the great Elizabeth."

  "That's so. My grandmother always says that our ancestors were among those who sailed with Drake."

  "I'd like to trace ours back. But there we are. We come to a full stop... and not far back either. The Billingtons are newcomers into the family. This house was built by my father. I was an only child and a girl. That meant the end of the family name. I married Joseph Billington, and that was the start of the Billingtons."

  "I see."

  "I thought of making a family tree. I started it ... in embroidery. But my eyes weren't good enough. It was a strain; and then I came to a full stop. I couldn't go back beyond my father—so it would have been a very short family tree. I expect you have one with branches all over the place."

  "I've never thought of it. There might be one somewhere in the house. I'll find out when I get back."

  "Very interesting ... I always find that sort of thing. I wish I knew of my father's father. His mother married twice ... the second time after he was born, so we don't know much about what happened before that. I'll show you my bit of embroidery. That's if you would like to see it."

  "I should very much like to see it."

  "See that box over there ... on the shelf. It's in there with all the coloured silks. I wrote the names in pencil and then embroidered them in whatever colour I thought best. I started at the bottom. I had to make it a tree ... Start at the roots, you see."

  "What a good idea."

  "Yes, but there's so little. It only spans a hundred years or so."

  "Nevertheless I am longing to see it."

  I put the box on the table and reverently she took
out a large piece of linen. "There you see: Frederick Gilmour. That's my father. Now I don't know who his father is... except that he must have been a Mr. Gilmour. His mother was Lois. She was Mrs. Gilmour first. Then she married a George Mallory."

  I felt a little faint. I cried out: "What... Freddy Gilmour—"

  "Frederick Gilmour, dear. He was my father. It was his father I don't know much about. If only I could find out ... I might go farther back."

  "Lois Gilmour," I repeated. "And she married a second time ... a George Mallory..."

  Words from the journal seemed to swim before my eyes. It was almost as though I were reading it again. It must be. The names explained it. It could not be pure coincidence that Raymond's greatgrandfather was the Freddy of the diary. I made rapid calculations. How old had he been when he came to the Manor. Ann Alice wrote that he was eight. The grandmother must have been born about 1810, which would make her eighty now. Freddy would have been about twenty-five then. It fitted.

  "What's the matter, my dear. You've gone suddenly silent as though you've had a shock."

  I said: "I've just made a discovery. One of my ancestors married a Lois Gilmour. He was George Mallory."

  "You mean you're one of the Mallorys?"

  "Yes. Didn't you know?"

  "Why, bless you, I don't think I ever heard your surname. They've always referred to you as Annalice."

  "I'm Annalice Mallory. Our families must be connected in a way. What—er—happened to this Lois Gilmour...or Mallory as she became?"

  "We don't know. It's a full stop. My father Frederick was a successful producer of maps and prints. He did well. He acquired this house. I was born here. Then when I married Joseph Billington he came to live here and I inherited the house and the business and everything when my father died. It was Billingtons from then onwards."

  "It is so extraordinary," I said. "I feel quite shocked."

  "Well, I suppose if we could go back far enough we would find we were all connected with each other. Think what the population was in the old days and what it is now. We must all have relations we have never even heard of. You'd heard of my father then, in your family?"

  "Y-yes. I knew that there had been this marriage and Frederick

  Gilmour lived in our Manor House for some time. I don't know what happened later, where he went or whether his mother stayed there. I know nothing... except that he was there."

  "Well, it seems there was a family connection between them. Look. You see I have worked him in. There is Lois... but I don't know anything about Lois' first husband, my father's father. I didn't put the second marriage in because I didn't think it had any relevance. There I am branching out from Frederick and Ann Grey, my mother. Then I married Thomas Billington and that is the real start."

  I looked at the fine stitches and all the time words from the journal seemed to echo in my ears and dance before my eyes. "You brought our little bastard in ... That was a neat little job."

  I could tell old Mrs. Billington who her grandfather was; but she was so absorbed in her family tree, telling me stories of this one and that, that she did not notice my inattention.

  When I left her I went to my room.

  I thought: There is a connection between our families then. Raymond's great-great-grandmother was the wife of a Mallory.

  I did not want to speak of it. How could I without explaining that I had found Ann Alice's diary. I could not tell Raymond about that. I could not say to him: Your great-great-grandfather was a criminal, a murderer, and so was your great-great-grandmother. How could I? Such things are best forgotten. If we start probing into the lives of our ancestors who knows what we should uncover. Oh indeed yes. Some things are best kept secret.

  I did not mention the matter to anyone.

  We were to leave the day after tomorrow. Mrs. Billington said that we should just have a family party for the last night. She felt we should all prefer it that way. I knew they were all waiting for an announcement. There was an expectancy throughout the house.

  Raymond and I went off for one of our rides. He was a little more silent than usual.

  We stopped at an inn for the usual glass of cider and while we were drinking it in the inn parlour he asked me to marry him.

  I looked at his kindly face across the table and it seemed to me that there was a shadow behind him. I had visualized Desmond Featherstone so vividly from Ann Alice's journal that I had a clear picture of him in my mind; and as I sat there it seemed to me that I saw the evil face of Desmond Featherstone hovering over Raymond.

  I felt a revulsion. I had lived with Ann Alice through that night when I had read her journal. I had felt I was there with her. Even now, when it grew dark, I imagined the presence of Desmond Featherstone

  in our house—and the more shadowy one of Lois. And the blood of these two was in Raymond; he had developed from their seed.

  It was foolish, of course. Are we responsible for our ancestors? How far can any of us look back? But I could not help it. It was there.

  Perhaps if I had been truly in love with him I should not have felt this. I should have laughed at it and asked myself what the past had to do with the present. Why should one person be responsible for the faults of another? To visit the sins of the fathers on the children had always seemed to me a most unfair doctrine.

  And yet... because of that I could not promise to marry him ... not yet anyway. Perhaps later my common sense would prevail.

  Now I hesitated.

  "What is it?" he asked gently.

  "I'm not sure," I replied. "Marriage is such a big undertaking. It's for life. I feel that we have known each other such a short time."

  "Don't you think we know all we need to know? We're happy together, aren't we? Our families like each other."

  "That is true," I answered. "But there is more to it than that."

  "You mean you don't love me."

  "I am very fond of you. I enjoy being with you. I have found everything here so—comforting and stimulating, but I am still not sure."

  "I've rushed you into this."

  "Perhaps."

  "You want more time to think."

  "Yes, I believe that is what I want."

  He smiled gently. "I understand. We shall meet often. I shall come to you and you will come here. It is just that you feel you need more time."

  It was more than that. If he had asked me a few days before I believe I should have said Yes. It was that revelation in the grandmother's room which had shaken me. I wanted to explain to him. But I could not tell him Ann Alice's story—and even if I did, it would not seem logical to allow the past to impinge on the present to such an extent.

  I could not understand myself. I believe that when I was reading that journal I identified myself with Ann Alice; and I could not get out of my mind that this young man—pleasant as he seemed—was the result of a union between two murderers.

  I would get over it. I did not want to lose Raymond's friendship. I liked his company. With him I had spent the happiest days I had known since Philip had gone. I was foolish to turn away from what could be great happiness.

  I should let common sense prevail in time, but just at present I could not say a word.

  There was disappointment in the house. I sensed it. And for that reason I was rather glad that we were leaving on the following day.

  Granny M came into my room after we had retired that night.

  I was brushing my hair when she came and going over the events of the day in my mind. I could hear the chatter at dinner, see the smiles, feel the expectancy.

  Dinner over and there was no announcement—only talk of our departure next day. It was an anticlimax.

  Granny M seated herself in a chair and characteristically came to the point.

  "I thought Raymond was going to ask you to marry him."

  "He did."

  "And you refused!"

  "Well, not exactly. I couldn't say Yes. I wonder if I ever shall."

  "My dear girl, you must be
crazy."

  I shook my head. "I have really ... asked for time."

  "Time! You're not a child any more."

  "Dear Granny, I am well aware of encroaching age."

  "Don't talk nonsense. Tell me what happened."

  "He asked me and I just said I couldn't. Granny, I want to tell you something. It's the journal."

  "The journal! You mean Ann Alice's?"

  "Yes. I have made a most extraordinary discovery. The grandmother was telling me about the family. She was a Miss Gilmour, and she married a Billington. That was when the family name changed."

  "A Miss Gilmour!"

  "You remember Lois Gilmour in the journal. She was Raymond's grandmother's grandmother. Her father was Freddy ... the boy Lois Gilmour brought into the Manor."

  "I can't believe it."

  "It seemed an extraordinary coincidence at first. But when you think of it, you realize how easily it could have happened. Freddy was always interested in Mallory maps, wasn't he? Ann Alice mentioned it. He must have gone into the profession when he grew up. I daresay he was brought up away from the Mallorys. I have come to the conclusion that that must have been how it happened. Charles Mallory came back. He wasn't drowned after all. He must have settled in the Manor and taken over. What happened to Lois? We don't know. Perhaps she left when Charles came home. I wonder whether Freddy

  remained. In any case he became a cartographer, which was natural as he had seen so much of it during his childhood."

  "And we have met... like this!"

  "Well, that again is understandable. When you consider, you can see it has come about quite naturally. We are all in the same business. People come from all over the country to attend conferences. I daresay most of the leading cartographers in the country and elsewhere are present. It is not so surprising that we met. When you look at it like that it is not so much of a coincidence."